ꜱᴇᴇꜱᴀᴡ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ~ ʏᴏᴏɴᴍɪɴ
"One of us has to come down for the other to rise up, that's just how this game works."
Best friends since preschool, boyfriends since middle school, toxic as of their current fourth year in high school. Their love and need fo...
His skin was burning, a thin layer of sweat coating his pallid skin. The lights were out and despite being dull, they were nearly blinding. Yoongi felt like vomiting, his heart thumping against his chest, begging to escape its confinement.
All he could think about was how severely he had fucked up.
The body next to him shifted, turning to face the boy with mint hair. Blue eyes fluttered open, lengthy, artificially red hair spread across the pillows. "I told you you wouldn't regret giving me a chance." She toyed, a soft giggle following.
"You're not going to tell anyone, right?" Yoongi tried to confirm, desperate to bury this evening.
"Depends," her voice trails as she bites her lip.
"Depends on what?" Yoongi questions, uneasiness swirling up into his abdomen beneath where her dainty hand rests.
"Depends on how often you'll come to see me, silly." Leaning up, she kissed his lips, hand trailing down, beneath his waist.
"Delilah, I told you, this is a one-time thing." He tried to remind her, removing her curious hand, confused by the sudden look of horror on her face, "Del, you knew this."
"You need to leave, you- you whore!" She sputtered, shoving him off of her downy pink bedspread, "You're a liar! Just get out!"
He complied instantly, feeling sicker than before, hazily rushing to get dressed then darting out of the house.
The streets of the town were dark and nearly pitch black, most of the street lights in despair, needing to be replaced. Yoongi's bare feet were ice cold, but he couldn't bring himself to put on the sneakers in his backpack. He deserves to feel misery after what he's done.
It's been an hour of walking now, Yoongi's phone pinging every so often. Yoongi knows it's Jimin, and it just makes him feel worse about what he's done. His boyfriend has probably been up late worrying about him while he was out fucking a girl from science class.
Finally, in a helpless heap, Yoongi stumbles up the front steps of Jimin's friendly little cottage. Dread. Guilt. Self Hatred. Shame. The list could go on, but there are never enough words in the world to describe how complex this feeling is.
The lights were all on, which was unusual considering how late it's become. Before Yoongi could even pull out his house key, the front door swung open and he became enveloped in a familiar pair of arms.
"We were so worried! We didn't know what happened." Jimin sniffled, clutching onto the thin fabric of Yoongi's white T-shirt.
All that guilt turned into a wave of seriously misguided anger.
"It's my fucking life, Jimin. I can do whatever I please with it, got it?" He sneered, rolling his narrow eyes with faux contempt.
"I- I was just worried. You could've called," Jimin mumbled, stance crumpling as the taller boy brushes him off. Just as Yoongi thinks Jimin has backed off, the blonde gasps, pointing a shaking finger towards his bare feet. "You're bleeding!" He exclaims.
"Worry about yourself," Yoongi grumbled, quickly getting to the bathroom and locking himself inside, ignoring Jimin's sniffling and pounding on the door to help.
Alone, Yoongi slumped to the cold floor and cried himself to sleep, Jimin doing the same on the other side.
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