Mactabilis Umbra || Yandere Min Yoongi X Reader/Oc ||

『⑴.』

Min Yoongi found the life utterly dull.

There was nothing riveting about existing among faceless population, who didn't care about you in the least bit, in a merciless world. 

He may be one of the scarce to be thinking like that. Countless people wouldn't share his perspective, wouldn't understand him. But, he doesn't criticize them for that. His mentality was a bit screwed due to his exceptional predicament. 

Others have a family, have friends, have a peaceful life. 

Yoongi doesn't. 

He doesn't have a mother to scold him for being late to the school, a mother to prepare his lunch box and kiss his forehead lovingly, a mother to nag at him. He doesn't have a father that would share with him his school tales, a father to tell him jokes and wise advices. He doesn't have a sibling that he found annoying. A sibling to bicker with. 

Yoongi's home was void of a family atmosphere. There wasn't a family to greet him back home. He doesn't know the warmth of a parent because he was raised in an orphanage. An orphanage crammed with children donned in stained clothes and growling stomaches. 

He was raised in a place where he was forced to learn how to survive at the mere age of five; pick pocketing, stealing the food as the orphanage's wasn't enough, defending himself with his fists. It was a tedious life full of paranoia and mistrust. 

Until he met him, at the age of ten. The man who both saved and messed his life up. 

He waved the dark ghastly memories away into the far back of his mind. No need to further torture himself when he was already suffering abundantly. 

It's tiresome and nonsensical to live, he occasionally catches himself musing. He intermittently catches himself morbidly fascinated with the idea of descending, down and down, from one of the loftiest towers. 

He envisages the air caressing his skin as he got closer and closer to his death. He imagines grinning as he stared at the vast sky one last time, finally liberated. He imagines the buzzing sound of the wind. And he imagines the painful, aching, sensation of being cruelly crushed against the ground when he eventually reached the end of the plunge.

The scene frequently plays out in his mind. Tempting him to try. It tempts him to walk another step and allow himself to dive towards the seemingly ant sized vehicles. 

Would he meet his demise promptly ? Would his life flash before his eyes and make him realize what a mistake it was to end it ? The latter doesn't make sense since his life, in his opinion, was purposeless. He doesn't have anything, or anyone, to live for. 

Yoongi was apathetic towards death. He sometimes yearned for it when things got excessively choking for him to deal with. 

The time ticks either too fast or too slow for the people.

It unfortunately ticks sluggishly for him. And doesn't that make things worse for him ?

He envies the people who grumble about the time moving speedily. Perhaps if that was the case for him then he wouldn't be suffering to this extent. Perhaps he wouldn't have reached this devastating depressing state.

。。。。

                『It was the 4th of November when he first met her; his savior.』

Yoongi idly watched the pouring snowflakes, admiring their pulchritude. Around this time of the year, everything feels moderately serene for him. Not much, but nonetheless better. 

He's seated comfortably on the bench, in a thankfully empty park. It's vacant of people, not a single soul lurking about during such a chilling weather. The young man thinks winter was a marvelous time to get out of the house and appreciate the nature. Something about the earth attired in a white wedding dress was breathtaking.