Destin [ON HOLD]

E I G H T

Taehyung's POV.

I don't bother walking down for breakfast the next morning.

They don't want me there anyway. I don't want to bother them with my presence.

So I remain, tangled in the sheets, eyes swollen and heart heavy.

There is absolute silence in the room. An unsettling silence. The silence that makes your skin prick in caution.

V was yet to speak.

I am thankful that he hasn't made any move to tell me about how useless I was. I didn't need to be reminded. Not to mention that I was already emotionally drained from hearing what the members had thought of me.

Deep down I always knew that they hated me, yet I had tried to brush the thought away. Now however, I believe every word they have said.

Last night's dream still remains etched fresh in my mind.

I cannot forget their looks of hate and harsh words.

But the one which had stood out most prominently for me where my parents. My eyes began to tear up as I remember their words and the familiar burn in my chest returned.

A soft knock pulls me out of my thoughts, and my head snaps up, curious too see which member had actually bothered to check up on me.

It is Yoongi.

He is standing at the doorframe, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. But it is his eyes that strum a deep chord deep within me.

They soften considerably as they land on me and their is an air of concern in them that warms my heart.

It's kinda nice though, don't you think? It's more quiet in here. Calmer. I could get used to this shit.

He didn't really care. He never did.

Maybe this is all another dream and I am yet to wake up from it.

There is silence as we just stare at each other, both lost in our thoughts. Then as if he suddenly understands what he's doing, he shakes his head, clearing his throat.

"You're late."he states, blandly.

It is then do I remember that today was another dance session. My muscles groan in protest at the thought.

He does not question my whereabouts for the last two days. He does not ask whether I was alright after Hoseok's beating.

He says nothing.

And why should he?

He too occasionally threw swings at me. He too uttered harsh words at me.

He is no different.

I pull myself up, the bed squealing as I do. Yoongi watches silently as I make my way to my cupboard.

I have my own room as none of the members wish to share one with me.

With trembling fingers I pick out a pair of grey sweatpants and an oversized white shirt, all through his stare. My back pricks with unease. I realise he is still there as my fingers dance over my stomach, brushing over the hem of my shirt.