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stxrvel · 2 months ago

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greatest (7)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. exbestfriends now public enemy no. 1 ot7 x f!reader for now content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, ANGST ANGST, around 8k words of emotions, a LOT of feelings to unpack (A LOT), a lot of text too, i'm sorry for that. a/n. guys omg. i can't believe this. i dont even have the words. i'm just sorry and hope you really like this chapter! i'll be waiting for your comments :')

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I'm trying my best.

No one knows. No one needs to know. They don't have to know. I don't even have to be so aware of it.

But I'm trying my best.

Was your best effort... enough?

I have to do the right thing. I have to do what's best for me. Why do I have to do the right thing if it's not what's best for me? What if what's best for me isn't the right thing?

Who could make a good decision?

Anyone would make a worse one than the last.

I just wanted compassion. And I waited... I waited too long for it.

Sending the message wasn't as difficult as you had thought. You were still angry, clearly; you still felt betrayed and suspicious of their intentions, definitely; you still intended to keep your distance, of course. Despite all that, you found a window to observe the scene objectively: the scene where you kept circling around a well, worried because you were thirsty and couldn't reach the water at the bottom, while the rest of the people kept walking by with bottled water. The scenario you perhaps needed; the grotesque and ordinary reality check that might allow you to be a little more mature.

There was no intention to forgive in your heart at that moment. There was something that still held back those emotions and did not welcome those thoughts. Whether it was their audacity or the need to maintain your dignity, you did not know. But there were other steps you could take in the meantime.

The number of events, and specifically that conversation with Dohyun, led you to consult with your pillow about a number of scenarios, events, occurrences, and conversations that had never happened, but were alternatives to the number of decisions you could make now.

You were facing a road with four thousand paths to the same place.

Healing.

Whether you wanted to go through the dark forest, the ocean, the desert, or the countryside was up to you.

But making a good decision was not in the cards. Whatever you chose, there could always be something better or worse. All you wanted at that moment was to be guided by the need your heart expressed; perhaps for the first time in a long time, you didn't think it was too crazy.

Taehyung was one of the people who supported you the most in your dream of becoming a writer, which is why he must've been motivated to make that crazy decision to expose you to the public (against your will). Not the right one, but a decision nonetheless. Jungkook was one of your closest friends because you were closest in age, which is why it made sense that he would be the most daring of them all and make the extreme decision to see you in person (against your will, like a stalker, it should be noted). Not the right one, but a decision nonetheless. Jin was always like an older brother to you, a constant support, a shoulder to lean on, which is why it would be obvious that he would try to use his connections to help you fulfill your dream (yes, you know, against your will). Not the right one, but a decision nonetheless.

A simple decision that can always change everything. Good or bad, who can really know when making it? When what runs through your body is nostalgia, a forgotten love buried deep in your soul, an unforgettable and unforgivable longing, a devastating silence, the need to want to change things. The desire to make up for something.

You were no exception to the rule. What human being didn't make mistakes? You were clearly the most affected by their decisions; by whatever had happened ten years ago that you didn't know about, and by what was happening now. Stepping aside probably wouldn't solve anything. It was as if Pandora's box had been opened. Trying to distance yourself only brought them closer, and the path your life was taking now didn't seem to take you as far away from them as you wanted.

It turns out that the less you want something, the more you attract it.

“You know I don't interfere in your decisions, sweetheart.”

Your mom was cleaning the kitchen. She'd had her nails done a few days ago, you had sent her the money: but there she was, scrubbing the tiles, using rags to clean the tables, dipping them in the water that had accumulated in the large pots. Without a hint of regret, without disgust or displeasure... just doing what she had to do (and what she wouldn't let you do, no matter how much you insisted).

Maybe because you cried too much. Or because your mother knew you better than anyone else in the world and knew that you couldn't bear to show yourself vulnerable in front of others, no matter who they were. Your mom was one of the exceptions, because there was no one else, not even your father or Seojun, who had seen you at your lowest point like she had.

“But... how do I know... if that was... the right thing to do...?”

It was early morning. Really early. You had been crying in the kitchen after sending the message. Your mother woke up and decided to go downstairs to get a drink; instead, she found her daughter on the kitchen island with her face pressed against the marble and a pool of tears and saliva around her. There were no words, they weren't necessary. She moved around the kitchen after squeezing your shoulder and cooked one of your favorite dishes from when you were little.

Maybe it was the sound of the utensils clattering, or the boiling water, or the mesmerizing smell that made your stomach growl at two in the morning, you weren't sure; but in the midst of so many comforting imaginary hugs, you stopped crying and were able to tell your mom what had been going on.

Your voice was still breaking up after you had eaten and stopped crying. Bringing up the subject at this level of vulnerability still made you sensitive.

“No one can tell you what's right or wrong, darling. Do what your heart tells you to do. If you feel that this is the way you can rest, do it. But with a clear conscience. You're not betraying yourself, you're fighting for yourself.”

The kitchen already looked spotless, but your mother continued to wipe the kitchen counter with blue rags, still with her back to you.

“Lift your chin, go get what you need; tear them down if necessary, and heal yourself.”

“Mom...” you whined, dropping your head back onto the counter, the cold marble sending shivers through your body.

“Never regret the decisions you make. They make you who you are. They are what have shaped you all these years. They are what have brought you this far.”

With a full stomach, sleep began to overwhelm you. You knew your mom was right. Maybe not many people would be convinced, but you were. That was enough. It was what you wanted. You had to convince yourself that you weren't trying to excuse them for the stupid, confusing emotions you still had and that you would eventually give up; you had to be sure that you were doing this for yourself and not for them; you had to know that you weren't looking for forgiveness, just an explanation. That would be all and nothing more.

“If in a couple of years your heart feels it can find forgiveness for them after knowing the truth of what happened, then you will make the decision at that time.”

Not the right one, but a decision.

Surely other people could move on by forgetting; by ignoring. And maybe you would have, if all those decisions hadn't been made. If they hadn't tried to come back into your life, for whatever reason, maybe someday in twenty years you would've thought about them and laughed.

Maybe ten years was enough time for some. For you, it was the blink of an eye. As if it were yesterday. Ten years of unforgivable silence. Ten years of a wound, a deep pit.

“But you're not looking for that now, are you?”

Your mother turned on her heel, the rag forgotten and her arms akimbo. She looked stern, as she knew you preferred when you had these moments, but in her eyes it was clear that she felt as sensitive as you did.

You shook your head in denial, calmer, a little more relaxed.

Emotional repression really was a serious problem.

“Then stop worrying. Go get what you want and that's it.”

It was so annoying when the simplest things ended up being the truest. You rolled your eyes, but your lips curved into a smile and your mother mimicked your gesture.

“Now, let's go to sleep before either of those two wake up.”

“I highly doubt it,” you smiled, letting your mother put her arm around your shoulders as you held onto her waist to walk back to the second floor. “Seojun has all of dad's genes. They snore like a tractor and wouldn't wake up even if there was an earthquake.”

Your mother laughed out loud. The kitchen lights went out and darkness welcomed you once again, but you didn't feel like anything was missing at that moment. Maybe you had never felt brighter.

Tomorrow would be another day. Another opportunity. Definitely another decision to face the world.

Surrounded by a bunch of people who were also deciding, for better or worse, how to face their own world every day.

Jin always hoped that silence would welcome him when he got home. His chaotic job and the amount of movement he had to deal with during the day were exhausting enough to make him want to come home and melt into the darkness of his room until he had to return the next day. Although Jin had already made a name for himself in medicine in his country and was a renowned cardiologist working at one of the most prestigious hospitals and university centers in the country, that didn't mean he didn't suffer from the exhaustion of the hectic life of medicine.

That's why arriving home and being greeted by nothing but a breeze was music to his ears. The voices began to fade and his shoulders relaxed.

Jin sighed.

I have to try. I have to try...

This time, the sound came from the living room. It didn't take him long to find them once he crossed the hallway leading from the entrance to the main room, where the giant television glowed and made the heads of those lying in front of it on the large gray couch, one of the first they had bought for that large apartment, shine.

If their heads recognized the sound of keys when he entered, the lock when he closed the door, or his heavy footsteps with wet soles when he arrived, none of them showed it. They were all determined to keep their eyes on the television, on the most famous talk show in the United States, where Jungkook was performing that night.

Jin had clearly not forgotten that performance. In fact, he had tried to rearrange his schedule as much as possible to be able to watch it on time. How could he not support Jungkook? But standing there, behind the others who hadn't even noticed his presence, he felt something in his body holding him back from moving forward.

Yes, they all had talked the night before. And yes, they were supposed to have parted on good terms. Jin assumed he was capable of looking past their misunderstandings, like the incredibly functional adult he was; like the eldest in that house who set an example. But the truth was that sometimes he ended up being the most immature of them all, the most emotionally constipated, and the one who had the hardest time letting go of resentment. That's why he felt like his feet were planted on the ground.

As the eldest, Jin worked hard during his adolescence and early adulthood to earn the prestigious name he now had in medicine in his country, all with the goal of being a great provider, an anchor, to ensure a secure and peaceful future for everyone; for his family. And his work cost him too much, one of which was increasing the distance between him and the others in that house.

Jin had achieved the stability he wanted, but at a very high cost.

His gaze moved from head to head, then settled on the figure on the screen.

It hadn't been long since Jungkook released that song, and it had already broken some streaming records.

It was a surprise to a few that, of all his options, he finally decided to release that song.

Taehyung was sitting on the edge of the couch, with Yoongi and Hoseok settled on the other side. There was no sign of Namjoon or Jimin anywhere in the room. Jin looked around, but all the other lights were off. It was around ten o'clock at night. Where could they be, if they weren't watching the performance in the living room? Had they argued again?

Jin held back a sigh and leaned against the wall so he could watch Jungkook, not feeling very inclined to approach the couch if another argument had broken out between them. He didn't want to be the center of the discussion again, much less fan the flames of a fire that might already be smoldering among the ashes. It had been too difficult for him to work on his relationship with others again, to try to keep the bond intact, especially when he had such a demanding job that didn't allow him to be close enough to end up ruining things with his recurring bad temper and reckless comments.

“Ah... Jungkookie is a first-rate artist.” Taehyung commented, followed by murmurs of agreement from the others.

Jin smiled. He was proud of how far Jungkook had come. Although everyone had recently had their ups and downs, this was something that nothing and no one could ruin. He was proud that everyone had worked hard to fulfill their dreams and together had achieved what they wanted.

Together...

The presentation ended and Jin blinked. He heard Hoseok's exclamation when the shot quickly cut to Jungkook's face and caught sight of his crystallized eyes. It was nothing new. Jin had accompanied the youngest a couple of times to the studio when he was recording this song, accompanied by the siamese or just the two of them. They were probably the only ones who had gone through the entire process of constructing the song with him.

It was very sentimental. A painful regret. Jin believed it was a true display of grief and sorrow. A wish to the air and the empty sky to turn back time. A confession that falls on deaf ears, like shouting in the middle of the desert. An absurd hope.

A reflection, perhaps, of the thoughts of seven people in a single song.

“Was he crying?” Hoseok turned to look at Yoongi, his expression upset and his eyes worried. “We have to call him.”

“It always happens to him with that song.” Taehyung sounded resigned, now leaning back in his chair as the program credits rolled. “Let's wait for him to text us that he's at the hotel. He must be feeling overwhelmed right now.”

“Is that song about who I think it's about?” Yoongi, always asking the right questions, turned to look at Taehyung, accompanied by a confused look from Hoseok.

Taehyung looked back at him but didn't answer. Jin, his arms crossed over his chest, watched the interaction until Yoongi became lost in his own thoughts and Hoseok took out his phone, perhaps to reread the lyrics.

Maybe this was the only Jungkook song that not everyone had heard before it was released.

Jin felt his phone vibrate in his pants pocket and moved to finally leave the room and head to his bedroom. If he fell asleep at that moment, he would have at least five hours to sleep peacefully. He had achieved his purpose for the day, and that was enough.

He couldn't deny, however, that he felt bad about walking away like that without talking to them. The logical part of his brain told him he should just do it without thinking too much about it, but the other part, the one that was too sentimental and anxious, only reminded him of the distance and the chasm he himself had dug between them and prevented him from getting closer, from building a bridge to see them. He didn't deserve it. Not now.

Yoongi sank into the armchair, his mind lost in speculation. Taehyung's silence was pressing, and that only made him begin to consider how many other things the others knew and did that they sometimes didn't share with anyone. It wasn't that they always told each other every secret, nor was it a condition of their friendship to do so, but this... that song seemed too deep for everyone.

Sighing, Yoongi knew there was no room for reproach or anything like that, far from it. He would read the lyrics later in bed, as Hoseok was doing at that moment, and then he would fall asleep with a heavy heart. What did it matter?

He turned off the TV and the house finally fell silent.

He no longer felt Jin's presence behind them.

“What time were the others coming home?” Yoongi tried to bring them back to the present.

Taehyung blinked and watched him get up, moving toward the kitchen.

“Namjoon said not to wait for them.”

Yoongi hummed in agreement.

“Did they say what they were going to do, hyung?”

Hoseok shook his head in response, locking his phone and setting it down on the small table in front of the couch, his lips pressed into a line and his gaze fixed on some point on the table. Yoongi returned with a glass of cold water and watched them, Taehyung twisting his lips and frowning, as if trying to telepathically figure out where his twin was.

“It must be something important,” Yoongi commented simply, shrugging when Taehyung gave him an inquiring look.

“And if it's important, why wouldn't they tell us?”

“Don't start. You get like this every time Jimin does something without you.”

“That's not true!”

“It's true, Taehyungie.”

Taehyung barely grunted in response, crossing his arms over his chest. Yoongi needed to go to bed early so he could get up early to finish his new album tomorrow. He had everything ready and would already be in bed if it weren't for Jungkook's presentation that happened to coincide with that night. He would wait for him to confirm in the group chat that he was already in his room before drifting off to sleep that night. He wouldn't think about anything but his work.

Or at least he would try.

Because, if he had to be honest, he felt as curious as Taehyung. With the number of unwanted events that had occurred in recent days, he couldn't help but think that the unexplained disappearance of those two could be suspicious. Although everyone had already come to some kind of agreement, the truth was that when it came to a specific person, none of them could think clearly.

Yoongi looked up when he heard the sound of keys against the front door. Hoseok turned to look, and Taehyung got up from the couch and started toward the entrance.

“Where were you guys? You didn't say— oh, hi, hyung.”

Namjoon appeared in the living room. He looked tired, as always, especially these last few days, and Yoongi recognized it with a heavy heart. He was practically the one who had taken the lead without anyone ever asking him to; the one who always looked out for everyone and did the impossible to get them where they were now. He was the one who always made the toughest decisions and the only one who tried to include everyone in the decision-making process when other people looked over their shoulders.

They had been lucky to meet someone like Namjoon.

Yoongi watched him walk, in his socks, with his briefcase in his right hand and his jacket in his left, his eyes so small from sleep that it looked like he was already asleep as he walked toward them. More recently than ever, as far as Yoongi knew, Namjoon was no longer sleeping as well as he used to. He didn't want to say it was because of recent events, because if anything was certain, it was that Namjoon carried a huge burden of guilt that had never let him sleep well.

But both he and Hoseok were the ones who kept it hidden the most, for the sake of everyone in that house. To try to maintain unity. To prevent what they had worked so hard to bring together since that cold winter from falling apart again.

“I couldn't make it to Jungkook's presentation. I saw it on the way here.” Namjoon dropped his things on the couch and then himself, running his hands over his face in a gesture of exhaustion. Yoongi watched Taehyung circle the furniture and repeated in his head the question he knew he was going to ask the older man.

“And Jimin?”

For some reason, Namjoon froze. He removed his hands from his face and looked at Tae as if he had just told him that his whole life had been a dream. Taehyung noticed his strange look and frowned.

“Jimin?” Now Namjoon looked worried. He went from surprise to controlled panic, only as he knew how to do it. He sat down slowly on the couch and looked at each of those present. Hoseok shook his head, informing him that he didn't know anything about the blond either. “We split up a while ago because he said he had things to do. I thought he was already here.”

“No, he's not here.”

Namjoon turned to look at Yoongi when he answered, the anguish he was trying to suppress overflowing from his face. By that point, everyone had realized that it wasn't a good sign that Jimin wasn't in the penthouse at that moment. Yoongi could guess the reason behind it, but he didn't like the direction his conjectures were taking. From the stern way Namjoon was looking at him, how his features hardened, Yoongi could only conclude that, sadly, he was right.

How could they not have realized that before? Maybe Jimin was the one they should be most worried about.

“If Jimin isn't here and he wasn't with you... where is he?”

Hoseok asked, tilting his head, his features cautious, as if he were about to reach the same conclusion as Yoongi and wanted Namjoon to confirm otherwise.

Taehyung just put his hands to his head, distancing himself from the group.

“Shit!”

Yuna wasn't someone who hid things for malicious purposes. Many things in her life had taught her when to talk about something and when it was better to remain silent, waiting, giving the other person space to open up at their own pace, to build trust, because emotions and trauma were very difficult to process.

Yuna didn't know for sure, but she had a feeling that you had gone through some kind of shocking event in your life that had left an emotional mark on you. She knew this from the dry, resentful way you spoke to her when you first met; from the way you interacted with people, with your coworkers; she knew it from how you never trusted anyone, from how you kept very superficial relationships with people, and because the only reason you were still friends was because Yuna hadn't left you, because she had never crossed your boundaries, because she had proven herself worthy of your trust... because she had never asked too many questions.

When it came to you, Yuna learned to tread lightly, and although it sounded awful, although anyone outside your relationship who could see it from the outside would think it was an attitude derived from her friend's selfishness, she couldn't simply try to fight that instinct that had been born out of a traumatic experience. How could she confront someone so inhumanely?

Yuna used to wonder a lot what situation could've caused that kind of mistrust in you. More recently, Yuna wondered if her conjectures could be true.

“What are you going to do?”

“I can't give you any details...”

You don't want to. Yuna bit her tongue.

Being on the receiving end of this type of relationship prevented anyone from being morally or ethically right or wrong in any of the positions you decided to take to confront it.

Let us consider these scenarios:

You could be downright evil, in which case it would cost you nothing to attack with questions about the subject that was clearly sensitive to the distrustful person, but you could, subjectively, justify it as your “right” to an answer: Am I not worthy enough of your trust? Haven't we come this far because you trust me, or is that not enough?

Then, you could be understanding, empathetic, extremely permissive, regardless of the blow and pain caused by knowing that the person you considered unconditional in your life does not feel the same way about you after so long.

On the other hand, you can be objectively empathetic, simply go with the flow, make decisions, keep up with the pace of life, knowing that everyone resolves things in their own way, respecting boundaries from a neutral standpoint and knowing that there is nothing that can be done about it.

Everything was subjective.

Yuna, for her part, believed she belonged to the third group that would never pressure, that would not try to force answers out, and that would never feel resentment for the other person's lack of trust because it was never personal, it was an instinctive response to a traumatic experience.

Even though with each passing year everything felt heavier and heavier. When she was not welcome in vulnerable moments and could only offer support through a screen, without knowing if that was what was needed or if it was enough, because she didn't have enough knowledge of the context. When she had to be the target of misdirected anger, which couldn't be directed anywhere else because it was stuck at the bottom of a broken heart that had been left alone for so long. When she couldn't support you at every moment, because the moments when she had been able to glimpse that heartbreaking vulnerability were fleeting, as fleeting as a blink of an eye, so short that she had to ask herself several times if it had really happened.

That's how it was the last time, when she found you crying in the cellar as soon as you came back from lunch.

Yuna would never pressure you. Yuna would never demand answers. Yuna never mentioned seeing Jeon Jungkook's depressed face on the other side of the door through the small window in the storage room, which was right in front of her when she entered the room and found you on the floor, because it wasn't her place to seek those answers. It wasn't her life, it wasn't her feelings, and it was certainly a decision not to take it personally, because it wasn't.

That's why she felt concerned when you told her you were going to meet someone to face something you should've gotten over long ago. Yuna felt that you were going to encounter something that could shock you; something you might not be ready to face yet. Anyone would say she was overreacting, but Yuna knew your mannerisms very well in those moments of anxiety.

Nevertheless...

There was a guilt that haunted her. And Yuna was not someone who hid things with malicious intent, no. She knew she was in no position to demand explanations. But maybe many of those things had been her fault. Maybe whatever was going on could've been quickly stopped and disappeared if she hadn't gotten in the way. She didn't think, of course, that it would backfire so soon.

Yuna knew she had made many mistakes in her life, and perhaps hiding what happened that afternoon in the cafeteria had been one of the worst.

“And you have to go alone?”

“Well... if it's something from my past, it's something I should face on my own, don't you think?”

“Well, yes... there are things that can only be overcome by facing them. But that doesn't mean you have to put yourself in a situation you're not ready for...”

Yuna almost cringed when you stopped and turned to look at her with a frown. She hated the feeling that ran through her body, with your eyes asking her if she was really trying to cross that line; if she really wanted to venture to keep asking. Yuna wanted to bite her tongue, because she knew what kind of situation pressing further would lead to, and her instincts told her that she had to avoid that confrontation at all costs, but it seemed that the fear and uncertainty she felt about how the whole situation might affect you was much greater.

Her real question now was: what was she willing to sacrifice?

"I've been running away from that for many years. I think this is a good opportunity to end it all at the root."

Your words echoed in reflection, in the internal perception that this was a completely rational decision and, above all, that it left no room for rebuttal or contradiction. Yuna understood this from your words, your tone of voice, and the (maybe) upset look you were trying hard to hide. She felt her chest constrict, as if someone were crushing her ribs and cutting off her breath. What could she do? What should she do? How far could she go? What should she say?

Did what you were going to do... have anything to do with the result of something she had done?

Yuna wasn't someone who hid things with malicious intent; Yuna was not someone who lied, much less someone who wanted to cause pain to the people she loved. But Yuna was someone who made mistakes, someone who made bad decisions, and someone who, deep down in her heart, feared losing the people closest to her because of those bad decisions. Yuna was someone who constantly carried regrets and low self-esteem, which she usually hid behind the impartial role she played in people's lives. Yuna would never hurt a family member, friend, or loved one on purpose with her actions; she would never hide something from them that would cause them great pain...

Or so she wanted to believe.

Because now, with her heart in her throat and her breath short, looking at you ready to walk out that door, pushed into a reality that perhaps you didn't yet have to face, Yuna could see that many of her beliefs were beginning to crumble.

Perhaps she was someone who deliberately hid things, causing long-term collateral damage; as if slowing down time before detonating a grenade. Perhaps she was someone who consciously made bad decisions and then worried every day about their consequences. Perhaps she was a complacent person; fearful of the loneliness of rejection.

Perhaps Yuna had malicious behaviors. Intentional or not, she had them.

And that didn't make her as good a person as she wanted to believe. It made her doubt herself. Think twice about her next words. Question her ideals. Practice her steps. Repeat the words of others in her head. Plan a response to each accusation; a justification she knew would have no basis and would never be accepted—

“Yuna.”

“Huh?”

“Don't worry so much,” you said, already wearing your jacket and carrying a small white bag over your left shoulder. Your hand was on her shoulder, the physical contact completely taking her out of her head, realizing she had wasted valuable minutes overthinking. Unlike a couple of minutes ago, your eyes were a little warmer and your expression became a little kinder.

“I don't want you to be alone.”

She barely whispered it, but she knew you had heard her clearly.

What would happen now?

You dropped your hand, your expression becoming indescribable in a matter of seconds. It seemed like you were processing her words, no different from what you would have heard on any other day when Yuna tried to comfort you. But as always, Yuna expected you to smile and downplay the situation, your feelings, putting up that invisible emotional wall and taking away the chance for that friendship to blossom into something different; into something more unconditional.

“I don't think it's something you need to be so worried about, really.”

The words she was hoping for were there.

“Doesn't this have something to do with your attitude over the last few days?”

Yuna blurted out the words without even taking a moment to make sure they were the right ones, and even though her body froze and her nerves froze too when you stopped halfway to the door, she continued talking without thinking twice.

“I know you're trying to hide it, but you look more tired every day. And I know it's more than just the books. Why don't you...?” Yuna swallowed, finding that she preferred to have you in front of her rather than face the uncertainty of your reaction to her words with your back to her. She took a deep breath, cursing how much an issue that might be trivial to many people affected her, and fearing the fact that she believed she might actually be the one to lose the most from this conversation. Still, she didn't want to continue standing idly by. “Why don't you want to tell me? I... I'm your friend. I'm here to support you. You can tell me anything—”

“Stop.”

Your voice was sharp.

But Yuna's erratic heart calmed down a little when you took a deep breath, and when you turned around, she realized that your expression wasn't as upset as she thought. It was something else... a little annoyed, hopeless, like someone who was also hiding things, but only things that affected herself.

“You're right. I'm sorry.”

...

“Huh?”

"This is something I wanted to forget at all costs. And I tried. So much time had passed that I truly believed I had gotten over it. But recently I've realized that everything is still very fresh and that no matter how hard I try, even if I want to convince myself that I feel that peace, I'll never really feel it until I can put an end to this once and for all. Every time I've felt that I can move on... that I can heal, I've encountered another obstacle and another problem and more... uncertainty that won't let me rest. I haven't been able to rest. That's why I want to do this. I need to do this. I feel like it's... the only way."

Yuna swallowed hard, unable to take her eyes off the vulnerable expression on your face. She swore she had never seen so many emotions on your face, except when you talked about your books. Her head seemed to be overheating, wondering if what she had just heard was really true.

“I promise that when I come back, I'll tell you everything.”

Confidence. Overflowing confidence was what came from you, what Yuna could see in your eyes and in the sincere smile you gave her. And while it was what she most wanted to hear from you, she couldn't find relief within herself. On the contrary, her guilt intensified, and she knew her face was betraying her, but she couldn't control it. What was she supposed to say now? What would you say if you found out? Would you keep smiling like nothing was wrong and tell her that everything was going to be okay? Would you turn your back on her, calling her a traitor? Was Yuna now worthy of that trust?

“Stop worrying.”

Yuna felt worse when she realized that you had taken her internal dilemma as an expression of her continued concern about what you were going to do, and a lump formed in her throat. God, why did she have to be such a coward?

“Call me if you need anything. And let me know when you arrive and when you leave.”

That was all Yuna could say. She felt breathless, waiting for the worst to happen at any moment; for you to turn around and point the finger at her as the culprit, as the traitor, as someone who hurt her deliberately. All the things she never wanted to be and now couldn't help but see when she looked at her reflection in your eyes.

“Okay. See you later.”

Yuna stood in the middle of the room with her mind blank and her gaze fixed on the door you had closed behind you. The silence was devastating. Her inner turmoil grew as time passed, and she had no idea what to do. Worse still, she began to wonder what would happen if you found out from someone else. Were her days already numbered? Why hadn't she said anything before? Why had she kept quiet? If she hadn't, maybe she could've avoided some of this, spared you some discomfort, prevented you from feeling so hopeless that you no longer knew what to do to find peace...

Perhaps because she had started to hyperventilate, she hadn't noticed who had opened the door after a couple of minutes.

“What's wrong?”

Yuna blinked and Seojun materialized in front of the entrance, frowning. Yuna stared back at him, paralyzed, and tried to compose herself as quickly as possible. She didn't know how long she had been standing there or how long he might've seen her in that trance. She closed and opened her fists at her sides and tried to relax her shoulders, feigning a more carefree look.

“Nothing. What are you doing here?”

Seojun looked at her suspiciously as he left his shoes at the entrance and slipped into the slippers his mother always left next to hers for when he came to visit. He was wearing a large jacket and carrying several bags in both arms. His frown didn't leave him even when he was standing in front of her.

“I bought dinner. But I don't think there's enough food for you.”

Yuna raised her eyebrows, appreciating the moment to distract herself for a second, knowing she couldn't show that vulnerability so easily, and looked between your brother and the number of bags he was carrying. “Are you insane? You're carrying the equivalent of a month's worth of groceries. You selfish idiot!”

Seojun rolled his eyes at her and, ignoring her, walked past her toward the kitchen. While calling out to his parents, Yuna took a moment to truly calm down. It was very difficult to try to have a normal conversation with her nerves on edge and her emotions about to overflow from her heart; she had to control herself or someone would notice something and she would lose everything. Especially someone like Seojun, who, although he seemed to be the most distracted and disinterested person in the world, was actually very picky and observant; Yuna knew this because the more time she spent with him, the more she realized that he was overly perceptive, especially with other people's emotions, even though he tried to give the opposite impression.

He was also very suspicious, seeming to distrust everyone, but only when it came to his family. It seemed to be something that ran in the blood of everyone here.

Anyway, she just had to take a deep breath. She still had to come up with a solution; she had to make a decision... she had to think it through carefully before acting.

“Noona!!” Seojun shouted again from the kitchen, and at that moment Yuna took one last deep breath before turning around and facing life once more.

“Stop yelling like a madman. y/n left.”

“What? Where?”

“What do you care?”

“You can't eat her food!” Seojun gave Yuna's hand a light slap when she tried to take the package of dumplings, and she just laughed in response.

“Well, do whatever you want, kiddo. We'll see what your parents say about it.”

Seojun grumbled silently. Yuna enjoyed watching him set the table, which didn't happen as often as one might think. She wondered why he had brought so much food and why he had left his college dorm on a Thursday night.

“Didn't y/n say where she was really going?”

“If you want, call her,” Yuna replied, grabbing a snack as his parents came down from the second floor.

“Argh,” Seojun shot her an annoyed look, deciding to leave the four plates on the table anyway. “Well, noona is always careful.”

Yuna watched him silently, lost in her own worries. At that moment, she received a message from you informing her that you had arrived at your destination safe and sound. Now she just had to wait for you to text her that you were on your way back, and hopefully everything would be fine. That way, Yuna would only have to worry about the things that had already happened and not about what could get worse if that didn't work out.

Was she being selfish? Thoughtless? A bad friend?

Good God. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

“Can you turn on the TV?”

Yuna shook her head and quickly moved to steal a dumpling from Seojun before running to the living room. With his reprimanding voice in the background, Yuna smiled and grabbed the white remote to change the channel that her parents always listened to while they ate dinner, the seven o'clock news.

“...it was just released a couple of hours ago, but it's already hovering around fifty million views on YouTube.”

Yuna left the TV on as background noise while everyone gathered at the table for dinner. She definitely wanted to stop thinking, to try to enjoy that moment with a sincere heart and not with the guilt of a mistake she wanted to attribute to bad faith.

“... his presence on our show is welcome, as always. This is ‘Still with You’ by Jungkook.”

Yuna let herself be carried away by the conversation.

That day, that moment If I had known it would be like this I would've kept more of them in my memories...

Jimin knew he had bad impulses, terrible behavior, and an unhealthy need to please. It was the result of bad habits, perhaps traumas he didn't usually dwell on, and his tendency to be self-conscious. Lately, he hadn't thought too much about those kinds of things. He kept them locked away in a worn chest at the back of his mind, on an island in the middle of a vast ocean. Impossible to reach, even for his own mind.

But with all these recent events... it seemed as if the ocean had dried up.

Anxiety was eating away at him. Perhaps it had been since that day several years ago when he made a crucial decision that turned out to be in vain. His opinion didn't matter; his complaints, his pleas... the tears that would break anyone's heart. Nothing mattered. What was the point of giving someone the ability to decide if everything would ultimately turn against him? What was the purpose of that unfounded hope? To leave everything to chance, to believe that everyone would think like him, that they would have the same dream, the same need.

No. Jimin was left alone. Betrayed. With a resentful and fearful heart.

Jimin didn't want to dare to say he knew how you felt... but maybe he knew at least a quarter of it.

All that, however, wasn't the only thing. That his decision wasn't decisive and that it led him to carry years of anger and resentment wasn't a convincing enough excuse or justification. After all, Jimin had made other decisions he was not proud of. There were still things he was ashamed to remember or even acknowledge.

Staying was one of the most difficult decisions he had ever made. It was also the one he regretted the most.

And if he had left, that would also have been the most difficult decision of his life and the one he would regret the most forever.

Jimin felt that he had grown up in a very unstable world. Each person lived their own experiences and developed their own personalities based on them. Each experience was a trait. For Jimin, there was hardly a moment in his life when he had not experienced anxiety, despair, and unease. Every day he regretted something different, more than he was grateful for the things he had. His decisions had given him as much as they had taken away, but he knew that if he had made the opposite decisions, he would be thinking exactly the same thing.

Even so... Jimin gave it his best shot.

Despite everything, despite the bad decisions, the ones he regretted, the things he had done and the things he hadn't done, Jimin had to keep going. He had to swallow the bitter pill of the reality he had shaped for himself and keep walking the path he had carved out. And with the best of smiles. If no one saw that he was having a hard time, no one around him would have a hard time.

And if he could prevent someone else from having a hard time, as hard as he had ten years ago, then he would do what he thought was right.

Whether it was a good or bad decision, it was the one he had made, because he believed it was the right thing to do.

His phone vibrated on the table. He looked at the time with a sinking heart. It was past eight.

The restaurant was empty. Only Jimin was there with his regrets.

When Namjoon had told him the night before that he couldn't accept his invitation to meet you, his world had fallen apart once again. He had a golden opportunity! Why did he have to waste it? How would Namjoon know it wouldn't be good? And he wouldn't be breaking his promise because he wasn't the one who initiated the meeting, and because Namjoon was smart enough to know that he wouldn't listen to him.

... right?

Be that as it may, Jimin accepted your invitation. With Namjoon or without Namjoon, he would be there. At the expense of the others... definitely. That didn't sound good at all when Jimin returned to that thought every seven minutes; how would the others react if they knew where he was, what he was going to do, and how he hadn't told them?

That was one regret.

The excuse Jimin kept repeating to himself wasn't really valid, but he did it because deep down he felt he had made the right decision. Maybe he wouldn't leave here as your best friend, but if he could get even a quarter of your attention to give you what he had wanted to give and do ten years ago, he could die happy leaving that restaurant.

Namjoon had already texted him about four times. Jimin kept looking at his phone, hoping that one of those notifications would be from you, telling him that you were on your way, that you were close, that you were almost there—

“Mr. Park.”

One of the waiters called him. The blond quickly looked up in his direction, scanning the place and the scene, hoping to find a familiar face.

“Your guest has arrived. We will begin serving dinner.”

“Wait. Where is she?”

The waiter pointed behind him and then walked away toward the kitchen. Jimin had gotten up from the table, his hand outstretched when he asked, and it began to tremble in the air. He swallowed quickly, trying to calm his heart, trying to convince himself again that he wasn't wrong, that what he was doing wasn't wrong if you wanted to be here too. He clenched his hand into a fist and brought it to his chest, forcing his body to even out his breathing and sink the anxiety that was beginning to constrict his lungs.

He looked where the waiter had pointed, a curve that prevented him from seeing beyond. This was one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, located on a high hill that offered a serene view of the city. It was built in an oval shape, and Jimin had reserved the entire place for that night. But he had to go around that curve to find you, and suddenly he felt as if his feet were glued to the ground. The red carpet that guided the main path around the restaurant, joining at each end, had never felt so terrifying.

But he could hear your footsteps getting closer and closer. Slow. Calm. It seemed like you were admiring the place.

That sound allowed him to take a deep breath.

He tried to repeat to himself that he wasn't doing anything wrong. That he wasn't being selfish. That he wouldn't care if they bombarded him with questions when he got to the penthouse later.

He tried to convince himself that he was making the right decision.

For you. For him. For everyone.

“Jimin.”

But he wasn't ready to hear your voice calling him again and realize that it was nothing like it had been before.

Jimin thought he heard glass breaking. Whether it was in his head or not, he didn't know. He had closed his eyes for a moment and felt that if he opened them, he would be filled with that panic once again. Maybe his illusions had been shattered by the icy tone of voice you used when you spoke to him; maybe something had broken in the kitchen.

He wasn't gullible. He knew he couldn't expect anything else. He clearly remembered what Jungkook had told them about that time he went to find you when he shouldn't have; he remembered his eyes full of pain and the regret reflected in his own. Maybe this was what he felt. The coldness of indifference and the despair of remorse.

Jimin wanted nothing more than for time to be a material thing that he could pull between his hands to return to the moment when all this misery began.

To return to the moment when everything broke; when they lost everything.

Fucking winter of 2013.

tag (i'll still tag in the comments): @rinkud@futuristicenemychaos@pastelpeachess@parapiop7@11thenightwemet11@yoongznme@queenbloody@lynnettys-world@darlingz99 @dreamerwasfound @chaotickyrith @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthigs @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @kariningss @juju-227592 @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @jincapableoflove @notrustfratedjin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @cerulean1riz @kawennote09 @angelfuzzy2 @themoonsblueside @damn-u-min-yoongi @drenix004 @dhanyasri @borahaetelevision

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stxrvel · 2 months ago

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absence (1)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader... or not? content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, fangirling a lot and some self-deprecation. no proofread. this is just silly writing, we're on the safe zone for now. a/n. hi guys! i was gonna wait a little bit but i'm really excited about this one so you're gonna have earlier! thank u all for the support and i really hope you enjoy this 🫶🏻

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You met them all at school. Each with their own ambitions, their different dreams, but so similar in the nature of their core. It was almost funny how everyone with their dissimilar personalities fit so strangely well into one school group. There were times when you could still remember how you used to tell them that all together they could rule the world.

Maybe that's why you didn't see them years ago.

Jeon Jungkook was an idol. There wasn't an hour in the day or a screen in the city where you weren't watching him. He was so popular around the world that you suspected that not even one person didn't know him. His voice was on every radio station, on every cell phone of the people you passed on the street and on the buses, his face on the TV sets with the last interview he had done, as if it were a national achievement. You even saw him in restaurants, chefs naming dishes after him, production companies releasing collaborations with his company. There wasn't an object in that city that didn't have Jungkook's face on its forehead. It was impossible to escape him.

He was closely followed by Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin, two of the most promising models of the last decade, a national pride hand in hand with Jungkook. You didn't see them as often as Jungkook, but they still swept the international public and there was hardly anyone who didn't talk about them. Invited to catwalks in Paris, choosing their contracts and collaborations, wearing the most expensive clothes that you wouldn't even think of buying, wearing beautiful matching jewelry, expensive enough that a single outfit from each of them could buy you five houses in the small town they all came from. Taehyung and Jimin were known as the Siamese twins of modeling. Wherever one went, the other always had to be. Their exclusivity was incomparable.

In levels of recognition, Min Yoongi followed them in line. A great rapper who was well received by the general populace. Yoongi had managed to captivate a large audience thanks to his incredible command of the production of his music and his ease and gift for writing his own lyrics. His growth was gradual, but when he touched the sky he never went down again. His popularity was not low even though his presentation to the public was not that high compared to the other three. Still, Yoongi had enough charisma and talent to stand out, especially when his fans were obsessed with highlighting the duality he had when he was on stage and when he did those seventy question interviews with Vogue or whatever… that had made him one of the best rappers of his generation and probably of the last century.

Kim Namjoon was the owner of the company that made Jungkook's debut and welcomed Yoongi with total creative freedom. If he were not solely focused on music, he would surely also be Taehyung and Jimin's agent. Namjoon had inherited a company from his parents, but the success he had turned it into over the past few years, into one of the most profitable businesses in the country, was entirely to his credit and effort. His popularity was also high, because everyone said he was too handsome to be a mere businessman; not knowing, of course, that everything involved in maintaining such a business required much more than a pretty face. Of Namjoon the public didn't know too much, not probably like the other guys and you, if he was still half the person he was before.

Hand in hand with Namjoon were Jung Hoseok and Kim Seokjin. Hoseok was and still is to this day a national pride as he passionately played tennis since school and turned professional, reaching to participate in major international tournaments representing his country and winning one of them. However, two years after that great feat, an accident involving one of his hands prevented him from continuing to play. No one knows exactly what happened during the more than a year and a half that he almost completely disappeared from the public eye, but when he returned with his huge smile he announced that he would dedicate himself to dance, opening his own academy throughout the center of the city. Although he was not a recurrent teacher, his academy was one of the best in the country, and of course, it was financed by Namjoon's company. At one time Hoseok became Namjoon's associate.

Seokjin, on the other hand, was the one who kept the lowest profile. He was a great doctor, cardiovascular if you were not mistaken. In addition to being an amazing surgeon, his research projects were the ones everyone looked forward to the most at the end of each year. You didn't know much about the subject, but he was almost like the guru of medicine in his field specifically. The only reason he was so much in the public eye being a doctor was because he was regularly seen in the company of Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi. The four of them made up the holy grail of dilfs.

They had all had incredibly successful careers and you were glad that they had been able to accomplish everything they once talked about on the rooftop of Namjoon's house, with sneaky steps so their parents wouldn't scold them when they sneaked out in the wee hours of the morning.

You didn't know exactly what it was - or you didn't want to acknowledge it - that succumbed inside you every time you saw or heard about any of them on the news or on social media. Because yeah, no matter how low media exposure any of them had, always the faces of all seven appeared on your TikTok every week.

It was amazing how they had all moved on and you… well, you-

“Weren't you supossed to leave?”

You lifted your head from your phone, trying to hide it with trembling hands as you let Taehyung's face next to Jungkook's plunge into the darkness of your apron pocket.

“Huh?”

You tried to look distracted, returning your gaze between your boss and the notes next to the cash register. She had a soft gaze, between amused and sisterly. Her brown eyes shifted from your eyes and hot cheeks to the notes you held upside down in your hands, pretending to work as if she herself hadn't seen you completely frozen and gawking at the pair of the country's great casanovas.

“I thought you were leaving earlier today,” your boss shifted, settling her trench coat and long brown strap bag over her shoulder. At that moment she was leaving to walk around to each of the locations she had in town, just to do follow-ups. “Don't tell me you forgot.”

You followed her index finger until it landed on the red circle you had drawn on the calendar placed in your little cubicle a couple of weeks ago, with hearts surrounding it and exclamation points. Yes you remembered, of course you remembered, but at the point where you were at the time no one was going to miss you if you didn't attend.

“I didn't forget…” your voice trailed off as you looked down, your fingers finding the tips of the pages more entertaining than your boss's worried expression.

“y/n, you asked me to leave earlier this day from four months ago,” her high-pitched voice echoed in your head, reminding you how excited you had been a while ago for this day to come. “You can't just give up like that. Come on. You still have time.”

You began to shake your head, releasing your grip on the woman who was looking at you with the same worried eyes of a mother. Your boss had been one of the most encouraging people you'd ever had in your life, besides the handful of friends you had stored in your phone's contacts.

“It was a bust last time. I don't plan on going through that again.”

“But hadn't you told me afterwards that you weren't going to let that stop you? You said… what was it? I can't drown in this glass of water.”

You grudgingly resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Really you of four months ago was a deluded fool.

“I had no idea about life at the time.”

Your boss clicked her tongue, dropping her hands on your shoulders, giving little squeezes whose familiarity stole your breath.

“I'll leave Patrick waiting for you in case you change your mind.”

You shook your head, evading the memories. The man outside the store shook his head in greeting as the two of you turned to look at him, as if he knew you were talking about him.

“Don't miss this opportunity because you're afraid. It may change your life.”

You watched her leave, the clacking of her low heels drawing the attention of everyone in the store, earning every possible stare as she did every time she entered any room. Her chauffeur, Patrick, greeted her with a similar nod of his head as before and stood leaning against the black car parked right where he could get a perfect view of your nervous face.

You, unlike the great and successful lives of your high school friends whose company you still used to miss like a fool, had not had such a great and successful life.

You were a writer. Well, an attempted writer and, worse, part-time. The other part-time was this job behind the cash register at the largest pastry chain in the country. Or sometimes as a waitress, it depended on the day. There was good pay, mind you, at least it allowed you to make up for the losses you took every time you tried to sell a book and then had to market it on your own, only to have five purchases once every seven months and three of them were from your parents and brother. The other two were from your friends.

Four months ago you had been invited to a sort of convention for readers, how they had found you and why? You had no idea, but the idea of being considered in that way drove you crazy at the time. You were so excited that you had more copies of your failed books printed and prepared your booth several days in advance to present them to the horde of people who, you were sure at the time, would come to meet you.

Only one person came by to ask you about the bathroom.

You never recovered from that.

Even with all that failure, that same day you were invited to another convention and, for a while, you were excited to attend. Everyone goes through those kinds of bumps at some point in their life, right? You have to work hard to earn that kind of fame, you kept telling yourself. But as time went on and your networks didn't grow and your videos didn't get more than ten views, or fifty views at most in a week, you began to lose that spark of excitement you held for your dream. Your parents had never turned your back on what you wanted to do, but it was too demotivating and discouraging to have spent so many years at it, so many headaches and tears invested for you to just keep losing and losing money.

That was why you were sure you wouldn't go to that convention if you had to go through that mockery again. You hadn't even bothered to go and fix your booth so surely they already knew you weren't going.

“Have you seen them yet??????”

The female voice coming from the wine cellar made you jump up on your chair.

“Jesus, Yuna, you almost killed me here.”

“I don't care! We could die right now for all we care!”

“Wow, speak for yourself.”

“Haven't you seen theeeem?”

Yuna held up her phone, the screen at full brightness blinding you for a moment. The blurry dots you saw from the proximity of the device told you nothing, as your friend jumped excitedly beside you.

“God, hold still.”

Grabbing her wrist, you leveled the phone to see her TikTok and a picture of three men.

Namjoon, Yoongi and Jungkook coming out of a building. From Namjoon's building.

“They look amazing, don't they? They just came out! That means their car will pass in front of us any minute!”

Yes, Namjoon's building was just a few blocks away from your boss's place. In fact, your boss knew him and many times they would prepare large orders for parties at his company. You had never seen him set foot in this place or any other in the country, but every time he went to celebrate something he had to dial your boss's personal number and you would work until your backs burned because everything had to be perfect for the big businessman.

“Are you going out to greet them or what?” you frowned, letting go of her wrist and returning your gaze to the notebook next to the cash register.

Yuna let out an excited exclamation.

“Ohhhh~, should I? Should I?”

You grabbed her by the collar of her uniform as she tried to pass behind you.

“We're still on business hours.”

“I'm sure Sol wouldn't mind,” her almost heart pupil eyes stared down the street, her hands moving in front of her like she was a zombie. She almost seemed possessed by her fanaticism. Though of course you didn't blame her, if you didn't know any of the seven knights of the underworld you would surely be as excited as she was.

“Don't put words in her mouth. You'd better tell me if the lady's batch of cakes is out yet-”

Commotion erupted throughout the room. You almost saw in slow motion how all the people in the premises got up and running in the direction of the glass doors when you heard the screams coming from far away.

“They're comiiiiiiiiiiiing!!!”

Sometimes you wondered how they dealt with this level of fanaticism.

The ground almost shook with the amount of people running after a black car, where the three men who were causing such a furor so early that day were most likely to be, and the commotion was not tiny inside the venue where the screams erupted.

Having to deal with that on a daily basis would easily turn someone into a hater. Not that you were one... strictly...

“God, for a moment we breathed the same air,” Yuna plopped down on the table, her body doubled over with her eyes lost. You resisted the urge to smack her forehead.

“Their car windows were up.”

“So you saw them, right?????”

“Argh.”

You had to drag her back to work as the excitement in the store dissipated. You attended to another batch of consumers while Yuna fixed the display case and, in a moment of lapse you could almost tell, her back suddenly straightened and she turned to look at you with her eyes a little too wide. You passed the change to the man in front of you, who barely sent you a confused glance before continuing to claim his order at the other corner of the store.

“What's wrong with you?”

“You shouldn't be here.”

“Don't say that with that face. You look creepy,” you pulled out the bill to tuck it under the cash register as Yuna approached, leaving the frightened face behind.

“Wasn't that convention today?”

You sighed. “Yes.”

“Then why aren't you there?”

“Do I look like I want to be there?”

“Y/n! It's a great opportunity. You should-”

“A great opportunity for what, to be a laughingstock again?”

Yuna pursed her lips, looking almost pained that you would remember in that way the experience that was supposed to change your life. She had been one of the ones who had accompanied you to set up the booth and she was sure she had never seen you smile so much during all the time the two of you had known each other. Yuna was aware of how over time you seemed to have lost interest in this new convention, but she didn't think you would finally decide not to go.

On the sly, she had prepared your booth with the help of your mother and Sol, your boss.

“You were never a laughingstock! Don't say that,” Yuna patted your forearm harder than necessary. “Besides, I recently logged some purchases on the site! How do you-?”

“I know it was you and mom,” you raised your voice to interrupt her, stepping archly away from her body.

“What the… Of course not, ha, ha!”

“You're the only fools who would write down celebrity names to register purchases. Besides, the addresses don't even exist.”

“Fuck, I told her that wouldn't work.”

Under your heavy gaze, Yuna had the decency to look embarrassed.

“Okay, I'm sorry! We wanted to motivate you to go to the convention.”

“Can't you just let me do my own thing? If I don't want to go, I won't go.”

“Even if you leave Patrick waiting there?”

You followed his gaze, watching the man pull an umbrella out of the trunk of the car as the slightest breeze brushed against his body and the water droplets were smaller than a dew that the two of you had to squint to see them on the glass of the entrance.

“Whatever it is, I'm not going.”

“y/n…” Yuna pleaded, coming closer with her puppy dog eyes.

“No.”

“y/n, please…”

“No and stop doing that. You look weird.”

“I don't,” Yuna pulled away to frown at you. “I once heard you agreed with Seoyeon about my puppy face being cute.”

“I never agreed with that!”

“Seojun told me so!”

“Your first mistake is believing Seojun.”

“Do you blame me if the reason is your demonstration of love for me?”

“That was your second mistake.”

“Y/n!”

_____________________

That day you arrived home a little later than usual. Since Patrick had been waiting for you all day in the sun and mini rain and refused to let you take a cab on direct instructions from Sol, you asked him to take a ride downtown so you could buy the teokkboki your mom loved and incidentally bought some for him, even though he didn't want to accept it at first.

“y/n, dear, how did it go?”

Your parents were in the living room when you arrived playing Go. Your father left the table when he saw you carrying the bag of food and came over to take it from you.

“What does our little writer bring here, a contract by any chance?”

You watched out of the corner of your eye as your mother tried to get your father's attention by wildly waving her fan, while the man rummaged through the bag to find something warm and delicious smelling.

“Oh, it's teokkboki.”

Your mother stopped waving her arm to stare at the bag with sparkling eyes.

“The ones from the center? From Mrs. Wang?”

You nodded in her direction, taking a seat in their midst on the floor. Your parents started a pitched battle to see who would break the bag first to try the first batch of teokkboki and you could only watch them with a smile on your face. The day may have been difficult, but being home at the end of the day always made you feel so much better.

Amidst laughter and anecdotes, trying to avoid the elephant in the room because you knew your mother's furtive glances weren't for nothing, the three of you ate teokkboki until you were bursting at the seams. You organized the kitchen with your father while your mother grumbled from the living room whatever he said about her. You watched the three of you favorite soap opera on the fixed schedule and finally got ready for bed.

With your body more relaxed and lighter, you let yourself sink into the softness of the sheets, completely ignoring the messages Yuna had sent earlier and the stupid questions your brother asked at the most inopportune moments.

How do I unclog a bath?

Do I add salt to the rice???

Where do I get the kimchi mom makes?????

His independence was probably one of the worst things that could happen. You being the older sister thought you would leave home first. Even according to your twelve year old diary, you should have been married by then or at least planning your amazing, mega giant wedding, complete with helicopters and puppy dogs carrying drinks through the reception. You didn't know what kind of crazy dreams you had when you were younger, but up to that point you hadn't been able to fulfill any of your inner child's desires except to study for a career you were passionate about.

Still, what good had that done in the end? Maybe you should've listened to your grandparents to study medicine. Maybe your parents should've been a little more conservative instead of libertarian, which your grandparents always complained about when they had the chance. If you were a disgrace to anyone in the family, it was to them.

Ah, what a long day.

You didn't know at what point you fell asleep, but the incessant sound of your phone vibrating next to your pillow woke you up. With a grunt, you moved your hands to put the device in front of one of your half-open eyes to find Yuna on caller ID. Your eyes moved upward.

It was one in the morning!

“What the fuck are you doing calling at this hour? It better be an emergency because-”

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU DOING THAT YOU DON'T CHECK YOUR MESSAGES?”

“WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT? IT'S ONE IN THE MORNING! WHY WOULD I BE DOING ANYTHING ELSE BUT SLEEPING?”

“I'VE BEEN TEXTING YOU FOR A WHILE NOW, Y/N!”

“YUNA HOW CAN I NOT FUCKING SLEEP-?”

“Well, whatever!”

You let out an exasperated snort, giving her time to say what she had to say.

“You're going to fall on your ass.”

“I'm lying down.”

“Your books have sold a thousand copies in the last hour!”

Silence. Absorbing silence…

“Yuna, if you really woke me up to play a fucking prank on me I'm going all the way to your house to pull out every single one of your hairs with a fucking tweezer.”

“First of all, gross. Second of all, I'm not kidding! Get on your fucking Instagram! What's worse is that's not the most shocking news. Well… depends on how you look at it.”

“Yuna, I don't think I'm following you.”

“Fucking Kim Taehyung was at the reader convention and he took a picture of your books and UPLOADED IT TO HIS INSTAGRAM STORIES!!!!! AN HOUR AGO! The damn shopping notifications woke me up and I think I took too much time trying to process what was going on because they already tripled!”

“What the fuck are you talking about, did you start smoking weed?”

“Ugh, why are you so insufferable? Just look at fucking Instagram!”

You didn't want to believe Yuna, but a part of you was vibrating in anticipation. You'd already seen her text messages, her exclamations and voice notes, you'd barely processed the images she'd sent you. You logged on to Instagram. The first thing you noticed was the exorbitant amount of notifications and direct messages.

You had to search for Taehyung's account because you weren't following him.

There was the colorful arc around his profile picture. The story.

You clicked on his picture on the screen.

Your books were all over his story, with his hand holding one of them.

It jumped out at you that there was a stand of your books that you had no idea where it had come from.

A description loomed between the image.

One of the best fantasy books I've read in recent years. And by one of the best writers I've ever met in my life.

Your user was next to the description. You had no idea how fucking Kim Taehyung had gotten your user when it wasn't even something related to your name. You hadn't even uploaded pictures of yourself once in all the time that account had been open.

“Did you see it?? Can you see I wasn't lying?”

With Yuna's malevolent laughter in the background, you felt your mind escape into an unknown mental space.

“You're going to be rich!!! And I'm going to meet Kim Taehyung!”

Your mind was racing a thousand miles an hour trying to make sense of what your eyes couldn't credit. His story was replaying on your screen. So many things you could say and just…

“What the fuck?”

tag: @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos @pastelpeachess @parapiop7

#icymi #bts x reader #bts angst

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