Living Nightmare | m.y.g (angst/smut)

Chapter8- Red Mark ◆

The glow of the moonlight passing through the window that shines directly on my toes at this moment gave me more reasons to avoid sleep. The night is growing deeper and so the dark circles under my eyes.

Never in my life have I imagined some random guy I don't even know will grant me the first kiss. Traditionally, I would imagine it doing with a guy I prefer to love. But Yoongi?

Mind you, I was in the process of turning into a prostitute. That, if I didn't escape the syndicate house. When I decided to kick that guy's leg, I'm not just saving myself, my freedom and my dignity, but also the fact that I wanted to be treated by a guy romantically, I wanted to save my first kiss.

Images of Yoongi kept rewinding in my mind. It wouldn't let me close my eyes because the moment I closed it, nothing's new, I could still see him at the back of my lid. Even his memory held me captive.

Certain questions never leave my curious mind. Why did he do that? What's with the kiss? Why did Yoongi kiss me? Was I dreaming when it happened? How I really wish it were all just a dream.

But no, when I accidentally bite my tongue earlier, I feel like grabbing my hair because of the lingering pain. That act certainly gave me the confirmation. No dream was happening, instead, it was all a very good set up Min Yoongi perfectly arranged.

Picking up my slipper, I went outside to check out if he slept again on the couch. Peeking out like a fragile mouse, not ready to be eaten by a cat, I closed the door slowly and tiptoed my way into the living room.

No Yoongi on the couch.

I stared up at the second floor of the house. His room seemed to be so peaceful, but the light was still on. Didn't he apply what I'd told him last night?

I stayed sitting on the couch until my eyes gave in and fell asleep.

***

Yoongi

The moment she walked away from me, my world fell crashing down on my feet.

I admit, I drank too much but that doesn't mean I can't keep my mind working. I could clearly see all her reactions, and it was actually replaying in mind right now. All of her at that moment felt like paradise to feel, her lips, it felt ecstatic to kiss and the scar on her chest, it felt heaven as I touched it.

My feet was itching to go downstairs again and talk to her, apologize for what I've done. But I can't do it. I'm too coward to clean up my own mess.

I went down to get a glass of water. I feel thirsty because of the alcohol and exhaustion from that stupidity. Standing at the first step of the stair, my eyes immediately located her glorious presence.

Why was she sleeping on the couch?

I contemplate whether to scoop her up and bring her to her room or just cover her with a blanket to protect her from the chilly cold?

Pffft. Still the same. She'd still know that I did it to her. She'll just realize that I wasn't dead drunk that moment and that I meant everything I did to her. I guess, pretending to be drunk is already an excuse, so it's better to leave it like that.

Damn this conscience. I hate it for bugging me whenever I don't need it.

I went back to my room and forget about satisfying my thirst. I forced myself to sleep so that I wouldn't look like a zombie when I woke up.

YOUR POV

Earlier than seven in the morning, with no ray of the sunshine striking through the window, I woke up because of the blatant sound of the glass that fell on the ground. I opened my eyes and saw his Mom on the counter.