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

『⑵.』

           『10th November, four days subsequently, unexpectedly marked the second time he met her.』

Yoongi's gaze concisely flitted to the stunning azure sky. It was marvelously clear. The sun beamed gaily and fiercely, the radiating warmth an assurance of an imminent delightful day. The visage deluded everyone with its serenity that the world was a beautiful place as the heavens professedly smiled genially down at them with promises of safety and contentment.

'I certainly should know more than anyone how spurious the peaceful image is,' he snorted derisively to himself. '..How nauseating.' 

As he roved amongst the swarm of faceless, austere, people scurrying to their destination in the bustling street, revulsion twisted his blank expression for a jiffy and left an atrocious phantom taste in his mouth. 

Countless smells— cheap, shoddy, overwhelmingly strong perfumes that would make you want to hurl your intensities wafted off bitchy looking teenage girls garbed in high school uniforms with too short skirts and a face caked with make up like a clown. Stinky sweat as if they hadn't showered for years came from mostly the adults carrying work suitcases and teenage boys. 

All of these repellent smells assaulted his sensitive nose dismally in the way too early morning, making his empty stomach churn unpleasantly. He rues, as habitual, ever stepping out of his fresh aired apartment that he made sure to keep morbidly clean.

The faint thumping in his head, indicating a headache, made him sigh. 

       Today he's going to skip the school, again, evidently. 

➖➖➖➖➖

Yoongi briskly stopped in his tracks..and stared, startled.

There, through the clean glass of the coffee shop with a banner declaring its name in illuminating white light 'Vennet', he could see the familiar figure of the woman he met in the park a mere several days ago. 

Clad in a plain blue sweater and jeans with a white small apron over it, in her hand was a tray with a plate of cake and a mug with steam drifting from it. She's smiling, wearily, as she served the customers occupying the tables. 

Initially, he thought he was imagining her presence; it wouldn't surprise him if that was the case. He had been for the past days mistaking some of the females he passed by to be her. For some reason, everytime he'd see a (H/C) haired woman, Yoongi gets queerly excited and assume it was Y/N..only to be oddly disappointed when he finds his conjecture was erroneous. 

He didn't know why he was subconsciously seeking to see her. 

What would he benefit from meeting her again? Why was he unconsciously searching for her? Those questions came up empty for answers. However, he's aware that she's unique. Because she has acquired a peculiar intense control over his mind. 

All of thoughts regarding death, life, and anything in particular were supplanted with her words, her benevolent eyes, and her soothing voice. 

He's watching TV? Her name would arise in his mind—What is she doing now? Is she watching, as well? Sleeping? Working?— He's reading? Her face would surface, making him unable to focus on the inky words— Who is her favored author? Her favorite literature? What does— He's sleeping? His dreams were haunted by dainty hands atop his shoulder, (E/C) eyes kindly returning his stare, and pink colored lips curving into a smile. 

Whatever he was doing, the task would bizarrely remind him of her. No matter how trivial it was. He's pondering about her every single day since their meeting. The question of 'would they ever meet again' plaguing him like a disease.