#i'm kinda...

A friend recently lost her best friend and all the crying prompted this.

---

Yoongi comforts you in time of need.

---

The news hits you like a ton of rocks even though you’d been preparing for it. You’d been in the kitchen, warming up the last of your leftovers for dinner, when your phone pinged and as soon as you’d read the message, you’d left your dinner untouched to rush off into the bathroom.

Now, after puking out whatever remains left from your lunch, you lay curled up in your bed, safe under your quilted sheets. Your phone lay just within arm’s reach next to your pillow, which is quite thoroughly soaked with your tears. You drift in and out of sleep, completely exhausted but nose clogged enough that you aren’t able to sleep comfortably.

Tears form afresh when you’re suddenly hit with memories of the countless sleepovers you’d had with your best friend. You’d always wondered at the term ‘sleepover’ because you’d never actually slept at sleepovers. You’d always stay up the entire night, sharing secrets or singing yourselves silly until the wee hours of the morning.

The tears slip down the sides of your face and you start to whimper at the thought that you will never again share those whispered secrets or cover silly love songs all night long or see your friend’s smiling face.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the sorrow engulfs you.

You are woken by an insistent ringing of your doorbell coupled with frantic knocks on your front door. You stumble to your feet, almost tripping over your blanket in your haste to stop the racket at your front door before your landlord beats you to it. Without thinking, you fling the door open and your eyes widen to see who it was standing there.

Yoongi steps in purposefully and bolts the door behind him.

“Yah, how could you just open the door without even checking? What if it were someone else?” He admonishes softly as he takes in your pitiful appearance.

He sighs and reaches out to stroke your cheeks with his thumbs, cradling your head within his hands.

You bite your lip, already feeling the next onslaught of tears. You didn’t like looking weak, even if it was just Yoongi.

“You didn’t have to come,” you whisper though your voice comes out as a croak from all the crying.

“You think I would come if I didn’t want to?” He retorts with his mouth twisting into a smirk.

At his words, the tears just fall, streaming down your cheeks. You can’t help but be aware of how tired he is. You can’t help but know how his muscles are aching from his dance practice and how his eyes are tired from constant staring at his computer and how his throat is sore from countless recordings.

You know that he probably really wants to be in his dorms, resting up and catching whatever sleep he can get before another busy day tomorrow.

So you step into his embrace, burying your face into his soft t-shirt. You wrap your arms around him a little tighter as he traces circles on your lower back with his hand. You sob a little louder as his warm breath ghosts over the shell of your ear rhythmically, just like the rise of his chest under your head.

And you fall a little more in love with him as he whispers into your ear in his soft, low voice.