Where you came from | m.yg

vii

As always, I wake up in my giant king sized bed. However, not as always, I spot a certain someone sleeping at the foot of my bed. Quietly and slowly, I inch towards Yoongi, and hit him on the back.

"Ouch!" He yelps, and I put a finger to my lips.

"Shut up!" I hiss, my eyes darting towards the door.

Yoongi winces. "Sorry." He apologizes. Then he sits up straight. "Why did you hit me?" He asks.

I look at him as if he's grown another head. "Are you kidding me?" I shriek, then put a hand over my mouth. "Because you fucking came into my room!" I whisper shout.

Yoongi smiles sheepishly. "Sorry about that, but I really have nowhere else to go."

I roll my eyes. "I don't care, just don't come here. Get out." I demand, and Yoongi sighs.

"Alright." He gives in, and vanishes.

I shudder, feeling chills on my back. "He's like a freaking pervert." I comment.

...

"Dad?" I knock on the door to my dad's room. "Hello?"

As per usual, I am answered with silence, and sigh quietly before retreating back to my room. "Never mind."

...

Today it's the weekend, so I settle on doing homework.

I pull out my math textbook from my backpack, and attempt solving a few problems. Unable to concentrate, I find myself continuously staring out the window. After catching myself doing this for the fifth time, I smack myself.

"Concentrate, Ji Yeon!" I scold myself.

I shake myself, trying to shake all the seemingly nervous energy away. It doesn't work. Maybe I should go outside for a while. I suggest to myself.

...

As I'm jogging, I tie my thick, long, almost-blue—looking—black hair back into a ponytail.

After tying my hair, I increase my running speed. Usually whenever I'm stressed, I like to exercise. It's my way of releasing stress without really physically releasing it. Well, either that or I end up bullying someone. But I usually prefer the option that doesn't make someone end up in a hospital or possibly a coma.

Feeling a pinch in my chest, I breathe in, then out. "Relax, Ji Yeon." I tell myself. "Don't get so worked up over nothing."

"Yeah, don't be stressed!" Says an annoyingly cheery voice, and I turn to my left.

It's Yoongi, who's in a white t-shirt and black shorts, beaming at me.

I stop jogging when I see him. "When did you get here?" I question, raising my eyebrows, suspiciously. Maybe he really is a pervert, and a stalker too, and he's been stalking me. I shudder, disgusted at the  thought of Yoongi being a pervert stalker.

"About two minutes ago." Yoongi answers, and I feel the itch to wipe the optimism off his face.

"Well go away now."

Yoongi shakes his head. "I don't want to." He argues stubbornly.

For once I'm in no mood to argue, as I just roll my eyes, and start running again.

At one point, Yoongi catches up to me, so I speed run ahead until there's a considerable distance between us. Which is to say, ten meters.

Believing that he's tired of keeping up with me, I slow down, only to find him trailing less than a meter behind me. "Ugh!" I groan, and begin to speed up again.

After about ten minutes of running, I come to an immediate halt. Hands on my knees, and my legs bent, I breathe in sharply, wanting to gulp up as much air at a time as possible. "God," I gasp, "he's so persistent."

"Who's persistent?" Yoongi again appears next to me.

Coughing, I put a hand on Yoongi's arm, to stabilize myself. After about a minute of nonstop coughing and wheezing, Yoongi starts to look worried. I guess he should be—I'm jumping around coughing so much that I must look like an over caffeinated ballerina.

"Woah, Ji Yeon." He says, hitting me on the back. "Are you alright?" He questions.

I put my index finger up, motioning that I can't speak at the moment, and slip my asthma inhaler out of my pocket. I insert the opening of the inhaler in my mouth, and shakily puff the medication into my mouth. Like a miracle, as soon as I breathe in the medicine, I stop coughing.

"What was that?" Yoongi inquires, looking dumbfounded.

I roll my eyes. Do angels really have that limited knowledge of humans? "I have asthma, you dumbass."

Yoongi suddenly quiets. "Oh."

Feeling a little awkward, I begin to walk away.

"Where're you going?"

I wave my hand dismissively. "Home." I answer. Then I spin around again, suddenly remembering something. "And you better not tell anyone about my asthma." I warn, glaring at Yoongi.

Yoongi nods, grinning. "Your secret's safe with me!" He says, waving to me.

I ignore him, and continue walking until I can't hear him anymore. That's what I'm afraid of, Yoongi. My secret is safe with you.