"What did that poem mean?" Yoongi asked softly to me. We were seated at the kitchen table next to each other, and I stared down at another coloring I had drew just for him, again. Despite the rumor of me liking him, I still colored pictures for him because he's the only one in the family that cared about my hobbies and ambitions. But now he was seated right in front of me with a sincere look of concern, and expecting an answer I didn't know how to give. 

"Hana, please tell me what that poem meant." Yoongi asked again, and I didn't have the heart to look at him. I kept my eyes at the ground trying to form an answer, but soon felt myself panic. I shouldn't have given him the poem. I shouldn't have given him the poem. I shouldn't have given him the poem. I shouldn't have given him the poem.

Yoongi put a hand on my shoulder...

"Don't touch me!" I scoot my chair far away from him and breathes heavily, unsure of why I did that. Yoongi's eyes widened with shock as he froze. I wiped away some sudden tears that rolled down my cheek without consent. Why couldn't I just answer the question? 

"I'm sorry," He stood up and for the first time I made eye contact with him since the conversation started. "I'll head downstairs now." You could see the hurt, or guilt, in his eyes as he hesitated on turning away. 

"Wait-" I croaked and he instantly turned back to me. It looked like he almost expected an answer, but I only pushed over my coloring. "I made you another picture." 

A small, but disappointed, smile formed at his lips and he slowly took the drawing off the table. "Thank you," Was all he said before disappearing into the basement.