Yellow.

just talk to me • 2016

Sunny poked at you the entire ride home. Comment after comment, question after question, she wouldn't give it a rest.

Sitting next to the window with your arms folded tight over your chest, you held your focus out the glass, your lips pressed together firmly, not letting her hear a word. Stone cold, your face revealed nothing to her, gave her no clue as to what had happened to make you storm out of the dressing room, brush past the boys without saying a word, and get into the car without a look backward.

Aside from Sunny's prodding words, your phone vibrated like mad, and when you finally gave in and checked the screen, there wasn't a single message from the person you had hoped would say something. Seven from Jungkook, one from Sunny, another attempt at getting you to speak, and two from Hoseok.

Jungkook wanted to know what happened. Not trying to be nosey, he'd added to the end of one of the messages. He also wanted to make sure you were okay.

Hoseok inquired the same. Two short messages, one thanking you for the day, and the other a minor question of what had gone down before the boys hurried out of the dressing room.

Jin must've been saying things. But, then again, they weren't stupid, they all heard you and Yoongi, and most had been suspicious throughout the day as well. Jin liked to talk, and you've never held it against him until now. He and Yoongi were the closest, it was obvious Yoongi was telling him what was going on by the way the oldest hurried off when you approached the two...

You haven't mentioned much to Sunny, your relationship was your business and something you intended to keep between you and the person you were involved with so that when shit like this went down, it didn't affect the way your friends viewed the situation. If Yoongi had shared whatever with Jin, and Jin was telling the others that meant the boys were beginning to see you in a different light.

And that makes it all hurt a bit worse.

Arriving home without a word, Sunny accepted defeat. Your best friend unlocked your apartment door for you and let you shut yourself in your bedroom, knowing you'd come to her when you were ready.

The space you shared with her was small, just a little bigger than her New York apartment, this one having two bedrooms. The kitchen was a tiny thing with the cutest little table with two mismatched chairs on each end, and on the opposite wall was a sage green loveseat that has certainly seen better days. A short bookshelf lived between both spaces, separating the two, and on the walls to the left and right were the doors to your bedrooms.

Sunnys was bright, and colorful and done up to her liking, while yours was primarily bare, white walled with printed photos scattered in a handmade gallery. Some of your artwork was hung up, along with some pieces you and Yoongi messed with together.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, the grey blanket soft as a feather beneath you, your eyes scanned the mess of clothes on the floor, some belonging to Yoongi. Groaning, you press your forehead into your palms and take a long, shaky deep breath.

The sky outside was beginning to light up, the sun making its first early morning appearance. You'd been awake for nearly twenty four hours. You were exhausted, and all the more heartbroken.

Kicking off your shoes, ignoring the tears welling in your eyes, you crawled back to your pillows and laid down, not even bothering to cover yourself with the blanket. Laying on your side facing the window, your body and mind were tired, but you couldn't bring yourself to close your eyes. So it would be another tortuous night of shitty sleep.

Letting the tears slip onto the pillowcase, you settled for watching the sunrise, hoping your mind would somehow turn off and you could sleep, or exhaust yourself completely that you'd pass out without even knowing.