𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃

79 | the calm before the storm

Nox

Three years ago...

I haven't spoken to Yoongi in a week. And somehow the week has flown by so fast, I can't even remember what day it is. I've started to fall behind on my other classes, except English Lit and my volleyball position is starting to get jeopardized once again.

I can't focus on anything other than training and practice and the anxious thoughts are playing on my mind like a broken record. However, nothing much has changed ever since his outburst at Oddfellow Cemetery. I still walk in and out of classes and corridors like I'm sleepwalking; I never see him around. Ever since our fight it's as if he's disappeared like smoke. He never sits near the stairway with his head buried in a book and a blunt dangling from his bony fingers. I no longer see him walk with his head down in the crowded hallway amidst clueless people nor have I seen him hiding under the bleachers watching me from the sidelines as I train relentlessly for hours.

His Jeep Commander has never left the parking lot though. It's always parked in its usual spot, and I find it odd that I haven't seen him at all last week. Even though, I'm still not over the way he talked to me, I still hope he's doing alright wherever he is. Not that I didn't deserve it. I totally had it coming.

I was the one who invaded his privacy. I was the one who followed him out in Falcon Cove when he clearly stated he wanted to be left alone, so I don't have the right to be angry at him.

So why I am still angry at him?

I followed him out in the middle of fucking nowhere at a cemetery where he was crying for his loved one and here, I am feeling despondent for the way he reacted.

I was absolutely crushed when he yelled at me. When he stepped on the cake I made. When I went home, I locked myself in my room with a roll of toilet paper and cried myself to sleep.

The more I think about it the angrier I get. I admit, I overstepped his boundaries and he's right for being aggravated, but I certainly didn't deserve to get yelled at like that.

Who the fuck do you think you are to me?

It hurt. It really did.

His voice was sharper than a knife.

His tone felt as if he was twisting that knife in my chest.

And that look in his eyes, that empty, soulless expression was just a mask, like his sarcastic remarks. For a fleeting moment, it had come crumbling down, he had finally let himself fall to pieces. That was the first time I saw him this vulnerable and for some strange reason I was relieved he was still capable of reacting like that. As fucked up and wrong as it sounds, I was happy to see him cry; to see him finally let go and just surrender to the heat of the moment. I could see the pain he was carrying in his eyes, the weight of it all was smothering him.

He's always on his feet, always on standby in case anything happens.

But it wasn't as if he was afraid of someone. He wasn't frightened of a specific someone.  

When I looked in his eyes, at first, all I could see was an ache buried deep inside. The kind of sadness that is intermingled with bittersweet memories of love and loss playing in an endless loop on your mind. Something he is fighting to resist and yet the pain feeds off him only growing bigger. He's torn between letting it consume him entirely or simply letting every part of him rot away.

The kind of sadness that lingers on you until it loses its meaning. It's the kind of anguish that washes through your body like a wave, dragging you underwater with its forceful current. The kind of sadness that makes you hit rock bottom in the end of the deep blue sea. It's tied around your ankle like a cinderblock; the more you swim, the more you trash and fight your way to the surface, the further down you sink. The light glimmering at the top once shining brilliant, has now turned into a fragment of a spark ready to dissipate. It's nothing more than a star shining in the midnight sky amidst millions and millions of stars and galaxies.