You can’t do this to me.

He’d light the flame and stare at it until his hand hurt from the heat. Sometimes he’d light it and look out the window. Anything to distract him, he just wanted to forget, but he couldn’t.

He was just teasing himself. Almost everything reminded him of her.

Everything was hard for him to do now. It was hard for him to sleep, it was hard for him to eat, it was hard for him to think. Even when he wanted to get fresh air, it was hard for him to walk, he found it too hard and ended up going back into his room.

Almost two months of this, he was fed up with it. He didn’t want to dwell on this any longer, he wanted to move on, but he couldn’t.

She was his first real love. The first girl he really cared about; the first he found beautiful in everything she wore, the first to make his heart flutter when she walked closer. He had put his heart and soul into everything he did for her, but she never returned the favour.

That one night, the anniversary. He didn’t usually remember things like this, but he wanted to remember this one thing. He had bought flowers and chocolates, and had written a card with his feelings to her. He let himself in, and looked around for her. She wasn’t in the living room or kitchen, so he took off his shoes and coat to go upstairs. He heard her shuffling around in her bed, so he knocked on it softly. He opened the door, expecting to see her asleep. But she wasn’t.

There was another figure under the sheets with her. He couldn’t help but stare. He wanted to yell at her and punch the other guy, but his voice was silent. We wanted to pull her away, stop her from betraying him, but his feet wouldn’t move. The only thing he could do was drop the flowers and chocolate on the floor. That got their attention, but she didn’t seem at all surprised to see him there.

“What are you doing in my house?”

“What are you doing with another man?”

“Why are you here?”

“It was our anniversary today, 100 days…”

He tried to calm his breath, to stop any sharp breaths that will give away his tears that were waiting to fall.

“Yoongi, I don’t love you.”

“But I do…”

His feet turned around and walked away from them, down the stairs and into the living room. He had dropped the flowers and chocolates at her door, but he still held the note with his feelings.

You’re my everything, you’re my everything

Everything, you’re my, please go away

I’m sorry, I hate you, I love you, I hate you, forgive me

He had crossed out his past feelings and tried to cover them with his new feelings. He put on his coat and his shoes, and ran out the door. He only had his lighter and his wallet in his pockets, but he ran. He ran far away, and now he’s here.

Now he’s here, wasting away. Passing days are turning into weeks, and now months.

Is there any way for him to fix himself? He wouldn’t know how.

But I know a way.