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mygloviesme · 6 months

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cool about it, eleven years later. || myg || story finale

no. 3 out of 3: i can’t hide from you like i hide from myself

predebut/debut!yoongi x female idol

summary: eleven years later, kanako lives in nyc with her childhood best friend keiko. bts have become a household name that floods her every day life, and she's learned to ignore it. after years of moving on from those months she spent with the seven boys, she finds herself in a good place. what happens after one fateful night she finally runs into faces she's tried so hard to run away from?

(definitely inspired by boygenius)

word count: 10.5k (yup)

genre: ANGST, fluff, melodrama

chapter warnings: mentions of mental health, drinking (casual wine sipping), mentions of toxic ex, smut (missionary, oral f. receiving, dirty talk, praise? idk)

if you see any edit mistakes, no you don’t. it’s 5 am and I’m too eager to release this!

inspo song: xo by beyonce

"your face is all that i see, i give you everything"

JULY 10TH, 2023, 9:46PM

It feels silly, us all being so much older and sleeping over in Jungkook’s hotel room. Although, it is a huge hotel room. Anyway, it feels like we're too old for sleepovers like this. Even Yoongi, who stayed quiet most of the car ride, groaned in annoyance. Shouting, ‘Why did I spend so much money on a nice hotel if I was just gonna sleep on a couch?’

But Jungkook insisted and so did a still-tipsy Jimin. Namjoon was pretty neutral like always. I think he’s secretly excited though. I’m not sure if I can say the same for Yoongi. I couldn’t stop glancing at him during the car ride, examining his quick-witted retorts to Namjoon like I remembered. We’d swap eye-contact every once in a while, though fleeting, sending shock waves down to my core every time. But, the dust (my non-stop adrenaline) luckily settled once we arrived at the luxurious building.

As we entered the room, an eager Jungkook races to his room, shuffling around to only come out with a set of clothes. And for a second, a brief moment, I swear he shrinks a couple inches. Like he’s as small as he was then. It’s not like I miss that version of him more because I can still feel he’s that boy in instances like these. But it’s nostalgic. “Here.” He says, handing me the stack.

The sweats are soft and gray and the shirt I can smell even from here. Like laundry detergent, the one with the teddy bear on it. They feel undoubtedly expensive.

“O-Okay, I’m just gonna change in the bathroom.” I say, Jungkook nodding and pointing to the direction it’s in. I follow his finger and approach the tall door, turning the handle to enter inside. It gives me time to call Keiko and gather my thoughts. It’s been a long night filled with all sorts of things I have to sit and think about before I get back out and deal with it again.

Maybe not the yelling and shouting that occurred, but the thick awkwardness of the fact that we’re still getting used to each other. Eleven years is too long and two days is too short to recount everything we missed from each other's lives. The clock is ticking and I’m not sure how to slow down time.

I place the clothes on the counter and reach inside my purse for my phone, opening my contacts to dial Keiko. Quickly. She picks up instantly like always. She’s great at that.

“Hey Koko, how’s everything going? Do you need a ride?”

I gulp, “N-No, I’m actually staying at their hotel tonight.”

I hear her freeze, “WHAT? You’re kidding!”

“No, I’m not!” I whisper and cover my mouth to muffle my voice as much as I can. It would be another problem if they heard me gossiping about tonight. But I have to debrief with her, it’s what we do.

“What do you mean by their hotel?”

“Well it’s Jungkook’s, but everyone agreed to have a sleepover.”

“What the fuck. I wish I was there! Hook me up, dear god.” She whines.

I laugh loudly, slapping my hand over my mouth when I realize the echoing it caused.

“Shut up. Maybe. But anyway, I’ll be here.”

“So what’s gonna happen? You gonna snuggle up to Yoongi or what?” She says and I hear her eating on something. Probably the rocky-road she claimed to hate. Liar.

“No, I’m not. Definitely not. We got into it tonight. Bad.”

She gasps, “Tell me.”

I exhale softly, “It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later. But everything’s fine now. We made up.”

“You made up, really?” She says with doubt. Don’t sound so surprised, jeez.

“Sort of. But there is one thing I wanted to tell you. Jimin got drunk and before me and Yoongi had…argued or whatever, he said ‘Yoongi isn’t the only one hung up on you.’ Talking about Jungkook. Isn’t that…crazy? What do you think it means?”

She sighs, “You know what it means, Koko. What did you expect from the boy? You guys cuddled like, every night.”

“He told me he considered me to be a sister!” I whisper-shout into the phone.

“I mean at first, yeah. But a hot girl coming to stay with seven boys every night? Come on.”

My face falls flat, my voice monotone. “I wish you’d keep some thoughts to yourself.”

“Anyway, that sounds complicated. But you’re a new Koko, new and improved. You can deal with this, I know you can. And if you wanna bail just call me up and I’ll come get you. I’ll be up for a while.” She reassures me.

I smile, “Thanks, Keiko. Love you. I’ll see you later.”

I hang up the phone and set it down, placing my head on the counter to take a deep breath. My forehead sits on the cold marble as I try to ground myself, calm myself. I don’t want the events of tonight to tamper with me. I want to enjoy this.

It hurts to think that they’ll be leaving in a day. That this night and tomorrow will be transient, because I miss them. I miss them like hell. I miss their laughs, their arguing. Their warm company that never fails to aid my stubborn, sad heart. As I lift my head to look at myself in the mirror, I witness the time that’s passed. The unmistakable creases on my face that have evolved as I got older. I wish they were here to see them as they came to fruition. I wish they could’ve seen and witnessed all my milestones. How did time pass by so quickly? I could’ve gotten so many more moments with them if I hadn’t left.

So many birthdays, holidays, everything. It’s not guilt that I feel, not even mourning. It's aching for all the time that I lost with them. They’ve always been my chosen family. And with Yoongi, even now I hurt when I think of everything that could’ve happened between us. Even if we stayed friends. Even if we stayed friends.

I take a break from my feelings and put on the clothes Jungkook gave me in a hurry. I know I’ve spent an absurd amount of time in this bathroom, but I still hear them from behind this door. So I know they can’t be settling for bed already.

Tonight calls for a later bedtime. Although, I do have work tomorrow.

JULY 11TH, 2023, 1:34AM

We’ve shared a bottle of wine or two throughout this night. Chatting about my own stories this time. All the things I’ve gotten into while living in this big city. Some stories I keep for myself, unsure of whether they’re appropriate for this late-night banter. Like the time in my work bathroom with a colleague of mine. That’s definitely unimportant.

It isn’t long until Namjoon and Jungkook are calling it a night, surprisingly. I look at Yoongi who isn’t saying anything at all. Is he not going to bed? Should I say I’m calling it a night too just to avoid being alone with him?

I’ve wanted to talk with him ever since I saw him that night, but right now it scares me shitless.

“Kanako, you coming?” Jungkook asks me while carrying wine glasses to the sink. I revert from looking at Yoongi for reassurance, allowance, to stay back with him. I go with my gut.

“N-No, I think I’ll stick around for a while longer.” Jungkook darts his eyes from me to Yoongi, sucking in his teeth. Is he upset?

“Well you can sleep in my bed. The three of us are taking the floor. It’s a big room, so. You know. Hope that’s okay.” His voice drips with irritation. He’s obviously discontent with me staying with Yoongi. I’ll take care of that later.

“That’s okay with me.” I smile weakly.

He doesn’t necessarily listen to my response, instead turning his back to walk to the room. Namjoon and a sleepy Jimin bidding a good night before following suit.

I watch them leave, counting down the seconds until they’re out of sight. It’s easier if I act like I’m distracted by them instead of talking to Yoongi.

I grab the second bottle of wine that’s been opened by Jungkook earlier tonight, pouring myself another glass. Keeping busy. Still avoiding. I feel his eyes on me, though. I think he’s wondering if I’ll say something first. But to my surprise, he speaks.

His isolated voice sends chills down to my abdomen, echoing in this sleek lounge space. His voice has always been low, smooth. Perfect to listen to as you’re falling asleep. I remember that so vividly. Him whispering to me as we both drifted off to sleep, kissing my sleepy face. His affection was constant. I remember the relentless hands all over my body when he got the chance. Shit, what did he say?

I widen my eyes, “S-Sorry. What was that?”

He laughs and takes a sip of the dark red liquid, talking in the glass.

“So you and Keiko get along well?” He repeats.

I bob my head from side-to-side, “Something like that. I’m kidding. Yes. We got along great, she’s like my sister.” There’s a loud nervousness in me that he’s not reciprocating. His words are confident, curious. I’m not used to this. Is it bad that I’m so anxious around him? Those almond eyes look ethereal beside the glow of the city lights. He’s beautiful. I wish I could take a photo of him right now.

“That’s great.” He responds casually.

Silence.

I drink from my wine again, “Mmm- I listened to your solo album. It’s amazing.” I say, acting like the thought just came to mind.

He nods, “Thanks. It took a while to make but I’m happy with the outcome. And tour was good too.”

“Right! Tour! I saw photos.” I wince at how well I’ve been keeping up with all of their extracurriculars.

His eyes never break eye contact with me as he speaks, “What’d you think?”

I chortle nervously, “It looked really cool and thought-out. I think all of your songs are great.”

“All of them?”

Shit. The elephant in the room has stomped its way through the door.

“Y-Yeah. All of them.” I whisper, fiddling with the stem of my wine glass.

I want to ask, how many other songs are about me? And have you written as much about Aimee? But I’m too old to be spiteful. It’s making me gray faster.

His veiny fingers push through his long hair, falling perfectly back into place as he sets his hand down on the kitchen counter. It suits him so well. He looks so sophisticated, and it’s still so surreal that I’m in front of him once again. Just like an inevitability, like death (morbid, I know) I had weirdly accepted that I would never see them, him, ever again. Was that selfish of me?

The reechoing of stillness makes my mind wander towards the city that never sleeps. It’s especially louder tonight during the absence of either of our voices.

I hear the honking and bustling of city life, something that never gets old. I loved it when I first got here. It filled in the gaps of silence so I wouldn’t be forced to think so much when I was sleeping at night. When I’d be crying myself out of tears because of the long-haired man sitting beside me. I would think about the young kids, whose night was just starting. The people closing up shop, the babies being put to bed. It was easier to live outside of myself here. You can’t help but love everything around you. Even the sweaty summer and nasty rain and the smell of garbage that never leaves certain streets. It’s become my new home. Nothing like Korea or Japan. Maybe that’s the point.

As I sit next to Yoongi, someone who reminds me of the past loneliness I used to feel, it scares me again. I’m not sure if him turning out to be a complete stranger, or the same Yoongi I used to know, is better. It’s nice to know that after all this time he can still look at me like an equal. Like I didn’t abandon him. But do I want him to have completely forgotten about the girl I used to be? I did not prepare for this in therapy.

“I wish I had invited you to visit me.” I confess, staring off into the glass window behind him.

He looks at me softly, “I wish you did too. But I’m here now. We’re here now. It’s okay.” He says, and I have a feeling he’s talking about us two instead of all five. It’s consoling. And there it is again, that x-ray vision he has into my thoughts. Or am I being ridiculous once more?

“Is it?” My overthinking takes over. It was eleven years ago, yes. But it was hard, it was breaking. How could I not apologize, or even ask how I can make up for it? I have so much to say, but I await his answer instead.

He shifts, “It is. I’m sorry for…what I said at dinner. It was impulsive and not thought out. I should’ve known not to say that.”

My expression grows dejected. I feel like I should be the one apologizing, so I do.

“Don’t be sorry. At all. I mean– it had to come up either way. I know what I did must’ve affected you all. It affected me a lot. So, I’m sorry. For not reaching out, for leaving everything unsaid.”

His lips curl into a weak smile, “We were all young. We didn’t know the full extent of what you were going through, Kanako. All is forgiven, I promise. I’m just happy to be talking with you now.”

I nod slowly, partially accepting his forgiveness and willingness to move on. It’s hard to believe that’s all there is to it, but I want to believe him. I’m not going to blame myself for the feelings I had because of my failing career and abusive relationship, but I can feel guilt for not talking to them even after the healing. That’s what I thought was best for myself at the time, what would help me move on better.

And maybe it did in some ways, but I now know it just feels good, as well as other things, to be under the same roof as Yoongi again.

And between the beat of silence I get the confidence to ask, “So you and Aimee?”

He throws his head back with an amused smile, “Ah- no. I just ran into her that night and we kind of- kissed. Or something. But she’s way too young for me.”

I’m glad he feels comfortable enough to tell me, but it still stings just a little bit. But they’re not even together. All this overthinking only gave me more stress. Old habits die hard, I guess.

“I see. So you’re…”

“Single? You’re quite nosy, Kanako.”

With a slip of the tongue I say, “I love it when you say my name.” But yet, nothing about it is sensual. It’s like I’m dancing around a thought neither of us want to fully think about. There’s a line.

His gaze becomes gentler, “I know.”

God, he knows?

He grins at me before grabbing the bottle of wine to top off my glass, saying nothing. How could he just say that? It’s impossible to read him right now, which is something I would’ve never expected. If it was eleven years back, that is.

“I’m single.” He responds and sits back comfortably in his chair.

His words sound premeditated, like he knew I would ask. And he would answer. It seems the both of us are being a bit self-indulgent with our questions tonight. But the way he talks to me is seemingly affectionate. He’s no longer carrying me like water in his hands. I’m the glass he’s drinking in.

I still feel inexperienced, something he obviously isn’t anymore. I can’t leech onto anything to make me feel more at ease, not even his presence that radiates heat.

“And you? Were you being honest at dinner or do you have a secret boyfriend?” He teases.

“I’m not sure why I’d keep it a secret.” I laugh, “But no, no one. Just me and Keiko.”

He hums and peers around the room. “Like Jimin said, has there ever been…someone?”

I hesitate for a moment. “I was being painfully honest about that too. I’ve seen guys, I guess. But this city feels so small sometimes I think I’ve run out of options.” I inch my gaze towards him like I’m afraid to know the next answer, “You?” I ask.

“Sort of, yeah. One. I was twenty five and it was only for a year. I just got too busy and she got impatient with me, so we thought to just end it.”

“Was it hard?” I whisper.

“Yeah it was.” He chuckles and scratches the back of his with nervousness, “I loved her but…life just gets in the way. It’s annoying. I’m over it though.”

It feels so odd to talk to him about this. Would you call it exes bonding over exes? Or lack thereof on my part. But I’m glad he’s been loved. That he found that. It’s comforting to know about him, even if I wasn’t there. It hurts, but I’m putting maturity above my feelings.

“So-”

“I wanted to-”

We speak at the same time, sharing casual laughter soon after. I let him go first.

He puffs out, “Uh, I just– wanted to say that…I hope you didn’t feel offended. After I released those songs.” He says repentantly.

“Oh,” I tense up, “Not at all. Not at all. If you felt so musically inclined-”

“Shut up.”

“If you felt so musically inclined to, then I can’t blame you for it, right?”

He titters slightly, swiveling his drink. I can tell he’s relieved by the way his smize stays on his face, but there’s a disinclination to him as the seconds turn into minutes.

He taps his glass, “I meant every word, Kanako.” He says quietly.

There’s no need for repetition, I digest what he said like I’ve been starving for days.

I hang onto every word for what feels like hours, mouth slightly open before I can figure out what I’m going to say. I enjoy seeing him like this, honest. Vulnerable. I want to savor it. It’s sparking something inside of me that I thought had been shriveled into nothing.

“I know, Yoongi.” I make it sound like it’s about to end. This, all of this. Like the feelings we had, or have, are only being brought up in passing. But there’s nothing about this that I’m ready to finalize. I now know, ever since that time I left, that his love for me ran like the ocean. I was the combining waves to his body of water. It’s still there. Am I getting ahead of myself?

As we settle into each other's energy at this moment, it’s a shared realization that there is no fire we have to combat anymore. It’s a mutual source we both want to indulge in. Calm. It would be a lie if I said it wasn’t a stormier, thrashing feeling than I’d planned.

But it’s all the same.

His hand lingers face down on the wrap-around kitchen counter, begging for touch. I keep mine on my glass, not giving in just yet. It could either turn out to be embarrassing or something else I need to procrastinate from dealing with.

“Any other songs I should know about?” I joke.

His expression is stoic, “Most of them.”

My heart skips a couple beats. If I didn’t know any better I’d think I was going into cardiac arrest. With his body language it seems like he’s being completely serious. Completely, utterly serious.

He keeps his gaze on his hand, chuckling to himself.

“What?” I share his amusement with a bit of confusion.

He clenches his jaw.

“I think I’ll go crazy if you don’t touch me, Kanako.”

I’m stunned by his frankness, not being able to speak. Is it now that I’m suddenly at a loss? Why is it now I have nothing to say anymore? All the worry, the thoughts, the stress course through my veins pour out of me as he looks at me. His gaze can’t be more gentle, more loving. But there’s a neediness within him that’s seeping to me. I can’t deny him of that, or myself.

“Yoongi-”

“I need– I don’t even– I’m sorry. I’m not sure why I said that.”

“You don’t?” I ask, because the answer is obvious to me. I want to touch him too. I’m letting my childlike recklessness take over. There’s not one voice in my head saying ‘no’ louder than the ones saying ‘yes’. Yes, yes, yes.

“I don’t know where to start.” He whispers.

“I don’t know either.” I respond. Because the answer to that is obvious as well. It’s painfully, unfortunately obvious. We just want each other, that’s all there is to it. Why speak when we can forget it all? Maybe even start where we left off? That could never happen.

His hand strides over to my face in what feels like a quiet but grand gesture, leaning his body slowly into mine. It’s impulsive, rushed. We both have no idea what we’re doing and what this will lead to.

“Yoongi…” I breathe as he draws his lips closer to me. They’re so shiny, and I remember that cupid's bow so well. His mouth brushes over mine and before I can take another breath, he plants onto me softly. I’m almost too afraid to touch him, knowing it’ll make it all the more real. If I let myself enjoy this moment, will it go too far?

Will I expect things from him he won’t be able to give me? Because I can’t live another eleven years without him. Now that I’m tasting him again, I’m not sure how I even lasted.

It’s slow and his tongue speaks a language that makes the minimal space between us agonizing. Closer, wetter, sensual. It’s what I crave most as his mouth moves with mine in a deep rhythm. I feel the vibration of a low hum coming from this throat, causing me to release the tiniest moan only he could hear. His fingers are relentless with caresses to my jaw, neck, anywhere.

I keep my hands in his hair, diving into the soft strands that were once mine. I follow the natural growth and end up at his neck, tousling with the hair that almost reaches his shoulders. It was never this long, never this thick. Everything about him is pillowy and soft, so easy to get lost in. He’s eating me whole, and I let him.

But, there’s a familiar stinging of discomfort when I try enveloping him fully, something that tugs at my heartstrings. Telling me that this is all too much, it’s too painful. I can taste the spotting of wine in his saliva and can only think to pull away in a sudden movement. I need to click my heels to get back into reality, I need to go home.

“Kanako-” He whispers, caught off guard by my swift action.

“This is all too–I don’t know if I can do this.” I mutter breathlessly, my head still caught up in the moment we had a second ago, the feelings that are boiling to the surface. My insides are twisting and being turned inside out. This is not how I thought any of this would go.

“Don’t do that, not now.” He asserts.

I’m choking up now, the tears that live inside of me never fail to reset whenever I’m caught. But I know exactly what he’s referring to. No need to play dumb. He knew me then and he can recognize me now. Maybe not know me, not fully, but we’re intertwined together whether we like it or not. His eyes scan me, needing an answer. Don’t run away, they say.

“I’m not trying to,” My voice shakes, looking back into his gaze again. “I just–I still, I love you.” I say, like I’ve been holding it back since last night. Because I have, every inch of my body is regurgitating those words like they were never supposed to come up.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, causing me to get up from my seat and try to collect myself. I’m thinking he doesn’t love me back, how could he when it’s been so long? I’m so stupid.

He takes a short breath, “Of course I love you too, Kanako. How could I stop? How could I have ever stopped?” He says almost angrily. He’s frustrated with my need to escape him again. I can sense it.

“It’s been too long, we’re strangers.” I respond, fighting the idea that we could ever go back.

“We need to try. I need to. I couldn’t stop writing songs about you, I couldn’t stop hoping that one day I would find you again. It was never supposed to end that way. Don’t you think so too?” He pleads, his words come out in a blurt-like manner. He’s standing with me as well, his frame still a few inches above me like it was that time ago.

“And then what– everything just turns out perfectly? We all just live like nothing ever happened?” I shake my head in visible denial.

He takes a step closer to me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “No, but we can figure it out. Slowly, but it can happen. Unless you don’t want it to. I can respect that, Kanako. We don’t have to be romantic. Just don’t leave. Pick up my calls, write to me, visit. Anything. Just come back to me.” He whispers. He’s stripped any wall down that stood there previously. We’re now eye-to-eye, lips closening once again.

He’s magnetic. He’s my home. I’ve tried clicking my heels but I always end up back here, with him. Even if it was just in my dreams. But now he’s real, and how could I ever reject something that makes me feel this good? This loved?

And as he pulls me in once more, to kiss me once more, he says, “Let me in.”

So I’m now his, completely. I don’t feel spun around or twisted into nothing, I feel like his lips are the warm blanket wrapping around my aching body. His mouth aids my thoughts and his fingers ease my tense shoulders. I give in to him. He’s promised himself to me and pleaded that I come back to him. So I will. This time with no hesitation.

We’re underneath the roof that hides the night sky but as he holds me to lengthen our kiss, I feel like the stars are twinkling above our heads. Like there’s constellations brushing against my neck and the moon is only inches away. I move our bodies closer to the couch, Yoongi’s back now pressed up against it.

He takes my hint and swiftly walks around the gray fixture, taking my hands so I follow him. I turn to him and push his chest softly so he lays down on the plush cushions, his eyes following every single movement I make. He has this smile he always used to have whenever it was just us. Whenever I’d be above him, tugging at my shirt like I am now.

He sits up, placing his hands over mine that were about to take off my shirt. “Can I do it?” He whispers quietly, desperation leaking off every word. I nod slowly, feeling as he begins to peel off the thin fabric. His fingers brush over my stomach, causing a chill to run down my arms. He gives me goosebumps without having to do anything.

As he has my shirt fall down on the floor, he runs his hands down my stomach slowly, curling his knuckles into the band of my skirt. He shimmies the tight material down my thighs until it pools around my ankles, leaving nothing to the imagination. His eyes carve out the small details of my body, my mind reeling every time he looked me up-and-down as if we were just two strangers ogling each other.

Although he’s seen me before, seen all of me, that version of me doesn’t exist anymore. I have new spots and scars and a good amount of weight that wasn’t there previously. It has me feeling a little self-conscious, hoping he isn’t disappointed. I don’t feel a need for his validation, but his reassurance.

“I don’t have my idol body anymore in case you couldn’t tell.” I joke sheepishly, dropping my head slightly to scan myself.

He pulls me in, having me straddle his now laying body. “You mean you don’t have the same body you did when you were eighteen? That’s normal and completely, totally fine with me. I want you how you are now.” He kisses my fingers individually as he speaks. I sigh into the softness of his lips as they plant on my fingertips, needing more of him.

I then jerk my hand from him playfully, a confused expression morphing on his face.

“I wanna see you now.” I say lowly.

He sets his arms above him like he’s waiting to be undressed which causes a small laugh from me. I lift his shirt off of him, crawling down his body awkwardly for his pants next. “This isn’t as sexy as I’d want it to be.” I mutter.

He chuckles, “But you look cute doing it.” He reaches over to pet my head, which I realize I liked more than I’d be able to admit.

I huff and yank the ankles of his pants to get it over with, once and for all. I let the piece of clothing fall down beside the couch and go back to where I was previously.

He hums, “As much as I like seeing you on top of me, I think we should do this properly. It is our first time, isn’t it?”

A smile extends on my face hearing him say those words, although we’re still doing it on a couch, it’s the effort that counts, right? So I abide, letting him sit up so we can trade places. I feel much younger again with the way everything is so airy. My first time with Haneul wasn’t as loving as I had once thought it was. Nothing about that relationship was loving, but it makes me happy to know that I could do this with Yoongi. As if it was a redo, after all those other men these past eleven years.

I’ve had good sex, don’t get me wrong. But never anything as intimate as this.

As Yoongi hovers over me, he leans down to press his lips against mine. We get back into what was happening earlier, desperately locking into each other. Filling any gaps of space, which resided into Yoongi sneakily sliding his knee between my thighs. There’s heat radiating off of my sensitivity, including a pooling of wetness as he grinds into me.

He looks so hot in his black boxers and I use his nearly nude body to my advantage, caressing his soft shoulders. Every part of his body is warm, it’s real. He’s real. His body has changed too. I can tell he’s been working out a little more. Which is never, ever a bad thing. I can’t get enough of him, bucking my hips into his knee further.

“I’ll give you what you want in a moment,” He teases as his lips part from mine. He kisses down my chin to my neck, licking softly on my collarbones. As his tongue lingers on my skin he lifts my back to unhook my bra almost seamlessly. It causes a gasp from me, feeling the cold air as it bites at my breasts suddenly. His fingers make circles on the sensitive area, teasing my hard nipples.

His mouth travels down my body but his hands stay on my chest until he’s reached the start of my underwear. I arch my back further when I feel his hot breath against my clothed heat, Yoongi pecking a kiss before he redirects his hands. “This okay?” He asks quietly while his hands play with each side of my panties.

“Yes, yes.” I whisper quickly. I need him so badly, his mouth, his tongue. I want him inside of me, most importantly. To know what he feels like on top of me. But I can wait, especially if that means he’ll mouth-fuck me first.

He slides down my underwear slowly, leaving me fully nude. My breath hitches when I feel his hands, quick to spread my legs. He urges me to throw a leg over the couch, so I do. This, I’m not as insecure about. Not when I’m so desperately needy.

His finger glides over the slit of my pussy, “Pretty Kanako. So wet for me. Is it? Just for me?”

I release a shaky breath from my throat, nodding slowly.

“Let me hear you, pretty. Tell me it’s just for me.”

He’s making an absolute puddle of me, literally and metaphorically. Feeling my secretion dripping down to his already drenched finger that’s barely touched me. “Just for you. All for you.” I whine.

My hips stutter against Yoongi’s curious mouth, “That’s my pretty baby,” He purrs into me. He lets his tongue sliver to my opening, flattening the center and licking me slowly.

“Oh– god,” I choke out, feeling his lips suction around my clit and tugging at it teasingly.

His mouth releases in a quiet pop– delving back into his previous motions. His tongue shamelessly digs into me, my wet mess painting his chin erotically. He hums into my pussy with devious intent, knowing the vibrations of his velvety voice would send me into a spiral.

– And it does, my hands trying to grab into anything I could to contain myself. I had to remember we were doing this with three people in the next room over, unfortunately. The only time I didn’t want those boys in the same presence as me. I try to whisper a ‘f-faster’ but all that escapes is a sigh. I think he understands because before I know it, he uses his fingers to spread me open, covered in my slick. His eyes dart to mine,

looking into me as he plants his tongue on my vulnerable clit. My brows furrow and my mouth forms a quiet whimper, feeling him burying his face into my sloppy cunt.

My cheeks are burning with a dark red, sweat forming at my forehead. The sight of his moppy hair and bare skin tugging at my thighs is enough to make me want to call it. I need to know how it’d feel to have all inches of his length in me. I remember how big he was– how much I would’ve given to have him tear me open then. And now the moment is so close, including my approaching orgasm.

His tongue is greedy– and if I didn’t know any better I’d assume this act was for himself. How much he’s sucking and licking me clean, making sure I'm trembling– he loves this.

“I c-can’t come yet– I need you..” I complain as my body says otherwise.

He lifts his head to stop, making sure to replace his tongue with his thumb to play with my clit instead. “You sure? My Kanako doesn’t want to come all over my face? Because I know how much you loved it then.” He retorts. It’s hard to wrap my mind around having a normal conversation in the midst of my shaky legs and swollen clit, so I speak, although foggily.

I place my wrist on my forehead, “I-I do, but I need you inside me. Please.” I plead breathlessly.

His thumb stops and he travels to my upper body slowly, not bothering wiping the glossy slick that’s smeared on his face. Instead he rushes for a kiss, all forms of fluids being swapped between our mouths. “My needy girl.” He taunts with a smirk on his face.

His hands travel to his boxers, taking them off swiftly. My wandering eyes still lock on his lengthy dick, seeing it bounce straight up due to how hard he’s become. There’s a familiar liquid that has the head glistening– precum. He gulps as his eyes look back to my body, hot and swollen. I’m a mess for him, I’m utterly open for him. My fingers trickle down to my saturated pussy, circling my clit to provoke him.

His fingers grip his cock, pumping slowly as he stares at me playing with myself. He’s set in stone, groaning at the scene before him.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He mutters, making gentle eye contact with me. I smile warmly as a thank you, feeling him line his cock against my opening. He pushes in enough to where the tip is fully in, moving his hands so they’re on both sides of me. I grab a handful of his hair, bringing his head into the nape of my neck as he makes his first thrust. I let out a gasp that echoes throughout the lounge room when his thrusts become two, three, until he’s created a slow rhythm to ease us both into it. Kanako, pretty pretty Kanako. I love you so much, love being inside you, he moans into my skin.

As pleasure cases him in a haze, his movements speak for him, his cock twitching with every inch he buries into me. I’ve hit the point where I’m beyond words, just spiraling into the mess he’s created of me. All that’s coming out is pitiful whimpers as my hands grip at his hair and back.

“Y-You’re tightening around my c-cock, you know that?” He moans in disbelief. He removes his head from my neck to sit up right, continuing to pump into me. They’re growing faster by the second but by his sultry eyes I can tell he wants to savor every moment of this. I take in the crevices that outline his skin. The soft muscles around his stomach and his veiny hands that are holding steady on my stomach.

He’s focused on pushing himself further into me, wanting to fill up my insides with as much of his cock as he can. He slips a hand to my ankle that’s resting over the couch, placing it on his shoulder to gain more momentum. My head brushes the arm of the couch as he fastens his pace, watching as he bites his lip. “You look so good underneath me, baby. Keep your eyes on me– wanna see how you look taking all of me,” And so I do, enjoying every single second of my view of him ramming into me like he knows nothing else.

His thumb climbs back over to my clit, rubbing it gently to induce an orgasm from me. I can only assume he’s close, seeing his mouth agape and his thrusts becoming pounds. He’s hitting that spot inside me repeatedly, the overstimulation making me forget about how quiet I’m supposed to be.

“Yoongi…yoongi…fuck-!” His name rolls off my tongue effortlessly.

“Give it to me, pretty. Cover my dick in your cum, please,” He grunts quietly, leaning his head back with elation.

His sweaty bangs hang over his reddened face as he pumps into me in-and-out like clockwork. I watch him clench his jaw, his hold on my calf becoming tighter as his body reaches closer and closer to release. My cunt tightens around him as the thumb he has pressed against my clit becomes too much to bear, tears pricking my eyes. “Yoongi, please–” I whimper loudly, digging my hands into his back.

He groans behind his teeth– snapping his hips to pump into my slick heat, our fluids conjoining together, making his dick glisten with a foggy whiteness. I shut my eyes quickly and let the sensations take over, a rush of warmth starting from my toes to my head.

It makes me hazy in every sense of the word, high off the feeling of his dick hitting my sensitive spot over and over again— whilst he simultaneously circles my swollen clit with the pad of his thumb.

“O-Oh shit–” I moan, my legs nearly going limp underneath him. I feel Yoongi slide his cock out,

grabbing a fistful of my hair to bring my face up to his dick. “Open f-for me, baby,” He demands, and I do so, having him stuff my mouth full of his length.

I place my hands on his hips and stroke him with my tongue, suctioning his hard cock.

“God– fuck!” He moans, tugging at my hair as he paints the inside of my mouth with white. I don’t let go from my grip on his skin, bobbing my head into him to stretch out his orgasm as much as I can. We’re both as tired as can be but watching him from below like this, seeing him unravel, is all I need to keep going.

“Baby– baby…” He cooes as he glides his length from my mouth, collapsing from his knees and pressing his forehead against mine– breathing heavily. He grabs my face with his hands and kisses my mouth lazily, “My Kanako…I love you,” He whispers, moving his lips to scatter pecks all over my face.

“I love you, Yoongi. I love you so much.” I reply lazily, succumbing to his sloppy kisses. He holds me like this for moments on end, forehead pressed against mine. We share each other's air as our chests move fast, heavy. I can see his tired state and yet– he’s unable to let go of me. Breathing me in as I am him, not wanting to end this just yet.

But of course there seems to be always something, especially when it comes to the fact we just had sex on this hotel couch. Nice hotel couch, ‘kay?

“What the actual fuck.” The moment is interrupted, like a dumbbell being dropped on a glass coffee table. I’m struck with the deepest sense of horror and embarrassment, reality hitting me hard and fast. Jungkook is stood there, boxers only, rubbing his eyes as he stares at me and Yoongi. We’re both covered in sex and must smell like it too– Yoongi grabbing a pillow to throw over me.

“Jungkook, this is– it’s-” Yoongi starts, but the young boy cuts him off.

“You guys are really…” He trails off in his scratchy-sleep voice.

I furrow my brows angrily, so many feelings being present at once.

“Just- let me get dressed and we can talk about this.” I urge him, darting my eyes around to emphasize the current situation. My naked body, Yoongi’s now soft dick, and a messy couch.

Jungkook shakes his head and goes back into his room to get dressed as well, is what I choose to assume. The door shuts quietly and I turn to Yoongi– my eyes wide. “Fuck. Fuck.” I whisper yell at him.

“I’m sorry, I know-”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Kanako, he’s older now. He isn’t fifteen anymore, don’t you think he can handle it?” Yoongi questions. I bite my lip and pick up my clothes from the floor, deciding to put Yoongi's bigger shirt on instead of my tight one. I don’t bother snapping my bra back on– too much work.

I answer while changing, “There’s other conflicts at hand. I think you know what they are.” I respond. Yoongi grows faint, only nodding.

As I struggle to put on my skirt I decide to leave it off, knowing the baggier top will cover whatever my underwear can’t. “Just let me talk to him. I’ll be back. Tell him to meet me out there.” I say evenly, pointing my gaze to the balcony.

Yoongi sighs in acceptance and plants a kiss on my forehead, “As long as you come back.”

JULY 11TH, 2023, 3:30AM

I stand on the balcony, arms resting on the railing. There couldn’t be anything more nostalgic than standing out here. Under the stars in this summer air. Reminds me of all those good and bad moments I had in their dorms. This would be the perfect way to end this night– if it wasn’t for what just happened.

I hear Jungkook behind me, his hand closing the sliding door. “Hey.” He mutters.

“Jungkook…” I say almost immediately, needing to hash whatever it is to come.

“You know it’s funny,” He shifts, walking next to me with his hands stuffed in his pockets.“When I got here at first, I didn’t even know it had a balcony. It’s covered behind those curtains, but I felt drawn to it. So I opened them and discovered this. You were the first thing I thought of when I got out here.”

“Really?” I ask, entertaining the sudden change in topic. If it keeps me from having to talk about what he walked into, I’ll gladly do so.

“Kanako, you pop up into my head at least once a day.”

“For the past eleven years?”

His mouth stutters before he speaks, “Never skipped a day. I…don’t think any of us went a full twenty-four hours without thinking of you.”

I whisper a small ‘oh’, looking at him fondly. The night sky shadows his face perfectly, following the curvature of his nose to his lips. That lip ring, I can’t deny it looks great on him. My eyes

can’t help but trail to the sleeve on his arm, scattered in permanent ink. I crave for the mutuality we had before. But I don’t regret doing what I did with Yoongi, even if it makes me selfish.

“What about you?” He meets my eyes, “Did you ever think about me?”

I ache at his voice, hearing him ask that. Like he should know. He needs to know.

“Every day.” I confess easily. I’ve been needing to say that. “I’m sorry I didn’t call…or-or pick up. I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t…” My voice gets shaky and my throat gets caught.

He wraps his arm around me casually, like he used to before. This time it’s able to loop around my shoulder fully, and it covers more. It’s solid and warm, comforting.

“I forgive you.” He says, placing a kiss on my head. I nuzzle into his embrace, accepting the forgiveness I don’t think I deserve. Maybe I will one day, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for everything I lost.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” I smile, persevering through the stinging that’s currently ripping me in two. A beat of silence floats above us, but it isn’t unwanted. It’s singing softly, like background music. I settle into the darkness of the sky, enjoying the feeling of having him here again.

I always dreamt about this. About seeing them, him, Yoongi, all over again. I’m so content. But still, there’s a question. Undeclared queries my mind is aching to figure out the answer to.

“Jungkook–”

“I know.”

“But-”

“I’ll get over it.”

He sucks in his teeth, nodding as if accepting his fate. I shake my head and separate my body from his. He looks at me like I’m being difficult, “Kanako, let’s not do this.” He argues.

I bite the inside of my cheek, “I can’t…be truly happy with Yoongi if you’re in pain. It’s not fair.”

His expression softens. It’s almost like he’s the eldest, the one to talk me down. It makes me devastated to see him take on this role. The bigger person, the mature one.

“I can’t be truly happy if you’re not. I love you, so that means I want the best for you. I-I would’ve fought for you. I could’ve. God Kanako– the things I would’ve done to have you–” He chuckles to himself, running a hand through his messy hair, “But you’ve never been mine.” He finishes, pupil’s still focused on me.

You’ve never been mine. Those words pain me, thinking of what he must’ve felt through all of this. The heartbreak, the loss, and now the rejection. If only I could feel what he felt, if I could aid his pain in some way. The thought of giving up Yoongi for Jungkook is not at all an easy one, not one I’d choose in this lifetime. The boy was never that to me. if I could be two different people, just so he could have a part of me in the way he wants, I would.

But that’s not possible. It never will be.

I exhale heavily, processing everything he’s just said. Everything that’s happened the past few hours.

“How did it even come to that? The last thing I remember…” I whisper.

“It wasn’t until you were gone, like really really gone, Kanako. I was just a kid, I didn’t know what those feelings were. How I felt about…a life with you. One that was different than I initially thought. And when I finally did I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I needed to talk to you, to know if that could ever happen.”

“Is that why? You called for-for months?”

He looks down, “Towards the end, yeah. Until it was clear that you didn’t want to be…known anymore. I know different now, obviously. But, it broke me. I was so angry that every girl I was ever with was compared to you. Every girl I wanted was just a replica of you. I mean– whatever. It’s…whatever.” He shrugs and shifts his gaze back to the streets before us.

I peer my head over to him, “I’m sorry, Jungkook. I’m so sorry. I wish…that I could-”

“Don’t do that to me, Kanako. Please.” He mutters, still refusing my direction.

I reach my finger for his chin, tilting it towards me. There’s watery tears pooling his eyes, making me crumble at the sight. I would do anything to heal his hurt, to make this all the easier. But would it be selfish of me to choose Yoongi? There is no other option for me, besides no one at all.

I don’t love Jungkook the way he wants me to, I don’t think I ever could. He holds a big piece of my heart, one made especially for him. He fits into the crevice so perfectly, but the space for anything more is nonexistent. I could never kiss him the way I do Yoongi, never look at him like a lover. He’s my Jungkook. While Yoongi holds the position of soulmate, Jungkook is my twin flame. Connected by familiarity and nostalgia, everything that has to do with the word ‘home.’

He smiles, the one he does where I can see his two front teeth. He’s back.

“I won’t. Just stay by our side again, okay?” He says, though I know through layers of pain.

He almost jumps at me– bringing me in for a tight hug. I go on my tip-toes slightly to rest my chin on his shoulder, surrendering all my tension into his arms. “I’ll stay. I’ll stay, Kookie.”

He hums and rocks me slightly, from side-to-side. I reach my hand over his arm to wipe the small drops that were close to running down my face. This time, and maybe one of the firsts, the tears being happy ones. Pure, indescribable bliss runs through my body like clear river water, knowing I’m back with them for good.

“You’ll be here tomorrow, right? We can go to breakfast and maybe some art galleries?” Jungkook sniffles, parting from the hug.

I sigh whilst my body cringes, thinking of work. Fuck.

“I have to go to work tomorrow, my boss needs me to review some stuff.” I whine, showing my blatant annoyance.

He frowns, “You can’t call out?”

I puff out, placing my hands on my hips. “Jungkook.”

“Sorry, sorry. That’s okay, I suppose. But you’ll make it to visit us before our flight? It’s at 6 pm, but you can see us at four-thirtyish, before we head out so you’re not caught by paparazzi or something.”

I nod quickly, “Yes, absolutely. I can do that.”

Some quietness passes, he shuffles his feet awkwardly.

“What?” I squint, confused.

“Well, what about…after? Will we hear from you? WIll you…visit?” He mumbles coherently enough to where I can understand. I hesitate, but only for a millisecond. I’m sure of it now, all of it. I won’t run away. Not when it’s good for me. And they’re good for me.

A part of me flickers thinking of Korea again. But I think it’ll look different, feel different. I’m embracing the old Kanako as much as the new one. If anything, I’m excited to experience it as the person I am now. See it in a different lens. Maybe I’ll visit the Han River again, ride bikes with Namjoon and have picnics with Yoongi.

And most importantly, I know my mothers spirit resides there. She isn’t a ghost to me anymore, something I’m afraid of. Keiko’s made it easier to celebrate her. I can do that again. With them.

I reassure the young boy, “I’ll call, text, send letters, and facetime. And…maybe I’ll stop by for a visit or two. Possibly stay at your place?” I bite my lip, staring up to him teasingly. Knowing he’ll definitely like the idea of me sleeping over like all those times before.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, “Sure, yeah. Whatever. You’re gonna have to tell Yoongi that he’s gonna have to split the time up…or we’ll just share the bed again.”

“I’m nearly thirty, Jungkook. I can’t do that.”

He pouts.

I roll my eyes in response, “Ok. Maybe.”

The sliding door opens once more, a now-dressed Yoongi peering from inside. Jungkook tenses just a bit, not saying anything as he enters.

“Everything..okay?” Yoongi asks, folding his arms to protect himself from the slight cold that lingers.

I smile at Jungkook who in turn eases back up.

“I was actually just telling Jungkook,” I turn back to Yoongi, “That I’ll be visiting you guys before you head off for the airport. Work and stuff.” I finish. Jungkook nods in agreement, shoving me playfully. “Tell him what else.” He whispers.

I suck in a breath, “Andddd, I’ll be visiting you soon. In Korea. So don’t get sick of me just yet.”

He follows to where me and Jungkook are, placing his elbows on the balcony railing. We all look at each other fondly, taking mental pictures of this moment.

Yoongi exhales, “If you're the one taking care of me, I hope I get sick all the time.”

Jungkook cringes, “That was so bad, hyung.”

JULY 11TH, 2023, 4:27PM

There’s been many times throughout my work day that I’ve fallen asleep. If it wasn’t for this day being especially busy, I would’ve passed out on my desk. But everything in me was fighting to stay conscious. Not because I was needed, but because of the boys.

Embarrassingly so, they were my main priority of the day. I made sure I got everything done just in time to clock out early, rushing to gather my things and speeding out the door.

Now I sit in an Uber in the middle of traffic. The hotel they’re staying at is ten minutes away by car but fifteen minutes on foot. I bounce my leg anxiously as I dart my gaze from my phone to the busy road. The minutes are passing quickly and I can’t seem to slow time down.

“Five o’clock traffic, right?” The driver laughs, tapping the wheel to the song that’s playing on the radio.

My brows are furrowed and I’m biting my lip, hard. Ignoring whatever the man at the front said when my thoughts become deafening.

Shit. I have no choice.

It’s already four-thirty, so I grip the door handle and apologize profusely.

“Sorry! Sorry! I’ll pay you for the full thing! Bye!” I exclaim, opening the door. I grab my bag and throw it over my body, cross-bodying it. I look down to my sneakers that I swapped out before I left for work, thanking God I didn’t forget my usual routine. New York is the most walk-able, non-walk-able city to ever exist. You always need a pair of these if you are gonna go anywhere. Or, suffer for the intention of beauty. That, I’ve done plenty.

Anyway, I start running. Full on sprinting. I know starting off with such speed will only tire myself out. But, I need to get there on time. I can’t have them thinking I’m bailing on them. As I pass the confused, scared people I grow to be beyond shame at this point.

I throw my hands over my breasts to keep them still, again, beyond shame. I pass by stores, outlets, apartments, and this run is probably the most cardio I’ve done since my idol days. I can see the entrance of the hotel inching closer, yet I have so many crosswalks I still need to pass.

One by one I wait every single time. Safety first?

I’m a heavy-breathing, sweaty-hairline mess by the time I’ve met with the last crosswalk. There’s already paparazzi hiding behind cars and bushes, ready to sneakily snapshot the moment those boys leave the building.

I have to think fast as I approach the hotel, not knowing how I could possibly hide my face. I could not, in any shape or form, have my face back in the tabloids connected to BTS’s name. There’s already enough of that in the news now, considering the release of their book.

I did snoop around during my lunch break, seeing old photos that somehow leaked. Ones where I know staff took them, which is disappointing knowing they probably turned those in just for a couple hundred bucks. It’s nothing defaming to the boys or me, just private moments I wish had stayed private.

So, my name is already circulating around. I dig in my bag for an old face mask that’s been there for months, probably. I throw it on my face and release my hair from my ponytail, attempting to hide as much of my features as I can.

I take a deep breath as I begin the pathway to the hotel doors. I attempt to look as casual as I can, passing the paparazzi as a regular city-goer. Just a very rich woman who is always staying at this hotel, nothing to see. Nothing to notice.

I reach my hand for the door handle until it bursts open, knocking me to the ground suddenly. Namjoon stands with luggage in hand, stunned and apologizing profusely before really understanding what just happened. I too am confused, rubbing my butt in pain and the brightest red shading my cheeks. I just got knocked down in front of all these paparazzi, and as I see Jimin my eyes widen when he shouts loudly, “KANAKO! NAMJOON, YOU IDIOT!”

The blonde, leather-jacketed man drops his suitcase to run to my rescue, helping me from the ground. The snapshots of cameras become faster, flashier, seeing the very popular star assisting the woman they now know as Kanako Fujishima.

The retired, scandalous idol.

Jungkook and Yoongi are close behind, witnessing the sight of my disheveled state.

JK splits through Joon and Jimin, “Kanako, we thought you couldn’t make it!” He exclaims, hugging me even with the prowling eyes.

I hold him firmly, warmly. Feeling relief knowing I could still see them off.

“I jumped out of my Uber to be here if that tells you anything. I had to see you guys before you left, you know.” I smile through my teeth as I speak.

Yoongi peers from Jungkook's broad shoulders in a baggy white button-up, paired with even baggier black sweats. He looks amazing even with such little effort, and I couldn’t be happier to see his face.

The events of last night rush past the walls of my mind, having to push them down if I was ever wanting to speak normally again. I attempt to not become a stuttering mess, feeling like a nervous mess with a school crush.

“Hi Yoon.” We share a breathy laugh before he pulls me in his arms as well.

“You’ve never called me that before.” He says, his embrace making all of my surroundings suddenly melt into the back of my mind.

The cameras haven’t halted their flashing and I try not to picture the headlines in my head when I hear them, overlapping one another.

He pulls away from me, taking a risky hand to caress my face. Pulling the face mask off my face, he tucks it into his pocket.

“Yoongi, there’s people–”

“I know.”

He eyes my lips in a swift move before dipping his head to kiss me. His cupid bow lines perfectly with mine, moving in a soft flow. It’s nothing ostentatious by any means, not even heated. It’s short and enough to say something, but not shout it.

I’m the first to break the kiss in an anxiety-induced cloud, looking at him, my expression completely bewildered.

“So…” I say in one breath, pursing my mouth in an even line. I look around to the gawking pedestrians and then to Yoongi, who’s enamored…by me? He has an uncomplicated gleam in his eyes that isn’t fading. His hand drops to his side, head nodding to the paparazzi.

“They don’t matter to me, just you. I love you, Kanako.” He states, his sure gaze pressing into my unraveled smile.

“I love you. I love you,” I repeat, giving him one last kiss before grabbing his suitcase to hand to him.

He accepts it hesitantly, brushing our hands together. The boys taking that as the cue to start moving into the car. They all give me more hugs, more temporary good-byes as they step inside the shiny, black vehicle.

It’s bittersweet, seeing them getting ready to leave. Bitter because I can’t wait to see them, him, again.

But sweet because I know I will see them again. I’m strong enough now. There’s not a doubt in my mind that I’ll be on the next flight to Seoul as soon as I’m able to. And who knows? Maybe I’ll gain the courage to relocate. Perhaps Keiko and I can use a change of scenery. She’s never been to South Korea, and I know with her and the boys by my side, I’ll soothe into it.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I’m too excited not to.

Before Yoongi enters the car he turns to me, giving me a gummy smile that buzzes through my body instantaneously.

“I’ll see you back home.” He says.

click here to start from the beginning!

an: holy shit you guys. this has been so healing and so fun for me to write this past month. seeing this community of people enjoy my writing has been so extremely eye-opening and crazy since this has always been a passion of mine! thank you, thank you, thank you for tuning into to all chapters of cool about it! and to readers who are joining after it’s all finished, thank you too for keeping it alive!

im thinking about doing little drabbles or one-shots here and there (of all the members bc ot7) as well so stay tuned for that!

don’t get sick of me just yet!

love you all. thank you.

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mygloviesme · 6 months

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final chapter coming out soon everyone! I’m just having to write&edit so much in one chapter so pleaseee hold tight. I promise it’ll be worth it! love you 💜💟

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mygloviesme · 6 months

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👉👈 🥺 I’m the link to the second chapter of cool with it isn’t working it’s saying no post found. I don’t know if it’s just me. I just thought I should let you know. Also I apologize if this isn’t the right way to tell you about it. I LIVE THE STORY THOUGHHHH

hi anon reader💓💓

just fixed the link thank u sm for letting me know! this is absolutely the perfect place to tell me so no worries at all!!!!

thank you for reading and loving the story💜💜💜

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mygloviesme · 6 months

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@florabloomgirly asked:

“Why is she the one to take all the blame and be kicked out of the company when the boys were involved as well?”

very good question! i think that sort of theme is something I would’ve liked to add a lot more throughout the story. and maybe i did in a way but basically

I would imagine the industry, for women, is unfair and unjust. obviously so.

pd-nim was used as a face and a name so in no way am i trying to portray him in a certain light! but

I think to an extent he(bang) was very supportive of kanako and what had happened to her, in a sort of “perfect victim” way. once it was found out about her and yoongi, her comfort person I guess (for better or for worse), to bang that was the sort of “perfect victim” thing being bursted.

she was no longer this innocent girl who had nothing to do with what happened, but something that was continuing to hurt their company and she needed to be weeded out. I think in his male mind she wasn’t worthy of being brought back if she was like trying to start things up with another guy. like he had this messed up realization that it was her all along. (even tho it absolutely was not)

way deeper than it needed to be but I hope it answered your question lol! thanks for asking💓

#cool about it q&a

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mygloviesme · 6 months

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I have a question about Cool About It! 🙋🏼‍♀️ Yoongi told Kanako that she was his first BJ, but was he a virgin otherwise? 🤭

this is SOOO funny!!!! LMAOO

yes.

I purposely wrote him to be overconfident and like “he knew what he was doing”, because I think that’s just like…the person he is in this story. I thought it would be silly to contrast that to the fact that he’s a wholeeee virgin

virgin!yoongi vibes. i imagine most of them to be virgins except the older ones. thanks for the question anonymous reader! love u 💓

#cool about it q&a

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mygloviesme · 6 months

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cool about it, eleven years later. || myg

no. 2 of 3: she called me a fucking liar

predebut/debut!yoongi x female idol

(definitely inspired by boygenius)

word count: 4.6k

genre: ANGST, fluff, melodrama

chapter warnings: mentions of mental health, drinking, smoking

inspo song: worldstar money by joji

JULY 9TH, 2023, 10:48PM

The woman next to Yoongi loops her arm around his, holding him close. A knife puncturing my stomach only twists further. Further and further.

“Who’s this?” She asks genuinely, kindly. Oh, I loathe her. I hate myself for it but I hate her more. The feelings I’m having are childish and jealous, completely unreasonable. But she’s so perfect. Her body fits into his like they were made for each other. I don’t recognize myself right now. It feels like high school with the way I’m obsessing over her every move.

All I want to do right now is run into the club and down more drinks than I can fathom. Self destructive is the right word. I was never one for spite, but right now I wish I had a man on my own arm.

“This is…Kanako.” He speaks, gulping.

Her eyes widen and she breaks apart from him, taking my hands. “Oh my goodness! I didn’t even recognize you! I’m Aimee, remember? I was a trainee at Bighit for a little while.”

The memories flood my brain as I recount who exactly she was. I do remember her. After the news broke out, she was the one who told me I could still take back what I said about Haneul. She was on his side.

This is who he’s with? I feel a burning in my stomach, a validating one. I have a reason to dislike her. It gives me reason to hate her. And God, do I hate her right now.

I look at Yoongi as Aimee holds my hands in hers, utter incredulity painting my face like a mural. I’m not sure if he remembers, but I do. Those words all those years ago were repeated over and over again so I could hate myself even more. She was amongst the people that made me afraid to go outside ever again.

Haneul doesn’t have that power over me anymore, and neither does she. At least for being on his side. But I’m definitely giving her power by wanting to rip her away from Yoongi. This is getting embarrassing.

“Yes. I do. You were friends with Haneul, weren’t you?” I smile with bitterness. I’m old enough to make statements now. I’m old enough to create boundaries. I don’t have to lie about liking someone. Fuck being the bigger person. I’ve been big, I’ve been small. I’ve done it all.

Her beaming smile fades and she lets go of me, “N-No. Well, yes. But I know better now, I’m so sorry for what I said. I haven’t spoken to him in over a decade.” She says. Yeah, right.

Yoongi only stands with his hands in his pockets, not saying a word. I don’t want to be talking to Aimee, but I’m not entirely sure I want to be talking to him either. I don’t know if I have the strength to, considering how it went with Jungkook. There’s too many thoughts circling my mind at this very moment, all of them being about Yoongi. I don’t even know if I would consider him an ex, someone I knew, the one that got away. Because that would be me, I got away.

I know I should’ve moved on long ago. I know I did in certain ways. But still after all these years I never understood why I could never give myself to someone else.The feelings for Yoongi had never dissipated, I just forgot what it’s like for him to be standing in front of me. Looking like that.

This hurts so fucking bad.

“Hey, Koko.” I hear Keiko say from behind Yoongi. She holds her bag as well as mine. Her body is asking if I’m ready to go. She knows. “It’s alright Aimee. Have a good night.” I say and nod to Yoongi who makes strong eye-contact with me.

I turn to Namjoon, “How long are you going to be in New York for?”

“Just two more days.” He says, “We can meet up again if you’d like.”

I walk to Keiko, grabbing my bag. “I’ll call you.” I tell him. He nods slowly and I wave a quick good-bye before me and Keiko head off into the Uber she called over.

As I walk away I’m fighting the urge to look back. I didn’t then, but I want to now. A part of me wants to tell Yoongi that I want to see him again. But the other part wants me to ignore all those precious memories we have together and lock them in a box, throwing away the key. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. I grip my purse tighter, biting my lip.

Before we get into the Uber, I reluctantly choose to look back. I hold the car door with one hand, turning to Yoongi. He was already looking at me. Those almond eyes. I keep that short moment in my back-pocket, saving it for tonight.

He looked back, and so did I.

JULY 9TH, 2023, 12:34AM

Me and Keiko sit on my bed, face masks on and a tub of ice cream between us with one spoon staked in the frozen dessert. It’s rocky-road, my favorite but her least favorite. She knew how much I needed it though, so she succumbed to the chunky-goodness.

“So how was it?”

“What?”

She rolls her eyes, “You know what I’m talking about.”

I take a deep breath, exhaling for a moment. “Awful. Jungkook was so upset, and I mean for the right reasons. But it just took me by surprise. He was so…sure with himself. Namjoon is sort of the same. Level-headed. But Yoongi…”

“He has long hair now.”

I shove her playfully, “Shut up!”

She takes the spoon, dipping it into ice cream before pulling it to her mouth. “Sorry. You were saying?”

I lean my hands back, “I felt like it was the first time all over again.”

“Like no time had passed?”

I pull a face, “It’s so stupid.”

She raises her eyebrows, giving her head a small tilt. “Just a little.”

I scoff, “Kay, sorry if I thought this was a safe space.”

“It is! It is. It's just funny to hear that is all. But I get it, trust me. Although it’s been eleven years.”

“Don’t rub it in! I know. But besides that, seeing him was so unreal. Unlike the others, he just seemed…the same. I don’t know. Should I see Namjoon tomorrow?” I ask, grabbing the spoon from her hand to have a bite.

“Well, what I’m hearing is you asking if you should see Yoongi tomorrow.” She purses her lips.

I nod sheepishly. “Maybe I am.”

“Kanako, can I be serious with you? For just a moment.” She stops and places her hands on my shoulders. I hold the spoon in my hand nervously, looking at her serious expression. “Sure.” I’m not. Keiko’s brutal honesty is never something to be ignored.

“As much as I love to encourage your bad decisions, I have to draw a line. Because I love you, and because I think you know this too…don’t try to stir things back up with him.”

I pout, “That wasn’t exactly my intention-”

“I know. But at your core, you’re a romantic. A lifelong monogamist, as much as you don’t like to admit it. You haven’t been in a real relationship in eleven years, and that makes me worry for you. And your vagina.”

“You know I’ve been trying to open up more!”

“Yes babe, but after eleven years? You couldn’t have been waiting for him, were you?”

She keeps emphasizing eleven years which doesn’t make me feel good. I know it’s sort of something that’s been left unsaid, my lack of relationships. But I’ve played it off as not needing a man, being too focused on my work. I’m just a workaholic, it’s fine. Even though that isn’t necessarily true. I love my free time. I love having free time. I knew one day I’d gain the strength to start something up with someone else, I was just waiting. Yeah, waiting.

“No! I mean not really. I just haven’t…felt that spark with anyone else.”

“Spark. Right.” She squints suspiciously.

“It’s true!” I gasp. It isn’t.

I settle down and play with the hem of my sweater, “Don’t act like I haven’t moved on.”

She cooes, “Oh, Koko. I know you have. I just think seeing him was hard for you. It brought up stuff, didn’t it?”

That’s definitely a word for it. Stuff. If stuff means feelings, yes. Feelings I can’t quite figure out. It’s not like I want to seduce him out of his relationship, but a part of me is so hungry to know him again. To know what he’s been up to, if he still likes his coffee the same, if his love for me hasn’t faltered. It hurts me so much to think that mine hasn’t. Haneul was never my first love, Yoongi was. What I felt for Yoongi was deeper, something I didn’t and couldn’t understand at eighteen.

What I had with Hanuel was a need to be seen, validated. There wasn’t any depth besides the trauma I got out of it. That’s a black hole I’ve gotten out of. With stories to tell and scars to hide, but It’s gone. Thank God.

“Yeah…it did.”

She pulls me in for an embrace, kissing my forehead. “Do what you want, I love you. He’s just…obviously with someone new. I don’t want you to get hurt. But you should see Namjoon. And maybe try to fix things with Jungkook. That’ll make you feel better.”

I nod into her shirt, “Yeah, it will.”

She pulls herself back from the embrace, seemingly confused. “It kind of surprises me that your feelings are so strong for him…and yet you guys never had sex.”

“Trust me, that took me months to get over.”

JULY 10TH, 2023, 6:00PM

I move the hair in front of my face and adjust my soft pink top before I enter the rather expensive restaurant Namjoon had invited me to. This is definitely not a place we would’ve come to back then. Even I have never been here before.

There’s a few moments before I’m met with a hostess, “Kanako?” She asks and I nod, gripping the handle of my purse tighter. My hands are growing clammier, embarrassingly enough. Namjoon asked if he could invite some of the other members that were here as well, and I accepted warily. I knew I’d easily get overwhelmed by seeing most of them again, but I didn’t know when I’d have another chance to. Seeing as they’re all busy and for the first time in eleven years I’m taking a leap of faith.

I don’t know when I’d have this courage again. Especially if it means Yoongi might be there.

She leads me to a seated area covered by a black curtain. Her hand delicately brushes it open for me, revealing the four familiar men. For some reason I expected something more dramatic, more tragic. I have pessimism on the brain, but can you blame me? It’s my easiest coping mechanism. My most self-destructive one. A common theme lately.

She gives me leeway to enter and I respond to her with a quick thanks before entering the small room. The men all stand quickly but seem to be caught, saying nothing. Their eyes dart to each other for a quick minute before Jimin smiles, “You look great.” Unexpected, but I’ll take it.

They all look great too, all so mature and aged. I could take notes. But I think they’d be pricey notes.

It feels like I’m standing in front of strangers in a sense, eleven years taking off memories from me little by little. But I still remember a lot. Even with Jimin’s cadence in his voice, it’s so different. It’s softer. More gentle, like I’m a new friend. New friend.

“Please, sit.” Namjoon insists and I do so, sitting next to him which seems like the safest bet. I place my purse down beside me and shuffle in my seat, “Thanks for…inviting me. It’s great seeing you all again.” I say, trying so hard not to cringe with my words. Just like last night, it feels like anything I say doesn’t amount to how big this situation is.

We used to be all so close. I knew them. They called me their sister at some point.

“You too. Sorry Taehyung couldn’t make it. He’s busy and all that.” Namjoon chuckles, planting his elbows on the table. Jungkook sits right in front of me, not speaking a word. His eyes stay looking down at the table, sometimes to Jimin.

I don’t know whether to look at them or not, it all feels like the wrong move. What if they don’t like who I am now? The way I dress, speak, move. I want them to recognize me. I’m almost thirty, why do I care so much about what they think of me?

“We went ahead and ordered meat and other side stuff. You like fish cakes right? And beer? If not, I could get you something else.” Namjoon asks.

“N-No, that’s all fine. Thank you…”

More silence.

“I got spicy cucumber salad for you. I know how much you liked it then.” Jungkook says between the echoing quiet. Then.

“Oh yeah, I still do. And I still like-”

“Pickled radish.” Yoongi whispers, fiddling with his hands. They remember. He remembers.

I respond with a soft laugh, “Right.”

He smiles too, looking up at me. One day I’ll stop feeling whatever this is I feel for Min Yoongi, but as long as he stays just like this, I don’t think that will happen any time soon. There’s a delicate fluttering in my stomach as we keep eye contact with each other, like it’s all that time ago. I would call myself delusional, crazy, everything that means that I’m looking too much into it. But if I could print this moment on paper, you’d believe me.

“So you guys are on a hiatus? How has that been?” I question genuinely. Jimin totters in his seat, making a ‘tsk’ sound with his mouth. It reminds me of Hoseok. I wish they were all here, but I’m glad I at least have this.

“Taking a break has been great for most of us, but I’m still working on music and whatnot. So is Jungkook, but we definitely have more free time than we did a year ago. We wouldn’t have been able to go on a dinner like this if it were, say, 2021.” He says honestly. The boys nod in agreement.

“Really?” I raise my brows in shock.

“Yeah, we were robots for like, six years straight. Non-stop working. What about you?” Jimin tilts his head.

“Yeah, Kanako. We’re- I am- very curious about what you’ve been doing. You went to college when you left, didn’t you?” Namjoon says it as if it isn’t a sore topic. It is for me, and with the way Yoongi shut down privately it seems like it was the same for them too.

I play with the glass of water in front of me, “Yeah I did. I graduated with a degree in communications, so I work with my friend Keiko at the New York Times as an editor. She was doing an internship there and…managed to get us both in, I guess. I’m pretty lucky.” I admit.

Jimin’s mouth is agape, “Kanako, that's seriously impressive.”

I scoff, “Oh shush, nothing like being a global star. Mr. Nominated For A Grammy.”

Namjoon shakes his head playfully, “There’s the Kanako I remember.”

I smile to myself as I hear Namjoon’s comment, “But thanks Jimin.” I say.

Before he can reply a waiter comes in with multiple servings of all kinds of food. He places the raw meat besides the grill, following with the various side dishes all neatly surrounding the table. It’s so much food, something we definitely never did back then.

Once everything is settled, Yoongi grabs the tongs, pointing them at me.

“Make sure to eat a lot. It’s on us.”

JULY 10TH, 2023, 7:47PM

We’ve grown into a more comfortable banter as we all eat. Talking about celebrities they’ve met, encounters with fans in bathrooms, and something Namjoon wants to say to me.

He chews on the kimchi that sits in his mouth, covering it with his hand. “I mean it’s not that big of a deal, but now that you’re here I just wanted to tell you because it sort of is a big thing.”

“Go ahead Joon.” I assure him.

He swallows, “Well- uh. I’m bisexual. And I’m dating a guy. He’s cool.”

I widen my eyes. Definitely didn’t see that coming. I mean, kind of. He’s always been a very open-minded person, but I never heard him talk about any sort of crush. Besides that one time in a club, but I never assumed he was straight. Or anyone else, for that matter. I’m happy for him though. I know it must be hard for them to maintain relationships during all this chaos, but the dust has settled. And he seems happy, which is most important.

“Oh sweet.” I reply nonchalantly, hoping to not scare him away.

“That’s it? Sweet?” He chuckles, turning over the cooking bulgogi.

“Scratch that, I’m glad you found someone. That makes me happy you could do that in the midst of, you know everything that’s been going on for you. Where’d you meet?” I reply.

He sighs, “Mutual friends. It was hard to connect with other guys during the, you know, spotlight. I’m still not out obviously, but he’s really okay with it. We go to art galleries and dinners and such. It’s pretty serious.”

I grin as I sip my beer, “Is he as smart as you?”

“He tries to keep up.” Namjoon replies with a smirk.

Jimin perks his head up, “What about you Kanako? Anyone in your life?”

I gulp. It takes everything in me to not look at Yoongi. I hope the small beat after he asked the question isn’t obvious. I look down to my fish cake, “Not really.”

“Has there ever been? It’s been eleven years, you know.” He says. Ugh.

“You sound just like Keiko.” I mumble.

Namjoon tilts his head, “Are you and Keiko…”

I shake my head quickly, “No. Nope.” I respond to him, turning to Jimin. “Uh- some guys here and there but nothing ever serious. I’m pretty focused on my work. What about you, Jiminie?” I attempt to curb the conversation from myself. Trying to not make it obvious I’m hiding a deep, dirty secret that’s sitting across from me.

There’s an abrupt laughter that bounces off the table. I look around, confused. “What am I missing?” I say.

Jungkook laughs, “Jimin is the opposite of a monogamist.”

Jimin’s face washes over with an obvious scarlet, “I like to have fun, that’s all.”

I giggle and lean back in my seat, “Ahhh, I see.”

That was an unsurprising answer from him. And I’m sure with the fame there’s even more options for a guy like him. “Is it limited to just women?” I ask.

Jimin gasps, “Why does everyone ask that!”

Namjoon laughs hard, holding his stomach in the process. “Kanako is asking the real questions.” He chokes out whilst wiping tears from his eyes.

“But to answer your question, definitely not.” Jimin gives a cheeky look to me as he responds. It’s clear he’s growing more buzzed by the minute. I assume that night at the club sparked something in him. It’s fun, for now.

This news is all so raw to me but it’s so fluid. The aging only made the conversations better, more comfortable. There’s less hesitation and more openness. There’s still a silence in Yoongi’s corner, reminding me of how he was when I first met him. Shy. But the topic of conversation I know is something he doesn’t want to contribute to. Not after the awkward encounter I had with his supposed beau. His young, annoying beau.

“And you, Jungkook?” I ask.

Jimin pats the young boy on the arm, “Still afraid of women. But I think he was just having a hard time moving on from-”

“Shut up.” Jungkook is quick to quiet the tipsy man down. There is an obvious glow to Jimin’s cheeks as time passes, and I don’t remember how many glasses of beer he’s had if that tells you anything. His mouth is like a loose cannon. Things don’t feel great. The table turns quiet again. Something else I’m missing. Jimin shrugs.

“Let’s just say Yoongi isn’t the only one still hung up on you.” He mutters under his breath, taking a big gulp of his beer. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

“Jimin, really?” Namjoon looks at him in disbelief. Jungkook is also shocked, holding a hand up as if he’s stopped in his tracks. “I can’t believe you said that.” The young boy whispers.

Jimin tries to reach for Jungkook, slurring a small ‘I’msorry’ before Jungkook slides out of his seat to walk out of the room. Jimin follows the young boy in hopes to apologize. All I feel is second-hand embarrassment, confusion, and heaps of awkwardness. Yoongi sets down his chopsticks in a disappointed manner, exhaling loudly.

He looks at me for the second time today, “Don’t pay attention to him. He’s grown to be a messy drunk.” He says.

I nod and hang my head politely, not wanting to add fuel to the fire. But it might be too late for that, because before I can think I’m jolting my head back up in question.

“What did he mean, not the only one?” I ask, looking at the two men.

Namjoon bites his lip, “Not sure if that’s our place to say.”

But what does it mean? Is Yoongi still hung up on me? Is Jungkook? I didn’t think he ever felt that way towards me, he called me his sister for god's sake. Was it a cover-up? Did feelings develop over time? How did I not know? How did I not expect this? This gives everything a new meaning that I do not want.

I don’t want any of this. “I’m so sorry.” I whisper as I pick at my rice.

“It’s to be expected.” Yoongi responds, seriously.

His tone is indistinct which causes me to be a bit bewildered, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs apathetically, “Everything was…never concluded properly. You left things sort of a mess after you left.”

I scoff and cross my arms, blatantly offended. “A mess?”

Namjoon attempts to break up the rising tension, “Guys let’s not-”

But Yoongi has intentions. Everything is coming to the surface, I know it. I hear the words flow from Yoongi’s mouth like he’s rehearsed them. Like he’s always known what he was going to say, eleven years later.

“We loved you, and you left. You can’t expect us to not have feelings about it.”

We loved you. The same knife digs into me as I hear him.

“I’m not expecting anything. It’s just been-”

“Eleven years? Yeah, we know.” He laughs sarcastically. He always knows what I’m going to say next. In this moment I wish he knew nothing about me.

There’s a bubbling frustration within me that grows to its peak, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I loved you all too, okay?” My words begin to adhere to him, unbeknownst to me. It’s coming out. “I spent days and nights thinking about you. I wanted to come back, I wanted to call. But it would make- it would’ve made moving on so much harder.”

“Why did you want to?”

“Want to what?”

Namjoon places a hand on my shoulder to cool me down but I’m an unstoppable forest fire, trees and wildlife burning down in front of their eyes. They’ve watched me crumble so many times it’s almost unbelievable it’s happening all over again. Some things really don’t ever change.

“Move on, Kanako? Why!” Yoongi shouts.

I sit up from my seat, planting my hands on the table angrily, “Because I loved you! I had just started to and I knew I had to stop if I was ever going to heal! Don’t you get that? I was in an abusive relationship at eighteen years old, I didn’t even know half of the things that happened to me really did happen! I coped the best way I could, so fuck you for blaming eighteen year old me!” I breathe heavily after I finish. The bowl of rice has toppled over all over my feet but I’m too angry to notice. This is what I needed to say after all these years. This is my honest truth. I’ve freed myself of the guilt I’ve held for all these years.

Yoongi stays quiet, his gaze on mine as I stay above him. Namjoon looks at me too, aghast. I feel relieved but so big at the same time. Like a monster.

“Kanako…” Yoongi whispers. “I know, I-I’m sorry. That was…” His voice trails off.

I feel tears trickling down my face and wipe them quickly, slumping back down on the seat. Instead of running away, I stay. This time I will stay.

JULY 10TH, 2023, 9:00PM

Yoongi ended up paying for dinner, even with how much of a slight disaster it turned out to be. We ended up continuing talking, rather casually, after our argument. It was the best I could do without leaving again. I wanted to stay there and fix things. But it was better to ignore it.

Jungkook and Jimin stand outside, clearly done with a deep talk. Jungkook is smoking once again. I feel like I should say something about it, maybe even a joke. But I’m not sure if that’s my place anymore. Was it ever?

“Hey guys. Kanako. Sorry about that.” Jimin apologizes weakly. It’s obvious he’s sobered up a bit from the last time I saw him, but even under the street lights I can see he has a long way to go.

“Don’t worry about it.” I promise him. Jungkook throws down his cigarette like he’s done it a million times before. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks over to me, eyeing the sky. His familiar unwillingness for eye-contact is more obvious than ever.

“Hi Jungkook.” I say as he approaches me.

He looks over to the boys behind me, hesitant to speak. “I understand now. I can’t imagine at that age having to go through what you did.” He confesses. He pulls me in for a random but pleasant hug. His body is much more solid than I remember, not as easy to hold, but his scent has stayed the same. How is that even possible?

I accept the embrace and wrap my arms around him tightly, having to hold back tears. This feels so nice. I missed this. I wasted years longing for it again. There’s still an unanswered question of what exactly Jimin meant, but I let it slide. I let my mind clear completely to enjoy the present.

“I missed you so much Jungkook.” I muffle into his chest. My eyes water.

“Stay with me tonight. W-With us. Like old times.” He whispers as his head sits on top of mine.

My body is lit like a furnace. It’s comforting this time, not intense. They can read my mind so easily. I want to, I have to. For one night before they leave, I will.

“Okay.”

click here to read more of this story!

a/n: I know nothing about grown up jobs or how they work!!! keep that in mind dear god!!!

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mygloviesme · 6 months

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hey all!! I know I’m still gaining traction to my story, but don’t be afraid to ask questions!

cool about it is coming to a close soon and I’d love to answer any questions you have or have wondered about the story! love you <3

#you don’t have to #that’s totally fine too #idk what questions I would even ask #but I thought it’d be fun

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mygloviesme · 6 months

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cool about it, eleven years later. || myg

no. 1 of 3: not strong enough to be your man

predebut/debut!yoongi x female idol

(definitely inspired by boygenius)

word count: 4.5k

genre: ANGST, fluff, melodrama,

chapter warnings: mentions of mental health, drinking, smoking

inspo song: cool about it by boygenius

JULY 9TH, 2023, 12:12PM

ELEVEN YEARS LATER

Bright. Everything is way too bright. I groan and flip over my side, unable to ignore the throbbing in my head. I feel Keiko shove my side, “Koko, wake up. It’s noon.” She says. I lift my head to peak above the white comforter, squinting as I see her sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I got way too fucked up last night.” I muffle under the sheets.

“Yeah I think you’re getting too old for that.”

“Tellmeaboutit.”

I definitely cannot handle my liquor the same way I could in my twenties. Ages twenty to twenty four was filled with sprite vodkas. And as I got older, just smelling alcohol made me hunch over and gag. But last night was different. I had been taking advantage of the connections I still have from being an idol so many years ago, getting invited to various up-scale parties and soirees. Some are fancy, some are trashy. Most of them being held by washed up celebrities that wanted everybody and anybody to come rager with them.

But lately K-pop has been on the rise so my name get’s brought up every once in a while. They ignore the controversy that’s stapled to my name, instead calling me an ‘icon’ and ‘so ahead of your time.’ It would be more flattering if my past hadn’t been so chaotic.

“I brought you a breakfast sandwich.” She says and tosses me the paper-wrapped food item. The smell of egg radiates off of it though, which in turn makes me jump from the bed and to the bathroom. I collapse onto the floor and grip the toilet, gross I know but I’m too old to be embarrassed anymore, my throat pushing out chunky acid.

“Oh honey.” Keiko comforts me as she holds my hair up. I spit up the remaining vomit that sat in my mouth and lean myself on the bathroom wall, holding my knees. “Jesus.” I breathe.

“Didn’t mean to trigger that.” She apologizes.

“It’s okay, I’m actually starving but I don’t think I can consume anything.”

She brings over a glass of water from the counter, “Maybe you should try this.” She says sarcastically. I roll my eyes as I take the cup, downing the whole thing. My throat is scratchy and painful but I use that as another reason to finish it.

She sighs and flushes the toilet for me, plopping the lid down and taking a seat on it. She messes with her fingers, obviously holding something back. She’s usually a very chatty person no matter the circumstances. So the fact that she hasn’t made a joke or a comment about this current situation makes me sure she has something to say.

“What is it?” I mumble.

She perks her head up, pretending to be confused. I know her too well. “What do you mean?”

“Keiko. Spit it out. Or I’ll do it for you, on your feet.” I threaten playfully. I’m not very nervous to hear what she has to say, knowing it can’t be all that bad. It’s probably work, or maybe even “weird Charlie” the guy that texts her once in a while to hook up. I let out a soft ‘ugh’ and make a grossed-out expression, “Did you hook up with Charlie? Keiko, I told-”

“They released a book. Today. And they talk about you. Jungk- uh- he does.”

No fucking way.

“You’re kidding.”

“No. I bought it. Sorry. It was a good thirty-something dollars though, and they actually go in depth about their trainee-”

I nudge her leg with my hand aggressively, “Show me! Now!” I shout.

“Jeez, okay! Hold on.” She pulls out her phone and swipes through it for a couple minutes. She winces as she clicks on something, “Okay, just don’t freak out.”

I shake my hand so she could hand me her phone, which she does.

“I highlighted the-”

“Shh!”

I read it reluctantly.

Jungkook: I met Kanako back in 2012. She was very sweet and a bit reserved, but we grew to be very close friends. We all hung out with her constantly during that hard time. She was there for us and we were there for her. It was a very beneficial dynamic with nothing in-between. I know she wanted to continue her education and we all respected that. I do miss her at times, and I hope she’s doing well.

“Nothing in between…” I whisper as I bring my hand down to the floor. It would be a lie to say I never thought about them. Or Yoongi. That would be the biggest lie I’ve ever told. But it’s been so, so long. In a way, I’ve moved on.

What made it all harder was their faces plastered on so many billboards and posters and Youtube ads and-

You get it. Once that began in 2017, it was brought back to the surface. All the calls I ignored, all the times they did concerts here and I stayed in bed all day knowing I could buy a ticket the same day. Never reaching out. Mourning the life that never was, then feeling the shame that I couldn’t let go. In my darkest hours I still wish I was there. But I would never admit that, maybe not even to my therapist. It’s all so juvenile.

And they’re different now. Much different than when I knew them. I saw Jungkook’s tattoos just a while ago and couldn’t recognize him. He’s not a boy anymore. Not the one I knew, not physically. And Yoongi…

“I know honey. It’s awful.”

“I guess the NDA expired four years ago, but since they never said anything I just thought it wouldn’t come up. I hoped it wouldn’t. Did anyone else say anything?” I ask, knowing she knew who exactly I was talking about.

She shakes her head, “He didn’t.”

I press my back into the wall and exhale, “This cannot be happening right now.”

Keiko stands and seats herself next to me, placing a hand on mine. She knows how I get, we’ve lived together for so long. I don’t think anyone has known me better than her besides my mom. And you know who.

“I know, Koko. But think about it, they probably just wanted to say something once and for all. Nothing attached.”

I look at her with a guilty face, “Is it bad if I wish there was? Something attached, I mean.”

She hums, “Maybe not. But it doesn’t change anything. Let’s leave the past alone, yeah?”

I hang my head low and nod. She knows what I want but especially what I need. It was an ongoing thing for the first few years I lived with her. Constant panic attacks and days where I wouldn’t move from my bed. The day they released their first album and I replayed their performances over and over again. When I thought they took out ‘Just One Day’, just for it to be released later. That day was horrible.

I don’t think I can admit how many times I played that song. If it were now, it would be my number one played song in my spotify wrapped.

Don’t even get me started when they released ‘Butterfly.’ Let’s just say that song is forever banned in our house, along with the rest of them. Any mention of those three letters and I need to be dragged out and tranquilized.

That’s why I like to mind my own. Go to work, ignore the billboards. Scroll on my phone, ignore their instagrams. Turn on the TV, ignore their performances.

When I heard about Jin enlisting and Hoseok joining later on, I wanted to call them. To ask how they were. It’s been too long. I’ve never mustered the courage the past eleven years and now it just feels pointless.

But I still have their number. I still have them all memorized in my head and written down on old sticky notes that collect dust in my closet.

“We still have that thing to go to tonight.”

“Somi’s birthday party?”

“Yup.”

Fuck.

JULY 9TH, 2023, 8:00PM

I finish my makeup off with a shiny lip gloss, my staple for four years now. I don’t like change necessarily, and smelling the familiar fruity scent brings comfort. Or trauma, thinking of all the nights I would smear it on my lips after vomiting for ten minutes straight in a random club bathroom.

Me and alcohol have a complicated relationship. Some would say it was teetering over alcoholism, I would call it a phase. It was my twenties, what can I say?

“You look amazing.” Keiko says as she walks through the bathroom door. She lifts up her skirt to take a quick pee, “No underwear again?” I laugh as I watch her roll her eyes.

“This is the first night in a while I’m not being chained to the corporate desk. Let’s just say I hope I get lucky.” She says and finishes up. I shake my head playfully and scoot over the bathroom counter so she can wash her hands. I analyze my outfit once more, shimmying my top up so I can get a little more coverage. Everything about my body has changed since eighteen, obviously.

I keep an anti-chafe stick in my purse if that tells you anything. That second-puberty in your twenties does exist, unfortunately.

Keiko pouts as she turns around to look at her butt, “I thought this skirt would make me look perkier.”

I tilt my head to her butt and back to the mirror, “I think it does.” I say in my humble opinion. Keiko is a sight for sore eyes, she always has been. She would be one of those people that you consider to age like fine wine. And she has been experimenting with lip filler, but hey. If you have the money, why not?

I pucker my lips and look down to my phone, flashing a notification indicating our Uber has arrived. “Our ride is here, let’s go.” I urge her. I grab my purse and toss my lip gloss inside, rushing to the door. She huffs, “You’re acting like I was the one spending an hour doing my makeup.”

I glare at her as I open the door, “Not every twenty-nine year old still has that youthful glow you do. Ms. Just Some Concealer and Gel Brows.” I tease. We speed-walk down the hall and I can feel her irritated energy, “You were an idol in South Korea. I don’t wanna hear it!” She exclaims.

I giggle to myself and we hurry down the stairs of our semi-nice apartment complex. It definitely beats the one we first lived in, but New York is an expensive place to live in. Even with Keiko’s old money background. She’s tried to let go of their help with monthly payments, as we’re nearly thirty and it’s a little embarrassing now. This place will drain your pockets like it’s no one’s business so…she still asks for money now and then.

We take the elevator down to the parking garage, seeing the Uber we soon jump into. Tonight calls for a drink or two, especially with the news I got earlier. So no driving for the both of us.

Maybe I’ll even meet someone new. Or two. You never know, right?

JULY 9TH, 2023, 9:02PM

With the busy NYC traffic, we make it an hour later than expected. The birthday party is being held in a private club in Soho, so I know me and Keiko are in for a treat. I have less anxiety being around other celebrities and social climbers, most of them not knowing who I am anyway. But lately I’ve been getting noticed a lot more lately, even some paparazzi stop to take my photo at times.

Small articles pop up here and there with my name in it, and I can’t even imagine what they’ll look like tomorrow morning. The three-lettered boy group I used to know being a household name at this point. I have mixed feelings about it, but mostly happiness. Thinking of how stressed they were about their success, only to make it to Western audiences. Even getting a grammy nomination. I was tuned in, not going to lie.

They should’ve gotten it, but anyway.

I don’t think I wanna think about them tonight, so Keiko and I head to the bar as soon as we get in. The lights are pretty low, making it hard to see faces that clearly. I feel a hand on my arm, turning around to see the one and only Somi.

“You guys made it!” She shouts over the loud music. She takes us both in a big hug, giggling and yelping. She’s definitely had a few drinks.

“Yes, of course.” I smile at her. She gestures to the bartender, “Shots! Let’s get fucked up!” She screams. I see Keiko flinch slightly, giving me a nervous grin in response to the young girl's enthusiasm. I only laugh playfully as the bartender places three small cups in front of us, filled to the brim with what I assume to be vodka.

Somi doesn’t wait a second to grab her glass, waiting for us to follow. Me and Keiko do so reluctantly but excited nonetheless. “One, two, now!” Somi giggles and we all drink down the burning liquid.

Keiko slams her glass down and makes a sour face, Somi expressionless. It must be her age. I think it's barely legal for her to drink in the US.

I put my glass on the table and Somi kisses both Keiko and I on the cheek, “Kay, I’m gonna go dance and stuff. Have fun, there’s loads of people here! And by the way, I think some special guests are gonna arrive. So keep an eye out!” She squeals and runs away before I can ask exactly who.

Keiko chuckles, “I think she’s talking about Mark and stuff.”

“From NCT?” I furrow my brows. I can’t keep up.

Keiko nods, “I’ve been texting her and she tells me they’ve been talking.”

I jolt my head back in shock, “That’s kind of risky.”

Keiko shrugs as she hands me my drink, this time a mixed cocktail. “Idols are crazy nowadays.”

It makes me think about him. I think idols have always taken risks. I did.

I sigh and turn to the crowd of people chatting and dancing. There’s some familiar faces, but when are there not? This time it’s more relevant celebrities, ‘it’ girls as the tabloids call them. A part of me misses being that young, but I think I appreciate my age more now. I know more, I react maturely. I’m doing great for the most part. Although I’ve been aching for some action with any guy for a while now. Emphasis on any guy. It calls for some shaming from Keiko, but I’ll leave that for after the damage is done.

Keiko is handed her own drink and nods to the dance floor, “C’mon, let’s have fun.” She gives me a smile and I go along happily. We walk towards the mass, seeing all kinds of bodies rocking against each other. The deeper you get in with celebrities, the more erotic and messy it seems to get. Don’t ask the stories I’ve heard.

Keiko grabs me closer and we sway with each other to the music. The bass is deafening and I only hope chugging my drink makes it more bearable. It’s salty and sweet and blazing, amplifying the feeling of this hot club. There’s something about being in a crowded group. We all have the same mission, the same motive. We’re all dancing in clothes that cost as much as our overpriced rent, spilling drops of liquor and bodily fluid on the material without a care.

It’s a nasty headspace, but it’s so addicting to get caught in. Especially when it’s just me and Keiko, not needing a man but only each other. I was the one who introduced her to nightlife and she was very hesitant at first. She wasn’t used to the lights or the drinks but just like me, once she got into a groove, the right drink, the right people, we didn’t stop. Every Saturday till 4am we’d be out. And that was for a few years straight.

Once you vomit mid-way into every night out, it becomes more of a relief. Because that means you can just keep going. Bad habit or not, it was so fucking fun.

But now we’re nearly thirty. We pace ourselves like responsible adults. Most of the time.

“Do you want another drink?” I ask as I see we’ve drunk both of ours in a matter of fifteen minutes on this dance floor. Keiko grins mischievously, “You know me so well Koko.” She shouts in my ear. I laugh and grab the glass in her hand, rethinking leaving her here.

“Uh, actually come with me. Don’t want some grimy guy to come up to you.”

She nods in agreement and we both snake ourselves out of the flock of sweaty bodies. The bar glows in front of us with isles of liquor, waiting to be sipped on. Keiko turns to me as we wait for the bartender to finish up with someone else’s drink, “I saw a guy I liked.”

I raise my brows, “Is that so? Who?”

She peaks over my shoulder, “I mean I can’t really see what he looks like because of how fucking dark it is, but it’s that one over there.” She points slightly.

I try to slyly look to who she’s referencing, seeing a man with a loose short-sleeved button up and an arm filled with tattoos. His head is leaned over as he’s talking to another man and I give Keiko a look.

“What?” She throws her hands in the air.

“I mean his body is nice but I didn’t think you were wanting a-”

“Shh, he’s coming over here! Wait-” She covers her mouth in shock.

I widen my eyes from her alarming expression, “What is it?”

“Kanako don’t fucking look. DON’T LOOK.” She insists. I grow frustrated from her demands and keep my head down, per her ask. I feel an approaching presence, a voice speaking.

“Gin, neat.” It says. A man.

I lean over to Keiko who’s attempting to hide her face. “Is it the guy? Why can’t I look?” I do a whisper/yell type thing as I talk.

She winces, “Just wait for him to leave.”

The female bartender walks over to us, waiting for our drink order. I notice Keiko’s silence and the impatient bartender, lifting my head once and for all to speak. Keiko shakes her head vigorously with her eyes closed like she can’t bear to watch. I don’t understand why she’s so afraid. And quite frankly, it’s getting annoying.

“Two vodka cranberries.” I say.

There’s a beat of quietness.

“Kanako?” The man next to me says. I turn my head unexpecting a big reveal, but to my surprise, it is. A big one. One that I don’t want. He’s so different. His hair is long, his body is taller and so much bigger than I remember. It’s him, it’s him. Fuck, it’s him. Eleven years later.

My jaw drops as I make eye contact with him. “Jungkook.”

He’s as appalled as I am, saying nothing for what feels like hours. His eyes scan my body, my face, my eyes. “You- I haven’t- what…are you doing here?” He chokes out.

I stutter, “W-We- I’m with my friend. Keiko. We know…Somi.” I respond, the information feeling so irrelevant as it rolls off my tongue. There’s so many things I want to say, and yet nothing comes to mind. What should I do? Apologize? Talk to him like an old friend? Look at Keiko for help?

Jungkook moves his shoulder to reveal the man next to him, Namjoon.

This can’t get any worse.

“I’ll leave you to it. Call me if you…need me.” Keiko leans into my ear to say. I try to nod but my body refuses to move. I don’t necessarily need her here, but It makes me feel stranded. I can’t say anything. All I can think about is eleven years ago. Their faces were so different. The way they carried themselves was so different. They’re global artists now, but when I look at Jungkook I still see that young glimmer he used to have. Even Namjoon, whose shoulders are broader than they were, somehow morphs into the smaller boy I knew then.

“L-Let’s go outside. It’s quieter.” Jungkook requests.

JULY 9TH, 2023, 10:06PM

We stand outside the club doors awkwardly. Jungkook grabs a carton of cigarettes and pulls one out, lighting it as it sits between his teeth. That’s new. He holds the white stick in his fingers and takes a long inhale, exhaling into the summer air.

Namjoon is staring off into the road. Quiet. They’re both quiet.

“How’ve you guys been?” I whisper. Everything I want to say sounds so stupid in the big scheme of things. I feel so small again. So insecure again. Old Kanako.

“You know.” He says, referencing their current status. It sounds kind of dick-ish, but I shrug it off. I don’t blame him for being mad. Although it’s been so long.

I keep getting a phantom buzz in my back pocket. When I first moved here, I’d get calls from Jungkook every morning and every night. Ignored, ignored, ignored. He stopped after a few months, but the feeling still haunts me. Witnessing my phone light up and expecting to see his name was a thing for me. A thing I’d go over in therapy.

I always said I’d pick up one day, but when that day came, he stopped calling.

“I’m sorry.” I say in the midst of the quietude. Stating the unspoken obvious.

“Don’t be sorry.” Jungkook responds, flicking the ash off his cigarette. Passive.

“I still am.” I mumble.

Namjoon turns over to me, still hiding behind Jungkook in a way. His arm leans onto the brick wall, “We’ve been wondering about you.”

I chuckle, “Yeah, I read your book.”

Jungkook takes a hit off his cigarette, “I didn’t really say that. It was the ghostwriter.” Aggressive.

Thanks.

“Oh. Right.” I whisper.

“Jungkook.” Namjoon mutters to the apathetic boy.

Jungkook shrugs, “Sorry. I’m over it now.” Doesn’t feel like it.

“What he means to say,” Namjoon gives him a look, “Is that we’ve moved on. And grown. Don’t feel bad. We now know how hard it was for you.” He tries to reassure. But I know it’d take Jungkook a while to say the same. I try not to take it personally, but all I can think about is how he’d cling to me at night. How he used to sip on his banana milk and console me with kind words. I shouldn’t expect that in the least. But it hurts either way.

“I understand, it’s okay. It’s complicated, right?” I say.

“Right.” Namjoon smiles. His dimples, I remember those.

“Yoongi’s doing fine, if that’s what you were wondering.” Jungkook says under his breath.

I shut my eyes, sighing. I try to level with him, “I wonder about all of you. But thanks.” I accidentally match his passive tone.

The tattooed boy tosses his cigarette on the ground, smushing it under his shoe.

“Then why didn't you reach out?” He spits. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth. One that trickles down to my throat and almost triggers a chunky reaction.

“JK, not now-” Namjoon starts but Jungkook has a motive.

“No, Namjoon.” Jungkook whips his head towards me, “I’m still hurt. Yes, after all these years. Seeing you Kanako,” He bites his lip anxiously. “I wish you had fucking picked up. Just once.”

My lip quivers seeing him in this state. Small, like me. There’s tears pricking his eyes.

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not? Tell me!”

“It would’ve made it all harder!”

He steps inches closer to me, his lip ring shining under the street lights. He’s so foreign to me, but his eyes stay familiar. An unwanted nostalgia floods my heart and crushes it under his gaze.

“You don’t even know.” He whispers.

I plead with him, “Then tell me.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw, “Fuck it. Fuck everything. Fuck you.”

He storms back into the club, shoulder-checking me in the process. I stand idle, in shock. In pain. He would’ve never said that to me. Not in a million years. Am I that horrible of a person?

Namjoon walks over to me quickly, caressing my shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, he’s just-”

“Hurt. I know. I know.” I say in disbelief.

His hand stands on my arm, looking at me intently. But I can’t look at him, it’s all so hard now. Everything is coming back to me. Locked up in those dorms, Jeju, the first time I’ve ever been to a club. How quickly it ended. How quick it was for me that I left. I know I shouldn’t be mad at Jungkook, or any of them. But I feel like the teenager I was back then when Namjoon comforts me. It reminds me of those times when they’d be there for me.

How hard it was for me to accept care from Keiko because all I wanted was them. It wasn’t the same. The smells weren’t the same. The lingering bickering was my background music. I adjusted to it so well just to leave. I can’t think about this anymore.

I hear a ringing and Namjoon removes his hand to reach into his jacket pocket, stuttering a ‘I-I just need a second, hold on’ before walking a few steps ahead to answer the call. All I hear is a faint voice on the phone and a hasty Namjoon.

“Yeah I know. He’s upset. I’ll talk to you about it later. Me? I’m outside. N-No don’t come, it’s not a good time. I know, but just a second. Hold on, don’t-”

The metal doors of the club open once more, a woman in a two-piece set strutting out with someone close behind. As if this night couldn’t get any worse. Reminding me of the broken pieces I had to put back into place. It’s all shattering again.

I purse my lips in a thin line and turn my back as soon as I see him. Long haired, bomber-jacket, black jeans, him. I hope he doesn’t see me. Namjoon rushes over to me in an attempt to hide my body.

“S-Sorry. Busy. In the middle of something.” The tall man blurts out.

It failed though, because he knows. My silhouette, my hair.

Like instinct. Nothing’s changed.

“Kanako.” The oh-so familiar man breathes.

Keiko has been calling me Koko for so long that hearing my full name from him, his mouth, causes a chain reaction of goosebumps all over me. The alcohol that was seeping into my conscience has disappeared as my heart beats a thousand times a minute.

“Yoongi.”

click here to read more of this story!

an: as this story comes to a close soon I’d love to answer any questions you have wondered about this story! or me! or anything at all! just go to my ask box and ask away! or don’t! that’s ok too! love you all! thanks for reading

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mygloviesme · 6 months

Text

cool about it. || myg

no. 17: I’ll pretend being with you doesn’t feel like drowning

predebut/debut!yoongi x female idol

summary: kanako is an established idol with a growing career and a secret relationship with a producer from her label, haneul. when she’s asked to work with yoongi and rm to create a track for her, she gains unexpected feelings for a certain upcoming rapper. with her increasing fame, her controlling boyfriend, a set of six boys who seem to have grown an attachment to her, and a new boy who’d give her the world, how will she figure out a way to balance it all?

(definitely inspired by boygenius)

word count: 4.9k

genre: ANGST, friends(?) to lovers, slow burn, fluff

chapter warnings: toxic relationship (not w/myg), mentions of mental health

inspo song: cool about it by boygenius

MARCH 30TH, 2012, 3:09AM

It’s been too long. We’ve been here too long. The night is coming to an end, so why is everything starting? What happened? I can’t get out. All I feel is my life coming to an unfortunate halt. I can’t go back to square one, I have too many times. I’d rather just-

“Well this is something.” Haneul says. The woman next to him has her arms crossed like she’s annoyed or upset. I don’t care, though. I don’t care about anything right now. I just want to leave. I look at Yoongi who’s looking at me, as if he knows that I’m falling apart.

I can never be happy. I can never enjoy life here.

“Just let us go, yeah?” Yoongi spits, attempting to push past the taller man. Haneul doesn’t let him, noticing the hickey that I placed on Yoongi’s neck just moments prior. I feel myself tense up, my breath reaching its end. My mouth curls slightly upside down like a child. Because that’s what he makes of me. I feel so small compared to him. What should I say? How can I disappear from his towering presence that is so familiar to me? How can I clean myself of the grime he left?

Haneul shakes his head, “So this is what you’re up to, huh? Then why are all the tabloids saying you’re so broken you can’t even leave your dorm? Do you think they know you’ve been whoring ar-” He’s blown to the side, bumping into the girl with the black dress as he keeps his body propped up. Namjoon stands next to him, breathing heavily and breathing fast. I scan his body to meet with his fist, shaking.

Yoongi holds my hand but I jerk back, completely thrown off by this whole situation. My body feels too sensitive to be touched. I feel too dissociative to be brought back down to reality.

Haneul stands back up, leaning his arm to throw a punch right back at Namjoon. I place my hand over my mouth, unbelieving that this is actually happening. And this is how it chooses to unfold. Not even a text, a random call from him, this. Is this what I deserve? Is this what some power, whatever it is, thinks I deserve? Soon enough they’re tackling each other relentlessly, tossing and turning. It’s so hard to look away but I know I can’t leave, but I don’t know what to do.

I see Yoongi trying to reach for Namjoon to break him away but has no luck, Namjoon is obviously determined to finish whatever he has planned out in his head. And I’m scared to figure out what it is. They’re both doing damage to each other until Namjoon gets his way on top of Haneul. He grabs Haneul’s head and bangs it down on the club floor only once, his chest moving up and down quickly as Haneul lies there breathlessly.

“Namjoon…” I whisper. He looks up to me and gulps, seeing the tears that are falling down my face. Once I cry I don’t stop, not ever. This time they’re uncontrollable and loud and they don’t wait for anyone. Seeing Namjoon’s reddened cheeks and Haneul’s stricken-face is enough for me to leave. I don’t bother stopping for Yoongi or Namjoon who yell my name out continuously.

I don’t look back, I keep running. I forget that the end of the hallway is met with the crowd of people that block the passageway to the exit. I push and shove through the crowd, being extra careless about who I hurt in the process. All I can think is to get out. Running away, never coming back. There’s snot dribbling down my upper lip and I’m sure my makeup is ruined.

When I’ve come to the end of the dance floor I see the glowing bar that has my jacket hanging off a stool. I grab it as I run to the door, not knowing who could be outside. Who could see me like this, again. Again, again, again.

Seeing Haneul and hearing him speak was the breaking point. I wish it could’ve stayed a bad memory. Something I could surely heal from and was in the process of doing so. But I wasn’t meant to heal. I’m not meant to stay here. I know that now. With every chance I truly gave myself came something bad in return. I’m the curse.

The cold March air hits the tip of my nose as I run up the stairs, goosebumps trailing all over my body. I throw my jacket on with haste, smelling Yoongi’s familiar scent. If only this, he, was enough to make me forget Haneul. But he isn’t. God, he isn’t. No one or nothing can ever fix me. I’m so sure of it now.

I’m a few steps away from the club until I freeze in my tracks. All I can think about is Jungkook, about where he was. Why am I thinking about him? Why is he the only thing I can focus on? I turn on my heels to run back to the club until someone else jumps out of the club doors. But it’s not Jungkook, it’s another boy. The person that I cannot be talking to right now.

“Yoongi, please. I really can’t-”

“Let me come with you. I can walk you home and make sure you’re safe, I’m sor-”

“Please just leave me alone, please.”

“Kanako hear me out-”

“STOP!” I shout at him. His head tilts back in shock. But still, he inches closer. He’s still trying.

Stop trying.

I give myself a moment to tranquilize. I don’t feel calm whatsoever, but I can’t speak like that to him or anyone. But I don’t want to open up, I don’t want to let him in ever again. The ticking time bomb I always thought I portrayed had finally exploded. My cup has been tipped over the brim. Whatever metaphor it is, I know I’ve finally given up.

“I n-need time alone. To think.” I say, now quietly. There’s tears pricking his eyes as he stops trying to move towards me, making my heart break. His hands look like they’re shaking for my touch. His feet look like they want to walk me home. His lips look like they want to kiss me goodnight. But I can’t have that. Not anymore. This is what is good for me, this is what I need.

“No, Kanako. You need someone to help you. And I can do that. I’m here for you.” He pleads.

The cars passing by are muted in my ears, his words isolated in the vicinity of us. Seoul seems so quiet tonight, but I think I’m just having a hard time comprehending life outside of this. My forehead pounds with how hard I’m crying, the sensation feeling almost unbearable.

I choke out a sob, “N-No, Yoongi. Stay away from me. I can’t be here anymore.”

“What do you mean by that? D-Do you want to break up with me?”

His words sound so small compared to my thoughts. Compared to what I’m thinking. Don’t say it Kanako, don’t say-

“I’m leaving Korea.” I blurt out. It’s something my brain wants, to push him away further. To forget about me. I want him to hate me. Feel anything but sympathy, it’ll make this easier.

He shakes his head, “What- What do you mean by that, Kanako? What are you saying?”

My bottom lip quivers and I look away from him, staring at the sky. “I signed up for an abroad program in America. I’m leaving.” I admit. I can’t bear to look at him at this moment. But a voice makes me have to, a small one. One that belongs to someone who was one of the reasons I stayed.

“You’re leaving?” A muggy Jungkook asks. His face is still red from dancing in the club and his shirt clings to his body with sweat. He looks struck, lost. All I want to do is hug him but I can’t. Not as long as I’m the one doing the hurting. He doesn’t deserve that.

My eyes soften, more tears. “I-I…”

Yoongi is aggrieved now. He laughs just like I have times before, manically.

“Tell him, Kanako.” He speaks bitterly. It cuts through me just like this sharp, cold night. I feel it like a piece of sheet metal on my throat as the words roll off my tongue with hesitation. “I’m so sorry, Jungkook. I’m so sorry, I have to.” I cry out, almost begging for his forgiveness. He looks just like the small boy he is at this moment. Like he’s crawling into a safe, confined space to be protected. Every part of me wants to reach for both of them, to tell them it was all a lie. But I can’t take it back. The words have been said, and I’m now the worst person alive. It’s okay, this is how it was always supposed to happen. Morbid and cruel, just like me.

Jungkook is too distraught to say anything and he steps away little by little. Like I’m hurting him, like he’s afraid of me. Those doe-eyes, they’re now fearful.

Yoongi walks towards him and gives him a tight embrace, leaving me to my own accord. All I can think to do is to walk away. I turn my back and wrap my jacket around myself, knowing I’ll never be able to forgive myself for not going back.

I’ll never forgive myself.

MARCH 30TH, 2012, 7:12AM

I slept for one hour. It wasn’t until I heard the rest of the boys open and close their dorm doors that I awoke, hoping to hear a knock or two on my door. But it never came. Not one. I waited for an hour, hoping they’d have a change of heart.

But I’ve been awake ever since and staring at my ceiling. No noise whatsoever, just succumbing to my self-destructive thoughts. Imagining this night repeatedly. The drinking, the dancing, Yoongi’s lips on me, Haneul’s cologne, Namjoon’s shaky fist, Jungkook’s heartbroken expression. It goes in that order. Sometimes I remember certain details and it makes my body tense up and I start crying all over again with no one to hold me this time.

Then I think about this past year. I replay those memories to dig the metaphorical knife deeper. Haneul, Yoongi, the boys, Jeju, back to Seoul. That order isn’t very specific though. I get flashes of Yoongi’s smile or Seokjin’s bickering once in a while and curl my body into a fetal position, hoping the self-soothing would work better this time. It never does.

There’s so much loss. So much pain.

I decided to finally open my phone during the night, after all these months. Just to make myself feel worse, honestly. Loads of texts and missed calls from people I haven’t heard from in years. Texts from Haneul, calling me all the names I bet he wishes he said aloud tonight. The news coverage doesn’t hurt me as much anymore but it does validate the thoughts I have about myself. I spent another ten minutes crying while looking through everything everyone has been saying until I reached a text message from a name I haven’t heard in years.

Keiko. An old grade-school friend I had in Japan. She knew me before my mother passed, she knew who I was before any of this happened.

Keiko: Koko, so nice to not see your face on the TV for once. I know that sounds so weird but I had a feeling I needed to tell you that. How are you doing? How’s life? I’m in New York now, interning at a publishing place. So cool, right? Not as cool as being an idol though. Let’s talk sometime!

She used to call me Koko. Something my mom said once that Keiko heard and loved ever since. My heart aches to talk like a child with her again. I want to sit on the floor with crayons and laugh about how funny each other’s drawings were. I want to make mud pies in her backyard and have her mother scold both of us for getting so dirty. I want to have a princess-themed birthday party and invite all my friends over. I want to go back.

I’ve been staring at the text for an hour now, wondering if I should call her. It’s much too early, and she’s probably working. I don’t want to bother her. Isn’t it mid-day for her? I’ll seem so weird calling her at this hour, my time. But why is my thumb hovering over the call button? And why do I click it? I don’t expect her to answer. She has better things to do, like not calling me. I press my phone against my ear and tear-stained cheek, feeling the vibration of the call ringing against my skin.

“Ah, Koko?” I hear her as she picks up. Hearing her call me that gives me a sense of relief for some reason.

I sniffle, attempting to sound fine. “Keiko, you picked up.”

“Yes of course. Jeez, how are you?” I hear her smiling. I can see her face now. I used to stalk her instagram so I know she had cut her hair short a bit ago. She always had long hair which made people say we looked alike often. But she cut it. She let go.

“I-I’m good. I’m good. How are you?” I ask, hearing the quietness on the other line. It doesn’t sound like she’s busy. That makes me feel less of a burden.

“I’m good. I’ve been wondering about you.”

“Oh. Have you?”

“Yes, of course.” She says again, “I was just thinking about that time my mom got so mad at us for making mud-pies in my backyard. You remember that?”

She says that as if it isn’t breaking me into a million pieces more. I hold my chest tightly as I begin crying again. Again.

“Yes…I do. That was so-” I let out a choke.

“Oh, Koko. What’s wrong? You don’t sound okay.”

I shake my head as if she’s here, looking at me. “N-No don’t worry about me. I’m alright.”

“You sure?”

It takes everything in me to say the next seven words, “Actually, I don’t think I’m okay, Keiko.”

I want to apologize. I don’t feel deserving of comfort right now, but I need it. I need to be reminded there was a time before all of this.

“What’s happening?”

I sob into the phone, “I-I really miss my mom. I miss not being here. I wish you could know what’s going on because I don’t know if I’m strong enough to recount everything that’s happened right now.”

She lets out a small breath. “I know…that it must be…hard. Without her. I know how close you guys were. I’m so sorry Kanako.” She’s being sincere. Like she’s stopped what she’s doing to tell me that.

“I think I’m going to leave Korea.”

“Really?”

“Yeah…I signed up for an abroad program. It’s actually in New York too, but it’s at a community college. It sounds great, I just don’t know if I should leave.”

“Why is that?”

I wipe the tears from my face and stare at the pink ribbon that lays on my side table. The one he wanted me to put in my hair. I look at the scar on my hand, faint but there. When he rushed to aid me. I feel his kiss on my skin. When he loved me hard, hard, hard.

“There’s someone. Multiple people. I met them all here. I love them, but I love this one person especially much.” I say through my croaky voice. My throat has been abused by my sobs and shouts and screaming. Also, I’m still in the same clothes. I’ve been rotting in my bed ever since I left the club.

“Oh, I see. But Koko, this isn’t about him right?”

“What do you mean?”

She hums, “Well it’s about what you need. Do you need to leave but want him?”

I turn over on my back, my phone still against my ear with my hand. “I think I need him.”

She’s silent for a moment. “You have time to come back to him.”

She confuses me once again, “Come back to him? I can’t ask him to wait for me.”

“Well I’m not saying that. But if it’s really meant to be, then you can go off on your own to figure out your life and you’ll run into each other again, like fate.. I saw it in a movie once.”

Her logic is a tiny bit flawed but I understand her nonetheless. It makes it easier, the thought of leaving, But it doesn’t take away the guilt. And it’s tremendous, the guilt.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

A beat.

“Hey Koko.”

“Yeah?”

She pauses, “Thanks for calling. I’ve been having a stressful time and it was great to talk to you again.”

I’m caught a bit by surprise, thinking it was only one-sided. But we both needed each other in the end, I suppose. Maybe it was kismet, fate. Maybe.

“You too Keiko.”

“And hey, if you ever end up in the big apple, call me. I’d love to have another tea party.”

I grip the phone tighter,

“Me too, Keiko.”

MARCH 30TH, 2012, 12:00PM

I’m living off of minimal sleep but loads of adrenaline as I sit at the same table with the boys. A conference table. Bang-PD called us in for an emergency meeting, and I assume it’s when he saw Namjoon’s bruises. I’m sure everything came up after that.

PD-nim sits at the end of the table looking more stressed than usual. I look at Namjoon next, who has an almost unreal black-eye forming. It’s not quite at its peak but there’s already bits of purple that’s formed within the last few hours. The rest of his face looks swollen, especially his left cheek. He turns his eyes to me which makes me look away quickly. I’m sure none of them want to talk to me. They’ve made that clear with the painful silence that’s been happening for the past ten minutes.

Or maybe it’s the anxiety about what Bang is going to speak about.

“Kanako…I-I. I’m at a loss, truly.” PD sighs, rubbing his eyes.

I nod slowly, like a dog who’s been caught. An untrained puppy. I’m guilty.

“I’m sorry I kno-”

“We’ve been here to help you throughout this whole process-”

“I know and I’m so gratef-”

“But starting a relationship in the midst of this chaos has proven to me that you’re not serious about your commitment to this company.”

Oh. Ouch.

I can’t help but glance at Yoongi who stares down at his hands. He doesn’t look guilty, he looks like he knows what will happen next. Like they all know what’s going to happen. They’ve been asked here to watch my demise.

“I understand that.” I whisper.

Bang-PD shuffles through his papers and pulls out a small stapled set of paperwork. He’s hesitant at first but hands it over to me eventually. “We can’t allow you to continue here. I’ve been informed that you have plans to leave a-and so I think that makes your current status at this company nonexistent. I’m sorry.” He mutters.

I look down at the papers that are clearly for discharging from this company. One where I won’t be renewing my contract, I’ll be leaving. Once I sign this, it’s final. Everything is dissipating before me.

All these months, these therapy sessions, just for me to leave. This ending is unsatisfying and heartbreaking. It’s so odd how one night can change anything. I’m not even sure if the part of me that wants to leave is the most dominating, but it feels like that’s what everyone else wants me to do. I wonder if there could’ve ever been an alternate ending, one where we all lived happily ever after.

But those never exist, not as long as I’m the protagonist.

And now that Bang knows about me and Yoongi, clearly, means someone had to tell him. And I’m sure it was Yoongi himself. Maybe out of spite, sadness, whatever it was. But I’m not welcome here anymore. I guess my career as an idol ended when it started. I’ve been doomed since the beginning. How unfair is that?

I grab the pen and click the bottom, hovering over where my first signature needs to be placed. Before signing, I look at everyone who sits before me. They’re all watching me at this moment, waiting to see if I’d actually do it. But I will be going down without a fight.

I’m tired of fighting.

I sign the first line, then the second, and third, and so forth. It’s a good five minutes of flipping through all the pages until I’m met with an NDA. I can’t speak about my time here, at least not to anyone important. These months will be a secret. Yoongi, a secret.

“From now on we won’t speak about your time here at BigHit. After we publicly announce your resignation, the boys cannot mention you at any time if asked. And in regards to you, you are not allowed to talk to anyone about your time here.” Bang says.

It’s just like the last time I was in here, when he swore to protect me. But it’s not just about what Haneul did anymore, it’s about what I did to this company. It’d be unrealistic to think that there would ever be a time that they would be proud to know that they were under my success. It’s embarrassing, shameful. I’ve almost ruined their name.

As for Yoongi, I love him so much it physically hurts me to think of the fact that I won’t be able to speak about him. Morning, day, and night I think about him. There’s a tickling in my throat to mention him anytime to anyone at all, a burning desire to express how I feel about him. He was never mine, though. If this is how it was going to end this whole time, there was never an us.

And he’ll be debuting. He can’t have that controversy. He’ll have to act like I never existed either. All of them have to pretend that these past months never happened.

I sign it.

That’s the end of the signatures for now, so I hand Bang the papers back. I click the pen once more and set it on the table, placing my palms face down as an attempt to quiet the shakiness. This can’t be real. I was in this room just three years ago, signing a dotted line to agree to be a part of this company. We celebrated with dinner and laughter that same day. It was so exciting to be signed as their first artist. I guess things change in a way we’d never expect.

“S-So we’ll figure out more of the details later, but for now you have one week to move out of the dorms.” Bang-PD says as he adjusts his glasses.

I shake my head, “My flight is tomorrow morning, so. I’ll be gone. Don’t worry.”

Before breathing in the rest of the energy in the room, I slide myself out of the chair to head for the door. If they won’t speak to me I’d rather cut this off as quickly as I can. Maybe it’ll make it hurt less, that’s where my logic is right now. But I’m grasping at straws, anything that might make me not want to throw myself into incoming traffic.

A part of me hesitates to open the door, hoping, wishing I would hear any of them speak. To

stop me. But that’s selfish and unrealistic, and they all go back to talking about the rest of the meeting. Like I was never here. I wish Yoongi would run over to me and kiss me one last time. But I hurt him, I’m leaving him. I’d rather him hate me than mourn whatever we were.

It’s probably better that way.

MARCH 31ST, 2012, 4:10AM

I wake up early enough to finish cleaning the rest of my room. What was left was just small posters and sticky notes I had planted around my mirror and above my bed. I didn’t want to sleep in a totally barren room so I chose to leave those out for the night. But I’m supposed to be leaving soon, leaving forever.

Now that I’m officially not a part of this company anymore, there’s nothing here for me anymore.

I zip up my hoodie and don’t bother putting my hair up. I’m not even sure if most of the clothes I threw on are clean but I don’t really care. I don’t feel like taking care of myself right now.

Since I’m leaving much earlier than expected, I reached out to Keiko who said I could room with her in her studio apartment. Her parents have always been well-off and since I’ve been living off of a trust-fund type deal, I know I can contribute to payments for a few months. Until I can get back on my feet, despite having zero experience from a proper job. So I’m not sure how that’s going to turn out.

But Keiko is immensely generous. Although her mother was very hesitant with the idea of me staying with her. She heard the news of what happened and wasn’t necessarily on my side. It’s obviously leaked back to Japan but Keiko says my idol status in the states is practically non-existent and I take that as a good thing. K-pop isn’t huge there, I know that. I’ll use that to my advantage for as long as I can.

I grab my suitcases and open my dorm door, the hallway quiet and dark. I still remember the day I moved in here, the day I put all those posters up and folded my clothes in the drawers. When the boys were assigned to the dorm across from me, when I was underneath that bed with Yoongi. He was so close to me that day. I still remember feeling his breath on me.

I delay moving down the hall and let go of my suitcases, reaching for the hyung-lines dorm handle. I feel the coldness of the familiar metal I’ve touched so many times before. Never with hesitation like this, risk. It was always so worth it. Every time I snuck in here to sleep with them, every time I came in to have dinner with them like it was an obvious given.

I turn the handle, finding it unlocked. Just like it always would be, for me. I open it slowly.

I peak my head into the dorm and see all of them sleeping soundly. And to my surprise they’re all here, even the young ones. They’re scattered around the beds and some on the floor. I look to my left to see Yoongi’s bed with another boy next to him. There’s an empty space I used to sleep between them and it’s calling my name for one last hold from the both of them.

I tip-toe to the bed and approach Jungkook who is lying on his side, snoring softly. My hands shake as I touch his shoulder, moving it softly. What am I doing? They don’t want me here. But Jesus, I want to hug them all goodbye. It’s so selfish of me to come in here unwanted but I think a part of me will die on that plane if I leave without a proper goodbye.

This is so selfish, it’s so selfish, it’s so-

“Kanako?” His quiet voice speaks. A flashback of the other night hits me, hard.

“Yes, yes. It’s me.” I try to smile.

And suddenly, he leaps to wrap his arms around me. I let my hands float in the air, unsure if I should reciprocate. But eventually I bring them down to feel the lines of his body, the bare skin because he always sleeps with his shirt off. He says it gets too hot at night.

“I love you, Kanako. Come back soon.” He trembles into my neck, “Please come back soon.” He whispers again. I bite my lip to hold in my cries, smelling his scent one last time. My nose touches the muscle of his shoulder and I hold him tightly. Remember this. Remember how this feels.

“I will, I will.” I reassure him. I see Yoongi toss around in his bed but he doesn’t turn around. Jungkook holds me for a while longer before parting, wiping the tears from his eyes. He looks at Yoongi and then back to me, “He just needs time. We all do. But you'll call me everyday. A-And maybe when I’m older I’ll visit you. And you’ll visit me, right?” He smiles sheepishly.

I bring my thumb to his cheek, drying off the last tear of his.

“I’ll visit you.”

I won’t. I’m not sure if I'll bring myself to pick up his calls. But I’ll keep him close. I’ll keep all of them close to me, even Yoongi who I know can’t look at me. Maybe a small part of me will wait for him forever. Wait for him to turn around and look at me one last time. But for now it’s just his back. I never see his face.

I’ll wait for him, even if he doesn’t wait for me.

click here to read more of this story!

an: ^^ get ready for cool about it: eleven years later

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