Not Today || Yoonmin #Wattys2017

Chance

Yoongi's POV
Where the fuck could he have honestly gone?

I'd texted Jin, Namjoon, hell I'd even bothered to try and text Taehyung. Nobody answered.
I was currently sat on the brats bed, writhing around on his soft white comforter. His room was the only thing to bring me some form of comfort and center.
The sun easily penetrated through the white curtains washing the room with a bright yellow light, the walls were a soft periwinkle decorated with a few drawings and water paintings of the city and what appeared to be some of his friends.
I'd looked up the lyrics to one of the songs he'd been playing before and tried to imagine how his voice would sound singing it. Steaming chamomile tea wafted a calm air throughout the room just like all the past times I'd barged in on him reading or daydreaming while looking out the window.

God you're fucking pathetic. My conscience laughed, rolling along the floors of my mind in hysterics.
This wasn't me, I didn't do this kinda crap- didn't pine after stupid hipster brats. I went for the easy fucks and the non sentimental twats looking for a quick good time at a parties- the ones not looking for commitment or any attachments.
Jimin was different- special. No matter how hard I tried I just couldn't find myself not thinking- not wanting 'one more hook up', 'one more kiss', 'one more look'. He wasn't about alcohol, smoke, loud music and shit
attitudes. He wasn't the type of person to get involved in a sweaty, half hazardous one night stand or a 'relationship' built solely around a need to get off.
No.
Jimin was honey scented shampoo and lavender body wash and full body smiles and giggles. He was too fucking pure and it made my insides rot like a cavity in a five year old sugar addict.

"Yoongi?" A feminine voice hummed from behind the door.

Shit. I scurried off the bed and turned off the soothing indie buzzing from my phone, nearly spilling my tea in my haste.

"Y-yeah?" I creaked out. The door opened to reveal Mrs. Park with a tray full of rice cakes in hand along with a basket full of freshly cleaned clothes.

"You okay, hun?" She asked carefully, eyebrows drawing up in concern. I was surprised she'd done all she'd been doing lately- bringing food up for me at my room, making sure to check if I had any laundry and brought it down to be washed, asking if I needed anything. At first, of course, I'd taken it for granted and told her to leave me alone. But after a few days of starving myself locked up in my room I finally gave in and allowed her to do her thing.
Believe it or not I didn't completely hate Mrs. Park. She was always nice and seemed like she genuinely gave a shit about me- unlike wives two and three.

"I made some rice cakes if you want any." She nodded, gently setting them down on Jimin's bedside table. "You've been in here for a good while..." She drawled off, a silent 'you wanna talk about it?' Hanging unsaid in the air. I cleared my throat and grabbed a pink cake, slowly nibbling on it and mumbling a small thanks.

"I feel like shit." I frowned. Jimin's mum sighed, resting a hand on my ankle and patting it a few times before sitting down across from me on the bed.

"Look, dear. I don't want to go into detail with what you did to upset him- that's your business." She shifted looking a bit uncomfortable. "But I can clearly see that you like Jimin a lot more than you lead o-"

"What?! I never said I like that brat! I just care if he's safe. And it'd be good if he'd reply to my god damn message so I'd know he's okay." I growled, crossing my arms and looking off to the small white desk below the window.

"Kid, I've been around a lot longer than you have. I've eaten a hell of a lot more bowls of rice than you have, so if I were you I'd pay attention." She sassed, the same dangerous gleam in her eyes as Jimin had when I'd had my first fight with the smol blonde boy. "I may be older but I can clearly see that you have a thing for that 'brat'."