Starman | BTS 8th Member | *ੈ✩‧₊˚(editing)

74.

"Look who's talking." i Spat, turning away, i felt tears leaving my eyes and i tried to hurriedly wipe them away before hoseok saw it and started saying i was attention seeking. This was of course something I had made up in my head. I was trying to show the anger I felt but the tears and sniffling gave it all away.

I no longer felt the pain in my chest, and I no longer tasted the blood in my mouth. There's no need to sit here then. I can go cry by myself, rather than have a one man audience.

He was still standing there when I finally stood up. I moved past him, trying not to touch him in anyway just in case he accused me of trying to hard or something stupid like that.

I went into my room, finally free of his presence.

I don't know why he was there. To mock me? Probably. The deulenonal side of me said maybe he was worried about me. The deranged side of me said he felt the tug of the red string of fate when I fell. If only i wasn't so stubborn and angry I would let these delusions take over me.

I kicked my skateboard across the room, the board shot to my desk, hitting its leg, sending all the books and paper I had precariously balanced, now came crashing down onto the floor.

I had given up with my room a week ago. I stopped tidying because I always felt tired. And I felt no urge to do so. If nothing else brought me joy, clearing my room wouldn't either.

And I had given up with my cd shelf. Even putting back cds was tiresome , so I just didn't bother getting them out.

I jumped as the door banged open, hoseok stood there with a manic expression. The source of my rage had returned for more fighting,

What did I do this time, make too much noise? Breath? Exist even?

"Are you ok... I heard.." he muttered, then pointed to the fallen books. He looked away now looking bashful when he realised I was in one piece.

"Well I'm not dead." I said looking him dead in the eye. He mumbled something then stood there for what felt like 5 minutes.

"yet." I snapped picking up my George Harrison album, inspecting it and checking for marks I didn't recognise. Poor George. He doesn't deserve this.

Hoseok shuffled in, stepping over the odd stack of paper, trying to be discreet, stepping behind my back, sneaking...

I rolled my eyes, turning away from him completely.

I heard him sit down on my bed, still in silence. He was staring, his hands on his knees, still in his bashful state. His eyes may have been fixed on me, but his head was low. He looked like a dog who had just been scolded.

"What do you want?" I glared, and he put his eyes on the floor in shame. I shook my head exasperatedly

"What are you sulking about?" I said, putting down my notes in frustration. He continued his silence.

I knew of course, but i don't know why HE was sulking.

"fine. If you wanna sit then sit. But don't make too much noise, I can't deal with you right now. Just looking at you makes me ill" i muttered carefully.

You only make things worse.

I ignored the voice sneering in my head, the voice as always, extremely annoying and saying things that were always painfully true. We as a collective cannot agree on anything, thats why we always fail.

Hoseok sat there for an hour. In that time I had sorted out my desk, swept my floor. My room was practically clean now.

The only thing that wasn't tidy. Was my bed.