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°three°

He'd uttered this in such a casual tone, my mind almost completely overlooked it. It sounded more like a comeback than an actual, legitimate answer to my dogged conscience's question.

For all of two minutes, the two of us said not a word--Yoongi, with his back against the wall, neck slightly bent so that he could stare fixedly at the ground at his feet, whereas I could look nowhere else but him. A part of me still couldn't believe what I heard, despite how some others may have taken such a thing lightly.

"I don't understand, you were able to find your way to your seat on the first day, and-"

"I'm not blind, you idiot." Yoongi let out a noise of disgruntlement, frowning even more than before. "Visual impairment, haven't you heard of it?"

"Can't you just use glasses?"

"You really must have a thick skull."

"Yeah, I won't argue with you there."

I approached Yoongi with careful steps, urging myself to avoid acting as though I were pitying him, while at the same time wishing he'd stop being so stubborn and independent. There was nothing wrong with wanting to help someone, and surely there was no reason for him to be refusing it so strongly.

"Gimme your hand."

"And what do you plan on doing with it?"

"I dunno, maybe intertwine our fingers romantically and skip off into the distance together so we can get married or something." I laughed quietly to myself, shaking my head disappointedly at the hopelessly confused expression Yoongi now had on. I didn't mean to spite him. Anyone would've found it amusing. "I'm trying to help you stand, genius. Now take my hand. How far is your house from school, by the way?"

He had finally faced me, those cognac eyes wider than ever and flooded with an immeasurable amount of uncertainty. "A-...about six blocks," he said. I gave a low whistle in response.

"That close?"

"I...can get there...on my own."

He's more hesitant to argue now. That's good.

"You couldn't even make it to the door, pal, I don't think it's safe to let you walk home like this."

He fought it. Not physically, but I could see it--he was in the midst of a mental conflict, vigorously battling the urge to take another's hand and allow them to get closer to him, to see what it was that kept him so reserved. I meant what I'd said earlier, how I only had good intentions. Even more so now due to this newly acquired knowledge I possessed.

"C'mon, Yoongi." I smiled at him in a sympathetic yet respectful manner--well, that was the look I strove to maintain, anyway. I couldn't be assured my efforts were successful until that ever present frown of his vanished.

He took my hand. Reluctantly, no doubt, but nonetheless it was progress. I rose to my feet and lifted him up along with me, taking heed to watch his face warily in the chance that his expression might change to something a little more...pleasant.

Witnessing the lack of positive change was honestly disheartening.

"I'm sorry."

That was the first thing he uttered once he was standing again. An apology--of all things, it just had to be an apology. Even to myself, I couldn't explain why that affected me the way it did, but I wasn't about to start denying it either.

"In this situation, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to say thanks."

"..."

"Oh, I get it. You're shy." I sported a playful smirk. "Don't worry. If that's the case then I promise not to tell your girlfriend."