Curiosity

Week passed. The cherry blossom tree near the court was now lush and blooming, petals drifting to the ground where yoongi used to stand in the defeat.

He'd been training harder than ever- morning drills before sunrise, extra shots after practice. His teammates noticed it first, and his had returned.

One evening, as he walked past that same bench - now free of its water bottle but not her note(still tucked in his wallet)- he spotted a familiar figure sitting there. The same girl was drawing something quietly in a notebook.

A paused, then he approached her with uncharacteristic hesitation. "You." His voice wasn't cold this time, just firm with something like curiosity(or maybe gratitude).

She titled her head at his voice and then smiled slightly. Her smile caught him off guard - small but genuine. It was the first time he'd seen her express anything.

He waited for moments, then gestures toward her notebook, shifting his weight, "What are you drawing?" He wasn't too demanding. he just sounded curious.

(Internaly: Why is she even here? And does that bother me so much?)

She just shook her head, closing the book.

He huffed softly, frustration flickering in his eyes. She was being so elusive, so secretive.

But he was curious in spite of himself. He stepped closer, standing directly over her now. "Why won't you show me? It's just a drawing." There was undercut impatient in his tone but beneath a hint of pleading.

She gave him side eye look, shaking her head as 'nothing special'.

He puffed. This stubborn silence was infuriating- but he didn't walk away. Instead, he reached down and snatched the book from her hands. She stared at him at his sudden act. He flipped it open to the latest sketch - freezing at what he saw. He stumbled on his feet.

(A DETAILED DRAWING OF HIM. NOT AS CAPTAIN, NOT MID-GAME....but slumped under that cherry blossom tree defeated)

His grip on the notebook loosened slightly. "You....we're watching me then?" His voice came out quieter than intended.

She shook her head vigorously, scratching his back of the neck. His brow furrowed. It was like catching smoke on his hands - he could never seem to pin her down.

He let out a frustrated breath and sat down beside her, dropping the book between them with an unceremonious plop.

As they sat there, the sky shifted from violet to indigo, stars just beginning to gleam. The park around them was now darker, quieter...more intimate..

Yoongi finally broke the silence. "w-why did you draw me?"

She slightly slipped the book in her bag, then shrugged her shoulder like it's normal.

He caught the movement. The way she hid the book like it was something to be ashamed of. It stung, even if he didn't understand why.

She was about to stand up and leave. Without thinking, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist - not rough but firm enough to stop her from walking away.

"I asked you something, answer me." His voice was low now; not a demanding but something closer to desperation. "You don't get to just-just...watch me fall apart and then leave--" he paused for a moment when she looked at him constantly "its not like I- I'm- j-just because I don't like being- I don't want someone pity yeah." He noded at his own statement, trying to convince her on his lane excuse.

Her stillness unnerved him. He could feel the pulse in her wrist-- steady, unshaken by his grip.

Something in his chest twisted. Was he being too harsh? Maybe.

"Fine." He released her wrist abruptly, shoving a hand through his hair instead as if to physically push back the frustration building inside him. "You don't have - i mean, if you don't want to talk to me," he muttered, "but at least....don't act like I'm nothing to you." She looked down at her wrist where his hand was holding her, and then she smiled unknowingly. She stood up and left. He watched her leave her smile, and her backpack slung over her shoulder. His hand tinged from her wrist. A huff. A clenched jaw. A muttered curse . "What the hell is wrong with me....?" As a Park fell quieter, yoongi remained there- staring into darkness.

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