Husfriends ~𝓨𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓶𝓲𝓷

Chapter 9, yoongi

Chapter 9
Yoongi

This house... My Dreams.

It was a gift from my grandmother on my 18th birthday. A place that belonged only to me. A place where I always came whenever I felt low, sad, hurt... and where I could cry my heart out without anyone watching.

I parked the car in front of the house, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. My chest ached, my mind was numb, and my vision blurred with unshed tears.

Jimin forgot about me.

Just like that. Like I never existed.

I let out a bitter laugh, looking up at the sky.

Wow, God. You're just amazing.

With heavy steps, I walked inside, straight to my room. As soon as I stepped in, I threw myself onto the bed, burying my face into the pillow.

And then-I broke.

Tears streamed down my face, my body trembling as I sobbed like a helpless child.

For two hours... I cried.

Uncontrollably.

Painfully.

I had never cried this much before. But now, I couldn't stop.

And then... the memories came rushing back.

The day I saw him for the first time.

Fifteen years ago...

That day had been exhausting. School was a nightmare, and my head was still pounding from the scolding I'd received. I just wanted to go home, lie down, and forget about everything.

But the moment I stepped inside the house, my mother's sharp voice greeted me, her tone carrying more disappointment than concern.

"Yoongi, how many times have I told you to focus on your studies? Why can't you be like the other kids?!" she scolded, setting the dining table with unnecessary force.

I stood there silently, staring at the floor. Too tired to argue. Too drained to explain myself.

Before I could say anything, a knock on the door interrupted us. The maid rushed to open it, and suddenly, unfamiliar voices filled the house.

"Oh, you all are finally here!" My mom's voice did a complete 180-now filled with excitement and warmth.

I lifted my head slightly, watching as she rushed forward to hug a woman.

"Yes, we missed you so much!" the woman replied with equal enthusiasm.

Then, a soft voice rang through the air.

"Eomma."

I froze.

That voice-sweet and delicate, like a gentle melody. It made me look up, searching for the source. And then I saw him.

A boy, about my age. He looked... ethereal. His skin was soft and glowing, his cheeks a faint shade of pink. His eyes sparkled like the night sky, and something about him held my gaze captive.

Who is he?

Why can't I stop staring?

"Yes, baby, how are you?" My mom crouched to his level, smiling at him. "Do you remember me?"