I really wasn’t fair to Yoongi. He kept on inviting me to dinner, lunch, or even just a simple coffee. And I kept on declining his offers. He was nothing if not persistent.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t likeable or anything because trust me, he was. He just happens to come at the wrong time or just happens to come after him.

Or maybe I wasn’t being unfair to him at all. Maybe I was just saving him the trouble to having to keep up with me. Maybe I didn’t want to make him a cork to stop the pain I was having of being left behind.

Taehyung left me. I was just gonna have to accept that fact; even though it hurts, even though it pains me to remember all the promises he gave me. Or I should say broken promises.

I knew it was coming though: the end. We were falling apart. We used to say we were invincible that we would never succumb to any obstacles that we may face. Well, I guess we were played for fools.

The broken shards on my apartment floor were proof enough of every ounce of love I have for him. Present tense. I was still bleeding from the wounds we made for ourselves. He left me, without saying a word. I was there for him but he just left me alone.

But Yoongi was here. He actually makes me smile with his cheesy jokes and gummy smiles. He does that a lot recently. He brings me food instead  when I decline his offers; he does me favors knowing that I need them in my current state and even though he was a lazy ; he calls me often just to ask if I was okay even though it was 2 in the morning; he stayed by my side when Taehyung wasn’t. Yoongi makes me feel less of an abandoned rag doll and more of an actual…

Human.

But the thing was, Yoongi wasn’t Taehyung. Although, I secretly hoped he was. But I can’t keep lying to myself that Taehyung still loves me when the person who’s comforting me wasn’t him.

“Just give him a chance”, a colleague said.  We were in the break room and I was making my usual coffee. “He might be the one you’re looking for, you know”, she added before making an exit. I managed a quick glance at Yoongi’s desk. He was busy typing a report at his computer while occasionally sipping his coffee. He wore a simple white shirt with his usual chain necklace that always merited a reprimanding look from our supervisor; a chain necklace that hung around his pale neck, so pale that you could see the blood coursing through the veins which lay there.

The truth was I wasn’t looking for anyone to dull the pain nor anyone to erase it. I wasn’t even planning to escape that. It was the sole reminder that I had of Taehyung. Masochism at its best, I know

The next day Yoongi was sitting beside me in a bench outside our office. I looked at Yoongi and who was holding two carnival tickets and looking at me expectantly. I dared to hope that I wasn’t as broken as I was now.

But I was only human. And the only thing I could hope for was the promise that humans could forget; that the memory of a human is as thin and as fragile as a thread. So I did say “Yes”

Days

Weeks

Months

 It was September. Leaves were falling into crunchy ornaments on the streets. Smell of Christmas is just about on every establishment. It was my birthday in a couple days and so was his in a couple of months.

I did miss him. I would be lying if I said, I didn’t ache when I reached for his side of the bed only to be met by a pool of empty blankets.

Yoongi prepared a homemade dinner for me. Although it was only composed of ordered pizza and a monopoly game, it was still amazing.

Though, now I was left alone in my apartment whereas Yoongi was searching for a store open at this hour, which was around eleven, almost midnight. He called me a few minutes ago saying he already found a shop and said he’d be back in a couple of minutes.

Now, however, the phone was ringing again. It was probably Yoongi. He must’ve seen someone or something which made him laugh and can’t wait till he gets home to tell me about it. That pathetic little kid. Nevertheless, I still answered the phone.

The voice wasn’t Yoongi’s.

“Belle, it’s me”

Widened eyes, cold hands, faster heart; after months of trying to get away, here he was as if nothing happened. For months I’ve thought of every possible thing to say, all the questions, the swears, the blames. Now, I’m left with a slightly open mouth and a drought of words to say.

“Please don’t hang up on me”, he begged.  Desperation came out as he uttered those words.

He didn’t have the right to ask anything from me. I wanted to yell at him to stop. I wanted to hang the phone and pull the wires to make him stop, to make every living memory stop from flashing before my eyes.

“I-I just wanted to-“, he began.

- wanted to what? Kill me with your deep, husky voice that made me fall in love all those years ago. The voice that I yearn for when I have those sleepless nights; the voice that Yoongi could never fill the gap to no matter how hard he tried and will try.

“I wanted to greet you, Happy Birthday”, he continued.

Of all the things he could say, he said that.

“Why?”

I eventually found my tongue. But, I didn’t trust myself enough to utter more than that.

“I’m sorry”

“Answer me”

“I-“

I was distracted by the locks of the door unbolting. Yoongi was here. Soon, he was standing in front of me with a smile that reached his ears;  the same smile that held me together for these months while the guy who broke me was on the phone in my hand

I was supposed to choose Yoongi for all the things he had done for me. I should choose Yoongi for all the right things he’s done.

But I still love him.