Thoughts pinwheel in your head as if there is a thunderstorm blowing through them, occasionally hitting thr corners of your brain and making you wince with the intensity. You do not like sleeplessness.
You hadn't really taken yourself to be the insomniac type, even after meeting a hot girl who was off-limits because she was dating your ex-admirer (was that a correct description of Lisa? You had to think twice).
Normally, you didn't fall into depression that quick.
Or at all, honestly.
It was then that you decide that the reason for your sudden symptoms must be everything else that has been going on in the past few days. Maybe Jimin. Maybe Taehyung. Maybe Yoongi.
Yoongi. You dodn't understand why, completely, but whenever you think of him, a shudder of regret goes through you. It's like your mind is screaming at you that you're supposed to apologize for not listening to him sooner.
The fan swings its lazy blades a few feet above you, as if it is dozing off itself. Usually, having an absentee (and only) parent isn't very bothersome, being something you're used to, but you could give anything right now to have your dad back, singing you to sleep or reading to you.
It worked, okay? Don't judge.
You sigh, trying to compel your mind to fall asleep so it can work its magic on your confused thoughts. Sleep does wonders for confusion.
Flashes, bits and pieces of memories you'd thought you'd forgotten fly through your brain as part of the hurricane of thoughts, some as gentle breezes and some as hailstones. You remember the disappointed look on Jimin's face as you let him go, the lazy smile on Taehyung's face, Jennie's warm hands, and Yoongi's careful eyes as he stared at the back of Jimin's head.
Yoongi.
You want to scream in frustration at this point, because you wanted to sleep and it is already way past eleven. That doesn't seem like much, but you know it's gonna show itself in the form of eye bags and a slouched posture when you wake up the next morning.
There is someone holding you back, you remember Jennie's words. There is someone whom you couldn't abandon, couldn't leave alone.
It's like your mind is screaming something at you whenever you think of the blue-net, but it has duct tape wrapped around its mouth. So everything is incoherent, unintelligible.
You don't assume anything, because you've learned your lesson. Never try to expect your feelings.
And suddenly, the hurricane in your mind slows to a calm, sailing wind as the memory of your mother's smile floats in like a sea breeze, salty yet calming. You shut your eyes, pained yet welcoming - the good kind of pain.
What is it like? You remember asking her, as she tells you it was love that brought her and your father together. That brought you to her.
It's different for everyone. It made sense when she said that, you think, because everyone feels the same feeling differently, right? It's subjective.
How did you know? Your younger self wonders as her long, slender fingers braid your hair with hyacinths and grass. When did you know it was love?
Oh, darling. She had chuckled, and you had giggled as her plain lips had pressed against your temple. That's different for everyone, too, but it isn't intense, like everyone thinks. It's not too bright, not too dull, it's just...perfect.
Why, mom?
Because love that is too bright burns out, her smiling lips whispered in your ear. And love too dull fades away.
So which love lasts?
Not just romantic love. She had laughed. But when it is, you'll know. When it is supposed to last, it will, no matter what life throws at it. It's all about the touch.
You had stared at her in awe, wide eyes and flushed cheeks. Touch?
Yes, baby. Touch. Her hands hand combed back the stray strands of your unruly hair. When your love touches you, it will be soft and loving.
Like the touch of a feather.
Your eyes fly open, and you bolt upright, gasping for air. You taste tears, salty tears on your lips but don't remember crying.
It makes sense, again. Like your mind threw the perfect memory at you.
It screamed.
Your hands grasp blindly for the cellphone on your nightstand, and succeed after multiple tries. Your blankets are bunched at your feet, clear evidence that you kicked them like this is Sparta, and you punch in a number hastily before pressing it to the side of your sweaty face.
It rings six times before being picked up, and the owner of the voice is grumpy and irritated. "Y/N, I swear to God you better have a good reason for waking me up at this time-"
"Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi," You breathe hastily, and you feel like sobbing but your lips stretch in a grin. "Yoongi, I love you."
And you can almost see your mother's smile.
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I TOLD Y'ALL TO BUCKLE UP YOUR SEATBELTS MUAHAHA
YOU ARE READING
Peaches & Cream
Fanfiction"Do you want to die?" The man's voice is barely controlled as he aims the baseball bat at your face. "Woah, woah, woah," Your eyes are wide as you step back, about to shit your pants. "Look, I didn't force him to come back, alright? If you want to...
