Blaming Black Cat // Min Yoongi

Final Blame 47 - Lucky Charm

Final Blame 47

The metal walls around me lurched upwards. My stomach dropped as the box ascended. I focused on the closed doors in front of me to keep myself from throwing up. My warped and twisted reflection stared back at me with wide eyes.

I looked like a mess. My hair looked like a trampled bird's nest and hung limply in front of my face. Mascara smudged under the outer corner of my eye. Nervously, I ran a hand through my ragged hair. It didn't do much, but it did enough.

The small black screen above the elevator buttons changed from 1 to 2. My heart jumped as the doors dinged open.

For a moment, I couldn't move. My legs were stuck to the ground. Something held me back. What if this was the wrong decision? What if I mess up everything?

I fisted my hands. My nails bit into my clammy palms. No. I had to do this. This was the right decision for me.

The elevator door began to close. With a burst of energy, I slipped from the dark metal box.

I slowly made my way over to the door we called ours. I raised my hand to knock, but then let it fall to my side. I didn't need to knock.

Jiggling the keys in the lock, my breath stuttered. I wiped the cold sweat from my palms before swinging the door in.

My shoes squeaked on the wooden floor as I stepped inside. The lights were off. Strange.

I flipped the light switch with a click.

"Hello?" I squeaked out.

I was met with...

Silence.

I looked around my apartment in confusion and worry. It was exactly how I left it this morning. But something felt different.

That's when I started to notice the little things. The missing shoes at the entrance. The missing coat. The missing coffeecup.

A stone of unease weighed down my body.

"Yoongi?" I called out.

I strained my ears for the slightest response.

Nothing.

A feeling of panic started to bubble in my stomach.

"Y-Yoongi?" I called out again, louder this time.

Dreading what I'd find, I burst into Yoongi's room.

My heart sank to the ground.

The room was barren. The bed was gone. The dusty records that used to line his bookshelf were nowhere to be found. Neither was the bookshelf. It felt hollow. Abandoned. Unlivable. Like no being capable of compassion had lived here before.

Funny how the room was cleaner now than it ever was before.

The only thing decorating Yoongi's room was his desk.

My fingertips grazed the wood grain on the surface. They stopped at a small plain white envelope in the center of the desk.

I grabbed the envelope with shaking hands. On the cover in small handwriting was my name. I realized I never noticed how beautiful Yoongi's handwriting was until now.

Inside, there was a small letter. I quickly smoothed out the folds and read it.

My Alisha,