#ʏᴏᴏɴɢɪ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

btsuga-d · 7 months ago

Text

Can You See Me || Chapter II ʚɞ

↬ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ

𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜, 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝. 𝙸𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚕'𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖, 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞��𝚍𝚎𝚍, 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚕. 𝙴𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚞𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚞𝚖𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎. 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝙸𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜?

↬ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ

𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙼𝚒𝚗 𝚈𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒 𝚡 𝙱𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝙾𝙲!𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝙸𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚕

↬ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ

➤ 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔

↬ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ

𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎, 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔, 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝, 𝙿𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕, 𝚁𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚂𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕, 𝙷𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛, 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎, 𝙰𝚄, 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕, 𝙺𝚒𝚖 𝚂𝚎𝚘𝚔𝚓𝚒𝚗!𝙳𝚘𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛, 𝙼𝚒𝚗 𝚈𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒!𝙿𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙹𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗!𝙿𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝙺𝚒𝚖 𝚃𝚊𝚎𝚑𝚢𝚞𝚗𝚐!𝙿𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔!𝙿𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝙷𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚘𝚔!𝙿𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝙺𝚒𝚖 𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚓𝚘𝚘𝚗!𝙿𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝

↬ ᴡᴏʀᴅᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ

3.3𝚔

↬ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝, 𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜, 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚐𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎

↬ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ

𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘 🌸 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝙲𝚈𝚂𝙼. 𝚆𝚎'𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚈𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒'𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗, 𝚜𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜. 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝙸 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎. 𝚂𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗.

↬ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʟɪꜱᴛ - 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯

ᴍɪɴ ʏᴏᴏɴɢɪ ʟᴇᴇ ɪꜱᴇᴜʟ ᴋ��ᴍ ꜱᴇᴏᴋᴊɪɴ ᴋɪᴍ ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ ᴊᴜɴɢ ʜᴏꜱᴇᴏᴋ ᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴊɪᴍɪɴ ᴋɪᴍ ᴛᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴɢ ᴊᴇᴏɴ ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ

↬ ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ʟɪꜱᴛ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɪɪ

June 9, 2018

I pressed the elevator button with all the force contained in my index finger. I pressed it several times, just to make sure it got the message. The red number at the top marked that it was coming from the fourth floor. I tapped one foot noisily against the ground, trying to relax the nerves that were gripping my stomach. That wait was nerve-wracking.

My heart was pounding. What was I going to do if it was really him? What would I have done if I lifted that sheet and saw – no. I couldn’t even think about it. I pressed my head against the wall, my finger still pressed on the elevator button.

A ding and the doors swung open. I looked up and lost myself in two brown puddles, as deep as the ocean itself. A rather tall boy with brown hair slightly long at the back of his neck stared at me as if he wanted to pierce me through and through. Some wisps fell back in front of his eyes, making his appearance even more disturbing

I read pain in his eyes, a suffering that I could not have explained in words. I looked down and noticed that he had both forearms wrapped in gauze. His square face was clean, but he kept his mouth slightly slanted, his eyes fixed in mine. I found it impressive that he had not yet blinked. Like a predator stalking his prey.

Our exchange of glances lasted a few seconds, until the nurse who was accompanying him made her gaze wander from me to him.

"Do you know her?" she asked him.

The dark-haired shook his head, uttering a simple, deep "No." Then he added, still keeping his eyes on me, "And I certainly don't want to know her." His rough voice sent shivers down my spine. He passed me, brushing my shoulder with his arm. The nurse followed soon after and bowed her head slightly toward me, apologizing for her patient's brusque manner.

I didn't turn around to see where they were headed. Surely, I had more important things to think about. At that moment I wasn’t interested in the rudeness of a stupid little boy, even though he must have been about my age.

I slipped into the elevator and pressed the button with the number -1 on it. The doors closed and I saw the light fade. I wrapped my arms around my body as I felt the elevator begin to move downward. The darkness and the noise of the descent made me even more anxious. The cabin trembled slightly before stopping on the top floor and opening the doors wide.

I stood before a very long white corridor. The light was so bright that I had to close my eyes slightly to let them adjust again. I took one step, then another and another until I saw the “morgue” sign at the top of one of the doors. I reached out my hand, resting it on the handle. And I froze.

I didn’t have the courage. I was literally shivering. And not from the coldness typical of morgues.

I pulled back as if I had just burned myself, continuing to stare at the spotless wooden surface. On the other side of that door could be the answers I had been waiting for an entire year. Or at least some of them. I looked up again, but my hand had no intention of lowering that doorknob. I turned around, frustrated, and squatted on the ground holding my knees.

I was afraid of myself. Of how I would react. Finding out the truth was worse than believing the lie I had constructed for myself. The hope that my father was alive… That was the only thing that allowed me to keep fighting. That was all I had left. What was I going to do if it shattered? How could I be sure that I would not shatter as well? That was what I was afraid of. That I would never be the same again. That I would become my own shadow. That day, my life might have changed.

Maybe I would have done better to wait for someone to arrive. I wasn't sure I could stay there without a competent attendant. The girl at the front desk had told me she would send someone, but I had run off even before she could finish her sentence. Maybe, with someone by my side, I would regain my courage and be able to cross that threshold. All I had to do was wait.

But suddenly, out of nowhere, the notes of a piano resounded.

I lifted my head and turned my gaze toward the end of the hallway. A series of notes was pressed on the keys of a piano, spreading a slow, soothing melody. Between notes, there were moments of silence that accentuated the already gloomy atmosphere due to the rain and thunder. A flash of lightning lit up the sky and I stood up, walking the short distance to the brown door at the end of the hall. The melody continued to proceed in stages, almost as if it was adjusting to the advance of my steps toward the door.

I took a quick glance at the dusty sign placed on one side. Chapel. See a small church next to the morgue was nothing exceptional, but find someone inside was quite unusual. I pushed open the door to reveal two slender shoulders wiggling following the movements of his arms along the piano keys. He had very blond hair and wore a shirt that was white and neat, and above all, loose. So wide that the hem of the sleeves grazed his knuckles. A pair of beige pants wrapped his skinny legs, and on his feet he wore white tennis shoes.

I did not enter the little church, but decided to stay on the threshold. To observe it. The piano was an old brown model belonging to the French brand boisselot fils. It looked really old, but that guy had the ability to make the listener believe that the sound was coming out of a grand piano. I watched him until something changed in his playing. Now his fingers had picked up speed and moved from key to key with extreme elegance, brushing over them as if they were made of porcelain. I could not see his face, but I was convinced that his eyes were closed.

Then the melody slowed down again, until it returned to the series of notes from the beginning, always interspersed with a moment of silence, but one tone lower than the initial ones. He seemed to be reflecting. He was organizing his thoughts, asking himself questions, but unable to find an answer. The questions continued, but his frustration grew as the melody increased and grew louder.

I am angry. I am furious at the world, at those who made me suffer. I fought to the last, but my tenacity was not enough. I just want someone to listen to me, to hear my words full of anger and fear. Because I am afraid of being alone. Because I am afraid of falling into the void and never surfacing again. I am afraid of becoming someone I am not. Looking in the mirror and not recognizing my reflection. I am afraid of myself.

That was what his music was telling me. The thoughts were flowing as if he was directly opening his mouth to speak to me. It had never happened to me before, but his emotions ran over me like a flooding river. I stood in the doorway as my eyes automatically filled with tears. They began to stream down my face without my realizing it.

I could understand his pain. It was identical to mine. I could feel in him my own fears, my own worries. I could tell by the gentle touch that had been replaced with a firmer, more powerful one. Skinny shoulders wiggled under his white shirt; one foot pressed on the pedal while the other went in rhythm with the tune. His fingers began to slide from one side of the piano to the other with frightening coordination and speed, making the muscles under his semi-transparent shirt tense. His anger was rising, as well as the tone of the melody. By now he was at the mercy of his emotions.

I watched as he lowered his head slightly and saw gold earrings jingle from the purposeful movement of his arms. He almost seemed to be holding his breath, choking in his own anguish. I wanted to save him, to pull him out of that raging river and tell him everything would be all right.

I got chills when the music increased again, accompanied by the sound of rain and thunder that ripped through the sky. It was freezing in that room, but I saw drops of sweat that began to trickle down his temple, caressing the soft shape of his chin.

His anger exploded all at once and he stopped suddenly, keeping his fingers resting on the final chord. Then, as if he had left something unfinished, he resumed playing again. The bluish veins stood out on his white hands from the exertion. The rhythm had faded again and he returned to stroking the keys, but this time there was a bitter note in every note he touched. As if his inner debate had ended and failed. The result was still the same. Nothing had changed. His anger was still there, his hatred was still eating at him.

He lifted his hands from the keyboard, almost as if he wanted to leave the melody hanging. A sigh escaped his lips. He lifted one arm against the piano and rested his head on it, letting his damp blond hair brush against his wrist. He was out of breath, as if he had just run a marathon. Through his shirt, I could see his lean shoulders rising and falling.

Then, suddenly, he did a strange thing.

He stood up and picked up the can of gasoline that had always been beside the piano, but which I had not noticed since I had been too focused on him. He opened it with a single wave of his hand and began to pour the clear liquid on the piano. He filled its keys, wetting the wooden surface as well. Then, to my amazement, he began to slide it down his neck and onto his shirt, which immediately became transparent. It looked like he was showering himself with gasoline. I had never seen anything more disturbing in my entire life.

My heart lost a beat when he reached out to grab the small white lighter on the piano. He held it tightly between his fingers and brushed the movable top of it with his thumb. I still couldn’t see his face because his back was to me, but I was sure his expression said nothing good.

“Yah!” I squealed as I entered the room.

The boy turned sharply when he heard my shout, still holding the lighter up. I instinctively stepped back when I met his eyes. The frightened ones of the guy I had seen on the second floor? Or the deep, terrifying ones of the guy in the elevator? They were nothing compared to those who were looking at me at that moment.

Another flash of lightning lit up the sky and I could distinctly see those dark slits, outlined in black. Those thin yet so expressive eyes made me doubt that they were real. There could be no such intense, deep, menacing gaze. It was humanly impossible. He stood motionless watching me as he scanned my face, the lighter still in his hands.

I tried to reason with him; it was the only approach I could attempt.

“Please, put it down,” I pleaded him, pointing to the lighter in his hand. The guy didn’t flinch. He kept looking at my face as if his life depended on it. Only then did I realize that my cheeks were still wet from the tears from earlier. “Talk to me, will you? I don’t know you, but your playing really moved me. I-I am willing to listen to you, if you want.”

On his face appeared one of the most chilling grins I had ever seen. He finally lowered the hand that held the lighter, but he began to move slowly toward me. Reflexively, I stepped back. His steps were slow, heavy. He was not very tall, but because of that, beyond all logic, his figure seemed even more menacing. I stepped back until I realized that he had begun to increase his pace to catch up with me. Frightened by the hostile aura he emanated, I turned my back on him and began to run toward the open door.

I didn’t have time to cross the threshold that I saw a pale, thin arm go over my shoulder and close the door in my face. I dared not turn around, aware that I was trapped between his body and the door he was holding locked with the palm of his hand. I felt his warm breath on my neck and a shiver ran down my spine, right where his chest and my back had made contact.

“Turn around.” The tone was so low that I could barely make out what he had said. His voice was even lower and hoarser than the boy in the elevator. A chill caught me when in turning around I brushed against the arm he was holding up. “Look at me,” he ordered again since I was keeping my eyes down. In doing so, I couldn’t help but notice his completely soaked white shirt. The intense smell of gasoline bothered my nose and made my eyes tingle, but I continued my ascent to his face, meeting first his snow-white neck, then his thin lips and finally his dark, deadly eyes. I immediately lowered mine, unable to sustain his gaze. I swallowed.

He moved even closer to my face, forcing me to press my back against the door. To my surprise, he grabbed my chin and forced me to look him straight in the eyes. I aimed my gaze into his brown irises and saw something snap in them. His eyebrows furrowed even more and he gritted his teeth until he let go of my chin with a snap. The hand that had just released me from his grip closed around my neck again, leaving me no chance to breathe.

I opened my eyes wide, terrified. I clawed at his hand with my fingernails, but my efforts proved utterly futile. His grip grew stronger with each passing second, and his eyes thinned until they almost disappeared. I gasped for air as his face moved closer and closer to mine. Our noses brushed against each other, and I could tell from his satisfied grin how much pleasure he was getting from this situation.

I realized that I had stumbled upon a bloody psychopath.

Almost at the limit of my oxygen supply, I made one last desperate attempt. I pulled my leg back and kicked it forward with all the force I had in my body. I hit him right in that sensitive spot, forcing him to let go and kneel down. I immediately turned to open the door, but my luck could not last that long.

I felt myself being grabbed by my hair, and a second later I felt a stabbing pain in my head. He had slammed me against the piano. My counteroffensive had only ended up infuriating him more. I could tell just by looking at his face. He was livid with rage. Still dazed from the blow from earlier, I saw the room whirling. Because of this I didn't understand what he was doing until I felt him towering over me. Sitting astride my legs, he grabbed me by the collar of my blouse and yanked me forward, forcing me to arch my back.

I was not even in time to realize the situation that I felt something wet hit my face, immediately feeling a deep burning sensation in both eyes. The pain was so bad that I could not help but cry out. A pungent smell of gasoline was occluding my nostrils, and I felt a bittersweet taste in my mouth. My head felt completely wet and I immediately felt nauseous. I tried to open my eyes, but when I did, my vision became completely blurred and I could only catch a glimpse of my attacker’s brown irises injected with blood and evil.

I squinted my eyelids, continuing to scream in pain. My eyes burned, I was short of oxygen and my head ached so badly. I felt the guy’s white hands tighten around my throat again, but this time I had no intention of fighting back. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically. If he wanted to kill me that badly, I was going to let him do it.

Then, I heard the door open wide.

“Holy shit… Yoongi!” I shouted, throwing myself at the boy’s figure. I grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to grab the lighter he was holding. Once again, he had tried to set himself on fire. But this time he was not alone. She was there. The girl I had seen in front of the reception desk who had brought back so many memories. “Yoongi… Yoongi, damn it, let her go!” I shouted again, pinning his arms down and yanking him to pull his hand away from the girl’s throat. Jungsun immediately came to my aid, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him backward.

Yoongi may have appeared weak, but his willpower should not be underestimated.

I sensed an intense smell of gasoline, and once I retrieved the lighter, I threw it into the hallway for safety. Then I went back to dealing with my companion, who seemed to have completely lost control of his emotions.

“We need to sedate him, I’ll go get a syringe,” Jungsun suggested, but we didn’t have enough time. I had to think of something else.

“Yoongi… Yoongi, look at me. Look at me!” I let him go and stood in front of him, covering his view. But his attention was still on the girl lying behind me. He looked possessed; I had never seen him in that state. “SUGA!”

Finally, Yoongi froze, as if he had just awakened from a trance-like state. He fixed his eyes in mine and looked at me bewildered. I sighed heavily. It was amazing that he responded so easily to that name and not to his own. He was completely misguided. I walked over to him and hugged him tightly to stop his shoulders from shaking. He covered his face with his hands, massaging his eyelids heavily. Then he ran his trembling fingers through his damp, sticky hair.

Once I was sure he had finally calmed down, I turned to the girl behind me. She had a wound on the back of her head and was bleeding. I checked her pulse and opened her eyes to take a look at her pupils with a small flashlight given to me by Jungsun. I froze suddenly, checking a second time as a precaution. Damn.

I turned my head to meet Jungsun’s questioning eyes. I cast a glance at Yoongi who was still sitting on the ground with his hands clawed into his blond hair. He was breathing heavily but seemed stable. I went back to look at the girl who had started moving again. I helped her sit up and brought my face closer to hers, noticing that she was keeping her eyes closed.

“Miss,” I said in a whisper. “Open your eyes. Can you see me?”

The brunette remained motionless for a few moments, then, with a tremendous effort, lifted her eyelids. She blinked them once or twice, until she lifted her chin slightly in my direction. She looked at me, but without really paying me any attention. She parted her lips.

“I can’t.”

39 notes · View notes

btsuga-d · 5 months ago

Text

Can You See Me || Chapter VI ʚɞ

↬ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ

𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜, 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝. 𝙸𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚕'𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖, 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍, 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚕. 𝙴𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚞𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚞𝚖𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎. 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝙸𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜?

↬ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ

𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙼𝚒𝚗 𝚈𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒 𝚡 𝙱𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝙾𝙲!𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝙸𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚕

↬ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ

➤ 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔

↬ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ

↬ ᴡᴏʀᴅᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ

4.1𝘬

↬ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎, 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎, 𝚟𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚗𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚊, 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝

↬ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ

𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 🌸 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚢𝚜𝚖. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜' 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝. 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜? 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛. 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚒��𝚞𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚑𝚞𝚐𝚜 🌸🌸

↬ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʟɪꜱᴛ - 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯

ᴍɪɴ ʏᴏᴏɴɢɪ ʟᴇᴇ ɪꜱᴇᴜʟ ᴋɪᴍ ꜱᴇᴏᴋᴊɪɴ ᴋɪᴍ ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ ᴊᴜɴɢ ʜᴏꜱᴇᴏᴋ ᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴊɪᴍɪɴ ᴋɪᴍ ᴛᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴɢ ᴊᴇᴏɴ ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ

↬ ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴠ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ʟɪꜱᴛ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴠɪɪ

flashback

October 26, 2017

The cold in that tiny room was killing me. I could feel the rough fabric of the worn-out mattress that kept rubbing against my bare back. A chill made me shiver from head to toe, and I opened my eyes wide to point them at the mold-filled ceiling. The room was dark and I could see something only through the reflection of the neon lights posted outside the room. A sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway and my lips began to tremble. I only relaxed when I heard that they had passed the room, not paying attention to who was inside. I ran a hand over my face and realized that my hair was stuck to my forehead because of how sweaty I was. How was it possible if I felt so cold?

“Kook?” A hoarse voice rang near my ear and I recoiled in fright. I stared at the thin, pale figure at the foot of my bed. His thin brown eyes were looking at me with sincere concern. He was on his knees and his strained appearance made him even more waxy. He frowned. “Is everything okay? Are you feeling all right?”

“Yoongi-hyung…” I barely whispered as I felt my eyelids getting heavy again.

“You don’t look good.”

“I’m cold.”

His eyes grew wide. He stood up, exhausted from the wound in his leg that was still bleeding. He dragged himself to his bed and grabbed his blanket. He walked back to me and carefully arranged it around my body, making sure to close it tightly around the front. He sat on the edge of my bed and reached out a hand to feel my forehead.

“You’re warm. You probably have a little fever.”

“Hyung, where are we? Why did they bring us here?” I lowered my gaze to his wound. “And why did they hurt you?” I lifted it up to look at his swollen face. They had beaten him. I felt anger growing in my chest again. I had never been the impetuous type, but seeing him in that condition had made my blood rise to my brain. I had tried to pounce on one of them but had gained only a punch in the stomach.

Yoongi was silent for a few seconds. He was thinking. “I don’t know, but we have to find a way to get out of here.”

“How many days have you been here?” I asked him. I had only arrived that morning.

“More than a week.”

I observed his tired and drawn face. He looked as if he might faint at any moment. What had they done to him? What were they doing to him? He had told me that many times they came to take him somewhere. He didn't want to tell me where and clearly avoided the fact that they were hurting him. He had returned to our room more dead than alive. They had thrown him in as if he were a sack of potatoes. I stayed beside him on the floor, feeding him the food they had brought us until he regained the strength to stand up. I had eaten too, and we had gone to bed. I hadn't asked him anything since he seemed too exhausted to tell me anything. But now he appeared more clear-headed than before.

A chilling scream rang out from nowhere, hitting the walls of the hallway and dispersing into the various rooms. We heard it from ours as well. I immediately aimed my gaze at the iron door, which had a small peephole at the top closed by some bars. From there we could see and hear everything that was happening outside. I turned my head toward Yoongi and saw that he was trying with all his might to maintain a cool expression. But the tears and trembling in his eyes made it clear how shaken he was.

I blanched when the scream was repeated. This time we heard it more clearly, perhaps because someone had opened the door where that atrocity was taking place. My hands began to shake as I associated that voice with a face I knew.

"H-Hyung," I stammered terrified. "Hyung, it sounded... it sounded like Jimin's voice... like..." I stood up but was held back by Yoongi. I looked at his face again and saw his conscious expression. He knew. "Is it Jimin?" I asked, letting myself fall back on the bed again. "Is he here too?"

Yoongi nodded and lowered his head. A blond lock fell across his face, covering his brown eyes. He ran a hand over his face and sighed theatrically, wrapping his white fingers around his hair.

Suddenly, I felt a chill run down my spine and an unpleasant sensation hit my stomach. I stood up abruptly, staggering to get to the dirty hole that must have been the bathroom.

“Jungkook?” called Yoongi to me from the other room in a worried tone as I bent over the toilet. I heard him come running into the bathroom despite his injured leg, which caused him to hit the wall. The sound of my gagging filled the room. I emptied my stomach and spit out a green stuff that made me gasp. I felt Yoongi shake my shoulders and tell me something I could not understand.

I don’t know why either. Suddenly I had the impulse to push him away roughly, leaving him speechless. I turned my head and looked at the wall in front of me. I felt strange. I could no longer tell if I was sad, angry, scared. I could no longer feel my body. I couldn’t feel anything. As if I was paralyzed both physically and mentally. I couldn’t even cry anymore.

Yoongi laid a hand on my shoulder and waited in silence until I came back to myself. My emotions unblocked and I returned to breathing again, as if I had been in apnea until that moment. I had never experienced such a feeling, and that thought made my arm muscles contract involuntarily. Yoongi leaned over to see the green substance accumulated in the toilet. He said nothing, flushed the toilet and helped me up to wash my face. Then he carried me back to the bed. He walked over to the trays with the remains of our dinner.

"Kook, what did you eat?"

I looked up, showing him my pale face marked by deep dark circles. "What they brought me. The soup and the two slices of bread. I also drank the water."

Yoongi ran a finger over the plate where some of the soup was left and licked it carefully. Immediately afterwards I saw him spit on the floor what he had just put in his mouth. He also took a painstaking look at the bottom of the glass that was filled with water a few hours earlier.

"Don't eat or drink anything they give you anymore," he ordered, continuing to stare at the glass.

“W-What? Why?”

“They are poisoning you.” His eyes returned to mine. I couldn’t help but cough in surprise. “Or they’re giving you some drugs. I couldn’t tell. Anyway, from now on eat my food.”

“And what will you eat?” I asked him shocked.

He gave me a bitter smile. “Don’t worry about me.”

The door swung open with a sharp bang, and a tall, menacing figure crossed the threshold. The darkness concealed his face, but once he stepped forward, the light from the bathroom illuminated his dark hair and the rest of his face. The first thing I noticed were his hostile eyes, with Western features and such a bright blue that they could have lit up the room on their own. I saw Yoongi take an imperceptible step back and place the glass on the table. Then he clenched his fist. The man turned to look at me with his hands on his hips. His eyes scrutinized me to the core. He observed me as if I were a lab animal. He nodded to the two men dressed in black behind him.

“Take the little boy.” His deep, cutting voice left me stunned. The two henchmen walked toward me, but before they could grab me by the arms, Yoongi shoved them forcefully causing them both to step back. My Hyung positioned himself in front of me with his arms wide open. I held my breath.

“You’ll have to pass over my dead body, you pieces of shit,” he spat angrily. He shifted his gaze to the blue-eyed man. I had never seen Yoongi so threatening. “Twist a single hair on his head, and I swear to God, hell won’t seem so far away.”

A chilling laugh hit my ears. The man’s shoulders were shaken by gasps of amusement. “Oh, Suga. Haven’t you realized that you’re alredy in hell?”

“I have a fucking name. And it’s Yoongi. Stop calling me that, you asshole Dongsun. And are you even Korean? I bet not, given your shitty face."

I swallowed audibly as I tried to get out of bed to pull Yoongi back. I didn’t like the man’s threatening smirk. I wanted Hyung to stop provoking him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you regret every fucking word you dared to spit at me,” he said, arrogantly pushing past the two men in front of him. He threw them aside and lunged at Yoongi, grabbing him by the collar. He punched him so hard that Yoongi fell to the ground.

"Hyung!" I screamed, trying to reach him, but the two henchmen held me back. Normally, I had considerable strength, but my feverish state prevented me from doing anything but struggling unsuccessfully in their grip. They forced me to my knees and pinned my hands behind my back.

"You're the only one causing problems," Dongsun hissed, kicking him in the stomach. Yoongi rolled over, stifling a cry of pain. He bit his lower lip until it almost bled. He squeezed his eyes shut when that bastard kicked him again in the same spot. This time, Yoongi couldn't hold back a sob. "From the start, you've been rebelling and refusing to enter that damned room. But rest assured, I'll fix your attitude. We'll see who wins between us." My heart skipped a beat when he stomped on Yoongi's injured leg, inflicting unbearable cruelty. "You messed with the wrong man, Suga."

I shivered when I heard Yoongi's agonized scream. I wanted to cover my ears, but my hands tied behind my back prevented it. I looked at my Hyung with tears in my eyes, his face contorted with pain. Dongsun smiled as he twisted his shoe on Yoongi's increasingly bloody leg. This man was the devil incarnate. I couldn't believe such a cruel, heartless being existed, capable of deriving pleasure from others' pain. Yoongi grabbed Dongsun's leg, still pressing on his wound, trying to remove it in vain.

"Stop, please!" I shouted, unable to stay silent any longer. "Leave him alone, I beg you," I continued, sobbing. I couldn't bear to see my Hyung suffer anymore. It was tearing me apart. I wished I could take his place, shouldering all the pain he was experiencing. Dongsun looked up at me and pointed.

“Grab that kid and get him out of here.” He crouched to get closer to Yoongi's distraught, lifeless face, his foot still pressing on the wound. He grabbed his blond hair and yanked him forward to bring his face closer. Yoongi gasped for breath. "This time, you've really pissed me off. I'll be more than happy to take my anger out on your beloved Jungkook. He'll be lucky if I don't cut off his balls. This is all your fault, Suga. You have only yourself to blame."

He removed his foot from Yoongi's leg and threw his head back, releasing his hair. Yoongi began to breathe again. He grabbed his wounded leg with both hands and curled up, his shoulders shaking with sobs. The two men behind me forced me to my feet and dragged me across the floor since I was too weak to stand. We passed by Yoongi, and I met his pained, guilty gaze as a tear rolled down his ruined face. I tried to give him a reassuring smile to keep him from worrying, but managed only a grimace.

Dongsun turned to leave with me in tow, but suddenly stopped. The two men halted, and so did I. We all looked down at Yoongi. He was lying face down, and with the last of his strength, had grabbed one of Dongsun's ankles. The latter raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the utterly senseless act.

"Please…" Yoongi slurred, making the cruel man smile. "Please, leave him alone…"

"Suga, are you begging me?" he asked with a mock surprised tone. "This is a first. Since I first saw you, I've only heard you curse. Have you finally given up?"

Yoongi ignored his words. He looked at me. "He's not well; he wouldn't last a day in there." Then he looked up at Dongsun again. His heavy eyelids threatened to close his eyes. "Take me instead."

The man's eyes widened, and mine did too. Unlike me, he burst into loud laughter. "You think you're in better shape? You can't even keep your eyes open."

"I don't give a fuck. Take me to that fucking room or wherever the hell you want. Do whatever the fuck you want, but leave Jungkook fucking alone!" he raged, clenching his free hand into a fist.

Dongsun laughed again. "Damn, that foul mouth of yours is always ready, huh?" Then he stood up, shaking Yoongi's hand off his ankle. "Take him," he ordered the two men, who dropped me to the ground. They lifted Yoongi by the arms and dragged him roughly out of the room.

"No…" I murmured, crawling on the damp floor. They shut the door in my face. "No… No, Hyung. HYUNG!" I grabbed the iron bars and pulled myself up. My knees were trembling. I peeked through the opening and saw Dongsun stopping to talk to a man in his thirties. He seemed to be an officer like him.

My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when I recognized Seokjin-hyung behind them. They had taken him too. Two other men were holding him by the arms.

"Is this the last one?" Dongsun asked the officer. He nodded. Seokjin had his eyes fixed on Yoongi. His expression was unreadable.

"With this one, we're done. How about the kid?"

"I've changed my plans," Dongsun replied, turning to look at Yoongi. "The wild beast has decided to be tamed. I couldn't pass up this opportunity."

"I see. In that case, I'll take care of Jungkook."

Yoongi's head shot up. Dongsun spoke before he could say anything. "Give him a few days, Seojoon. I don't think he's well physically. Give him time to recover, or you'll end up with a corpse in a day." The man nodded, and Dongsun walked away with Yoongi. Seokjin leaned towards him, and they managed to exchange a few words before being dragged away. I read their lips.

"You have to hold on. Promise me, Yoongi," Seokjin whispered.

"I promise," Yoongi replied. "I won't stoop to their level."

They were separated, and my view was blocked by Seojoon's face as he positioned himself in front of the bars. I looked at him. His expression was so serious that it scared me more than Dongsun's. He made sure Dongsun was gone and handed me something through the bars. I grabbed it hesitantly with trembling hands.

It was a photo. It depicted a beautiful girl with black and purple hair, with two bright blue eyes. I shivered thinking they were identical to Dongsun's. In some way, she reminded me of him. She was sitting on a white garden swing, surrounded by greenery. She had joined her thumbs and index fingers to form a heart and wore a white blouse with three-quarter sleeves along with a lilac skirt that reached her feet. Her smile was dazzling, and her eyes radiated boundless love for life. She was breathtakingly beautiful.

I looked up, confused. “Who is she?” I asked, although I already had an idea.

"Someone you'll have to keep constantly in your thoughts from now on," he whispered in a way that made me shudder. I was right. This guy was even more psychotic than Dongsun. He gave me a smile that chilled my blood. We were so close that I could feel his breath tickling my face.

"You and I are going to have a lot of fun together, Jeon Jungkook."

July 22, 2018

“No… No, Hyung. HYUNG!”

Jungkook’s voice echoed in my ears. I woke up with a start and straightened my back. My breath was so rapid that I thought I was suffocating in my sleep. I lowered my head and rubbed my face with both hands. I could feel my heart pounding as if it was about to burst out of my chest. I massaged my sternum, trying to calm those uncontrollable beats.

Another nightmare. Jungkook again.

And again the sensation of not being able to breathe. It had returned after I had spent two days without nightmares and suicidal impulses. I swallowed and let myself fall back, sinking my back into the mattress and my head into the pillow. I spread my arms and closed my eyes.

“Seokjin,” I called. I knew he was always listening. He monitored me twenty-four hours a day. Indeed, after a moment, his voice came through the speakers in the room.

“What’s wrong, Yoongi? Another nightmare?”

“Let me see Jungkook,” I ordered. I must have surprised him, as he didn’t respond. “Lost your tongue?”

“Why do you want to see him?”

“Something made me think of him again,” I admitted, leaving out the fact that I had dreamed about what happened about nine months ago. “I want to see him.”

I heard him sigh. “Alright, just a moment.”

“I’m not moving from here,” I replied sarcastically.

I turned onto my side and let an arm hang over the edge of the bed. I closed my eyes and suddenly remembered the sensation I had felt when those small, soft hands had held me tight and safe. I had felt so good, at peace with the world. As if every problem had vanished into thin air. As if I had never suffered, hated or feared. I laughed at the thought that it had all been a lie. A fleeting, temporary comfort. Still a comfort, but coming from the person I hated more than myself. Why was fate mocking me? Hadn’t I suffered enough?

The lock clicked and the door opened, revealing Seokjin’s tall figure. This time he wasn’t wearing his lab coat. He wore a white sweatshirt with black stripes on the sleeves and black pants with white tennis shoes. This look gave him a younger appearance. It felt like I was back in school.

He didn’t say anything. He just gestured for me to follow him out of the room. I got up from the bed, but as soon as I crossed the threshold, a sense of unease overwhelmed me. I had been confined in that room for over a month. I hadn’t seen anyone except Seokjin… and Hoseok, when he helped me back into bed the other day. I hadn’t said anything to him, and he hadn’t said anything to me. But seeing him had been strange. Strange like the feeling I was experiencing at that moment. Unease. I felt uneasy.

“Yoongi?” Seokjin called. I looked up. “You just need to get used to it again. It’s normal. You’ve been locked in there for a whole month.”

“Because you didn’t want to let me out,” I emphasized.

“No, because you didn’t want to go out. You didn’t want to see anyone, so I thought it best not to push too hard. These things need time to be resolved.”

“There’s nothing to resolve,” I cut in. “It is what it is, get used to it.” Seokjin seemed not to share my pessimism, but for that evening he decided to let it go. And I was grateful for that.

I was surprised when he turned toward the room across from mine. Had I always been so close to him? He opened the door, which of course wasn’t locked, and stepped aside to let me in. I approached hesitantly, and my heart skipped a beat when I began to hear a slow, steady beep coming from inside the room. I stopped in the doorway, and my eyes began to sting when I saw Jungkook’s imposing figure lying in the bed, motionless. He had a respirator attached to his mouth and numerous tubes inserted into both arms. I didn’t dare take another step, but I felt a hand weakly squeeze my shoulder. Seokjin.

“Any improvement?” I asked in a broken voice. I couldn’t hold it back.

“None,” Seokjin admitted. “But we found an unknown substance in his blood.”

I turned abruptly, fixing my eyes on him. I frowned. “What kind of substance?” I asked, noticeably interested.

“We don’t know how to classify it yet. We’re doing various tests, but our research is getting us nowhere.”

I sighed impatiently. I moved closer and sat down in the chair beside the bed. I took the younger’s hand and looked at his face. He was so pale. I buried my face in his cold fingers. “It’s all my fault,” I whispered.

“Yoongi…”

“It’s my fault he’s in this state,” I continued. “It’s my fault he might never wake up again.”

Seokjin seemed to become irritated. He sat in the chair next to mine and placed a hand on my leg. “No one said he won’t wake up. And stop blaming yourself for everything. It’s not your fault, Yoongi. I’ve told you before. You’re just taking responsibility for a crime that doesn’t concern you directly. It wasn’t you who ran over Jungkook.”

I raised my eyes again. I could feel them burning with anger. “But it’s like I did. What do you know about it? You weren’t even there when Jungkook was run over! I saw it all with my own eyes!” I roughly pushed his hand away from my thigh. “You don’t know shit about what happened.”

“Then tell me about it, Yoongi! Why do you keep pushing me away? Why do you keep pushing everyone away? You need to trust me, you need to open up to me. Tell me what they did to you, tell me what they said. Confide in me. We can get rid of the resentment together.” My furious gaze returned to Jungkook, but this didn’t stop Seokjin from continuing his rant. “Every time I try to get close to you, you shut me out. As soon as I try to understand what’s in your heart, you push me away. How can I help you if you don’t let me?”

“I never asked for your fucking help. I never asked for anyone’s help.”

“But you need it! I bet you would open up to Jungkook if he were awake. It’s the first time you’ve shown a desire to go out and meet someone. It’s not that hard. You just need to want it.”

“Get out of here, Seokjin. I don’t want to hear your bullshit anymore.” I turned my head the other way and heard him sigh heavily. He slapped his thighs with force, probably in resignation.

“Fine, as you wish. But I’ll be here in front of the door. In half an hour, you need to return to your room. I can’t leave you alone. I thought you were making some progress, but it seems you’re still a danger to yourself and others.” He got up from the chair and turned to head toward the door until I heard him murmur, “I just hope I don’t regret the choice I made. I accepted someone's help, but I’m aware it might only make things worse.” He hesitated before adding, “I know it could destroy you completely.”

38 notes · View notes