You walked in through the door, feeling the familiar pain and exhaustion you were used to. You decided you were going to tell him.
You walked into the apartment, breathing in the warm scent of home, an aroma that you loved so much. A smell of Yoongi entwined with yours.
Opening the door, you noticed the natural and recognizable silhouette sitting on the edge of the couch. His posture was one he often did when he was occupied by something lingering in his mind, the kind he often did when he was stressed - elbows resting on his knees, hands clenched together with his mouth resting upon them.
'Jagi-' you started.
'When were you going to tell me?' He interrupted, questioning you in a harsh yet calm deep voice, not looking up at you.
'When were you going to fucking tell me?'
You weren't exactly sure of what he was questioning you about, whether it was going to be what you were planning on telling him or something else.
'What are you talking abou-'
'You know exactly fucking well what I'm talking about. I saw the fucking texts. You don't think I noticed? How you always go out and never tell me where? How, when I ask you tell me it's to see an old friend? How you are growing more distant to me everyday?!' He finally looked up at you, eyes meeting yours, eyes full of hatred directed towards you. 'I know exactly what's been going on. Namjoon, huh? Didn't think I'd find out.'
You frowned slightly, unsure of where this was going, a crease forming between your brows.
'I saw the fucking texts. 'When are you going to tell him?' '12:30, yeah?' 'When should I pick you up?' 'When are you telling Yoongi?' Well?! When were you going to tell me?! About how you've been fucking Namjoon? Fucking answer me!'
You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond, the pain becoming more evident with tears threatening to fall from your eyes.
'Did you even fucking love me? Did you even think of me whilst you were whoring around with my best friend, whilst I was working my ass off to buy us a house?'
'Yoongi-'
'For fucks sake, (Y/N), my best friend. My best friend and my fiancé. Whatever, I don't fucking care, I never even loved you anyway.' He bites his lip, immediately regretting the words that slipped through his lips. You lowered your gaze, hesitating for a second. Turning to leave, you grabbed your jacket and your keys.
'(Y/N), I-'
'You're right,' you interrupted before he could say anymore, 'I'm sorry, you're right.' You bit into your lip, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall. Slowly and shakily, you slid off the pretty ring that had rested on your finger, feeling the cold bite at the area it used to be. You calmly settled it onto the surface of the small island in your kitchen next to the front door. 'I'm sorry. Thank you for taking such good care of me,' you mumbled, glancing back at the man you loved so much, feeling the pain worsen with every second you lingered. You shot him a weak smile before opening the door and leaving, feeling the absence of the once familiar ring.
Once you left the apartment, you couldn't keep it all in anymore. You managed to walk away a few steps before collapsing against the wall, heaving and wincing with every sob that left your mouth. Your cheeks felt wet and you struggled to pull your phone out of your pockets, the weight of it aching your arm. You slowly and clumsily dialed his number.
'(Y/N)? Is everything okay? Did you tell him?'
You choked on your sobs, unable to get clear words out.
'J-Joonie, h-help. It-It hurts... It hurts, Namjoon, please,' you managed to gasp out between sobs. On the other end, the man hastily dialed the numbers that were on his speed dial, panicking at the sound of your strained voice. It didn't take long until he arrived at your side, knowing immediately you wouldn't be far from his friends apartment and soon after, an ambulance appeared.
The journey was torturous, the pain engulfing you completely. You screamed out multiple times, clutching onto Namjoon's hand, your knuckles white. You should've been used to it by now, but you weren't. Soon after, you tarted hyperventilating, struggling to get breaths out in between sobs and groans. You felt them placing the cold mask ontop of your face, calming your gasping for air. You pleaded for them to put you to sleep, like they had done so many times before to numb the pain. This time you felt more desperate, eager to mask the pain you felt in your chest.
