Yoongi burst through the door like a bat out of hell. For the brief moment that the door was open, I could clearly hear the voices of Namjoon and Jungkook shouting. Thankfully, Yoongi was quick to close the door behind him, taking just a few strides to stand before me. It was like he had hit an invisible wall, unable to get any closer. I could only look up at him in cautious disbelief. I had avoided making eye contact with him since returning home, but in that moment I just was absorbed by his slightly downturned puppy eyes gleaming in the dim overhead light, nearly obscured by his messy dark hair. He stood in the exact same spot Jungkook had been in moments before. His shirt was the same white linen that Jungkook was wearing, but it hung off of his considerably leaner frame. While Jungkook's face had been filled with rage and the desire for revenge, Yoongi only looked at me with concern. Finally, he cracked, releasing a long sigh as he took one last step towards me, "Oh, America," he whispered as he gingerly reached out to touch my shoulder, his touch so light I think he was afraid of shattering me, "Tell me it isn't true." When I opened my mouth to respond, I choked on yet another sob that had been holding back. I could only shake my head erratically. He turned away from me, and I suddenly felt the fear of abandonment take hold again. To my relief, he only moved to switch on an old lamp in the corner of the room that had mostly gone unused. More light filled the room, and Yoongi wheeled around quickly, returning to inspect me again, "Zoey," he breathed as he reached out to gently touch my neck. I didn't flinch. This was Yoongi, who I trusted more than anyone else not to hurt me... on purpose, anyway. I guessed bruising was starting to show around where Jae had choked me. Yoongi very delicately traced my neck, his eyes narrowed and intensely inspecting my injuries. Seeing the care in his eyes finally caused me to crack, and a single, pathetic, shuttering quiet sob wracked my entire body. I quickly looked down, trying to shield my face from his scrutiny. He took a startled step back, putting a little bit of distance between us. He seemed to squander for a moment, unsure of what to do. I didn't blame him; it was always a little bit awkward to comfort someone about something you couldn't relate to. After a long moment filled with my ungraceful crying, he seemed to make up his mind. The bed sunk under his weight as he joined me, crawling back behind where I sat. He didn't say a word as I felt his hands on my shoulders, pulling me backwards. Yoongi was short and lithe, but so was I, and he had enough strength to pull me into his lap with relative ease.

I was surrounded by warmth from his chest, his crossed legs, and his arms gently cradling me. Instinctively, I curled up into his embrace, pulling my legs up to my chest, allowing him to hold me closer. And there, in the safety of Yoongi's embrace, I finally let go. I stopped holding back and cried into his shirt with reckless abandon. We just stayed like that for what felt like a long time, Yoongi quietly holding me while I wept, his chin resting on my head as he gently my hair. At long last, after several minutes, I was out of tears to cry, my diaphragm ached from the irregular breathing, and I felt myself grow still. His grip on me only tightened and I felt him move his head, his lips pressed to the top of my head, and I felt the sigh rush from his nose. "Yoongi," I was finally able to speak, though that's a pretty generous word for the strangled squeak that came out of my mouth. When a response didn't come from him, I moved to look up at him, only to find his face incredibly close to mine. His eyes were shining, his expression distraught. "Jungkook was right," I whispered, mustering the tiniest little smile despite my stiff tear-stained cheeks.

Before I could continue to speak, Yoongi looked away from me with a long, grating sigh that sounded almost frustrated. "I can never beat that guy, can I?" he grumbled out of the right side of his lips, more to himself than to me.

"What?" I managed to ask, legitimately confused by his complaint.

"Jungkook!" Yoongi looked down at me, "He's always there for you," he began to explain, his expression softening slightly. "When you came home in the rain, he was the one who got you that blanket while I just stared at you like a ," he practically spat the words in contempt. I wanted to interrupt, but he pressed on, "And he was the one to run and get you a doctor when I made that stupid door fall on your head! The time you were sick after your first set of injections, he was the one to sit with you. Damn, I wish I weren't so slow!" He was ranting.

"Yoongi," I finally managed to get the word in, raising my voice just slightly to get his attention. With his ranting I finally understood. He was jealous. The ceaseless crying must have cleared my head because suddenly I had a lot to say. My heart pounded at the thought, but it wasn't the time to get caught up in my feelings, I needed to quickly point out a few things before he dropped me and stormed away. "Who was it that kept me company all day when I was sick?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at him slightly. When he simply frowned at me, I pressed on, "And who held me still while I bled into his shirt after that door accidentally fell? And who was it that picked me up off of this very bed my first night here and carried me to the bath?" Yoongi remained silent, but his eyes wavered with uncertainty. "Yoongi, Jungkook could have stayed in here with me, but he didn't. He went and got you." It seemed strange that I was comforting him in this situation, but the guy clearly needed it.

His face was solemn as he met my eyes again, this time full of hope. "America," he murmured, hesitating as if he was having a difficult time deciding on his words. "I'm so sorry this happened to you," He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine. My eyes fluttered shut as I felt his gentle breath on my face. His hand reached out to touch my cheek, his slightly rough thumb wiping away some of the residual tears there.

"It'll be okay," I spoke as I opened my eyes to look back up at him. I knew those words were mostly empty- I had no idea what repercussions would come from what had transpired that day, but it was hard not to be optimistic from my position. I tracked his eyes as they moved, just barely, from my eyes to my mouth, and back again. My heart leaped in my chest. I knew that there was no chance that Yoongi would kiss me in that moment. He was too kind and too empathetic to the storm of emotions I was feeling, but I didn't care. This wasn't spur of the moment or out of nowhere. In that moment, I wasn't thinking about what had happened with Jae. I wasn't thinking about my impending marriage and pregnancy, I was only thinking about how safe and comfortable I felt in Yoongi's (slightly bony) embrace. I could only remember the small moments we had been able to share together. I knew he wouldn't make the move, but I definitely could. I released my grip on his shirt to reach up to his face, putting just a bit of pressure behind his jawline to pull him closer to me. Initially, he seemed perfectly willing to oblige, but just as his eyes began to slide shut, I felt him resist me, pulling back.

His eyes narrowed at me slightly, once again examining my expression as if he could find instructions written somewhere. "Zoey," he finally spoke, though I noticed his breathing was just a bit labored, and I could feel his heart pounding against his chest as I leaned against him, "Are you sure about this? I mean with everything that's happened, I don't want you to do something you might regret."

"Yoongi," I cut him off, doing my best to sound composed and confident. His rambling was cute and honorable, but it was getting in the way. I offered him another little smile. I was sure. "Would it help if I told you I wanted this when you were plucking chunks of concrete out of my hair?"

He swallowed audibly in response to my question, his eyes widening just slightly. There was a heavy, tense moment while he simply stared at me, unblinking, as if his brain had malfunctioned temporarily. And then all at once, he relaxed, just one