𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐭 | 𝐦.𝐲𝐠 ✓

Chapter: 17

Min Yoongi lives in an apartment? A tiny one, for that matter.

You immediately make the decision not to knock. He'd basically told you over the phone to let yourself in.

Uncomfortable as it may be, he said it was 'urgent'. You just hope he doesn't need an ambulance or something.

"Yoongi?" You whisper loudly. His room is pitch black, not even a window allows any sort of light. You think you're in the kitchen, or maybe it's the living room, either way, the floor is like ice on your feet.

He must be in his bedroom then. This apartment is smaller than yours, it shouldn't be too hard to blindly navigate through it.

You take small, careful steps, guiding yourself with the walls and corners of the floor. Then you feel carpet under your feet, rather than hard wood flooring.

As your eyes adjust even further to the dark atmosphere, you're able to make out a small silhouette sitting hunched over on what you suspect to be a bed. It's completely silent. And creepy.

"Yoongi." You rush toward him, instinctively placing your hands on his shoulders and neck, feeling for signs of sickness.

"Rina," he groggily mumbles.

You hastily search for the lamp chain on his nightstand before clambering back to his limp body that slouches on the edge of the bed. You bend down to establish eye level.

His mint hair is messed in every which way, his milky skin is flushed and pink, and his eyes never meet yours.

Your hand presses over his forehead, feeling for abnormal heat or perspiration. "What's wrong, do you feel okay? I can call someone—"

"No," he orders, simultaneously pulling your wrists from his body. After not noticing any symptoms of illness, you allow him to do so.

"What is it then?" You continue to keep your voice low, to match his, and to not give away too much of the sentiment that you feel.

"I just," He ruffles a hand through his bed head. "I couldn't sleep."

Your reaction of shock soon changes to a comical breath of relief. Though, his gloomy expression remains and emits a certain amount of shamefulness.

You also forgot that he's still pretty tipsy.

"Okay buddy, let's get you to sleep then." You scruff his bright hair, straightening out your bent legs and grabbing one of his palms.

Hesitantly, he stands with you, making it easier for you to reposition him onto the middle of the bed rather than the edge. You sit with him on the white, fluffy comforter.

"I'm not tired," he growls exhaustedly, even though his eyes are practically as pink and puffy as his cheeks.

"But you need to sleep," you firmly remark.

Both of you sit in the quiet, tired, atmosphere, legs pressed to chests, arms enveloping knees.

At first, you hadn't noticed the almost mirrored position you two had coincidentally acclimated yourselves in, but when you did, your eye-smile became so loud that even tired and grumpy Yoongi couldn't help but look over at you. Primarily confused, he finally catches on after a few seconds of examination. A corner of his mouth flicks up.

"Close your eyes," you softly demand, nudging your shoulder to his.

His eyebrows down turn. "What?"

"To sleep," you clarify, even though you don't believe your command needed clarification.

"Oh. Right."

He stretches out his legs, that are still clothed in denim jeans, and easily makes himself comfortable under the blankets. His back now faces you and you aren't sure if you should lay down too, or just sit here. So you stare at him a little longer.

You contemplate leaving after deeming him asleep, since he hasn't moved in a few minutes. That is, until he speaks.

"Why is this so awkward?" Barely audible, his voice is scratchy and clearly exhausted. You smile, despite agreeing with him completely.

Thinking he doesn't expect an answer, you rest your chin on your knees, feeling yourself getting sleepy too.

His still body shifts to lay on its other side. Now he's facing you. And even through the dark of his room, you can see his small pupils gaze up at you like a puppy, expecting an answer.

As much as you want to tell him that two introverted co-workers relaxing on the same bed at 3 in the morning is bound to be awkward and weird, you also want to tell him the truth, your honest beliefs for once. You want to be yourself. So, for a moment, you refrain from looking at him and instead focus on the the way the white comforter conforms to his body as you tiredly say, "I think we like each other a little bit."

There's barely a pause.

"Me too."

You begin to understand that the darkness and inability to have a clear view of each other's faces gives you confidence. Even in the volume of your voice, which is normally much quieter.

"Then why is it so difficult for me to talk to you? Why can't we have normal conversations and interactions and fall in love like normal people?" The words spill out as if they've been in your mouth for centuries, waiting to flood over. The more you talk, the more courage you develop.

You hear him chuckle and sigh, repositioning himself on his back. "It's simple actually. We just aren't suppose to be together. Our personalities, though similar, don't match like a normal couple's would. We're not in sync. It's like the world can't decide if we should be together or not."

"That sounds complicated."

"Point proven."

You smile in disbelief, realizing that talking to Yoongi is somehow one of your hobbies. That, and also having confidence.

"Can I stay?" Your voice is softer now, but still just as direct and non reluctant.

He curls himself up, adjusting the blankets around his figure, and turns to face the opposite direction again. "I thought you'd never ask."

xoxo
GentleKissu