May 22nd

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12:00 p.m.

Jin, Hoseok, and Namjoon are finally able to get Yoongi out of bed and get him out the door for his classes. It's been almost two weeks since he last saw Jimin. Yoongi's life has been hell without him.

He can't think straight, and spends most of the morning staring at his canvas blankly. Yoongi's emotions were all bottled up, waiting to spill, and it was the sight of a couple kissing outside the art room that sealed the deal. Yoongi began crying again, and continued to cry the entire time he painted. When he was finished, he dries his tears, and and leaned back a little to look at his work.

Again, he painted Jimin. He loved painting Jimin, except this time it hurt. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. But Yoongi had painted himself in there too, as the black shadow that cradled Jimin in its arms. Yoongi wanted to be able to hold him again, to kiss him again. He missed Jimin.

↔↔↔

Lay was worried about Jimin. He could sense something was wrong when Jimin - the now redheaded boy - plopped down beside him in class.

Jimin didn't greet him like normal. He stayed quiet for the entire four hour lecture. Lay wanted to ask him what was wrong but every time he opened his mouth, Jimin shot him a look, as if to say, 'don't'. So he didn't.

When the lecture had ended, Jimin stood up quickly and rushed out of the room. He felt like he was going to be sick.

He couldn't stop thinking about what Jin said to him the other day, and how terrible Yoongi must be feeling. He couldn't stop thinking about Yoongi.

Jimin placed his hands against the brick wall of the building and whimpered. He missed Yoongi a lot. Jin was right. He didn't deserve him. Yoongi was too good for him. Jimin tangled his fingers in his freshly dyes hair and pulled on his locks. He was so frustrated with himself. "Yoongi." He cried softly. Even just saying his name hurt too much.

Jimin could hear someone approaching him. He figured it was Lay coming to talk to him. He could see a set of feet standing behind him. Jimin straightened up slowly, but didn't turn around. Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and a chin rested on his shoulder. "Red looks good on you."

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