"Even when a star dies, it gives birth to another one. It's mere existence is life and growth. One day I wish to be as infinite as the stars. To exist forever, if at least in their hearts."
When you left, you were not looking for a savior.
When he...
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TW: slight mentions of abuse, rape, depression, and anxiety
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This is not exactly how you expected to meet Min Yoongi.
His hand tightens around your wrist as he drags you through the halls of BigHit, and you silently pray that your small legs can keep up.
Looking up at him, you can't help but be a bit confused.
Why is he so angry anyway?
You didn't do anything to him.
Certainly nothing worth yanking your arms off.
Wincing as he turns a corner, your eyes widen as he opens a door and practically shoves you inside a dark room. You stumble a bit, an inner instinct inside of you resurfacing. You find yourself frantically looking for any form of exit, any form of a way out. When you find none, you swallow hard, feeling your hands palpitate with cold sweat and your breathing run short. Turning briskly to where Yoongi stands in front of the door, you step forward, ready to push past him and bolt before you're hurt, but the look in his eyes stops you.
They're soft, confused and slightly caught off guard. You wonder if the fear that prickles off of your skin is as evident to him as it is to you. Taking a deep breath, you swallow hard, trying hard not to show your discomfort. Inwardly, you chastise yourself for even considering that Min Yoongi would have any malicious intent towards you, but you can't help it when put into a situation like this...
Dark room.
Blocked exits.
No way of escape.
You can't help but be on your guard.
A bit confused, but choosing not to question it, Yoongi gestures towards a clothing rack to the left. Blinking, you turn towards it, begging yourself to relax. When he advances into the room, however, you flinch and frantically back up, straight into a tray of forgotten makeup and hair products.
He immediately stops at the reaction, and you downcast your eyes shamefully praying he doesn't realize what you've tried so hard to cover up. However, as he takes in your frightened eyes, tense stance, and the shallow breath, he knows that somehow he has triggered a memory.
From the looks of it, even a form of trauma.
Definitely not what I expected.
Taking a deep breath, he turns on the light before turning to you with his hands up in a form of surrender. Almost a peace treaty. "Relax, I'm just trying to get a shirt for you."
You swallow hard, already feeling a bit better with the light on. Chuckling nervously, you straighten and nod, running your hand through your hair.
