Misunderstandings | Namgi

Chapter 8

Yoongi POV

Rushing through the crowd of people in the room as best I can, it takes me longer than I wanted to find my cousin and best friend.

Grabbing hold of the backs of their collars, I don't even say anything as I quickly begin dragging them towards the exit in a shaky motion. They both turn in surprise instantly, before watching the surprise get immediately replaced with worry. Both boys pull my hands from their shirts, wrapping an arm around my waist each, helping me out of the place as quickly as possible.

I keep my head down the entire time, trying to keep myself up and on my feet rather than completely collapsing the way I want to.

They try to stop me and ask questions once we're outside, but with my mind and heart running a mile a minute, I keep the fast pace towards home, just wanting to be in a safe place, even if it's not truly as safe as most would think.

"Yoongi, what happened?" Hoseok asks worriedly the moment we enter the apartment, Tae closing the door behind us. I bolt away from the both of them though, my mind taking over my body as I run to my bathroom and lock the door behind me.

"Yoongi! No, open up!" Tae instantly shouts after me, but the door is locked before either of them can touch it.

"Hyung, please! You don't wanna do this!" Hoseok calls frantically as they both beat against the door.

I ignore them both though, collapsing to the tiled flooring weakly. Sobs instantly fall from my lips, and I'm soon crying so hard that it feels as though I could puke. I'm curling up in a ball as my chest begins to feel constricted, and I hate myself for giving into the anxiety attack.

Looking weakly around my bathroom from the floor, I spot the basket of items that I tried to hide from myself six months ago with Hobi and Tae at my sides. I feel nearly numb as I reach out to the basket, dragging it across the floor towards myself until it's directly in front of myself. I can see every single demon that I've managed to keep away from for the last three and a half years now, each one looking oh so fucking tempting.

Grabbing the basket, the sobs calm a little as I dump it's contents out onto the fuzzy white rug at my other side. Out spills the razors and cigarette packs and lighters and my old flask, items that make my skin crawl and itch. I let my fingers ghost over the much too familiar items, memories of before and after Joon walked into my life flashing through my head.

"Six months. It's been six months since he left me. Six months since I found out I wasted the last three years of my life. He's already moved on and engaged with someone new. So why is it that I constantly find myself mentally getting dragged backwards when it's clearly so easily for him to move on? Why is it that I can't move on from him when it was obviously so easy for him to forget about me?" I croak out weakly, fingers slowly falling from the items in front of me without grabbing anything.

It's been so fucking long. Three and a half fucking years since I've ever felt this low. Three and a half fucking years since I thought getting my life together would mean that I could ever be loved. Three and a half fucking years since I've ever been anywhere near as low and defeated as I feel now.

"Yoongi, please. He doesn't deserve you, okay? You deserve so much better. Please come outta there, hyung." Tae calls out in a rough voice. I can't find it in me to move though, still sitting here with tears falling down my cheeks, staring at the contents of what I always ran to before I met Namjoon.

Carefully pushing the items to the side of the rug closest to the door, I lay myself down on the hard tiled floor, my head resting atop my fuzzy rug.

"Yoongi, please open the door. Please, we can cuddle you and make you hot chocolate and watch movies and everything. Just come out here so that we know you're okay and safe." Hoseok says next, still sounding worried.

"I'm not okay though. It hurts. It fucking hurts getting left behind and so fucking quickly." I whimper quietly, letting my tired eyes fall shut.

I block out the rest of whatever it is they continue saying, just wanting to sleep before I really do actually do something I'll regret in the morning, no matter how much my body itches for the feelings.