YOURA

He's mad.

I can tell he is the moment his face freezes, his body tensing under his cloak.

"Did I— Youra, did I hear that right?" He says, and I start to get a bit nervous at his stunned tone.

"Youra?"

"Y-Yeah." I whisper, swallowing. "It's fine because I have you, Yoongi. I don't need to make any friends—"

"And when I'm gone?"

My face pales. He's looking at me seriously now, but what he'd just said scares me even more.

"You— what? You're not going to go anywhere." I murmur, my voice cracking a bit. "You're staying with me. Aren't you?"

He pulls me into his chest.

"Listen."

I'm shaking. Now that he'd put that thought in my mind, it was scarier than dying.

I couldn't— I wouldn't live without him. There was no reason to.

"Tomorrow," He says, more calmly. "Tomorrow I want you to make friends with that boy. What's his name?"

"K-Kim Taehyung."

"Right. Kim Taehyung." Yoongi says, brushing his fingers down my hair.

"I want you to meet people. Remember that I'm just your dream, Youra. I'm not real, I'm not tangible."

Not real.

It's like being put back in place.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, kissing my forehead. "I'll be here for you, to listen to you and to keep nightmares away."

"But I can't be anything more."

My eyes drop to the grass. I kept forgetting, I really did.

I kept forgetting that he was just my dream, not my reality. He wasn't real.

"So what do I want you to do tomorrow, Youra?"

"M-Make friends with people."

"Yes."

Yoongi wraps me into his arms, his touch cold. It's just another reminder that he isn't human, not what I am but something else.

He closes my eyes.

"I'm sorry."

_________________________

"H-Hello."

"Hi!" Taehyung says, giving me a bright smile. He waves at me to sit down next to him, and I put my backpack on the floor.

My heart's all jittery with nerves.

He starts to shuffle through his pack, and I blink in surprise when a crumpled piece of paper lands on our table.

Taehyung instantly frowns at it.

"Idiots." He mumbles, pushing it off the edge. "Don't mind them. They're just mean idiots."

I flush.

"Sorry." I whisper, starting to get my books. "It's because of me. I should probably lea—"

"No, no. Don't."

He pulls me back down, and I purse my lips when all of a sudden, Seorin's disgusted giggles come from the opposite side of the classroom.

"The two are finally together! I knew it was going to happen sooner or—"

I curl up into my chest.

But Taehyung seems unfazed, and I see why just a literal second later.

"Kim Seorin." Jungkook hisses, and my nervousness level just gets worse when he sits down across from Taehyung. "Your voice is so damn annoying so just stop talking."

Of course.

I should've been prepared for this.

Jungkook was famous in the school for being one of the most athletic boys— and also Taehyung's best friend.

He was scary.

"Who's this, Tae?"

"Youra!" He replies, and I force out a quiet hello at the dark-eyed boy. His stare couldn't beat Yoongi's, but I knew Yoongi.

Jungkook tilts his head at me.

"Don't get Tae into trouble," He says, and Taehyung snaps his head up. "I swear if you're—"

"Kook! You're being so rude!"

But I'm already out of there. I hear Taehyung calling my name behind my shoulder, but I wasn't strong enough to go back.

I wince at the disappointed look he'd probably give me.

I'm sorry, Yoongi.

But that Jungkook guy— Taehyung was nice, but he was probably going to kill me if I just breathed in the wrong way.

I sigh.

This was too hard.

_________________________

"It didn't go well?"

I nod into my palm. I'd gone to sleep the moment I'd come back from school, because the last thing I wanted to do was work.

"I tried. I promise."

"I know you did." He says, his long fingers spread out over the grass.

"You said this— Jungkook? He's scaring you?"

"I don't think he meant to." I whisper, making figures into the dirt. "He's just really overprotective over his friend. And besides, I make a lot of trouble too."

"So I don't really blame—"

Then pain suddenly slices through my head.

I instantly stop talking, my eyes wide with my body all stiff with the pain. Then it comes again, and Yoongi's face pales.

"What's wrong?"

My throat clutches up.

"Youra, what's wrong?"

I point at my head. But my eyes squeeze together again when a high-pitched ringing echoes through my mind, blinding my ears.

"You're waking up."

He sounds more panicked than I'd ever seen him. "Let go, Youra. Someone's waking you up."

"But I want to sta—"

Let go!"

So I do, stunned by his yell. My eyes snap open in reality, and my fingertips ice over when I see who'd woken me up.

My father.

He's drunk.

"Get the hell up." He slurs, and I quickly shuffle up to my feet in fear as he drags me up from the bed. "Sleeping this early— you're as lazy as your damn mother, aren't you?"

The first blow comes out of nowhere.

"Dad!"

He hits me across the face with his hand, and I crash to the floor in shock, still stunned.

There were a lot of times when my father had yelled at me. But he'd never hit me before.

And he's doing it now.

I scramble to my feet, running for the door when I see him pick up a chair in one hand.

Mother. What did he do to her?

"I never told you that you can go." He yells at the top of his lungs, and I don't even get one feet out before he pulls me back by my hair.

"You look so damn close to her. Maybe she got you with another man, too."

Why is he like this?

I barely get my hands above my head the moment he slams the chair down, and I scream when I feel something break.

Painful tears run down my face.

My wrist's broken.

"Loud @&$&&." He spits, and I hold my hand to my chest as I curl up tightly on the floor. "Useless. What did I even raise you for all this time, hm?"

I'm trembling when he leaves.

My father. My father who used to congratulate me on my perfect marks and had bought me ice cream every Saturday.

He'd just hit me.

I start to sob uncontrollably against the floor.

Everything's falling apart.

And I can't keep it together.

_________________________

I can't fall asleep.

But I need to get to him. I need to be with him, cry and talk to him before my heart burst with all the emotions. Didn't he know he was the only one I could depend on?

It's late night now, and my wrist still hurts as I stumble up from bed.

Quiet. Be quiet.

Carefully, I peek out of my door. The hallway's empty, and I silently pad down the stairs to the kitchen.

There's glass everywhere.

My stomach hurts just looking at it, and I hurry to grab the bottle of sleeping pills from the pantry. I didn't know what to even do with my wrist— Yoongi would know.

I just need to sleep.

The white bottle clutched in my hands, I run back up the stairs and shut myself in my room.

One.

One should be enough.

I empty a pill into my mouth, and wait patiently for sleep. But it doesn't come, so I just take another one.

I end up taking three until I finally fall unconscious.