The Suitors: A BTS fanfic

20

Y/n POV

You really didn't want to talk about it. You didn't even want to think about it. Every time your mind even slightly wondered to Min Yoongi; tears found their way to your eyes. It was a strange feeling, though. Half of your tears were composed of complete sadness and despair. The other half were angry tears, laced with red hot frustration and teetering hatred. How could he do this to you? You had concluded quite a while ago that he was fickle—hot and cold when it came to feelings and interactions with you. But once he spoke those sweet words in your ear and kissed you like you were the only girl in the universe, you thought he had made up his mind and his bipolar behavior had subsided.

Obviously, you were wrong. And that is why half of your tears were so full vexation and resentment.

Isabella had consoled you since she found you early this morning, lying on the floor where you had fallen asleep crying. She stroked your hair as you sat together on the couch and you cried into her lap.

She was exactly the kind of person you needed right now. She didn't ask any questions and you didn't answer any although you knew she must have many. She just sat and listened as you wallowed in self-pity. You felt pathetic. Pathetic that you had let yourself fall in love with a man that felt nothing in return. Pathetic that you had confessed to him and he had to so explicitly tell you that he was not in love with you. Pathetic that you thought he would love you in the first place. Pathetic that you now laid here, covered in your own tears and sadness.

The dark voices in your head had returned. The voices that you hadn't heard since you met Yoongi. They told you things that only made you cry harder.

Of course, he didn't love you. You don't deserve to be loved.

No one loves you.

You think those people you call "friends" love you?

One of them is paid to like you and the other is being held here against her will.

You're so fucking stupid.

So stupid.

So pathetic.

So unlovable.

And now all you can do is sit here and cry.

Some queen you'll be.

Your mind spat at you with gruesome words. Some of them, you logically knew couldn't be true. Or maybe you just hoped so much they weren't true you had convinced yourself they weren't. But some of the words burrowed into your bones and found refuge in your soul. You no longer cried solely because the man you loved didn't love you back. But because you were such a miserable excuse of a person. And you were supposed to be queen? What a sick joke.

***

When Noor came, the tears on your cheeks had dried a little and you no longer sobbed audibly. She sat down on the floor next to the couch and took your hand in hers, rubbing circles on your skin tranquilly. The three of you stayed there for a while, in comfortable silence. They could tell you were hurting, and you were grateful for their quiet support and love.

Isabella rose from her spot when a servant brought in some tea. She poured the hot liquid into three teacups and you all sat down on separate couches now, covering yourselves in heavy blankets to fight off the draft that blew through the castle.

You took a sip of the tea and it soothed your aching throat. None of you had spoken for so long, so it made you jump slightly when Isabella finally spoke. "Are you feeling better?"