"Goodbye, Yoongi." That was the final boom to the end of us. You walked out of that door 218 days ago, and I'm still hoping you would come back. Everyday I stare at the door the first thing in the morning, hoping it'll be you opening the door. You would be smiling so brightly it hurts and have food, ready to share with me. Now it's just me and myself, blaming that I only realised you were precious to me after you left.

I would wake up and feel the coldness seep into my bones, without your warm hands to rub some of your blazing warmth into me. The sheets would always stay ruffled when I came back, unlike the neatness of those bed sheets you always spent time when making the bed. The shower water, no matter how scalding, would just be freezing without you in it with me. I would never hear your endless naggings on my way of life as I shuffle round my apartment, gathering things for the day ahead.

As I swung my coat on myself, I would get nagged by you. You would chastise me on my irritatingly slow manner of just carelessly wearing my clothes, making you have to come up to me to fix them. Well, all I wanted was your warm touch in the morning so that was on purpose. I would always, never fail to take the chance to steal some kisses from your pinkish lips, making you giggle and swat my arm playfully. I would then feign pain from your hits making you frown in worry. This cycle never seems to make you wary of them, or rather just make you more g