3000 Stars

If It Hurts

"You don't have to sit with me," Taehyung mumbled.

Yoongi flinched. Taehyung couldn't resist a laugh, though it made his head hurt. He had slept, and woken up to Yoongi sitting by the bed with his arms folded and his chin resting on his chest. It was strange, but Taehyung had had it happen before, so he found it more silly than stressful.

"Why don't I?" Yoongi asked.

"I'm just sleeping," Taehyung said.

"And?" Yoongi said, settling back in the chair. "It's my fault you hit your head."

"No, it's not," Taehyung said.

"Oh really?"

"Really," Taehyung said, shifting and curling into a ball. "You didn't know I would keep walking."

"Still," Yoongi said.

Taehyung considered him quietly, wondering how some people could be so stubborn, and found himself laughing again. "You're an idiot."

Yoongi bristled immediately, turning bright red. "I am not!"

"You are," Taehyung said. "How long have you been sitting here?"

Yoongi sank into his chair and didn't answer. Taehyung rolled his eyes and began to sit up, and Yoongi leapt forward, pushing him back down.

"You're supposed to rest!"

"I'm checking the clock," Taehyung said, now laughing so hard his head began to throb.

"School ends in an hour, and then I'll walk home with you," Yoongi said.

"Huh?"

"I'm walking home with you!" Yoongi said.

Taehyung stared at him, stunned into silence. This was out of nowhere. Yoongi had talked to him before, but they didn't know each other well enough for Yoongi to be walking him home. Besides, if his parents met Yoongi they might ask for his number, and then Taehyung's ruse would be over. It had barely lasted two weeks. He needed more time.

Why was there never enough time?

"I can walk home on my own," he said.

"And faint on the street by yourself?" Yoongi retorted. "Hoseok has after-school classes and Namjoon and Jimin are going to the arena. I have enough time to make sure you get home safely--"

"No!" Taehyung lunged up, only to crash down as pain spiked through his head.

"That's the kind of thing you have to sleep off," Yoongi said. "I've been hit in the head before, I know. You can't just go running off to wherever you go when you're not at home."

"You know about that?" Taehyung asked.

"Hoseok trusts us," Yoongi said. "Why don't you?"

Taehyung didn't miss the bite of simmering anger in his voice. He sighed, sitting up more slowly and pressing a hand to his forehead. "I've trusted a few terrible people before," he said. "This isn't about you or them."

"It's about the arena," Yoongi said.

Taehyung gritted his teeth. Yoongi was right, of course; everything in Taehyung's life circled back to the arena somehow. And he couldn't afford to miss the next three fights. Yoongi would only get further ahead. He had panicked and fought and panicked and he was tired of spinning his wheels.

"So what if it's about the arena?" he snapped. "That's where I spent most of my life until a couple years ago!"

Yoongi jerked back like he'd been slapped, eyes wide. Taehyung took his chance and got out of bed, stumbling to the door.

"I can walk myself home," he said, slamming it behind him as hard as he could.

The school hallways were empty and silent, and the echo of the slamming door traveled with him as he ran for the stairs, not trusting Yoongi to stay stunned for long. His head throbbed, his vision going fuzzy, but he trusted his instincts, perhaps more than he should have. He reached the bottom floor and stumbled, falling to his knees. He shoved himself straight back up to his feet, running for the doors, and slammed into Hoseok on the way out. They twisted, stumbled, fell. Taehyung shot to his feet, still wavering, the world spinning.

"You shouldn't be running--" Hoseok started.

"I'm not a weakling, Hoseok!" Taehyung snapped.

"I didn't say you were--" Hoseok said.

"Then quit treating me like I can't take care of myself!" Taehyung yelled.

"Tae--"

"Fxck off!"

Taehyung ran. He knew what he had done. His head was still spinning, still fuzzy, but he didn't care. He careened into the street, feeling blissfully empty, slowly letting his pace drop to a shuffle, pressing his hands to his face. A hysterical laugh bubbled in his throat. Yes. he would disappear. He would disappear. He knew how to disappear. He didn't need them to know. He didn't need them to see.

He could just be V.

Then no one would ever bother him again.