HURT

There are many meanings to the word 'Hurt'. It can mean physically, mentally or spiritually damage to the body's soul and mind. The worst of it? Being hurt by our loved ones is like being stabbed through the back with a tiny knife. It can cause masive damage from a small piercing of the tip of the knife...

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I woke up, feeling a pang of pain in my head, throbbing back and forth for quite some time before it had stopped. I quickly shut my eyes closed and laid on my bed, whimpering as my hands crept towards my head, holding it in hopes for the pain to muffle up. As soon as my head stopped hurting, I sat up on my bed and looked around my bedroom for the last time. This was going to be the last time I could actually see my room. I took a deep breath as I scanned across my room, thinking of the things I need to take with me. I quickly got a bag that was laying on a chair in the corner of my room and gathered all the valuable things that meant a lot to me. 

I gently closed the door behind me, securing my bag onto my shoulder. The entire house was cleaned, maybe because that damn landlord called someone to clean my 'trash'. I rolled my eyes as I looked around. I couldn't careless anymore since I had lost everything. I looked at my watch that was hanging loosely on my wrist. 8:45pm, it read. Well, today might as well be the first day I'll be living on the streets with no cash access to even cheap motels. 

My steps thundered behind me as I walked towards the opened door that I might had broke. I bit my lower lips as I quietly closed the door close. I let go of the shaky doorknob that I had placed to make sure it did not drop since I broke it with my own hands. As I let go of the door, the door gently groaned open, leaving a tiny creak.

"Bye, my house," I whispered to the house, gently brushing my hand onto the painted, rough walls. I looked another glance at my house before turning away, planning to walk downstairs to the exit- but what I had failed to notice was a figure blocking my way. I hit the person's hard chest, hurting my head as I fell down onto the cold, concrete floor. "Ow!" I groaned, rolling myself into a ball as my hands were immediately up to my head, attending to it. 

"Am I suppose to ask if you're okay?" The person grunted, clearly not interested. 

I stopped groaning. "Well ye-" I looked up and was about to shoot that person one of my dirty look when I met his eyes. I was left with nothing to say as I stared at him wordlessly. No words were to describe how shocked, glad and hurt I was to see him again, and in this condition.

"Well," he reached his hand out, after noticing that I had kept quiet, staring at him. "Are you okay?"

"Yoongi?!" I looked up at him, my lips slowly opening up. "Wha-what are you do-doing he-here?" I asked, looking away, trying to brush all the stray hair off my face, trying to get myself to look neat.

"I might as well ask you the same thing," he answered, leaning against the wall that was opposite me, his hands shoved in his pockets, his nose and lips were covered by his scarf.

I bit my lips nervously, not knowing how to answer it. "Well," I tried to smile. "I kind of got kick out of my own house," I let out a nervous laugh.

"And I'm going to be living in this house that had been the person in front of me, who is planning to be living on the streets and had been calling me Yoongi for the entire time," he shakes his head, his black bangs dropping onto his eyes. 

I quickly stood up and gave him a bow, nearly hitting the opposite wall. "I think I should better be going now," I excused myself, rushing down the stairs. As I started to run down the stairs, I ended up tripping over my own feet. I fell hard on my .

"Are you okay?!" I could hear Yoongi freaking out. I looked up at the stairs, giving him a big smile.

"Ye-" I stopped myself. 

Yoongi wasn't even looking at my direction. He was at the doorstep, holding the doorknob in one of his hand as the door crept open silently. He looked at the door for a few seconds before looking at me. I couldn't define if he was mad or not but he quickly rush down the stairs, standing in front of me. "You!" He pointed at me and raised the doorknob that he had in his hand. "Explain this to me! You broke it, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Why would I even want to break it?" I asked him, playing my innocent look. 

"Stop lying!"

"I'm not..." I answered, suddenly thinking an idea. A smile silently creep up my face. "But it's okay, because I can help you fix the doorknob... you do know that the landlord only cares about money and nothing else, so in order to get clients, he likes to play with them," I explained, looking at him once