𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐭 | 𝐦.𝐲𝐠 ✓

Chapter: 21

"Good morning, beautiful."

My eyelids flutter open to the lowly hummed words warming my ears.

Yoongi.

It only takes a few seconds for me to come to my senses, and when I do, everything around me suddenly feels like him — the crumpled sheets that indent and contour around our bodies. The ambiance, combining with a mild aroma of warm bodies. His fingers, lingering and sparse over my bare skin.

Something changed. Everything changed. Now his very breath ignites swirls of light and joy inside me. That's all it takes. Just, him.

My foggy eyes clear up and notice that his mint hair is stuck up in every direction. He props himself onto his side.

"Afternoon, actually," he grins, correcting himself, his dark irises becoming a golden brown from the sun rays that sliver through the window shades.

Taking a deep inhale, which feels much more refreshing than usual, I position myself up, using my elbows for leverage.

"That was long, wasn't it?" I ask, taking into account when our session had started and finished, as I attempt to finger-comb through a snarl in my hair.

He bites his lip. "You'll have to be more specific, love."

I punch his shoulder, my lips pursed to hold back an inappropriate laugh while he falls onto his back with a wide, gummy smile spreading over his soft features as he erupts in contagious giggles.

As an insistent ache in my abdomen becomes more and more evident, my laughs fade and I place a hand over my stomach, urging the pressure to cease.

Leaning back into the front of the bed, I sharply inhale through my teeth. "Am I pregnant?" I seethe, half-jokingly.

After a moment, Yoongi angles up, a delicate grin beaming my way.

"No. Trust me." He then focuses on the hand over my stomach. "It's probably just after-pain."

Fidgeting my legs to get more comfortable only causes the ache to worsen and become increasingly tense. So, I refuse to move a muscle, and remain in a frozen position like a statue. "I think you broke me," I frown.

The edge of his lip twitches up.

"Well, I'm pretty sure you broke my glasses." He nods to the pair of thick-framed specs thrown onto the night stand, the left lense cracked in more than a few places.

A mix of embarrassment and guilt flows over me, my stomach sinking and blood rushing to my head to warm my cheeks as I gawk at the defective pair.

Before I can apologize, slender fingers cradle my jaw, turning my head to face him. "Worth it," he shrugs surely.

Then there's a bit of silence. Some gentle staring. Very light touching. A short time of appreciation. Happiness. Bliss. A tinge of lust, but not too much.

I take the moment to recollect, looking back on the rocky road we'd followed to get to where we are now.

Then I study his face. He's glowing. And it's a luminosity that implores me to never look away. Perhaps I am overly optimistic, but it seems as though his infamously purple eye bags have vanished. His cheeks are less hollow too, puffy almost. Cute, definitely.

Yoongi.

I miss him, and yet he's right beside me.

I want him closer, and yet his arms cradle me so lovingly.

Through every tedious day. Every cup of coffee. Every music note. Every word read. He was there, all along.

That obnoxious head of mint-colored hair, was where it all began.

I ruffle my fingers through it, replaying the day I'd first wanted to; the day we met.

"I love you."

-

"Where are you going?"

Clad in only Yoongi's dark grey T-shirt, I observe the fully dressed man as he nears the apartment door, still crunching on his dry cereal.

"Music shop down the street," he answers, slipping on the backs of his shoes. "Need to start getting my studio together." He pitches a smile my way, then pauses in his place, almost like he's contradicting his original plans. But I urge him on.

"Right." I shove another spoonful of fruit loops into my mouth, reaching for my book on the table. "Don't be too long."

"I won't," he reassures. And with that, he was out the door.

As soon as I finished eating, I found myself in his room again, roaming the depths of his desk drawer in search of a notepad and pen.

It wasn't hard to find unsurprisingly—he writes music after all.

Sitting at his desk, I roll up the window shades to reveal a colorful sky of blues and pinks, clouds blending both together, and sun rays peaking down threw them.

I smile, pushing up the nose-piece of my glasses. Then I turn toward the notebook.

It's been forever, it seems.

I adjust my posture comfortably, acclimating to the unfamiliar ambiance.

Firming my grip on the pen, I begin to write a title in a calligraphy cursive.

The beginning of my very first book...

The end.

Or...to be continued...?

[a/n]
I'm sorry if the ending seems abrupt. It is, I think. But I really needed to finish this despite having tons of other scenarios that were going to be in it. I'm going to work on my other stories now and maybe a sequel to this, though it won't be that interesting lol. Hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing.

This will always be my favorite story no matter how much I claim I hate it. It's kind of all over the place but lets just say it adds character.

Thank you for supporting my work <3

P.S. if you didn't get the ending, it's supposed to be special because she is a failed author and hasn't written in a long time even though it's her passion etc, etc. Okay bye.

MINT

~GentleKissu