"At night when the stars light up my room, I sit by myself, Talking to the Moon."
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Lee (Y/N) ─ a college student majoring in the performing arts, more particularly ballet. Reserved, sensitive, and your stereotypical loner, she's not one to talk ─ t...
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Hands meticulously looping around in muscle memory, you tie your Converse high tops gracefully. Your head stays downturned for a moment, eyes focusing on the simple task before pulling the loops together, tightening the tie. Just after you finished, Yoongi looks to the side blatantly, eyebrows slightly furrowed. You wouldn't have noticed it if not for your peripheral vision.
"Strange shoes," he comments, grabbing his elbow with one hand. Raising an eyebrow, you aren't exactly sure if that's supposed to be an insult or an observation. Nonetheless, you spoke up, using your legs to raise from your kneeling position.
"You've never seen a girl wear Converse highs?"
Yoongi tilts his head, looking at the wall. "I have. At concerts, at least. Men, women, and others tend to wear them a lot from what I've observed."
With a small, breathy laugh, you smile. "What's wrong with them on me, Yoongi?"
Yoongi dares to make eye contact with you, and when he does, you just barely catch his pupils enlarge, his expression altering only scarcely. There's about a four foot distance between the two of you, and from that space you can easily sense that he's almost taken aback from your response.
There's almost an innocent lusting, a yearning in that tense, fleeting spark of the meeting of two awarenesses. That acknowledgment, that fastidious, short time of searching and confirming the littlest of details of one another. The thing is, neither of you, despite being both being observant, know what these details even truly mean, but you feel it.
Boldly, he breaks the relation, a more casual eye movement set into place.
"You're... It's just not the same."
Your heart does a weird flip, millions of ideas and concepts flooding into your brain, entering your thought process. It's as if someone, or maybe the cause was him, is shaking anything rational that could possibly be in your brain as if it's a fruitful tree. But this fruitful tree is willing to lose all of its apples for somebody like him.
'What am I even thinking about? I sound insane.. reacting like this over something like that. I'm acting like one of those girls in the fan fictions I used to read in middle school..'
Ultimately, you decide to not respond. A meager burst of red emerges on your face, rooting from your thoughts and noticeable as you turn from Yoongi to the front door of your home.
"W-We should go. Meg is probably waiting on us at Starbucks," you utter shyly, hand reaching for the silver-toned doorknob before twisting and turning it. The door slings open semi-harshly, a result form your sudden bashfulness. 'Just when I was starting to get more friendly with him, too. Now I'm gonna overthink every word he speaks.'
