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anonnie-in-wonderland · 10 months

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Call Me Crazy...

Rating: T

Word Count:11.8k

Warning(s): anxiety/anxious thoughts, near panic attacks, injury, but also beware the fluff for it is potent

Summary: When Y/N gets her hands on the newest Samsung phone, she thinks at most she’ll get a little clout with her friends and fewer dropped calls. A direct portal to BTS? Not so much.

Tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | poly| FM!POC!reader

Ch.3: Don’t Hold Your Breath for a Break

A/N: Hiiii, sorry I’ve been away for so long. 🥺 Life has been pretty stressful. But, I’m back now, new chapter, whoo! I have had this on my mind for a while now, and finally got the chance to incorporate it into this chapter~ I really do hope you enjoy the arrival of the next BTS member to show up, whose dynamics with Y/N are already among my favorites. Also, always feel free to chat with me about this fic if you’d like, I don’t bite and thrive on the engagement! 🤗 I wanna know if anyone wants to guess what is going on or has figured it out yet. This chapter is especially dedicated to the blog who had a super easy tutorial on how to keep your formatting from google docs to tumblr!! Saved me a lot of time. Hehe *PLEASE do not ask about the taglist in this story’s comments*

In the days that followed, Y/N completely fell down a rabbit hole. It felt prudent to look more into BTS, or more specifically, Park Jimin. From a strictly legal perspective and nothing more.

After all, she was sure his attorneys would be sending a court summons any day now just as soon as they managed to find out her identity and track her down. It was something she lived in fear of.

Binna was none-the-wiser that the reason she suddenly seemed so attentive about the band’s recent lives was because she wanted to know if they’d mentioned anything. Any clues that would tell Y/N when her days as a free person were coming to an end.

Honestly, she hadn’t found much. Nothing that would be helpful in allowing her to participate in her own legal defense. Speaking of that, could she even afford an attorney that would be able to stand up against Park Jimin’s? She was sure a global superstar would have the best in the country.

Y/N listlessly scrolled through yet more photos of Jimin—looking for hidden meanings in the recent videos the group had posted was starting to make her feel like she was overreacting at best and paranoid at worst.

There were pictures of him with a variety of hair colors and outfits, taken over time, and he was flawless in all of them. Even ones she came across where he wasn’t glammed out in full makeup made it obvious he was just one of the lucky ones, naturally born attractive.

“How many wardrobe malfunctions can one person have throughout their career?” Y/N found herself muttering, spying yet another photo where Jimin’s fancy jacket was sliding down his arm. “Is he allergic to keeping his shirt on his shoulders?”

Though, given how many fan compilations existed that compiled every single moment where Jimin’s shirt or jacket hadn’t quite managed to stay all the way on, it didn’t seem like there were many complaints. Army was swooning and swooning hard if anything.

But really, being sued within an inch of her life wasn’t even the worst part about it all. If someone saw the “notes” section of her phone, they’d have her committed first, and ask questions later. She’d have her committed, under normal circumstances.

Because what she had experienced not once, but twice? It went against everything she stood for. Logical, grounded, a firm believer in science and fact. Facts didn’t support phenomena like getting sucked through a mirror and ending up in an idol’s dance studio.

Facts didn’t support seeing the face of another idol—because she now knew the reason the man in the mirror looked vaguely familiar was because he was another BTS member, Seokjin—instead of her own reflection when she went to brush her teeth. It just…didn’t make sense.

Science couldn’t support it. It was nuts. Yet it happened to her. And that was the only reason she believed it. Too bad no one else would. Or worse, if and when Jimin announced he’d be pressing charges for assault, and she had confessed beforehand to someone…it would probably be taken as evidence the attack was premeditated.

Sure, they’d have to prove how she got in. But…but still! She couldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t. Which meant her phone was her only safe secret-keeper. They were co-conspirators in it all.

Speaking of the damned cursed thing… trying to outright return it hadn’t worked, even though she had the receipt and everything! She still remembered the bizarre events that day.

Y/N was almost out of breath by the time she entered the phone store, embarrassingly worked up in front of the few strangers milling around inside. She got a few curious, side-long glances, and then they went back to perusing the inventory.

“Welcome!” Called an employee already speaking to other customers. “Someone will assist you shortly.”

Y/N gave a short, affirmative nod, trying not to come off anxious as she glanced around. Everything looked…the same as the night she had bought the phone. Shiny new models on display, the monitor above their heads playing a loop of advertisements for different Samsung products, and everything neatly put away and organized. Absently, she began to think over the store’s layout, and the fact that it could have a strong subconscious effect on the consumer. Organization of inventory could actually play a role in whether or not someone wanted to buy something.

But, putting that aside, the store didn’t look like the kind of place that would sell someone a phone that would ruin their life. Looks could be deceiving, though. Who knew what was actually afoot?

“Oh, can I help you, miss?” A middle-aged woman wearing the store’s polo top came over with a tag that said her name was Hayoung asked in an attentive tone.

Y/N was quick to nod. “I’m here to make a return, actually. I bought a phone from your store not long ago.”

“Was the item not to your liking?” Hayoung asked, guiding her over to an available station.

The university student glanced down at the phone in question, which she’d placed back in the original purchase box. “You could…say that.” She mumbled. “I’ve thought about it, and I really don’t need anything even half this fancy.” Telling the woman she thought the phone might have it in for her was out of the question. “So I’d like to exchange it for something simpler.”

Hayoung dutifully accepted the box, scanning the barcode and then lifting up the lid. Y/N had anticipated a smooth return in which she’d flash her receipt, maybe some ID, and have the exchange completed in no time. But when Hayoung’s brow furrowed, she knew she wouldn’t like whatever the saleswoman was going to say.

“Is…is something wrong?”

“Well,” she paused, “Are you sure you purchased your phone here? From this store? I know we’ve had models similar to this in stock before, but this one’s just not ringing up.”

“Really?” Y/N shook her head, rummaging around in her purse. “I don’t see how that could be. I have the receipt if that helps…”

She then proceeded to go through her small purse, searching the exact spot she knew she had folded and placed the receipt. “Um, hold on a minute please,” Hayoung waited expectantly as Y/N kept looking, growing increasingly more frustrated as she turned the contents of her purse inside out hunting for the receipt.

No, no way was she ever that careless. She had made sure she put it into her purse before leaving the apartment, and she didn’t exactly care that much in it to begin with! It was all zipped up tight, so how could it have fallen out?!

It took several more long, awkward moments of searching futilely in vein for her to realize it was true. The receipt was no where to be found. Trying to fight down the flush of defeat crossing her cheeks, Y/N cleared her throat, speaking diplomatically, “I’m sorry, I don’t seem to have my receipt on hand after all. I guess I’ll just…try to search it out and return when I do.”

“Oh, there’s no need. Our system can search for and find the purchase if you happen to have the card on hand.”

Y/N wanted to slump over in defeat, “Actually my friend bought it…”

“Oh,” Hayoung tilted her head, “Do you happen to know the account number used?”

Y/N mentally wondered if Binna was free. She shouldn’t be in class right now, right? So it would be okay to quickly give her a call and get this sorted out. She had to leave the store without this phone. That was a must!

“H-Hold on please!” It was a little embarrassing, snatching the phone she had been trying to return from its box and powering it on. In anticipation of making the return, Y/N had thought to wipe it and remove the SIM card chip, but then recalled hearing it was best to do that at the store when the transaction was complete, in case there was something forgotten on the phone that still needed to be retrieved.

Hastily scrolling down the admittedly short contacts’ list, Y/N located Binna’s number and pressed the button to dial. The phone rang three times, and she anxiously tapped her foot as she waited to see if her friend would pick up. ‘Please, Bin. Come on. Please.’

Of course, as it always was when she needed something to work out, it didn’t quite go smoothly. Binna hadn’t picked up, and she had ended up ending the call right before it switched to voice mail. Typing out a text message asking for the information she needed, Y/N had glared spitefully down at the phone.

“Do you recall the name of the clerk who sold you the phone?” Hayoung asked gently.

Y/N thought it over, the sales associate’s face floating to mind. “Yes, his name was Suk-kyu.”

“Hmm, that name doesn’t sound familiar.” Hayoung shook her head. “I’ve been employed here three years and never heard anyone go by that name,”

It was unlike her, but Y/N felt she was entitled to a bit of out of character behavior when her jaw actually dropped. “You’re kidding…”

But, Hayoung assured her, she was not. She didn’t think they had ever carried the exclusive Army Edition of the phone. She didn’t know who Suk-kyu was, and Y/N couldn’t find her receipt, the only bit of evidence that might have been able to successfully lift the burden of the phone from her person. She had left the store, apologizing for wasting the patient woman’s time, and feeling like she was at least partially going crazy.

Needless to say, Y/N had been…anxious about the phone since then. A bit scared, even. A fear she had no choice but to shoulder in silence for the time being. There wasn’t much she could do but continue searching high and low for the receipt and hope it turned up soon.

In the meantime, she didn’t let on that anything was wrong, using the phone like before, though limiting that to when it was really necessary. No more playing around with it or downloading apps. Nope, she didn’t want to risk getting too attached to the thing.

The only thing she did besides make calls was research. Things she never would have thought about looking up before. Like, unexplained phenomena with electronics, most of which led to completely wild conspiracy theories or dead ends.

Y/N had been so engrossed in breaking her brain over what to do, she jumped when the apartment door swung open, turning around on the coach to see Binna march in, a few grocery bags in her hands. Keys in her mouth, she gently kicked the door closed, humming to herself until she happened to look up and spot Y/N.

“Oh!” Binna hustled into the small kitchen to set her bags down, then her keys. “Y/N, didn’t expect to see you here right now. You’ve got class today, right?”

“It was canceled…” she sighed, sliding down the couch cushions and placing her phone on the coffee table. “The professor’s out sick with the flu.”

Binna winced in sympathy. “Yikes, poor guy…”

“Yeah,” Y/N took great care not to get sick, so she hadn’t so much as had a cold in years, but she still remembered times when she was a child in bed with chills, body aches and a fever. Once she had even had pneumonia, her mother forced to call out from work and nurse her back to health. “He just wanted us to go over the assignment we’ve been working on since the start of the semester. You know, take this as independent study time basically. But…”

“Buuut, knowing you,” Binna smiled, “You’ve already taken the initiative and gotten a head start a long time ago, so you’re ahead of everyone else.”

“Done, actually,” Y/N confirmed, not afraid to admit to her efficiency.

Her roommate made a noise of encouragement as she began to put the groceries away. It didn’t look like much. A loaf of bread, some bottles of sauce they’d been running low on, some eggs and a carton of milk.

“That’s great, since it actually kind of works out. Chin-Mae and Min Su invited me to check out this new steak house that just opened up. I heard reservations are booked out for weeks already, but thanks to Min Su’s connections, we can go this evening. What do you say?” Binna wiggled her eyebrows, trying to entice Y/N.

“Alright, I’m in,” she agreed.

“Because I’m sure they won’t mind adding just one more to our party, especially if that person is you…” Binna continued to ramble.

“Bin, did you hear me?” Y/N clucked, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I said I’m in.”

Eyes round as the eggs she had put away, Binna blinked, nodded, and finally broke out into an ear to ear grin. “Oh, wow, that’s new. I m-mean not that it isn’t great you wanna join us, but…”

“What?” Y/N felt a little defensiveness creeping up on her, and she probably didn’t do the best job completely hiding it from her tone. “You made the invite, and you said Min Su and Chin-Mae would be fine with it. Did you not…really want me to come along?”

They thought she would kill the mood, the nasty little whisper entered her head unbidden. They thought she was so stuffy and boring.

“What, Y/N, no!” Binna immediately denied, “I’m really glad you can make it,” she shot over to the couch, wrapping her arms around her friend’s neck from behind as she bent over for the hug. “It’s true you normally put up a little more resistance when we ask you to come somewhere. You stay so busy, so I was a little surprised is all. But I’m glad you’re agreeing.”

Y/N’s tense shoulders relaxed, and she mentally sighed to herself, feeling silly. Of course, of course her friends wanted her there. And this was Binna, who struggled to have a bad thought about anybody. Secretly resentful definitely wasn’t her style.

But with the stress she had been under, and the dread she’d done her best not to give into, Y/N could admit her nerves had been on edge. “Yeah, sorry about that…” she laughed weakly, reaching up and patting one of the arms looped around her neck. “I don’t know where that came from, but I’m happy to eat a little steak if Min Su’s recommending it.” The man had the best luck finding good places to eat, or stores that sold exactly what you were looking for but probably overlooked.

“Good girl,” Binna uncoiled her arms and leaned back against the couch itself. “That’s the spirit. And hey, I heard from some of the girls in the campus’ BTS fan club that one of the guys on campus might be related to one of the waiters who might have catered the food on the set of a music video for Taehyung!”

She said it in a breathy squeal, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile indulgently. She was almost sure she knew which one Taehyung was, but she still wouldn’t put money on it. It might just as soon be someone else. Maybe Namjoon?

She’d gotten more familiar with their names but as most of her time perusing videos and photos had been spent investigating Jimin, she wasn’t entirely sure on the others’ faces. Well, besides Jin and J-Hope.

“Nice,” she said, letting Binna get all her gushing out as she texted Chin-Mae just to make sure it really was okay if she tagged along. Stupid to be anxious about feeling unsure if everyone really wanted her to come, but better to be safe than sorry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was impressed the minute they walked through the door. Min Su stopped trying to sneak an arm around Chin-Mae’s waist and immediately went over to talk to the maître d. The two men spoke cordially, the head waiter confirmed their reservation, and then they were led to their table with a flourish.

Binna was practically bouncing on her heels, squealing under her breath. “Can you believe this place?” she whispered excitedly, “I feel like a movie star, coming here.”

The restaurant was definitely lavish, so she understood where her friend was coming from. The tables were polished stained oak, and lit by a candle to provide ambiance, and the floors were a gorgeous brown tile that Y/N suspected to be marble.

The restaurant was done in a mixture of black, gold with high beam wood ceilings and low atmospheric lighting. They walked past a bar, long and oval, with shimmering glasses the team of bartender would pull down as they did impressive tricks to wow the gathered guests.

“It’s one of the hottest spots in Gangnam right now,” Chin-Mae commented as they sat down. The table comfortably fit the four of them, and everyone got settled as a young woman hurried over, handing them menus and introducing herself.

“This is so cool,” Binna exclaimed, still wiggling in place. She shook Y/N’s arm. She was all done up with some icy blue eye shadow that matched her aqua dress, and a more subtle plum shade of lipstick.

Her hair was secured in a complicated twist by a pin she recognized from the last time they had gone shopping together. Y/N adjusted the shawl draped over her shoulders, pulling down her own strapless dress. Binna had helped her pick accessories, which were mostly shades of amber or gold, and apply some light makeup.

Y/N chuckled, nodding as she scanned the menu, trying her best to ignore the listed prices. She had come fully prepared to pay her own way, but Min Su insisted the meal was going to be on him. It must have been nice.

The perks of being from an affluent family, she supposed. The guy was already well on his way to being a successful lawyer, following the family tradition. He had moved all the way from his hometown in China to come and work on his master’s degree at one of the top universities in Korea, just for a change of pace. “Thanks again for letting us crash your date night, guys.” Binna beamed.

“Please,” Chin-Mae scoffed lightly, not looking up from his menu. “What was I supposed to do all evening? Talk to him?”

Min Su pouted, but it didn’t diminish the fond glow in his eyes as he leaned over his boyfriend’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear that gave Chin-Mae pause.

Their friend cut a sharp look at his partner, smacking his thigh and then proceeding to ignore the man who was happily leaning into him and commenting on the menu. Yeah, nothing new there. Min Su was totally gone on Chin-Mae, as always.

There was nothing about Chin-Mae’s bluntness or dismissive attitude in public that ever put him off. If anything, the mean behavior only served to make Min Su try harder. Though, she and Binna both knew Chin-Mae wouldn’t be with someone this long if he wasn’t just as serious about them.

He was just a straight shooter, raised in a family that wasn’t completely accepting of who he was, and unfortunately awkward and out of his depth about how to handle someone as affectionate and doting as the man he happened to fall in love with.

They were well suited in that regard. Min Su was patient and persistent enough to shower Chin-Mae in all the attention he needed to overcome the lingering doubts about being worthy of such deep love and devotion.

Y/N was perfectly fine, pursuing the path she was. Career goals first, everything else second. But sometimes, watching them, a little envy did ignite.

It must have been nice to find something like that, and she was truly happy for them. It didn’t seem likely she’d have time in the near future to go out and chase it for herself, of course. And she wasn’t really worried about it.

“So, what’ll it be for you guys?” Y/N cleared her throat, interrupting the warm and cozy silence they’d all been existing in.

“Ohh, I think I’m gonna have the smoked chicken and spinach salad, and a side of the fried mushrooms,” Binna announced, tongue poking out in concentration as her finger followed where the items she wanted were on the menu.

“You’re going so easy on him.” Chin-Mae remarked. “I’m getting the iron skillet trout,” he squinted, leaning further into the menu. Min Su only smiled, plucking the reading glasses from Chin Mae’s breast pocket that he had forgotten to put on and placing them on his face for him.

The absent-minded pat he got on the hand for it made the law student’s whole face light up. “And the chicken fried steak. That okay, babe?” He might not have looked it, exactly, but Chin-Mae had a healthy appetite. And if they were coming to such an exclusive restaurant for the first time, it wasn’t surprising he wouldn’t be keen to hold back.

Min Su was nodding encouragingly before Chin-Mae had even fully gotten the question out of his mouth. “And what about you, Y/N?”

She clammed up slightly, having been looking at the menu, mentally ruling out what seemed too expensive, or wasn’t quite her taste. “Uh, the pot roast sounds like a filling entree.”

“And?” Chin-Mae prodded, interlocking his hands together and leaning on them.

“And nothing,” Y/N shook her head. “It comes with two sides, that’s more than enough.”

“Boo,” Her friend hissed dramatically. “Fine. If neither one of you is going to take advantage of this, then I guess it’s up to me.”

Their waitress returned with a tray of drinks at precisely that moment, and as she set them down in front of the correct person, everyone began telling her their orders, which she jotted down without missing a beat.

Only Min Su had actually ordered any steak, but, given the price of a 24 oz there was just no way she felt comfortable doing that to the poor guy, even if he was a good sport about it and more than capable of handling a large bill.

As they sat, sipping their champagne and waiting on the food, something Y/N had been putting off thinking about started floating through her mind. Ever since the whole Jimin fiasco, despite her deep diving and frantic searching, nothing had turned up that indicated anyone was coming after her.

But she just wasn’t willing to believe she’d gotten away that easily. She almost killed a celebrity. And, due to that, she’d really wanted to seek legal advice from Min Su, under the guise of some far-fetched hypothetical, of course. Her friends weren’t onto her, and she couldn’t give them a reason to be.

She just had to find a way to casually broach the topic…

“Oh,” Binna gasped from her side, drawing the whole table’s attention to herself. She was carefully scrolling her phone with a freshly manicured nail, scowling slightly. It was so rare that Binna displayed any actual disdain, it had Y/N a bit curious.

“What’s wrong, Bin?”

“It’s nothing,” she replied immediately, then paused. “Well it’s not nothing but, it’s just…I really wished we lived in a world that respected idols as people, you know? Some people call themselves fans and act like famous people aren’t allowed to have any boundaries.” She then went on to describe how there’d been another sasaeng incident reported on a news site she followed to keep up with celebrity gossip.

Apparently, it was a pretty serious one, and crazed ‘fans’ had attacked an actress a well-known idol was reported to be dating. Her bodyguard had fended them off, but the actress still went to the hospital with some injuries.

Y/N perked up slightly, but Min Su and Chin-Mae were thankfully too engrossed in listening to Binna rant to notice. It would be much easier to bring up her question using the information Binna had just provided them as a pretext.

It was about time she had a stroke of good luck. Stopping to think it over, Y/N cringed. Not that she wasn’t sympathetic to the poor woman who had been harmed because of someone’s delusions. But it just…presented an opportunity she had to take, and….

‘Oh, why am I trying to rationalize it to myself?! I should just ask the question before the subject changes.’

That decided, she opened her mouth and spoke, doing her best to make it seem as casual as possible. “So Min Su, you’re practically a lawyer. What kind of charges could that person face? Attacking a celebrity and inflicting bodily harm isn’t the same as harassing them for a photo.”

Y/N silently patted herself on the back, sitting from her glass with an expression carefully schooled to look only mildly interested. Inside was another matter. She was rocking back in forth, heart hammering and eyes wide, waiting for an answer with baited breath.

“Hmm, well, I’ve mostly studied corporate law.” He admitted, playing with a ring on his index finger, “But I do know that given the severity, it’s likely both the actress and the company she’s represented under will press charges. Things are also moving faster these days, prosecuting people who do things like that.”

Y/N swallowed, eyes fixated on Min Su’s thoughtful expression. “There were also witnesses, so it’s very likely to result in a conviction.” Yes, there had been a witness in her case too. Well, J-Hope had only seen her fleetingly. Maybe. Hopefully not. But if she was on any camera then…it was most definitely over for her.

“The court could go light on them if it was a first offense…they might be sentenced to a large fine and community service…” Okay, Y/N thought. It would probably drain her savings, but it was still possible to bounce back and have a future, right? She could still put it in the past and become a CEO one day, right?! “Then again, it was a premeditated attack. Jail time is also a strong possibility.”

Her heart sank back down to her feet. Jail. What successful CEO in Korea had been to jail before graduating, and for assaulting an idol no less.

‘I. Am. Done.’

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” Binna giggled, “You look like you smelled a rotten egg. But I guess hearing about how far some crazy people will go is pretty disgusting, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ll have much sympathy for them, whatever happens.”

“…Yeah…” Y/N said once her words came unstuck. That was another thing. Her sweet friend was going to think she was a criminal. She had known Binna since high school, having shared a homeroom class with her. They were vague acquaintances then, friendly enough to speak from time to time but by no means close enough to hang out between classes or after school.

In fact, admittedly, Y/N used to wonder if Binna’s perky personality was just an act. It had to be, in her cynical rationalizing, because who was really that upbeat, in high school?

Later on, she would realize she was just projecting, and once she stopped doing that was when she truly came to appreciate Binna for all that she was, steadfast and supportive. Although they didn’t become close, didn’t become friends, until meeting at orientation when arriving at Korea University.

“They knew the consequences before they did it.” Chin-Mae joined in, swishing the last of his champagne around before drinking it down. “It’s stupid to think your life won’t be impacted when you run wild like that.”

Except, Y/N wanted to wail. She hadn’t known. She wasn’t a sasaeng, and she knew she had assaulted someone but at the same time she hadn’t really done anything wrong. Except maybe buy a cursed magical phone, that somehow was behind all this.

…Yeah, she’d just keep that thought to herself.

“Well,” Y/N smiled, “Thanks for giving your input.” She told Min Su, who nodded, humming with a cheerful ‘no problem’.

A cartoony chime went off, and Binna groaned as she stared down at her phone, “Nooo,” she sighed, sounding truly remorseful. “Right now?”

“What’s happening?” Chin-Mae raised a brow.

“Jimin is going live!” She whined, “And normally I’d watch but I’m having such a great time with all of you, and I don’t want to be rude…”

“It’s fine, go ahead.” Y/N said, forcing a smile. “We know how addicted to that stuff you are.” Really, she wanted the floor to swallow her into the abyss. She knew the minute she heard that sound what was going on. If her phone had been turned on, they would have heard the same noise coming from her purse too.

She had made an account on several apps BTS often broadcasted their lives to, and set an alert for just that occasion. There were a couple of false alarms she hadn’t tuned into once she saw they weren’t from the person she was basically stalking at this point. But this was it. The big moment.

He hadn’t done a solo live since the accident…but Binna said his members had mentioned that he had a small accident while practicing and was recovering well.

All of Army was behind him, sending him tons of well wishes from all over the world. It was sweet, but she wondered how fast they would turn if they knew she was behind their beloved idol’s injuries.

“Yeah, what Y/N said,” Chin-Mae rolled his eyes. “Check on your man,” he joked.

Binna giggled, flashing them a cute heart. “He’s not my man,” she replied playfully, “I’d have to get in line for that. Plus, I’m really more of an OT7, you know? It’s really hard to stick with one bias.”

Nonetheless, when she began to watch, since Y/N couldn’t exactly whip out her phone and do the same without raising suspicion, she subtly leaned closer to at least listen.

Of course, Binna was always more astute than she let on. “Oh, did you wanna see too?” She angled the screen so they could both see before Y/N even had the chance to protest.

And the live was just starting, the exact same idol she had seen what felt like a lifetime ago was sitting in a room by himself. It looked like he was on a couch, legs crossed, looking small in his soft oversized sweater and giving the camera a cute wave. “Hi, everyone,” his sweet voice said. “Thank you for waiting on me!”

Gushing comments poured in, cheering him and welcoming him back, asking him what he’d been up to, and telling him he looked good. Jimin tilted his head, a coy, secretive smile appearing on his shiny lips. Y/N couldn’t tell if he was wearing gloss or if they always looked like that.

She had been a bit too preoccupied the one and only time she had the opportunity to see them in person. He had dyed his hair a different color, though. It was now a shade of strawberry blonde that complimented his angelic features well.

“Well, I haven’t been up to much. Just resting, really.” he explained. “Even on days when I felt better and tried to join practices, the members just shooed me away.” He laughed. “Oh, but look at this!” He reached down, his head dipping out of screen for a minute, popping up seconds later holding a little pot. “Taehyung got me this ‘get well’ plant!” He showed them a cute little sapling.

Binna cooed, Y/N glancing at her then refocusing on his words. Who knew when a hidden meaning would pop up.

“I don’t know how well I’ll be able to take care of it; I’m not sure if I have a green thumb. But I’ll try my best!”

Comments came pouring in again, people saying he was going to enter his plant dad era, because collecting succulents could be addicting.

Other people gushed at the sweetness of the VMin friendship, whatever that was, and yet more people reminded Jimin that he looked really good. Yet one comment in particular seemed to catch his eye, and he squinted, seemingly intrigued.

“Hmm? You wish you were a plant so I could take care of you?” He repeated. “You don’t have to be a plant for me to want to take care of you.” The statement was very matter-of-fact, “You’re Army. I’ll always watch over Army.”

Binna sounded like she released a tiny sniffle. “Is he not just the sweetest?” She asked, nudging Y/N a bit. “Since you’re new to BTS, have you chosen a bias yet?”

Y/N wished she could tell her the real reason behind her sudden interest, but that was kind of out of the question. “No, not yet…”

“Y/N’s a BTS fan now?” Chin-Mae asked, “Since when?”

“Pretty recent.” Binna replied.

Y/N was only half listening to her friends, mostly focusing on Jimin’s chatter. Someone was still insisting they wanted to be his plant, and he looked nothing short of amused.

“Okay, if you insist. Should I start a garden then?” He asked his fans. Y/N watched, stunned, as his bright eyes narrowed into a practiced and very effective smolder. She had seen it in pictures before, but in real time it was really something else, “It’ll be full of so many pretty flowers, and you’ll all bloom just for me, right?” The heady purr of his words sent a shocked shiver right down her spine.

Binna swooned, while Y/N felt her breath hitch. ‘What… the…hell…was that?!’ A flirty throwaway line like that had never had that effect on her before.

But then, thinking back, he had flirted with her in the dance studio too. She’d just been too worried to pay attention. Clearly, the man was an old hand at the art of duality, going from wholesome to heathen in five seconds flat. That was…dangerous.

Binna seemed to already know how she felt, leaning into her with a sigh. “That, Y/N, is what happens when Jimin turns from angel to demon.” Her friend explained. “I’d say you’ll get used to it, but odds are you probably won’t.”

Jimin then went back to amicably speaking to everyone, as if he hadn’t just teased fans within an inch of their lives. The conversation moved on, and he was speaking about upcoming projects he was excited about or a funny habit that he had noticed in his band member. All normal, non-threatening stuff. Y/N was almost thinking she could relax. Almost.

“What? You want to tell me a secret?” Jimin was reading another comment. “Okay, I’m listening…”

Y/N quirked a brow at the comment. “Sometimes I dream about you.” it read.

The idol grinned, replying casually. “Sometimes I miss Army so much I end up thinking about all of you in the middle of the day.” Y/N’s blood ran cold as he looked intensely at the screen. “It’s almost like you’re there…”

That was it. The sign she was waiting for! He was talking to her.

“I…” Y/N stumbled to her feet, startling Binna. “Need the bathroom, I’ll be back.”

“Oh, okay.” Her friend said slowly, setting down her phone. “Is anything wrong? You don’t…look so good suddenly.”

‘You wouldn’t either in my shoes,’ she thought miserably. ‘Park Jimin is going to sue me within an inch of my life.’

“It’s alright,” she held a hand to her stomach, selling the illusion of sudden nausea. “Just…lady problems.” She said lamely.

Poor Binna didn’t even question it; she nodded, eyes full of sympathy. “Well text if you need anything.” She squeezed Y/N’s hand. “I’ve got a few extra tampons in my purse.” she whispered discreetly. Really, Binna was too good of a friend for her.

Y/N rounded the corner in a hurry, blindly guessing where the bathrooms might be located. She passed their waitress, rolling out a cart that she was pretty sure contained their meals. Everything looked delicious, and of course she couldn’t even enjoy the great evening Min Su had generously provided. All because she was screwed.

She hustled into a bathroom as fancy as the rest of the steak house, and so spacious there would probably be an echo. She hustled over to the sink, activating the handless system by shoving her trembling fingers under it. As she splashed her face with warm water, the dread twisting up her stomach gave way to deja vu.

‘This is just like…the event at the internship.’ The wild day that would be the beginning of the end of her life. Removing her hands from the water, she gently pressed the pad of her thumb up to her eye, tapping it a few times.

Her makeup was well done, but it still felt like she could see bags. ‘At least it can’t get worse.’ She assumed. After all, what was worse than this? The dumb phone was put away in her clutch, turned off, and back at the table.

The very least she could do was fake a smile so she didn’t ruin everyone’s meal, and enjoy what might be her last chance to experience this. They probably didn’t serve many steakhouse dinners where she was going.

That thought firmly in mind, Y/N squared her shoulders and prepared to march back out, tightly gripping her clutch at her side. Wait, her clutch?!

Binna must have handed it over to her, assuming she might need it. She had said to text if she needed anything, and Y/N couldn’t exactly do that without a phone. Well, at least it was off. Y/N wasn’t totally sure what kind of phenomenon had disrupted her life, but it all started with that phone.

No sooner had she backed away from the mirror than a wave of dizziness overtook her, sending her keeling forward. Instinctively, she clutched the sink to maintain her balance, almost screaming out when she looked up as the dizzy feeling passed.

The mirror in front of her was the same as always, a reflection of her wide, mortified eyes. But the long glossy mirror that made up the entire wall of the bathroom at the entrance of the restroom?

A reflection of another room, just like before. “No…” she whispered, not ready to admit that it was happening again. What was worse? All of it being real, or her losing her mind? “Not again…!”

She clenched her eyes shut, then attempted to get her feet moving. She would keep her head down and hurry right on past, to the exit. That was the plan at least. And she was making good progress to move without falling over in her modest heels, but the minute she actually got closer to the mirrors, a strange feeling overwhelmed her.

Almost like a compulsion to stop. Y/N felt like she was watching a scene in a movie, watching a victim wander down the hall of a haunted house, towards the homicidal attacker lying in wait.

Her feet were making her move on her own! Her fingertips reached out, and yet she had no control. She had to touch the mirror, see if that room on the other side was real. But deep down, she knew the answer before her fingers made contact.

It was a strange emotion somewhere between surprise resignation when she wobbled onto a floor that was not marble and found her eyes darting around a room that was not the steak house.

Pressing against the mirror desperately, she confirmed what a large part of her had assumed. There was no give to the mirror, apparently no way back from the time being. Was she even still in Gangnam?

Her senses were feeding her all kinds of information, and frankly, it was starting to overwhelm her. The raw scents of sweat, male musk, and ammonia could only mean one thing, and it was further proven when she peered around the blind corner of a painted brick wall, only to see two people exercising.

Well, one was doing stretches, and with the way he hopped up, he had just finished. An older man in a tank top and sweats had pads strapped to his hands, and Y/N watched closely, not even daring to breathe, as the younger man sat down and laced boxing gloves onto his taped hands.

He stood up, and who she assumed was his trainer got into a defensive stance while the younger man hopped around nimbly. Y/N watched, wide-eyed as they began to train, the guy in the black hoodie practicing blocking, jabbing and dodging.

It was clear he had put a lot of dedication into this. Y/N was never much of a sports person, but she knew the result of hard-work when she saw it. His moves were fluid, and instead of slowing down, they got quicker the more he went at it.

Somehow, it never felt like a good time to draw their attention to herself, go wobbling over in her dinner attire, and ask for directions back to the High Tower SteakHouse. She had a few other options, of course, like calling Binna. Or maybe Chin-Mae…but how did she explain it?

She had gone to the restroom for a few minutes and wound up in a completely different location without leaving the restaurant?! Then again, it meant they would really have no choice but to believe her.

It was impossible for her to have gone anywhere far when they all saw her leave for the bathroom. Maybe she could sneak out while they were distracted and then call when she was outside the gym, not standing around all conspicuous.

Y/N was weighing the merits of her plan when she heard an excited yell, whipping her head around and watching the trainer give his client a few congratulatory pats on the back, apparently satisfied with the work he’d put in for the day.

They began speaking lowly to themselves, and Y/N paled when she noticed the only door out of the room she could spot was behind them…. The corner she was standing behind seemed to be where the water fountains and locker rooms were located.

Hiding out in there was another option, but it didn’t exactly appeal when she would have to keep checking to see when the gym was empty. Right now it was just the two of them, but what if more people came in?

They’d have questions about someone being dressed like she was, right? Then again she could also be found out just staying put where she was. Ugh…it was beyond frustrating.

Her luck was completely shot, huh?

A little hope returned when the trainer waved at the young man and then began heading for the exit. She assumed they were done for the day, and the second guy would be done soon too. But not so, because then she’d actually be lucky.

As soon as his trainer had cleared the room, he gave a loud sigh, beginning to shimmy out of his hoodie. Y/N didn’t think she was close enough to make the door in the small moment he had his vision obstructed, but she was close enough to get an eyeful.

If his training earlier hadn’t tipped her off that he was dedicated, his physique would have. He was all hard lines, though the minuscule glimpse of a thin waist when his shirt rode up with his hoodie was impressive too.

She could see a full sleeve of tattoos decorating one arm, and coupled with his longish two-toned hair, a deep brown that gave way to a raging red, he was kind of…hard to look at. Distracting in a way she didn’t anticipate. She didn’t get distracted, not usually.

He, on the other hand, got straight to business. Oblivious of her presence, he walked right over to the large, hanging punching bag and began to hit it. But he wasn’t just hitting it. Again, Y/N was no boxing aficionado, but she knew he knew what he was doing.

His strikes were always controlled, his breathing never ragged the way she could guess hers would be. He pivoted on his back foot, and she knew that the small movement put more power into his strikes.

He was hitting the bag like it owed him money, grunting occasionally, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing in his t-shirt. At some point, Y/N figured he would stop. He would either head out the door, or into the locker room, and that was when she would flee.

Hopefully, wherever the cruel cosmic entity that thought her life was a joke had dumped her, it wasn’t very far from the restaurant. Then again, shouldn’t she have gotten a worried text by now?

She’d been gone for a while. Or, maybe Binna had actually come to check on her and seen that she had disappeared entirely. Y/N could imagine the freak out as Binna flailed her way back to the table and informed Min Su and Chin-Mae that somehow, someway, she’d been kidnapped.

What was her life lately, she thought miserably. With nothing to really do but scroll her phone or continue to watch the mystery man go at it, she turned to checking what news was trending for the day. Normally, she at least kept up with news involving the business world, if nothing else.

The celebrity gossip blogs she left to Binna, BTS investment notwithstanding. Stocks were up at several companies she had an interest in working at after graduation—assuming she made it with her life in chaos lately—so that was good.

A CEO had resigned from his post at a company she had almost interned at but decided not to at the last minute off a strange feeling. Some scandal involving embezzlement. So she dodged a bullet there.

And, lastly, BTS’ Jungkook had endorsed some new sports brand, and now merchandise was selling out faster than it could be restocked. The article included a picture of Jungkook, posing in shorts and a t-shirt next to a mountain of different athletic gear for various sports.

Wait. Y/N could have swallowed her tongue. Wait. That man, the man in the picture and the one boxing…were the same person?!

Feeling like she may just be sick, Y/N did a quick check, and really took in the boxer. That was undoubtedly the idol pictured in the article.

Not only was she going to jail for assaulting one BTS member (albeit on accident) a fact that she had managed to forget up until that moment, she got pulled back into the same thing that got her in trouble before, and ended up crossing paths with another one?!

Once it came out what happened between her and Park Jimin, there was no possible way people would believe she wasn’t a sasaeng. The circumstantial evidence just kept getting more and more damning.

Jungkook. Jungkook. What did she know about Jungkook? Admittedly not much, considering all her focus had really been on Jimin for obvious reasons. She knew…that Binna said he was the youngest in the boy group. He was multitalented, and here her friend swore she wasn’t exaggerating or anything.

According to her, he was like some kind of Barbie of idols, he could do it all. Those weren’t her exact words, but it was the gist. Jungkook also had a habit of being a little shy around members of the opposite sex, or so it was claimed.

Y/N personally had always thought all idols had to be manufacturing some parts of their personalities for public consumption. Who knew which parts? None of the scraps of information she had been fed told her anything about whether he was liable to press charges for stalking him or not.

Then again, he was an idol, and knowing that, Y/N had to assume he had gone out of his way to book private gym time, hence why the spacious work out room was empty save for him. Which meant him catching her was going to lead to a world of trouble.

How good were her odds if she just booked it for the exit the minute he went back to the locker room? Or if he left, she’d wait a little bit to be sure he had cleared the building, then she’d leave too. Waiting…yep…that’s all she could do. If she wasn’t in a dress, and didn’t find the idea so dirty, she would slump over on the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook caught the punching bag as it swung back from his last strike, finally feeling satisfied with his boxing for the time being. His limbs had that good burn that he liked, and his heart rate was up, despite his controlled breathing. But he wasn’t ready to leave just yet, so he decided to switch from boxing to something new. After a break.

Unlacing his boxing gloves, he found his gym bag and rummaged inside for his water bottle. Sitting down on a mat, he took a few sips, trying not to gulp it down too fast. His bottle was empty in no time, despite his attempts at moderation, and refilling before he resumed working out didn’t seem like a bad idea.

His footsteps echoing in the big empty gym was probably his imagination, but the weird sight when he rounded the corner? That he was pretty sure was real. Leaning against the wall, a woman…no, a girl, dressed up like she had somewhere important to be was nodding off. He froze, staring, all kinds of thoughts flying through his head.

Who was she? How’d she get in? When did she get in? Was she dangerous? Did he need to call for back up? Jungkook had purposely began training at this gym because it was exclusive. As his fame had grown, unfortunately he had to stop using more easy to find public gyms.

The one at HYBE was an option, but sometimes he wanted something…quieter. Trainees who came in meant well, and they tried to be respectful besides giving him friendly greetings, but they couldn’t help but gawk, and that made it awkward when he was trying to get in the zone. Here, he had thought, was perfect.

But maybe he was rushing to conclusions. He didn’t know anything about the situation besides a girl in a nice dress was falling asleep by the water fountains while standing up. Her head slumped forward, then snapped up quickly as she jolted awake, eyes wide and alert.

That was when they locked gazes, and his loose, sore muscles tensed right up. She, on the other hand, curled away like she was facing a thug in an alley. It was bemusing; yeah he’d bulked up a lot in the last several years after he got serious about training. Jungkook never considered himself all that intimidating, though.

“Are you… staff?” he asked, since it didn’t seem like she was going to speak up first. Not with the way she kept looking like the guillotine was coming down on her head any moment.

It took a reasonably long time for her to compose herself and answer, which was another pretty big tip off that something was not right. He was ready to whip out his phone and call security. Or at least he would be, if he hadn’t put it on do not disturb and left it in his bag.

“This is all a misunderstanding, really,” she warbled, her hands slapped the wall behind her like she was trying to steady herself. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to be here.”

“What?” Jungkook was definitely growing suspicious. No one who wasn’t up to something just answered like that.

“I was just going to wait until you left and I guess I started to nod off…” she ran a shaky hand through her hair, disturbing it a little. “But really, please, if you’ll pretend you never saw me, I promise, I’ll be on my way.”

He backed away quickly as she lurched forward, but before he could tell her not to do anything funny, she bowed very formally, and the idol watched, perplexed. When he didn’t respond in any way, she resumed her upright position, then tried to brush by him with her head down.

Though, when he noticed the phone clenched tight in her fist, he acted without thinking. Something his hyungs had told him to be careful of doing in the past. At least they weren’t around to scold him.

“Hey,” he seized her wrist, and she stopped in her tracks, though he wasn’t expecting her reaction at all. Her eyes took in the hand on her like she could just flay it off with the intensity of her stare alone, and then she met his eyes head-on, hers surprisingly stony. “Your phone…”

“What about it?” she tried tugging her hand away, but he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. Not until he got some answers. He liked this gym. He wanted to keep using this gym, and at the thought that his privacy was being invaded yet again, and he would have to find somewhere else, yet again, he was getting a little worked up.

“That’s an Army phone, a Galaxy Z Flip 4: Army Edition.”

Her eyes widened, and then she scoffed, shaking her head. “Yeah, I guess you would know. But to tell you the truth, though I can admire your band’s marketability, this phone itself has been nothing but problems. This is just the latest one. Now, please, let go.” There was some bite in her tone now, her voice surprisingly stern.

When she tugged again, he acquiesced, something she probably didn’t expect, since she stumbled before catching herself. And when she felt her cellphone tugged right out of her hand? She rounded on him, scowling. “That belongs to me.” She held her hand out, clearly expecting it back.

“Why are you here? This is a private gym, and you don’t sound like you’re staff.”

She snatched for the phone, but he held it away, using his speed to his advantage. “Are you Army?”

“What? No,” she sounded offended by the notion, which in turn offended him. Then again, a true Army wouldn’t do this to him. Wouldn’t invade his space. “And what does that matter?”

“You’re not Army but you’ve got a phone that’s a rare exclusive. Only Army would want to own something like this. And if you’d go this far, you might be a sasaeng.”

Here, she did pause in trying to retrieve her phone, a bit red in the face under her makeup. “Please, between my class schedule and internship, who would even have the time? The people who think stalking and harassing idols is worth jeopardizing their future for really need…” Surprisingly, the girl tried to jump for the phone like she wasn’t in heels, but he held it above his head, which meant it was way above hers, “…a hobby!”

“So I won’t find pictures you secretly took on this?” Jungkook squinted, not convinced.

“No!” She hissed, jumping again, “Now who’s invading whose privacy, you…you muscle-headed, bunny-eyed brute!”

He was so taken aback, he faltered, and with one last pounce, the mystery girl had snatched the phone, though not without a cost.

Before she could even yell out in triumph, her heel wobbled and her foot rolled. Jungkook watched in slow motion, wincing in automatic sympathy as she went down.

Time sped up as she cried out, on the ground and clutching her ankle in a dress too nice to be touching the bare gym floor. He stood over her, carefully watching her face at first. He could tell she was in pain, but attempting not to show the extent.

Something about that alone…took him back to his early days. A wave of nostalgia he didn’t want to feel washed over him. He would hide his exhaustion, sometimes even hide injuries sustained while on stage until the end of a performance, until he couldn’t hide it anymore, just to avoid worrying his hyungs.

And when they caught him, like they inevitably always did, he’d cry, apologize, worry they would resent him. It didn’t make sense to everyone, probably only to those who had experience firsthand with the feeling. Not wanting to let others down, wanting to live up to everyone’s expectations, struggling with the fact that they were still human.

The girl gingerly tried to shift her injured ankle, and that alone seemed to send a fresh wave of pain throbbing through it. With the way she bit her lip and clenched her eyes to stifle the cry he could just tell.

And even though Jungkook had been concerned about a million things regarding her appearance, including that she might be another delusional ‘fan’, no one could fake pain that expertly. Plus, she’d have to be some actress to make her ankle swell on command.

It was probably stupid of him to drop his guard, even for a second, but he found himself dropping to his knees, almost reaching out, and then hesitating. She stared up at him through her lashes, her own eyes as guarded as his had been, but wavering as she focused on ignoring her obvious injury. “I need…I need to call my friend.”

Making up his mind, Jungkook loosely grasped her foot by the heel, ignoring her half-hearted attempts to swat his hand away. He extended her leg, careful not to hurt her as he manipulated her foot to get a better idea of how bad it was. “You rolled it pretty hard.” He finally concluded.

“Yeah, no kidding.” Jungkook briefly met eyes with her again, but she stubbornly looked away. “I wonder how that happened.”

Guilt hit him pretty fast. Yeah. Even if he thought she was an intruder, he should have just called security and let them handle it. They were never far, and there was no way she could have stopped him. Not by physically overpowering at least.

“Hang on,” he told her, setting her foot down and getting back on his feet. “I can help.”

“That’s a nice gesture,” she ground out, failing to hide a wince, “But really, I have my phone, so I can just call my fri—” she grabbed it and opened it, only for her face to fall. “Really? Now?” He heard her grumble irritably.

Noticing his quizzical face, turned a blank screen to him. “It’s dead.” She deadpanned.

“Okay, then let me help.”

Jungkook didn’t know this stranger by any stretch of the imagination, but he had anticipated what her response would be. It probably sounded something like “no”, since she seemed disinclined to take his help.

Was she always like this, so stubborn? Was it some kind of pride thing? He had been there, too; his hyungs really had their hands full with him over the years, didn’t they?

Retrieving the first aid kit Jimin had gifted him some time back, he made a brisk return to find the girl in much the same position he had left her, staring sulkily at her injured ankle. She looked up when he approached, but didn’t say a word.

“You might have to take off your shoe.” he informed her.

He waited to get a response, the big plastic kit held by his side. Jungkook wondered if she just planned to ignore him, and if he should take her silence as consent and proceed, but that didn’t feel right. Finally, she mumbled, “…This is really happening…isn’t it?”

Nodding slowly, he popped the kit open and examined its contents, locating the roll of compression wrap. While he did that, he noticed her leaning forward, trying to unstrap her heel without moving in a way that would hurt her foot even more.

Jungkook had never worn heels, but he always thought anyone who did without falling over must have some hidden talent. Hers weren’t as tall as some, but she was still plucking at the strap with building frustration.

Guessing she wanted it over and done with just as bad as he did, the idol seized the heel of her foot again, bringing her leg out and reaching for the buckle himself.

If he expected a beaming smile and a grateful attitude, he’d be sorely mistaken. She gave him the stink eye. “I can do at least this much.”

“Maybe, but I can do it faster.” He shrugged, already loosening the heel and sliding it off while holding her foot steady. From so close, and without the shoe in the way, he could really see just how fast the ankle had discolored and swollen. Again, he wrestled with the guilt, absently reaching for the wrap. “So,” he began by holding her ankle at a ninety-degree angle, “Who are you? Because this doesn’t mean I forgot…”

“Believe me, I’m someone who doesn’t want to be here anymore than you want me to be here. I didn’t have a choice, not that you’d ever believe me…” she huffed. “But, because legal repercussions are probably unavoidable, I’ll start by being cooperative. Maybe when they review all this, that’ll work in my favor.” It sounded like she was talking to herself, not him, but then she cleared her throat and extended her hand. “My name is L/N Y/N.”

Jungkook didn’t expect such a strange introduction, and the attempt at a handshake reminded him of Namjoon-hyung. He grasped her palm very briefly, barely holding on to it long enough for their hands to go up and down, but she didn’t seem inclined to want to hold onto him either.

“Y/N…” he repeated.

“As for what I’m doing here…well, again, it’s not something any sane person would believe.” She switched her focus to watching him meticulously wrap her ankle. It was pretty careful care for someone that could have been stalking him, but he had already started, and if he was going to do it, his sense of perfectionism said he had to do it right.

“Are you…insane?”

“Excuse me?” She didn’t look very amused, but he guessed it wasn’t exactly a polite question.

“You said a sane person wouldn’t believe you…” he explained.

“I am not insane,” Y/N rubbed a hand to her forehead. “I just feel like I am lately,” she whispered. “I was dining out with some friends, in the restaurant bathroom and then…”

Jungkook waited while he secured the wrap with some bandage clips and closed his first aid kit. “And then?”

“It’s going to sound insane,” she finished matter-of-factly, “You’re going to call me a liar and accuse me of stalking you, then we’ll be right back where we started.”

Jungkook was torn between still wanting to contact security, but also experiencing some curiosity he couldn’t quite tamp down. “Do you have proof?” It didn’t sound like she did.

“Proof?” Y/N repeated, arching a brow as if he had just said something strange.

“You’re not even going to try to make me believe you?” he goaded.

“Sure, help me up and I’ll hobble right over to the mirror. You’ll see exactly how I got here and this whole think’ll be cleared up just like that.” Her tone was so sugary the sarcasm was evident.

Jungkook figured he had indulged this for this long…why not go all the way. Offering her a hand, he warned her to brace herself, and then pulled her up with ease. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She said warily, trying not to show him how much she was utilizing the wall for support.

“Okay,” Jungkook nodded, “Show me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Idols were weird. Y/N wasn’t sure if it was just the fact that they lived in a completely ‘different world’ from normal people or what, but she hadn’t expected her first extended run-in with some world-famous celebrity to go like this.

Park Jimin was one thing; he’d been concussed, so that was enough to make him loopy. She hadn’t expected anything out of his mouth to make sense. But this guy, Jean Jungkook?

Totally different. He wasn’t suffering a head injury, for one. And he had seemed angry at first, but still handled her appearance in much the same way a mean boy on the playground would in elementary school. Playing keep away with her phone, really?

He’d even treated her with decency when she tripped and sprained her ankle. God, that was yet another thing she was going to have to deal with. Sprained her ankle! Sprained! How was she supposed to get around campus quickly? It was huge. Though she supposed that wasn’t a concern at present.

The idol’s strange demand was at the forefront of her mind, seeing as he was right behind her while she hobbled slowly to the mirror, her heel in one hand and her phone in the other.

She must have looked like a suffering pigeon, doing a funny little hop. But she refused to let him touch her after she got her bearings. It was humiliating enough to have someone see her make a fool of herself and get injured to boot, idol or no idol. Well actually, his status made it even worse.

And he was watching her oh so closely as she made it to the mirror, taking a deep breath and turned around to look at him with some difficulty. “Here it is.” She said flatly. “How I got in, and how I probably would be able to get out, if life felt like cutting me a break.”

He stepped around her, staring at her incredulously like she knew he would. She would look at herself that way in his position. Jungkook pressed against the mirror with the flat of his hand, one good time, as if to confirm it was solid. “You used the mirror? What, like magic? Like a drama?”

“You’re the one who said you wanted proof; I never said it would satisfy you.” she retorted. “I barely understand it myself, but what I’m saying is the only truth I have to cling to.” Her chin dipped, “No matter how implausible it is…”

She knew she would get the same result he had when she pushed on the mirror, but as if to confirm her fate was truly sealed, Y/N tried anyway. When her hand went right through, the cool glass giving way to cool nothingness, she yelled, pitching forward.

Jungkook made a noise, something startled, and she glanced at him to confirm he was seeing what was happening. His bulging eyes made it evident that he was. Yes! Y/N jerked her arm away too fast, and in doing so almost fell back on her ass, if not for the lightning reflexes of the idol who moved to extend an arm around her waist.

Y/N got her bearings, smoothed a hand over her shirt and her racing heart, and tried to hold back her tears. He could see. He could really see. The weeks of going crazy in silence, holding it all in, and someone else…could see.

“Your arm went through the glass,” he breathed.

“More than my arm’s gone through.” Y/N spoke with more confidence, now that there was no way he could deny it. “That’s…how I got here.”

The idol once again moved forward, pressing both hands against the mirror. Nothing. “How?” He wondered.

“I don’t know.” Y/N replied, “It’s been happening since…since I got this phone. So that’s my only theory, that the events are connected.” She held up the dead device and wiggled it around. “Not that that’s a story anyone would believe if I got caught breaking and entering.”

The idol appeared to be thinking, worrying his lip piercing with his tongue, “Unless they saw it.”

Y/N squared her shoulders, eyeing him up and down. He fidgeted, looking small somehow, despite being fairly tall with a healthy amount of muscle. From close up it was even easier to see than watching him from behind the wall.

“It might come as a surprise for you to know, not everyone would be as cavalier as you about all this. In fact, I’d go as far as saying your reaction was a bit…strange. Has anyone told you that you’re odd?”

‘Nice going, Y/N.’ She thought bitterly, ‘That was over the top blunt. You’re not trying to make an enemy out of the very first person to be witnessing the crazy with you.’

Luckily, the idol didn’t look overly offended. Jungkook pursed his lips, big eyes sheepish as he rubbed his head. “Uh-huh, my hyung.” he said thoughtfully.

“Well…” Y/N gestured vaguely. “Now that you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you know about as much as I do. Would it be too much trouble to ask if I could…go?” Pointing a thumb toward the mirror like she was about to miss her cab would seem dumb if he didn’t know.

“Oh, right,” Jungkook’s tapped the mirror again. “You’re going back to where you came from.”

“Ideally,” Y/N frowned, “I’ve been gone a long time. There’s no way my friends aren’t concerned about that. And when they can’t find me who knows what they’ll think.”

Somewhat afraid the give they had both witnessed was a one-off, Y/N pressed her hand to the mirror once again, happy when it rippled and went right through. It might have been too late to salvage the evening with her friends, but at least she could salvage her reputation.

#call me crazy #ot7xreader #btsxreader #jungkook x reader #jiminxreader #taehyungxreader #yoongixreader #jin x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader

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anonnie-in-wonderland · 2 years

Text

Call Me Crazy

Rating: T

Word Count: 6.7k

Warning(s): briefly implied racism, Y/N experiences paranoid thoughts, panic attacks, head injury

Summary: When Y/N gets her hands on the newest Samsung phone, she thinks at most she’ll get a little clout with her friends and fewer dropped calls. A direct portal to BTS? Not so much.

Tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | poly| FM!POC!reader

Ch.1 Ch.2: Star-Crushed

A/N: Hello, hello! Crashing in from life as a college student (why do I keep doing this omg) to provide another update! 😌 Feels like the true upturning of poor Y/N’s orderly life starts here. I also feel like OT7 fics haven’t been updated as much lately so this is my humble contribution. 🙇🏽‍♀️ I had so much fun with this chapter! So please feel free to tell me what you think? 🥺

Some habits were hard to shake. So despite having the day off, she woke up at seven sharp. Rolling over to squint across the room and find Binna still sleeping, she proceeded to shuffle out of bed.

Thoughts of how to spend her day floated vaguely through her head as she shut the bathroom door behind her.

People would be surprised, she imagined, to find that she didn’t plan every minute of every day—she just planned the productive hours of most days.

In high school, Y/N had been voted most likely to become a CEO before age thirty, and there were far worse superlatives to be associated with.

Maybe there was even some truth to that one, but it was coincidental. She was now studying business with every intention of climbing the corporate ladder to the very top.

There had never been a doubt about how she would go about achieving her goals, either. Y/N was focused, level-headed and disciplined—according to teachers past and present.

But a small feeling of dissatisfaction she just couldn’t quash kept surfacing as of late. Somewhere along the line friends; family, maybe even classmates, professors and acquaintances, had come to think of her as predictable.

No, they didn’t phrase it in that way exactly, but it couldn’t be much more obvious. Spontaneity was not her strong suit, admittedly. But somehow the fact that people thought she was chained to routine and sameness made her feel…pathetic.

It was no matter, though. Y/N endeavored to do what she always did to stave off self-pity. It had worked for years and it was unlikely to fail her now. She would seize the day, and fall into productivity. Of the relaxing sort, of course.

In record time, she had showered, groomed and dressed. Since it was her day off, she likely could have made do walking around in sweats and a t-shirt (not that she owned many casual articles of clothing), but dressing to impress at all times was a mantra she had lived by since starting university.

Y/N put on a pressed blouse with a warm, woolen cardigan and starched slacks. Her slip on flats were casual enough to make up for it, plus comfortable.

As she stood and adjusted the collar of her shirt so that it overlaid perfectly on her cardigan, Binna lifted her head, hair messy and voice a groggy whisper. “Thought you were off?”

“I am.” Y/N began to search for her bag, passing her new phone and plucking it from the charger.

“Dressed like that?” A prickle of hesitation jabbed its way in as she paused to stare down at herself.

“Why not?” She asked, the tiniest bit of insecurity seeping into her tone.

“That’s our Y/Nie.” Binna smiled sleepily, her lips shiny from the bit of drool on her mouth. “Always prepared.” Then she threw her head back into her pillow, and light snores promptly followed.

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle. Binna would be in for a rude awakening when her alarm clock went off in fifteen minutes. But, she supposed for the time being the poor girl could enjoy that extra fifteen minutes of blissed out sleep. She seemed to need it.

Y/N was quiet as she exited their bedroom, feet silent in the carpeted hall on her way into their utility kitchen. Figuring Binna wouldn’t want much when she got up, just some toast and cereal, she decided it was okay to focus on fixing her usual: an egg white omelette with two shakes of pepper, some low-fat vanilla yogurt and granola, and a black coffee with extra creamer. While she brought out the pan and got the stove ready, Y/N flitted back and forth between her breakfast items and the coffee machine. Binna had brought it with her when she’d moved in, but Y/N probably got more use out of it than its owner.

The eggs sizzled in the pan as she cracked the shells and separated them from their yolks, the coffee machine’s gentle hum the perfect background noise. It wasn’t too loud or too jarring, which gave her time to think. Normally, about class work or her internship, but this was a day off Y/N reminded herself. So maybe something like yoga at the park instead? Hmm…but she wasn’t really dressed for that.

The coffee machine chimed twice, signifying her fresh brewed bliss was ready, and Y/N wasted no time pouring herself a steaming cup. The creamer was added in short order, and while it cooled enough to be drinkable, she finished neatly folding her omelet and stirring granola into her yogurt.

Sitting down with her foodstuffs, she began digging in, the sound of the spoon touching the bottom of the plastic cup, or the fork clinking against the plate as she ate her omelet piece by piece the only noises in the apartment. Some might find a silent breakfast lonely , but Y/N appreciated the way in which being alone with her thoughts allowed her to process things.

After she had lost her parents, people always saw her as quiet and a little intense, oddly put together for a recently orphaned child. Her aunt and uncle had been at a loss at first, seemingly trying to piece together how to approach talking to her. It had taken some rocky attempts, awkward small talk that petered into stuffy silences, but they had eventually all learned how to coexist.

Actually, maybe she should call them. It had been a while, hadn’t it? She reached for her phone, shiny and new, sitting on the table. It displayed the time as she dragged it closer with one finger, having to momentarily pause eating to flip it open.

Nice compact design, smooth interface, and lots of unexplored features. Y/N had to reluctantly admit…she was impressed. She still had to transfer all her contacts into it though. If she were like most college students her age, she would be pulling her hair out, her contacts lost in a tragic spill. Being ‘old-fashioned’ had its benefits, she thought a bit smugly. Later on today she could put all the contacts she had copied down into the notepad where she kept numbers into her phone.

Y/N began thinking about what else people normally did upon purchasing a new cell. Spam text everyone apologetically about how their phone number had changed? Maybe later.

The conversation in the car on their way back from the phone store came to mind. “Since you’ve finally joined everybody in the twenty-first century, you should download some apps!” Binna had suggested. “They come in really handy.”

Apps, huh? Well, Y/N had never been much for them, aside from keeping an eye on the world of app development—the creator of the next Twitter might be out there, a business partner waiting to be snatched up—but using them herself would be a first.

“I’ve got the time,” she reasoned. “I’ll just see what all the fuss is about.”

Five minutes tops. That’s all the time she would devote to scrolling the app store.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a crick in her neck and her back ached. She was also pretty sure Binna may have been through with her shower, considering she could faintly hear the blow dryer going from down the hall.

Wow. She’d really spent nearly thirty-five minutes looking at apps. But, in her defense, no one told her about the sheer number of them! If Y/N had known there was a pocket schedule and planner app, she may have gotten on board sooner.

Downloading that one and several more she saw that might be helpful, Y/N wiggled. She was already excited to begin using them, reading the reviews as she tidied the kitchen until the only trace of her breakfast was the pan she had used scraped and in the sink, ready to be washed later.

Satisfied, she called out a goodbye to Binna, who came bursting from the bedroom, fully dressed and fixing her hair into buns. “Heading out?” She asked, slinging her messenger bag higher on her shoulder. “Let’s walk together.”

“You don’t even know if I’m headed the same way.” Y/N snickered, “And don’t you want breakfast? You know you’re no good at thinking on an empty stomach, and you’ve got that presentation right before lunch.”

“Y/N!” Binna pouted, “Omo, such a mother hen. I’ll be fine. I can get a breakfast bagel at the cafe.”

“The line’s really long this time of day,” Y/N pointed out.

“It’ll be fine!” Binna repeated, throwing her hands up, “I still want to walk with you.”

“Okaaay,” Y/N opened the door and stepped aside, waiting expectantly. “Lead the way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The smell of egg and cheese wafted enticingly through the air, Y/N glancing over to find her friend happily munching her breakfast sandwich, perfectly in step with her.

It was a gorgeous, mild fall day out. Leaves were getting that nice autumnal tone, and despite the swift changing of seasons, the school’s lawn was as bright green as ever—thanks to the help of artificial means of course.

Y/N was surprised that the little spot on campus that only stayed open until noon and served Western breakfast foods didn’t have a longer line.

There were more than thirty thousand students attending Korea University, and it felt like over half of them were scurrying everywhere at all times of the day and night.

Binna looked up in time to see her staring, chewing and swallowing the bite in her mouth, then offering the rest to her. “Want some?” she offered.

“I’ve already eaten breakfast,” Y/N smiled gently, lightly pushing Binna’s arm down to keep the avocado sauce on the breakfast sandwich from spilling onto her cardigan. “Thanks though.”

“But Y/N,” Binna whined, taking another big bite, “You always have such a small breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day for a reason!” Spoken like a pre-med student, Y/N mused.

She could just see Binna’s future office, set up to be child-friendly with charts about nutrition depicting smiling vegetables and fruits on the walls.

“Yes, yes eomma, I know.”

Taking another bite of her food, Binna huffed, “Fine. But just eat a decent meal later, okay? You’re off today so there’s no reason for you to be skipping lunch.”

“Now who’s the mother hen?” Y/N tutted, pulling out her phone and putting in a reminder for a twenty minute lunch break. “There. I did it. Happy?”

She was met with silence, which was always unusual for Binna. Worriedly, she turned to her friend, only to find a very sly smile on her lips (and a bit of egg and avocado sauce in the corner of her mouth). “What’s that look for?”

Binna tittered, shrugging as if to say ‘oh nothing, nothing…! Except…’

“…You like it, don’t you?”

“Huh?”

“You like your new phone.” She clarified. “You were fiddling with it last night when I went to bed, and you were never attached to your old one like that.” Binna finished off her sandwich, eyes narrowed disbelievingly. “Last week you told me playing with my phone before bed would cause me to wake up unrested.”

“Well it will.” Y/N maintained matter-of-factly, “It disrupts your brain’s ability to find its proper circadian rhythm. Studies prove that.”

“Right, sure,” Binna scoffed, “And suddenly you’re willing to risk it because…what, you discovered technology can actually be fun and not just for convenience?”

“Bin, please. It’s just a phone.” To prove her point, Y/N promptly closed the device and stuck it in her pocket.

“It’s not just any phone,” Binna exclaimed, crumpling her sandwich wrapper up and throwing it away as they passed a trash can. She made the shot from about ten feet away, and two boys that had been sitting nearby on the grass saw it and cheered dramatically like their favorite team had scored a goal.

Binna played along, posing cutely and giving a thumbs up. Y/N rolled her eyes. Sports fanatics. “Like I was saying,” Bin continued, smoothing her beige sweater vest into place. “Y/N you got the Galaxy Z Flip 4: Army Edition.” She whispered conspiratorially, glancing around as if someone might overhear. “I didn’t even know that phone actually existed until yesterday.”

Ah yes, yesterday. Where Y/N’s simple quest for a new phone had taken an unexpected turn.

Suk-kyu slunk from the store’s stockroom, while Y/N waited patiently with her friends in the lobby. He was clutching a box to his chest as if was some precious national treasure. Bemused, Y/N watched him set it down on the table with reverence and lift the lid. “I know you chose another color, but you seem like a very discerning customer. So I wanted to offer you this instead.”

The lid came up fully and Binna squealed, hopping in place, “Oh! My! Goodness!”

Y/N turned to Chin-Mae for clarity, since Binna was currently occupied gushing over the phone, but he shrugged, as clueless as she was. “This can’t be what I think it is!”

“A Galaxy Z 4?” Chin-Mae drawled.

“No, no, no!” Binna waved him off, “I mean well, yes. But look at the colors; that’s the Army Edition! I thought it was just a rumor.” The phone was a sleek chrome gray on one side and white on the other, but otherwise appeared identical to the other Galaxy Z’s Suk-kyu had shown them.

“It is, as far as everyone else knows.” Suk-kyu winked. “There are seven colors available, our BTS editions. The Army edition is the rumored eighth color, very exclusively available right now. Won’t be on the market for a while. So what do you say? Would you like this one?”

“Say yes, Y/N!” Binna shook her arm. “Say yes. Oh gosh, now I wish I needed a new phone—I’m so jealous!”

“I…” Y/N tried to concentrate as she continued to get shaken and her teeth clicked. “I don’t really think I get it. I mean it’s a rare color, right? Why not save that for a true fan who’d appreciate it more?”

Suk-kyu only smiled, a twinkle in his eyes. “I think the person who’d appreciate this phone the most is already standing in front of me.”

And so, somewhat reluctantly, Y/N had taken the phone. The ultra-rare Army Edition that Binna told her fans would kill for. “I don’t know why I even let that kooky salesman talk me into buying it. If it’s as big a commodity as you say it is, I could get robbed for having it.”

It wasn’t unheard of. Being a business major, Y/N had heard many times about what happened when hot items were in short supply and high demand.

People did desperate things to own rarities. She remembered a case that happened not far from her when she lived in America, someone being attacked and stabbed over a pair of limited edition shoes.

“No way,” Binna said, though there was a touch of concern in her eyes. “You’ll probably get lots of compliments—oh!”

“Binna!” They spotted a group of three girls waving at her friend, other pre-med students that Binna liked to study with. “Yo, you ready for that presentation?”

“Totally!” She fist pumped. “I’m fueled up and ready to go.”

“Oh, hello Y/N-ssi,” Binna’s unnie greeted politely. Choi Ji-Hye was like the calm, reliable upperclassmen in a drama, so Y/N totally understood why Binna looked up to her so much.

Ji-Hye was also rumored to be from a very affluent family. Not that it was surprising. Plenty of students attending one of the country’s top schools came from wealth.

But Ji-Hye had the looks, background and demeanor that one would associate with the traditional heiress.

Today, she was wearing a maroon sweater vest— something that her friend looked ready to swoon over when she noticed—and pressed short sleeved blouse paired with slacks similar to Y/N’s own.

Her auburn red hair was pin straight as usual, her bangs cut at a very precise length that didn’t hide her lovely arched eyebrows. When she smiled a little, everyone saw the deep dimple in her right cheek.

“Good morning, sunbaenim.” Y/N returned.

“You could call me unnie, too, if you wanted.” Ji-Hye said, and some of the stiffness in the air dropped. While Ji-Hye was always friendly towards her, she got the sense that Binna’s other pre-med friends didn’t care for her much.

Not that she would bring it up to her bubbly friend, who enjoyed seeing all her associates get along and thought strangers were just friends you hadn’t met. Oh, to be that naive.

“I can drop the honorific from sunbae,” Y/N bargained as a compromise.

“Deal,” Ji-Hye agreed, “We’re all going to our first lecture, but you should join us for lunch.” Ah yes, Ji-Hye was a TA in Binna’s first class.

“That would be lovely,” Y/N discreetly glanced at the two antsy med students behind Ji-Hye, likely hoping she would say no. “But it may have to be some other day. I have some assignments to catch up on that may cut into my lunch hour. I wouldn’t want you waiting for me,”

She ignored Binna’s very skeptical expression as Ji-Hye nodded in understanding. “That’s unfortunate. I do hope you take breaks as needed. Binna’s always speaking highly of your diligence, but overworking is a fast track to illness.”

“I understand, sunbae.” She bowed. “Good luck on your presentation today, Bin.”

“See you later, Y/N!” Binna waved, being tugged along by one of the other girls.

Y/N expelled the breath she’d been holding as they left, though she could hear one of the girls, Ha-Eun, whispering loudly. “Is she always stiff and intense like that?”

“Y/N’s really great. You just don’t know her,” Binna immediately defended.

Y/N felt warm inside over her loyalty.

“And whose fault is that?” The other girl giggled. Y/N thought her name might have been Iseul or something, which she only remembered because Binna had gushed about her also being an Army. “She seems to like you, but from what I see, keeps to herself. I bet she turned down unnie’s invitation for no reason.”

Before Binna could voice a retort, Ji-Hye’s calm voice cut in. “That’s uncharitable to assume the worst of others, Iseul. I’m sure Y/N has her reasons.”

They got too far to hear the rest of the conversation after that, not that Y/N was really interested in overhearing more. She was very aware that people had a lot of preconceived notions about her.

It was one of the many things she had learned to tune out upon returning to Korea at the end of high school. People had assumed she was a foreigner and treated her accordingly, whispering this speculation or that.

It was true her father had been American, and she’d inherited his complexion and hair texture, which brought its own set of… problems at times.

Still, Y/N had decided to come back to Korea and go to the college she had always told her mother she wanted to attend, her alma mater.

She wanted to reconnect with her Korean heritage too. She just never thought about how different it would all be when she was seeing through a lens that was no longer that of an oblivious child.

Regardless, it was her day off, and flaky attitudes be damned, Y/N wasn’t about to let that get her down. She was going to be productive and enjoy herself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was the worst possible time to be in proximity to someone else’s clumsiness.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Kang Myeong looked very close to falling to his knees as he whimpered in the face of the fire in Y/N’s eyes.

She stared at the ugly blot of ssamjang on her blazer, nose crinkled. This was going to be the end of her. Her colleague’s one act of clumsiness was going to sink her career before it started.

The president and CEO of LG Electronics, one of the largest companies in the country, would be walking in any minute.

It was the perfect opportunity for networking, the only real reason she had agreed to attend her internship’s party in honor of its hard-working students—Binna, Min Su and Chin-Mae may have also begged her to attend and actually mingle like a normal person.

Always able to sniff out a problem from a mile away, her internship supervisor hurried over, his eyes wide behind his spectacles. “Oh, what happened there?” He frowned.

“It was my fault,” Myeong confessed instantly. “Y/N, I…I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were right there when I turned around.”

Her greedy coworker had made a beeline for the refreshments and she just so happened to be standing near it, talking to one of her other internship colleagues when disaster struck.

“We’ve been over that.” She grumbled, not in a forgiving mood at present. She didn’t even attempt to wipe it out. If she did, that would undoubtedly make it worse.

Mr. Hong pulled something out of his pocket, a key. He held it out on the tip of his finger and Y/N watched the small silver key swing back and forth as he spoke. “Here, use this and go to the presidential bathroom down the hall. Try to get it out before Mr. Koo arrives.”

Nodding in thanks, Y/N wasted no time, ignoring Myeong as he continued to grovel. She had a mission and it was saving her future career! No one was going to take her seriously with a sauce stain on her front.

Mr. Koo would take one look and write her off as a joke. And if one of the most powerful businessmen in the country thought that way, no one else was going to take a chance on her.

It was rare, hadn’t happened in years, actually. But by the time she had fumbled with the key and charged into the extremely elegant bathroom, her throat felt cottony and her head was spinning. Y/N staggered over to the sink, seeing double as she looked into the mirror.

No one knew about her panic attacks. Not her aunt and uncle, and not Binna and Chin-Mae. She forced them down, as much as she was able. Hiding behind the projection of control she wanted others to see until she believed it herself.

Yes, yes she had everything under control. Her hands shook as she fought to turn on the sink, only to realize it was motion activated. Shoving her hands beneath the faucet, it lit up and came to life.

Y/N took the time to dab her eyes, wet a paper towel and press it firmly to her thudding pulse before she even tackled the sauce on her jacket.

Her teeth sank hard into her bottom lip, before she thought about how poorly it would be taken if she walked back into the party with a bloody lip—or worse, had to reapply her lipstick and get the stain off her teeth.

That caused her to let her lip go, blinking rapidly and wiping small, frustrated tears from her eyes. “L/N Y/N,” she breathed, staring herself down hard in the mirror. “You will be fine. Because you always are. Get back out there and blow them away.”

Gasping, she reached for her phone to check the time. How much time did she have before Mr.Koo arrived?! What if he was already in there? Pushing the device back into her blazer again, Y/N went to check her face in the mirror one last time.

Instead of slightly puffy eyes or a determined grimace, what she saw had her jaw dropping. Was that…was that another room?!

Whipping her head around, Y/N surveyed the lavish bathroom behind her, and didn’t see anything remotely identical to what was in the mirror. Whoa. She rubbed her eyes harshly.

Whoa.

It had been about a week since that time she had hallucinated a man’s face in place of her own while brushing her teeth. Since then, she had chalked it up to not enough sleep and tightly wound nerves from all the deadlines she was trying to meet.

This was probably the same thing. She was in a highly stressful situation, and she was seeing things. Although, it was a little concerning that no matter how many times she dabbed at her eyes and blinked, the scene didn’t change.

Frustrated, Y/N stepped back, squinted, then moved closer again. Against her better judgement, she leaned further into the mirror, intending to skim the glass with her fingertip, to prove to herself she was just a little tired.

Until she was overcome by the strongest sensation of vertigo she had ever felt, head falling forward as if it was full of lead. When it cleared, and she felt able to pick her head up, the practical, ever logical thinking Y/N was unprepared for what she saw.

Everywhere, absolutely everywhere, was a vast, rippling room of nothing. It was like being trapped inside a drop of mercury, another impossibility. Y/N waved a hand in front of her face, and a cool, liquid sensation passed through her fingers, although nothing was on them.

“Hello?” She called, trying not to grow frantic. “Where the hell is this?” She took a tentative step, finding it was a bit difficult to move forward but not impossible. “Uh…what did I eat in the last twenty four hours?”

Was it an allergic reaction? Yeah right. She quickly dismissed the notion on account of very few allergic reactions she could think of causing hallucinogenic effects.

Her straining ears caught sound to her right, and she moved forward, calling out again. Still no response, but the sound got a little bit clearer.

It probably wasn’t the day to be wearing pumps, but damnit, it’s not like she counted on this to happen. Whatever was happening…

Y/N stopped, but not for lack of trying to move forward, but because there was…an invisible wall there. A clear one, in which she could now see the same room as before.

An empty dance studio. The strains of sound she’d picked up had been music. Classical music, more precisely. That was all she really had time to discern before the door opened, someone walking in.

A lone person, a young man maybe slightly older than her. He shut the door behind him and set down his bag. She watched him look around, brow furrowing as he stopped to listen to the music playing.

Tchaikovsky’s The Sleeping Beauty had just begun, a popular song at ballet recitals. He seemed confused to hear it, making Y/N wonder if he wasn’t a ballet dancer at all. There was also something about him she almost wanted to say was familiar, but she couldn’t place what.

Looking around at both sides of the room as though his reflection would rat him out, the young man slowly began to fall into a few experimental steps, growing more charged and confident as the song continued.

Y/N watched, stunned. Forgetting all about what had been going on before, how she had come to even be here, she remained hidden and spellbound, the handsome man’s fluid control of his body and contemporary dance moves putting her soul at ease.

It was like each step he took, each twirl and leap smoothed down the frayed edges inside that had caused her anxiety to begin creeping in. She watched in rapt attention as he commanded the space with her, his only audience.

At one point, his dancing brought him closer to Y/N’s side of the mirror. He didn’t seem to notice anything amiss at all, didn’t seem to feel her presence there.

His shiny hair caught the light when he spun, and not for the first time, Y/N had the tugging knowledge just out of reach.

She knew him from somewhere… Pressing ever closer against the surface, she was able to see every line of his solid physique, the hours of work he had put into training his body evident.

The song had reached its crescendo, and he was still going strong, hardly even sweating. Y/N was awed, face pressed to the cool, invisible glass in an undignified manner—lipstick stains be damned.

Perhaps because she had suspended her disbelief so much already, she was not expecting reality to very literally come crashing back in. Y/N let out an abrupt scream when the barrier suddenly gave way, and she found herself falling right through, toppling into him.

He hardly had time to turn before they were crashing together, and then laying in a heap on the floor. There was a very concerning crack as his head met the unforgiving wood.

Temporarily putting aside her bemusement and astonishment, Y/N swallowed down the horrified yelp in her throat. The man who had been practicing such a graceful technique just a minute ago was sprawled underneath her, having taken the brunt of the fall.

His eyes were squinted and unfocused, and Y/N’s heart accelerated at the thought of how hard he must have hit his head.

Quickly jumping back, her stockings catching on the polished wood floors at the friction, she inspected him, phone gripped tightly and uselessly in her sweating palm. It only vaguely dawned on her that she had never let it go.

Now, Y/N let it tumble to the floor with a clatter, far past caring if that did any damage. Maybe that was for the best…it went against absolutely every logical thought she had as an aspiring businesswoman but there was something to be said about correlation and causation.

When she had briefly hallucinated in the bathroom that night, and during…whatever was happening now, she had the phone nearby. Both times. Was that…really a coincidence?

She had scoffed over the conspiracy theorists online every time a new 5G phone model was released that would proclaim they could control thoughts and cause illnesses. But what if this was a psychotic break?

The dropped device buzzed an inch or two across the floor, Y/N seeing a message from Binna. Oh yeah…Binna.

Her dear friend and roommate had been texting her a lot lately. According to her, if she was going to posssess an Army phone, she might as well actually become an Army.

Not that Y/N had taken that seriously, or had much time to actually look at what Binna had been sending. Her nerves were far too thin in the days leading up to the party.

It was the opportunity of a lifetime, and all her time not spent working on school assignments was spent tirelessly rehearsing what she would say to Mr.Koo if she got the chance to talk to him.

For the first time in a while, Y/N actually read Binna’s messages.

—Okay last one! I know you said no more but I couldn’t resist and he just looks so good here!

The picture popped up without warning, a beautiful man with blood red hair, propped up on his side in a white, nearly translucent button-up.

There was a sliver of skin visible between the bottom and the waistline of his pants, and he looked at the camera with a startling smolder, accentuated by the coy half-smile on his full red lips and the immaculately applied eyeliner he was wearing.

Y/N’s throat went dry, life flashing before her eyes as she whipped her head back down to the person still lying unnaturally still on the floor. It was…it was the same guy!

The hair color was different—a moonlight silver now—and he was in a plain t-shirt and some loose joggers, but it was undoubtedly the same man Binna wanted her to swoon over.

That meant one thing.

“BTS…” Y/N whispered under her breath. Suddenly he looked frighteningly familiar. The model looks, the style in those practiced dance moves. How couldn’t she see it earlier?

Yeah this was definitely one of Binna’s BTS boys, who beamed down at them from the poster in their dorm room. Forgetting her phone, Y/N clambered closer, wondering if she should check for a pulse, but also afraid to touch him in case it brought him further harm.

“Please…” she licked her bottom lip, “Do me a favor…Jimin.” Thanks to all of Binna’s gushing and coaching she was fairly certain that was his name. “Don’t be dead, or seriously injured. Don’t be anything that could get the book thrown at me in a court of law.”

Assaulting an idol. And not just any idol, but one of the ones that belonged to a group that was practically the nation’s national treasure. Her career would be flushed. Oh, and the rabid fans out for her blood would never let her know peace.

“Hyung…?” He muttered, and Y/N pushed down any indignation that cropped up at the thought of being mistaken for someone’s hyung.

“Okay, you’re talking. Good.” she sighed. “I mean not good, but…not bad. Damnit, I should call emergency services. For all I know you could be concussed.”

Jimin blinked drowsily at her. Shit, how hard did she make him hit his head? Shit, shit! “It’s not the worst hallucination in the world. At least I’m imagining someone pretty.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped, she stammered for a response and came up short. Was he…flirting?! At a time like this? His head might be broken and she might be on her way to ten years behind bars and he was flirting?!

The flustered college student could feel her cheeks redden, irritation flaring up inside. If he wasn’t already hurt she might just be tempted to ignore the difference in their statuses and smack him upside the head.

“You—”

Y/N stilled, hearing broken pieces of conversation from just outside the door. No, no, no! Witnesses to her crime! They were going to take one look at the downed dancer and assume the worst.

Either that she had attacked him or that she was there for…a creepier reason. Binna had told her about sasaeng attacks being a serious problem for popular idols. No one was going to believe she didn’t know how she’d gotten there.

Although Jimin was probably going to be fine, now that people who could help him had arrived, Y/N did feel guilty just leaving him there. It was her fault, sort of.

She had precious seconds, and every racing tick of her heart knew it. Whoever was coming into the studio were chatting outside the door, but who knew how long that’d last.

Her uncle and aunt had always praised her for being quick on her feet, and this was the worst time to prove them wrong. ‘This is crazy,’ Y/N’s spinning head protested. ‘I fell through a mirror into an idol’s dance studio and now I might be going to jail, unless—’

She hesitated only slightly, figuring the impossible had proved possible so far. The crazy could continue until she woke up from this mental breakdown she was having, and then she would start searching for the nearest qualified therapist to examine her. At best, she was right, and at worst she was about to be carted off to the hospital, then jail.

Sucking in and holding a deep breath, Y/N charged at the mirrored wall as fast as sensible pumps would allow, fully prepared for the pain of smacking into it face first.

There was a startled moment of realization, and then deep relief when she tumbled through the glass, which rippled coolly like she was breaking the surface of a quiet lake.

Y/N turned, silently witnessing the studio door open at that moment, revealing another young man in sweats. He had short, bouncy russet brown hair, his bangs parting in the middle.

He spoke to whoever was standing out in the hall one more time, something about some changes to a choreography routine they were trying out. The door closed, and Y/N watched his eyes fall to the floor, noticing Jimin for the first time.

“Jimin?” He called, sprinting over and sinking to his knees at the answering groan. “What’s wrong? What happened?” Y/N knew she should bolt while she could, guilt a tight ball in her chest. But she only stood there in Mirror Land as the other man tried to get Jimin to tell him what was wrong.

‘I fell out of the mirror and plowed him over.’ she thought, wincing.

“Hobi-hyung, I’m okay. I just tripped…” he said softly. What a beautiful speaking voice, Y/N mused. It was easy on the ears, even when it sounded strained.

Hobi…Hobi…Binna had said that was someone’s nickname. If he was Hobi then that must have meant his stage name was J-Hope. ‘Er, what’s his real name again? …Hyun…Hoseok?’

Whipping out a phone, his hyung frowned a little. “Hard enough to hurt yourself? Can you get up?” Jimin began righting himself, albeit slowly, and Hoseok assisted, arm bracing him around the shoulders. “I’m going to tell the staff you’re injured and need to be examined.”

“But—”

“Nope,” Hobi shook his head, phone to his ear now. “There’s no point practicing choreo if you’re not at your best anyway.” He turned his attention to speaking to whoever had picked up his call, explaining that they had an accident in the studio. “Yeah, he’s awake, but pretty dazed.”

There was a pause, and J-Hope tilted his head, staring at Jimin thoughtfully. “Did you hit your head?”

“Mm…”

“It looks like it.” Hoseok relayed, and Y/N bit her lip, anxiety picking back up. ‘How am I supposed to tell Binna I met one of her favorite idols and broke him?’

Jimin was sitting up on his own now, hands on the floor and legs crossed. Hoseok removed his arm from his friend’s shoulder and began to gently massage his head.

“Hyung,” Jimin whined, leaning away from the touch. “Careful, it’s tender.”

“You’ve got a bump the size of a baseball.” The older male informed him matter-of-factly. “I’d be surprised if it wasn’t.”

“What happened to the girl?” Jimin asked abruptly.

Y/N felt her hands start to tremble. Why was she even still hanging around? This was her opportunity!

Oh yeah, because she wanted to be sure the young man whose head had gotten bonked would be okay. Damn guilt.

“Girl?” Hoseok gave him a scrutinizing look, not at all like the wide, energetic smile he wore in Binna’s poster. “Jiminie…what girl?”

The silver-haired idol shrugged helplessly. “The one who knocked me down. I think…”

“Somebody knocked you down?” Hoseok asked sharply. “Was it a staffer?”

“I don’t know. It happened so fast. She wasn’t familiar...”

“Okay,” The older idol said slowly. “After we make sure you’re okay we’ll get security to check the cameras.”

The cameras?! Shit, so she wasn’t safe after all! Oblivious to her rising woe, Hoseok continued, “Well, I think you’re probably concussed, so no practice for you.”

His eyes drifted away from Jimin for the first time since entering the room, and that split second was all it took for their gazes to lock.

Y/N let out a wordless yell, flailing back. The sound of running water filled her ears, and she picked her head up to find her own reflection.

She was clutching the edge of the same modern sink she was admiring before, standing in the same private bathroom. Laying innocently near the right handle was her phone.

#bts fanfic #call me crazy #ot7 bangtan #ot7xreader #yoongixreader #namjoon x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #seokjin x reader #poc!reader #bts x reader #poly!bts x reader

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