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maplecornia · 3 years

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Chapter 3

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 3.06K

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: everytime I upload a chapter my tags increase LMAO i hope you guys are enjoying the story so far ^^ BTW when they're speaking and their words are bolded that means they're speaking in English just a heads up ;)

tags: @kookaine | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne

What is he doing here?

And whose clothes do those belong to?

You mouth his name, and in his eyes, you can see the surprise turn to shame.

The sick feeling in your stomach grows bigger.

You pray that you're wrong. That for the first time in your life, your intuition isn't correct. That what you think happened was merely a misunderstanding. That he didn't do what you think he did.

You want to reassure yourself that you didn't give up your heart in vain.

That he still loves you.

But everything points to the signs.

The fact that he only wears boxers, his smooth muscled skin shining in the soft moonlight.

The pile of mixed clothes on the floor.

The look in his eyes and the ruffled mess of his hair.

Everything tells you what you already know.

"What's going on?" you ask, your voice shaking. He doesn't meet your eyes.

The sick feeling grows deeper in your chest.

"What's going on?" you repeat, your voice stronger and more severe.

Even if your heart can't stand strong, at least you can.

He opens his mouth to reply, but instead, you hear a woman's voice from the bedroom.

Your bedroom.

"Babe, who is that?" you can't seem to look away from the door that it materialized from, as he looks between it and you, unsure of what to do. As though he were the one trapped. As though he were the one who was in pain. As though he were the victim here.

Instead of the murderer.

As she comes into view in the doorway, rubbing her eyes and running her hands through her hair, you can't move. You're frozen, and the world completely disappears, a roar of static noise rising in your ears.

No.

NO.

This can't be happening. Not to you. You were so careful. You were so sure. So sure that he felt the same. So sure that he was yours and yours alone. So sure that nothing would be able to break what you shared. That you had finally found the one.

However, as she looks at you, her green eyes spark with realization. Then as they quickly turn to shame, she avoids your gaze as well.

You know.

This is happening.

It's real.

And there's no turning back from it.

You can't feel yourself as you start to cry.

In the shower, the hot water clings to your skin, mixing with the tears. You lean against the tiled wall, squeezing your eyes shut, you cling to yourself. Nails digging into your flesh, you bite your lip, shaking violently.

Mixed images of his face flash through your mind unwillingly.

Hiding alone, the steam surrounding you in a thick veil of deception, you give in to the pain.

You allow the tears to come.

You allow his face to stare into yours once more. You paint the same hazelnut gaze of his eyes. You try to recall the safety you once felt when he held you in his arms. You pull pieces of the same warmth that rose in your cold body flushing your face when he smiled at you, out of the depths of your mind. You look for the tenderness reflecting in his eyes when he whispered that he loved you. You sigh as you remember the way his curly hair had felt on your skin as you ran your hands through it. You picture his perfectly sculpted face, high cheekbones, and long eyelashes. The strong jaw and full lips. The curve of his throat and the touch of his body.

The mirage holds you in its embrace, makes you forget everything, all the pain, all the hurt, the betrayal that tore your soul apart for his pleasure.

However, when it leans in to kiss you, your eyes fly open to reality, and you find yourself hugging your body, the shower still running.

Shaking your head, you proceed to clean yourself, hoping that perhaps the water could wash away the pain.

Some things weren't enough. Some things are not good to dwell over. Some things are better left locked away.

In the end, it wasn't real.

None of it was real.

Done with the shower, you turn the water off, strands of hair falling in your face, and droplets of water dripping off of your body.

Was any part you enough to keep him?

Was this body?

Was it enough to have him wait for you?

Looking down at yourself, you press your fingers against your stomach, pulling at the flesh and skin as though it would change anything.

Were you enough?

Shaking the thought out of your mind, you reach for your towel as you open the shower curtain and step out into the steamy bathroom. Flipping on the fan switch, you dry yourself off, avoiding the reflection in the mirror. You lotion your body down, before pulling on your bra and underwear. Ignoring the drips from your hair, you tug on a loose T-shirt and shorts, and shake out your head, water falling everywhere as though you were a wet dog.

Sighing, you turn to the mirror, where fog from the shower is fading, water droplets trailing down like rain and making pathways. You follow them with your eyes for a moment before, in a sudden urge, you swipe your hand across the screen, destroying their peaceful journey. What's left of your reflection.

Staring into your eyes, you can see just how tired you look. Just how worn down you are. Touching just below your eye, the dark circles under your eyes from restless nights of tears and loss of sleep stand out like a stain on your skin.

What has he done to you?

This isn't you, this isn't who you are.

What has he turned you into?

Sighing, you turn away from the mirror and pull on your robe.

Drying your hair off with your towel, you pull open the door and walk outside, your wet feet slapping on the crisp wood floor as you make your way into the living room.

You look around for any sign of Jae or Miji, but they are nowhere to be seen. Glancing over at the kitchen island, you spot a small piece of paper. Taking it into your fingers, you read the neat block letters of Jaejin's handwriting. His Korean alphabet is so structured, so neat and so straight as though it were the writing of a computer. It reads:

“Hey, I’m sorry we left, but Mijeong prepared a surprise birthday dinner for me tonight, we’ll be back later so help yourself to make dinner or whatever. Remember this is your home now too, I love you!!”

You smile at the thoughtful letter and pocket it in your robe.

You had prepared a gift for Jae today yourself, but you'd reckon you'd just give it to him later.

Turning to the room you take a deep breath before beginning to explore.

The living room is very spacious, which you prefer. The TV is elevated on the left wall from the kitchen, the couch positioned against the right wall across from the screen. In the middle of the room, there is a cute small glass coffee table with forgotten magazines and books laying on top of it. Underneath the TV there are many different bookshelves with movies, books, and magazines shelved on them. All around the apartment, there are potted plants, cute decorations, and some photographs.

Stepping onto the carpet, you dig your feet into it as though it were the warm sand on the beach.

"I would have been fine sleeping on this floor, you know. This is like heaven." You murmur to yourself, closing your eyes in content. You wait there for a moment before the soft plinks of rain begin outside, knocking you out of your stupor.

Opening your eyes, you turn to the balcony's clear screen door and press your hand against it. Gazing outside, you smile at the sight of rain against the lights of the city. Opening the door a crack, you close your eyes, taking a deep breath.

After a moment, you step back inside and shut the screen door, turning to the kitchen. You pull out a pot and fill it with water before setting it on the ceramic stove and heating it. As you wait for it to boil, you pull out your phone and turn the notifications off from vibration. As soon as you do, you click on your Instagram and into the group chat you share with your friends.

Looking through, you can't help but feel a bit conflicted.

Biting your lip, your finger hovers over the message box before you quickly pull away and place your phone on the counter. Letting out a shaky breath, you swallow the lump rising dangerously in your throat before looking away.

You're sensitive today.

You knew it was going to be like this.

When you moved in the middle of high school back home, it was the same. Their lives carried on without you. They still had fun, they still had other things to do, they still had a life outside of you. Outside of you being there.

Things were different.

They were still your friends, they'll always be your friends, but they weren't the same.

Will they ever be the same?

When you hear the crackling of the boiling water, your head snaps up and you pocket the phone once more. You pull the pot off the stove and grab a mug out of one of the many cabinets in Jae's kitchen. As you set it beside the cooling water on the counter, you search his pantry for a cocoa mix. Normally you would have tea, but right after the sight of the rain, you're in the mood for something to warm you from the inside out.

Something to remind you of home.

On cold, rainy days after you and your friends would practice at the dance studio, or finish having a meal together or anything simple like that; you would hurry home and with your group, you would make them cocoa. You would start a fire and would sit with each other spending the time together, happy and complete.

The nostalgia and sadness growing too much, you are relieved when you find the hot cocoa packets. You let out a little shout of happiness and accomplishment before walking out of the pantry and dumping the contents into the cup. Setting the packet aside, you take the pot of water and carefully pour it into the cup as well. While the powder and water slowly swirl together, you rummage for a spoon before mixing it. Once you're satisfied, you sip it carefully and...

...almost burn your tongue off.

Coughing violently, you set it down and focus on putting away everything you brought out, giving it time to cool off. Once everything is done and put away, you pick up your mug, holding it to your face as you softly blow on it. Even now the smell and the warmth of it is getting rid of the chill you feel whenever you're alone.

Settling yourself amongst the blankets and pillows on the couch, you take the TV remote off of the coffee table and turn on the TV. Netflix pops up and you search for a K- drama you were watching before you left. When you find it, you press play, leaving off captions so that you can practice your Korean a bit more.

As the intro starts, you hum along to it, setting up a sort of bed so you can watch comfortably. Once it's done, you lay down, your head sinking into a pillow comfortably, and a soft gray blanket pulled over your body. You're in a position so that you can still lounge but won't spill your cocoa.

As the show begins, you mouth the words along with them. When you can't catch what they say, you're quick to rewind it and try it again until you understand. You laugh with the show, cry with it, finding yourself on an emotional roller coaster.

You've always been like this, too emotional, too easily attached, too naive. Always careful to keep yourself at a reasonable distance from anyone who could hurt you. From anyone who you couldn't handle if they left you. It takes a while for you to open yourself up to someone, and when you do, you're wholly and completely theirs.

It's a lose-lose situation.

A lose-lose way of life.

Before you know it, the cocoa is gone and the episode is almost over. Setting the mug on the coffee table, you settle back into the pillow. As you watch, your eyes grow heavy, and you drift further and further away. The last thing you see before you close them is their touching kiss before they flutter shut and you fall into a restless sleep.

Hours pass as you lie there on the couch, sleeping. The show continues to play until the question "are you still watching?" shows up on the screen as it often does when you've been watching for a while without much activity.

Once the show is off, the apartment goes silent and it seems almost empty. In the far background, there are the sounds of cars honking, the screech of tires on the pavement, even the sound of music from the billboards and clubs.

This is like home, these sounds are familiar. These are the reasons why you sleep so soundly, hugging the pillow as though it were your lifeline.

You do not wake when Mijeong and Jaejin enter the apartment. They are laughing, but as soon as they see you on the couch, fast asleep, they fall quiet, each one of them smiling softly.

They hold unimaginable compassion for you and deep love.

Mijeong immediately sets down her stuff, sliding out of her shoes and walking towards you. Tenderly, she brushes back your hair as though she were your mother taking care of you.

“She’s sound asleep.” She whispers, just as Jaejin joins her side.

“That’s not like her. She’s such a light sleeper, she would have woken up when we came home.” He replies worry reflected in his eyes. Mijeong’s smile, at his statement, fades away and she nods.

“She must be in so much pain that she wants to drown out the world around her,” Mijeong says sadly before standing up and clearing her throat.

“Let's take her to her room.” When Jaejin doesn't move, she gives him an expectant look and he jolts to attention. She hits him softly on his arm and he lets out a slight joking yelp.

"I was going to do it, I just wasn't ready yet." He whines, and she chuckles before leading the way to your room as Jaejin picks you up with strong, sure arms. Cradled in his arms as though you were a baby, he looks down at you with a tender look. He hates that he can't help you.

No one can.

He smiles how sound asleep you are now, cradled in his arms, your head resting against the crook of his neck. Mijeong, watching the encounter, smiles as well. He notices her look and his attention changes immediately from you to her in a second.

“What is it?” he asks, and she shakes her head, opening the door to your newly acclaimed bedroom.

“Nothing.” She says but a sly smile is playing at her lips, as though she’s concealing a secret. Which she is. A secret that, at that moment, she thought he would make a great father. A secret that at that moment, she wanted things with him that were far off in the future, but very real to her now.

As they walk into your room, Mijeong pulls back the covers, and Jaejin sets you down softly on the bed. Once you are out of his arms, and Mijeong pulls the covers up over your body, you settle instinctively into the soft mattress, and immediately curl up into a ball, holding tightly to one of the many pillows on your bed. They smile as they watch over you, and Jaejin presses a soft kiss on your forehead. Mijeong does the same, brushing back strands of hair on your forehead. Turning around, they share a tender look before walking out of the room and cracking the door shut behind them.

“Are you sure that she’ll be okay?” Mijeong asks as soon as the door is shut. Jaejin looks at her a bit surprised.

“Of course. Why, are you having second thoughts?” he asks before heading into the living room, Mijeong not far behind.

"No. I'm not, I just....I wish we could tell her before we do anything. She's going to wake up and we'll be gone." Mijeong explains, following him and settling on the counter. Jaejin pauses from setting the living room in order and turns to her. He takes her hand in his own and kisses her softly on the forehead before pressing his forehead to hers tenderly.

"I love you, and I wish we could have told her before we leave tomorrow, but she will be okay. She'll have the apartment, and my job at Big Hit to take over. Everything will be okay." He reassures her. Mijeong hesitates before nodding her head in agreement. Jaejin smiles, before pulling away and turning off the TV. "Besides, I'll leave her a note just like we did tonight before we take off in the morning. This is just too much of an amazing opportunity for you and for me to waste."

"I know." Mijeong answers, rocking on the counter as she swings her legs back and forth. "Not every model gets a chance to appear at Fashion Week, but Jae....she'll be all alone."

Done with ordering the room, he chuckles as he begins to make his way back to her.

"She is a grown-up you know. It’s only a few months, she can take care of herself." He says, pulling her off the counter and spinning around in the air before setting her down as she giggles and leans on him, a little dizzy.

"Don't worry," he reassures her once more before heading into their room, his voice fading as he closes the door behind him.

"Yen will be okay. She always is."

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: thanks to everyone who read! so why do you think miss Yen moved to Korea?

I'm going to be updating my mutuals list (because I never had it to begin with ;-;) on my navigation so if you want to be added, pls ask me ^^ thankssss

chapter 4 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

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