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"Alright. Let's go, Nozomi. Get your lazy ass up." A deep voice woke me from my slumber. Suddenly, the cool air assaulted the bare skin of my legs. This made me remember I was sleeping in only a large white t-shirt and pink underwear. His t-shirt. This only made me want to go back to sleep more. "Wake up."
I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the light. My head was barraged with a series of sharp pains as I managed to make out a man standing at the foot of my bed. Min Yoongi. In his hands was my comforter. I knew I drank too much last night. The light stung the backs of my eyes, and my mouth tasted like death. I sent a withering glare to Yoongi before flopping back onto my bed and slapping my pillow over my head.
"Nope. Not today. We're gonna get up and do something today." He said, grabbing me by my foot and yanking me towards the end of the bed. I squeaked in surprise as he continued to pull me until fell off the bed. I winced as my ass hit the cold hardwood floor.
"What the fuck, asshole?" I croaked. My throat felt like sandpaper.
"Goodmorning, sunshine." Min Yoongi said sarcastically. I slumped onto the ground that was littered with clothes and empty bottles of alcohol. With anyone else, I'd be at least a little embarrassed of the state my apartment was in, but this was Yoongi. I was closer with him than any of the other band members, despite our tragic dating history in high school. Well, except for Hoseok. A wave of pain and grief washed over me at the thought of him.
"If you think I'm getting up, you're delusional." I said, my voice monotone. Montonous. That would be one word to describe my life ever since that day. That horrible, despicable day. I didn't want to do anything except for drink and sleep. Everything else hurts too much. Everything reminds me of him.
"If you think I'm just gonna let you waste your life away, you're delusional." Yoongi said, nudging me with his foot. I groaned and looked up at the dyed blonde haired boy.
"Yoongi. Stop." I said, my voice coming out weaker than intended. It was all too much. I'd been awake for less than five minutes, and it already hurt too much.
"No. Don't you realize it's been a month? A month exactly?" He said. A sinking feeling filled my gut. A month has passed? Only a month? It felt like years. Thirty-one days without Hoseok are thirty-one too many for me. I need a drink.
"Stop." I choked out through the lump in my throat. "It hurts." Hurts was an understatement. There wasn't a word strong enough to describe the misery I felt.
"Don't you realize we're all hurt? We're all hurting, Nozomi! But there comes a day, when it's time to get up and face the music. And for you, that day is today." Yoongi said. My stomach churned. I stumbled to my feet quickly. "Whoa, I thought I was gonna have to quite literally drag you out the door—oh, fuck!" Yoongi exclaimed as I ran to the bathroom and emptied my insides into the toilet.
I didn't know whether the unhealthy amount of alcohol in my stomach is what made me vomit, or if it was the utterly sick feeling that came with the mere thought of getting out of bed and facing the world. Probably a mixture of both. I heard a soft thud from besides me as I wretched, and I felt a gentle hand brush the hair out of my face and off the nape of my neck. Yoongi. "I've got you." He said. He didn't need to say anything else, so he didn't. When there was nothing left in me to come back out and the only sound in the room was the sound of my ragged breathing, Yoongi reached up and flushed the toilet. My hair was released back onto my skin that was glistening with sweat. I slumped against the cool wall. Yoongi leaned back against the edge of the bathtub.
"Did I ever tell you why I broke up with you?" Yoongi broke the silence. I looked up from the tile floor.
"Huh?" I said. It hurt my scratchy throat to speak. Yoongi and I talked about the breakup. We joked about it a lot, actually. He would tell me he did it because I'm annoying or high maintenance, and I would tell him it would have happened eventually if he kept man-splaining things to me.
"The real reason? Did I ever tell you?" He asked. I shook my head. Yoongi fidgeted with the zipper of his black leather jacket. "Remember that one time I came to pick you up from dance to surprise you?" I nodded. I remembered that day well. It was the day I'd gotten my first contemporary solo. I tried not to think about the smile on Hoseok's face when I told him. I tried not to think about Hoseok at all. The more I thought about him, the more incomplete I felt. "I'd seen Hoseok, and I'd obviously seen you, but together...never. And once I saw the way he looked at you, Nozomi, I swear—I knew we weren't going to work out. I mean, you told me you loved me, and I loved you, too. I knew you weren't lying when you said it, either. But from one look at Hoseok, I knew he was in love with you. So in love that there was no way in hell that you didn't love him back. That's how intensely he loved you, Nozomi." Yoongi said.
My heart felt like it was being ripped to shreds. as if Yoongi could tell, he moved to sit next to me against the wall. He reached over and tore off a few squares of toilet paper before dabbing the wad against my cheeks. I didn't realize I had been crying. This only made me cry more.
"I miss him, Yoongi." I cried softly. Yoongi draped his arm over my shoulders. His leather jacket made weird squeaky noises as I got comfortable against his chest. I almost laughed at how anticlimactic it was. Almost.
"So do I. So do I." He repeated. I could only imagine how much Yoongi missed Hoseok, too. He was the only person that could break Yoongi's tough guy act. The only person to make him laugh until he cried. Hoseok was Yoongi's weakness, his soft spot, his Achille's Heel. "But because he loved, no, loves you so god damn much, he wouldn't want you to be miserable for the rest of your life, Nozomi. Not at all, and especially not because of him. And I can't sit here and let the love of my best friend's life, who is also my dear friend, waste away. I know it sucks, and hurts like a little bitch, but we have to be strong for him. We have to keep going." Yoongi said. His deep voice sent vibrations through my already shaking body. He was right. I hated to admit it, but he was.
"No wonder you're a songwriter, Min Yoongi." I said the only thing that popped into my mind at his inspirational words. He laughed, and it rumbled through his chest and into mine. "You ready to be functional human beings?" I asked, agreeing begrudgingly to letting him take me out of the safety of my apartment.
"Not yet. I need a minute." He said, resting his head on top of mine as it laid against his chest. So there we sat on the bathroom floor. Taking a minute. Saying nothing. Until:
"Your breath smells like a fucking decomposed skunk."
