He felt it. The pure adrenaline coursing through his veins and pumping into his bloodstream, only egged on by the crowd fiercely chanting, its collective voice strong and overpowering, rolling over him like large herculean waves.
The cheers pierce his ears like the tip of an arrow, they cause a pounding ache to arise in his head and force a petty chuckle out of his mouth. The crowds' eyes were - as much as he wished they were - not on him.
No, in fact, the only eyes looking his way were two pairs of very disappointed orbs, searing wholes into the side of his skull like very personal laser beams. He could not bring himself to turn his body and meet their harsh gazes. Because then, he would have to face the fact that he had lost. This and everything else.
"Congratulations!" The voice is distant but boisterous and painfully amplified by the jarring ring of the microphone in their hand. The thunderous clapping of the ignorantly obnoxious crowd is the spark needed to start a crackling fire deep in his chest. Because he had tried. He had tried so very hard. And they looked as if they could not care less.
"Thanks-" And he could hear him go on and he could see his irritatingly soft lips move but the moment that pretty voice had hit his eardrums, the boy absolutely and completely blocked him out. As if he had gone deaf, the horrible noisy, enthusiastic crowd had fallen silent. The only sign that they were still there was the low hum of voices that hadn't completely escaped his hearing yet.
He squeezes his eyes shut, belatedly realizing the moisture that had infected them after a stray tear falls from his eyelashes. The recognizable sting of his nose and the sob he could feel begging to be torn from his throat warns the boy that the tear that had just rolled off his face was not the last. Far from it, actually.
Determined not to break down on stage, He harshly turns around, startling the students next to him. He dashes off stage, graduation gown heavily trailing behind him and runs back into the school building. Crying in the single-stall bathroom was not ideal but at least it was private.
Min Yoongi was not the type of person to hold grudges, but Park Jimin had just stolen everything from him.
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𝔸𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕤 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕥
Fanfiction𝕃𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕞𝕠𝕥𝕙 𝕕𝕣𝕒𝕨𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕞𝕖 Join two men on their unexpected journey; from despising one another and wanting to kill each other to still despising one another but wanting to kiss each other, instead. But spoiler alert! They've al...
