Breaking In {BTS In School}

47. A Tempest Of The Mind

**** Avril Lavigne - Wish You Were Here for some super nice insight into forlorn, sad heartache. ****

YeongMi sat on the beach alone. Her knees were drawn to her chest, arms securely pinning them down, and her chin lightly lay on her knees. She was wrapped up like the perfect little bundle of anger and pain.

She had taken to staring out at the water a lot lately. It had become something of a pathetic hobby for her, a way to pass the time.

It made her feel like a misunderstood character in a dramatic movie, or something like that. Only this was real life, and she wouldn't end up with some heartfelt make up scene, perhaps some tears and a killer music score, a kiss in the rain, or something equally as idiotic.

She had never even thought of that in her silliest daydreams. Of course not.

For the past few days, it had taken up most of her time, these moments of beach ponderings. Or rather, over-analysis and hateful torture.

She would say that it helped her think, but it hadn't really done much good for her. She knew this, but she didn't stop. She had a sick attraction to furthering her pain.

After hours and hours of painful contemplation, she hadn't found anything among the bitter, hateful thoughts that would initiate some sort of epiphany, or anything that would help her get rid of the mass of pain that was disguised by spiteful anger.

She still hadn't found a way to cope with the fact that she had been hurt; her thoughts were dominated by conceited gloating and avid denials.

She was too good to get hurt, right?

Wrong.

She hadn't cared about him enough to allow him to hurt her like this, right?

Wrong.

So dreadfully wrong.

Her peace - though it really should've been considered torment, if anything - was interrupted by oncoming people, a pair walking down the beach, deep in conversation.

The two figures wandered closer, slowly passing the desolate girl, without so much as a glance over at her.

It was as if she was invisible, just another part of the harsh beauty of the landscape.

Harsh beauty. That was her. It made her untouchable, unapproachable, and sometimes even despised. Not to mention her attitude, of course. Oh she used to love it, used to revel in it, being this harsh, beautiful thing that people feared just as much as they admired, if not more. But now, it was only a vice for her self-imposed solitude, and she figured it was too late to change it, though she thought she might want to. She really wanted to.

Harsh beauty.

It would have been fitting in her eyes, were it not for the fact that she wanted to be noticed. God, how she wanted to be noticed. She wanted them to notice her. Especially him. She might as well have been dead if nobody would notice her, if he wouldn't.

How could she go on being invisible and alone when she was desperate for more? She hadn't seen it before, but now that she knew that there were alternatives to her lonely lifestyle, she wanted it. She could have more; she wanted more.

But still, she was afraid. She didn't want anyone having the power to mean something to her. It meant that they had the power to hurt her. Not that this fear had helped her avoid getting hurt. She was afraid of just about everything.

She had thought that he was the only one who would notice her. The only one who had noticed her. The one who would always notice her. She had hoped that it would remain true.

But what was it that she always said about hoping?

It was useless, weak, and foolish.

Useless.

Weak.

And foolish.

Fuck Namjoon for making her feel unnecessary emotions like that. Fuck him for coming into her life like a destructive force of passionate beauty, causing such a havoc that she felt as if her whole entire world was changing, distorting into an unfamiliar place where she was feeling, and wanting, and hoping.

It was dangerous. Bad. But it had felt so nice, for a moment. That was the trouble of it, like an addiction, always pulling her in, attracting her in the absolute worst way.

She shifted her eyes to watch them go, feeling dejected and tempestuous. She wanted to fight, even with her burning lip, the gash on her cheek, which was still slightly stinging, and her raw knuckles, a dull pang shooting through her hand every few moments. But she still wanted to fight, and this time she would know the best ways to hurt Bora while avoiding any of her attacks, namely, her nails.

But she would not fight; her chest was heavy from all the anger she constantly harbored.

She moved to stand up and walk down the beach before she realized that her brother was no longer there.

She had no one.

Just as it always had been before.

So she resorted to going back to looking out at the water with a forlorn mind, allowing her rampant mind to wander in dangerous directions.