FELT // taegi

07

''You hungry?'' Seokjin called out for the male lying on the dark green couch.

Yoongi laid curled up into a ball with his legs up to his chest and his eyes closed, attempting to doze off again. He heard his friend ask him a question, but he didn't wish to reply.

''Don't tell me you're still mad at me.'' Seokjin sighed as he made his way back over to the couch to check if his friend was just asleep or really didn't wish to speak to him.

''Why... In the fucking hell, did you bring him into my home?'' Yoongi murmured. 

He felt something move in front of him; maybe Seokjin crouched down in front of him. Or he moved to sit on the couch beside him. But then again he didn't feel any weight shift on the couch so Seokjin must've been in front of him.

''You don't eat, you don't move, you sleep all day long... The only time you socialize is when I'm here and even then you disappear into your room and don't let me inside. Yoongi I'm worried for you, I don't want you to completely isolate yourself. You have to keep living you know.''

''What the fuck is there to live for now?'' Yoongi raised his voice. For the first time in weeks, his tone of voice sounding alive. It may have been due to anger, but at least it wasn't his same old monotone robotic speech.

''Are you in a wheelchair? Are all your organs intact? Did you lose a body part? Did you lose all your memory? No longer able to care for yourself? Are you in a coma? In a full body cast? Fighting to live?'' Seokjin raised his voice as well.

''No...'' Yoongi murmured, he was quite thankful to not be able to see right now. 

He figured Seokjin was inches away from him, staring at him with an annoyed expression. But at the same time, he wished he could at least imagine what it looked like. Or still be able to imagine how his friend looked like in general.

''Then I say you got out pretty fucking lucky, Yoongi!'' Seokjin exclaimed. ''You could've died you know... Both of you. You were reckless and in no fucking condition to drive, either of you! I swear, the second Hoseok is able to walk by himself again I'm beating him for being an absolute idiot.''

''Please don't...'' Yoongi whispered, not wishing to think about the male right now. 

Or think in general really.

''You won't even leave your room to go visit him...'' Seokjin sighed.

And with that Yoongi sat up on the couch, no longer wishing to listen to his friend. He tried to stand up only for Seokjin's hand to grab his wrist and tug him back down, forcing him to sit once again.

''Please talk to me.'' Seokjin's voice sounded regretful, but it didn't matter if he felt sorry or not, he went too far.

''No.'' Yoongi murmured, trying not to let it show that he was on the verge of tears. ''Please let me go.'' But it was quite impossible to hide how you felt when you couldn't see the other person's expression.

Yoongi hated that, he hated everything about his new life. He felt vulnerable, weak, useless, and he knew it was all his damn fault.

''Yoongi...''

''I said let me go!'' Yoongi shouted in reply. He felt the first tear roll down his cheek. He felt Seokjin's thumb on his cheek trying to wipe it away, causing him to flinch and move back. ''Don't touch me.''

''Yoongi...''

''Just please leave me alone, can't you see I don't want company. Tell that guy he doesn't need to come tomorrow, or ever again and just let me rot in my room please.'' Yoongi's voice contiued to get quieter and quieter as he wiped the rest of his tears away. 

He pushed himself off the couch again, this time Seokjin didn't tug him back.

He allowed him to stand up and make his way back to his bedroom. He watched his steps, slow and careful, his hands tracing the wall, making sure he went into the right direction. His index finger bumped into the photo hanging on the wall causing his to stop and sigh.

''Does Mr. Song still want to buy this piece?'' He questioned, knowing far too well which painting of his hung there.

''He's been leaving you millions of calls and emails. But I don't know, you'll have to call and ask. Why?''

''He can have all of them if he wants. The price still stands and I refuse to drop it even the tiniest bit.''

''Are you sure you want to sell your painting?''

''They're useless to me now. I'm useless to me now.'' And with that he walked into his bedroom and closed the door shut, once again cutting himself off from his friend so he could freely cry in peace.