This Wild Love // Yoongi

Your Fault

Min Yoongi POV

(1 Hour Ago)

Crimson blood, slowly pooling, spreading.

The glint of a metal blade, with its other half buried among a patch of blotchy red.

A familiar figure frozen against the floor.

A pair of broken white earbuds, bent and bloodied on the wooden tiles.

"Yoongi? Why did you stop walking? We're trying to get to the back, right?" Jimin's voice whines behind me. "I'm hungry for some kimchi~! This door is so small. I'll push you to get to my food if I have to."

"Don't bother Yoongi-hyung," Taehyung mumbles. He pulls out his phone and sends the hyungs a short text to let them know they arrived at the restaurant with Yoongi. "It's been a while since we've eaten here, and you're aware of what happened last time."

"It should be fine now, right?" Jungkook hums. He rocks back and forth on his heels and puts his head on Taehyung's shoulder.

My eyes scan the room. They catch the end of a dark t-shirt disappearing through the back door, clearing an escape route by pushing through the shocked employees.

At first I struggle to put my foot forward. I clench the doorframe, regaining my composure. Jimin peers over my shoulder. As his breath hitches, something in my heart snaps.

"Y/N!" he yells. Two moments later my body catches up with my intentions. I violently dash forward, knocking down tables and employees as anger narrows my vision. 

I'm out of the door and sprinting across the parking lot in mere seconds, desperately latching on to the sight of a small figure melding into the shadows.

I don't understand these emotions that are welled inside the pit of my stomach.

A part of me doesn't want to. A part of me wants to return to a numb state of mind, drifting through the day without a care in the world.

My pace quickens under the streetlights.

I want to not care, but that's exactly what my problem is. I'm already making excuses in my head.

I owe her for the earbuds.

The same pair of earbuds that are now broken, bloodied, and useless.

--<~>--

(Present)

What a troublesome day.

"Are you at the warehouse?" My voice comes across raw and unsteady. I pray the poor reception in the area masks my exhaustion.

"No, we're in the desert." Jimin's reply puts a small smile on my face, despite the circumstances. As quickly as I made it, I force it to disappear. "Hurry up."

"K." I hang up.

I glance at the guy I'd beaten up. His jacket is firmly grasped in my fist, and his head hangs down. He's not conscious.

I rest my back against a park fence and slide to the ground, dropping the guy on the grass.

You should have been more careful.

I know that.

You f*cking screwed up.

I know that.

Struggling with my internal thoughts, I rest my head against my knees. My hand reaches into my back pocket and I pull out a thin object.

I can barely see it, but I already know what it is.

It wilted a long time ago, and the progression of time had broken it down inch by inch. No color remains except for a muddled brown, a color that only results from years of wear and tear.

Even the petals are riddled with holes. The green stem is no longer vibrant green, but a shriveled pine color. A singular leaf once delicately hung from the stem, but now it's a tattered mess.

I don't know how I've kept it intact for so long.

You are so f*cking stupid. You know she was seen with you in public, so why didn't you watch over her?

I hang my head and the rose dangles from my fingers as I twirl it in, and out. In, and out. Over my knuckles, into my palm.

Rinse, repeat.

You're going to ruin it.

I stuff it back into my pocket.

Forcing myself to my feet, I roughly bunch the man's jacket in my hand and drag him across the park. It takes me a decent half hour to finally rest my eyes upon the warehouse. Having hauled the guy over my shoulder halfway, I peek at him. He's still unconscious.

His head is going to hurt when he wakes up.

Not as much as he hurt Y/N.

When I knock on the warehouse door, Taehyung is the one who answers. Without a word, he hugs me.

"Aigoo," I sigh. My hand ruffles through his hair. "You worry too much."

Breathe, Yoongi. Breathe.

Holding up the man, I say to Tae, "Anywhere I can put this trash?"

"Yeah." His deep voice rumbles in his chest. When he steps back, he offers his hand. I more than willingly dump the man and his jacket across the doorframe. Tae disappears inside the warehouse with me closely behind.

"Sounds like somebody is home!" Namjoon calls from the other side. The lights aren't on. Instead, he'd started a fire on the other side and started a movie on the projector. Advantages of resting in a warehouse.

The rest of the boys are huddled back on the couch, with Jungkook already in a deep sleep and Jimin snuggled next to him.

Hoseok's eyes are firmly fixed on the movie, but he waves a hand to let me know he's acknowledged me. Namjoon is already walking over to Taehyung and I, having abandonded the movie.

I look down at my clothing and scrunch my nose.

A fresh shirt lands on my head and covers my eyes. I pull the fresh shirt away from my head and bundle it in my hand. Namjoon's hand grips my shoulder.

"You're okay?"

I nod.

"You're not hurt?"

I shake my head.

"Good." Namjoon scratches his purple hair and sighs. "From what I gather, Jimin and the others said it wasn't their fault."

His eyes gravitate toward a different area of the warehouse, at a small built-in sideroom. "Jin's in there. You can probably guess why."

Namjoon brings me in for a hug. The hair on my neck bristles.

These guys are so touchy.

He pats my shoulder. "Good luck." Soon enough he's sitting next to Hoseok and I'm hovering behind the door to the sideroom.

"Waiting isn't going to do anything for you," Namjoon calls again. A flare of annoyance boils under my skin.

I know...

My hands land on the door. Without another word, I push it aside and brace myself to confront Jin.