I don't know anymore: Ch 35

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'Oh gosh dang what did you just do?' You ask yourself as you enter your home, shutting the door and falling to a ball of complete embarishment just past the threshold.

'Did... did you just ki.. kiss Kim Namjoon on the cheek?' You question as you slap your hands to your own redened face.

Still rolled up you continue the questioning that may well soon lead to an interrogation, "he is the leader of BTS, a world famous man from a world famous band and you just kissed his cheek like he was your aunty at christmas time. After walking up and hugging him like he were close family. How could you even do that? And you just ran away!?"

You accentuate your point though the raising of your voice, almost every second word that trickles rappidly from your mouth is an unintelligible squeak.

Then the dark side of your mind pokes it's head into the room, 'you could have at least got his lips if you were gonna be like this'.

With this the embarrassment grows to much and you began to dispel the unpleasant energy by rolling about screaming "arrrrergggg". Quietly though, as not to wake the neighbours.

Your movements are holted as you hear a crumpling beneath you, plastic, almost package like in its existence. Well, that is cause it was. The groceries actually.

"Oh jolly noo," you spout as you jump to your knees and take the items in hand for inspection.

Noticing the coffee beans your eyes widen and your head snaps to face the door. Your body soon follows its dirrection and you sprint up and out, ariving to an empty street.

You sigh as you look about, bringing the beans close to your chest as you resign yourself to having stollen not only a hug and kiss from RM, but also his beans.

Just as you think that you hadn't actually stollen the beans, you having bought them and all, your left wrist begins to sting. A throbbing pain that rises as you think about it.

"Owww," you complain, making your way back inside as you hold it in hand. Pressing on it doesn't work, so you try shaking it about to ease the pain. Nope, not effective.

You grumble out in annoyance, "why the Henry am I feeling this now?"

You turn and walk to the bag, picking it up with the unimpacted wrist and sauntering over to the kitchen as you try to ignore the discomfort.

You raise the bag, mumbling, "And here I was thinking the strange pain was connected to them, god knows why it wo-"

You cut yourself off as it suddenly intensifies and you fumble, slaming your knee against the bench before dancing around like a drunk flamingo.

You hobble towards the stairs, taking each one in a painful succession of the last and hating yourself for not leaving any medicine on the first floor.

You reach the landing and drag the kit from the bathroom to your bedroom. You fall onto the desk chair and dump the box before you, quickly snapping open the lid. Imedietly you pop the painkillers from their seals, dunking them in your mouth before grabbing a bandage for your knee.

You raise it uncomfortably up, setting your foot on the chair awkwardly before lifting the fabric. There lays a mess of torn skin, the blood not even threatening to spill as it has already gently glided down your leg in two smooth lines.

"How? Are humans really this weak? Or is that bench some military grade secret strength weapon??" You blurt, obviously shocked.

Your mind snaps to reality as you watch another droplet rise from the pool, shimmying over the edge of broken skin before diving down your leg.

"Ah no you don't," you scold as you skillful stop the bloob in its tracks, following up by wipping the other lines away with the soddened cloth.

You then quickly rip open a disinfectant swab, wincing as you clean and quickly wrapping your banged up knee in enough bandages to make it a mummy.

Just as you finish with that, and your mind eases slightly, the pain in your stomach returns in an immense throb and you clamp your hands down on the desk in attempt to overcome it.

Big mistake.

Your wrist begins to pulse. The action seeming to light a fire in it as now a continuous flame pulls a needle along as they dance in elegant and patterned steps of torture.

You grab it, to your avail squeezing as hard as you can. You pull it up, looking through teary eyes and see nothing there.

Angry and frustrated and lost you rock back and forth, attempting to soothe your agony.

You glup and slide off the chair, curlling into a ball before the bookshelf. You wince before your eyes shoot open, casting them down at your left wrist once again in search of something, anything, to tell you that you aren't imagining all of this.

You don't find it. But as you eyes roam away in shaky disappointment their attention is drawn to an item on the shelf. The album your friend had bought you, the one BTS had signed on the day that all this pain began.

You hand was drawn to it, releasing your throbbing wrist to capture the item within your shaky hold.

Slowly you stand, a little bit of will power moving you as you make your way to the bed before slumping down upon it.

You bring the book before you and flick slowly through the pages, the pain reducing slightly as your eyes embraced the signatures and messages left behing by each member.

You close your eyes, a small laugh tumbling from you mouth as you stumbled across Namjoon's signature.

It was the last thing you see before you fall into a pleasent state of unconsciousness.

His signature was beside an ethereal picture. Seven great beasts; seven breathtaking wolves stairing with glistening eyes out from the page and into your soul.

***

A/N
I. AM. NOT. DEAD.
Wahooooo

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