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chimcess · 1 day ago

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⮞ Chapter One: Homecoming Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Other Tags: Hockey Player!Jungkook, Figure Skater!Reader, Hockey Player!Taehyung, Hockey Player!Jimin, Hockey Player!Namjoon, Hockey Player!Hoseok, Figure Skater!Jin, Coach!Yoongi Genre: Hockey!AU, Figure Skating!AU, Olympic!AU, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Self-Discovery, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn Word Count: 19.1k+ Summary: Y/N Y/L/N has always been destined for greatness as a competitive figure skater, her dreams of the Olympics sparkling like the ice beneath her blades. But when a devastating injury sidelines her, those dreams seem to melt away. Just when she feels lost, she unexpectedly meets Jeon Jungkook, a talented NHL hockey player. Warnings: Reader is injured and still using crutches, meet-cute reference to an unhealthy relationship with mom, absent father, parental issues, pining, low self-esteem, reader has anxiety, reader is very stressed out, honestly my girl is just exhausted, very pushy neighbors (but we love them for it), Taehyung is adopted, this is really just an introduction to everyone so not many warnings here... A/N: Happy New Year! Let's kick things off with a new massive series. This one will touch on very heavy topics such as toxic parents, mental health issues, and non-consensual touching. Please proceed with caution. New Chapters every month!

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I never used to think about what came next. Why would I? It felt pointless, like trying to guess the ending of a book while you were still tangled in the messy, middle chapters. Life just kept happening—fast, breathless, one page after another. And sometimes, if you were lucky, you got close to something that felt like a dream. So close you could almost taste it. But right when you reached for it? That’s when life reminded you—books close, lights go out, and suddenly, you’re right back where you started.

Normal? I wouldn’t know normal if it walked up and smacked me in the face. Normal was for people who wore stiff blazers and drank bad office coffee. My mornings started in the dark—lacing up my skates, the air so cold it bit at my skin. Stretch until it hurt. Practice until the moves weren’t moves anymore, just instinct. The rink smelled like sweat and frost and that sharp, unmistakable scent of wanting something too much. It clung to me.

That was my life. Until it wasn’t.

I don’t even remember learning how to skate. I just always had. The ice was the one place that made sense, the only place where my body and my brain felt like they belonged to the same person. My mom, Emily, saw it first. That spark in me. And once she saw it, she never let go. She didn’t just support me—she pushed. Hard. Like a storm rolling in, relentless and all-consuming. Maybe to her, that’s what love looked like.

People whispered about her. Said she was chasing her own lost dreams through me. Maybe she was. But I never resented her for it. Her ambition was like a fire—sometimes too hot, sometimes too much. But it kept me warm. Even when it burned.

She’d been a skater once, too. Until life happened. Until she got pregnant with me, married my dad, Jim, and let go of whatever dreams she had left. Some people move on. She never did. She carried that regret around like a weight, year after year, until all she had left was me. And the ice. I was her second chance.

She met Jim when she was still young and restless, and he was passing through town for police training. They fell in love, or at least, something close enough to it. Then I came along. A courthouse wedding, a move, a slow unraveling. Eventually, Emily and I left for Colorado—chasing the ice, chasing the dream. Jim stayed in Olympia, sinking into his routine until it swallowed him whole. I became the thing in between, stretched between my dad’s steady, distant world and my mom’s all-or-nothing drive.

Michigan wasn’t home anymore. Hadn’t been for years. But here I was.

The intercom crackled to life, yanking me out of my head.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. We’re beginning our descent into Detroit, where it’s currently five-eighteen p.m. and a frigid fifteen degrees Fahrenheit. Please secure your belongings.”

Fifteen degrees. Typical Michigan.

I stared out the window, my knee aching, a bitter little reminder. I was supposed to meet Dr. Jeon on Monday. People swore he was the best. But I already knew it didn’t matter. The moment my skate caught that rough patch of ice, when my body twisted and my world turned upside down—I knew.

It was over.

I could still see it, clear as a photograph: the rink bathed in pale afternoon light, Swan Lake drifting through the air. I wasn’t even competing, just skating for the sake of skating. My mom and my coach sat in the stands, talking about my next routine. I picked up speed, heading into a fan spiral—when it happened. My blade caught. My leg gave out. I went down hard.

The plane’s landing gear hit the tarmac with a screech, shaking the memory loose. My heart pounded. I gripped the armrest, swallowing against the lump in my throat.

Passengers stood, jostling for overhead bags, but I stayed put. No point in rushing. My crutches were cold in my hands, awkward, unfamiliar. A few months ago, I could glide across the ice like I belonged there. And now? Now I could barely walk through an airport without feeling like I might tip over.

At baggage claim, I stared at the conveyor belt, watching suitcases circle like they had all the time in the world. My hands were full. My leg was useless.

"You need a hand?"

The voice came out of nowhere. I flinched, turning too fast, and there he was—tall, brown-eyed, and looking at me like he could see straight through all my carefully constructed defenses. Before I could respond, someone bumped into me, and my crutch slipped from my grip, clattering against the floor.

I wobbled, reaching out for something—anything—to steady myself. But he was faster. His hands caught my arms, firm but gentle, like he’d done this before. Like he knew exactly how to keep someone from falling.

For a second, the world around us—the airport, the noise, the blur of people—just stopped.

"You okay?" His voice was warm, steady, like it belonged to someone who never panicked.

I nodded quickly, my face heating. "Yeah. Fine." A lie, probably. But what else was I supposed to say? No, actually, I’m currently living my worst nightmare, thanks for asking?

He let go slowly, like he was making sure I wouldn’t tip over again, and bent down to grab my crutch. When he handed it back, his eyes lingered—not with pity, but something else. Something softer.

"Thanks," I muttered, gripping the crutch tighter than necessary.

He smiled—easy, unbothered. "No problem." But there was something behind it, like maybe he had more to say.

The airport rushed back to life around us. People zigzagging past, voices bouncing off the high ceilings, the endless hum of somewhere-to-be energy. But for just a moment, it still felt like we were in a separate, quieter place.

He glanced at the mess of luggage by my feet. "Need help with your bags?"

My pride answered before logic could. "I’ve got it."

Which was a bold thing to say, considering I clearly did not have it. My knee throbbed, like it was rolling its metaphorical eyes at me.

But he didn’t argue. Just shrugged, like it was all the same to him. "Alright. But it’s no trouble if you change your mind."

I shifted my weight, felt the sharp twinge, and sighed. "Okay, yeah. I could use some help."

The words tasted weird in my mouth. He didn’t seem to notice. He just grabbed my suitcase like it weighed nothing, balancing my smaller bag on top.

"Someone picking you up?" he asked as we made our way toward the sliding glass doors, where the cold Michigan air lurked like a villain in a horror movie.

"Nope. Just grabbing a cab," I said, weaving through the crowd. But I was aware of him next to me, solid and steady, like an anchor I hadn’t realized I needed.

"I’ve got my car in the overnight lot," he said, so casually it almost sounded like a throwaway offer. "I could give you a ride."

I hesitated. Too fast. "No, it’s okay," I said, maybe a little too quick, a little too sharp.

Something flickered across his face—disappointment? Or was I just imagining it?

We stepped outside, and the cold hit. Hard. I sucked in a sharp breath, my fingers instantly regretting every life choice that led to me not bringing gloves.

He noticed. His mouth twitched into a knowing smile. "Forgot what Michigan feels like in January?"

"Yeah," I muttered, hugging my coat closer. "Something like that."

I should be used to it. I grew up on ice, for God’s sake. But this cold felt different. It wasn’t just outside—it was creeping in, settling deep, gnawing at something raw.

"So, where were you before this?" he asked, breath curling into the air like smoke.

"Nevada. Before that, Colorado. We moved around a lot." I didn’t even know why I was telling him this. I didn’t even know him.

"We?" He raised an eyebrow, like he already knew the answer but wanted me to say it anyway.

"Me and my mom," I said, my voice quieter now. "She’s not really the ‘stay in one place’ type."

He nodded, like that made perfect sense. "A modern-day nomad. Sounds... exhausting."

I let out a small laugh, more reflex than anything. "Yeah. It can be."

And maybe it was just the exhaustion, or the cold, or the fact that he felt easy to talk to, but this whole conversation was starting to feel less strange. Less like a fleeting airport moment and more like something solid.

"You staying here for a while?" he asked, his dark eyes locking with mine, the cold suddenly not as noticeable.

"For the foreseeable future," I said, surprising myself with how easily it came out.

"Good to know." His voice softened, like it was some kind of inside joke I didn’t know we were sharing yet. And that crooked smile? Yeah. Dangerous.

My pulse did something stupid.

What was I even doing? Standing here, flirting with a stranger in the dead of winter? This wasn’t real life—this was the kind of thing that only happened in bad rom-coms and half-formed daydreams. But with him, it felt real. Too real.

"Maybe I’ll see you around," he said, running a hand through his hair, which—of course—fell back into place in that perfectly messy, I-don’t-care-but-I-do way.

"Yeah, maybe," I said, even though I wasn’t sure I believed it.

"You live nearby?"

I should already be in a cab. I should be out of this cold, heading toward whatever was left of my life. But instead, I was still standing here, asking questions I had no business asking.

"Detroit," he said, his breath hanging in the air like something unfinished.

"Me too," I blurted out. "Just moved there, actually."

"Downtown?" He asked it like my answer mattered more than it should.

"Royal Oak," I said. "The old houses there... they’re beautiful."

"They are," he agreed, and there was something in the way he said it, like he was noticing things about me I didn’t even realize I was showing. His gaze flicked from my eyes to my lips, and for a second, the space between us felt smaller, thinner, like something was about to snap.

Then the wind did it for us, slicing between us like a blade.

"Welcome to Michigan," he said, laughing, his voice warm against the cold.

And then, before I could react, before I could process anything, he reached down and took my bare hands in his.

His hands were warm. Too warm. Like touching them had flipped some hidden switch inside me.

I felt it. Everywhere.

For a second, I swore the ground shifted.

"We should get you a cab," he said, glancing down at my frozen fingers, his expression softer now. "You’re not exactly dressed for this weather."

"Yeah, I probably should’ve planned better," I admitted with a laugh, but I was barely paying attention to the cold anymore. Just the heat from his hands, the way they made everything else feel less cold.

He waved down a cab like he’d done it a hundred times before, easy and effortless. I stood there, watching as he loaded my bags into the trunk, every movement feeling like a countdown. And then, when he pulled open the door for me, I just... stood there.

At the edge of the moment. Caught between stepping forward and holding still. Between leaving and staying.

“Thanks for the help,” I said, looking up at him, my heart knocking against my ribs.

“Jungkook,” he said, soft, like he was handing me something delicate. His smile was still there, tugging at the corner of his mouth like he wasn’t ready to let it go just yet. “I’m Jungkook.”

“Y/N,” I replied, my own name slipping out so easily, like it had been waiting to be said here, in this exact moment, in this freezing air between us.

He repeated it—slowly, like he was trying it on. Like it was something worth holding in his mouth for a second longer. “Y/N,” he said again, quieter this time. And then he leaned in, just a little, like he was about to tell me a secret.

And suddenly, everything else—the cold, the noise, the rush of people around us—blurred out. It was just him, standing too close, that crooked grin making me wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the end of whatever this was.

“Yeah, Jungkook?” I asked, my breath hitching, anticipation curling in my stomach.

“My friends and I... we go to this bar on Grand most Tuesdays. Bronx?” He said it like a casual suggestion, but it wasn’t casual. It was a bridge. A next step. “Maybe I’ll see you there sometime?”

A thrill shot through me—quick and unexpected. He wanted to see me again.

“Yeah,” I stammered, trying to sound normal, trying to sound like my pulse wasn’t suddenly in my throat. “I could swing by. Once I’m settled in.”

“Great.” His whole face lit up, and it was like watching a door crack open, just enough to glimpse something softer behind it. "I’ll see you around then, Y/N."

And just like that, he stepped back, shut the door behind me, and the moment ended.

The cab pulled away, and I turned, craning for one last look. He was still standing there, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, watching me go. When he caught my gaze, he waved, easy and casual, like this whole thing hadn’t just knocked the wind out of me. I lifted my hand in return, but my chest was still tight, my heart still racing.

I slumped back against the seat, pressing my forehead to the cold window, hoping the chill would slow my thoughts down. Because now that I was alone, the doubts started creeping in. The what-ifs.

Would I actually show up at Bronx? Or would I do what I always did—let the moment fade, tell myself it wasn’t real, convince myself it was just a weird, fleeting connection that didn’t actually mean anything?

But then I thought about him. About that lopsided smile. The way he said my name like it was something worth remembering. And for the first time in a long time, I let myself wonder...

What if?

It was a little past seven when the cab finally rolled to a stop in front of my new apartment building. The sky had darkened into that deep, bruised purple, the kind that makes the world feel just a little heavier. The cold hit me full force as I climbed out, my crutches clattering against the pavement.

I was so tired. That kind of exhaustion that settles into your bones, heavy and unshakable.

The doorman noticed immediately—a grizzled guy with kind eyes and the weary patience of someone who had seen a lot of people start over. He moved toward me with the kind of practiced ease that made it clear he had done this before. Watched people show up with too many bags and too many hopes. Watched them leave, sometimes with less of both.

Without a word, he took my luggage, leading me toward the elevator like it was second nature.

Apartment 311 smelled like fresh paint and nothing else. The kind of emptiness that didn’t just sit in the air—it echoed. My footsteps bounced off the bare walls, and for a second, it felt like I was in a storage unit, not a home. No couch. No bed. Just a hollow space waiting to be filled with something real.

I let out a long breath. The cold inside the apartment was different from the cold outside—sharper, lonelier. Like even the air hadn’t settled in yet.

I pulled out my phone and ordered a pizza. Pepperoni and mushrooms, with a side of breadsticks. It felt like a stupidly normal thing to do, like maybe if I just ordered dinner, it would trick my brain into thinking everything was fine. That this wasn’t weird. That I wasn’t standing in the middle of an empty apartment with nothing but a suitcase and a sinking feeling in my stomach.

By the time I hung up, the ache in my chest had settled in for the night. This was real. No backing out now.

I called Emily.

Her voice was a mix of relief and tension, like she wanted to be happy I’d made it but also wanted to remind me that I had things to do. That I had to get back to training. That I couldn’t just pause. But I was pausing. I was standing in an apartment with no furniture, staring at the ceiling like it might have answers. And I just... couldn’t deal with it right now.

After a few strained minutes, I made an excuse and hung up. The silence rushed back in, filling the space like water, drowning out everything else.

I wandered through the empty rooms, my fingers grazing the white walls. The place felt sterile, like a waiting room for a life I hadn’t started living yet. Outside, the city buzzed—car horns, laughter, people moving through their lives like they knew exactly where they were going. I pressed my forehead to the window, watching them pass. Families. Students. Dog walkers. Everyone seemed to belong to something. To someone.

And me? I felt like a glitch in the system. Like I’d been dropped into the wrong life by accident.

Jungkook’s face flashed in my mind. The way he’d said my name, like it meant something. Like maybe I wasn’t as lost as I felt. I let myself picture it—walking into Bronx on a Tuesday night, catching sight of that crooked grin. It was just a thought, a little flicker of something warm. But I wasn’t ready to let it go just yet.

The apartment was still too empty, but at least tomorrow there’d be furniture. A couch. Shelves. A coffee table, maybe. The kind of things that made a place feel real.

But the real gem of the apartment wasn’t the kitchen or the big windows. It was the alcove by the entrance—a tiny nook with a built-in window seat, framed by bookshelves. A little space that felt hidden from the rest of the world. I could already imagine curling up there on winter nights, listening to the snow tap against the glass. And for the first time since I got here, I could almost picture it—this place turning into something more than just four walls and an address.

A knock at the door snapped me out of it.

I hobbled over, stomach growling. Pizza. Finally.

But when I pulled open the door, it wasn’t the delivery guy.

It was a girl. Petite, but somehow larger than life, dressed in a black knit sweater dress and a sequined mini that shimmered in the dim hallway light. Her hair was buzzed short, dark and soft-looking, and she had cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. But it was her eyes that stopped me—deep brown, warm, familiar.

They reminded me of him.

“Hey!” she chirped, like we were old friends. “I’m Mina. I live in 312. The pizza guy accidentally brought your order to us, so I figured I’d bring it over and say hi.”

I blinked at her. Processing.

“Thanks,” I said finally, shifting on my crutches. “Would you mind setting it in the kitchen? I’m a little... restricted.”

“Of course!” Mina breezed past me like she’d lived here her whole life, her boots clicking against the hardwood. She set the pizza down and turned back, eyes bright with curiosity. “So... what happened?” She gestured at the crutches.

“Sports injury,” I said, keeping it vague. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. Just not the whole truth.

Mina nodded like that was good enough. “Well, I hope you’re healing okay. Must be rough, moving in while dealing with all that.”

“Yeah,” I said, relieved when she didn’t press. “Thanks again for bringing the pizza.”

“No problem! Consider it a ‘Welcome to the Building’ gift.” She grinned, then suddenly froze, her eyes going wide.

“Wait... you don’t have any furniture, do you?”

I sighed. “I’ll figure something out. It’s just one night.”

Mina looked personally offended by this information. Then, before I could stop her, she scooped up the pizza box and waltzed right back out the door.

I just stood there. Staring. Processing.

Did she really just take my dinner?

With a groan, I grabbed my bag and pulled out fleece pants, a tank top, and my track jacket. Changed. Gathered up my toothbrush, phone, and keys. Then, still half-stunned, I hobbled down the hall to apartment 312.

I knocked, my heart pounding for no good reason.

The door creaked open, but it wasn’t Mina standing there.

It was a tall blonde woman—striking in that effortless kind of way, like she had never tripped over a curb in her life. She had long, golden hair that fell like silk, sharp dark eyebrows, and deep brown eyes that were almost black. Where Mina crackled with chaotic energy, this woman felt like still water. Collected. Unshakable. The kind of person who didn’t need to prove anything to anyone.

“Hey, come on in,” she said, her voice low and a little raspy. “Mina said you’d be staying with us tonight.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, stepping inside, feeling weirdly self-conscious. “I don’t want to impose—”

“Nonsense,” she said, waving a hand like my words were actual garbage. “Once Mina decides something, there’s no point arguing. You might as well accept your fate.”

Before I could respond, Mina barreled into the room, now in yoga pants and a t-shirt that looked like it had been washed a thousand times.

“I knew you’d come!” she declared, triumphant.

“Well, you didn’t give me much of a choice,” I said, trying for casual, even though my chest still felt tight. “You did steal my dinner.”

“See? It worked!” Mina grinned, entirely unrepentant. “Trust me, this is way better than eating alone in an empty apartment. You’re smart for coming over.” She paused, eyes widening like she had just remembered something vital. “Oh my God, I didn’t even ask your name. I get so carried away sometimes.”

“Y/N,” I said. “Y/L/N.”

“Welcome, Y/N,” the blonde said, leading me toward the kitchen. “I’m Leera, but you can call me Lucy if you want. And don’t worry—you’ll get used to Mina’s... enthusiasm.”

The apartment was warm and lived-in, a contrast to my own echoing space. I caught sight of the pizza box Mina had stolen—but there were three more stacked on the counter, the air thick with the smell of melted cheese and garlic.

“What’s with all the pizza?” I asked, glancing between them.

“We ordered some too,” Mina said, flipping open a box like a game show host revealing a grand prize. “They just happened to show up at the same time. Fate, obviously.”

Lucy pulled my bottle of Diet Coke out of the fridge and held it up. “Want some ice?” she asked, like she already knew the answer.

“Yeah,” I said. And just like that, I felt some of the tension in my shoulders ease.

It didn’t take long to figure out that Mina and Lucy were more than just roommates. Mina was an event planner—weddings, galas, parties—which made so much sense. Her whole vibe was confetti and last-minute ideas and carrying three coffees at once. Her family was originally from Wisconsin, though her great-grandparents had immigrated from Korea. Lucy, on the other hand, was her exact opposite. She worked in classic car restoration, which honestly stunned me. She had the kind of delicate, elegant energy that made me assume she spent her time doing something refined, like designing couture dresses or sipping espresso in a minimalist art studio. But no, she rebuilt engines. She smelled like vanilla and motor oil.

“Most people don’t believe me when I tell them,” she said, smirking as she popped open a can of sparkling water. “But I love it. It’s in my blood.”

Mina and Lucy weren’t just best friends—they were family, their lives so tightly woven together it was hard to tell where one story ended and the other began. Mina was engaged to Lucy’s brother, and Lucy was dating one of Mina’s. It was the kind of connection that felt inevitable, like the universe had put them in the same orbit on purpose. Every time Mina mentioned her fiancé, Jimin, or Lucy talked about her boyfriend, Taehyung, their expressions softened, like even thinking about them made the world a little warmer.

And somehow, I was here too. Sitting at their kitchen island, laughing, eating stolen pizza like I belonged.

By the time I glanced at the clock, it was past eleven.

Somehow, what was supposed to be a couple of awkward hours had turned into something else entirely—something easy. Something that felt suspiciously like belonging.

“Get used to late nights,” Lucy teased, nudging me with her elbow. “Being our friend means you have to be a night owl.”

Friends?

I wasn’t sure the last time I’d used it to describe myself. Maybe never.

Growing up, there wasn’t space for friends. Emily and my coaches made sure of that. My life had been structured and scheduled within an inch of its existence—early mornings, late nights, a constant push toward something bigger, something better. And at some point, I had started pulling away from people before they had the chance to do it first.

But Mina and Lucy? They weren’t waiting for me to prove anything. They weren’t measuring my worth by what I’d achieved.

They just saw me.

And that was almost scarier than being alone.

“So, Y/N,” Mina said, shattering the comfortable silence. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“Big day,” I admitted, exhaustion creeping in. “My furniture’s arriving, plus all my stuff from Nevada. I need to grab groceries. Thought about picking out paint colors, but that might be too ambitious.”

Mina’s face lit up like I’d just invited her to an amusement park. “Need help? I’m free tomorrow. And I’m ridiculously efficient. We’ll knock it all out in no time.” She gestured toward my crutches with a cheeky grin. “Especially since you’re a little limited.”

I hesitated. I wasn’t used to accepting help. But Mina had this way of making it seem like it would be more work to say no.

“That would be great,” I admitted. “Thanks.”

Lucy shot me a knowing look from where she stood by the sink. “Just don’t let her bulldoze you. Once she gets going, she’s unstoppable. Your place will look like a West Elm catalog before you even blink.”

Mina gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’m just trying to help her create a cozy space. Is that so wrong?”

“I’m just giving her fair warning,” Lucy said, eyes glinting. “You’re in for the full Mina experience.”

I yawned before I could stop myself. Mina noticed immediately.

“Go freshen up,” she said, waving me toward the bathroom. “I’ll set up the couch for you.”

I shuffled off, grateful for the moment alone. As I brushed my teeth and splashed cool water on my face, I felt the weight of the night settle in. When I returned, the couch had been transformed into a nest of blankets and pillows—so much cozier than the cold, empty apartment I’d left behind.

“Thanks, guys,” I said, sinking into my makeshift bed. “This is way better than crashing on a pile of sweatshirts.”

Lucy grinned as she wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “I’ll swing by around four tomorrow, just in time to rescue you from Mina’s overzealous decorating spree.”

“I’ll need it,” I said, throwing Mina a smirk.

Mina gasped, deeply offended. “You’ll love every second of it. Actually, I’ll call the guys and see if they can help with the heavy lifting this weekend. They’ve got a game in Anaheim on Friday, but they should be free after that.”

“Game?” I asked, frowning.

Mina blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Jimin, Taehyung, and my other brother—they play for the Michigan Red Wings.”

The name rang a bell, but faintly. Like a half-remembered dream.

“Should I know what that means?”

Lucy smirked. “NHL, Y/N. They’re professional hockey players.”

“Oh,” I said. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but that wasn’t it. Hockey wasn’t really on my radar. The only time I even thought about it was when Emily complained about hockey players hogging ice time.

“We’ll have to take you to a game,” Mina said, already vibrating with excitement. “They’re mid-season, and the team’s so good right now.”

“Mina, you say that every year,” Lucy said, rolling her eyes.

Mina grinned. “Because every year, it’s true! Even if they weren’t good, it’s still fun. The speed, the energy…” She trailed off, lost in her own little hockey world.

I laughed, but something about all of this—this easy, effortless warmth—felt almost too good to be real. Like I’d borrowed someone else’s life for the night.

“Mina,” I said, nudging her. “You do realize two of those players are your brothers, right?”

She made a face. “Obviously, Y/N. I’m not checking them out. But let’s be real—they’re objectively attractive. And if you happen to take an interest, there’s plenty of other man candy on the team.”

Lucy chuckled. “She’s not wrong. Her brothers are hot. Not that I’m looking—Taehyung is more than enough—but Jungkook? Yeah, he’s got the looks.”

Jungkook.

The name hit me like a bucket of ice water.

Could it be my Jungkook?

My brain raced back to the airport. The luggage, the easy smile, the way he had helped me like it was nothing. That Jungkook had just been… a random act of kindness. A nice stranger.

…Right?

I felt ridiculous for even thinking it. For even considering the possibility.

My Jungkook?

We’d spoken for maybe fifteen minutes, and I was already putting a claim on him. Maybe I was going crazy.

“He hasn’t dated anyone since he and Sky broke up last year,” Leera said casually, like she was commenting on the weather. “Kind of a waste. A guy like that shouldn’t stay single for long.”

Mina nodded, but there was something a little sharper in the set of her jaw. “Jungkook’s not the type to jump from girl to girl. He’s waiting for the right one, and when he finds her, he’ll know.”

Leera smirked. “Well, that’s not stopping half of Detroit. Pretty sure every girl in the city knows he’s single.”

Mina groaned, flopping back against the couch cushions. “Don’t even get me started on the rink rats. If I have to witness one more girl trying to sneak into the locker room, I might actually lose my mind.”

I laughed, sinking deeper into my pile of pillows. “Noted. I’ll make sure to stay on your good side.”

Mina pointed at me, all faux-seriousness. “Good call.” Then, with a sigh, she added, “I just hate it. Those girls don’t care about hockey—they don’t even like hockey. They just want the bragging rights.”

I nodded, watching the way her protectiveness settled over her like armor. She wasn’t just defending Jungkook. She was looking out for all of them. Her brothers, her family.

“Well,” I said, meaning it, “they’re lucky to have you watching their backs.”

Mina’s lips quirked up like she wanted to argue, but instead, she just said, “Goodnight, Y/N.” She was already halfway down the hall when she called over her shoulder, “Yell if you need anything.”

Leera lingered, watching me for a beat longer. “You good?”

“Yeah,” I said, exhaling, feeling the weight of the day settle over me in the best way. “Thanks again. I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

“Don’t mention it.” Leera’s voice was soft, knowing. “I’m up early for work, so sorry if I wake you.”

I waved her off. “I’m used to early mornings.” Too many years of predawn practices had made sure of that.

Leera just nodded, still smiling, before disappearing down the hall.

I sank deeper into the blankets, warmth curling around me like a secret. My body felt heavy, like it had finally gotten permission to stop holding itself together. My eyes fluttered shut, and I didn’t even hear Leera’s door close.

That night, I dreamt of chocolate-brown eyes and tousled black hair.

I woke up the same way I had for the past eight weeks—with my knee throbbing like it had a personal vendetta against me.

I didn’t even have to open my eyes to know today was going to suck. The dull ache had settled in overnight, but now, thanks to yesterday’s cramped plane ride, it had sharpened into something meaner. I pulled my leg toward my chest, stretching carefully, trying to loosen the stiffness. Moving boxes and setting up furniture? Yeah, that was going to be so much fun. Looked like the painkillers would have to make an appearance.

After a few more stretches, the ache dulled to something that felt less like a knife and more like a bruise, and I finally cracked my eyes open. The room was still wrapped in that early-morning darkness, the kind that sits heavy over Michigan in the winter, refusing to budge. I reached for my phone. 5:48 A.M. The apartment was silent except for the soft hum of the radiator trying—and failing—to make the place feel less like an icebox.

I wasn’t going back to sleep, but I also didn’t feel like getting up yet. So I stayed where I was, curled up on Mina’s obnoxiously comfortable couch, staring at the ceiling.

Yesterday came back in pieces. Mina and Leera. The unexpected invitation. And, of course, Jungkook.

Just thinking about him sent an embarrassing little jolt through me, which was so stupid. It wasn’t like I’d never seen an attractive guy before. But Jungkook wasn’t just attractive. He was the kind of good-looking that made you blink twice. The kind that made your brain short-circuit for a second while you tried to process if someone could actually look like that.

Okay. Fine. So he was hot. That didn’t mean anything. I’d talked to him for maybe fifteen minutes. That wasn’t life-changing. That wasn’t even significant.

Except… my body had noticed him in a way it never really noticed anyone. Heart pounding. Skin tingling. That stupid, unsteady feeling like I’d just stepped onto a rink without my skates tied properly. That was significant.

I sighed, scrubbing a hand over my face. It didn’t matter. Even if, by some ridiculous stretch of the imagination, Jungkook was interested, what would I even do about it? Relationships, dating, flirting—those were all foreign languages to me. My parents had been a masterclass in what not to do. My dad stayed, but only in the financial sense. And Emily? Her version of love came with conditions. Perform well, and you got a rare “good job.” Fail, and… well.

I didn’t know how to do affection. It had always felt awkward, like a sweater that didn’t quite fit. Hugs? Hand-holding? Kissing? Yeah, no. Just thinking about it made my pulse do something weird.

I needed to stop. My life wasn’t some tragic sob story. So my childhood had more training schedules than sleepovers—big deal. I had what I needed. Time to move on.

With a groan, I pushed myself upright, my knee protesting the movement. Enough self-pity. Caffeine. I needed caffeine.

The apartment was still dark and silent as I shuffled into the kitchen. I hesitated before opening any cabinets—rummaging through someone else’s stuff before sunrise felt like a weird level of intrusive—so I settled for finishing off the last of my soda from last night. The cold fizz helped a little, at least enough to push through the haze of sleep deprivation.

The microwave clock blinked 6:04 A.M. Mina didn’t seem like the early riser type. No point in waiting around. I could head back to my place, shower, stretch like the doctor said to, and get my life somewhat together.

By 8:30, I felt almost human again. The stretches had helped, the painkillers had kicked in, and I’d even managed to scribble out a to-do list. Groceries. Figuring out where my limited furniture should go. Maybe pretending I had any idea how to decorate an apartment.

Mina knocked just as I was finishing up, looking far too awake for this hour and shoving a cup of coffee into my hands like a peace offering. “Morning! Ready for some fun?”

I took the coffee, eyeing her suspiciously. “You’re a morning person, aren’t you?”

She grinned. “I’m an all-the-time person. You’ll get used to it. So, what’s the plan?”

“The furniture’s supposed to be here at nine.” I handed her my list. “After that, I figured we could set things up, then go grab the essentials.”

Mina scanned the list and nodded. “Super Target it is. We’ll knock this out fast.”

While we waited, she plopped onto the floor with a notebook and started sketching out a floor plan—like, a legitimate floor plan—complete with little boxes for furniture and arrows for “optimal flow.” She rattled on about color schemes and accent pieces like we were designing a magazine spread.

I just nodded along, knowing I was going to have to veto at least half of it. The eight matching throw pillows? Absolutely not.

When the movers showed up, Mina shifted into full drill-sergeant mode, directing the poor guys with a terrifying level of efficiency. The second they left, another truck pulled up with my boxes from Nevada.

For once, something in my life was actually going smoothly.

Mina eyed my stack of boxes like she was waiting for the rest of them to show up.

“That’s it?” she asked, incredulous.

“Yep. I travel light.”

She frowned, like the concept physically pained her. “Y/N, half of these are labeled Books. How do you not have more stuff?”

I shrugged. “Less stuff, less hassle.”

Mina let out the kind of sigh that people reserved for lost causes. “Minimalist doesn’t even begin to cover it. Taehyung’s old dorm room had more personality than this place.”

I smirked. “I can see the wheels turning in your head. But let’s focus on getting toilet paper first before we start worrying about ‘spicing up’ my apartment.”

“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “But we will revisit this. I’m not letting you live in a place that looks like a bachelor pad.”

“You’ve known me for fifteen hours,” I pointed out.

“And just imagine what it’ll be like in a couple of weeks,” she grinned wickedly. “I won’t hold back then.”

“This is you holding back?” I teased. “You’re kind of terrifying.”

“In the best way,” she said, completely unfazed. “Now, ready to hit the store?”

“Let’s go,” I said, grabbing my list. “But I don’t have my car yet—it’s still at the dealership.”

“Good thing I’m your chauffeur for the day!” she declared, already heading for the door with the kind of enthusiasm that made me feel like I was being drafted into something. I sighed, but I couldn’t help smiling as I followed her. Life with Mina, I was quickly learning, was never going to be boring.

“No worries,” she added, whipping out her phone with the speed of someone who always had a plan. “I’ll call Jimin and see if we can borrow his truck.”

A quick call later, we were off—Mina behind the wheel of her bright yellow Porsche, driving like she had a personal vendetta against speed limits. The engine roared as she weaved in and out of traffic with terrifying precision. I gripped the door handle, silently promising to live a better life if we made it out of this drive alive.

By the time we pulled up to Jimin’s place—miraculously in one piece—I had officially retired from being a passenger in Mina’s car. We swapped vehicles, and before I knew it, we were barrelling down the road in Jimin’s truck, off to tackle what would soon become the longest shopping trip of my life.

Two hours later, I had come to two conclusions:

One—I would never, under any circumstances, voluntarily shop with Mina again.

Two—I actually liked her. A lot.

She was everything I wasn’t—loud where I was quiet, confident where I hesitated, effortlessly stylish while I stuck to jeans and sneakers. And yet, somehow, she just clicked with me. Maybe it was her relentless energy, or maybe it was because she bulldozed past the walls I hadn’t even realized I’d built.

As we wheeled our overloaded carts to the truck, I glanced at my phone. Just past noon, and I was already exhausted.

“I’m telling you, Y/N,” Mina said, tossing bags into the truck bed like she was throwing confetti, “those shirts were a necessity. When you find one that looks that good, you have to buy it in every color.”

I smirked, shaking my head. Somewhere between arguing over which brand of dish soap smelled less like a hospital and Mina sneakily adding things to the cart, I had realized something horrifying.

Mina could talk me into just about anything.

And there it was—three identical Converse button-ups in different colors. Cute? Yes. Necessary? Not even a little.

“I’m not sure how you did it,” I said, giving her a sideways look, “but somehow, you got me to buy three of the same shirt. You’re dangerous.”

Mina grinned, completely unapologetic. “You’ll thank me later when you’re rocking those shirts.”

I sighed, shaking my head in mock defeat. “Fine. The shirts are cute. But can we find food now? The gimp needs to recharge.”

Mina laughed, slamming the tailgate shut. “How do you feel about Korean? There’s a great place on the way back.”

“Perfect,” I said, already dreaming about a meal that didn’t involve protein bars or sad, airport vending machine snacks.

On the drive back, Mina launched into a full-on campaign about how we needed to recruit Jimin to help paint my apartment. She was convinced the walls needed a fresh coat before anything else could happen.

I argued. She countered. I pouted.

She finally caved. Victory.

For now.

Once we got back, we hauled everything inside, dumping the grocery bags onto the kitchen counter in a completely unorganized mess. We shoved the cold stuff into the fridge in a way that would probably horrify any reasonable adult, then collapsed onto the couch with greasy containers of food.

As I hobbled over with my takeout, my crutches snagged on the coffee table, making me stumble.

Not once.

Not twice.

Three times.

Each time, Mina gave me a look that was somewhere between amused and mildly concerned.

“You okay there, Y/N?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

I sighed dramatically. “I am so ready to be done with these crutches.”

Navigating life on two feet was hard enough. With crutches? It was like trying to cross a balance beam in roller skates. The countdown to my next doctor’s appointment was on.

After lunch, Mina got lost in a wedding magazine she’d picked up from the mail, which left me with a rare moment of peace. I stretched out on the couch, my mind finally allowed to wander.

And, of course, it wandered right back to him.

Jungkook.

I didn’t know much about him—barely more than his first name—and yet here I was, thinking about him like a teenager with a crush. Which was ridiculous. But also undeniable.

He was absurdly good-looking. The kind of guy you noticed in a room. And for some reason, I couldn’t shake him.

Bronx. Tuesday nights. Five days from now.

Could I actually work up the nerve to go?

Part of me wanted to. Just to see him again. To feel that weird, electric thing that had sparked between us at the airport.

But another part of me—the part that had spent years keeping people at a safe distance—was already coming up with excuses.

Maybe he was just being nice.

Maybe Bronx was just a casual recommendation, not an invitation.

But then why mention Tuesday?

The uncertainty gnawed at me.

I sighed, half-wishing life was as simple as those old country songs—Do you like me? Check yes or no.

But it wasn’t that easy, was it?

Before I could spiral any further into my overthinking, Mina’s phone went off—a series of high-pitched squeals that could only mean one thing: bridal emergency.

She groaned, already getting to her feet, phone pressed to her ear before she was even fully upright. “Promise me you won’t touch anything while I’m gone,” she said, pointing at me like I was the kind of person who might start unpacking just to be difficult. “Lucy and I will help you sort everything later.”

I held up my hands in surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Satisfied, she turned on her heel and disappeared out the door, already deep in crisis management mode.

For once, I didn’t fight it. I wasn’t about to wrestle with the mountain of bags and boxes on my own. Instead, I let myself sink deeper into the couch, the cushions swallowing me whole. I popped in my earbuds and let my iPod shuffle through songs, the familiar hum of music settling over me like a blanket.

And before I knew it, I was out.

I managed to avoid Mina for two whole days, using jet lag and my aching knee as perfect excuses to dodge any heavy lifting. But, of course, Saturday morning came, and so did she—armed with coffee, muffins, and an all-important battle plan. Today, she declared, was Divine Design Day, and reinforcements were on their way. Jimin and Taehyung were due to arrive at 10:00 AM sharp to help paint and set up the loft. I groaned inwardly at the thought of another long day of projects, but I couldn’t help but feel a little curious about the guys Mina and Lucy had been raving about.

Apparently, Mina had tried to recruit her brother Jungkook too, but he was busy spending the day with the team doctor after taking a nasty hit during last night’s game. I’d heard Mina and Lucy screaming from across the hall—wild cheers when the game went well, furious shouts when the refs blew a call. They’d invited me to watch, but I’d opted for a quiet evening with a book instead. After hearing their passionate recap, though, I made a mental note to join them next time. It sounded like it was quite the spectacle.

“Let’s move it, Y/N,” Mina clapped her hands, already pushing me toward the door. “We need to hit Home Depot for paint before the guys crawl out of bed.”

I dragged myself along, grumbling as I grabbed my coat, purse, and crutches. “Isn’t Lucy coming with us?”

“She threatened to spike my coffee if I woke her before nine,” Mina laughed. “She’ll catch up when we get back.”

“Just don’t go overboard, okay? I don’t need my apartment looking like it belongs on the cover of Better Homes & Gardens.”

“You’re no fun,” Mina pouted, but then a mischievous grin spread across her face. “Okay, fine, how about this: you get veto power, but I promise you won’t need it.”

“Deal,” I sighed, knowing full well this was as good as it was going to get.

We took Lucy’s BMW since it had more trunk space than Mina’s Porsche—which, considering how much Mina shopped, made me wonder why she even owned a sports car in the first place. As I buckled in, I was reminded that I still hadn’t picked up my own car from the dealership.

“You know, I really should get my car sometime,” I muttered as I adjusted my seatbelt.

“Not a chance,” Mina scoffed. “You’re not driving anywhere with those crutches.”

“Well, I’m hoping to be rid of them after my appointment on Monday. I’ve got a new doctor, Dr. Jeon.”

Mina’s eyes lit up. “Dr. Jeon? That’s my dad! I can’t believe I didn’t mention my last name was Jeon.”

“Small world,” I muttered, still processing. “So, your dad’s my new doctor?”

“Yep! And trust me, you’re in the best hands. He’s patched up half the hockey players in Michigan.”

Home Depot was its usual chaos, but Mina, ever the drill sergeant of design, had the entire trip organized to perfection. Armed with measurements, color swatches, and detailed diagrams, she had us in and out in under an hour. The fact that she could pull that off while also looking like she belonged in a magazine made me half-wonder if she secretly had superpowers.

For the first time that morning, I felt a spark of excitement—seeing my empty, bare-walled loft finally coming to life didn’t seem so bad after all.

When we pulled up to the building, Jimin’s truck and a rugged-looking Jeep were already parked out front.

“Right on time,” Mina said, grabbing her phone. “I’ll call the guys and have them unload everything. And don’t even think about protesting, Y/N.”

“I wasn’t going to,” I said, raising my hands in mock surrender.

“No, but I know you hate asking for help,” Mina added sweetly, though there was no arguing with her tone. “Too bad. You’re not lifting a finger today.”

“Mina, your dad’s my doctor, not you,” I teased, but she just stuck her tongue out at me while dialing.

“We’re outside—come unload,” she barked into the phone, then slipped it back into her purse with a satisfied grin.

Within minutes, Lucy appeared with two guys in tow. One of them was immediately tackled by Mina, who launched herself at him like a human cannonball. He caught her with ease, laughing as if he’d done it a thousand times before.

The other guy—who I assumed was Taehyung—had his arm casually draped around Lucy’s shoulders and looked like he could bench-press a truck. He was huge, his broad chest stretching the fabric of his jacket, but there was this boyish grin that somehow made him less intimidating. His dark hair was cut close, and his deep brown eyes twinkled with a playful, mischievous glint.

Lucy led him over to me, and Taehyung sized me up with a cheeky smirk. “So, you’re the fresh meat, huh?”

“That’s me,” I replied with a laugh. “Straight off the butcher block.”

“I like this one,” he said to Lucy, ruffling her hair. “She’s got sass. Can we keep her?”

“You’re such an idiot,” Lucy shot back, shoving him playfully.

Taehyung glanced at my crutches. “What’s with the wingmen?”

“Huh?”

“The crutches,” he clarified, grinning. “Your wingmen.”

“Oh, right. Sports injury.”

“A player, huh?” His grin widened, teasing me.

“Not exactly,” I said, laughing.

“I dunno, Lou,” he said to Lucy, “I don’t think she’ll keep up with us.”

“Keep it up, Tae,” Lucy teased, nudging him, “or I might dump you for her.”

“Eh, Jimin can do the heavy lifting. I’ll just carry the cripple,” Taehyung said with a wicked grin, and before I could protest, he scooped me up like I was weightless. A startled yelp escaped me as my crutches clattered to the sidewalk. And just like that, I was cradled in his arms like a rag doll.

“Taehyung!” Mina shouted, pulling herself away from Jimin to storm over. “She’s injured! You can’t just throw her around like that.”

“She’s tiny, almost as small as you,” Taehyung laughed, totally unbothered. “Besides, if she’s sticking around, she’s gotta get used to a little manhandling.”

“She won’t be sticking around if you scare her off by treating her like a sack of potatoes,” Mina snapped, hands on her hips.

Taehyung just grinned and looked down at me. “You don’t mind, do you, Y/N?”

Still processing the fact that I was four feet off the ground in the arms of a complete stranger, I blinked, and to my surprise, I nodded. “Uh, sure, Taehyung,” I muttered, feeling oddly at ease despite the absurdity of the situation. His energy, his laugh, the warmth in his eyes—it was impossible to feel uncomfortable around him.

“See? Y/N’s my homegirl now,” Taehyung said with a triumphant grin, like he’d just won an award for best human being.

“Oh, you know it, G,” Lucy chimed in, laughing like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Chim, come meet my new best friend!” Taehyung called over his shoulder, still holding me like it was the most natural thing in the world—like this wasn’t a situation where I probably should have been, I don’t know, walking?

Jimin, who had been watching the whole circus unfold with a quiet, amused smile, finally made his way over. He extended his hand, his voice as soft and melodic as the warm look in his eyes. “Pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” he said, each word carrying a kind of gentleness that made it impossible not to like him instantly.

Still awkwardly perched on Taehyung’s back, I reached out to shake his hand, the usual wave of discomfort that came with meeting new people creeping up. But something about Jimin’s calm presence, those kind eyes of his, made it easier than I expected. “Don’t worry,” he added with a knowing grin, “you’ll get used to this bunch of lunatics.”

I let out a small laugh, the tension in my shoulders easing just a little. “I’m starting to think you’re right.”

“Alright, enough with the pleasantries!” Mina’s voice cut through, sharp and loud, as always. She clapped her hands with military precision. “We didn’t drag you guys here for social hour. Time to work!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jimin said, snapping a playful salute before heading over to the trunk to start unloading supplies.

I wriggled a bit on Taehyung’s back, trying to find a way down. “Okay, Taehyung, time to put me down.”

“Nope,” he replied, patting my leg like it was a done deal. “I told you, I’m carrying you in.”

“I can walk, you know,” I protested, feeling the need to remind him that I still had two fully-functioning legs, even if they weren’t exactly in peak condition. “And Jimin could probably use your help.”

“Jimin’s got it covered,” Taehyung said nonchalantly, grabbing a bag of paint supplies with one hand while still managing to hold me securely on his back with the other. “Lucy, grab her crutches—aka Goose and Maverick.”

“Goose and Maverick?” I raised an eyebrow, thoroughly confused.

“Your wingmen,” Taehyung explained with utmost seriousness, like I was supposed to get this. “You can’t fly without them.”

“You’re ridiculous, Taehyung.”

“I know,” he replied with a wide, disarming grin. “That’s what makes me so lovable.”

And with that, he hauled us both inside, with Jimin, Mina, and Lucy following behind, their arms loaded with paint cans and brushes.

By the time we made it up to my apartment, I’d stopped trying to escape Taehyung’s “manhandling.” It was clear this “Divine Design Day” was more like a crazy, fun-filled bootcamp than your typical painting party. But weirdly, I didn’t mind. Between the laughter, the constant banter, and the easy camaraderie, I realized something—I was smiling more than I had in a long time. The tension I’d carried around for months, maybe even years, seemed to melt away with every joke and every shared moment of laughter.

As the day went on, I noticed something else: this wasn’t just about painting or setting up furniture. This was their way of pulling me into their world, a world that felt warm and open in a way I hadn’t experienced in years. By lunchtime, I had Taehyung laughing so hard he nearly dropped his paint roller, and I felt myself slipping back into sarcasm, something I hadn’t felt comfortable doing in a while.

Lucy, Taehyung, and Jimin worked seamlessly together, taping off the walls and laying down tarps while Mina orchestrated the whole operation like a general overseeing her troops. At first, I tried to stay out of their way, but before long, I found myself pulled into the action—sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by paint splatters, as they worked around me. It felt oddly comforting, this strange, unexpected bond forming around me.

By late afternoon, the loft had transformed. We’d painted two rooms and were almost done with a third. The place was beginning to feel like an actual home, a place I could settle into. The thought of unpacking didn’t feel as overwhelming anymore, so I decided to start with something familiar: my books.

Jimin carried the three boxes over like they weighed nothing, flashing me a smile before heading back to help Taehyung with the last of the painting. I opened the first box, and immediately, nostalgia hit me like a wave. Books had always been my safe haven. The feel of the pages, the scent of old paper—it was like stepping back into a world where everything made sense. As I started stacking them by genre and alphabetically, a sense of calm washed over me.

“Hey, Y/N!” Mina’s voice called out from the living room, interrupting my quiet moment. “Do you want us to start unpacking these other boxes? The paint’s dry enough now.”

“Yeah, sure,” I called back, not thinking much of it. “There shouldn’t be much in them.”

Mina’s voice got closer as she poked around. “One’s labeled ‘Miscellaneous,’ and the other doesn’t have anything written on it.”

“Huh, that’s weird,” I said, frowning slightly. “I thought I labeled everything.”

“Well, want me to open the mystery box?” Mina asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Go for it,” I said, feeling a small tug of curiosity myself. What could it be?

I heard the familiar sound of tape being ripped open, followed by Mina’s high-pitched squeal that could probably be heard by the neighbors. It echoed through the loft, loud enough to make me jump.

“Geez, Mina,” I muttered, stacking another book on the shelf. “Are you trying to summon every dog in the city?”

“Y/N!” Mina’s voice was filled with barely-contained excitement. When she popped her head around the half-wall, her eyes were wide with mischief, the kind of look that usually meant trouble.

“What is it, Mina?” I asked, wary.

She strutted over, something in her hands, her face lit with that mischievous gleam. And then, she held it up.

It was the plaque. That plaque. The one my mom had made after the 2020 Olympics, with “Olympic Silver Medalist” gleaming beneath my name. My stomach dropped, like someone had yanked the floor out from under me.

Shit.

Everything inside me screamed to grab it, shove it back in the box, pretend I’d never seen it. But I was frozen, staring at that plaque like it had just upended everything I was trying to build here. There it was, in all its shiny, unapologetic glory—my past, casually standing right in the middle of my future like it belonged. Like it had every right to.

“Care to explain why you never mentioned this?” Mina teased, her grin stretching wide like she had just found the golden ticket.

I groaned and rubbed a hand over my face. Of course, of course this would come up now. I wasn’t ready for this conversation—not now, not ever. “Where did you even find that?”

“In the unmarked box,” she said, like that was all the explanation needed.

Of course. The unmarked box. Thanks, Emily, I thought, bitterly. Of all the things my mother could’ve sent, this had to make the trip.

Mina was looking at me like she was a detective who’d just cracked the case. Her eyes were practically burning holes through me, waiting for me to spill the beans. I sighed, knowing I couldn’t avoid it. “Was there anything else in there?” I asked, stalling, even though I already knew exactly what else was hiding in that box.

“Oh, plenty,” she replied, clearly loving this. “Or should I say... Y/N Y/L/N, Olympic Silver Medalist and National Champion Figure Skater? Care to explain why this little tidbit never came up in conversation?”

Her words hung there between us, playful but pointed, and I sighed again. Mina wasn’t mad, not at all. She was just amused—like she’d just uncovered some secret Easter egg in a movie she wasn’t expecting.

“Okay, yeah,” I muttered, feeling the flush creep up my neck. “You got me. I was going to tell you eventually, I just... didn’t want it to be a thing, you know?” I looked down at my hands, fidgeting with the spine of a book. “It’s not like I’m ashamed of it. I just... liked that you didn’t know. It was easier that way. I could just be Y/N, without all the... assumptions or whatever.”

Mina’s face softened, and she lowered the plaque with a quiet chuckle. “I get it, Y/N. Honestly, I do. And for what it’s worth, it doesn’t change anything. Lucy and I? We’re still the same girls who’ve been feeding you pizza and hauling in your groceries.” She gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “And trust me, Jimin and Taehyung? They’re probably the last people on earth who care about figure skating. No crazed fans here.”

Relief flooded through me, but a little bit of that lingering embarrassment stayed in the back of my mind. “Thanks,” I said, my voice quiet. “I’m sorry for not saying something earlier. It just... it felt good to be normal for a while.”

Mina grinned, nudging me with her shoulder. “Normal’s overrated. And you didn’t lie—you just... omitted a few sparkly details.”

I laughed, feeling the tension start to melt. We made our way back to the box. Inside, it wasn’t just the plaque—there were old photos, magazines, medals, and even some of my old costumes, glittering with sequins. It was like a time capsule from a life I thought I’d left behind, packed up meticulously and sent across the country by Emily, my ever-persistent mother.

Pinned to one of the costumes was a note in her unmistakable handwriting: Just in case.

“Subtle, Emily,” I muttered, tossing the costume back into the box.

“Who’s Emily?” Mina asked, plopping down beside me on the floor.

“My mom,” I replied, letting out a long sigh.

Mina nodded, picking up one of the magazines with my face plastered on the cover. She turned it over in her hands like she was still trying to process it. “So... I’m guessing you didn’t pack all this yourself?”

“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “I left all my skating stuff back in Vegas. But Emily—she has her own ideas about what’s best. She thought I might need a little ‘reminder’ of my accomplishments.”

“Or a lot of reminders,” Mina said, holding up another sparkly costume, her eyebrows raised in mock surprise.

I snatched the costume from her, laughing despite myself. “Well, I didn’t exactly want all of this here. I’m not sure if I’ll ever skate again, so I didn’t feel like living in sequins and medals every day, you know?”

Mina’s grin faded a little, and she placed her hand on my knee, her touch gentle. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s fine,” I said, trying to push away the heaviness creeping into my chest. “I’m dealing with it. I just... didn’t think I’d need all this while I’m... figuring things out.”

We sat there in a quiet, heavy silence, surrounded by the ghosts of my past life that refused to stay buried. I glanced down at the shimmering fabric in my lap, running my fingers over the beads, feeling too familiar, too close to everything I was trying to leave behind.

“And that’s exactly why she sent it all,” I added, offering a bitter smile. “In Emily’s world, this injury is just me being dramatic. I should be back on the ice by now, training for my next competition.”

“That’s insane,” Mina scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Doesn’t she know what’s going on with your knee?”

“Emily only hears what she wants to hear,” I half-laughed, half-sighed. “But don’t worry. She can’t push me into anything anymore. I’m in control now.”

“Well, whatever you need, we’re here for you, Y/N,” Mina said softly, her words warm and solid. “Whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

I smiled, a warmth spreading through my chest that chased away some of the darkness. “Thanks, Mina. I know I’m not great at all this emotional stuff, but... I’m really glad I met you. It’s been a long time since I had real friends.”

Mina beamed, knocking her knee against mine. “Best friends, Y/N. Not just regular friends.”

I nudged her back, laughing, my heart feeling a little lighter. “Yeah, best friends.”

We sat there, sprawled out on the floor, amidst the remnants of my past life—photos, costumes, memories of who I used to be. And for the first time in a long time, the silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable. It was easy. And, for once, I didn’t mind the mess.

"Hey, lazy bums!" Lucy’s voice rang out from the bedroom where she’d been helping Jimin and Taehyung tape off the last wall for painting. "Are you two just gonna lounge around while we do all the work?"

"Yep, that was the plan," Mina said, not missing a beat.

"Sounds good to me," I chimed in, grinning.

Lucy appeared in the doorway, her grin already in place as she plopped down next to us on the floor like she had nowhere better to be. "Well, if you’re gonna be lazy, I might as well join you."

Mina shot me a sly look and turned to Lucy. "So, Lucy," she drawled, dragging out the words, "did you know that Y/N here is a big-time figure skater?"

Lucy’s eyebrows shot up for a second before she shrugged like it was no big deal. "No shit? I knew your name sounded familiar," she said, totally unfazed. "That’s pretty cool."

Mina gave me a look that clearly said See? No big deal, and I tried not to laugh at how casually Lucy took it.

"You know, Y/N," Lucy said, leaning back on her elbows, "you kinda kick ass out there."

I couldn’t help but laugh. "Thanks, Lucy."

"Seriously," Mina added, rolling over onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows. "The things you can do with your legs... If I were that flexible, Jimin wouldn’t let me out of the bedroom for days!"

I giggled and shook my head. "Please, Mina, you’re giving me way too much credit."

Lucy grinned, mimicking Mina’s pose. "She’s got a point, Y/N. All that flexibility? Total game-changer in the bedroom. Think of the positions you could get into."

"Wow, thanks for the confidence boost, Lucy," I joked, feeling my face heat up. "Glad to know I’ve got you all worked up."

"Not me, you dork," Lucy said, with an exaggerated eye roll. "Guys. You know, the ones who actually matter in this scenario."

"Well, I wouldn’t really know," I said, trying to keep my tone light, though my chest was tightening a little. "But hey, good to know I’ve got options. Stripper? Kama Sutra demonstrator? Naked contortionist?"

Mina suddenly sat up, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Wait a second," she said, her voice suddenly full of disbelief. "Wouldn’t know? Y/N, are you... a virgin?" she asked, as if I had just confessed to being a secret agent.

Heat surged to my cheeks, and before I could even think about how to respond, I shot up like I had just been caught doing something illegal. "Okay, I think that’s enough prying into my personal life for one day," I called over my shoulder, trying—and failing—to sound casual. Embarrassment crawled up my neck like wildfire. "Let’s save the deep dives for when we’re knee-deep in a tub of Ben & Jerry’s at some inevitable sleepover. Pillow fights optional."

"Oh no, Y/N," Mina’s voice rang out behind me, dripping with playful menace. "We’re your best friends now—there’s no such thing as ‘enough prying.’" She paused dramatically, and I could practically hear her smirking. "But fine, keep your little secrets for now. Just know that Lucy and I are official Y/N Y/L/N spelunkers. No secret is too deep, no skeleton too buried. We’ll dig it all up eventually."

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head as I rifled through the fridge, pretending to look for something—anything—that would change the subject. The truth was, with Mina and Lucy around, there was no way in hell my past was going to stay hidden for long. They were relentless, the kind of friends who didn’t just scratch the surface. They dug. They prodded. They excavated until they hit bedrock. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Monday morning, I woke up before dawn, as usual. But instead of jumping out of bed and rushing straight for the coffee maker, I stayed under the soft feather pillows that Mina had insisted would help me sleep better. I wasn’t sure they had, but for the first time in a while, it felt easier to just stay there, letting the weight of the day press down on me slowly, like a shadow growing across the room.

Today was the day my path would be decided. I might have been being melodramatic, but it was hard not to be when the appointment felt like the turning point. The moment I’d have to choose which way to go. I’d been stalled at this fork for too long. It was time to pick a direction, any direction.

A lot of that decision would depend on the new doctor. Dr. Banerjee back in Vegas hadn’t been hopeful. He practically told me not to get my hopes up. Would Dr. Jeon say the same? Emily had made it clear she thought I was just milking the injury, playing the drama queen. And sometimes, I wondered if she was right. Was I just dragging this out? My knee still throbbed when I pushed it too hard, but maybe I was just being weak. Maybe I needed to toughen up, ignore the pain, and push through.

Enough lying in bed. The answer would come soon enough.

I climbed out of bed and started my usual morning stretches, paying close attention to how my knee felt. The lack of soreness gave me a little spark of hope. My flexibility was still there, too—thankfully, I hadn’t lost that during the months of inactivity. That was what had made me stand out on the ice, those long, graceful spiral sequences. If I could still do them, maybe I could skate again. And if I could skate again, I’d need to get back to my Pilates routine, pronto. The longer I waited, the harder it would be to regain the strength and flexibility I’d need.

But for now, all I could do was stretch and hope. The future could wait a little longer.

The truth was, I missed the rush that exercise always gave me. The kind of energy that made my limbs feel electric, the burn that felt almost like a reward. Sitting around, doing nothing, had turned out to be more suffocating than I’d imagined. The first week after surgery had been kind of a relief—like a forced break from the rigid schedule that had ruled my life for so long. I had sprawled out on the couch, devoured three Jane Austen novels in a row, only stopping for food, bathroom breaks, and the occasional nap. It was pure bliss.

But then... the days started to blur. By mid-December, boredom had sunk its teeth in, and I could feel it gnawing at me. Emily, of course, decided I needed a “push.” So, she dragged me back to the rink to “knock some sense into me,” as she put it. The rehab exercises Dr. Banerjee prescribed weren’t enough for her. She complained that it was all taking too long, and after one mortifying demonstration where she shoved me out onto the ice and I immediately fell flat on my ass, she finally stopped insisting I skate.

That didn’t mean she backed off, though. Oh no. She still had me show up every day to “consult” with Yoongi, my coach, about what came next. But it only made me feel trapped. Like a prisoner pacing in the perimeter of a shrinking cell. That was when I started thinking about leaving. With Emily always there, it was like I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t hear myself over the sound of her voice barking orders and issuing demands. If my career was over, I needed space to figure out what came next, and staying in Vegas wasn’t going to give me that.

Dr. Banerjee had mentioned a few specialists in Michigan who had experience with my kind of injury. As soon as he said it, I latched onto the idea of moving back. The doctors would satisfy Emily’s need for reassurance, and the distance would give me the space to breathe, to be. She didn’t like it at first—said it was a waste of time, of resources—but when she saw I wasn’t backing down, she caved. Not without conditions, of course.

She found the apartment, bought the car, booked the doctor’s appointments, arranged the flights. The only thing I cared about was leaving as soon as possible. So, I did. I boarded a plane, said goodbye to the warmth of Nevada, and didn’t look back.

And here I was now. Sitting at the edge of a decision. Despite the tight knot of anxiety in my stomach, I had to admit, moving back was starting to feel like the right choice. There was something about Michigan that felt more like home than anywhere I’d been in years. It wasn’t just the cold air or the city’s winding streets; it was something deeper, something about being away from the noise of expectations, the pressure to constantly prove myself. Here, I could just be Y/N, and for the first time in a long while, that didn’t feel like a hollow title.

I went through the motions of getting ready—showering, drying my hair, pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater. I wasn’t sure if the routine was helping calm my nerves or just delaying the inevitable. I ate a lemon poppy seed muffin, wiped the crumbs off the counter, and tried to ignore the tension creeping up my shoulders. My mind kept drifting back to the appointment. What would Dr. Jeon say? Was I still Y/N Y/L/N, competitive skater? Or was I about to become someone else entirely?

A knock on the door startled me out of my thoughts. Mina’s voice floated in, cheerful as ever. “Morning!” she called out as she let herself in. I’d given her a spare key yesterday—mostly because she insisted, and I hadn’t come up with a good reason not to.

“Good morning,” I said, my voice lighter than I felt, as she waltzed into the kitchen, all bright-eyed and grinning.

“Happy Lose-the-Crutches Day!” she proclaimed with a teasing lilt in her voice.

“You’re weird,” I said, shaking my head.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. You can’t tell me you’re not excited to ditch your flyboys.” She shot a glance at the crutches leaning against the wall. “Maybe with fewer appendages to trip over, you’ll stop bumping into things so much.”

“Doubt it,” I replied, holding back a smile. “I’ve always been a klutz. Kind of ironic, don’t you think? Champion figure skater who trips over air.”

“Not ironic,” Mina said, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “You were born to be on the ice. That’s all.”

I raised an eyebrow at her, a little skeptical. “You really think so?”

“Definitely,” she said, her tone sincere, her eyes steady. It made me pause. “I’ve seen you skate, Y/N. It’s like watching something otherworldly.”

I’d heard words like that before—usually from articles or fans—but hearing it from Mina, with that quiet belief in her eyes, felt different. It felt like maybe I could believe it too, if I let myself.

I cleared my throat, avoiding her gaze. “Thanks, Mina.”

She grinned, brightening up. “Come on, babe. Let’s get going. Grab Goose and Maverick and let’s jet.”

I rolled my eyes at the ridiculous names she’d given my crutches but grabbed them anyway. The sooner this was over, the sooner I’d know what came next. Mina and I headed out, slipping into her car as she cranked the heat.

“Thanks for chauffeuring me,” I said, trying to make light of the anxiety gnawing at me.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” she laughed. “I’m happy to do it. Besides, it gives me an excuse to pop in and see Dad. Makes me look like the ‘good child.’”

“I have a feeling you don’t need much help keeping that title.”

“True,” she said, her voice filled with fondness. “But I like stopping by the hospital now and then. It’s funny how different we all are—my brothers and me—but we’ve always been close. Taehyung’s a tank on the ice, and Jungkook’s fast as hell, but they’ve always looked out for me. And growing up with them... well, let’s just say I’ve had a lot of practice handling troublemakers.”

"How did they end up playing on the same team, anyway? Doesn’t that kind of thing usually not happen?" I asked, trying to distract myself from the knot tightening in my chest.

“It doesn’t,” she admitted. “Taehyung wasn’t a big name in the draft picks. Being a hometown boy helped, but once the Red Wings saw him play, they knew they had a hidden gem. Then Jungkook came up the next year. Having Taehyung already on the team definitely helped his chances. Plus, it’s good PR—two hometown brothers in the NHL.”

“Guess I’ll have to learn a little more about hockey,” I said, offering a half-smile.

“Y/N, trust me. You’re in Michigan now. It’s practically a requirement.” She winked at me as we pulled into the hospital parking lot. The knot of anxiety tightened in my chest again, but it didn’t feel the same. The difference now was, for the first time, I felt like I had a little more control over where I went from here—even if I had no idea what the next steps would look like.

The uncertainty was still there, but it didn’t feel like a shadow I had to run from. For now, it was just another stretch of ice I’d have to navigate. And if I stumbled a bit along the way, well, I could live with that.

“That’s pretty cool,” I said, and Mina’s face lit up, her voice picking up speed as she launched into more stories about her brothers and their love for hockey.

“Yeah, they’re living the dream. Mom and Dad were all in on their decision to go pro. A lot of the hockey parents we knew were pulling their kids out, saying they should focus on school or get 'real' jobs. But my parents never did that. They always cared more about us finding something we loved, not just something practical.”

As she kept talking, sharing memories of their childhood, I could practically feel the warmth of the Jeon family’s bond. It was one of those things you could almost touch, the kind of closeness that felt familiar and distant all at once. Taehyung, I learned, was adopted. His birth mother had been Mina's aunt—Yuri's sister—who’d passed away when he was a baby. The Jeons had taken him in, raised him as their own, and made him the oldest son.

There was something comforting in the way Mina talked about them. It was like hearing about a life I’d never had but always kind of wished I could. A life where family wasn’t just a word, but a real, tangible thing.

We pulled into the parking lot of St. Joseph’s, and I felt the weight of it settle over me. Signing in at the front desk felt like signing away the last of my denial. And when the nurse called my name five minutes later, the nerves hit, deep and clawing at my chest.

In the exam room, everything smelled like antiseptic, cold and sterile, the kind of chill that seeps into your bones from the linoleum floors. The nurse did her usual routine—height, weight, blood pressure—and then left us alone. Mina sat in a chair next to the exam table, and I perched on the edge, my hands folded together so tightly that my knuckles were almost white.

It was ridiculous how fast my pulse was racing. I’d been through so much worse before—competitions where the world was watching, where one slip-up could cost everything. But this... this was different. This was my future, maybe even who I was, dangling on a thread. Figure skating didn’t give you time to waste. I always thought I had more. Now it felt like the curtain was coming down, and I was stuck in the dark.

My foot started tapping a nervous rhythm against the cabinet. I bit my lip hard enough that it almost hurt. Mina leaned over and gently placed a hand on my foot, stilling it.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

I nodded, but it felt like a lie.

Before I could say anything, the door swung open, and in walked a man I assumed was Dr. Jeon. If this was Mina’s dad, then he was definitely proof that some people aged like fine wine. He had salt-and-pepper hair slicked back in a way that looked effortless but somehow stylish. His brown eyes were warm but sharp, taking in the room with a kind of calm authority that made me wonder if Michigan doctors all looked like movie stars instead of regular people.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” he asked, his voice shifting from professional to something warmer as his gaze landed on Mina. “Oh hey der, Mina! Didn’t see ya there!”

I almost snorted. Did he seriously just say ‘hey der’? I felt like I’d stepped into a Michigan stereotype, except, instead of flannel-wearing folks talking about fishing, everyone here looked like they belonged on the cover of a magazine.

Mina jumped up to give him a hug, and the bond between them was clear. The way his arm slid around her shoulders, the way she grinned so wide her eyes sparkled as she introduced me.

“Y/N’s my new neighbor! Thought I’d bring her by to say hi,” she said, practically bouncing.

“Well, that’s just great! Hope she hasn’t been driving you too nuts already,” Dr. Jeon said, the playful gleam in his eyes making me smile, even though my nerves were still jittering.

“No, Mina’s been great, Dr. Jeon,” I said, but my voice came out a little tighter than I wanted.

“Please, call me Suho,” he said with a grin. “Any friend of Mina’s is a friend of mine. And if you’re hanging out with her, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Oh! That reminds me,” Mina interrupted, her eyes suddenly wide with mischief. “Are you and Mom going to the game on Friday?”

“You betcha! Wouldn’t miss it.”

Mina turned to me, practically glowing. “Y/N, do you want to come to the Red Wings game with us? Lucy and I are going, and we always meet up with the guys afterward. It’s a blast! Please say you’ll go?”

“Mina, you’re pulling out the puppy lip,” I warned, though I felt my resolve weakening.

“I know! It works every time. Come on, please?”

I sighed, feeling the last of my resistance crumble. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Yesss!” she cheered, her excitement contagious. “This is going to be so awesome. Oh, and can I pick out your outfit?”

“Alright, Mina,” Suho interrupted with a chuckle. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I need to actually, you know, consult with my patient here.”

“Oops, right,” Mina said, sheepishly. “I’ll be in the waiting room. See you Friday, Dad!” She kissed his cheek before bouncing out of the room, leaving behind a silence that felt almost too loud.

“She’s always been like that?” I asked, half-amused, half in disbelief.

Suho chuckled, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Yah, she’s always been a bit of a firecracker. But she means well. Now, let’s take a look at that knee, shall we?”

The fluttering in my stomach kicked up again as he flipped open a manila folder. “Your doctor in Nevada sent over your records,” he said, drawing out the ‘a’ in Nevada in a way that made me bite back a smile. He caught my look and grinned. “What’s the matter? My Michigan accent getting to ya?”

I let out a breathy laugh, the tension starting to ease. “Sorry, I’m still readjusting. It’s been a while since I’ve lived here.”

He leaned in like he was about to share a secret. “Oh, don’tcha worry. We’ll have ya speakin’ like a northerner again in no time, ya betcha.”

The exaggerated drawl pulled a groan out of me, but it was hard to stay tense with him grinning like that. The atmosphere in the room felt lighter, easier to breathe in. Maybe it wasn’t just the change of scenery that would help me adjust. Maybe it was moments like this.

“Alright, let’s get down to business,” he said, flipping open my medical records with a practiced flick of his wrist. His voice shifted, more serious now. “Looks like you tore your ACL pretty badly back in November and had surgery not long after. I see you also had a concussion from the fall?”

I nodded, the words tight in my throat as the memory of that day washed over me. The fall. It was one of those moments that replays on a loop in your head, like a nightmare you can’t escape. Every time I closed my eyes, there it was again.

“The good news is,” Suho continued, “it looks like the concussion’s healed up nicely. And your knee—well, it’s a long road, but you’re making progress. Any soreness left?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice tighter than I wanted. “It still aches if I’m on my feet for too long. I’ve been doing the rehab exercises, but it’s slow. Really slow.”

Suho nodded and gently moved my leg, testing the range of motion. “That’s to be expected. Recovery from something like this doesn’t happen overnight. It’ll still be sore. It might even throb as you rebuild strength, but you’re healing. You’re making progress. I think we can start transitioning you off the crutches. Take it slow, though—walk short distances without them at first, see how it feels.”

His words hit me like a lifeline I didn’t even know I needed. “So... does that mean I can skate again? Not right now, but... eventually?”

Suho met my eyes. His face was serious again. “If you stick with the rehab, listen to your body, and don’t rush it, then yes, I think it’s possible. But it’s going to take time. Patience is going to be key.” He paused, his gaze anchoring me. “We can start you on the treadmill by the end of the week. Slow, steady walking, just to get your knee used to the movement again. Maybe—just maybe—if everything goes well, we can start with some light skating. No jumps, no spins—just laps.”

Relief hit me like a wave, a warmth that spread through me like the first hint of daylight after a long night. It wasn’t a promise, but it was something. And right now, that was enough.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice fragile, barely holding it together.

Suho smiled, kind but firm. “One step at a time, Y/N. You’re not in this alone.”

I sat there, absorbing the weight of his words. This wasn’t the end. It was a new beginning, a different kind of fight. But it was mine.

He flipped through my records, his voice settling back into its practical tone. “Keep up with the therapy. Let’s schedule a follow-up in early April to see how you’re doing. Any questions?”

One question burned in my chest, the one I’d been too scared to ask for months. My heart pounded in my ears, and I swallowed hard, trying to push past the lump in my throat. What if he said what Dr. Banerjee had said? That the damage was too severe? That I’d never skate again? That I’d never compete again?

“Yes, Y/N?” Suho’s voice was calm, patient, his eyes urging me to ask.

I took a shaky breath, forcing myself to speak. “Will I be able to compete again?”

For a split second, he didn’t answer, and in that pause, the whole world seemed to hold its breath with me. Then he exhaled slowly, his voice careful. “That’s a good question. It’s possible. A lot of athletes come back from ACL tears, some even making a full recovery. But a lot depends on how well the next few months go. You’ve got to retrain your knee without overdoing it.”

He leaned forward slightly, his hand resting gently on my shoulder. “The next month is crucial. You’re going to start feeling like your knee’s back to normal, but that’s when you’re most at risk for re-injury. It’ll be tempting to jump right back into your routine, but you’ve got to stick to the plan. If you can do that, we’ll reassess in April.”

I nodded, my mind spinning with all the things he was telling me. There was so much to process, and the fear—God, the fear—still lingered like a shadow, gnawing at the edges of my hope. But then Suho’s next words broke through that darkness.

“Y/N, I don’t want you to lose hope. I know it’s frustrating, but mental determination is going to play a huge role in your recovery. If you stay patient and committed, there’s every reason to believe you’ll get back to where you were.”

A tiny spark of hope flared in my chest. “Really?” I asked, barely daring to believe it.

Suho smiled, a warmth in his eyes that made me believe him just a little more. “I can’t guarantee anything, but if you stay the course, there’s a good chance you’ll be back on that ice—maybe even as an Olympian again.”

The weight I’d been carrying for months felt a little lighter. A little. I felt like maybe—just maybe—there was something to hope for. “Thanks, Dr. Je—uh, Suho,” I corrected myself, sheepish at the grin he shot me.

“No need to thank me,” he said with a chuckle. “This one’s all on you. Just don’t push yourself too hard. There’ll be plenty of time for that later, once you’re healed.”

I gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

We wrapped things up, and as I grabbed my crutches to leave, Suho gave me one last smile. “See you Friday night... at the game.”

“Oh, right! See you then.”

The cold January air hit me as I stepped outside, sharp and biting, but I didn’t mind. Not today. Hope had a way of making everything feel a little warmer, even when the world was still so cold.

After the appointment, Mina insisted on lunch, and we made our way to our favorite café. The kind of place where the staff knows your name, and the menu’s practically burned into your brain. Then, she drove me straight to the dealership where Emily had promised my new car would be waiting.

As we pulled up, my stomach did that familiar drop when I saw it: a shiny Mercedes Benz SUV, gleaming under the dealership lights like it was posing for a magazine cover. It screamed luxury—so Emily. So her. I mean, of course it was a Mercedes. Nothing less for someone like her. But to me, it was just... a reminder of how little she really understood me.

I shouldn’t have been surprised, but there it was—the familiar weight of disappointment settling in my chest like a stone.

I reluctantly climbed into the car, too shiny and new, the leather too pristine beneath me. As I pulled out of the lot, my phone buzzed—Emily, of course. She’d been waiting for me to finish the appointment so she could call and get her feedback. Normally, I’d answer right away, quick to please. But not today. I hit decline, sending her straight to voicemail. If she got upset later, I could always claim I was driving, still getting used to the new car.

We arrived back at the apartment just as Lucy was pulling in, practically radiating her usual excitement. As soon as she saw us, she bounded over, brimming with that energy that made me laugh even when I wasn’t in the mood. The two girls—always together, always bouncing off each other—decided it was the perfect time to test out my "sea legs" with a walk around the block.

“Guys, it’s January. In Michigan. And you want to go for a walk?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, already knowing the answer.

“Come on, Y/N, you’re a figure skater! Don’t tell me you can’t handle the cold,” Mina teased, already bundling up in an impressive number of layers.

“I’ll manage,” I said, surprised at their enthusiasm. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I could handle it, but they seemed so excited, I couldn’t bring myself to say no.

“It’s twenty-two degrees. Practically a heat wave!” Lucy laughed, wrapping a scarf around her neck like she was about to conquer Everest.

We set off, no real destination in mind. It felt surprisingly good to walk without crutches, to breathe in the sharp winter air, to move like I had control again. Like I wasn’t just waiting for my body to catch up with me.

Less than a block in, my phone rang again—Emily. I sighed and quickly muted it before either of them could notice.

“Who is it?” Mina asked, glancing over at me with a curious look in her eye.

“My mom,” I shrugged. “I’ll talk to her later.”

“You were living with her until last week, right?” Lucy asked, her voice full of that inquisitive, "I-want-to-know-all-about-you" tone that she never quite managed to hide.

“Yeah,” I said, glancing up at the sky, trying to gather my thoughts. “My parents split when I was a kid. Dad’s in Washington now, and Emily and I—well, we bounced around for a while.”

“That sounds exciting!” Mina said with wide eyes, like I’d been living some kind of glamorous life. “You must’ve traveled to so many cool places with skating.”

“Sort of,” I said, smiling a little. “I’ve traveled a lot, but mostly it’s arenas and hotel rooms. They all kind of blend together after a while.”

“Really? You don’t get to sightsee?” Lucy asked, surprised.

I shook my head, feeling a little embarrassed. “Not really.”

“That kinda sucks,” Lucy said bluntly, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, a little. I mean, I’m lucky to have had the opportunities, but it’s not all glitter and lights. Mostly it’s just ice rinks and gym time.”

“Not much of a social scene, huh?” Mina asked, clearly intrigued now.

“Nope,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Just a lot of catty, ultra-competitive girls and their stage moms.”

“Ever seen anyone pull a Tanya?” Lucy asked, her voice suddenly teasing, the mischievous glint in her eyes impossible to miss.

“Harding? Nah, usually the sabotage is a little more subtle than a baton to the knee.” I giggled, feeling a little lighter. The past few months had been so heavy, and for a second, it felt like the weight was finally lifting.

“That’s not how you got hurt, is it?” Mina’s voice softened, the concern slipping into her tone as her eyes searched mine.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I just... fell during practice. Stupid. My skate caught on a rough patch of ice, and down I went. Concussion and a torn ACL.”

“Ouch,” Lucy winced, looking at me like I’d just told her about some medieval torture device.

“Yeah, it wasn’t great,” I said, feeling the sting of it even now, even though it was months ago.

“There wasn’t much news about it, though,” Lucy added, brow furrowing in thought. “I didn’t even know you were off the ice.”

“Oh, come on, Lucy!” Mina teased, rolling her eyes. “Y/N’s a big celeb. It was bound to be news eventually.”

“No, it’s okay,” I reassured them, wanting to avoid feeling like I was in the spotlight. “My mom’s my manager, and she kept it quiet. She was hoping I’d bounce back quickly and didn’t want the press all over it. I’m sure once I don’t show up at Nationals, something will leak.”

“Is it weird?” Lucy asked, her curiosity obvious. “Having your mom as your manager?”

“I never really thought about it,” I said, shrugging. “It’s always been that way. When we moved away after the divorce, she was already handling all my schedules and practices. It just sort of... evolved from there.”

“Do you miss her?” Mina’s voice softened, no teasing, just a gentle curiosity.

I sighed, the question catching me off guard. “Honestly? It’s been nice having some space. She couldn’t stop talking about my knee, about how I needed to get back on the ice. It’s like she doesn’t know what to do with herself if I’m not skating.”

“That would get old fast,” Mina agreed with a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah, it really did,” I said, appreciating the distance from it all. For the first time in a long while, I could breathe without worrying if I was letting someone down.

The conversation shifted after that, and soon we were all laughing again as Mina told us about her latest wedding-planning disaster—because, of course, there’s always something.

Before I knew it, we were back at our building, heading up in the elevator.

“So, it’s Monday night,” Lucy said, her grin widening like she was about to make a really good point. “None of us have to work tomorrow, and the guys are busy. You know what that means?”

I shook my head, clueless, watching as she and Mina exchanged a look.

“Girls’ night!” Mina squealed, her excitement practically vibrating in the air.

“Girls’ night?” I echoed, frowning slightly, still trying to wrap my head around what that actually meant.

“Oh, you have no idea what you’ve been missing,” Lucy teased, flinging an arm around my shoulders like we’d been friends for years instead of days. “It’s sacred. We eat junk food, drink cocktails, and watch chick flicks until we pass out from a sugar coma.”

“And this is… fun?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be intrigued or terrified.

“Uh, yeah!” Lucy said, like I’d just asked if the sky was blue.

“I’m not really much of a drinker,” I admitted, feeling a little awkward all of a sudden.

“Lightweight or just don’t like it?” Lucy asked, her curiosity sharpening like she was about to dissect me.

“Neither, really. I just… never really had the chance. Training and alcohol don’t mix, and I was always in bed by nine.” I could feel the heat creeping up my neck, my embarrassment showing through the words.

Mina’s eyes went wide, like I’d just confessed to living under a rock. “Wait, you’ve never had a drink?”

“Not really,” I mumbled, suddenly feeling like I didn’t belong in this conversation at all.

“No moral objections or anything?” Mina asked, her voice teasing but still full of genuine curiosity.

“No, I just… never got around to it,” I said, trying to brush it off but already feeling the weight of my own weirdness.

Mina grinned, practically glowing with excitement. “Well, no bedtime tonight! You in?”

I hesitated. The idea of drinking for the first time made me nervous. But the way their enthusiasm was lighting up the room—well, it was kind of infectious. “Yeah, okay,” I said, even though I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

“Great! We’ll be right over with the provisions!” Mina practically dragged Lucy into their apartment, leaving their door wide open as they disappeared inside, their voices floating back out into the hallway.

"Mina, let’s get the movies! What’s the vibe?" Lucy’s voice called from inside, pulling me into their whirlwind without even asking.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching them with a grin. Lucy was already ransacking their kitchen, piling snacks and bottles into a laundry basket like she was gearing up for some epic battle. “What kind of movies do you like?” she asked, still rummaging around, not even looking up.

“I’m not picky,” I said, laughing at how absurdly fast she was moving.

“Perfect! Chick flicks it is!” she declared, holding up a bag of chips like she’d just discovered treasure.

“Wait, are we really watching all of those?” I asked as Mina emerged from the bedroom with a stack of DVDs taller than her head. It looked like enough to keep us glued to the screen for a week.

“No, but it’s good to have options,” Mina said with a wink, tossing the cases into the basket like she had it all figured out.

“Alright, give us a sec to change into some sweats, and we’ll be over,” Lucy said, already heading to her bedroom with her spoils.

“Sweats, Mina?” I teased, raising an eyebrow. “Do you even own any?”

“It’s girls’ night, Y/N. Concessions must be made,” she replied, pretending to be scandalized.

Back in my apartment, I changed into fleece pants and my old Team USA hoodie, pulling on a pair of fuzzy slipper socks. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for whatever this was, but I was definitely curious. The second I stepped into the living room, I was hit with the full blast of their “party zone” transformation. Mina was fiddling with the DVD player, while Lucy was already setting up the counter with snacks and drinks, making a delightful symphony of chaos in the kitchen.

A wicked grin spread across my face. Emily would flip if she saw this junk food carnival. Tonight was about firsts—first girls’ night, first chick flick binge, first cocktail, first indulgence in all the things I’d never let myself have. I was ready to enjoy it all.

“So, what’d you start us off with?” I asked, as Lucy tossed a bag of Doritos to Mina, who caught it in mid-air with a triumphant grin.

“Well, we’ve got to save our tearjerkers for later,” Mina said with a mischievous smile. “I thought we’d kick things off with How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. Gotta get the laughs and the man candy going early, you know?”

“Mmm… McConaughey…” Lucy sighed dreamily, stretching out like a cat. “That man makes me miss Southern boys.”

“Hey, you could’ve snagged yourself a Texan. You and Jimin both went to Texas Tech,” Mina giggled, throwing a pillow at Lucy.

“Taehyung more than makes up for the lack of an accent,” Lucy shot back with a smirk.

“Uh, speaking of accents…” I chimed in, still trying to shake the sound of Dr. Jeon’s voice from earlier.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” Mina burst out laughing, catching on immediately. “I should’ve warned you about my dad. Isn’t his accent hilarious? I’m used to it, but even now, sometimes it catches me off guard.”

“That man is like sex on a stick at the State Fair,” Lucy added, already heading back to the kitchen for more drinks.

“Lucy!” I exclaimed, feeling my face heat up like a furnace.

“Just admit it, Y/N—Dr. Jeon is drool-worthy,” Lucy teased, her grin so mischievous it was practically glowing.

“Yeah, he’s good-looking,” I stammered, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. “But isn’t he, like, practically your future father-in-law?”

“Exactly,” Lucy said, holding up her drink like she’d just won a gold medal. “Gives me a glimpse into my future, and it’s looking damn good twenty-five years down the road.”

I blinked, trying to process the absurdity of the conversation. “I’m sure Mina doesn’t appreciate you associating her father with… well, that.”

“Stop being such a nun, Y/N. I know my dad’s a DILF,” Mina said, so casually I almost choked.

“A what?” I asked, horrified but somehow intrigued.

Mina and Lucy exchanged a knowing glance. “Oh, sweet summer child,” Lucy sighed dramatically. “DILF stands for ‘Dad I’d like to—’”

I choked on my chip before she could finish, coughing like I’d just swallowed a firecracker. My face was even hotter now.

“Didn’t need that visual, thanks,” I muttered, half-laughing, half-wincing.

Mina patted me on the back, giggling like she couldn’t contain herself. “Oh, Y/N, you’re just too much fun to corrupt.”

“You underestimate the power of the Dark Side,” Lucy added, her voice dropping into a low, Darth Vader impression, complete with heavy breathing.

“Mina, there is no place for Star Wars geekery at Girls’ Night,” Mina interjected with a mock-serious tone, like she was the gatekeeper of some sacred tradition.

“Mina, there’s always a place for Star Wars geekery,” Lucy shot back, turning to me for backup, her eyes wide with earnestness. “Right, Y/N?”

“Uh, sure?” I replied, suddenly feeling very much like I was in a conversation I hadn’t quite signed up for.

“You’ve seen it, right? Star Wars?” Lucy asked, her disbelief written all over her face.

“Actually… no,” I winced, bracing for the fallout.

Lucy gasped like I’d just told her I’d never seen the sun rise. “OH. MY. GOD!” she screamed, the force of her voice almost knocking me over. She dropped her drink onto the counter with a clang. “Are you kidding me? Mina, go get my special editions! We need to fix this now!”

“No way!” Mina shot back, hands on her hips like some kind of movie-critic superhero. “Girls’ Night equals chick flicks, not galactic battles.”

“Hey, The Empire Strikes Back is very romantic,” Lucy protested, her voice full of conviction.

“Yeah, until someone gets their hand sliced off with a lightsaber,” I countered, feeling a little bolder now.

“Whatever, you uncultured heathen,” Lucy rolled her eyes, throwing her hands up dramatically. “Soon, Y/N. I’ll fix this, I swear.”

Lucy handed each of us a glass as she emerged from the kitchen, and Mina reached for the remote. “We ready?” Mina asked, settling in next to me, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

“Yup, everything’s prepped,” Lucy said, raising her glass like she was about to make a grand speech. “Alright, ladies, a toast—to the first of many Girls’ Nights with our new BFF, Y/N.”

“And to getting Y/N tipsy enough to spill all her secrets,” Mina added, making me laugh mid-sip.

“Cheers!” we clinked glasses, and I took a cautious sip of what I thought was water but tasted like pure fire. The burn hit me so fast, I practically choked.

“That’s disgusting! How do you guys drink this stuff?” I gasped, pushing the glass away as my throat burned like it had just met lava.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Lucy said with a grin, clearly enjoying my suffering. “Next round, I promise something fruity.”

Mina snapped her fingers at Lucy. “Make the woman a Kami!”

“So demanding,” Lucy sighed, but a few moments later, she handed me a frothy, pink drink. “Try this. You’ll like it.”

I took a cautious sip, surprised to find it actually tasted good. The burn was still there, but it was wrapped in this sweet, tangy burst of raspberry. I took another sip, feeling warmth spread through me like I’d just been wrapped in a blanket of comfort.

“Good, right?” Lucy prompted, watching me carefully, her grin not quite hiding her excitement.

“Really good,” I nodded, a little more confidently this time, taking a bigger drink.

“Just pace yourself,” Mina warned, raising an eyebrow. “There’s more alcohol in those than it tastes.”

Hours flew by in a blur of movies, laughter, and progressively more ridiculous makeovers. By the time we finished Clueless, I was sprawled across the couch, my head resting in Lucy’s lap with Mina snuggled up against my legs. The room felt warm and familiar, and—surprisingly—comfortable. Like I belonged.

“The night’s still young! What’s next?” Lucy stretched, her voice muffled by the pillow she was hugging to her chest.

“Leo!” Mina shouted, her eyes practically sparkling. “The night isn’t over until we’ve seen Leo!”

Lucy popped in Titanic and grabbed another drink from the kitchen, moving just a little slower now, like the alcohol was finally starting to catch up. “Anyone else?”

“I shouldn’t—” I started.

“Nonsense!” Mina interrupted, poking me in the side with a wicked grin. “You’re still way too coherent for a proper Girls’ Night.”

Rolling my eyes, I accepted the glass she handed me. “Fine. But if I pass out, I’m blaming you.”

By the time Jack was sketching Rose, I’d stopped keeping track of the drinks, and the night had dissolved into fits of laughter and way-too-drunk confessions. At one point, Lucy and Mina reenacted the “I’m flying” scene, nearly knocking over the wine bottle in the process.

But as the movie stretched into the early hours, I found myself comfortable—maybe too comfortable, considering how much I’d indulged. As the credits rolled, Mina turned to me, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Okay, real talk, Y/N. Never?” Lucy asked, her voice serious but with that mischievous gleam in her eyes that I knew meant she was circling back to the topic she was clearly obsessed with.

“Nope,” I said, crossing my arms like some sort of rebellious fortress. I wasn’t budging.

“That’s just... so wrong,” Lucy groaned, her eyes practically rolling out of her head. “Your lady business must be staging a rebellion.”

“There are plenty of people who make it to twenty-four without sex,” I said, rolling my eyes like I was offering them the most obvious truth in the universe.

“Yeah, but you’re hot!” Mina chimed in, her hands waving around like she was making a dramatic point. “Guys should be lining up for you!”

“I’d jump you,” Mina added with a grin, her finger lazily plucking at the fuzz on my pants like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Thanks, Mina,” I laughed, genuinely amused. “That’s true friendship right there.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, her expression pure contentment, like she’d just solved world peace.

“I don’t know what to tell you guys,” I admitted, my thoughts briefly flickering to Jungkook. “I just never really had the opportunity.”

“There’s gotta be at least one hot male figure skater you could’ve, you know, jumped in the weight room,” Lucy teased, her tone teasing but somehow still playful.

“Lucy, some people actually use the gym for exercise,” I shot back, feeling like I was dodging a slow-motion car crash.

“Oh, believe me, Y/N, I use it for recreational purposes,” Lucy quipped, her grin devilish. “My idea of ‘recreation’ just doesn’t match yours.”

“Perv,” I muttered, laughing, trying to shield myself from her shenanigans.

"Proud to be one!" Lucy declared, her laughter echoing through the room like a contagious wave.

“We need to find you a guy,” Mina said suddenly, tapping her chin like she was a mastermind concocting a plan for world domination. “Lucy, who do we know?”

“No way!” I held up my hands defensively. “You are not setting me up with anyone.”

“But, Y/N!” Mina protested, as if this was a criminal injustice.

“I can find my own guy if I want to,” I insisted, my thoughts unwillingly drifting to Jungkook. I bit my lip, and it was like they could read me like a book.

“Oh, look at that face!” Mina practically lunged at me. “You met someone, didn’t you?”

“No!” I shot back a little too quickly, feeling the heat of embarrassment climb up my neck.

“You can’t fool us, honey,” Mina said, her voice full of mock disbelief. “That face has ‘crush’ written all over it!” She leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Who’s the guy? Is he hot? Is he here? Did you kiss him? Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Her questions were coming at me like a machine gun, and I was about to implode.

“There’s nothing to tell!” I mumbled, sinking deeper into the couch, wishing I could just disappear.

“Y/N!” Mina cried dramatically. “We’ve been with Chim and Tae for years! We need to live vicariously through your romantic escapades!”

“What romantic escapades?” I shot back, trying—and failing—to sound cool and detached.

Lucy raised an eyebrow, her look knowing and challenging. “You’re hiding something boy-related. Spill.”

“Fine!” I groaned, throwing my hands up in defeat. “I met a guy at the airport. We talked for a few minutes while he helped me with my bags. That’s it. Can we move on now?”

“No, we cannot move on!” Lucy said, her eyes practically popping out of her head. “Was he cute?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I shrugged, trying to sound indifferent, but the truth was, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“You guess?” Mina echoed, her brow almost disappearing into her hairline.

“I wouldn’t really call him ‘cute,’” I muttered, my face burning as I tried to downplay it.

“Well, what would you call him then?” Mina’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Hot? Sexy? Drop-dead gorgeous? Fuckhawt?”

“Uh… all of the above?” I finally admitted, which sent them into a squealing frenzy that could’ve shattered glass.

“Did you kiss him? Did you give him your number? When are you seeing him again?” they fired off at me, like they were in some kind of interrogation scene in a rom-com.

“No, I didn’t kiss him, and I didn’t give him my number,” I confessed, biting my lip as I fought to suppress the butterflies. “But, yeah, he suggested we meet up again. That’s all.”

Mina looked at me, her expression downright disappointed. “Why didn’t you give him your number?”

“I don’t know, Mina!” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I have no clue what I’m doing when it comes to guys. He didn’t ask for my number, and I wasn’t about to throw it at him if he was just being polite.”

“I’m sure he wasn’t just being polite, Y/N,” Lucy said, her tone dripping with conviction, like she knew something I didn’t.

“Whatever,” I sighed, trying to steer the ship away from that topic. “He was gorgeous and sweet, and yes, he gave me butterflies, but I’ll probably never see him again, so can we please talk about something else?”

Mina leaned back with a dreamy sigh, her eyes practically glowing with unspoken wisdom. “Don’t worry, Y/N. Your butterflies are still out there. You just have to catch them.”

Taglist: @smartkookiee @knightofmidnight @mar-lo-pap @jjeonjjk7 @somewhatjungkook @lovingkoalaface @jimineepaboya @iswearimover5feetall @blissingtaehyung @futuristicenemychaos @kooloveys @jenniebyrubies @8thmuse @beattiestreet @tatzzz-25

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