LETTING GO ✦ bts

lost | m.y.g

yoongi had grown quiet over the past year. he never spoke much to begin with, but this was different. he always seemed to be in thought, almost contemplating something.

i'd often wonder if he was caught between two impossible choices. like choosing death or a hundred years of never ending failure. one would think the answer was obvious; choose the lesser of two evils. but it was obvious yoongi didn't find it very easy. he always looked torn since his thoughtfulness began.

i asked him one day, many months ago, what he always looked so strewn about for.

i remember watching his eyebrows furrow together, a shadow casting over his entrancingly dark eyes. the sun above our heads feathered through his hair, cancelling out the mint green color and leaving an off blond.

he looked to open his mouth, but stopped himself, merely shrugging as he brought his glass to his soft lips.

after a short sip, he decided to speak.

"i'm not sure."

in a way, i suppose, it made sense. i myself had found myself, on multiple occasions, lost in thought. i seemed to be dragged into an alternate universe; a place where nothing but my thoughts existed. but even in a place where my thoughts were so plainly presented, i wasn't ever quite sure what i was thinking.

so, i understood why yoongi said what he said.

months came and went, his thoughtfulness came and went as well. he often fell through spells of thought and reality.

when i found him in his phases of wakefulness, i noticed how much more he smiled. how he laughed and joked.

i remember his laughs best.

when he fell into his thoughts, as he so often did, i rarely heard him laugh. it seemed that whatever thoughts he was having were sucking the life out of him.

and sometimes i wished to open his mind, wander inside and explore the darkest corners. i wanted to find whatever had taken his light away, and cut it out of his being. i wanted to kill the thing that took the yoongi i knew away from me for weeks at a time. i wanted to get rid of the thoughts that got rid of my yoongi.

i remember asking him again, what he was thinking about, what he was so distracted by, so distraught over.

and just like the first time, his eyebrows furrowed together, making his ever darkening eyes darker.

yoongi looked at his hands, and i followed, glancing at his thin digits.

i noticed the way they wrapped around each other, tugging and loosening their grip. i saw the veins on the back of his hands, the way they protruded and clashed against his nearly unhealthily pale skin.

i loved his hands, always had. from the way they fit in mine, to the way they held pencils, making it look like an art form. making yoongi look like art in the most human way possible.

i looked back to his eyes, watching them nervously flick across the table, as if the wood carvings engraved in the sides would give him answers.

i repeated my question, an indescribable feeling filling my chest at the sight before me.

yoongi sighed, inaudibly, but i saw his chest fall with his soft exhale.

"i don't know."

his voice cracked between syllables, and i watched his face fall as if he betrayed someone. most likely himself, or possibly me.

i couldn't decide if he wasn't sure of his own thoughts, or if he kept them away from me for a reason.

a pain settled into my ribcage as i looked at him sadly.

what could be torturing him so horribly that he had to keep it from me?

he told me everything before that day. before i asked him to expose his mind.

he used to tell me every detail of his life while he was away from me. what he had for lunch, how his train ride was, how his hectic schedule made him feel as if he was going mad; everything.

and then one day, he couldn't tell me every little thing. he couldn't seem to answer my questions about his day very clearly or thoroughly. he wouldn't quite look me in the eyes when i asked him how he was feeling. he slowly stopped talking for the most part.

today, he had woken up early. i remember watching him get up from bed and glance over at me sleepily. i remember how downcast his eyes were, how awful he looked.

it didn't look well on him. something so sad didn't fit him. i didn't want to see that beautiful boy like that ever again.

i got up not long after, doing my normal routine of making coffee and sitting across from yoongi as the morning news played on the television.

i remember making my coffee, sighing softly as i poured the steaming hot drink into a mug yoongi had bought me years before.

i remember feeling watched as he sat at the dining table, the same look on his face from when he had gotten up.

i sat down across from him, setting my mug down and staring at the tired, pale boy in front of me.

i felt like asking him again. ask him what he thought about so much that he stopped talking. ask him why he didn't look like yoongi anymore. ask him where my yoongi went.

i found myself furrowing my eyebrows as i asked him the same thing that made him slip further from my grasp: what he was thinking about.

it seemed he knew i was going to ask, but his face showed otherwise, because his eyes focused suddenly and he seemed to be thrown back to reality for a moment. he looked like yoongi again.

unlike the other times i asked, his eyebrows didn't furrow together. i had done that for him. this time, he didn't look anywhere but me, he looked right at me.

for once, he looked like he knew what he was going to say. he looked like he had his thoughts sorted out. he looked like he had everything figured out.

maybe it marked the end of his dreamlike, and borderline depressive phases. maybe it meant the yoongi i love could come back and smile and laugh again.

yoongi frowned slightly, but recovered quickly, putting his emotionless facade on.

"i don't love you anymore."

and even as he broke my heart, i couldn't help but smile. the yoongi i had fallen in love with was back, but not in my arms.

End