Far Side

Chapter Thirteen - "That okay with you, princess?"

Motionless in front of Seokjin's door, the frame looks ominous, your gut stirring that suffocating feeling of foreboding; wanting to turn tail and run. You did not want to face him after seeing that look on his face. It still burned clear in your memory and you really did not know if your heart could handle seeing him hurt again but you knew he shouldn't be alone right now.

Slowly cracking open the door with caution, you waited to hear if he would call out to you. When the only noise that drifts to your eardrums is his sniffling you stuck your head in to peer over the bed, finding Seokjin sitting on the floor with that thick, grey duvet wrapped around his body in a tight burrito. Face buried in his knees that were being hugged tightly against his chest for self comfort.

You frowned and as soon as your eyes fell on his broken state, you hobbled in the room to desperately yet very awkwardly waddle back and forth in front of him trying to figure out how to get on the floor so you can hug him.

"U-Um, Jin? I know you need a hug right now but I can't really figure out how to get down there with this cast."

A faint, breathy laugh replied, muffled by his jeans before he weakly lifted his head to peer at you with blurry vision; bottom lip still trembling as he tried to stop crying. Within the blink of an eye Jin was on his feet, arms wrapping around your body and pulling the blanket with him so it engulfed both of you in its' warmth all in one solid move.

Much the way Yoongi had, the werewolf's face buried in your hair, letting the rest of his tears fall as the last pieces holding him together break down all at once.

"This whole time," he croaked out, voice straining to find the right words.

You remained silent, letting the man work out what he wanted to say without pressuring him or making him feel like he was being rushed. Instead, you rubbed his back in circles, providing the same support you gave Yoongi, letting him know it was okay to let everything go.

"This whole time I've been blaming him, when— I should have been hating her. But what if," his tears momentarily slowing just enough for his shaking voice to be strong enough to hold himself together and get out what he needed. 

He pulls away just to look at you, face running so many emotions you could barely place which one he was currently feeling.

"What if he's lying?"

"I don't think he's lying. He's hurting just as much as you. If he was, I don't think he would care so much." You reassured without a doubt. 

"Is— Is he really?"

"He's really torn up over all of this. He feels terrible. I think he hates himself. I really feel like the two of you would benefit from truly talking it out and not yelling or running away from each other."

He blinked, your words seeming to run through his jumbled mess of a mind before those almond eyes dropped and he nodded. It was faint, you barely noticed the action at all. If you had not been studying his reaction so closely you would have missed it.

"So you'll talk to him? Really talk?" You tried again. 

"On one condition."

It was your turn to blink. His tears had stopped by now, thankfully, and his trembling subsided so he seemed in a better mood; but what was the condition.

He took the crutches from your grasp, holding you upright with an arm to his chest tenderly.

"H-Hey? I kinda need to use those?" You fisted hands into his shirt to steady your balance even though he had a decent hold on you, watching your crutches with curiosity.