#pyk

It took me a while to think of a wip that had all three (since I don’t usually write enemies to lovers), but then I remembered I have a story in my wips masterlist that has all three and I had a full-on epiphany JSJSDJDSJDJ. It’s not fully finished, but I do have some bits of it, so I’ll share one of those!!!

The brick wall against your back felt far too cold compared to your skin—tingling, burning, itching with every passing second. Your nails dug into the skin of your arms so hard your knuckles turned white.

And even then, you couldn’t feel that pain.

You couldn’t feel it when the pressure in your chest and the lack of air in your lungs overpowered everything else.

You wanted to throw up. You wanted to cry. You wanted to run back to your apartment and bury yourself in your sheets, drowning your sorrow into your pillow until there was nothing left to let out.

But it was barely midday. You still had two classes to attend, and your attendance was already at risk after all the times you’d had to miss because of personal issues.

“Breathe, breathe,” you repeated to yourself over and over again, letting out a shaky gasp as your legs trembled before finally giving out, your body collapsing completely onto the floor.

God, how you hated being so weak.

“Do you spend all day crying, or only when you’re around me?”

Your body tensed the moment your mind registered his words, your teary, reddened eyes searching for where his voice had come from.

Just a few feet away stood Min Yoongi, an unlit cigarette resting between his fingers, his dark eyes fixed on your face with such intensity that your skin prickled. He wore the same jacket from the last time you’d seen him, and his expression… well, it hadn’t changed. Disdain, almost disgust, like you were a crumpled piece of paper in his way, something he felt the need to kick aside so he wouldn’t trip over it.

God, how you hated that look. How you hated him, his careless, confident attitude and… just him.

“I—I don’t.”

“I’ve only seen you five times in the past two weeks. Not once were you not crying like…,” he shook his head, pulling a lighter from his jacket and lighting the cigarette. You had noticed the flavor the last time you saw him; mint.

Just like his hair.

Stupid freak.

“Forget it.”