𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃

71 | tres leches

Nox

Three years ago...

The next day, I meet Yoongi at the library just like we agreed yesterday and that's when I realize for the first time that I don't have any of his socials or his number, so when he's shows up late after fifteen minutes, I try my best not to show my disappointment at his lack of punctuality because he seems a little bit stressed.

He's wearing the same clothes as yesterday and the same windbreaker. The same black baseball cap is sitting on his head, concealing his eyes from the rest of the world while black spikes of hair fall over his face. Strangely enough, he smells like detergent despite wearing the same clothes all the time. His steps are heavy, and his gaze focused on the floor rather than what's in front of him. Once he reaches our spot, he puts his black backpack down and plops down on the chair next to me, not saying a word.

"Hi, Yoongi." I say calmly. "Is everything okay?"

But then he turns to me and gives me a widespread smile that almost convinces me that the sadness I saw clouding him whole was completely fake.

"Yeah," he chimes. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know, you seemed a little off when you walked in."

"Sorry, I was late." He tells me while scratching the nape of his neck. "Got a little distracted on the way."

"It's okay," I assure him and, in that moment, as I gaze into his eyes, I see dark circles framing them. "If you're tired, we can re-schedule for another time."

"No, it's alright. I need a distraction." He mutters as he looks through his bag.

A distraction from what?

I take out my copy of 'Lolita' and put it on the desk while he rummages through his things for notes when I catch the unmistakable scent of weed; it smelled just like his car. I sit straight on my chair and narrow my eyes in his backpack when he finally zips it shut and puts it back on the floor.

"So, where were we left off?" He finally asks and with that he flips through the pages of my copy and begins the tutoring session.

Three hours go by without a single break and my hand is strained from jotting down notes. My brain feels like a heavy boulder in my head and the walls of my skull aren't big enough to contain it. Yoongi was an impeccable teacher as usual, but I could tell that something was wrong, and he only continued talking and talking nonstop because he wanted to keep his mind off things.

At some point, I got tired of writing, so I asked him to stop for five minutes and much to my luck he complied. During our session, he had one hand clutching the fabric of his jeans and his leg was fidgeting. I could tell he was nervous about something, but I couldn't bring myself to ask him what was troubling him. I didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable.

"Let's stop here, because I think I'm starting to bore you with all this shit." Yoongi finally announces and with that the lesson comes to a close.

He doesn't ask me about the payment I owe him; I don't know whether he's forgotten all about it or he's simply ashamed to ask, but I gather up all of my things and once I shut my bag, I take his hand in mine and drag him out of the library.

"What are you doing?" He asks. "Where are we going."

Once we're outside of the library, I let go of his hand and unzip my bag to take out a container filled with the beef tacos I made this morning.

"Hold this," I tell him, and he takes the container as I take out a second smaller container with a fruit salad and cream on the side.

"I don't know what is going on with you Yoongi that made you so sad and gloomy, but a payment is a payment and if this won't cheer you up, I honestly don't know what will."