Three Days to Heaven

2

Another fucking day for Yoongi. He woke up at six forty five, awaken up by his annoying alarm clock which pulled him out of a nightmare which seemed almost too real. In the said nightmare, Jimin was asking him what was wrong with him, until he had enough and Yoongi slapped him across the face. He had said sorry to the black haired male again and again, but Jimin hated him and had started crying, his hand holding his reddened cheek, which showed clearly where the five fingers of the older male had hit his face. It seemed too real for the mint haired male, who woke up, bare-chested, sweat beading down his chest and down his forehead. He was at least happy to have woken up from this nightmare. Quickly rearranging his mint coloured haired, then throwing on the same pair of jeans and the same long sleeved sweater, as he tried his best to manage his washing machine's water, because he couldn't afford to do small loads of washes until the next pay check rolled in, the male sat down at the kitchen table, grilling himself two toasts. He waited for too long though and the toasts ended up half burnt. The mint coloured haired male barely ate, taking little bites out of his burnt toasts. His stomach was growling even louder than yesterday, as he only had Jimin's leftovers in his stomach. It was almost time for him to go to take his bus, so the man in his twenties took his half burnt toasts for the trip, and headed for the door. He put his favourite coat on, which was still clashing with his short peppermint coloured hair, then threw his all black school bag onto his shoulder, only putting one strap in. The wind was blowing through some two small cracks in the walls, lone reminders of his anger issues. He had added another one the night before, frustatred to have told lies to Jimin. It was even colder now because of it and he had patched the new hole with plastic bags, which barely held in his house's heat. He didn't take anything else with him and locked the door behind him.

He got to the bus station outside. He put an earphone in and set it at a high volume, hoping it would deafen or or at least make Them shut up for a while, which it did, he seemed cursed, as when he stopped the music, they slowly crawled back, like leeches would crawl to a nearby wound, inside his broken psyche. So he blasted that head bopping music, despite him feeling nor happier nor sadder listening to it. It was now American music, and despite not understanding much, the music' message spoke directly to him. It was now 7:07. The bus coughed black smoke up the hill and Yoongi found a shocking ressemblance to a smoker trying their best to run up a hill, despite knowing they couldn't do it as well or as quickly anymore. The bus stopped in front of his face, opening its' door in the same annoying noise. He got his bus card out of his pocket, searching for a while and waited for the person in front of him to finish. He flashed his magnetic blue card in front of the scanner, as it flashed the same blue "안녕하세요", just as usual.

He sat down next to Jimin, crashing loudly on his seat and expiring loudly, tired of this annoying routine that seemed to go on and on, always being in this order : waking up, eating, going to school, studying, maybe working, then doing all of that again and again. The pistachio haired male felt like life had offered him everything and that it'd just go on and on until some major event he didn't care about, as life was just a bitch and was unpredictable in general, would break the current mold.

"So how was work?" politely asked the younger male, giving his best smile to Yoongi to try to make him feel slightly better.

"I didn't go to work."

"Wait-what?"

"I said, I didn't go to work," repeated Yoongi.

"But why?"

"Tired."

"You sleep a lot for someone who's a student and working part time. You're sure you're not just depressed?"

"I'd tell you if I was."

"So what did you do instead of going to work? Did you study a little?"