Techni-Color | YoonMin

Chapter 28

Thuds echo around me, pulsing in my ears. Was that my heartbeat? Surely not, as I'm certain there was no heart left in my chest to beat. Jimin had made sure of that. Burrowing further into the cocoon of blankets around me, I clench my eyes shut, hoping that the noise would fade into the background. After a few minutes, it does. The pounding cuts off completely, a comforting silence settling down around me.

At least until the shouting started.

"Yoongi, I swear to god, if you don't open this damn door," Namjoon yells, his voice muffled. I roll over, ignoring him. I had been doing that a lot these passed few days.

Wait... How long has it been like this? Has it been days? I'm not even sure anymore.

It's hard to keep track of time when all you want it to do is stop. I've been in an unending cycle of sleep, pout, and sleep some more. Sometimes I would sneak food into the cycle, but it wasn't very often. Maybe that's why I felt so sick? Or it could just be giant hole in my heart that's making me feel so miserable.

I hear a muffled groan from the door. This was usually the point where Namjoon got too frustrated and left. I wait to hear his footsteps walking away, but they don't.

Ohhh, he's awfully determined today.

"Yoongi," he exclaims, pounding the door once again, "Just open the door, please. You've been in there for two weeks."

Two weeks?

Has it really only been that short of a time? I feel like I have been here forever, lost in a sea of pain that has no ending, my only life raft long gone.

"Just let me know you're at least alive," Namjoon begs. Choosing not to reply, I cover my head, retreating into the darkness. I picture my happy place, something that I've been doing almost constantly these days, preferring to lose myself in the imaginary arms of Jimin than to accept that I would never actually have that.

A jingling catches my attention, but I brush it off, trying to keep the image of Jimin and I together in my head for as long as possible. Light suddenly crashes in around me as the blankets are ripped from me. Cracking one eye open, I look up from my position on the floor, meeting Namjoon's furious gaze, which softens when he takes a look at me.

Pity washes over his features as he bundles the blankets up in his arms, sliding down to sit beside me on the floor. "What are you doing, Yoongi?" he asks softly, as if he was afraid to scare me.

Closing my eyes, I shrug, my shoulders dragging on the carpet underneath me. "I don't know what you mean, Namjoon."

He sighs, "I mean, why are you on the floor of your living room? You're not even on the couch, you're all the way over here by the wall. Why, Yoongi?"

Because when I'm near the wall, sometimes I get glimpses of color when Jimin ventures too close.

I can't tell Namjoon that, but I can't stop my eyes from opening and drifting to the wall. Namjoon's hand ruffles my hair, his fingers tangling in the greasy locks.

"It's because of Jimi-"

"We don't say that name in this house," I interrupt, unwilling to hear anything about him.

"Okay," he says slowly, confused. He sighs and I turn my head back towards him, the soft fabric of the carpet brushing against my cheek. "It's been two weeks, Yoongi. Jin and I hadn't heard anything from you. I tried to call, but you never answered. We've been so worried," he admits, his voice shaky. "At first we thought maybe you and Jimi-" I glare at him, and he rethinks his words before continuing on. "We thought that maybe you and you-know-who has just gotten on really well. But then we saw you-know-who, he looks almost as bad as you do by the way, and we knew something was wrong."