#wrienne

1. Posting Schedule

Three Fridays in a row, I'll upload a chapter of my work, be it AHPH, DL, or my personal work. Then there will be a week without posting so that I can catch up on other stuff or take a break. This will be on a rotation.

AHPH: will be posted by the first Friday of the rotation until I finish DL, which is when I will dedicate both update slots for AHPH. AHPH has a very long story which I do not plan on finishing any soon. Who is your favorite hybrid so far?

DL: will be posted by the second Friday of the rotation. DL is actually reaching its end relatively soon, meaning a majority of the story has been posted already. Who is your favorite suspect?

Original work: will be posted by the third Friday of the rotation. I am either going to post here or on Wattpad. I've got so many projects I want to write about that I simply don't have time, or worse, procrastinate on all. I want to publish a book before the end of this year, however.

You can read more in detail about each project (and others in the works) in the next section.

To visualize the schedule: Week 1: AHPH Week 2: DL (until i finish it, then it will be AHPH) Week 3: Original work Week 4: Buffer

Now, this is not to say that there may be exceptions. Life happens, and I may miss a deadline. Or life also happens, and I post more than once. But I wanted to have some structure to it all so I don't leave anybody wondering if I am gone again or why I am not posting on the specific story.

For more clarity, I will configure some sort of progress bar/status on my page so that you can peek in at any time to see the progress of my work. I will also add dates for the expected updates!

2. Current Projects and Workflow

Currently, I can divide my work into two sections. Ao3 and my original work. As such, I will discuss them separately.

On Ao3, I have no plans currently of adding another story other than DL and AHPH. While I have considered and planned out a sequel for DL, I don't know if I can handle it currently. My research for DL, while extremely interesting, is also very morbid. And that sort of thing tears at your mind. Though, this is not to say never. I know a lot of you really enjoy AHPH, but surprisingly, most people say they love DL the most. So it might be subject to change.

AHPH has a different sort of setup than any of my other writing pieces. I'd consider it more like a TV series, with plenty of episodes you can look forward to and with no end quite in sight as of yet. I do have an idea for a larger, overarching story plot, but that won't be relevant for quite a while, and won't be essential to anyone just reading it for the easy fun.

Regarding my personal work, I have an insane amount of stuff I want to write. But to keep things relatively brief, I can disclose three series I plan for the future. I could give more of an in-depth explanation of these in another post if anybody's interested.

A Beauty and the Beast fantasy retelling with the roles reversed. It will be a trilogy, and it is currently the story I've gotten the farthest on. There will be fae, demons, and gods and spirits, but also geopolitical conflicts and court intrigue.

A historical/fantasy series set in the 14th century. I call this a "continental fantasy", because it has to do with discovering a new wild continent away from the known world. Will contain witches, telekinetic mages, and an ancient advanced civilization of godlike beings that disappeared mysteriously in the past. This is also something I started a year ago, and will be a many-part series.

A high fantasy series with an urban fantasy concept (?) is how I'd explain it. It's set in a multiverse where all the worlds are connected through ley lines, with all of them centering in this one city. It is possibly my most ambitious work, containing anything from the Seelie and Unseelie Court, the Wild Hunt, to vampires, elves and monsters. But it's also been my most giving as I've gone through worldbuilding and storyboarding with ease. It will also be a multi-part series, and I've already got a sequel series in the works.

I am currently in the process of trying my best not to write on all three and just stick to one story. Let me know if any of these stand out to you!

3. My Future Plans (Writing Tips? Patreon? The Essence Thief Series?)

So, what are my future plans?

I want to keep on posting on Ao3 and writing my own thing. I will obviously not be able to publish my Ao3 work, but since I dream of becoming an author, I will be spending the majority of my time and energy on that (and obviously my studies and mental and physical health), which I hope is understandable.

In order to branch out more as an author, I have also been considering getting out there on other media platforms! But this is something I have to get back to you with.

I wonder if there's anyone interested in learning more tips and tricks on how to write. I used to do a segment called Writing (Writer's?) Wednesdays, where I'd make a post on a storytelling aspect and describe how to plot a chapter, make characters, figure out ideas, how to world-build, etc. If that's something that you'd be interested in, let me know!

Another topic I have been considering is Patreon or Ko-fi. For a small fee, I'd offer the following:

The Essence Thief in eBook format

Exclusive posts of the AHPH crew (such as camping trips, birthdays, requests, and gratuitous NSFW) These would be canon but otherwise hard to include in the current flow I've got for AHPH.

Take writing requests of X amount of words for people

Early access view of all my writing (personal, Ao3)

Any other book I publish will also be available here weeks before the official release

Personal help and assistance with your writing

And more!

Obviously, times are incredibly rough for all of us, so this is just a suggestion! The main goal of the Patreon would be so I could write more.

Regarding The Essence Thief series, I am currently putting it on hiatus. It was not until a few days ago that I finally managed to free myself from the last of the negative influences that have been haunting me for many years. I can honestly say, that it's not until now, after 25 years of living, that I've felt somewhat liberated. Somewhat free. And right now, TEP reminds me too much of all the horror that's still lingering there at the periphery of my mind. I won't cancel TEP entirely, as I still feel like there will be a time when I can return to it, but as of now and in the nearest future, it is not part of my writing plan.

Personal Commentary:

oh. my. good. lort. what an amazing series this is. 

I've had the absolute pleasure of reading the current 11 chapters out and can I just say- nothing short of perfection. I don't even know where to begin. From the very different take on the hybrid universe. To the very strong characteristics of each character. I find myself in complete awe of how intimately and detailed the world has been constructed. There is SO much I want to say but I’m scared I’ll spoil everything lol

“How did you get in here?”

I couldn’t discern whether the slight tremble in Yoongi’s voice was due to anger or fear. His expression was stony, and his tone had been hard to gauge. It didn’t really matter, though.

What the fuck had that look in his eyes been just now?

“The door was open,” I began icily, unable to keep the fury out of my voice. “I thought I would come and tell you about what happened at the station, you know? Since my girlfriend is missing?”

The last sentence slipped out before I could stop it. I hadn’t meant to sound so passive-aggressive, but the dark, heavy tendrils in my stomach had grown exponentially since I read the torn out piece from his notebook. Although I tried to fight it, although I tried to resist, I couldn’t stop myself from being swept along by the frighteningly powerful wave of jealousy and greed that I had fought to stifle ever since I recovered my memory.

Ever since I realized how much (Y/N) meant to me.

“Did something happen to Yi-Jae as well?”

I gritted my teeth, my irritation renewed. “You know who I’m talking about, hyung.”

“I thought you said your girlfriend.” Yoongi didn’t bat an eye as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the door. “Last time I checked, you two were still a couple. Or have you broken up finally?”

“It’s not as easy as you think,” I replied, not bothering with the usual “hyung”.

“No, I guess not. You two screwed up, literally, and she ended up pregnant.”

I opened my mouth to snarl a retort - then shut it just as quickly. If everything went as planned, I would have no problem solving my situation with Yi-Jae. And though that was something I should and would have liked to talk to my hyungs about, I no longer wanted to share that with Yoongi. I didn’t want to share anything with him.

Least of all (Y/N).

“What is this?” I asked instead as I lifted the note in his eye height.

Surprise surfaced in his eyes for a moment before it faded underneath a guise of indifference. “Lyrics,” he said quickly.

Too quickly.

Even though I wasn’t as close to Yoongi as I was Taehyung, who was the hyung I probably got along best with, and he was good at holding a pretty straight face, I knew him well enough by now to read the subtle changes in his expression. And his whole face was practically screaming at me that he was lying.

“I don’t believe you,” I said stiffly.

“What, can’t I write whatever kind of lyrics that I want to?”

I pointed at his screen. “I browsed your tabs. You have like a thousand articles on (Y/N) up right now.”

“So what?” asked Yoongi noncommittally. “Am I not allowed to check up on news surrounding a friend’s sudden disappearance?”

“A ‘friend’?”

A burst of regret and realization filled his eyes, and I knew I had been right to question him. “Since when were you two close enough for you to call her a friend?” I continued. “And is that all that you are? Friends?”

Yoongi’s jaws clenched, and he didn’t respond immediately. My heart was beating faster and faster, as if I were on the treadmill, but instead of feeling enjoyment over all the adrenaline pumping throughout my body, a creeping dread enveloped me slowly from head to toe.

A creeping dread that threatened to consume me when he finally replied.

“We’re friends,” said Yoongi, his tone neutral, his eyes hard. “But I like her more than I would like an ordinary friend. I like her a lot.”

My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Yoongi also seemed a bit in disbelief over what he had said, for he quickly averted his gaze from mine as he went on.

“I don’t know when or how my feelings for her began, but I’m not going to be a childish coward about it. I’ll tell her when she gets back and let her do whatever she wants with that information.”

The words poured out of him without restraint. It was suddenly obvious to me that there had been something between Yoongi and (Y/N). When had it began? Was it that time when we all went to eat together to celebrate the fact that I could perform all our dance routines? Or was it earlier, when we watched that scary movie at (Y/N)’s parents’ apartment? Or was it even earlier, perhaps when I had first gotten amnesia? Had they met in private? How deep was their friendship?

And most importantly - what did (Y/N) think about Yoongi?

Dozens upon dozens of possibilities swirled inside my head, threatening to make it explode due to all the building pressure. I wanted to blurt it out, demand every detail, every possible encounter Yoongi could have had with (Y/N), but I swallowed it all back down. For there was one thing he had said that truly caught my attention.

“What do you mean by ‘childish coward’?” I wondered, doing my best to control my voice. “Are you talking about me?”

Yoongi’s eyes darted back to mine. “Who else?”

“I’m neither of those things. (Y/N) knows exactly how I feel about her.”

“Is that why she lets you hang around with Yi-Jae all the time?”

Although I tried, I couldn’t hide the surprise his question evoked within me. After observing my face, Yoongi shook his head with a snort.

“You’re such a child, Jungkook. (Y/N) doesn’t even know that you’re still with Yi-Jae, right? She doesn’t know about the child, does she?”

I crumpled up the note in my hand before tossing it aside. “What the hell are you trying to do?” I demanded angrily, wanting to change the topic of conversation since Yoongi had breached a subject I wasn’t comfortable talking to anyone with, least of all him. “Are you seriously doing this? Are you seriously going after my girlfriend?”

“I’m not interested in Yi-Jae, so no, thank you.”

I raked a hand through my hair. “Stop bringing her into the conversation,” I groaned in frustration.

“Why should I?” Yoongi checked his phone almost nonchalantly before he glanced back at me. “Nobody in the group or company knows your feelings toward (Y/N). Everyone thinks you’re happy with Yi-Jae and gladly expecting your first kid.”

I clenched my jaws, silencing the response that had threatened to rocket out of me. I wanted to tell Yoongi that a child whatsoever, even less a child with Yi-Jae, had been the last on my to-do list. I wanted to tell him that I hadn’t found out about her pregnancy until a month ago, when Yi-Jae dropped the news on me after one of the happiest days of my life.

The day I had gotten (Y/N) back and truly felt how it feels like holding her hand.

But I couldn’t. Partly because I didn’t want anybody to know just how terrified and horrified I was at the thought of becoming a father. And partly because I didn’t feel like I had the permission to speak about Yi-Jae’s decision to keep the child and the reasoning behind that. I didn’t have the permission to tell her no. Not after what she had told me about her background.

Even if it meant I may hurt (Y/N).

“But you do,” I began instead. “You know how I feel for (Y/N) so how can you be such a… such a dick about it?”

If Yoongi was insulted by my words, he did not show it in the least. He didn’t even blink as he replied. “They’re obviously not strong enough if you can’t tell her the truth.”

Rage flared up within me, and it took all my self-control to not approach Yoongi and grab him. I took a deep breath, then let out an incredulous laughter as I ran my hand through my tresses again.

“I can’t believe we’re having a conversation like this,” I said, more to myself than to him. “I can’t believe someone like you, hyung, is doing this to me.”

“I’m not doing anything to you,” said Yoongi, furrowing his brows slightly. “I’m telling you facts. Have you ever stopped to think about what’s going to happen when Yi-Jae has her kid and our companies can’t deny the rumours?”

It kind of hurt my pride to admit it, but I had to agree with Yoongi. I was lucky to not have had my contract immediately terminated that evening when I met with the director and told him about Yi-Jae’s pregnancy. He was actually the only one I had been able to talk to regarding Yi-Jae’s decision to keep the kid.

“And the others might be doing a good job at putting up a facade,” continued Yoongi, a trickle of genuine concern entering his tone, “but I’ve spoken to all of them and we’re all worried. What’s going to happen once fans to both ESStar and us find out all the rumours are real? What’s going to happen to our group?”

I swallowed. Regarding my group members, I hadn’t actually told them face-to-face about the pregnancy. It was something the director had dealt with, and nobody, not even Taehyung, had ever brought it up. There were times in private, when we were chilling at home or practicing, that we had mentioned Yi-Jae’s pregnancy, but it was always in passing and people had been quick to change subject. All in all, however, I had thought things were good between me and the other members. I had actually thought things were going really smooth and my hyungs were all just fine with it.

But things were obviously not as they seemed.

“I’m going to tell the rest about (Y/N),” I said as I started toward the door. I could tell that Yoongi was trying to steer the flow of conversation into a certain direction, but since I didn’t know where that might lead, I didn’t want to let him succeed. There was also a part of me that needed air. I needed to get out and do something, anything, to forget what Yoongi had just told me.

To forget that he had just admitted to liking (Y/N).

“Wait.”

Yoongi grabbed my arm just as I reached for the door handle, and although he was a lot shorter and thinner than me, there was a surprising amount of strength in his grip.

“What?” I snapped as I tore myself away from him, hating every second I had to stand in that room with him. I felt betrayed in more ways than one. I felt betrayed by Yoongi, but also by (Y/N). Yoongi wasn’t the type to fall in love with someone at first glance, and even if he were, (Y/N) wasn’t the kind of girl someone could just mysteriously fall in love with. Of course, she had and would probably always remain beautiful in my eyes, but that was more because of her indomitable personality, not her appearance. For Yoongi to develop enough feelings to say them outloud - and to me, of all people - he must have met her more than once.

And that meant (Y/N) had been keeping their meetings a secret from me, too.

I didn’t want to be angry with her, especially not now when she could be anywhere, and I despised the fact that I couldn’t seem to handle my jealousy regarding her. But my pride was all too wounded, as was my trust. I needed a moment for myself to just sort my thoughts out and get my shit together.

“You never answered my question this morning,” said Yoongi quietly. “When was the last time you heard from (Y/N)?”

I considered not telling him the truth, that I hadn’t in fact missed her calls around noon and that it probably wasn’t me she had last called before Jong-Yeol filed his report early morning. But I just couldn’t. It wasn’t right to (Y/N).

“She called me a bunch sometime after lunch yesterday,” I said slowly. “But I wasn’t able to answer any of her calls, and forgot about them afterwards. I didn’t think much of it, but I realize now that I should have.”

Yoongi’s eyes softened for a second, or so I thought. When I blinked, however, they were hard again.

“What were you doing that was so important that you couldn’t answer her calls?” he wondered.

I hesitated. There was no real reason for me to hide what I had been doing the day before, especially not to my group members or the company, but something held me back. If it was stubbornness and my wounded pride, or just my hurt, I did not know, but I couldn’t bear to tell Yoongi in that moment. I blamed myself enough already that I hadn’t been able to answer - I didn’t need him to do that as well.

But then also, it might be the solution to all my problems.

“I met Kang Shin-Ho.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened. It was clear that hadn’t been the answer he had expected.

“He was the male protagonist of that drama Yi-Jae starred in, right? Weren’t those two also said to have had a fling during filming?”

I nodded, and I couldn’t hide the excitement from my voice as I went on. “He called me up a week ago, when the rumours about Yi-Jae’s pregnancy first started.”

Realization struck Yoongi’s face and his eyes widened further. “Don’t tell me…”

I shrugged, but I felt the corners of my mouth drag into a smile. “Yep. He didn’t know about me and started dating her. He told me the kid was his.”

“But wait, how pregnant is Yi-Jae?”

“About six months.”

“Doesn’t that mean--”

“Yes,” I said, my smile broadening. “That means she was cheating on me with him.”

It was probably the first time in history that someone had been happy to hear that he or she had been cheated on, but I didn’t care. I was overjoyed. Thanks to the meeting I had had with Shin-Ho, who, despite being eight years older than me, actually had been a really nice guy about it all, a majority of my admittedly growing amount of anxiety had started disappearing.

Because I couldn’t imagine ever being a father. I couldn’t imagine ever having children.

I didn’t want to be like my dad.

“What are you smiling about, you idiot?”

For a second, I almost thought it was (Y/N) who had spoken. I could practically hear her voice and see her face just as she said those words. But then, I was brought back to reality and the tiny space within Yoongi’s private recording studio as he continued.

“Just because some other guy also slept with her doesn’t mean it’s his kid,” said Yoongi sharply. “How moronic do you have to be to think like that?”

I frowned. “What are you saying?”

“Did you still have sex with Yi-Jae…” He squinted as he counted the months backward. “...in February?”

“Why do I have to tell you that?” I wondered, hoping he couldn’t see the warmth taking over my features.

“So you did.”

“No,” I said, scowling at the assumption. “We… things weren’t going well between us.”

“I knew it.”

As I regarded Yoongi, I saw that it wasn’t just something he had said to be spiteful. There was nothing in his voice or features that indicated that he was accusing me of anything, or was judging or distrusting me. Fleetingly, I wondered just how much I thought I was hiding from my hyungs - and how much they really saw and heard and knew but just pretended to not have in order to make me glad.

And as I realized that, I regretted the fact that I had lied and said no.

“Can I leave now?” I asked, perhaps unnecessarily harshly.

Yoongi said nothing and simply gestured at the door.

I was out of his studio and the building within seconds, running straight out into another pouring rainfall. For once, I was happy with the dreary summer monsoon, however.

Because nobody, not even I, could see the tears that fell from my eyes.

I didn’t even feel them as I stared up into the thick gray clouds, ignoring the few cars that drove by even though I knew I must look like a maniac standing out in the rain. It was a relief to release the lid I had on my emotions, if only for a few seconds and at the cost of my clothes. A soaked hoodie and jeans were the least of my problems.

“He likes her,” I murmured to myself, having to hear it outloud to believe it. “Yoongi-hyung likes (Y/N) and wants to tell her that.”

Again, I was reminded of my feelings of betrayal and the more I thought about it, the more it hurt. I clutched at my hoodie, and although I had put it back on on my way out, I had to tear it off from me again, hoping that it would remove the tight feeling I had around my throat.

The conversation with Yoongi had made me furious at numerous times, but it had also given me a lot of insight I hadn’t even understood I was missing. I had never thought about what my hyungs’ opinions were about the whole ordeal with Yi-Jae and the pregnancy, and I had never told them about (Y/N)’s role in my life. And as I stood there, allowing the rain to practically swallow me, I realized that I had been naive--no, stupid to think that their silence was due to a lack of curiosity.

It wasn’t. Because who wouldn’t be curious? Who wouldn’t be concerned? I knew I would have. But the truth was that I couldn’t just call myself stupid. Because, as much as it pained me to confess, I hadn’t been too naive or too stupid to just see the truth.

No, I had just ignored it, thinking and hoping for the best. My best.

However, I would be a liar if I said my tears were due to any of this. Sure, I was frustrated with my ignorance regarding my hyungs and sure, the Yoongi’s admission frightened me and made me jealous to end, especially since I also had Jung-Hyun to think about. But neither of those were the reason behind my crying. Not even the nauseating mixture of worry and fear over (Y/N)’s absence was the culprit. It was honestly because Yoongi had told me something I hadn’t even thought of.

And that was the fact that Yi-Jae’s child might still be mine.

My heart started beating faster and faster, tiny black spots appeared before my eyes and what felt like needles were piercing into my skin. Recognizing the symptoms, I tried to inhale and exhale deeply while counting to ten, but when the technique I had carried with me for a decade didn’t work, I started actually panicking. Just before I totally lost grip of myself, however, I took out my phone and, with shaking fingers, found (Y/N)’s contact list name.

Count Godzilla.

After swiping right, I lifted the phone to my ear and closed my eyes.

“Hello, you’ve reached (Y/F/N). Unfortunately, I can’t take your call right now, but…”

My whole body relaxed, and gradually, even my heart calmed down. I knew it was merely a recorded response, and something she had probably done in seconds with nothing special in mind, but hearing her voice, so normal and so… safe, made me immensely happy. And so, despite standing in the rain, soaked to the bones, I did not shiver at all. Actually, after listening to (Y/N)’s voice mail one more time, I was actually filled with determination and belief.

I was going to believe in Shin-Ho. Although I wasn’t that religious, I couldn’t believe there would be a god that wouldn’t see the perfect opportunity here to road up both his destiny and mine. Shin-Ho had seemed overjoyed at the idea of a child, a possibility I saw as the most terrifying thing in the world. And he had admitted to still liking Yi-Jae.

It simply had to be his child. I truly hoped it was, both for him and myself. Everything would be solved then.

Everything would be right and I would tell (Y/N) everything then.

Bzz. Bzz.

[12.00 - RM-hyung]: Omw. You still there?

[12.00 - Me]: Yeah, but I’ve changed my mind. I want to talk to everyone. Do you know where the others are?

[12.05 - RM-hyung]: Seokjin-hyung is at home, I think, and Yoongi-hyung is at the company. Hoseok says Taehyung was gaming last time he saw him, but we don’t know where Jimin is.

[12.04 - Me]: Can you call him and Yoongi and tell them to meet us back at the dorm? It’s really important that I have you all there.

[12.06 - RM-hyung]: Ok. See you when?

[12.08 - Me]: Let’s make it ASAP.

[12.11 - RM-hyung]: Alright, we’ll see you soon.

I was glad that he hadn’t asked me why I couldn’t call Jimin myself or what the important thing was, but then again, that was so very typical Namjoon. He was always very conscious of every group member’s feelings, one of many abilities that I admired about him. If it had been anyone else, save for perhaps Yoongi, I would have been called up immediately.

And I couldn’t talk to anyone as long as I was crying.

When I returned to the dorms, I was dripping wet. The taxi driver had been really unwilling to let me inside his car once he saw the true state of my clothes, but I had managed to get inside before he could come up with an excuse. And it was fortunate that I got home when I did, for I was really starting to feel the chill.

I heard the characteristic clicking sound of a computer keyboard and mouse coming from Taehyung and Namjoon’s room, and Seokjin talking to his sugar gliders, but nobody reacted when I headed to the bathroom and then my room. I didn’t leave my desk where I had been frantically updating every news site in South Korea, constantly hoping for an update on (Y/N)’s disappearance to no avail. It wasn’t until the front door opened and shut four more times and murmurs filled the apartment that I shut the computer and finally ventured outside.

It was a repeat of the morning. My hyungs were all gathered in the kitchen, but now all six of them sat down around the dining table, Yoongi included. I had almost expected him to not show up, having heard practically everything I had to say already, and a stab of concern struck my stomach. To be honest, I hadn’t wanted him to come. Was he going to say something bad? Was he going to argue with me?

Or even worse - was he going to tell everyone just how clueless I had been until then?

Wearing an inscrutable mask, Yoongi sat at the far end of the table while browsing on his phone, not even bothering to look up as I sank down onto the chair directly opposite to him. What small talk and low murmurs there had been before that were instantly snuffed out and I swallowed as six pairs of familiar eyes focused on me.

Taehyung and Jimin’s concern were written on their faces, while Seokjin, Hoseok and Namjoon held serious expressions. I was suddenly overcome with joy that I had them all to rely on, and a lump formed momentarily in my throat.

“How are you holding up?”

I rubbed the nape of my neck as my gaze paused on Namjoon. “Not very well, hyung,” I admitted weakly and grimaced. “The detective I spoke to refused to reveal anything.”

Namjoon nodded once, a sympathetic frown tugging at his features, but he said nothing else. The air was wavering with anticipation, and I could tell that he or Hoseok had told everyone else that there was something important I had to share because nobody else dared speaking. And if the knot in my stomach was any indication, the nervousness I felt was also most likely plastered straight onto my face, obvious to anyone that was looking.

I took a deep breath. And then…

“You all know Kang Shin-Ho, right?”

“Who?” asked Hoseok.

“Hyung, it’s that male actor from ‘Of Smoke and Mirrors’,” said Taehyung as his eyes traveled to Hoseok. “You know that superpopular drama from January this year.”

“He starred in that show together with Yi-Jae,” added Seokjin. “He’s been in like a dozen CFs since.”

“Yeah,” said Jimin with a growing smile. “You always used to try and replicate his soda commercial.”

“Oh, yeah!” said Hoseok and snapped his fingers together. “Him! I know him!”

“Great,” I said with a quick smile. “So, Shin-Ho called me some time ago and asked to meet up.”

Namjoon frowned. “How did he get your number?”

I explained a bit impatiently how Shin-Ho had asked his manager, who in turn had asked one of ours. Frankly, I had expected my hyungs to be quiet as I told them everything about Yi-Jae and Shin-Ho and the pregnancy. The interruptions were not only annoying, but they kept increasing the suspense that still hovered about the table, making it difficult for me to breathe again.

I just wanted it over with.

“Anyway,” I said and cleared my throat, “the reason he called me was that he wanted to meet up. Our schedules didn’t exactly align at the time, so we had to wait until yesterday to finally see each other.”

“What did he want?” wondered Jimin bemusedly.

“Yeah, isn’t he like a decade older than you?” asked Seokjin.

“He…”

I paused and immediately, the atmosphere turned heavier. I was forced to lower my gaze to the table, and gripped my phone hard.

“He said Yi-Jae’s child is his,” I said after what felt like an eternity. “She… she cheated on me back in January, February, so the time matches up with how far she’s gone.”

It was quiet for a long while. I didn’t know why it was so hard to lift my gaze or why there had been genuine sadness in my voice as I spoke. Hadn’t I just been happy over the fact that Yi-Jae’s child wasn’t mine? Hadn’t I just wanted the kid to be Shin-Ho’s?

Hadn’t I been glad to hear that Yi-Jae cheated on me?

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook.”

There were several agreements following Namjoon’s words, and I looked up to find Hoseok and Jimin, who were sitting on each side of me, patting me on one shoulder each. Reading their faces, my hyungs’ - minus Yoongi, who had returned to staring at his phone - emotions ranged from anywhere to disappointed and angry to sympathetic and sorrowful. With a morbid curiosity that I did my best to suppress, I couldn’t help but wonder how their expressions would have been read should they know what I did to (Y/N).

Something I was just about to confess.

“It’s fine,” I said, causing everyone, even Yoongi, to perk up and frown. “Things weren’t going well for us for a while.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” said Taehyung quickly, his frown deepening.

“It’s not your fault,” said Seokjin as he nodded in agreement.

“No, I don’t mean it like that.”

I cleared my throat for what felt like the hundredth time as my hyungs’ inquisitive gazes all returned to me, ready to finally tell them how i truly felt about (Y/N). However, even as I opened my mouth, nothing came out. Embarrassed, I soaked my lips and tried again, but I just couldn’t speak and I wanted to crush my phone when I identified the dark, heavy feeling in my stomach.

I was too ashamed to voice how much (Y/N) meant to me.

Not because I was shy about liking her or was afraid of their opinion. No, it was nothing as foolish and innocent like that. Having spoken to Yoongi, my own actions had finally caught up to my brain and I couldn’t believe how stupid I had been and still was. Pregnancy aside, I doubted I could coherently explain to them why I had been with Yi-Jae in the first place when my feelings for (Y/N) had always been there. I just didn’t think I could. It had been easy to tell (Y/N), but that was only because it was her.

With her, I was never afraid to let go and be myself.

But with my hyungs, it was a completely different issue. (Y/N) knew all about me - she knew my past, she knew my present and she had known what I had in mind for my future while I was amnesic. As much as I cared for my hyungs and as much as they cared for me, I couldn’t tell them what I’ve experienced growing up. I couldn’t tell them about my family. I couldn’t tell them how frustrating it has always been for me to deal with my emotions, how much they’ve always been in my way and how much I’ve always hated them.

I couldn’t tell them how important (Y/N)’s presence in my life had been. For that would mean that I would have to tell them everything else, too.

About how it felt to be abandoned not only by your parents, but your only brother.

“Jungkook?”

It was Taehyung who said my name so very gently. I pulled myself together and shook my head, doing whatever I could to blink away the burning feeling in my eyes.

“You doing alright?” asked Namjoon.

“Yeah.” I inhaled discreetly and gathered my features in what I hoped was a neutral guise before I raised my gaze. “Yeah, I… I’m just exhausted, hyung.”

“Was there something else you wanted to say?” wondered Jimin carefully from where he sat to my right.

“No,” I lied and shook my head while inwardly cursing myself. “There wasn’t.”

“But I have something to say.”

My eyes widened as I stared at Yoongi, who had been suspiciously quiet ever since I entered the kitchen. Our eyes locked, and I stiffened as I understood what he was just about to say. He was going to reveal my feelings for (Y/N) and force me to explain everything while simultaneously making me look stupid and cowardly for not having told everyone on my own. That, or he was going to tell everyone that I had missed out on what might be (Y/N)’s final calls because I had met up with Shin-Ho.

Either way, I couldn’t let him be first. I couldn't let him make me look even worse than both things would make me sound like.

“I’ll say it instead,” I said hurriedly, my heart climbing rapidly in speed.

Yoongi furrowed his brows, and his eyes narrowed. “No, you’re not.”

I ignored him, but just before I, or really anyone else, could say anything, time seemed to freeze. For just as I took a quick breath in order to speak, in order to tell them about my shame, my long past and (Y/N)’s role in my life, Yoongi said something I never expected.

He said something that made me hate him with every single fibre of my being.

Months passed. Or well, that’s what it felt like. You lost all sense of time as well as the day and night cycle in the blackness. At times, you even lost your ability to sense space. Some days, the room could be small and cramped, like you were stuck in a tiny box at the bottom of the ocean. Yet other days, it felt like you had been locked inside a gigantic warehouse by the docks or a shopping mall with no inner walls or floors.

Of course, you inspected the room the best you could, swiping your hands and feet all over the walls and the floor for some kind of tool or opening to exploit. The tiniest nail, glass splinter, wire; any kind of crack, depression or hole - really anything that might be useful.

But there was nothing.

The frustration made you want to scream, and you probably would have without Jung-Hyun there with you. With him, the coldness was never unbearable and his stiff, somber voice soothed your restless mind. It wasn’t as if though you two were conversing; no, you rarely exchanged more than a few words every so often. But Jung-Hyun kept quietly counting to himself at regular intervals. It took you a while to figure out what he was doing, and when you did, you couldn’t hide your surprise.

“Jung-Hyun?”

It could have been days after the two of you had last seen sunlight, or even weeks. You were tired, as you so often were in that dark, cold room, and leaned against the side of his body, which, at least to you, seemed to grow hotter with each unknown hour that passed. Though that might just be because you were getting a cold. Your throat had started to become scratchy, and you had caught yourself before you could sneeze more than once.

The answer didn’t come until after he had finished counting. “Yes?”

“Are you maybe counting the thuds from upstairs?”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Some of them are footsteps.”

“And?”

“I want to know how many there are.”

“Why would you want to know that?”

He didn’t respond. You felt a chill crawl down your back and curled up into a ball. Your stomach growled, but that wasn’t the biggest concern you had at that moment. You needed to go to the bathroom.

Over the course of your stay, a woman you presumed to be Yoo-Jin, the “boss’ girlfriend” and apparently the person who chose the building you and Jung-Hyun had been brought to, visited regularly. You only knew she was a woman thanks to her physique, since she, too, wore a balaclava to disguise her facial features. And though she never spoke to you, you were always grateful to see her.

It was only thanks to Yoo-Jin’s visits that the two of you received food, albeit nothing but a few spoonfuls of rice and half a bottle of water that you needed to share, and the chance to relieve yourselves. She also helped you cling to a semblance of an awake and sleep rhythm, since she came two times over a stretch of time before being gone for what felt like a much longer duration.

Occasionally, you thought you caught a flash of regret in Yoo-Jin’s light brown eyes whenever your gazes accidentally met. Her body motions and unavoidable mannerisms also quite obviously belonged to a timid person. You didn’t think she was fully on board with the criminal activity conducted by her supposed boyfriend - or girlfriend - and his - or her - underlings.

But she didn’t stop them either.  

Yoo-Jin’s visits might have been a good chance for you and Jung-Hyun to escape. However, the woman was always accompanied by at least three armed men. Their eyes never strayed far away from Jung-Hyun, who barely moved whenever they showed up.

That was another concerning element. It was only during Yoo-Jin’s brief stays that you were able to gauge Jung-Hyun’s physical state for more than a few seconds, and each time, your heart sank.

Bruises and scrapes aside, Jung-Hyun looked as if though he had been tied up and beaten like a dog. And you wouldn’t be surprised if that’s exactly what happened to him. Because whenever the door opened and Yoo-Jin wasn’t there, you knew that Jung-Hyun would be dragged out of the room. The first times a handful of men had barged in to get Jung-Hyun, you tried to fight them, but all that earned you was a slap hard enough to send you whirling to the ground. Jung-Hyun had said nothing, but there had been a silent pleading in his brown eyes for you to stay still.

And so, you obeyed. You did not cry; you did not scream. Even if it felt like an eternity passed before he returned. Even if he sometimes returned drenched. Even if he always returned with fresh bruises.

Even if you were absolutely terrified at the prospect of being left alone in the dark.

“Do you think Yoo-Jin will be here soon?” you asked.

“Yes. I can hear her footsteps.”

You frowned, and even though you could not see, you found yourself staring skyward. “How can you make out hers from everyone else’s? How do you even know which thuds are footsteps and which are just random sounds?”

“I guess, mostly. But hers are easy to identify - she’s the only one who doesn’t walk like they teach you to do in the military.”

You swallowed. At the mention of the military, you couldn’t help but be reminded of Jong-Yeol, who still couldn’t get rid of his old habits while being in service. And that hurt.

Because as soon as you thought about Jong-Yeol, your thoughts inadvertently always veered further. Toward your mother, who probably was busy hiring a whole army of detectives, if not even mercenaries, to find you. Toward your father, who most likely had buried himself in work to forget about his worries at least temporarily - and whose weak health gnawed constantly on your mind. Toward Se-Eun, who you hoped would be able to concentrate on her life even with the heavy cloud of concern that surely hung over her regarding your disappearance.

Toward Jungkook, whose career you prayed your disappearance wasn’t disturbing.

Even though you still could not remember the last time you and he had met, you knew that there was something you needed to tell him. Or was it the other way around? Your head felt like it would burst whenever you started thinking about the strange pain in your heart that surfaced whenever Jungkook’s name appeared in your mind.

And so, once more, you pushed all your thoughts of the outside world aside and focused on the present.

“Oh,” you uttered weakly. “That’s a good point. But how many do you think they are?”

“Anywhere from nine to fifteen.”

“Oh. Is that a lot?”

“Yes.”

The conversation fizzled out just like that. You didn’t know what it was, but Jung-Hyun’s silent disposition seemed to grow more and more dominant the longer you remained in that room. He didn’t stay close to you either, not unless you asked him first. And when he did wrap his arm around you, it felt reluctant, but not in the way reluctance might normally feel like. It didn’t feel like he was avoiding you on purpose.

Rather, that he avoided you because he needed to.

Sometimes, when the cold wasn’t so horrible, you fell asleep alone. If you had to be honest, you didn’t really want to since Jung-Hyun was so irresistibly warm and just… large. It was stupid, but when you fell asleep next to him, it felt like you were protected.

Like things weren’t so bad, after all.

Anyway, one day, or night - or really, anything - you woke to the sound of him huffing and panting strenuously. Your first thought was to ask him what was going on, but you refrained in the last second. While pretending that you were still asleep, you kept your breathing calm and somewhat noisy, and continued to listen. Soon, there were quiet clapping strewn in between the heavy breaths.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Jung-Hyun? What are you doing?”

It went deathly quiet. You almost thought you were stuck in a dream - or rather, a nightmare - when Jung-Hyun’s stiff, somber and slightly out of breath voice broke the silence.

“I’m exercising.”

Your eyes widened. “What? Are you out of your mind?”

“I need to keep my body strong if I want to get out of here.”

“But you’re hurt!” You scrambled in the direction of his voice and bumped into his back. “You need to rest,” you said and grabbed his shoulders. They were hot to your touch.

“When I get out of here, I will. Until then, I cannot afford to.”

“You’re acting crazy,” you said, your heart squirming with fear at the thought of Jung-Hyun having lost his mind.

“Maybe. But my thoughts are still mine.”

“You’re hurt,” you said again. “What have they been doing to you?”

No reply.

“Jung-Hyun,” you said firmly, no longer patient enough for a future explanation. “Answer me.”

“They want to know the secrets of my late boss.”

“And?”

“...I don’t understand.”

“What have you told them?”

“Nothing.”

“Is that all they want from you?” you wondered, your concern morphing into anger, a much more easily manageable emotion.

“It seems that way.”

“Then just tell them!”

“I can’t. I don’t know who their boss is but it’s clear he or she isn’t loyal to the Hwan Song Sung Pa.”

Your grip around Jung-Hyun’s shoulders tightened. “You’re not a part of this scene anymore,” you told him. “Why not just tell them what they want to know and get out of here?”

“Do you think they’ll just let me go after that?”

A flicker of irritation had entered Jung-Hyun’s stiff, somber and usually emotionless voice for once. You pursed your lips and loosened your hold of his shoulders. “I guess not,” you said dejectedly.

There was a long pause. You were just about to withdraw to the corner you had been sleeping in when a hand came to rest on top of yours.

“Thank you.”

His gesture and words startled you. “For what?”

“For worrying about me,” said Jung-Hyun in a calm tone. “But you really shouldn’t. Think about yourself first, (Y/N).”

“It sounds like you’re going to leave me.”

“I’m not. But you’ll leave this place before me.”

“We’ve already discussed this,” you said with a frown. “We’re walking out together.”

“That’s not possible.”

You backed away from him with a sigh, too frustrated to be near him, even less touch him. But your rising levels of frustration weren’t caused solely because of him.

Because you, too, knew, deep down, that the chances for Jung-Hyun to leave that basement as a free man were slim to none.

More time passed. Again, it was impossible to say whether days or months or just a few hours had passed. You and Jung-Hyun exchanged even fewer words than ever before, but your roles had reversed after the last argument. It was you who shied away from physical contact and communication, and it wasn’t until Jung-Hyun offered his warmth that you even considered touching him. Your stubbornness would come to bite you in the backside, however, for within a handful of visits from Yoo-Jin, you started coughing.

Strangely, this elicited a new development in Yoo-Jin’s visits. Both your and Jung-Hyun’s bowls were filled with more rice, and she even came with what looked like leftover soup. There weren’t many ingredients remaining within it, but it was still hot enough to burn your tongue and therefore more than you would have ever dared to ask for. One time, Yoo-Jin even brought you a thick, knitted cardigan you could wear.

“Thank you for everything.”

You were inside the bathroom combined washroom that was situated next to the stairs leading up to the ground level. Yoo-Jin was inside as well, probably to keep an eye on you, but she stood with her back toward you as you finished your business.

Now, you weren’t going to lie, you had imagined sneaking up behind her and knocking her out numerous times. But you knew that would benefit neither you nor Jung-Hyun. The men were still waiting on the other side of the door and the window was barred from the outside. Also, to be honest, you didn’t want to harm her. Sure, she hadn’t done anything to help you, but you doubted she had much choice in the matter, considering her relationship with the men’s boss.

“What?”

Yoo-Jin’s voice was sharp, but not even nearly as piercing as your mother’s, and you shrugged it off easily.

“For the food and the cardigan,” you replied as you washed your hands in the dilapidating sink. The fact that clean water somehow could run through the rusted faucet shocked you every time you touched the sluggish handles.

“Can’t have you getting pneumonia or something serious like that. Not with all the money you have on your head.”

“Ah,” you said, hesitating before you spoke again. “How… how much time has passed since I was brought here?”

Yoo-Jin turned around. “Are you done?” she asked harshly instead of responding.

“Yes,” you replied immediately.

“Then get moving.”

You scratched your arm and continued to do that even after you had been locked inside the dark room again. It had been dark outside as well, you had seen that through the frosted window. But you still had no idea where you might be. Or well, judging by the occasional car rumbling past over the seemingly countless of times you had been to the nearly disintegrating bathroom, you had to be somewhat near civilization. And the orange light you had seen belonged to a street lamp most likely.

Jung-Hyun had said that the men - and Yoo-Jin - were the Hwan Song Sung Pa’s Seoul subunit. But Seoul was huge. You knew its inner parts very well, and could probably find your way home so long as you could see the Han River. But without any point of interest in sight, you would have no way of knowing where to go once you and Jung-Hyun escaped.

Because, yes. You were still fixed on the idea of getting out of that room together with him. Partly because you just straight up refused the notion of leaving him there, all alone and with nobody to lean on. And partly because you found it eerie that you hadn’t been bought out by your parents already. If you now were a hostage, why hadn’t you been extracted? What was taking your parents so long? Money, your only way of escaping, couldn’t be the issue.

Right?

Even more time elapsed. Your restlessness fueled your frustration over your and Jung-Hyun’s predicament, until it reached a point where pure hopelessness clutched your senses. You were colder than ever and started feeling more apathetic despite the increasing portion sizes of your daily food intake. Perhaps Yoo-Jin noticed, because you suddenly found pieces of grilled meat and kimchi hidden underneath your rice. Although you were thankful and your body truly relished the taste of something other than the same dry rice and hot but runny soup, her efforts did nothing to stop the growing hole inside your chest.

Jung-Hyun also seemed to have noticed the shift in your attitude. He talked more, which would have made you glad ordinarily, but this wasn’t your normal world. This was a nightmare with no ending or beginning, a constant circle of the same things coming and going.

Were you going to be stuck down there forever?

Click .

You had barely registered the sound of the door unlocking before two sets of hands pulled you off the floor. Your eyelids flew open, and you found yourself propped up on your feet by a masked man on one side of you each. The silhouette of a third man towered above you in the doorway.

“Now, now, no need to stand up.”

The man in the doorway’s words had been aimed to your right, where Jung-Hyun was slowly getting to his feet. Your heart threatened to break as you took in his appearance. He was more bruised than ever, with scrapes covering practically every inch of skin that wasn’t hidden underneath his now dirty, bloody t-shirt and sweatpants, and he pressed a hand against the side of his stomach where you remembered that he had been cut. He couldn’t even stand straight and had to lean with his whole body against the bare wall.

“Her ransom has been paid,” said the man. “I’m only here to escort her to the exchange point.”

Immediately, Jung-Hyun deflated. Relief smoothed the tight expression he until then had been wearing, and he slowly sat down again. You, on the other hand, wasn’t so glad.

“I’m not going without him,” you said. Although you had hoped to sound demanding, your voice was weak and even broke toward the end of the sentence.

“Don’t be difficult, little heiress. We’re taking you to freedom.”

This caused the man on your left to snicker, and you tensed. “No. Either Jung-Hyun’s coming with me, or I’m staying.”

“Don’t listen to her.”

You stared at Jung-Hyun in disbelief. He wouldn’t look at you, however, and kept his eyes firmly planted onto the man in the door opening. “Just take her with you, Jun-Ho.”

The man in the door opening, or Jun-Ho, glared back. “Don’t say my name, you dog. Boss isn’t here to stop me from giving you exactly what you deserve, so you better fucking show some respect, traitor.”

Traitor? You sent Jung-Hyun an inquisitive glance, which he ignored.

“What’s wrong with me saying your name, Jun-Ho?” he asked in the most playfully taunting tone you had ever heard from him. It wasn’t much, but it was such a stark difference to his usual voice level that your jaw fell open.

“Get her out of here,” said Jun-Ho without breaking eye contact with Jung-Hyun.

“Really?” asked the man left to you.

The one to the right of you also spoke. “But I thought you were desperate to--”

“Shut the fuck up and go. I’ll join you and the others soon.” Jun-Ho dropped some familiar-looking fabric and plastic ropes in the hallway and cracked his knuckles as he stepped into the room. “I just need to show this dog his place.”

“Are you sure we should leave?”

“Look at him!” exclaimed Jun-Ho as he gestured in Jung-Hyun’s direction. “This piece of dog shit can’t even stand up straight!”

“But still, he’s--”

“I know who he is,” said Jun-Ho sharply and produced a pair of matching brass knuckles from the back of his jeans. “But not even the Black Dog can bite after all the beating he’s been fed. Can you even feel your face, Jung-Hyun?”

“Jung-Hyun!” you called out, desperately digging your naked heels into the concrete floor as you tried to tear yourself out of the men’s grip. “I’m not leaving without you!”

“Just go.”

His voice was gentle, almost painfully so. You nearly wrung every muscle in your neck in your attempt to look back at him as the two men forcefully pulled you into the hallway, but caught nothing but a reassuring nod from Jung-Hyun before a blindfold covered your vision. You punched and kicked and struggled, causing both of the men to swear profusely, but managed in the end nothing. You were bound, gagged and carried away and upward with tears soaking through the thick strip of fabric wound around your head.

“(Y/N) bit someone - mind telling me who it was?”

That was the last you heard of Jung-Hyun before a door closed behind you, and his familiar voice - and presence - was no longer.

Your fighting spirit withered. What could you do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing, except for sending a prayer to the universe that Jung-Hyun would be alright. That he wouldn’t die or have to suffer before you would come back to him.

Because once you got out, you were going to invest every won Phoenix Inc. had in order to find and save him.

The loud, cheerful sounds from the TV were so alien to you, you suddenly fell in a daze. Because it felt like you were hallucinating. Perhaps you really had lost your mind in the blackness and were nothing but dreaming at the moment. Perhaps the sharp smell of cigarette smoke and the heavy sweetness of soju and beer and something else was just a figment of your imagination.

Perhaps the feeling of being carried up another set of stairs was just your delusional mind playing a trick on you.

Wake up, you told yourself. Wake up, you crazy woman. Wake up!

But you didn’t. No matter how hard you tried, the whole world remained dark. No matter how hard you tried to envision yourself back in the pitch black room that had been your prison for who knows how long, you couldn’t regain consciousness.

That’s when the horrific realization dawned upon you - you weren’t dreaming. You were in reality.

And the two men weren’t taking you outside.

With a terror you could have never imagined even in your worst nightmares, you wriggled and struggled against the men, who were holding you like you were a heavy package. The man holding you by your legs dropped you as you managed to get in a nice kick with both of your feet and all the strength you managed to muster. You yelled into the gag as your heels collided against the hard edge of a step on the staircase, but the pain was still overshadowed by your fear. It felt like there was a tiny crawling creature growing rapidly inside your stomach, like those monsters from the Alien movies, and it was doing its best to eat its way out of your chest. You would have actually almost preferred that, because at least the fear would have escaped your body and would no longer be your problem.

But now, it simply stayed in your system, suffocating you, consuming you up from the inside.

“Fuck! Stay still, you bitch!”

A punch in your stomach nearly made you throw up. Your throat stung as the taste of bile filled your mouth, and you knew you would have puked if you had more food in your stomach.

“Mmm!”

Despite your breathlessness, you managed to muster a scream as a pair of hands returned to your legs. You screamed again, until it felt like your lungs would collapse, yet you still couldn’t even drown out the sounds coming from the TV below.

Or the growing sounds of people - men - conversing.

“We’ve brought her!”

You groaned as you were thrown onto what felt like a rugged carpet. Your cheek and knees burned against the scratchy material, and the smell of something sour penetrated your nostrils. Although you tried your best to situate yourself upright, you couldn’t do more than just lay there on your stomach. An unnatural silence fell around you and even the TV sounded like it was several miles away.

Because you knew you were far from alone.

Your heart slammed harder against the inner side of your ribcage than ever, and you could hear your blood rushing through your ears as the silence continued. You felt several pairs of eyes on you, and the sensation made your skin crawl with unease.

Please, just be a dream.

But it still wasn’t.

You felt like a prey that had wandered straight into a group of predators. An immobilized, defenseless prey in a den of hungry, greedy predators with no sense of human morals and ethics. You couldn’t even see. You couldn’t even talk.

You could only hear and feel their hands.

Of course, you tried everything. You tried to roll out of range even though it felt like your shoulders were going to dislocate. You tried to get the gag out of your mouth in order to bite whoever and whatever came near. You tried to kick and squirm and pose as much of a threat as you could.

However, all that your struggles rewarded you with was a continued series of laughter. Raw, cold laughter that couldn’t possibly belong to another human.

“Should we take off the gag?”

“Gag stays,” said a second voice. “The fuck are you looking at me like that for? Didn’t Gyoung-Su show you his wound? He nearly lost his finger! You want her to bite off your dick?”

A third voice laughed. “I don’t think Dae-Chul would mind. He always has the craziest girlfriends.”

More laughter. Too many for you to actually place.

“Untie her and hold her down, for fuck’s sake. I can’t get it up when she’s rolling around like a crazy bitch.”

You stopped breathing. You recognized that grouchy voice. It was the man who had carried you down to the basement in the first place.

“Oh? She went still.”

“I think she recognizes your voice, Gyoung-Su! Isn’t that cute?”

There was more laughter, but you barely registered it. A cigarette-heavy breath rolled off your cheek, causing every hair on your body to stand on edge, and a pair of lips brushed against your ear.

“We’ve got a score to settle, you heavy bitch. Or well, I guess I shouldn’t call you that since you don’t look so heavy anymore. I think I actually like how you look now.”

You felt the fabric grow wet against your eyes again, even more so than earlier, and your body started shaking uncontrollably in terror. You couldn’t even flinch away from him as you felt a hand ghost down your back and squeeze your backside.

“Aw, fuck, Gyoung-Su! How can you be that close to her? She stinks all the way from here.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I could fuck her even if I got paid.”

“Don’t be pussies,” said the grouchy-voiced man whose name you now knew was Gyoung-Su. “I know you’re afraid of what the boss will say, but if we all keep out mouths shut about it, he won’t know. And to ensure that you pussies keep your word, you need to stick your dick in her. Now untie her!”

“But isn’t she still a hostage?” It was the younger man’s voice, the guy who had untied you and taken away the blindfold and gag when you first were brought to the basement. “And what about Yoo-Jin?”

“Boss’ bitch is sleeping with earphones on as usual. She won’t hear anything.”

“Haven’t you watched the news lately, kid? Her company is on the border of ruins! Her family will never be able to pay the ransom.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Phoenix Inc. in ruins? How could that have happened? Was it because you had been kidnapped? But no, your parents could have just stepped in again, even if it risked your father’s health. It couldn’t be something like that.

“Yeah, and even if they will, it won’t be soon. We’d all have to work our fucking asses off for the rest of our lives to pay that stupid amount.”

“Doesn’t that make you mad, though? This rich bitch probably spent that amount every week. Enough money for a whole family to live comfortably for the rest of their lives. Don’t you think she should pay for her greed?”

“Well,” said the younger man’s voice. “I guess you can put it that way…”

“That’s more like it. Now shut your mouth unless you want your hyungs to do it for you.”

You didn’t know how many pairs of hands struggled with your plastic ropes, but you were determined, despite your crippling fear, to not just give in. You couldn’t lose this battle without a proper fight. In fact, if you just managed to kick or punch someone, you would allow yourself the win.

You would allow yourself to forget what was surely going to happen to you.

You weren’t able to do either of those things, however. For just before the ropes came loose, which was the moment you had waited to pounce, a cold, metal piece pressed against your left shoulder blade.

“I know what you’re thinking, bitch,” said Gyoung-Su. “But you’re not going to do anything unless you want a bullet through your spine. Or--” the cold sensation moved upward, toward your head, and stopped on your bottom. “--here. Understood?”

You nodded so frantically the tip of your nose scratched against the mat, completely choked up with fear to even utter a yelp.

“Good. Now, who wants--”

Gyoung-Su wasn’t able to finish his sentence. Because as soon as the pressure from the pistol disappeared, you counted to two and punched in the direction of his voice, which had still been close to your ear. Even though your strike had been in an awkward, backswing angle, you still felt something relatively soft bend underneath your knuckles. Something warm sprayed across your knuckles, and although you had begun scrambling to your knees in order to further hit Gyoung-Su in a blind but desperate rage, a pair of hands managed to catch fistfuls of your hair. Another pair grabbed your wildly swinging arms and held them over your head.

You yelled into the fabric inside your mouth as you were dragged away from a howling Gyoung-Su, but it was more out of disappointment than pain. You wanted to hurt him so much more. Until the point he couldn’t even open his mouth anymore. Until you could get rid of the disgusting feeling coating every cell that he had touched.

“Fuck, is she really a conglomerate heiress? She’s fucking insane!”

“Yeah, I’m not touching her.”

A tiny ray of hope illuminated your fear-clouded heart. This was good. If they thought you were too disgusting and crazy to touch, then you would be safe. You would probably still not be able to get out of there since you were still blind. But at least they would take you down to the basement, back to Jung-Hyun, where you could together plan an escape. You were going to survive this.

However, even that tiny ray was extinguished as a third voice spoke.

“Are you kidding? These are the fun ones!”

To your horror, someone started forcing up your skirt while the two men who had grabbed your hands and hair respectively grabbed you with renewed strength. You attempted to worm out of their clutches, but they weren’t underestimating your strength anymore and held you so hard you lost feeling in your scalp and hands. Tears gathered anew in the corners of your eye as a sickly sweet soju breath washed over your nose, and it was only barely you managed to dodge away from the mouth that accompanied that breath. The man didn’t seem to mind, however. He started licking your cheek, his stubble scratching your skin like microscopic razor blades, while he forced his body between your legs. Your muffled screams turned into pitiful sobs as the sound of an unbuckling belt reached your ears, and the already bottomless dread inside your chest tripled as he merely snickered in response.

“This is going to hurt, little heiress. But don’t hold back - I like hearing your voice.”

You wished you could have just passed out due to all the panic accumulating within you. You wished there was some kind of mental technique that you could use to just turn off all your senses. You wished you could die on command, and as the man’s fingers reached the waistband of your underwear, you screamed at your heart to stop beating.

And suddenly, you felt nothing.

For a moment, you really thought you had died. You had heard stories about ancient warriors and devoted servants who were able to kill themselves using nothing but mental strength, but you had thought those were nothing but legends. Had you perhaps been stupid for thinking that?

No. Reality soon settled when you realized the faint pounding sound in the back of your head was the rhythm of your heart. However, nobody was holding you down and you were able to squeeze your legs together again. There was another distant sound, a wet, repeating sound that crystallized the more you focused on it. Still, you couldn’t fully put your finger on what it was.

Not until you reached up for your blindfold and untied it.

The room you found yourself in was in utter chaos. Rotting furniture, dirty clothes, soju bottles, beer cans, empty takeaway boxes lay scattered everywhere. Moonlight poured in through the barred windows, drenching everything in a pallid light, and the sour smell of old sweat and spilled alcohol, mixed with something darker, something heavier, something metallic made you wrinkle your nose. And it wasn’t difficult to understand why.

For spread throughout the room, just like the rotting furniture, dirty clothes, soju bottles, beer cans and empty takeaway boxes, were the bodies of fourteen men.

Their balaclavas had all been torn off. Some wore guises of shock, others of fear while one or two looked like they had expected to die. Among the lattermost was the owner of the younger male’s voice, whose eyes you recognized. Nobody moved.

All except for one.

You didn’t know who it was. If it was Gyoung-Su, or the man who had pulled up your skirt. It did not matter, though.

Because nobody, not even the two of them, deserved the ruthless, methodical beating Jung-Hyun inflicted on them.

“Jung-Hyun?”

Even though the tape had made a loud tearing sound in the deathly silent that dominated the whole house, which you realized it was, he didn’t react. It wasn’t until you spoke his name that he froze, mid-punch.

“Jung-Hyun?” you whispered again.

“I saved him for last. The man who was on top of you.”

You shivered, but not because you were cold. Because although you understood mentally that it was Jung-Hyun who had replied, it didn’t feel like him. It felt like another person, a stranger, had replaced him. It felt as if though he was possessed.

“Okay,” you said as you shakily pulled down your skirt and got to your feet. “But don’t you think you’ve done enough? He’s barely breathing.”

“Yes. I wanted to drag this out for as long as I could.”

“Please,” you pleaded and took a tentative step toward him. “It’s enough, Jung-Hyun. Please stop.”

“I will. But not yet.”

And with that, he slammed the man’s head into the edge of a table. First once, then twice. Then again when a piece of the table broke. Then again when that piece broke. Then against the floor.

Jung-Hyun kept going until there no longer was a head you could distinguish.

When his grip of the man’s neck finally loosened, it almost felt reluctant. His face was shadowed by his own silhouette, but you saw that he kept looking at the bloody and beaten body. Like he was waiting for it to just rise again. Or perhaps secretly wishing it would.

Just so that he could break him again.

However, when Jung-Hyun finally turned to face you, there were tears in his eyes. Tears of relief, sadness, shock - perhaps all of them combined.

He reached out for you with a blood-soaked hand. “(Y/N)--”

The next word never reached your ears. Because in that instant, your whole world was torn asunder by a sound so loud your hearing went missing temporarily.  

A gunshot.

“And… smile!”

The umbrellas lighted up the room, causing you temporary blindness. You rapidly blinked, the black dots fading as your eyes readjusted to the pastel walls, the countless of fake white and pink roses surrounding you and the portly man standing behind the camera positioned in front of you.

He held up a hand, which formed the universal “okay” sign. “Lovely, lovely,” he said eagerly. “Now, if you could just tilt your head a little more to the side and point your chin toward your right…”

You silently complied and was rewarded with another delighted squeak from the man, followed by a flash of light. “Yes, just like that! And if you could perhaps move your arm like this--,” he demonstrated with his left arm, and you obeyed, “--yes! Lovely! I have to admit,” he went on with a broad grin, “that you're the prettiest bride I have ever seen, (Y/F/N). Your fiancé is one lucky man.” The camera clicked and the umbrellas flared up again.

“Thank you, Seong-Ho,” you said after your vision returned to you. “I’ll make sure to send your regards to the hair and makeup team.”

Seong-Ho tsked several times while browsing through a laptop that was situated on top of the thin, wooden desk next to the tripod. “Makeup and that is merely to accentuate what’s already there. No, it takes real beauty for it to carry over from real life to a still image. Come here, little miss, and take a look at how beautiful you are. Your friend can come, too.”

Se-Eun, who had been on the border of falling asleep, bounced up from the sofa in the back corner of the room, an anticipatory look across her features. When she reached Seong-Ho’s side, her eyebrows rose. “Jesus, (Y/N). You look like you belong in an advertisement.”

You rose from the lush, dark velvet armchair you had been perched upon. Carefully, as not to disturb the corded lace or the well-ironed, silky material beneath it, you bundled up the front part of the ball gown in your hands before tiptoeing toward the table, wary of the three inch heels you wore. The inner parts of your upper arms chafed slightly against the silvery white beading and sequins across the tight bodice, and you were already getting tense in your neck from the countless of hair-colored pins, chains of tiny pearls, decorative clips or pieces of lace that were integrated into your updo. You didn’t voice any complaints, however.

Beauty was pain - and especially for a bride at the end of her marriage preparations.

Seong-Ho tsked again and gave Se-Eun a sharp glance. “Even the chief editors of High Cut would fight for a picture - and a model - as perfect as this. Don’t give her a compliment like that.”

Se-Eun’s eyes flitted over to you briefly before darting back to the screen, but that was enough for you to discern the uncertainty in them. She hadn’t meant her comment to be a compliment.

“Sorry,” she said meekly. “You’re beautiful, (Y/N).”

Seong-Ho pointed accusingly at Se-Eun while looking at you. “She’s your best friend?”

“The one and only,” you replied with a smile.

He rolled his eyes when Se-Eun winked at him. By then, you had reached the desk. They parted so that you could finally see the picture, the former wearing an expectant expression while the latter seemed concerned as you regarded the image of yourself for a few seconds too long for your response to come out genuine. And Se-Eun was right. Even though a part of you enjoyed the way you had turned out in a professional photography, beautified from head to toe, at the height of your youth and with a gorgeous, Old European-style backdrop, you spotted the reason why Se-Eun was worried.

The look in your eyes was anything but happy and excited. Yet, you didn’t look devastated or nervous at all. Lifeless. That would be the best word to describe it. Lifeless like models on advertisments posters. Like a pretty doll in a dollhouse.

And worst of all, you didn’t feel anything stir within you even as you recognized and acknowledged that fact.

“It came out very pretty,” you told Seong-Ho. “Thank you.”

“Sit down again, Miss.” He waved you back to the armchair and then called out to a girl about your age, most likely an intern, where she was standing next to the door. “Hee-Ra, bring in her fiancé.”

Hee-Ra lowered a bouquet of roses you just until recently had held onto the desk before disappearing. She returned a few umbrella flashes later, alone. “Sorry, but he isn’t done with hair and makeup yet.”

Seong-Ho groaned over his shoulder. “When did he get here?” he asked her.

“About twenty minutes ago,” she replied after glancing at her wristwatch.

Seong-Ho turned back toward you. “How come he has to work even on a day as important as today?” he asked you with a slight frown.

“He was recently promoted to be one of six department heads at Phoenix Inc.,” you explained calmly. “He cannot afford free time.”

“Not even an hour?” asked Seong-Ho incredulously.

You shook your head as gently as you could as not to upset the precarious balance of your hair. “Unfortunately, no. Not even an hour.”

Seong-Ho tsked, but didn’t say anything else. Ten minutes later and enough flashes to make you see dots before your eyes, the door opened, revealing Jung-Hyun in the doorway. Both Se-Eun and Hee-Ra gaped at him, their eyes scouring his tall stature from head to toe in an utterly dazzled state, and Seong-Ho’s earlier disdain disappeared like water from a shattered vase. You simply smiled.

Jung-Hyun looked nothing less than striking. Dressed in a tuxedo as dark as the night with various accents of deep blue and white gold, he looked as if though he had stepped out of a male clothing commercial. Normally, his height and physique generated him enough positive attention as they so were, but now that he had received professional makeup and hair styling, he looked just as good as any actor, if not even better. It wasn’t difficult to imagine him as some rich business heir and the male protagonist in a well-produced drama or movie.

Jung-Hyun’s eyes took in the room’s inhabitants, and though they had paused on Se-Eun while he nodded at her, they only paused briefly. When they finally landed on you, he didn’t seem to be able to tear his eyes away from you. The usually unreadable guise he wore crumbled ever so slightly as he took in your appearance, and you could almost swear there was affection in his gaze.

It would have made you blush if not for the dread his oh-so familiar brown eyes stirred within you.

“Jung-Hyun-oppa,” you said quickly as you tried to push an unwanted memory out of your mind. “How was work?”

He wasn’t allowed to answer before Seong-Ho cut in. “I’m Lee Seong-Ho, the best wedding photographer in Seoul,” said Seong-Ho as he hurried forward, hand outreached. “Yet, I don’t think I’m good enough to photograph the two of you, especially not in less than thirty minutes. Are you still sure you want my services?”

Jung-Hyun took Seong-Ho’s hand without hesitation and shook it firmly, which surprised you considering the former’s injuries. “Jeon Jung-Hyun,” he began with a slight smile. “And I’m sure that the best wedding photographer in Seoul is more than capable of taking a few pictures of me and my fiancée.”

His stiff, somber voice had a strange amount of warmth in it compared to when he spoke with you. It didn’t offend you, however, since you had come to learn that Jung-Hyun, when he wanted to, had an incredibly persuasive way with people no matter their sex and contrary to the strict air he had about himself. The fact that he used that tone with people that weren’t you or Se-Eun, made you relieved, actually. Because it made the receiver of Jung-Hyun’s words almost glow with confidence and pride and some kind of deep-rooted gratefulness despite not personally knowing Jung-Hyun. It was eerie, to say the least.

“I feel honored,” continued Jung-Hyun, “that you were able to take us even though I’m sure your list of customers is filled with substantially more famous men and women.”

Seong-Ho reacted no differently than the dozens of other people you had witnessed being subjected to Jung-Hyun’s influence. Even Hee-Ra seemed affected, and Se-Eun - though she would deny it with all her might - looked enthralled as well.

“But of course!” exclaimed Seong-Ho as he continued shaking Jung-Hyun’s hand eagerly. “I don’t know which one of you is the luckiest,” he went on, turning to glance at you. “The two of you look made for one another. I wish you all the happiness, truly.”

Jung-Hyun didn’t even twitch at the continuous assault on his hand, even though you knew he must be in pain. “Thank you,” he said merely.

“Come,” said Seong-Ho hurriedly as he practically dragged a man twice as tall as him toward you. “Let’s hurry with the shoot. Hee-Ra, adjust the lights please. And (Y/N)’s friend, bring another armchair from the outside please. Until then, let’s try have the groom stand behind the bride with his hands on her shoulders. Is that alright?” he added, directing the inquiry to you and Jung-Hyun.

“Sure,” you said, smiling.

“Are you serious?” said Se-Eun as she put her hands on her hips. “Look at me! Do you really think I can carry an armchair by myself?”

Seong-Ho waved her off. “Hee-Ra, will help you when she’s done with the lights. You could at least try on your own, though.” His eyes met yours, and he grinned. “Now, let’s begin!”

Jung-Hyun wordlessly went to stand behind you and did as Seong-Ho had instructed. His hands were cool, but not as cool as yours. You had never wanted to scratch your arm so badly as when Seong-Ho positioned himself behind the camera again, but knew you couldn’t. If only because your manicured nails would make quite the visible rash marks.

“It was fine,” said Jung-Hyun suddenly, his words only barely perceivable.

“What?” you asked as you tried not to move your mouth while talking, which was nothing compared to Se-Eun’s ventriloquist-like ability. Though Hee-Ra was setting up the lights differently with Seong-Ho’s guidance, meaning he wasn’t really taking any pictures yet, you didn’t want to disturb the duo or dilute the sheen of the lip gloss, which you had done several times already, much to Seong-Ho’s dismay.

“You asked me about work.”

You almost slapped yourself in the forehead. “Oh, right, of course. That’s good to hear.”

“How was your day?”

“Boring,” you replied. “I’ve been stuck here since eight and wasn’t even allowed to go to the bathroom until after about eleven when they were done with the nails.”

“I see.”

“When do you have to get back?” you asked as your stomach rumbled. “Do you have time to grab some lunch with me before that?”

“Unfortunately not. I have a meeting to get back to by two. Why don’t you ask Se-Eun?”

“She has tennis practice, and an important one. She’s competing this Saturday.”

His fingers squeezed your shoulders softly. It was a strangely tender gesture, one of many you had had to get used to ever since you had told Jung-Hyun about your new thoughts surrounding the marriage between you and him. However, you still hadn’t gotten used to the feeling of having Jung-Hyun touch you, even with the barrier that his bandages posed. “I’ll have to make sure and tell her good luck before we part, then.”

You lifted your own hand and placed it over Jung-Hyun’s. “She’d appreciate that,” you said.

Before you could withdraw your arm, Seong-Ho stopped you. “No!” he exclaimed heatedly. “Just have your fingers linger just like that, yes. And make sure that you don’t cover his ring!”

You obeyed. Seong-Ho snapped a few photos, and then smiled triumphantly. “Hee-Ra, don’t touch the lighting anymore. It’s perfect as it is. Move a few of the flowers away from the groom, and place them around her feet instead. And you--” he peered over his shoulder to find Se-Eun, who was hauling the armchair through the doorway by then, her cheeks flush with strain, “--hurry up! We only have until one-thirty!”

“These pictures better be worth it,” you heard Se-Eun grumble underneath her breath.

The photo shoot progressed smoothly after that. You and Jung-Hyun were directed into various positions, both sitting and standing, the most intimate being the one where you had to stare into each other's eyes lovingly. Seong-Ho wrapped up the session at 13.28, and told the two of you that samples would arrive to your parents’ apartment within a fortnight. The best one would be framed as well.

While getting out of your clothes and unlatching your hair in the dressroom, your phone vibrated, signifying a message. Your eyes widened when you read the sender’s name, and even though you knew you should hurry because of Jung-Hyun’s meeting, you afforded yourself a few extra moments to stare at the message.

It was Yoongi.

*13.34 - Do you have time to meet up this week? It’s about the wedding invitations.*

You gulped.

“(Y/N)?” There were several knocks on the door, followed by Se-Eun’s voice. “My mom’s here now. I have to go now, but I’ll call you later!”

“Yeah, bye!” you called absentmindedly. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen.

“You should hurry up - I saw Jung-Hyun exit his dressing room half a minute ago. He’s probably smoking outside.”

Your mouth moved automatically. “Okay, thanks for telling me.”

“(Y/N)...” Se-Eun hesitated, and you could hear a slight thud against the door as it shifted half a centimeter inward. Her next sentence brushed against the surface of the painted wood. “You really were beautiful today. I mean, you’re always beautiful in my opinion but, well… I just wanted to say that one more time before leaving.”

Her compliment warmed, but you were still too frozen with shock to smile. “You’re going to be late to practice,” you managed in what you hoped sounded like a teasing tone.

Se-Eun didn’t answer immediately, and it was almost as if you could hear her thoughts through the door. You let out a small breath before you went on softly, “What is it, Se-Eun?”

“It’s nothing,” she blurted - an obvious lie. “I was just thinking about how beautiful you were.”

“Don’t be a creep,” you told her gently. “Go now before your mother gets irritated."

“I know. I know!” You noticed how the door readjusted, as if she had removed the weight of her hands or perhaps even her head from it. “Bye, (Y/N)! See you tomorrow!” Her voice faded as she started away from the door.

“See you, Se-Eun.”

While getting properly dressed, you mused over the message. You considered not answering, but now that you had checked it, Yoongi would know you had read it without replying. Thus, you had no other option but to respond. But how?

Frankly, you had no real reason to avoid him if he wanted to meet you. You liked him, and you should be able to see him privately without feeling weird about it, despite… circumstances. Also, the two of you had met once before without any awkward silences or uncomfortable atmospheres.

If only Yoongi hadn’t mentioned the wedding, you wouldn’t mind meeting him again.

You could just say no. You could just say no and ask Yoongi to tell you what he wanted to say through text or a simple call. But a major part of you yearned to hear how he was doing. If he was eating and sleeping well and how their practices went now that he was recovered. If he was happy. And thus, even though it would hurt, you were ready to go through with the pain of meeting Yoongi and converse face-to-face.

*13.40 - I’m available now, actually. Have you had lunch yet?*

You told everyone at the studio goodbye before heading down the elevator to street level. The answer came by the time you and Jung-Hyun entered the car.

*13.42 - No. There’s a small bistro I frequent near the company.”

The acrid cigarette smoke filled your nostrils as Jung-Hyun shut the door on his side and Jong-Yeol began driving. You didn’t exactly hide the fact that you were texting someone, but you angled your phone slightly away from Jung-Hyun’s field of vision. If only to avoid questions that may arise from you exchanging messages with another guy.

*13.43 - A bistro sounds nice.*

*13.43 - I’ll send you the address.”

After checking the area and distance on a navigator app on your phone, you tapped another reply.

*13.45 - I’ll be there in half an hour.*

*13.45 - Alright.*

“Jong-Yeol,” you said, catching the chauffeur’s attention. You told him the address to the bistro, and though you felt Jung-Hyun regarding you briefly, he didn’t ask you about it. His attention had returned back to the passing city view when you felt the need to stir some kind of conversation.

“How is your hand?” you asked as you eyed his right fingers. “What did the doctor say?”

“It’s getting better.” Jung-Hyun held it up for you to see. The gauze that was wrapped tightly around his knuckles and palm was clean white, but since it had been changed the day before due to the photoshoot, it wasn’t that odd. You knew, however, that the wound was healing slowly, partly because he used his right hand so much and partly because he - similar to him - wasn’t careful with the injury. Blood had seeped through the wrapping on several occasions already. “But the cut is still not fully sealed yet. It’ll take another month, she told me, and I still need to eat antibiotics.”

“But you've had that wound since end of May!”

“I don't heal fast.”

You sighed. “At least you know you got a good set of knives from… one of your many friends, was it?”

His lips curved, and his eyes found yours, unreadable as usual. “Indeed,” he replied.

“You'd do best to stay away from future cooking classes as well. Since you broke your phone that time, too.”

“As you wish.”

“How’s the apartment coming together?” you asked as you fiddled with your phone in your hands. The prospect of meeting Yoongi was making you nervous, you couldn’t deny that.

“The remodeling will be finished by the end of September. We should be able to move in before October.”

You tried not to gulp. “Nervous?” you asked jokingly.

Jung-Hyun placed his uninjured hand on top of yours, which were still playing with your phone. You stilled at his touch.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he told you in the softest tone you had ever heard him use.

Your face flushed with color, and you had to look away. You spotted in your peripheral vision that Jung-Hyun’s smile widened infinitesimally before he withdrew and looked back out the car window again. The warmth in your cheeks remained even after you and him parted outside Phoenix Inc.’s Seoul headquarters, but had since long faded by the time Jong-Yeol dropped you off outside the bistro Yoongi had sent you the address to.

To be honest, you regretted your decision as soon as you stepped out of the car. But the slim, dark eyes of Min Yoongi caught yours from the second floor before you could find the cowardice - or perhaps, right sense of mind - to run. And so, despite feeling as if though every step was through quicksand, every breath felt as if though you were trying to swallow oil, and your heart was racing as if though you were sprinting like your life was on the line, you had no choice but to enter the establishment.

“Serenity” was a crossing between a coffee shop and a bakery with a lot of vegan options that directly correlated the non-vegan counterpart. How one made cheesecake without cheese confounded you enough to make you order it from the front desk together with a large iced latte. You meandered through the round tables scattered across the tiny bistro, excusing yourself at times when it became too tight of a squeeze between patrons.

Yoongi sat, alone, next to one of the windows on the second floor where people weren’t as frequent. He was bare-faced, and he donned normal street clothes. White earbuds were draped around his neck, and a pair of sunglasses dangled from the v-neck of the t-shirt he wore. As you approached his silent, unmoving shape, you felt your palms grow rapidly clammy, despite the ACs keeping Serenity at a comfortable room temperature. His gaze was focused outward, onto the streets below, as you sank down opposite to him and with an almost overwhelming urge to scratch the skin off of your arm.

“Hi,” you said as you gripped your iced latte and sipped it quickly. The beverage was cool and sweet and filled with caffeine, which was exactly what you needed a day as hot as that day.

Yoongi blinked as he turned back toward you. “You’re wearing unusually much makeup today,” he stated quietly and then touched his own, unstyled hair. “And you’ve got something here.”

“It was for the engagement pictures,” you explained as you raked your fingers sheepishly  through your hair. You caught a decorative clip with fake diamonds glued to the thin surface and dropped it into your purse. “Must have forgotten one,” you went on. “Is it too much? My face, that is.”

“I wouldn’t say too much, no.” Yoongi crossed his legs. “Did you take them this morning, or…?”

“Just now.” You finished his sentence with a half-hearted smile. “I left Jung-Hyun about fifteen minutes ago.”

“You must be excited,” he said, his tone neutral.

“Of course,” you replied.

“Is that why the wedding is set in the middle of August? In less than a month from today?”

You sighed. “I know it’s on a short notice, but I promise - I’m not pregnant.”

“Why so quickly then?” Yoongi tilted his head slightly as he continued. “Considering the fact that we got the invitations last week, it does seem suspicious.”

“Really, I’m not.” You sipped your drink. “I mean, you can’t really hide pregnancy.”

Yoongi’s eyes held yours, inspecting them for truth presumably, for a moment longer before he conceded. “No,” he said. “I believe you. But then, what’s the reason?”

“I… I don’t want to go into it,” you said stiffly.

The conversation halted after that. Yoongi had ordered an iced coffee without any dessert or anything, yet didn’t touch the half-finished beverage even once while you poked around in your cheesecake. You hadn’t actually been hungry, even when you asked Jung-Hyun to accompany you for lunch, and pushed the hand-sized plate away from you after a minute or two of poking the strawberry cheesecake apart with your fork.

“How--” you began at the same time Yoongi’s lips parted. With a small smile, you said, “You first.”

He shook his head and gestured for you to start. “No, go ahead.”

“Well…” You shifted your gaze elsewhere. “I was just going to ask how he is doing.”

You didn’t feel the need to clarify what you meant by “he”, and judging by Yoongi’s brief silence, you had been right. Your hands balled into tight fists as he spoke.

“I would like to say that he’s fine. And perhaps I could make you believe me, or at least want to believe me. But that would be a waste of time in the end, right?”

You nodded as you swallowed nervously.

“To put it simply: he’s been having meetings with the director. He wants to quit idoling.”

His words felt as if someone had struck you with a sledgehammer. Your eyes went wider than they have ever been, and you felt your breath hitch in the back of your throat. Instead of accelerating, your heart slowed down until it almost felt as if you had to will it to beat for you. You couldn’t believe what Yoongi had just said. “What?”

Yoongi’s jaw tensed. “He hasn’t told us that straight up, but it’s clear in the way he behaves. He hates it.”

“But his memory returned to him,” you said rapidly, your voice strained. “Even though it might be a bit confusing considering the last few months, he should be fine. All your songs, dance choreographies, memories together as a group… he’s returned to who he used to be. He’s whole again.”

“And he absolutely hates it.”

You felt your throat constrict, painfully, almost to the point where you couldn’t breathe. “But why?” you croaked out. “This is all he’s ever wanted. Even while amnesic, he kept going for the sake of his dream - why would he just give everything he’s fought for up like this?”

“Do I really have to answer that?” Yoongi’s tone had hardened, and so did his eyes as they settled on you. “Stop acting all ignorant and tell me the answer yourself.”

You averted your gaze.

“You’re not doing yourself a favor by acting stupid.”

You still didn’t respond.

He snorted. “Fine,” he began, his voice cool. “Let me illuminate you then: you are the reason Jungkook hates idoling.” When you opened your mouth to protest, Yoongi interjected. “Are you going to ask ‘why?’ to that as well? Or will you lift your head out of the sand and face reality?”

“But he has everything he wants.” You shook your head, completely in disbelief. “He has you, his hyungs, he has his fans… and he has Yi-Jae.”

“He broke up with her.”

You stared incredulously at Yoongi. “You cannot be serious,” you whispered.

“I am,” he told you earnestly, his slim, dark eyes regarding you closely. “As soon as you disappeared from eyesight, Jungkook--” you twitched at the mention, “--tried to run after you. Hoseok and Taehyung grabbed him, but it wasn’t until Sejin-hyung and some other managers came to help that we got him to stop completely.” Yoongi took a deep breath and gazed out of the window. “Though, if not for Namjoon and a slap from Jimin, Jungkook would have definitely caught up to you. And who knows what would have happened to either one of you if he had.”

Yoongi paused, evidently waiting for a reaction or a response from you, but you were paralyzed. He scratched the back of his head before continuing, his tone solemn.

“We managed to convince Jungkook back to the hair and makeup team since there was still a show to be had. Seokjin-hyung found Yi-Jae and led her to Jungkook in hopes she could calm him down, but he told her to… well, ‘go away’ is the nicest way I can put it. I haven’t seen them together ever since.”

“There’s been nothing about it in the news,” you said numbly.

“Neither of our companies have gone public with it yet.” Yoongi checked his phone. “It’s only a matter of time, though.”

You fidgeted in your seat. You didn’t know what to say.

“Have you tried calling him?”

“No,” you admitted as you crossed your arms over your chest. “No, I haven’t.”

“(Y/N).” Yoongi’s tone had softened, become low, barely above a murmur. “What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not scared,” you denied vehemently, an edge creeping into your tone. You glared at him, the mere accusation causing your temper to rise.

Yoongi leaned forward with his elbows onto the round wooden table. There was sympathy in his eyes, and even a touch of understanding underneath the otherwise hard guise as he crossed his hands and leaned his chin onto the small plateau they formed. “Then why don't you just admit the truth?”

Truth. For you to see the truth was what Se-Eun had told you after you had told her everything about Jungkook. And she in turn had gotten it from Yoongi, who was now repeating it to you. It was ridiculous, really. Parts of you jubilated with the word, yearned for the freedom it promised, but other parts of you, namely your mind, kept the rest of your system in check.

There was no truth, it had decided. Thus, no truth existed.

“What truth?” you snapped. “He’s a guy I grew up with and became forcefully engaged to at eighteen. He’s always been an utterly sardonic bastard, and in addition to that, he’s a cheating scumbag. There’s nothing more to it!”

People glanced nervously at you and Yoongi, and though the weight of their combined gazes made you uncomfortable, you didn’t really care. You were angry, increasingly so, and far more defensive than you liked.

Because what reason was there for you to feel defensive if there was no such thing as “truth”?

“He might be a cheating bastard,” said Yoongi quietly. “But you’re a lying coward.”

Your eyes narrowed at him, your next sentence getting caught in your throat. But before you could recover enough to voice a protest or retort, Yoongi went on.

“And worst of all, you’re too proud to admit the truth that’s as obvious as daylight in everyone else’s eyes but yours and Jungkook’s. So what if he’s a cheating bastard and you’re a lying coward - you--”

“Stop,” you tried, though he ignored you.

“--love him more than anything else in the world. Don’t you, (Y/N)?”

All the blood drained from your face. You simply sat there, staring at Yoongi, who had just said the most ridiculous, impossible, stupid, awful, frightening but true words you had ever heard. Because as horrible as it was to admit, even inside your head, you couldn’t deny it anymore - Jeon Jungkook was someone you loved. Utterly and undeniably. You absolutely loved him. For how long or why, you weren’t sure.

But when you even considered allowing yourself to love him, warmth filled you from head to toe, from the very core of your being to your fingertips. It was the kind of warmth that healed all the scars, all the wounds from the last few months - even the betrayal of his unfaithfulness. It was the kind of warmth that you would like to sleep, eat and laugh and talk and simply be with. It was the kind of blissful warmth that you could imagine experiencing for the rest of your life.

It was the kind of warmth only one person in the whole world would be able to provide.

“Are you going to lie to yourself for the rest of your life? Or worse, are you going to live a life of constant, everyday regret?”

Like a distant whisper from another being altogether, Yoongi’s questions trickled into your head, filled it, and cracked the mental barriers you had erected yourself and for yourself.

Yoongi leaned back into his seat, his fingers remaining intertwined over his stomach. “Because that’s the kind of future I see for you. Rich, married and perhaps satisfied with your life one distant day - but something like this…” He shook his head. “All you need to do is acknowledge your feelings yourself. Stop denying them, stop lying to yourself and stop running. Stop being such a proud, damn coward, (Y/N).”

And with that, the barriers crumbled like towers and walls of dust, taken away by a mild, passing breeze. For the first time in your whole life, you allowed your heart to take the lead. Recklessly, one might add, but recklessness was all you could resort to when the future of your life, your happiness and the cause of all that happiness was at stake. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t consider, you couldn’t discuss, you couldn’t reason yourself back to a place of acceptance.

No, you refused to be scared of the truth any longer. You refused to cower before the prospect of allowing someone to love you - and for you to love that someone. You refused to give up your last chance at seizing such a once-in-a-lifetime - for that is what this was, that is what Jungkook really posed to you - opportunity.

Now that you knew, truly knew, you couldn’t let it merely slip past.

Your heart wanted nothing more than a certain twenty-year-old guy, once your family friend, once your fiancé, once your amnesic idol friend and now, the latest: your brother-in-law. You wanted him with every cell, every fiber of your being.

A life without loving Jeon Jungkook would be like living in a world without color and sounds. A shadow of reality, a shell void of both creature and pearl, a poor simulation of something you had experienced and enjoyed for twenty years. Sure, you would perhaps come to see flashes of color, or hear the faintest of sounds at times, but it would still be a drop of water in an ocean endless.

A life without loving Jeon Jungkook would be hollow. As much as you had come to like Jung-Hyun, his gentlemanly ways, polite and silent nature and his gentle confidence, he was a mere firework in a sky full of stars. A sky full of stars, planets, the sun and the moon. It was cruel, but for you, in your heart, he couldn’t even begin to compare to the wonders of the sky.

The sarcastic, jeering, arrogant, stubborn, proud, beautiful, funny, hard-working, caring, strong, supporting and lovable wonder that was Jeon Jungkook. You would need a dictionary, or even more so, make up words on your own to fully describe the world-famous idol, the singer and dancer whose talents and sheer willpower were of such a high caliber, nobody could deny them.

And even then, you would merely have stirred the surface of the real human lying underneath.

As you pulled off the engagement ring Jung-Hyun had bought you, you saw Yoongi’s eyes visibly widen. He had watched silently you while all your thoughts rushed by, and it wasn’t until now that you saw how uncertain he really appeared while talking to you. Uncertain, surely, because he himself wasn’t sure if he was right.

But he was. He was and had been for months.

You loved the bastard known as Jeon Jungkook. You loved him more than made sense.

“Where is he?” you asked hastily. You needed to act before you could talk - or rather, reason yourself - out of canceling a marriage. “Where’s Jungkook?”

“I don’t know,” said Yoongi, his eyebrows rising high across his forehead. “But Taehyung might know. I could call him and ask.”

“Please,” you said.

Yoongi pursed his lips, his eyes still revealing the confusion he felt, as he pressed his phone to his ear. “(Y/N),” he said while waiting for Taehyung to pick up. “About the wedding…”

“Forget about the wedding,” you said and rose. Ignoring the disbelieving look he sent your way, you lowered the engagement ring into your purse and then started toward the nearest bathroom. “I’ll be right back,” you called over your shoulder.

Your heart was accelerating in line with your steps, and by the time you had locked yourself into the single, unisex bathroom, you felt tendrils of anticipation and dread curl in your stomach. You began wiping off the makeup frantically from your face and neck, for even though Yoongi had told you it wasn’t too much, it simply felt too much. Your face was practically as clean as it would have been after a shower when you were satisfied and went back out.

The table was empty, and you found Yoongi standing by the exit downstairs. “Come on,” he told you when you gave him an inquisitive glance. “Taehyung said Jungkook went to a karaokebar. If it’s the one I think it is, it should be in the nearby area.”

With a nod, you followed Yoongi out of Serenity. About ten minutes later, the two of you reached the steps leading up to a small, rundown karaoke bar without a real name. It felt as if though your stomach had curled itself up into a tight ball as you ascended the few concrete steps. But when you realized Yoongi wasn’t moving away from the pavement, you halted and turned around, a frown on your face.

He stopped you from talking by holding up a hand. “I don’t want to intrude,” he explained. “I’ve gotten involved with you two enough already.”

You smiled and hurried down the stairs. “Thank you,” you told him as you came to a stop right in front of him. “Thank you for talking sense into me. Even though he might not forgive me--”

“He will,” interrupted Yoongi firmly, his slim, dark eyes filled with assurance. “But only if you tell him what the people around you two already know.”

“Thank you,” you repeated. You almost wanted to hug him, but decided against it in the end. “And I will.”

Yoongi smiled. It was the smile that seemed to make all the invisible weight of the world on his shoulders disappear. “Good. Now, get in there.”

You could barely breathe when you spoke to the man and owner of the karaoke bar at the front desk. He told you a guy about your age and with his face covered was somewhere in the back of the building, but forced you to rent a room of your own before allowing you to head deeper into the karaoke bar. The money didn’t matter, however. You would have gladly paid ten--no, a hundred times more if the owner demanded it.

A glance across your shoulder revealed Yoongi still waiting outside on the street, watching you through the double glass doors. He stood with his hands inside his pockets, and nodded after you had waved a goodbye. He remained even as you headed deeper into the establishment, and it was you who first disappeared out of range.

No matter how the confrontation between you and Jungkook would turn out, you would be eternally in Min Yoongi’s debt. For he woke you up. Even if Se-Eun had tried, she wouldn’t have been as brutally honest or insisted on the subject as he had. She would have resigned, knowing your way of mind now after nine years of friendship.

But Yoongi, who didn’t know anything about you, had persevered and persisted. You owed him, and you would always be grateful toward him even if Jungkook would refuse to forgive you.

There were faint music coming from down the straight hallway the owner had instructed you to take. Since it was almost in the middle of the day, not even students would be there. Therefore, when you stopped outside the only door that seemed to hold an occupant, you were confident about the fact of who was currently inside.

You weren’t as confident going inside, however.

While you weighed yourself from foot to foot, nervously trying to build up enough courage to knock on the door, the song ended. You heard the cheering of a “100” point or “Perfect!” score, which the karaoke machine announcer said with an overly sweet tone, and then a loud chain of curses, which didn’t come from any machine announcer you had ever known.

No, you recognized it for who it was - Jeon Jungkook.

He continued to mutter curses, but then the song resumed. This close, you knew that it was familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. You inhaled deeply before pressing your ear against the smooth surface of the door, and concentrated on discerning the words.

“I feel such regret right now…”

A shiver, starting from the crown of your head, traveled to the very tips of your toes as you recognized the lyrics. It was the same song Jungkook had sang that Friday night you had taken him up on the stupidest of bets.

A bet of ignorance and a kiss.

When the shock faded enough for you to think, you frowned. If now Jungkook was, for some reason or another, trying to recreate that bet by singing that same song right then, he wouldn’t have been able to lose the bet. Not with a perfect score. Yet, why was he getting so irritated and why was he replaying the song?

Cold fingers trailed down your back when you realized it. Jungkook wasn’t trying to win the old bet between you and him by recreating it - he was trying to get the exact same score as he had that day.

You didn’t even dare guess as to why.

Jungkook’s muffled curses were what brought you back into the situation at hand. You withdrew from the door and lifted your hand, forming a fist in the air. When you began moving it toward the painted wood, however, you found yourself freezing. Mid-swing, you simply stared from the door to your hand, and even though you willed it forward, propelled it with the weight of your body, the arm wouldn’t obey. It was as if though you had gotten stuck on an invisible wall.

You were terrified. Utterly and undeniably. Again, you felt the urge to just bolt out of the karaoke bar, and it took all your courage, bravery you scrounged together from all corners and nooks of your heart, not to. Besides, you had a feeling Yoongi was still outside, making sure you were actually doing what you had come to do. So much for not getting any more involved.

“You can do this,” you mumbled to yourself, fleetingly glad that you were the only two patrons there. Who knows what you would have done if there was an audience around. “Just knock on the stupid door and tell him how you really feel.”

But how were you supposed to formulate yourself? Thanks to Yoongi, you had acknowledged to yourself that you loved Jungkook more than you would ever admit out loud, more than you cared about the repercussions of your current decision. You loved him enough to not care about circumstances any longer.

You had been a fool, an ignorant, dismissive and dogged fool. You saw that now. Lying to Jungkook after his amnesia had been the biggest mistake of your life - one that you intended to rectify now that you had the chance.

You needed to tell Jungkook just that.

While musing, you hadn’t even been aware that the music had since long ceased. And so, when the door abruptly opened inwardly before you and a tall, brown-haired guy wearing a white t-shirt, jeans, boots and a mouth mask stepped out, you stopped breathing altogether. Even if you would have wanted to run away like you had the last time the two of you had been in the same space, you couldn’t.

All you could do was stare.

The familiar, large brown eyes of Jeon Jungkook rounded when they spotted you, and scoured you up and down several times before they settled onto yours. You jolted inwardly, your heart now also deciding to stop beating, as if not to disturb the suddenly deathly silence that had befallen the hallway in a shabby karaoke bar without name.

For an unknown amount of time, the two of you simply stood there, on each side of the doorway, doing nothing but looking at the other. It had been almost two months since you last had seen each other, yet it felt as if though it was just last yesterday you had seen Jungkook on stage for the first time. It felt as if though it was just last week that you two had been engaged. It felt as if though it was just last month that he had found you in the middle of the forest and carried you on his back to civilization, children both of you. It felt as if though it was just last year you had discovered the bruises his father secretly inflicted on both him and his mother.

Yet, it felt as if though an eternity had passed since you had confessed to yourself what exactly it was you felt for Jeon Jungkook.

“(Y/N)?”

Your name escaped his chapped lips in a whisper, a soft flutter of wings. He sounded so hesitant, so skeptical, so confused, you weren’t sure what really to say in return. Thus, you settled for a nod, and then lowered your gaze to the dirty floor.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” you mumbled.

“Why?”

His tone was impossible to read. Partly because he was speaking so quietly you only barely heard him over your own heartbeats, which had resumed beating again, fortunately. And then partly because you were so frightened and anxious to reply, you felt nauseous.

“Because…” You cleared your throat, still refusing to look up at him. Tears were burning in the back of your eyes, like strong alcohol down your throat. “Because,” you tried again, though your voice cracked.

“Did something happen to your parents? Or my brother?”

You couldn’t believe how calm and put-together he sounded. Though it was tempting to glance up at him, to at least be able to read his features, you knew you wouldn’t be able to refrain from crying if you met his gaze.

“No,” you told him, eyes glued to your shoes. “I came for you. To tell you…”

Jungkook was silent. You sensed the seconds tick by, but he didn’t push you.

Your hands balled into fists at your sides. “I came to tell you, Jungkook… that I… I…”

“You’re not wearing your ring.”

“I’m not,” you reaffirmed slowly, your voice trembling in a sickening mixture of nervousness and apprehension. You took a deep breath before continuing. “And Jungkook, the reason for that is--”

You never managed to finish your sentence. All of a sudden, you felt yourself being pulled into a tight embrace. It happened too quickly for you to react. You had barely blinked before you found yourself wrapped around a pair of strong arms. The smell of soap, warmth and uniquely Jungkook filled your nostrils for the first time since May 30th, and enveloped you in a familiar sense of safety. You inhaled deeply, and carefully placed your hands onto Jungkook’s broad back while you did your best to fight against the waves of tears threatening to assault the shores of your yet dry cheeks.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. “Ten kilos,” you muttered into the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Of course. You just had to literally one-up me, didn’t you?”

Speechless. No words seemed to be able to form in your mouth. For you had been ready for a complete denial ever since Yoongi first had managed to make a crack in your defenses. You had been ready to not be forgiven. You had been ready to be cussed out and yelled at. You had been ready to have to grovel and beg and plead. You had been ready for the agony of fighting, arguing and trying to convince him you truly were apologetic.

You hadn’t been ready for the opposite of all that.

Hot saltwater trickled down your eyes. You could taste a few tears in the corners of your lips, and you sniffled as discreetly as you could, praying - in vain - that he wouldn’t sense, wouldn’t notice.

“Don’t cry,” said Jungkook gently, his grip of you tightening.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook.” Your fingers clutched his tee with painfully obvious desperation. “I’m so sorry for lying to you. I shouldn’t have, I know I shouldn’t have. I just… I thought it would be the best for both of us. I was stupid, so freaking stupid, I mean, I call you that all the time but--”

“I get it, (Y/N),” he murmured softly. “I really do, so please - stop crying. I can’t bear seeing you this sad.”

“You should be angry with me,” you insisted, the tears thickening your tone. “And you definitely were when you first found out. Why won’t you scream at me now? Why--” You had to clear your throat. “Why are you hugging me instead?”

“Of course I was angry.” His breath stirred your hair since you still refused to look up. “You made me think I was in love with someone I have never loved. Don’t you get how difficult it was for me to try and wrap my head around all that while I was amnesic, even less when I got my memories back? I felt betrayed by the person I came to appreciate more than anyone else in this entire word."

Despite his words, Jungkook sounded composed, unflappable even. You reacted at something else, however.

“What do you mean?” you wondered numbly. “You loved Yi-Jae, didn’t you?”

The answer was precise, curt, revealing not even a shred of dishonesty. “No.”

“But why--” you started.

“Because I was afraid.” Jungkook released you and brushed the back of his fingers against your cheek carefully. “I was afraid, proud and a complete fucking dumbass. And I’ve told you why. I felt like my family were leeching off of yours, and I hated being bound by some ridiculous promise your grandfather made my dad. I thought I could run away from my burden by cheating on you - I thought for sure the marriage would be off then.”

“But what about this?” you asked with a slight frown, your tears starting to dry up in their wells. You pointed from him to yourself. “What about us? If you wanted to get away from me--”

“I never said that, did I?”

For the first time since the start of that conversation, you lifted your gaze. When your eyes locked with Jungkook’s, you saw your own vulnerability, your uncertainty, your yearning and longing reflected in his.

“Then what?” you whispered, both happy and frightened at the discovery.

Jungkook’s hands dropped to curl around yours. He held your fingers loosely, yet your heart rate surged into gallop when he leaned closer to you.

“With time,” he replied quietly, “I wanted to do all that on my own.”

You inhaled sharply. Amusement briefly flickered in Jungkook’s familiar brown eyes before they grew solemn again. “You should already know by now, since I told you, that you’ve always been the light of my life. Though I used to despise having to be with you all the time, I eventually came to accept it and even started looking forward to seeing you.” He chuckled lightly. “No one else got as irritated as you when I disagreed with the person in question.”

“Bastard,” you managed, even though you smiled, too.

“For me to let you go would have been an impossibility,” he went on. “I don’t know when exactly I started feeling strongly for you, but I remember clearly realizing it the exact moment we became engaged.” Jungkook paused and his eyes darted elsewhere. “I’ve never been as terrified in my whole life.”

“Why?” you asked for probably the fifteenth time that day.

Jungkook brought you close to his chest again. You allowed him, and relaxed against the shape of his torso, your hands finding their way back across his back. You could get used to this.

“I didn’t know what you felt about me.”

“I didn’t like you,” you admitted, feeling that he had been too open and honest for you to be shy with your answers. “You were a pain in the backside, and you were cold and brusque and sardonic. You were also really arrogant and had this way about you as if nothing else but you mattered.”

“‘Pain in the backside’ was explanation enough,” he said dryly.

You shrugged the best you could as you tried to hide a grin. “I just thought I should define what exactly that meant.”

He sighed, though you could sense a smile bleed into his retort. “Why did I have to fall in love with a heartless brute like you?”

Warmth blossomed across your face, chest and neck. In fact, every part of your body felt as if though they had been set ablaze. Your heart was beating in rhythm with Jungkook's, which you felt accelerate when you squeezed him harder against you.

“I’d punch you if I could, you know,” you told him as a fresh batch of tears crested your eyes. “For making me cry.”