we don't talk together

6 - Silhouette

Yoongi POV
The image of those sleepless nights where I cried myself to sleep and waking up still in tears starts crawling back to me. This was the main reason I need a getaway from my members. I can't let them see me like this, not anymore, not after all these times.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I wasn't like this when I wrote Seesaw. Was it because Seesaw more like the emotion piled up inside me that I've been trying to let out? Instead of feeling this way, I kinda feel...relieved?

I curse openly to myself. Then. Why. Am. I. Like. This?!

Deep down I know the answer myself. I haven't moved on. The number of things I still regret I don't do. All the could've and should've were still stacked neatly in the corner of my mind.

How I wish in the parallel universe, I was still holding her when she cried so loud that her chest heaving up and down. How I wish it was me the one she would call first whenever she heard good news about her. How I wish it was her face that I see every time I went back home after a long day of work, instead of this wide empty hall I'm sitting on.

The more I try to forget, the more I try to move on, the more I feel alone. I'm so sick of the past I can't erase. I want to leave and let it die. But I miss her.

I miss her so much it hurts my chest. I miss everything about her. What more can I do?
Instead, I walk on the balcony. In the hope of the summer stars that would lead me home.

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The concept of love is different in every human being. The funny thing is, humans tend to believe their own concept of love after they got hurt. They don't really cherish the moment when it was all blooming and beautiful. Some people heal, some are not. Some people learn, some just wanna shrug it off and jumped into conclusions that love is sucks. Some people hurt so much to the point it breaks their heart and soul, to the point they feel numb.

I am the last person. Call me a dumbass, call me coward, I don't care. I realize the fire I begin was burning me alive. I worked so damn hard all this time to get rid of it. I worked 'til I'm reaching my own limits, so I got a solid distraction.

It works. No, it worked. Somehow it doesn't work anymore.

I rip the paper apart. Slam the keyboard and putting my palms to my forehead. Rubbing it gently. My head is pounding, I can't concentrate. I want to let everything out.

It wasn't long enough until I realize the sun was up and shining bright. It's a day off for me, thank God. I need to get some fresh air. I don't usually do this, but my guts telling me to go out and walk it on.

I go out on my oversize t-shirt and sweatpants, put on a cap and black mask. I keep walking and walking, sniffing the fresh morning air. I spot a coffeehouse few meters apart.

Americano in the morning would be lovely, I thought to myself. Yes, I'm heading there. It was a rare moment I could wander around alone like this, I almost forget how it feels.

The doorbell dingles as I enter the coffeehouse. It was only 6 to 8 people around and it's kinda quiet. I feel relieved, no one will notice me. I'm waiting on the line, queuing for putting my order.

Another dingle comes from the doorbell, I automatically look to the right because it startled me a little, then back into my position. I heard someone panting behind me and trying to gather her normal breath. She let out a little cough.

Oh, wait. The perfume seems familiar.

I freeze.

Something, no, someone poke my shoulders, so gently I almost can't feel it. I look back through my sidelines.

"Yoongi-ya?"

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A/n: Wrote this scene based on Yoongi's verse in 134340