😫25

118 20 3
                                    

It's a good thing you made friends with some upperclassmen when you were a freshman.

After packing your belongings into your little suitcase and standing in the lobby of Taehyung's apartment complex, i remember that one of your old friends who had graduated last year still lived in an off-campus apartment since he would be beginning graduate school at the same university.

"Yoongi?" i ask when you hear him pick up my call.

"dahyun? What's up?"

"Long story," i say with a sigh. "Would it be alright if I stayed with you until school started?"

"Holy shit, you're on campus? What the fuck, yeah, sure, you know where I live. I'll be here whenever you stop by," he says without question.

Fifteen minutes later, i am now standing outside his door, double checking to make sure you'd got the right apartment.

i barely get the first knock in before the door swings open to reveal Min Yoongi himself, clad in all black and looking very tired.

"Are you okay?" i ask. He looks exhausted.

"I could ask you the same thing," he says, ushering you inside.

"Have you been up all night?" i ask, resting my suitcase against the wall.

"I took a brief nap between two and three, but yes, I have been," he says like it's natural.

"You've always been a chaotic sleeper," i say with a shake of your head.

"The grad school grind stops for no one," Yoongi says with a sigh. "What's up? Why are you on campus?"

"It... it's a long goddamn story. Do you have time?"

"I have a piece due for a small indie band tomorrow at noon that's barely finished," Yoongi says.

"Oh," i say. i suppose the story can wait. Yoongi offered up his abode to you until classes resumed if you needed it, and there's no way in hell you'll be going back to Taehyung's.

"What do you mean, 'Oh'? I got loads of time," Yoongi says. He plops down on his couch and motions for you to sit next to him. "Tell me everything."

Yoongi has always been a particularly good listener. Not just to other people's words, but to music, to the sounds of the chords and the notes of the piano. He has an ear for things that most others would never notice.

It's the same thing for when he's doling out advice.

"To clarify," Yoongi says when you're finished telling your story, thirty minutes later. i had warned him that it would be a long one. 

"You had once hated his guts, but no longer hate his guts?"

"I stopped hating him after freshman year," i admit, more to muself than to Yoongi. It's true. The moment the two of you stopped seeing each other, everything dissipated.

"And now you like him."

"We're friends," i say, tentatively. Maybe less than friends after the disaster that just went down in his living room.

"But he drew you a portrait of yourself," Yoongi mentions.

"I said that it was complicated," i say with a frown.

"It doesn't sound that complicated," Yoongi says. And maybe he is a graduate student with more life experience under his belt than you, but you think that it's pretty complicated.

"What do you mean?"

"It sounds like he likes you, and you like him. I wasn't really interpreting it in any other way," Yoongi says casually.

You reject the notion immediately. "I do not like him."

Yoongi frowns. "Would you really be here, in my apartment having a relationship breakdown, if you weren't confused about your feelings for him? Really?"

"I just needed to get out of his damn apartment, that's all," i say, avoiding eye contact. Yoongi has this very annoying habit of being extremely reasonable all of the time, and it bothers you immensely.

"Sure, okay. dahyun, I'm not gonna dictate how you feel and try to change your mind, or anything. But if you can look me in the eye before the end of your break and tell me, one-hundred percent honestly, that you don't like him, then I'll believe you," Yoongi tells you simply. "How about that?"

It sounds like a very doable deal. Maybe it's not doable right now, but it certainly seems possible in the future. In the future, specifically.

"Fine. But you're making a big deal out of nothing," i tell him matter-of-factly. Why does he care? It's not like you're worried about it. 

Stuck in my headWhere stories live. Discover now