Milky’s

⌕ Inside Milky’s

˖⁺‧₊☘︎ 18+ BTS Fanfiction

˖⁺‧₊☘︎ Smut

˖⁺‧₊☘︎ One-Shots & Multi-Chapter Series

˖⁺‧₊☘︎ Slow Burn

˖⁺‧₊☘︎ Angst

˖⁺‧₊☘︎ Fluff & Hurt/Comfort

˖⁺‧₊☘︎ BTS x Reader

☘︎ ☘︎ ☘︎

⌕ A Little Note

This blog is still just beginning, so you won’t find any finished one shots or series just yet.

I’m currently pouring all of my time into writing my very first multi-chapter series. I’m taking my time with it because I want the story to be something I’m genuinely proud of before sharing it with all of you.

The drafts keep getting longer, the playlists are permanently on repeat, and the characters have completely taken over my mind.

I can’t wait to finally introduce you to the world I’ve been creating, and I truly hope it’ll be worth the wait.

☘︎ The prologue is out and available at the end of this post!

If you’re here before my first upload… thank you. It means so much knowing there are already people supporting this little dream of mine.

☘︎ ☘︎ ☘︎

⌕ Before You Wander

This is an 18+ blog.

Many of my stories contain explicit sexual content, mature themes, and topics intended for adult readers only. If you’re under the age of 18, I’d kindly ask that you don’t interact with my work.

Everything shared here is entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. My stories do not reflect the real personalities, relationships, or private lives of the BTS members. I have nothing but admiration and respect for them as artists, and this blog is simply a creative outlet inspired by the comfort and happiness they’ve brought into my life.

Above all, I want this to be a kind and welcoming space.

Whether you’re here to binge-read a series at two in the morning, scream with me over a cliffhanger, leave feedback after finishing a chapter, or quietly enjoy my stories from the sidelines—you’ll always be welcome here.

My inbox is always open if you’d like to chat, leave feedback, or simply say hello. Requests will open and close depending on my schedule, so keep an eye out for updates.

☘︎ ☘︎ ☘︎

Now, make yourself comfortable.

Find your favorite blanket, make yourself a warm drink, and stay for as long as you’d like.

I hope this little library of mine becomes a place you’ll look forward to visiting.

☘︎ ☘︎ ☘︎ ☘︎ ☘︎ ☘︎ ☘︎

With love,

Milky ☘︎

☘︎ ──────────────────── ☘︎

The walk through the park had stirred memories that were equal parts comforting and painful—memories that would forever remain frozen in the past.

As you crossed the street toward the entrance of your apartment building, you noticed your suitcases were no longer where you had left them. Someone had carefully moved them just inside the small entryway, away from the sidewalk and the lingering afternoon heat.

You paused for a moment, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

It was such a small gesture, yet it filled you with an unexpected sense of warmth. You had missed this quiet consideration—the unspoken kindness people showed one another, even in the smallest of ways. No one had taken your belongings. Instead, a stranger had simply made sure they were safe until you returned.

Still lost in your thoughts, you stepped inside the apartment building, immediately welcomed by the cool air conditioning—a welcome contrast to the heavy midsummer heat waiting outside.

You rolled your suitcases across the polished floor toward the elevator. Once inside, you pressed the button for the fourth floor and watched the doors slide shut.

The building itself wasn't particularly large. Six stories, with only four apartments on each floor. It was quiet, save for the soft hum of the elevator as it climbed steadily upward.

A gentle chime announced your arrival. The doors slid open, revealing a clean, brightly lit hallway.

You wheeled your suitcases toward your apartment, stopping in front of the familiar door. The landlord had mentioned that once you had settled in, you could change the keypad code to something easier to remember. For now, the temporary code was still fresh in your mind, and so you pressed the digits just as you had memorized.

A soft beep confirmed you had entered the code correctly. The lock clicked, and the door eased open just enough for you to catch your first glimpse of the apartment beyond.

You didn't step inside. Instead, you found yourself standing there for a moment, one hand still resting on the handle.

This was it.

The place where your new life would begin.

After seven years away from the country you had always called home, you had finally found your way back.

Home.

The word settled quietly in your mind, carrying a warmth you hadn't realized you had been searching for all this time.

Taking a slow breath, you finally stepped across the threshold, quietly closing the door behind you. The soft click of the lock echoed through the apartment before fading into silence, leaving you alone with the unfamiliar space that would now become your home.

It was exactly as the pictures had shown. A modest apartment with a small entrance opening into a bright living room where the afternoon sunlight streamed through wide windows, painting long golden shapes across the wooden floor. The furniture was simple but well maintained—a gray sofa facing a low coffee table, a dining table tucked neatly beside the kitchen, and shelves that stood completely empty, waiting to be filled. Nothing about the apartment felt particularly luxurious, yet something about its simplicity immediately put you at ease.

You slipped off your shoes, instinctively placing them beside the entrance before slowly wandering through each room. The apartment still carried the faint scent of fresh paint mixed with the clean, almost sterile smell of a place that had remained unoccupied for some time. It felt unfamiliar, but not uncomfortable. Rather, it reminded you that no one else's memories lingered within these walls. Whatever laughter, tears, celebrations or quiet evenings this place would one day witness had yet to happen.

The bedroom overlooked the street below, offering a clear view of the tops of the trees lining Bonghwang Park. Even from this distance, watching their branches sway gently beneath the warm summer breeze brought an unexpected sense of comfort. You found yourself lingering by the window for a few moments before quietly drawing the curtains halfway shut, allowing the late afternoon sunlight to continue spilling into the room.

Only then did you return to the living room, where your two suitcases still stood patiently in the middle of the floor. Unzipping the first one, you began placing your belongings where they belonged, hanging clothes inside the wardrobe, stacking books neatly onto the shelves and arranging the few kitchen utensils your mother had insisted you bring into cupboards that looked almost too large for the amount you owned.

The more you unpacked, the more you realized how little of your life had actually followed you back to Korea. A few changes of clothes. A laptop. Several books you had reread more times than you could count. Two mugs. A handful of personal belongings collected over the years. Once everything had been put away, half the wardrobe remained empty, while most of the shelves and cupboards still looked as though they had never been touched.

It had taken less than half an hour to unpack nearly seven years of your life.

The thought lingered quietly in the back of your mind as you folded the now-empty suitcases closed. For so many years, you had imagined returning home with countless stories, friendships and memories gathered from the life you had built abroad. Instead, it seemed as though you had come back carrying little more than the necessities.

As you reached into the second suitcase one last time to make sure nothing had been left behind, your fingers brushed against a small metal box tucked carefully beneath a folded sweater.

You frowned slightly.

You didn't remember packing it. Yet the moment your eyes fell on the small metal box, you knew exactly what it contained before you had even lifted the lid.

Time had left its mark on it. The once pale blue paint had faded in places, exposing the dull metal beneath, while tiny scratches covered the surface, each one a reminder of years spent forgotten at the back of a cupboard. An old sticker bearing your initials was still clinging to the lid, its edges curled and yellowed with age.

Your fingertips brushed gently over the worn paper, absentmindedly smoothing its creases before unclipping the small latch.

The familiar metallic click echoed softly through the apartment.

Inside lay fragments of a childhood you hadn't realized had been carefully preserved all this time.

There was a friendship bracelet, its once vibrant threads now faded and brittle with age. You smiled as you picked it up, remembering how the three of you had spent an entire afternoon sitting beneath the trees in Bonghwang Park trying to braid matching bracelets for one another. None of you had known what you were doing. Eunji had somehow managed to tangle nearly every thread, while Jungkook had grown impatient halfway through and declared that his looked "abstract." Yours had been the only one that looked remotely like a bracelet.

A quiet laugh escaped your lips at the memory.

Beside it rested a tiny keychain shaped like a sleeping cat. The little charm had lost some of its paint over the years, but it was unmistakably the same one Jungkook had proudly handed you after school, insisting that spending nearly all of his allowance on it had been worth it because it would bring you good luck. You had tried to refuse, knowing how little pocket money he received, but he had stubbornly crossed his arms and told you that lucky charms only worked if they were given away.

You wondered if he still believed things like that.

Carefully setting the keychain aside, your attention drifted to a slightly bent class photograph tucked beneath the other keepsakes.

You lifted it from the box, smiling as soon as you looked at it.

There you were, standing shoulder to shoulder with Eunji in the front row, both of you grinning so widely that your eyes had nearly disappeared. Jungkook wasn't in the picture, of course. Being a few years older than the two of you, he had already moved on to middle school by then. Even so, you remembered how he had insisted on walking the two of you home after classes whenever his own schedule allowed, claiming that someone had to make sure you didn't get yourselves into trouble.

Whether he had actually believed that or had simply enjoyed pretending to be the responsible one, you had never been quite sure.

A soft chuckle escaped you as you traced the edge of the photograph with your thumb before carefully placing it back inside the box.

There were a few other keepsakes tucked away beneath it—small trinkets whose stories had long since faded from your memory. You looked through them one by one, hoping they might awaken another forgotten moment, but they remained little more than quiet reminders of a childhood that had slipped gently beyond your reach.

With everything unpacked—though the apartment still felt far too empty to truly look lived in—you found yourself wondering whether the neighborhood still felt the same after sunset as it had when you were a child.

Did the warm glow of the streetlamps still flicker to life one by one as evening settled over the streets?

Did the elderly couple who owned the little restaurant still slip extra servings of tteokbokki onto the plates of neighborhood children when they thought no one was looking?

Did the convenience store down the street still blast those wonderfully awful old trot songs through its speakers?

And did your old elementary school still stand behind the same weathered yellow brick walls that had once seemed impossibly tall?

The thought lingered only for a moment before you found yourself reaching for your phone to check the time. It was only a little after seven. The sun had yet to disappear beneath the horizon, bathing the neighborhood in the warm amber light of a summer evening. You had nothing waiting for you inside the apartment, and the silence that had felt comforting only minutes ago was beginning to remind you just how alone you were.

Perhaps a walk would do you some good.

After slipping your wallet and keys into your pocket, you locked the apartment behind you and made your way downstairs. The air that greeted you outside was still warm, though the oppressive heat of the afternoon had begun to soften into something far more pleasant. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves of the trees lining the street, carrying with it the familiar scents of dinner being prepared in nearby homes and restaurants.

You had forgotten how alive Korean neighborhoods became in the evening.

People who had spent the day indoors slowly emerged as the temperature cooled. Elderly residents occupied the benches outside the apartment buildings, chatting with neighbors they had probably known for decades. Office workers made their way home with tired expressions, ties loosened and jackets draped over one arm. Children darted through the sidewalks on scooters and bicycles, their laughter echoing between the buildings while parents called after them to stay close.

You couldn't remember the last time you had walked through a neighborhood that felt so... lived in.

Without really deciding where to go, your feet carried you along streets that had once been as familiar as your own bedroom. Some buildings had changed beyond recognition, replaced by newer apartment complexes and cafés with modern storefronts. Others looked almost untouched, as though time had somehow forgotten about them.

The little stationery shop where you and Eunji used to spend far too much time comparing colorful pens was gone. In its place stood a minimalist flower shop, its windows decorated with carefully arranged bouquets that spilled onto the sidewalk. You paused for a moment, trying to picture where the old shelves had once stood, but the memory refused to match what stood before you now.

A few streets farther, you slowed your pace again.

The restaurant was still there.

Its wooden sign had been replaced, and the faded orange awning you remembered had given way to a newer one, but the familiar smell of simmering broth drifted through the open doorway exactly as it always had. You found yourself peering inside almost instinctively.

The elderly couple was gone.

In their place stood a younger man and woman, moving quickly between the kitchen and the dining room while greeting customers with practiced smiles. You wondered if they were the couple's children, quietly carrying on the family business after their parents had finally decided to retire.

For a brief moment, you remembered the old woman pretending not to notice whenever Jungkook convinced the three of you to share a single bowl of tteokbokki because none of you had enough pocket money to order your own. She would always disappear into the kitchen, only to return a few minutes later with extra rice cakes she insisted had been "left over."

Looking back now, you doubted there had ever been any leftovers.

A smile found its way onto your face as you continued walking.

The convenience store at the corner, however, hadn't changed nearly as much. The bright signs above the entrance had been replaced with newer ones, but the familiar melody drifting through the open doors made you laugh under your breath.

Somehow, they were still playing old trot songs.

Some things, it seemed, refused to change.

Your stomach chose that moment to remind you that you hadn't eaten since arriving. A quiet growl escaped it, almost as if the sight of the convenience store had awakened not only old memories, but the same hunger that always seemed to claw at your stomach after long afternoons spent running around the neighborhood as a child.

The familiar chime echoed softly as you stepped through the automatic doors, the cool air conditioning immediately replacing the lingering warmth of the summer evening. Very little seemed to have changed inside. The shelves had been stocked with newer products, many of the snack brands you remembered had disappeared altogether, yet the store itself remained strangely familiar. The refrigerators still stretched along the wall opposite the entrance, the candy aisle still occupied the center of the shop, and the cashier's counter remained cluttered with chewing gum, lighters and neatly stacked cigarette packs. It was comforting in a way you hadn't expected, as though this tiny convenience store had quietly refused to move on while everything else around it had.

You wandered aimlessly between the aisles, picking up a few snacks almost out of habit before eventually stopping in front of the refrigerated section. Rows of brightly colored drinks lined the shelves behind the glass doors, offering far more choices than you remembered. You hadn't come looking for anything in particular—just something cold after the walk—but as your eyes drifted from one bottle to another, they eventually settled on a familiar yellow container tucked neatly between rows of flavored milk.

A smile found its way onto your face before you even realized it.

The banana milk looked exactly the same.

The rounded bottle, the bright green cap, the playful lettering printed across the front... even after all these years, it hadn't changed. You reached for it almost instinctively, your fingers wrapping around the cool plastic as memories resurfaced with effortless clarity.

You and Jungkook had shared what could only be described as an unhealthy obsession with banana milk. Neither of you ever left the convenience store without buying one, and whenever there happened to be only a single bottle left in the refrigerator, it somehow became the most important thing in the world. Jungkook, despite being older than you, never seemed willing to admit defeat. He would insist he had seen it first, while you argued just as stubbornly that reaching it first should have counted for something. Eunji, who had never particularly liked banana milk in the first place, usually watched the two of you with an exasperated sigh before declaring that you were both behaving like children.

Looking back, she had probably been right.

The arguments had become so predictable that the elderly woman working behind the register eventually started keeping an extra bottle beneath the counter whenever she spotted the three of you walking through the door together. She never said much as she handed it over, merely shaking her head with an amused smile while muttering that the two of you were impossible.

You couldn't help but wonder whether she had finally retired alongside so many of the other familiar faces in the neighborhood, or if she still stood behind that very same register, quietly watching another generation of children grow up.

With two small bottles of banana milk tucked beneath your arm and a handful of snacks balanced on top, you eventually made your way toward the register. To say you were disappointed when the elderly woman wasn't standing behind the counter wouldn't have been entirely true. You had expected it. Seven years was a long time, more than enough for retirement to have found her somewhere along the way. Even so, seeing someone else in her place served as another quiet reminder that life in the neighborhood had continued without you.

The young man behind the register couldn't have been much younger than you. He greeted you with a polite smile before beginning to scan your purchases one by one, the familiar electronic beeps echoing softly through the small convenience store.

You had just reached into your pocket for your wallet when a voice rose from somewhere behind you.

"Y/N?"

Your hand froze.

For a brief moment, you didn't react. It wasn't that you hadn't heard it. Quite the opposite. Hearing your own name spoken so naturally caught you off guard. Ever since stepping off the plane that morning, no one had addressed you by name. To hear someone say it, here of all places, felt almost impossible.

Slowly, you turned around.

A young woman stood a few steps away, a shopping basket hanging loosely from one arm. She looked to be about your age, her dark hair resting just above her shoulders, framing features that had long outgrown the softness of childhood. You searched her face instinctively, trying to place where you might have met before, until your gaze settled on the tiny beauty mark resting high on her cheekbone.

It was all it took.

"...Eunji?" you asked, unable to hide the disbelief in your voice.

For a second, she simply stared back at you, her eyes growing wider and wider until a grin spread across her face.

"No way."

The basket slipped from her hand and landed on the floor with a dull clatter that earned a curious glance from the cashier, but Eunji didn't seem to notice. In three hurried steps she was standing right in front of you, looking you up and down as though trying to convince herself you weren't some elaborate prank.

"No way! It is you!" she blurted out, lightly grabbing your forearms before pulling back again. "You've actually come back?" Her eyes narrowed almost immediately. "Hold on... when?"

"This morning."

"This morning?" she repeated, her voice climbing an octave. "You've been back in Korea for an entire day and didn't tell me?"

A quiet laugh escaped you.

"I wasn't exactly trying to keep it a secret."

"Oh really?" she replied, folding her arms with exaggerated offense. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks suspiciously like you forgot your best friend existed."

"I didn't forget you."

"Mm-hm."

"I didn't."

"Then explain yourself."

The familiar sharpness in her voice made something inside you loosen. Seven years had changed her appearance, but not the way she spoke. She still fired questions without waiting for answers, still wore every emotion plainly across her face, and still managed to sound both accusing and delighted at exactly the same time.

"My number changed years ago," you admitted. "I figured yours probably had too. We hadn't spoken in so long... I didn't even know if you still lived around here."

You hesitated briefly before continuing.

"I guess I thought life had already moved on."

Eunji's expression softened almost immediately.

"...Mine changed twice," she admitted with a sheepish smile. "I probably wouldn't have answered an unknown number anyway."

The two of you laughed quietly, the awkwardness dissolving almost as quickly as it had appeared. Neither of you had meant to let seven years pass in silence. Somewhere between changing schools, growing older and learning how quickly adulthood demanded your attention, keeping in touch had simply become something the two of you always meant to do tomorrow.

The cashier cleared his throat politely, his eyes flicking toward the small queue that had formed behind you.

Eunji glanced over her shoulder before pressing a hand dramatically against her forehead.

"Oh my God..." she groaned. "We're holding this poor man hostage."

The young cashier smiled awkwardly, clearly too polite to agree.

"Come on," Eunji said, picking up her basket before gesturing toward the door. "Let's pay before he starts charging us rent."

A few minutes later, the two of you settled around one of the small plastic tables outside the convenience store, each taking one of the faded stools that had undoubtedly witnessed hundreds of similar conversations over the years. The evening had begun to settle comfortably over the neighborhood, carrying with it the distant chatter of families walking home after dinner, the occasional buzz of scooters passing through the streets, and the familiar melody of another old trot song drifting outside every time the automatic doors slid open.

You placed your shopping bag on the table before pulling out one of the banana milk bottles, while Eunji retrieved a small carton of grape juice from hers.

Your eyes drifted toward it, and you couldn't help smiling.

"You still drink grape juice."

She followed your gaze before looking back at you with mock indignation.

"And you bought two banana milks," she shot back. "Let's not pretend either of us grew up."

You laughed as you twisted open the cap of your bottle.

"I suppose some habits are harder to leave behind than others."

"Exactly." She pierced the little foil seal with her straw before taking a satisfied sip.

"Besides, if I suddenly started liking banana milk after spending my entire childhood telling you two it tasted like melted candy, you'd think I'd been replaced by a clone."

You simply nodded, a small huff resembling a laugh slipping past your lips before fading into the quiet that had settled between the two of you.

It wasn't awkward. Awkward implied discomfort, an urge to fill the silence with meaningless words simply because silence itself felt unbearable. This was different. Unfamiliar was perhaps a better way to describe it. Seven years had a way of turning even the closest friendships into something that needed to be rediscovered, as though the two of you had been handed an old book whose pages you remembered by heart, yet somehow no longer knew where to begin reading.

It hadn't always been like this.

When you first moved away, the distance hadn't seemed so impossible to overcome. Messages were exchanged almost every day. You and Eunji would send each other pictures of anything remotely interesting—a stray cat sleeping beneath a parked car, a funny-shaped cloud, the first snowfall of the year. There had been phone calls that stretched late into the evening despite the time difference, and countless promises that nothing would change simply because an ocean now separated you.

Then life quietly found its way in between.

The messages became weekly conversations, then monthly check-ins, until eventually they were reduced to birthdays and the occasional "I was thinking about you today.". Somewhere along the way, even those disappeared. Not because either of you had stopped caring, but because days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and reaching out somehow became more difficult with every passing year.

At first, you had simply missed them.

You would catch yourself seeing something funny on your way home from school, instinctively reaching for your phone before remembering there was no one to send it to anymore. Sometimes you would wonder what Eunji was doing at that exact moment, whether Jungkook had finally outgrown his terrible habit of pretending he wasn't cold in winter, or if Bonghwang Park still looked the same when spring arrived. Those thoughts always lingered for a while before quietly slipping back into the corner of your mind where homesickness had learned to live.

Then came the guilt.

You wondered if you should have tried harder, if one more message or one more phone call could have somehow kept the friendship from drifting away. On the days when guilt became too heavy to carry, it gave way to anger instead—anger directed almost entirely at your parents for taking you away from the people who had once been your entire world.

And when even that anger began to fade, it inevitably circled back to you.

Perhaps blaming yourself had always been easier than accepting that sometimes people didn't grow apart because they wanted to. Sometimes life simply carried them in different directions.

Your fingers absentmindedly turned the small bottle of banana milk between your hands, watching tiny droplets of condensation slowly gather on the yellow plastic.

"I used to wonder if you'd forgotten about me," Eunji admitted suddenly, her voice much quieter than it had been since recognizing you.

"Not because I thought you wanted to... it just..." She let out a small sigh, searching for the right words.

"After a while, it became easier to tell myself you were probably too busy."

You looked up at her.

"I never forgot."

"I know that now."

"No." You shook your head gently. "Even back then."

Eunji remained silent, giving you the space to continue.

"I thought about texting you more times than I can count." A faint smile tugged at the corner of your lips, though it carried more melancholy than amusement.

"But every time I picked up my phone, it felt like too much time had already passed. I kept telling myself I'd do it tomorrow."

"And tomorrow became seven years."

"...Yeah."

Eunji clicked her tongue before leaning across the table just enough to lightly bump your shoulder with her closed fist.

"You're an idiot."

You blinked.

"But so am I," she added with a crooked grin. "Because I did exactly the same thing."

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

The weight that had quietly followed you since leaving Korea didn't disappear all at once, but for the first time in years, it felt a little lighter simply because someone else had been carrying it too.

You took a sip of the banana milk, the familiar sweetness coating your tongue exactly as you remembered it. It tasted just as artificial as it had seven years ago, yet somehow that only made it better.

By now, night had fully settled over the neighborhood. The last traces of sunlight had disappeared behind the apartment buildings, leaving the streets bathed beneath the warm glow of the streetlamps you had wondered about only an hour earlier. Their soft yellow light spilled across the pavement just as you remembered, illuminating the narrow streets where conversations drifted lazily between neighbors enjoying the cooler evening air. Somewhere farther down the road, the faint chirping of cicadas still lingered, refusing to surrender to the night.

The conversation between you and Eunji had become easier too.

The initial awkwardness brought on by seven years apart had slowly melted away, replaced by something much more familiar. You found yourselves talking about everything and nothing at once. She told you about the café where she had been working part-time while finishing university, complained about the impossible customers she met on an almost daily basis and laughed while recalling how she had once accidentally served an iced americano to someone who had specifically asked for it hot. In return, you spoke about the country you had spent your teenage years in, carefully choosing the stories worth telling while leaving out the loneliness that had accompanied most of them.

Listening to Eunji felt strangely comforting.

She still jumped from one subject to another without the slightest warning, speaking with her hands as much as with her mouth, each story somehow leading to three others before the first had even reached its conclusion. Some people changed with time.

Eunji, apparently, simply became a louder version of herself.

"So..." she began after a comfortable silence had settled between the two of you, lazily spinning the small carton of grape juice between her fingers. There was a glint in her eyes that immediately made you suspicious. "Did you come back to check if your crush on Jungkook still exists?"

The question caught you completely off guard.

You inhaled at precisely the wrong moment, the banana milk going down the wrong way and sending you into a fit of coughing that had you turning away from the table in a desperate attempt not to spray the poor convenience store with artificially flavored milk.

Across from you, Eunji stared for exactly one second before dissolving into uncontrollable laughter.

"I didn't even get an answer!" she managed between laughs. "You practically answered for me!"

Once your coughing finally subsided, you reached for a napkin lying on the table, pressing it lightly against your lips before shooting her an unimpressed look.

"I never had a crush on him."

Eunji didn't answer immediately.

Instead, she leaned back on the little plastic stool, crossing her arms as though she were a lawyer preparing to dismantle the weakest argument she had ever heard. One eyebrow arched so high it was almost theatrical, while the amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth told you she wasn't about to let the subject go.

"As if."

"I didn't."

"Y/N," she sighed dramatically. "I've known you since we were four."

"And?"

"And I have eyes."

You couldn't help rolling yours.

"Jungkook was older than us."

"By three years."

"He practically babysat us."

"He walked us home."

"Our parents trusted him."

"Our parents trusted him because they knew you would follow him around like a lost puppy."

"I did not."

"You absolutely did."

You opened your mouth to argue before realizing you couldn't immediately come up with a convincing counterargument.

Your silence was all Eunji needed.

She pointed at you triumphantly, nearly spilling her grape juice in the process.

"See!"

"I walked beside him because we were going in the same direction."

"You somehow always managed to be walking in the same direction."

"We lived on the same street."

"Mhm."

"He was just..."

You frowned, searching for the right words.

"...Jungkook."

Eunji's grin softened ever so slightly.

For the first time since teasing you, she didn't immediately throw another joke your way. Instead, she watched you quietly for a moment, as though realizing you hadn't actually been trying to avoid the question.

You genuinely had never thought about it.

As children, Jungkook had simply... existed. He had always been there, waiting outside the school gates whenever his classes ended earlier than yours, reminding the two of you to look both ways before crossing the street, climbing trees you weren't supposed to climb and pretending not to notice whenever you and Eunji copied everything he did.

Back then, you had never stopped to question whether those feelings had been admiration, affection or the innocent attachment children naturally formed toward someone they looked up to.

You had simply been happy whenever he was around.

Eunji let out a quiet chuckle before taking another sip of her grape juice.

"...See?" she murmured.

You looked at her, confused.

"You still get that look on your face whenever you talk about him."

No words came to your lips after that.

There was little point in arguing anymore. Whatever feelings you might have carried as a child belonged to another version of yourself, one who had climbed trees without worrying about scraped knees and believed seven years could pass without changing anything. Looking back now, those memories felt too distant, too blurred by time for you to confidently give them a name.

Perhaps Eunji was right.

Perhaps she wasn't.

You weren't even sure you wanted to know anymore.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, each absentmindedly nursing your drinks while the neighborhood carried on around you. Every now and then, the automatic doors of the convenience store slid open with their familiar electronic chime, releasing a brief gust of cool air before closing again. Across the street, the owner of a nearby restaurant was stacking empty chairs outside, while a pair of middle-school boys hurried past with convenience store ramen balanced carefully in their hands, laughing loudly over something that neither of you could hear.

The neighborhood hadn't become quieter after sunset.

It had simply slowed down.

Your fingers absentmindedly traced the condensation gathering around the bottle of banana milk. There was another question lingering stubbornly at the back of your mind, one you had spent the entire evening carefully avoiding. Every memory you had revisited since returning seemed to lead back to him eventually. The friendship bracelet. The tiny cat keychain. The park. Even the banana milk.

You weren't sure whether asking would satisfy your curiosity or only leave you wondering even more.

"...Do you still talk to him?"

The question left your mouth almost absentmindedly.

You hadn't planned on asking it. In truth, you weren't even sure why it had been the first thing to come to mind. Perhaps because hearing his name spoken aloud for the first time in seven years had quietly reopened a door you had spent years convincing yourself had been closed. Or perhaps because, despite everything, some small part of you still pictured the two of them exactly as you had left them—walking home together after school, bickering over something completely insignificant while you inevitably found yourself caught somewhere in the middle.

The quiet hum of the convenience store refrigerators drifted outside each time the automatic doors slid open. Somewhere farther down the street, a group of teenagers laughed loudly before disappearing around the corner, their voices slowly swallowed by the warm summer evening.

Life continued around you just as it always had.

Eunji remained silent for a moment.

She lowered her eyes to the little carton of grape juice resting between her hands, slowly turning it between her fingers as though the answer required more thought than either of you had expected. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence. If anything, it felt strangely familiar. The two of you had always been comfortable sitting together without speaking, letting the world fill the empty spaces between your conversations.

Finally, she looked back up.

"Not really."

The smile she offered wasn't sad.

If anything, it carried the quiet acceptance of someone who had already made peace with the passing of time.

"I don't think we've actually had a proper conversation in... maybe two years."

You couldn't help the surprise that briefly crossed your face.

Somehow, throughout the entire day, you had kept expecting to hear that everyone else's lives had remained connected while yours had been the only one interrupted. That Eunji and Jungkook had simply continued where the three of you had left off, only waiting for you to eventually find your way back. The thought had never truly made sense. Yet it had lingered somewhere in the back of your mind all the same.

"I thought..." You hesitated before quietly correcting yourself. "I don't know... I guess I thought you two were still close."

"We were."

Eunji smiled softly.

"For a long time."

She leaned back on the small plastic she had been sitting on, lifting her gaze toward the apartment buildings surrounding the convenience store. Several windows had begun glowing with warm yellow light as families settled down for dinner, while televisions flickered behind half-drawn curtains.

"It wasn't really anyone's fault," she continued after a moment. "We both started working. Our schedules stopped matching."

She shrugged lightly.

"At first we'd tell each other we'd meet next week."

Another small shrug followed.

"Then next month."

Her smile turned almost amused.

"And before we realized it... two years had passed."

The words settled quietly between you.

There wasn't any bitterness behind them. No resentment. Just the simple reality of growing older.

It was strange how friendships could slowly fade without a single argument ever taking place. No dramatic falling out. No final goodbye. Just two people walking in slightly different directions until one day they looked back and realized they had lost sight of each other somewhere along the way.

You knew that feeling better than anyone.

"Do you know where he is now?"

Eunji nodded.

"Around Seoul."

The answer came with far less certainty than the ones before it.

"I know he moved a few years ago."

She frowned slightly, trying to remember.

"It was for work, I think."

You waited for her to continue.

She didn't.

A faint laugh escaped her instead as she rubbed the back of her neck.

"...That's actually all I know."

The confession surprised you more than it probably should have. Years ago, the three of you had known everything about one another. Which teacher had given Jungkook detention. Which bakery Eunji's mother preferred. Which homework assignment you had forgotten to finish. Nothing had ever remained a mystery for very long.

Now... neither of you even knew which neighborhood he lived in.

"I just know it was somewhere closer to the city center," Eunji added. "I remember seeing pictures of moving boxes on his story one day."

She laughed quietly.

"After that, all his pictures suddenly stopped looking like Jungnang-gu."

Her words painted a surprisingly vivid image in your mind.

You found yourself wondering what kind of apartment he lived in now. Whether he still left clothes scattered across his bedroom floor like he used to. Whether he still skipped breakfast whenever he woke up late.

The questions came so naturally that they almost made you laugh at yourself.

You knew nothing about the man he had become. Only the boy you had left behind.

"I still follow him, though."

Eunji's voice pulled you back to the present.

She reached into her pocket before placing her phone onto the little plastic table between the two of you.

"He barely posts anything."

The screen lit up beneath her fingertips.

"But his reposts..."

A laugh escaped her before she even finished the sentence.

"They're endless."

You leaned forward slightly as she opened Instagram. The first thing that caught your attention wasn't his profile picture. It was the grid of colorful reposted content stretching across the screen.

"...Those are all his?"

"Mhm."

She sighed dramatically.

"I don't even think he knows Instagram has a limit."

One repost followed another.

A motorcycle weaving through mountain roads, someone unsuccessfully attempting to cook ramyeon, a gym video, a stray cat demanding attention from strangers, a song, a sunset, a dog wearing tiny shoes, another motorcycle.

"It's completely random," you observed, smiling despite yourself.

"I know."

Eunji laughed.

"Every morning I wake up wondering what personality he's going to have that day."

She tapped through another handful of reposts before finally opening his profile.

Compared to the endless stream of reposts, it looked almost empty. Only a few carefully chosen photographs filled the page, months stretching between each upload as though he only remembered to post every once in a while.

"He'll disappear for half a year," Eunji explained, "then suddenly post four pictures in the same evening."

Your eyes slowly wandered across the photographs. The ocean. A motorcycle. A late-night bowl of ramyeon. A blurry concert.

Then...

A picture of Jungkook himself.

Someone else had clearly taken it. He stood beside a convenience store, a bottle of banana milk resting casually in one hand while he laughed at something happening beyond the frame.

You found yourself staring at it longer than you intended.

"He still drinks banana milk," you murmured almost to yourself.

Eunji looked down at the picture before smiling.

"That..."

She chuckled softly.

"...that hasn't changed."

She rested her chin against her hand, her eyes lingering on the photograph for a moment.

"The last time I ran into him, we ended up stopping at a convenience store before going our separate ways."

A quiet laugh escaped her.

"I didn't even have to ask what he wanted."

Your gaze drifted from the screen to the bottle of banana milk resting beside your hand.

"He walked straight to the refrigerator," Eunji continued, "grabbed one of those, paid for it and acted like it was the most normal thing in the world."

Another small silence settled between the two of you.

It wasn't the tattoos you found yourself looking at anymore. Nor the piercings. Nor the broader shoulders adulthood had given him.

Instead...

Your eyes kept returning to the tiny yellow bottle resting so casually in his hand. Some things, it seemed, remained the same. And somehow, that simple realization made the years separating the boy you remembered from the man staring back at you feel just a little less impossible.

The conversations that followed wandered effortlessly from one subject to another, never lingering on anything long enough to grow heavy. Seven years was far too much time to fit into a single evening, and yet neither of you seemed particularly concerned with telling everything all at once. There would always be another story to remember, another question to ask, another memory waiting patiently around the next corner.

At some point, the empty bottles and snack wrappers had quietly disappeared into the convenience store's trash bin. Remaining seated no longer felt natural. The neighborhood itself seemed to invite the two of you to keep walking, as though its familiar streets had been waiting just as patiently as the people who still called them home.

Without discussing it, your feet naturally found the sidewalk.

The air had cooled considerably since sunset. The oppressive humidity of the afternoon had given way to the kind of summer evening you remembered so fondly, where every apartment window stood open in search of a passing breeze. Conversations floated down from balconies. Somewhere nearby, a television played louder than it probably should have, accompanied by the laughter of a family gathered around dinner. The scent of grilled meat drifted from a restaurant preparing for its last customers of the night, blending with the earthy smell of the trees surrounding Bonghwang Park.

Everything felt alive.

You hadn't realized how much you had missed that.

"I still can't believe you actually came back, you know?"

Eunji glanced sideways at you as the two of you waited for the pedestrian light to change. There was no accusation in her voice, only genuine disbelief, as though she still expected this entire evening to turn out to be some elaborate dream she'd wake up from.

"I honestly thought you'd stay there."

The green figure finally lit up.

You crossed the street together, neither of you rushing despite the countdown ticking away above your heads.

"So did I."

The answer came more quietly than you had expected.

For years, coming back had existed somewhere between a promise and a fantasy. You had repeated the words often enough that they eventually lost some of their meaning.

I'll come back one day.

You had whispered it to yourself while staring out of rain-covered bus windows in a city that had never truly felt like yours. You had thought it during birthdays, holidays and quiet evenings when homesickness settled somewhere deep inside your chest for reasons you couldn't quite explain.

But every year, something had found a way to postpone it. University, work, money, responsibilities… there was always another reason to wait just a little longer.

"I think..." You smiled faintly to yourself.

"...I got tired of waiting for the perfect moment."

The street fell quiet around you for a while.

Not because the conversation had ended, but because neither of you felt the need to immediately fill the silence. It reminded you of your childhood, when the three of you could spend entire afternoons wandering through the neighborhood without speaking much at all. Back then, companionship had never depended on constant conversation. Simply being together had always been enough.

Eunji eventually broke the silence with a quiet laugh.

"You know..."

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before looking at you.

"I used to wonder what you'd look like when you came back."

That made you laugh.

"You really thought about that?"

"Of course."

She looked almost offended that you would ask.

"I'd see someone from behind with hair that looked like yours and think..." she paused dramatically, mimicking her younger self, "'Oh my God, she's finally back.'"

You laughed harder this time.

"And?"

"It was never you."

The two of you continued walking, shoulders brushing every now and then whenever the sidewalk narrowed.

"I guess I always imagined I'd recognize you immediately."

"You didn't."

"I absolutely did not."

She pointed toward you with an exaggerated grin.

"You looked at me like I was a complete stranger."

"I thought you were."

"Rude."

"You've changed."

"So have you."

The words were spoken lightly, yet they lingered between you longer than either of you expected.

You had changed.

Not only physically. Life had quietly shaped both of you into people who carried responsibilities, routines and worries that hadn't existed seven years ago. The little girls who used to spend entire afternoons arguing over which ice cream flavor to buy had disappeared somewhere along the way, leaving two women who were slowly trying to figure out what adulthood was supposed to look like.

And yet...

Walking beside Eunji still felt familiar enough that it seemed impossible all those years had truly happened.

Without warning, Eunji stopped walking.

"What?"

She didn't answer immediately.

Instead, she rummaged through her small shoulder bag before triumphantly pulling out her phone.

"We need a picture."

You blinked.

"A picture?"

She looked at you as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I've been waiting seven years for this."

Before you could protest, she was already stepping closer, lifting her phone above the two of you.

"Come on."

"Eunji..."

"Nope."

She grabbed your wrist before you had any chance of escaping.

"Smile."

You sighed dramatically.

"I literally just got here."

"Exactly."

Another grin.

"So this is your 'I literally just got back to Korea' face."

A reluctant laugh escaped you.

"You are unbelievable."

"I've been told."

The camera shutter clicked. Then again. And one last time for good measure.

Eunji immediately lowered the phone, already scrolling through the pictures with the same level of concentration people reserved for life-changing decisions.

"No."

Swipe.

"No."

Another swipe.

"Oh."

Her face brightened.

"This one."

You leaned over her shoulder.

It wasn't a particularly posed photograph.

Your hair had been caught by the breeze, a small laugh still lingering across your face as you looked somewhere between the camera and Eunji herself. She stood beside you flashing an unapologetically ridiculous peace sign, smiling so brightly that it was impossible not to smile back.

It looked... real.

"I actually like it."

"I know."

She was already opening Instagram.

"You don't mind if I post it?"

You shook your head.

"I don't think anyone who follows you even remembers who I am."

Eunji laughed.

"They're about to."

Her fingers moved quickly across the screen.

Guess who finally came home?

She tagged your account before hitting Share without another thought.

"There."

She slipped the phone back into her bag as naturally as if she'd merely checked the time.

"Officially welcomed back."

You smiled, shaking your head.

"I forgot how dramatic you are."

"I prefer emotionally expressive."

"You would."

The two of you resumed walking, your conversation effortlessly finding another subject before either of you gave the picture another thought.

Neither of you noticed the phone vibrating softly inside Eunji's bag barely a minute later.

Nor could either of you know that, several districts away, someone else had absentmindedly unlocked his phone during a break, thumb automatically tapping through the endless stream of Instagram stories that had accumulated throughout the evening.

Most of them disappeared before he paid them much attention. Friends, advertisements, dogs, food, another meme.

Then...

His thumb stopped.

For the first time in several stories, he didn't tap to skip, the screen remained perfectly still beneath his fingertips.

A familiar smile stared back at him from beside Eunji.

He blinked once. Then again. For a brief second, he genuinely wondered if exhaustion had finally started playing tricks on him.

Because unless he had completely lost his mind... Y/N was standing in Jungnang-gu.

After seven years...

She was home.

☘︎ ☘︎ ☘︎

Seven years.

That was how long you had been away from South Korea. You had left in your early teens and were only now returning as a young adult. Your parents' careers had taken precedence, forcing the family to move abroad. You never blamed them for it, but you still remembered the ache of being told to say goodbye to your friends. Even after all these years, the memory lingered, leaving behind a bitterness that had never fully faded.

The friends you had left behind were no longer part of your life. Only a handful of names and scattered memories remained. The moment you arrived in your new country, loneliness became your closest companion. Surrounded by a language you couldn't understand and people who couldn't understand you, you slowly withdrew from the world around you. Over time, you found comfort in the quiet, embracing the peace that came with spending most of your teenage years alone.

You hadn't been completely isolated. There had been acquaintances and the occasional friend, but none of those relationships had grown deep enough to survive the distance—or to follow you back home.

And now, here you were, standing in Incheon Airport, trying to find your way out. Your gaze drifted across the countless signs pointing in every direction. For reasons you couldn't quite explain, seeing Hangul everywhere—written in countless fonts and styles—felt strangely comforting. It was as though your body had recognized home before your mind had. After years of wandering somewhere that never truly felt like yours, you had finally returned.

Once you spotted the signs for the exit and the taxi stand, you gripped the handles of your two heavy suitcases and rolled them across the polished airport floor toward the world waiting outside.

The first thing that greeted you was the weight of midsummer. Heat and humidity wrapped around you like a thick blanket, sensations your body had long since forgotten. As you made your way along the sidewalk, you watched the steady stream of travelers arriving and departing, taxis pulling in and out, families reuniting, drivers loading luggage into waiting cars. The airport buzzed with constant movement, yet nothing felt hurried.

Neither did you.

You walked at an unhurried pace, taking it all in. The rhythm of the people around you, the distant chatter, the rolling suitcases, the warm summer air—it all felt strangely familiar. As if, despite the years that had passed, South Korea had been waiting patiently for you to come home.

As you came to a stop, you raised a hand to flag down a taxi. The driver pulled over a few meters ahead, and an older man climbed out to greet you with a courteous smile. Without a word, he reached for your suitcases, letting out the occasional grunt as he lifted the heavy luggage into the trunk.

Once everything was loaded and the trunk clicked shut, you slipped into the back seat and fastened your seatbelt while the driver settled back behind the wheel.

"Where are you headed, miss?" he asked politely, meeting your gaze through the rearview mirror.

"Jungnang-gu," you replied. "Near Bonghwang Park."

The words came more easily than you had expected. It had been years since you'd held a conversation in Korean with anyone outside your family. Even then, conversations with your parents were few and far between. They had always been too consumed by work, their days overflowing with meetings, deadlines, and responsibilities that rarely left room for meaningful conversations.

Perhaps that was why you had chosen to return to Korea without them.

Work had always come first. Family had simply existed around it.

For years, you had convinced yourself it didn't matter—that you didn't mind the distance, or the quiet dinners, or the absence of affection. You had repeated it often enough that, eventually, you almost believed it.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed the taxi pulling away from the airport, its engine humming softly as it carried you toward your destination.

Jungnang-gu.

The district where you had grown up. Though seven years had passed, it remained untouched in your memories, preserved exactly as you had left it.

When the time had come to search for a place to settle, you had made one thing non-negotiable: it had to be in the neighborhood where your childhood had unfolded. You wanted something familiar—something that could anchor you after years spent feeling like you belonged nowhere.

Then you found it.

A two-bedroom apartment just a short walk from Bonghwang Park.

It had felt almost too perfect, as though the universe had quietly arranged your return long before you had decided to come back.

The park had been the heart of your childhood.

Every afternoon after school, you would race there with your friends while the neighborhood grandmothers gathered on nearby benches, chatting among themselves as they kept a watchful eye on the children running across the playground. Their laughter, mingled with the joyful shouts of children, had once been the soundtrack of your days.

The taxi came to a gradual stop in front of the apartment building, and before the driver could climb out to retrieve your luggage, your attention drifted toward the park across the street.

It looked smaller.

That realization surprised you more than anything else. As a child, Bonghwang Park had seemed endless. Every path had led somewhere worth exploring, every tree had looked impossibly tall, and the playground had felt large enough to spend entire afternoons without growing bored. Looking at it now, you could see the entire park from where you stood.

Perhaps it hadn't changed at all.

Perhaps you had.

The driver's voice gently pulled you from your thoughts as he opened the trunk and lifted your suitcases onto the pavement. After thanking him and paying the fare, you remained standing beside your luggage for another moment, your eyes wandering over the neighborhood.

Several of the old storefronts were gone. The bakery where your mother occasionally bought sweet red bean bread had become a convenience store, while the tiny stationery shop beside it had been replaced by a café with large windows overlooking the street. Even so, the neighborhood still carried an unmistakable familiarity. Elderly residents sat beneath the shade of nearby trees, chatting as they watched children ride bicycles along the sidewalk, and somewhere nearby came the unmistakable smell of grilled meat drifting from a restaurant preparing for the evening rush.

For the first time since boarding the plane, it occurred to you that this place had continued to exist without you.

Seven years had passed, yet life here had never paused. New families had moved in. Children who had once been too young to remember your name were probably teenagers by now, while the friends you used to spend every afternoon with had likely finished high school and begun lives of their own.

The realization left an unfamiliar weight in your chest. You had returned expecting to find pieces of your childhood waiting where you had left them, but the neighborhood had never belonged to your memories alone.

Rather than carrying your suitcases inside immediately, you found yourself crossing the street toward Bonghwang Park. You left your luggage beside the entrance to the apartment building, close enough that you could keep an eye on it from where you were. After waiting seven years to come back, unpacking no longer felt like the most important thing. The park had been the place where nearly every happy memory from your childhood had begun, and now that it was only a short walk away, you couldn't bring yourself to ignore it.

The moment you stepped beneath the shade of the trees, a familiar calm settled over you.

Although parts of the park had changed over the years, much of it remained exactly as you remembered. The old playground had been replaced with newer equipment, and the walking paths had been repaved, but the towering trees still stretched high above the park, offering shelter from the summer sun just as they always had.

Children ran across the playground while their parents watched from nearby benches, and elderly residents wandered along the paths at an unhurried pace, occasionally stopping to greet neighbors they had likely known for decades.

It felt strange to realize that life here had continued exactly as it always had.

For seven years, you had imagined returning to a place frozen in time, as though the neighborhood had been waiting for you to come home. Instead, everything had continued moving forward without you. New children had claimed the playground where you used to spend entire afternoons, familiar storefronts had welcomed new owners, and the people who had once been children alongside you were now old enough to have lives that no longer revolved around this park.

You wandered aimlessly along the winding paths, allowing your feet to decide where to go. Every few steps, something familiar caught your attention. A bench where you remembered sitting with your friends while eating ice cream after school. A narrow path you had once raced down without a second thought. Even one of the drinking fountains looked vaguely familiar, though it seemed much smaller than the one preserved in your memory.

You couldn't tell whether the park had changed or whether you simply had.

Without realizing it, your steps carried you toward one of the quieter corners of the park. Fewer people passed through this part, leaving the sounds of children laughing to drift softly between the trees rather than surround you completely.

The shade was thicker here, and the air felt noticeably cooler beneath the dense canopy overhead.

As your eyes wandered across the surrounding trees, one of them drew your attention for reasons you couldn't immediately explain. It looked no different from the others at first glance, but something about it felt oddly familiar. Curiosity pulled you closer, and as you stepped around the trunk, your gaze settled on several faint markings that had nearly disappeared beneath years of growing bark.

You reached out almost absentmindedly, brushing your fingertips across the shallow engravings.

The first name was your own.

For a moment, you simply stared at it, struggling to understand why seeing those uneven letters made your chest feel unexpectedly tight. The bark had grown around each cut over the years, softening their edges, yet the carving remained recognizable. Judging by the clumsy lines and uneven depth, it could only have been made by the hands of a child.

Slowly, your eyes drifted toward the two names carved beside it.

Jeon Jungkook.

Kwon Eunji.

The moment you read them, memories you hadn't thought about in years surfaced almost effortlessly.

You remembered the three of you gathering beneath this very tree after school one summer afternoon, trying to stay hidden from the adults while Jungkook proudly showed off a small pocketknife he had somehow managed to bring with him. You remembered Eunji insisting that all of you would get scolded if anyone saw what you were doing, only to complain moments later that neither you nor Jungkook were carving the letters deeply enough. In the end, the three of you had taken turns scratching your names into the bark, convinced that doing so would somehow prove your friendship could never be forgotten.

Jungkook had laughed so hard he nearly dropped the knife when your first attempt turned the first letter of your name crooked.

By the time the three of you finished arguing over whose name should be carved first, the afternoon sun had already begun to sink behind the trees.

Back then, it had seemed like a promise that would last forever.

None of you had imagined that only a few months later, you would be standing in your bedroom surrounded by moving boxes while your parents explained that you would be leaving Korea.

You had cried harder that day than you ever had before.

Not because you were moving to another country, but because you had been forced to say goodbye to the two people who had made your childhood feel complete. You had promised Jungkook and Eunji that you would come back one day, repeating those words over and over again because neither of you wanted to believe that saying goodbye might mean forever.

Your fingers lingered over the three names, tracing each one as though doing so might somehow bridge the seven years that separated you from those memories.

A quiet smile appeared on your face before you could stop it.

The tree had kept its promise.

After everything that had changed, after seven years of seasons passing without you, it was still standing exactly where the three of you had left it.

☘︎ ☘︎ ☘︎

☘︎ tag list: - comment to be added