chapter one

31 0 0
                                    

01 - Troubles

Hwara's eyes opened to the familiar white ceiling of the hospital room. "Back here again," she thought with a sigh, waking Seokjin up from his sleep.

"Hwara! Gwenchana? How are you feeling?" Seokjin's concern was visible as he stood to check on her.

"I'm fine, hyung. It's not the first time," Hwara reassured him with a smile.

"But it's the eighth time, Hwara. Why aren't you taking your meds regularly?" Seokjin's worry creased his brow.

"Hyung, it's not that I'm not taking the medicine. It's just... you won't understand."

"What won't I understand? And when will you start calling me oppa and not hyung? Are you not a girl?"

Hwara chuckled. "I am, oppa! It's just... 'hyung' feels more comfortable. You know how it is with those schoolgirls and their 'oppas.' I use both, depending on how I feel. You know this..."

"Alright, alright," Seokjin conceded with a smile. "I'll get the doctor. Promise me you'll take your medicine from now on."

"Okay, okay, oppa!" Hwara rolled her eyes playfully.

As Seokjin left, Hwara eased out of bed and walked to the window. Pulling back the curtain, she gazed out at the bustling Los Angeles cityscape. The unsettling hallucination of her friends vanishing lingered in her mind after fainting at her performance, leaving a knot of worry. She whispered to the morning sky, "Oppa-deul, unnie-deul, you're all okay, right?... Bogoshipda..."

...

"Mr. Kim," the doctor called out, beckoning Seokjin to step outside Hwara's room.

"What's the prognosis?" Seokjin inquired, his English tinged with concern.

"Hwara's showing improvement. Her PTSD symptoms are lessening, though stress and insomnia persist. It's crucial for her mental health to manage these issues," the doctor explained. "A visit to South Korea might do her good—familiar faces, the comfort of home."

"I'll arrange it," Seokjin agreed, nodding.

The doctor offered a reassuring smile before departing. Seokjin, deep in thought, turned back to Hwara's room. As he slid the door open, a sudden yelp startled him.

"Ouch! Oppa!" Hwara cried out, nursing her hand.

"Yah! Why was your hand there?" Seokjin exclaimed, his worry evident as he examined her hand.

After fetching a bandaid and ointment, Seokjin returned to a sheepish Hwara. "Be more careful," he said gently as he tended to her hand.

"Sorry, oppa... Are you worried about what the doctor said?" Hwara asked, a hint of guilt in her voice.

"Of course, I am. You're my sister," Seokjin replied, his tone softening. "We're going back to Korea. You need to get better."

"We are?!" Hwara's eyes lit up.

"Yes, we need to get ready," Seokjin confirmed with a smile.

"Let's Get It!" Hwara cheered, leaping from the bed in excitement, which led to a playful scolding from Seokjin as he struggled to apply the bandage.

.
.
.

In the dimming lights of a Korean evening, Taehyung's fingers trembled as he dialed Namjoon's number, only to be met with the cold tone of an unavailable line.

"Hyung, please... I can't find Jisoo. We need to find her—fast," he pleaded into the voicemail, his voice a mix of desperation and fear.

Taehyung sat in the dark, the only light coming from his phone screen, his hands raw from nervously scratching. Finding Jisoo was all that mattered now; he couldn't let his father reach her first.

...

Meanwhile, call after call, Yoongi's attempts to reach Jennie and Jungkook were met with silence or abrupt disconnections. The isolation was suffocating.

Yoongi was grappling with his own helplessness, wondering if he was to blame for the silence of his friends. Frustrated and seeking escape, he left his motel room for the solace of a nearby bar.

"Three bottles of soju," he demanded.

"Since when are you going to keep coming like this and ask for many bottles but won't even pay for one?" The owner came to him.

"As long as I want to. Besides, I'm loaded today. So bring it on." Yoongi said, his voice already slurred, as he slapped a briefcase full of cash onto the table before him.

The bar owner, weary of Yoongi's antics, sighed but obliged, setting the bottles before him.

Blue ButterfliesWhere stories live. Discover now