From the moment that he laid eyes on her, he knew that he should just stay away. He didn't like her from first sight on. Everything that she did or said irritated him, infuriated him. But yet he found himself in her presence all the time. If he would believe in fate, he would have believed their paths crossing was fate. But he didn't believe in fate, nor in love, nor in happy endings.
Min Yoongi was a man living in his own little world. He had built this world all by himself with his own hands to protect himself from the cruel world outside. There he lingered far from harm and heartbreak. It had taken a lot from him to built this world. He had lost most precious things to him, a part of himself that was forever gone. But yet he was here, trying to survive. His dark past haunted him, but he didn't let it get to him. He was on the run constantly, faster than lightning. Maybe that was why he was always lost in thought.
He was stumbling through the streets late in the night, drunk out of his mind. The lights and the commotion of the city was giving him a stinging headache, making him feel nauseous. A family passed by him, giving him disgusted looks, the mom covering her young daughter's eyes as she scoffed at him. Yoongi couldn't care less what anyone thought of him, so he just glared at her, continuing his way. The flashlights of the passing cars made him feel dizzy and didn't help at all with his stomach churning. Without a warning a wave of nausea hit him, and he doubled over puking all over his shoes.
"Fuck" he muttered under his breath, which by the way made him even grimace in disgust. He was a whole mess and he knew it. Staring at his ruined black converse in disgust, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. People passing him steered clear of him. Snarling at some people who threw him nasty glares, he continued to stumble his way down the street. Turning the corner, he was finally in a quiet alleyway, the noises of the city slowly fading. Soon enough he arrived at his apartment building. Leaning his head against the elevator he continuously pressed its button but no matter how hard he would press it the familiar "ping" sound never entered his ears. Groaning he pried his eyes open, trying to figure out what the deal was when noticed the note on top of the button.
Elevator out of order
"Fuck this shit" he cursed, punching the door. He lived on the highest floor, which meant that he would have to climb ten sets of stairs with his drunk ass.
"Why does God hate me so much" he muttered, dragging his limbs to the stairs. Grabbing the handle, he began to climb the stairs clumsily. Tripping over the steps occasionally almost face planting the concrete. Only after the first set of stairs he threw himself in the corner, catching his breath and trying to soothe his dizzy head. Pulling up his knees to his chest, he buried his face in them. His head was spinning, and he could feel bile coming up his throat. He stayed in that position for what felt like forever and the longer he sat there, the heavier his limbs felt and the drowsier he got. It was not much of a surprise that he dozed off on the dirty floors.
