#but i can't keep spiralling in thoughts like this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sundeyyy · 20 hours ago

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𝙒𝘼𝙏𝘾𝙃 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝘽𝘼𝘾𝙆───𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙔: 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙊𝙉𝙀

✰𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: BadBoys!Ateez x Broken!Reader

✰𝙬𝙘: 8.7k

✰ 𝙨𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: Your spiral deepens. The bottle becomes your escape, and school turns into a stage for your self-destruction. Drunk laughs, shaky footsteps, and viral videos make you the talk of the school.

✰ 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: Bullying, Underage drinking, Emotional distress, Depressive behavior, Self-harm, Cyberbullying, Mental health struggles, Alcohol abuse, Self-destructive behavior, Toxic coping mechanisms, Public intoxication, Feelings of worthlessness/ hopelessness, Self-isolation, Suicidal ideation (Imk if I forgot anything).

✰ 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙧: This series is not a representation of the idols as individuals and is to not be taken seriously. If you’re uncomfortable with the content in the series or on my page, then feel free to click off at any moment.

───

The silence in your room is heavy—thick enough to choke on. Moonlight filters in through your window, casting a pale glow across the cluttered floor. Yuji sits on the edge of your bed, her posture stiff but her eyes soft with worry. You've barely moved since she arrived, barely spoken.

And then, her voice slices through the silence.

"What did you do?"

You flinch.

Your fingers tighten around the hem of your hoodie. That question, asked so gently, feels louder than any scream. You stare at your hands, your breath uneven. You should lie—make something up, say you just needed space—but the truth is a storm that's been boiling under your skin for days, and it wants out.

"I tried to disappear," you whisper.

Yuji's brows knit. "What do you mean?"

You swallow hard. Shame burns in your throat.

"I took... something. Pills. Maybe drugs, I don't know. I just wanted everything to stop." You pause, then force yourself to go on. "I thought... if I took enough, I wouldn't wake up."

Yuji stares at you, stunned. Her breath catches, her expression falling.

"Y/N..."

You shake your head quickly, the guilt thick in your chest. "It didn't work. I threw it up, or maybe it wasn't enough. I didn't even do it right."

The silence that follows is suffocating. Yuji is still, eyes wide and glossy, like she's seeing you break in real time.

You look away, voice flat. "Now you know. You can go, if you want." "I'm not going anywhere."

Yuji's voice is barely above a whisper, but it lands heavy in the room. You keep your eyes on the floor, heart hammering in your chest, wishing you could dissolve into it.

Then— A sharp knock. The door creaks open.

"Y/N?"

Your mom's voice is hoarse, like she's been crying for days. When you don't answer, she steps into the room. She looks like she barely slept—hair messy, dark circles beneath her eyes, her clothes rumpled.

But her eyes are locked on you. And she's shaking.

"Did I—did I hear you right?" she asks, voice trembling. "You... you tried to—"

You look away. The shame is unbearable. It crawls up your spine and presses against your ribs like barbed wire.

"Mom, just—don't," you mutter.

"No." Her voice cracks. She moves closer, drops to her knees in front of you. "You can't say something like that and expect me to be quiet. Y/N, I thought you were just shutting me out because you were angry—God, I didn't know it was this bad—"

"How could I let it get this bad?"

She breaks.

Right there on your floor, your mother folds in on herself, sobbing. Yuji stands frozen by the bed, tears in her eyes, watching a family fall apart in real time.

You can't handle it.

You pull your hood over your head, curl your body inward, and whisper, "I didn't mean for anyone to find out. I just wanted to disappear. That's all."

The room is still again. The only sound is your mother's quiet crying.

And then—Yuji finally moves. She sits beside you again, her hand ghosting over yours but not grabbing it.

"You're not disappearing," she says. "Not while we're here. Not if I have anything to say about it." Your mother's hand slowly reaches for yours again, hesitant, like she's afraid even touching you might break you further.

"I knew something was wrong, Y/N," she says, her voice shaking. "I saw the signs. But you wouldn't talk to me. I begged you to tell me what was going on, but you kept pushing me away... Why didn't you come to me?"

You look down at your hands, feeling the weight of her words. Your mother had always been there, had always tried, but you kept shutting her out, keeping everything locked inside. "I didn't know how to say it," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "I didn't know how to ask for help."

She shakes her head slowly, tears spilling from her eyes. "Y/N, you don't have to ask for help. You just have to tell me. I could've been there for you. I want to be there for you, always."

You bite your lip, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I didn't want to be a burden to you. You have enough on your plate already," you say, your words sounding almost robotic, like you've rehearsed them a million times.

Her grip tightens on your hand, as if to ground you both in this moment. "You're never a burden, Y/N. I'm your mother. I'm supposed to be here for you. I need you to believe that."

Your heart aches as you hear her voice crack, the rawness of her pain mirroring your own. "I should've noticed sooner... I should've known," she whispers more to herself than to you. "I'm so sorry I didn't push harder."

You pull away slightly, your walls starting to rebuild as the shame and guilt rush in. "It doesn't matter now. I messed up," you mutter, looking away, wishing you could just disappear.

She doesn't let you pull away for long. Her hands gently cup your face, forcing you to meet her gaze. "It does matter, Y/N. You matter. More than anything. You're not a burden. You're my daughter, and I will always fight for you, no matter what you've been through."

The words feel like a promise, one you've been desperate to hear for so long. For a moment, it's like you can finally breathe, and the tension in your chest eases, just a little.

But the weight of everything is still there. You still feel broken. Still feel like you don't belong in the world you're supposed to be a part of.

But for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you're not as alone as you thought.

You sit with your hands in your lap, fingers twitching like they're unsure if they should be building a wall or tearing one down.

Yuji doesn't rush you. She just watches you with eyes that are wide and brimming with something you don't quite recognize—gentleness, maybe. Or patience.

You swallow hard. "I don't remember what it's like to feel... safe," you begin, voice raw, shaky. "Not since I was little. He used to come into my room at night and I never knew what mood he'd be in. If I made a sound, he'd scream. If I stayed quiet, he'd still find something to hit me for."

Yuji's expression flickers—pain rippling across her features—but she doesn't interrupt.

"I can still hear him," you continue, words pouring faster now, like the dam finally cracked. "Even now. I'll be alone, and it's like he's still here. I flinch when people walk too fast behind me. I freeze when I hear loud voices. It's like I'm back there. Like I'm eight years old again, hiding in the closet with a bloody nose, hoping he forgets about me."

Your mom is in the doorway now. Silent. Shaken. But you keep going.

"I've had nightmares every night since I was a kid. And sometimes I don't even sleep at all. Because I know I'll see him again. I'll feel it all again. I can't breathe when it happens. I wake up choking."

Yuji's voice comes out quiet but firm. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

You laugh, bitter and hollow. "Who would've listened? Who would've cared? I'm just the 'weird' girl, the one who lashes out, the one who hides in baggy clothes and pretends everything's fine."

You hug your arms around yourself. "But it's not fine. It's never been fine. I still feel him. In every mirror I pass. Every time I mess something up, I hear his voice saying I'm worthless. That no one would ever love me."

Your voice drops to a whisper. "And... I believe him."

Your mom makes a sound from behind you—small, broken. You don't turn around.

Then Yuji speaks again, gently. "Y/N... have you been hurting yourself?"

Your mom chimes in, voice trembling. "Sweetheart... please. Tell us the truth."

And that's when you move.

Silently, slowly, you lift your hoodie over your head. The sleeves stick for a moment, like they're trying to protect you from what comes next. But you pull them down.

Then your fingers go to the waistband of your sweatpants, and you lower them just enough.

The room goes silent.

Your arms are a map of pain—red and raised, pink and healing, some fresh enough that they sting in the air. Your legs, worse. Long patches of burns, darkened scars, places where your skin tells the story your mouth couldn't.

Yuji doesn't speak. She looks like someone knocked the air out of her. Your mom is crying openly now, hand over her mouth.

But you—you just sit there, exposed and numb.

Yuji's breath catches. She blinks like she's trying to make sense of what she's seeing, but nothing prepares you for the look in her eyes. It's not disgust. It's not pity. It's grief. It's a kind of heartbreak so quiet it aches.

She reaches out, but stops herself—hands hovering, trembling slightly.

"Y/N..." she says softly, voice cracking. "God, I—I didn't know. I didn't think it was like this."

Your mom sinks to her knees beside you, tears streaming down her face now. Her voice is broken when she speaks. "You've been carrying this alone... all of this... my baby..." She doesn't try to touch you, not yet. Just stares at the damage, at the reality she had only sensed in the shadows before.

You stay frozen. Not because you're scared of their reactions—you were expecting disgust, silence, maybe yelling. But this? This quiet, raw pain in their faces? It's harder to look at than anything.

Yuji lowers herself beside you and places her hand—gently, carefully—on your back.

"You didn't deserve this," she whispers. "Not what he did. Not what they're doing to you now. You didn't deserve any of it."

You blink fast, but the tears still come.

Your mom is still crying. "I knew something was wrong. I knew you were hurting, but you never let me in. I should've tried harder. I should've fought harder for you."

You finally look at her. And what you see there isn't judgment—it's regret. Devastation. Love, shaking and scared, but still love.

"I thought you'd hate me if you knew," you murmur.

Your mom reaches out, brushing a thumb under your eye. "I could never hate you. Never. I'm so sorry I didn't make you feel safe enough to tell me. That ends now. I'm not leaving you alone in this again."

Yuji nods beside you, voice steadier now. "Neither am I."

You sit there with both of them, hoodie still off, marks still visible, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you don't feel the need to cover them up. Not in shame. Not in fear. The room goes completely silent.

Yuji's hand trembles where it hovers near yours, unsure if she should touch you, hold you, or give you space. Your mom's lips part, but no sound comes out. Her eyes are wide, glassy with horror and heartbreak. She covers her mouth with one hand as the tears begin to fall freely.

No one says anything at first. Just the sound of your breathing. Unsteady. Ragged.

Yuji gently reaches out, finally placing her hand over yours, her voice barely above a whisper. "...You've been carrying this alone for so long, haven't you?"

You nod. Barely.

"I didn't know how else to make it stop," you say, your voice hollow. "Sometimes the pain inside gets so loud, and this was the only thing that made it quiet."

Your mother crumbles into quiet sobs. Yuji closes the gap between you both and pulls you into a hug—not too tight, but close enough to remind you that you're not alone. Her voice is soft in your ear.

"You don't have to hurt to be heard, Y/N. I see you now. I promise I won't look away."

And for the first time in a long time, even if the pain still lingers, you let yourself cry into her arms. —————

The hours pass slowly.

Your mom refused to leave your side. Yuji as always, didn't leave your side. They stayed with you in quiet solidarity, even when no more words were spoken.

Eventually, the scars are bandaged. Your hoodie replaced with something softer. A warm blanket. A glass of water you barely touched. You're curled up on the couch now, staring at the TV playing some old rerun you're not really watching.

Your mom is making phone calls in the other room—talking to someone about a therapist. A counselor. Support. You don't listen too hard, but the guilt weighs heavy.

Yuji sits beside you, one leg tucked under her, still quiet. Every now and then, her hand brushes against yours.

"I meant what I said earlier," she murmurs. "What you've been through... it matters. You matter. I know it's hard to believe right now, but I'm not going anywhere."

You glance at her, your eyes tired. "I don't know if I can get better."

"You don't have to figure it out tonight," she says. "Just... let us be here. That's all."

The silence hangs thick after you revealed your scars and burns—some fresh, others faded but angry-looking. Your mother stares, broken and stunned. Yuji's hand is still resting gently against your wrist, warm and grounding.

Yuji swallows hard before speaking.

"...My mom's a therapist," she says softly, eyes never leaving yours. "I haven't said anything before because I didn't want to push you, but... if you wanted to talk to someone safe—someone good—she'd help you. She's helped me."

Your eyes flicker with uncertainty, shame, a thousand things all at once. "Is that why you're not scared of me?"

Yuji's brows knit together, her expression tightening. "I was never scared of you, Y/N. I was scared for you. There's a difference."

Your mom exhales shakily beside her, wiping at her eyes. "If... if there's someone who can help her, please..." she whispers, voice cracking. "I'll do anything to get her better."

You don't respond immediately. You looks down at your arms again, your voice faint.

"I'm just tired. I don't know if I'm ready to talk. Not to anyone."

Yuji nods. "You don't have to be ready right now. But when you are—even if it's just to listen—my mom would be gentle with you."

There's a pause. Then, almost imperceptibly, you gives a small nod.

It's not a yes. But it's not a no either. ________

The soft scent of vanilla pancakes and scrambled eggs drifts up the stairs, curling into your room like something warm, something almost safe. It smells like a memory you forgot you missed. You shift slightly under the covers, still wrapped tight in the blanket. Beside you, Yuji is curled up at the edge of the bed, her head resting on a pillow she dragged from the couch. Neither of you has said much this morning—but neither of you has needed to.

"Y/N? Yuji? Breakfast is ready," your mom calls up. Her voice sounds lighter than yesterday. Hopeful.

Yuji blinks awake and sits up, hair a soft mess. "Smells really good," she mumbles, turning to you. "Hey. Wanna try eating with me?"

You hesitate. Your stomach twists in a way that has nothing to do with hunger. Just thinking about sitting at a table makes your throat go tight. But there's something soft in Yuji's voice—no pressure, no judgment—that nudges you out of bed.

"Okay," you whisper.

The two of you pad downstairs together. Her presence feels like a steady heartbeat beside you.

The kitchen is already warm. Plates are set, and your mom is placing the last golden pancake onto a plate. When she turns and sees you both, her smile wobbles at the edges—tired, emotional, but filled with love.

"Good morning, girls," she says gently. "I thought you could both use something warm today."

You sit slowly. There are pancakes, scrambled eggs, and strawberries arranged into a tiny heart on your plate. You stare at it for a long moment, something quiet stirring in your chest.

Yuji sits next to you and nudges your shoulder. "She made yours prettier than mine. I feel betrayed."

A small puff of air leaves your nose. Almost a laugh.

Your mom sits down with her own plate. "That was intentional," she says with a wink. "Yuji's got enough sweetness already."

Yuji places a dramatic hand over her heart. "You're gonna make me cry before I've had caffeine."

You don't know what to do with the warmth that fills the room. Your fingers hover over your fork. Your mom notices. So does Yuji. Neither says anything.

Then your mom leans in a little, voice low. "You don't have to finish. Just try a few bites. I'm just... really glad you're here this morning."

Your throat tightens. You look at the strawberries again, shaped into a heart like someone tried to tell you without words: you still matter.

You pick up your fork. Take one bite.

Your mom's smile grows soft and quiet.

Yuji grins. "Hey—look at that. First bite conquered. You're kinda awesome, you know that?"

You don't answer, but something in your shoulders eases. The food doesn't feel like the enemy today. For once, breakfast isn't a battlefield.

By the third bite, your mom reaches across and brushes a piece of hair from your face. "You're doing better than you think, sweetheart."

Under the table, Yuji squeezes your hand. "One step at a time, okay? You don't have to do this alone."

And for the first time in a long while, with the scent of pancakes and quiet care filling the room, something new stirs inside you.

Hope.

⸻

It's been a long time since you've gone anywhere that wasn't school, home, or the dark corners of your mind. So when your mom gently suggests a trip to the mall—just the three of you—you're surprised by the way your mouth says yes before your brain catches up.

Yuji's instantly on board. "We're doing soft girl healing errands today. It's happening."

You don't smile. Not fully. But you don't resist either.

The drive is calm. Yuji plays lo-fi beats through the Bluetooth, something gentle with a hint of nostalgia. You sit in the back seat, the sun dancing through the trees, the light brushing your face like a question you're not quite ready to answer.

The mall buzzes with life, but not in a way that overwhelms. Just enough to remind you that the world still moves. And maybe—just maybe—you can move with it.

The first stop is a boutique full of plush toys and pastel hoodies. Yuji pulls a frog bucket hat from a shelf and plops it on your head.

"This screams you."

You wrinkle your nose. "Does it scream breakdown or post-breakdown healing?"

"Both," she says proudly. "It's an exclusive vibe."

Your mom chuckles, holding up a lavender hoodie. "You always loved this color," she says. "Remember? You called it 'cloud purple.'"

You do remember.

You buy it.

Later, you're standing with a bubble tea in hand—flavor picked at random, half-expecting not to drink it. But you do. Slowly. Your mom's eyes crinkle when she sees it. Small steps. Today is full of them.

While Yuji tries on rings, you and your mom linger by a quiet fountain. The trickle of water muffles the noise of the mall.

"I'm proud of you," she says gently. "You don't have to smile. I just wanted you to know... this matters. You matter."

You look down at your cup. "I almost didn't come."

"But you did."

That's all she says. That's all she needs to.

Yuji returns, waving three matching bracelets. "We're a soft, chaotic girl gang now," she announces.

You wear yours without complaint.

The sun is setting by the time you reach the car, casting the sky in soft pinks and gold. You let yourself feel it—the way the light touches your skin. It's not everything. It doesn't fix the past.

But it's something.

⸻

The ride home is quiet. Bags rustle gently at your feet, and one of Yuji's new hoodies is draped over your shoulders. She holds your hand lightly between hers.

When the car stops in the driveway, you hesitate.

"I... I had a good time today," you say quietly.

Yuji squeezes your hand. "You deserve days like this."

Inside, the house feels... different. Warmer. Not in temperature, but in energy. Safer. You kick off your shoes, your eyes scanning the living room like you're seeing it for the first time.

You settle on the couch together, wrapped in blankets. A comfort movie plays in the background, and you rest your head on Yuji's shoulder. Not quite asleep. Not quite awake.

Your mom peeks in from the kitchen. She doesn't say anything. Just watches for a moment—then goes to make tea.

That night, Yuji stays over again. No big talk. Just quiet companionship and the sound of blankets shifting in the dark. You lie facing the wall, eyes open, but you're not alone. And for now, that's enough.

⸻

You wake early. The ceiling above you is familiar and unfamiliar all at once. The weekend clings to you like smoke. But you get up anyway.

Downstairs, your mom's packing lunches. She smiles when she sees you. Soft. Encouraging.

"Oatmeal or toast?"

"Oatmeal," you say. Your voice barely cracks.

You finish most of it.

The ride to school feels heavier. You sit frozen in the passenger seat, hand gripping your bag like it's the only thing keeping you grounded.

Yuji leans over, resting her hand on your arm.

"We're walking in together," she says. "You're not alone."

You swallow. Nod once.

And when you step through those school doors, it's side by side.

Together. ________ From the moment you step onto school grounds, the whispers begin.

"There she is."

"Thought she ran away for good."

"She probably just wanted attention."

You heard it all. You don't flinch, don't react. Your stare is locked straight ahead, and Yuji walks with a quiet fire in her eyes, daring anyone to say more.

But it gets worse in the hallway. One girl leans against a locker, arms crossed.

"Guess she crawled back."

"Yeah, rehab must've been full," another sneers.

Yuji turns, jaw tight, but you grab her wrist, shaking your head. "Don't," you mutter.

You and Yuji make it to homeroom, but the air feels charged. The teacher doesn't even acknowledge you. And when you answer a question, someone coughs, "Try not to overdose again."

That gets laughter.

It's suffocating. And it doesn't stop.

At lunch, a girl throws an empty juice box near their table. "Oops," she says, not sounding sorry.

You stay still. The burn in her stomach feels familiar.

Yuji finally snaps. "What the hell is wrong with you people?"

No one answers. They just smirk and walk away.

You grip your tray, breathing through your nose. Trying not to break.

Lunch is over

The hallway feels colder than usual.

Forth period

It's not the temperature—it's the way eyes shift in your direction the moment you stepped into the hallway. The way whispers start just barely out of earshot. The way some people nudge their friends and snicker when they think you're not looking.

You keeps your head down.

Yuji walks beside you, chin high, daring anyone to say something. She doesn't speak—not yet—but her presence is loud in its loyalty.

You both reach your locker. The writing from last week has been scrubbed off. The faintest shadow of marker still lingers on the metal, like a scar that didn't fully heal.

You stare at it longer than you need to. You don't open it.

"Do you want me to get your books?" Yuji asks softly.

You nod. "Just the fourth period one."

Yuji opens the locker and begins collecting what you need. Behind them, laughter rises from a small group. It's not directed at them—not yet—but your shoulders still tense.

You glance down the hall, past the noise, past the teachers chatting quietly near the faculty room, past everything. There's an odd sense of distance, like you're watching life from the other side of a window.

And then—you hear it.

A low voice from behind you.

"I thought she wasn't coming back."

You freeze.

Yuji spins around immediately, but the group is already gone—whoever said it vanished into the crowd. You don't react. You just close your locker.

"Let's go," you muttered.

Yuji opens her mouth to say something, but closes it again. She just follows you toward your last class of the day.

And somewhere in the building, a counselor watches from a windowed office above the hall. Mrs. Honey, her expression unreadable but alert.

Your first day back after everything , and already it feels heavier than it should.

Maybe you should have stayed home another day if this was what you were going to be dealing with. ________

Your last class of the day, History class, and you're already over everything today. I mean of course you didn't expect everyone to have a change of heart or anything but damn did it feel like everyone just despises you more than they did before.

But it didn't matter, 30 minutes until the bell rings and you didn't have to see anybody else's face for the rest of the day. You wondered why the time was going so slow, maybe if you'd stop looking at it then maybe it would go by faster.

Great, now you have to pee... again. The whole day you've been denied bathroom access, not because the teachers are worried or anything, they couldn't care less about you honestly. But just like all of your peers, the teachers also want to torture you for no reason.

But you really need to go, so why not try your luck with Mr. Bae.

You raised your hand, Yuji took her focus from her notebook and looked at you. Since having all of your classes with her, she was aware of how all of the teachers were being complete assholes to you and wouldn't let you use the bathroom. So, seeing you raise your hand again has only gotten her anxious that you might be denied again.

Mr. Bae now starting his stretch, notice your raised hand and...

Ignored it.

Of fucking course he did!

Not only did you roll your eyes in frustration but Yuji sighed in defeat, she truly over everything today just as much as you were.

While both you and Yuji were sitting at your desks annoying, Mrs. Honey came in. She been checking on you all day, unlike anyone else at this fuck ass school.

Mr. Bae looks at Mrs. Honey confused, and so did everyone else. Why in the hell would she be checking on you, or to be a bit more specific, why would she give a fuck about you, no one else in this school does, so why does she?

"Hi sweetheart, I'm just checking on you, is everything going okay. Do you need anything?"

As you stared into Mrs. Honey eyes, you didn't see hate, distain, or resentment. You saw empathy, care, and love, it made you feel a little better.

"I have to use the bathroom really bad" you whispered to Mrs. Honey, trying not to talk loudly, avoiding to draw anymore attention to yourself.

"Did you raise your hand sweetie?" You nodded your head to Mrs. Honey's question. At first she was confused, but then the look in your eyes and the irritation on Yuji's face when the question was asked told her everything she needed to know.

You saw Mrs. Honey's jaw had tightened as she took a deep shaky breath before her gaze softened as she looked at you. "Go ahead go sweetheart, I got you. And how about I let you two spend the rest of the period with me instead of in here okay? And tomorrow you both can spend the whole day with me, away from everyone else, how does that sound?"

You looked at Yuji, who happened to be nodding her head hastily with relief written all over her face. You let out a tiny laugh and softly nodded at Mrs. Honey.

She smiles and nods. "Good, why don't you run along to the bathroom, Yuji and I will get your stuff, okay?" You nodded in response and quickly turned to walk out of the classroom with everyone else giving you dirty looks.

You ran down the hall, mind fully set on getting into one of those bathroom stalls, running past open door classrooms not caring if anyone saw zooming down the hallway.

Then, you finally made it. You pull the girls bathroom door open and rush in, going into the first stall that was closest to you.

Relief spread throughout your body as a huge sigh escaped from your lips.

Then, you heard the door to the girls bathroom open. At first you thought it was Yuji checking on you, but you soon heard voices and realized that it was a couple of girls that entered the bathroom.

One girl starts talking, "Honestly? She's like one breakdown away from just snapping and murdering everyone. The bitch is seriously fucked up mentally, it's pathetic really."

"I know right. Like girl you're a walking embarrassment to everyone, just a goddamn waste of space."

"I honestly feel like she just wants attention from everyone. Probably because knows that no one isn't gonna love her sorry ass."

"Exactly, and you know what? I guarantee that both her mom and Yuji secretly hate her ass to the core. Because there is no way they both actually want to put up with her bullshit."

"Omg, you took the words right out of my mouth. And did you guys see her mom's state during that whole spiral that the bitch had? You can tell that she just tired of her ass and wants her gone for good, I know I would."

The girls all collectively laugh together in unison before leaving the bathroom.

All you can do is just sit there and stare at the stall door blankly.

You just sit there. Feeling everyone molecule of their words crawl under her skin like insects. Nesting.

"They're right." "Everyone is tired of me." "Yuji. Mom. Everyone." "I'm nothing but a fucking disappointment to everyone."

God, if only you had a lighter or a razor right now, but you don't. All you could do was put your hand under your sleeve and sink your nails into your skin, breaking it.

You need to feel something. You have to feel something. —————— You knock on Mrs. Honey's office door. You're greeted by Yuji as she gives you a big smile, but it soon dropped when she saw your face.

"Babes you okay? What happened?" Yuji bombarded you with questions as you walked past her and into the office.

Mrs.Honey, who's attention was now set on you as she watched you slowly sit down in the chair whilst staring at the floor, not even acknowledging them.

"Come on sweetheart is everything—."

"Headache," you cut her off.

"Well, do you want to—."

"No."

Your voice sharp. Flat. Final. It slices the room in half.

Yuji takes a step back, heart sinking. Mrs. Honey just nods slowly, eyes lingering on you like she already knows it's not just a headache. ————— The final bell rang. At last. School was over.

Yuji had offered you a ride.

Twice.

You said no both times. You didn't even give a reason. Just shook your head and walked away.

Now, you're walking home. Alone.

Your headphones are in, but there's no music playing. You just like the silence it gives you — like muting the world.

The streets blur past. Your legs move on their own, muscle memory guiding you while your thoughts drag like dead weight.

Your mind replays the bathroom. The laughter. The names. The tone in their voices when they talked about your mom. Yuji.

"They're tired of you." "She hates you." "They all do."

You tighten your grip on your backpack strap. Nails digging in. Flesh pressing red.

A part of you wishes someone would just stop you. Ask if you're okay. Touch your shoulder. Say your name.

But no one does. No one ever does.

The world just... keeps moving. And you just keep walking. A ghost in your own life. —————— You arrived home but you noticed that your mom wasn't there. You shrugged it off.

After unlocking your front door, you enter your house. The lights are off. It's quiet.

You push yourself into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Leaning against the kitchen counter, you just look around. Then you notice it. The alcohol cabinet.

Then you remember that night. The party. That god forsaken party.

Then you remember how you felt after a couple of sips of the alcohol you consumed that night. You remembered how good it felt. How the thought died down. How the weight of everything was lifted up off of you. How the alcohol helped you let go of everything.

You got the key from the drawer. The cabinet was now unlocked. The cup you had that was filled with water was now filled with the liquor you pulled out.

You took a sip. Scrunching up your face as the bitter taste and burning sensation fill your mouth and throat. You exhale. Took another sip. Then another. And another.

Your cup is empty. You fill it up. And you take another sip. It's working. It's all going away. —————— 3:43 a.m.

You woke up on the floor in your bathroom. You felt heavy. Everything felt so slow around you. Your body ached.

4 large empty bottles that were filled with vodka, were now surrounding you. Empty.

The headache you lied about yesterday was definitely there now. Pounding. Stabbing. You can't even think straight. Or even at all.

Your mouth felt as if you had been stranded in the desert for days. Your room is spinning, it's like as if you're riding a carousel inside of it. Your room is cool, but it felt like you just ran a marathon from how sweaty you were.

You feel something in your stomach. Wait. It's coming up. Oh no.

You quickly crawl to your toilet, nearly missing it as soon as it all comes out. In faint light, you can see a yellowish foamy fluid with slight red streaks where your clear toilet water used to be. Your nose and throat burning intensely, immediately irritating you.

And that taste. That god awful sour taste. It filled your mouth. And you hated it.

Your limbs felt weak. You felt like crying, but you felt too numb to even do so. Nothing could possibly compare to how drained you felt. Or how raw and sore your chest and throat felt.

You hate how you're feeling right now. "I ruin everything." "No wonder everyone wants me gone." "It's all my fucking fault." The thought came back. Fuck.

Is this how it feels after drinking so much. If so, it sucks. But goddamn did it feel good when those couple of sips sunk in. When the thoughts went away. When everyone felt easier. When you felt...free.

If this is what it takes to just let go, then fuck it. Let it happen. As long as the baggage you felt was lifted. You're completely okay with it. ——————

It's 7:45 a.m. and you're currently in the car with your mom, on your way to school. With your book bag in between your feet and a big metal cup filled with your...water.

You're wearing a huge black hoodie, grey sweats, converses, and sunglasses to hide how tired you were.

"Honey you alright? You seem—."

"I'm fine," you interrupted.

Your mom didn't push further.

Your mom pulled over. You turned your head and saw that you were in front of your school. You could've sworn that you were just in front of your house about to pull off. Who cares.

You grabbed your bag, with your cup still in your hands and got out of the car, shutting door at your mom tried to say goodbye.

You walked up slowly to the school front doors. Taking a deep breath before opening them and stepping inside.

As usual, you're greeted with stares of disgust, hatred, and hostility. You don't care. You went to find Yuji.

As you made your way down the hallway, with stares burning every part of your body. You take a sip. Then another. Another.

Deep breath. There it goes. The peace is almost here.

As you went to turn the corner, you bump into Ateez. They look at you for a moment before Yunho breaks the silence.

"Sup Y/N, what with the sunglasses? And what's in the huge cup?"

"Why? What's it to you?"

"Hey relax, I just wanted to know." Yunho chuckled as he jokingly held his hands up.

Out of nowhere both Yeosang and Jongho walked up to you and crouched slightly to your height level.

And a soon as they did, they looked at each other then turned and looked at the rest of Ateez.

Hongjoong was studying you, he knew something was up. Same goes for Seonghwa who stood right next to him.

Wooyoung and San both looked at each other, your demeanor and tone made them feel uneasy.

Yunho and Mingi were smiling before, now held slight worry on their faces. But they could show it, not I front of you.

None of them could show it. They still had to try and play up the act that they still hated you. Despised you. Wanted the utter worst for you.

"Can you move?" You spat. You were already irritated, the vodka is setting in but at least you felt peace, that's all you ever wanted, and you're getting it.

You exhaled roughly and pushed past them, walking off as you continued to look for Yuji. As you kept walking, you ran into the girls who humiliated you at the party, the same girls who said those things about you yesterday.

When they saw you they didn't even try to hold in their laughter. You stood there as they laughed and whispered about you. When they were past you, you brought your cup to your mouth and chugged.

You took a huge breath and was about to start walking again when you heard Yuji called your name. You turned around and saw Yuji running up to you. And right behind her, you saw Ateez still standing where they were, looking at you.

"Hey babes, how are you feeling?"

You paused for a moment. Your vision is starting to get a little blurry.

"I feel fucking amazing," You giggled.

Yuji smiles, she's happy to see you laugh today. God if she only knew.

"C'mon Ji, let's walk." You throwing you around her, smiling widely as she giggles and does the same. As soon as you take your first step you stumble, but you quickly play it off.

As you and Yuji walk past Ateez, they watch you. You looked at them and take another sip of your...water. Eventually fading out of their sight.

ATEEZ's POV "Yeosang, what was the problem?" Hongjoong demanded anxiously.

"Her eyes hyung...she looked so fucking tired."

"That's not all," Jongho added while looking at his feet.

"What is it Jongie?" Ateez said in unison.

"That isn't water," Jongho muttered, eyes still fixed on the spot she stood. "It's vodka. I smelled it when she passed."

Silence. The kind that squeezes your chest.

Mingi ran a hand down his face. "Fuck."

——————— You told Yuji that you had to go to the bathroom.

The bell had rung twenty minutes ago, but you never made it to class.

You were locked in the far end girls' bathroom on the second floor — the one nobody ever used because the lights flickered and the stalls were rusted and uneven.

You sat against the wall, legs splayed out, hoodie pulled over your head, your big metal cup now tipped over and empty beside you.

You giggled to yourself at first.

Then cried.

Then passed out.

Your phone buzzed against your leg. Yuji had texted you twice. "Where are you??" "You okay??"

But you didn't respond. Couldn't.

⸻

Some time passed. The door creaked open.

Footsteps.

Then silence.

And then — a sharp click.

A photo.

Followed by a snicker.

One of the girls walks up to you and picks up your cup. Bringing it up to her nose, and getting a whiff of what use to be inside.

"Wow," one of the girls whispered. "Guess vodka really is her breakfast."

Another laugh. "Send that to the group chat."

Your head lolled to the side, face flushed, hair stuck to your cheek. Your eyes barely fluttered open, lips parted in a daze, not fully conscious but not fully gone either.

"Should we, like... tell someone?"

A pause. Then laughter.

"Let the bitch rot. Maybe next time she won't run her mouth."

And just like that — the door closed. Their footsteps disappeared.

Leaving you alone on the cold tile floor.

Face-down in a puddle of your own peace. —————— 3rd Period

It started with a ding. Then another. And another.

The group chat blew up. "LMAO LOOK AT THIS" "She's PASSED OUT???" "Omg she's literally disgusting 💀" "Her cup's EMPTY TOO?? Yeah that's vodka." "Tragic." "Send it to the main chat." "Already did."

Within minutes, your photo was everywhere.

Your body slumped against that dirty bathroom wall. Your head tilted back, lips parted, eyes half-shut. Hair a mess. Hoodie bunched at your waist. Cup spilled beside you like the scene of a crime.

No context. No mercy. Just you, immortalized at your lowest.

Screens lit up across classrooms. Laughter filled corners of the hallways.

People zoomed in. Added captions. Made memes.

"Y/N before 9 a.m. 😍🍸" "Bitches be like: 'I'm fine' ☕️" "New yearbook photo just dropped 💅"

Some people didn't even know who you were, but it didn't matter. Your name trended on school threads. A few even shared it to private Instagram stories.

Yuji got it next.

She was sitting in class, trying to focus. But her phone buzzed, and when she looked down—

Her stomach dropped.

She froze. Blinking at the screen. That was you.

"Fuck," she whispered.

Before the teacher could stop her, she shot up and grabbed her phone, heart pounding.

She bolted.

⸻

Meanwhile

Ateez saw it too.

Mingi's jaw clenched as the photo loaded on his screen.

Wooyoung stopped mid-laugh when he saw it. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Yunho leaned back in his chair, silent.

Jongho just stared at the photo. He didn't even blink.

Yeosang was the first to speak. "She's passed out drunk in a bathroom and they're laughing?"

Seonghwa stood up without a word.

And Hongjoong... Hongjoong's hands curled into fists beneath the desk.

He didn't say anything.

But his eyes never left the photo. ————— Lunchtime.

The photo was everywhere now.

AirDropped. Screenshotted. Filtered. Edited.

And not just passed around in private messages anymore—now it was public.

A meme account with over 3,000 followers reposted it with the caption:

"When she says she's 'just tired' 💀" Tagged: #WastedWednesday #SchoolCelebrity

It got 127 likes in the first ten minutes. Comments poured in.

"Is she dead or just dramatic?" "That's what happens when you have no friends." "LMAOOOOO" "I just KNOW she stinks." "Y'all sure that's not a mugshot??"

A few people even went to that second-floor bathroom on purpose, just to peek in, just to say they saw you. A couple walked in, took a video of your unconscious body, whispered commentary over it like it was a zoo exhibit.

"There she is in her natural habitat." "Someone get this girl some water—oh wait, she drank it all." "Bitch brought a Stanley Cup of vodka like it was a fashion statement 😭"

The video? It got posted too.

⸻

Back in Classrooms...

Even students who didn't know you were now watching the video of you slumped in that stall, your cup spilled, face flushed, completely unaware of the swarm outside.

Someone edited the video with TikTok sounds. Someone else added fake subtitles. Someone used your face as a reaction sticker in Discord.

You became a joke across multiple platforms.

⸻

Yuji was spiraling.

She had gone to the bathroom. She found you. She screamed for help. But help was slow. People were too busy watching their screens to actually move.

She was crying, shaking you, holding your head in her lap while students outside the bathroom door whispered and giggled.

And when someone tried to take a picture again—she lost it.

"DELETE IT!" she screamed, lunging at the girl holding the phone. "SHE'S NOT A FUCKING JOKE!"

But it was too late.

You already were.

⸻

Ateez saw it all unfolding.

Mingi stormed out of the cafeteria. San cursed under his breath and slammed his phone on the table. Wooyoung threatened someone who laughed too loud. Yeosang had gone completely silent, fists clenched under the table. Seonghwa looked like he was going to break something. Jongho had already walked out. Yunho couldn't even look at anyone.

And Hongjoong...?

Hongjoong stared down at the video.

His jaw tight. Eyes dark. Cold rage building behind them.

"She thinks we hate her," he muttered.

And then he stood.

"We let her believe it too long." ————— You Were a Headline.

Not just in the school. Not just in the group chats. But on Burn Book—the anonymous confessions page every student followed but pretended they didn't.

Someone posted your photo with a new caption:

"Guess who's passed out in the haunted-ass 2nd floor bathroom 💅🍸" #VodkaQueen #FaceDownFriday #RIPToHerLiver

Another post followed:

"She always acts like she's too good for everyone. Now look at her—slumped like a failed influencer."

And then—

The Photoshop edits started.

Your body was cropped onto a concert stage. A bottle of Grey Goose was edited into your hand. A toilet crown on your head. A club background behind your stall.

"She's not drunk. She's just manifesting." "She's auditioning for Euphoria season 4."

The students laughed. Teachers had no clue. Staff looked the other way.

⸻

By 4th Period... It Was Teachers Too.

You weren't there, of course. You were in the nurse's office, barely coherent, half-asleep on that awful plastic cot. Yuji had stayed with you for a while, until they made her go back to class.

But in one classroom down the hall, a teacher left their laptop open. Burn Book was up.

A few students giggled and pointed.

The teacher didn't say a word. Didn't report the page. Didn't even close the tab.

⸻

Someone printed your photo. Full size. Taped it to the inside of your locker.

Someone else wrote across it in red Sharpie:

"Maybe drink less and cry more, freak."

And just two lockers down, someone filmed themselves slapping the photo, posted it with the caption:

"Me every time she talks in class."

It went viral within the school. Other schools started seeing it. People you didn't even know were commenting.

"Someone get her an Uber to rehab." "Is she okay? Wait—, who cares." "LMFAOOO who let her cook this hard?"

⸻

And then—

Your mom got a call.

Not from the nurse.

From a parent, who saw the video through her kid's feed.

Your mom froze. Then called you. You didn't pick up.

She left work. Started driving to the school.

⸻

And Ateez?

They were watching it spread in real time.

Hongjoong's fists were shaking under the table. Seonghwa's nails dug into his palm. Mingi couldn't stop pacing. San and Wooyoung looked like they were ready to fight someone. Yeosang and Jongho had already started looking for the girls who posted it. Yunho... was just quiet.

The last thing Hongjoong said before they all stood up at once:

"They wanna humiliate her?"

"Fine. Let's make them regret it." —————— You Were a Meme.

Not just a Burn Book post. Not just some inside joke. But a circulating image, sent in group chats, school discords, Twitter accounts with anime pfps and burner usernames.

The original caption evolved. Now it read:

"When your GPA is a 1.2 but the vodka's a 10."

Someone added music. Slowed + reverb audio of "Habits (Stay High)" played over the picture. Overlayed with glitch effects. A slow zoom into your face—cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted, eyes barely open.

The post spread to other schools in the area. Then city-wide. Then beyond.

⸻

"Is this that girl from Aurora High School?" "Bro we don't even go there and WE know about her." "LMFAOOOO she's from MY cousin's school wtf 💀"

Someone edited your photo into a fake concert poster:

Y/N: The Wasted Tour 2025 "Performing live in a bathroom stall near you."

⸻

TikTok Got a Hold of It.

Edits. Soundbites. Fake interviews.

One person wore a hoodie and sunglasses and pretended to be you:

"Hey guys, I just wanted to say... don't mix vodka with mental instability. Unless you want to trend by 4th period."

It hit 100K views in three hours.

And then the comments flooded in:

"She really thought she ate... but she blacked out instead 💀" "Is she in the hospital or just on timeout?" "That's a cry for help wrapped in a hoodie and regret."

⸻

And Then Came The Hate Pages.

A spam account named @yn_slumped posted every version of the photo they could find.

People sent in anonymous stories about you. Most of them were lies. Some were exaggerated. Others were just cruel.

"She tried to fight my friend over a guy." "She hooked up with someone in the janitor's closet." "She's always drunk. I'm not surprised." "She deserves it. You should've heard what she said about people."

The comment sections were filled with laughing emojis. People liked the cruelty. They shared it. Made it grow.

⸻

And the worst part?

You didn't know yet.

You were still in the nurse's office. Still half-asleep. Still groggy. Still whispering things that didn't make sense. Still asking for Yuji when no one answered.

Your mom was minutes away. She had no idea what was really going on.

But Ateez did. Yuji did. And a storm was coming. —————— You sat slumped in the nurse's office.

The room was still spinning. Your skin felt cold, but you were sweating. There was a dull ache behind your eyes, and your mouth tasted like metal and regret.

Your hoodie was still on. Your sunglasses were somewhere on the nurse's desk. And your metal cup? That was long gone.

The nurse—an older woman with short graying hair—had tried to ask you questions earlier. But when you mumbled something about "bathroom floor" and "water that burned," she just sighed and called your emergency contact.

And now... You heard the front door open.

Then—

"Y/N?"

Your mom's voice. Soft. Tired. Confused.

You didn't look up.

She stepped inside the room. Stopped. Stared.

Her eyes flicked to the nurse, who gave a look that said we'll talk later. Then she turned back to you.

"C'mon baby," she whispered. "Let's get you home."

⸻

The Car Ride Was Silent.

The kind of silence that wasn't peaceful—just heavy. You stared out the window. Your mom kept glancing at you, but she didn't say anything.

Not yet.