His skin was too tough to crawl under.
His walls were too high to climb.
His mind was too black to see.
His true heart was too far to reach.
It was as if he locked himself away deep in his own dungeon designed to be his personal asylum with only...
While you were in the shower, Yoongi was downstairs watching the news on your flatscreen in pure boredom. He was so utterly bored, he had no idea what to do with himself. So, off to the news he went.
The screen changed for a breaking news. Yoongi was still bored. The reporter mentioned a young elderly couple were found dead and hung publicly by ropes around their necks on a street light post. A censored image was shown on the screen. When the couple's names were identified, Yoongi couldn't breathe. It was said that "Min Yoongi" was crudely carved in the fronts of their necks.
(A/N: This was inspired by a Bruce Lee movie lol. I don't remember what it's called, but it's about revenge.)
Yoongi immediately shut off the TV. Tears flooded his eyes. He wondered why he should care, yet his emotions were choking his throat. First came shock, then came melancholy, and lastly came rage.
He threw the remote across the penthouse with aggression and practically ran out the door and slammed it as hard as he could. He knew at this point that he pissed somebody off, that he was being targeted to come out of the shadows and join the hunt. He was half-tempted to let himself be the prey for the thrill of the hunting game.
Five minutes later, you exited the shower and pulled on your sleep clothes. Coming downstairs, all was silent. You accidentally stepped on the TV remote on the floor. Confused, you picked it up and set it on the sofa armrest.
Yoongi was nowhere to be found. You took the decision to go look for him, so you slipped on your shoes. Downstairs, you checked the apartment building lobby. Nothing. You wandered into the bar restaurant. No boyfriend. You searched the car garage. Mustang and Cadillac's still there. You went outside to the front of the building. No sign of him. There was only one last place you could look.
In the apartment building gym, you spotted a figure with jagged clothes and shaggy hair punching the shit out of a punching bag with every passionate shout. There he was. Yoongi never came down here unless he needed to let out a lot of steam. But seeing all the aggression he was putting into each strike, he was more than pissed. Those were attacks of hatred and loathing.
It saddened you to see him like this. He was trapped in a raging river, and you didn't know how to rescue him. The Yoongi you knew was currently gone. What you were seeing was a demon that silently lived patiently inside him until Yoongi was vulnerable and caved in to his dangerous anger.
You stood closer to him. You noticed he was wearing black brass knuckles to throw every punch. You had never seen them before. You didn't even know he had any.
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With an enraged shout, Yoongi struck the bag fiercely with a single forward step, delivering a lethal blow. It flew off its hook and hit the wall across from him, and it had tears in it from the little spikes on his brass knuckles. He huffed, gritting his teeth as his bangs curtained his burning red eyes. His vicious snarl broke into a heavy stream of tears down his red cheeks and tense neck. His breath was sharp and stuttery.
