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"Sometimes it can get so hard pretending that it's okay."
~Jimin~
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Soulmates and Rejection
You'd think that being able to be with the other half of your soul would be enough. For some people, unfortunately, it isn't.
It is possible to reject your soulmate. Doing so, however, promises a lifetime of unease. Your soul will always long to join with its other half, and you will never feel at home.
When you reject your soulmate, you're cutting off the soulmate bond that exists between you and your soulmate. It has been proven that those who reject their soulmates tend to.....well, they tend to die sooner.
What exactly do I mean by this?
A soul is not meant to be separated. The strain of living is too harsh for one half of a soul to bear. If you reject your soulmate, you're denying your soul its other half; your soul cannot survive without its other half.
Soulmates cannot survive the death of their other half if the soulmate bond has fully formed. It's too great of a loss. This is why those who have never met their soulmate before will not die if their soulmate dies. Their soulmate bond has not fully formed. Instead, their Mark will turn grey. A lifeless grey. A depressing grey.
The Mark only turns grey if the bond has been cut. The bond can only be cut through death or rejection. If a soulmate has chosen to reject their other half, the Mark turns grey. This is because it is essentially the same as death to the Mark. This is mainly because the Mark cannot comprehend any reason why the bond would be cut unless the other soulmate died.
It is highly likely that if you sever your soulmate bond willingly you will either die or develop a mental illness. The soulmate bond is dormant until you meet your soulmate. The loss of a bond that has always been there, even if it hadn't been activated, is shocking to both your body and your soul. And to break the bond by your own choice?
There are consequences for that sort of thing.
(Fate doesn't like being disobeyed.)
—an excerpt from All About Soulmates
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Her name was Park Eunae. She embodied her name, being the epitome of grace and love. Eunae could've become spoiled with all the attention she was given—it would've been so much easier to hate her.
But that wasn't Eunae. No, Eunae was kind to all. She talked to the outcasts, made friends with the bullies, and laughed with everyone.
Boys wanted her, girls wished to be her, and the teachers loved her. Eunae was perfect. She never messed anything up—except for one missed phone call.
A phone call that could've changed her life.
~*•*~
Eunae drops her bag as she shakes off her umbrella. The rain had been relentless and no part of her was left dry. School had been long that day—everyone seemed to have to talk to her.
Not that she minded! It was wonderful having so many friends. It simply can get quite exhausting.
(Is love possible with someone who's not your soulmate?)
"Eunae-ya? Is that you?" Her mother calls out from the kitchen. Eunae leaves her phone on the table by the door and moves to the kitchen.
Her father was more than likely still at work. It wasn't often that he managed to get home before her.
(Can we break free of fate's hold on us and write our own story?)
"Yes, it's me," Eunae mumbles, stopping in front of the entryway to the kitchen. It takes but a second for her mother to notice her.
"Yah! You're dripping all over the floor! Go clean up," her mother scolds her, the displeasure evident on her face.
(No.)
Eunae discreetly rolls her eyes but moves towards her room. She didn't particularly enjoy wearing wet clothes. A few minutes later, she was in the shower and focused on washing her hair.
The sound of the shower blocked out the sound of her phone ringing on the table by the door. Her mother peeks her head out of the kitchen.
(Our attempts to run from our fate lead us straight to it.)
"I could've sworn that I heard something," she mutters to herself before returning to the kitchen to finish preparing for dinner.
~*•*~
Eunae went to bed that night, unaware of the opportunity she missed. She didn't know about the boy who silently rode the bus home, hiding his tears until he was alone in his room.
Eunae slept unaware of the boy who worked up all his courage to confess his feelings to her.
Her life—
(Eunae laughs as he makes another joke, smiling up at her with his boxy smile. He'd tell a thousand jokes to hear the sound of her laughter.
WRONG
She links her arm with his, trying her best not to fall in her heels. The camera's bright flash blinds her, but she doesn't let it show.
NOT YOU
He slips his hand into hers and gently caresses the back of her hand with his thumb. Eunae is asleep, but he's still awake. Her delicate features soothing an ache he didn't know he had. He presses a kiss to her forehead—
THIS ISN'T RIGHT
He clutches her hand tightly, worry creasing his face. Eunae is writhing in pain, begging for relief. She's gorgeous. Sweat is dripping down her face and her breathing is labored, but she's absolutely gorgeous.
"Push!"
The silence is broken by crying. The crying of a beautiful baby—)
L̶̨̢̨̨̛̛̛̛̛͕̘̰̦̮̻̼͚̟̣͉̬̤̬̩͚̞̩͙̝̫͉͇̫͔̘͖͈̩̪̘̝̞̠͍̱̫̼̥͚̣̲͈͖̹͔͕̠̭̣͔̲̦͉̃̀͐̇̈̉͌́̎͛̇̌̋͗̆̓́̇̄̅̂̑͒̈́̋̇́̓̊̅̀̂͐̿́͌͒̈͋̎̓̂̊́̏̌̐̎́͆̀̽̄̅̓̿͛̓̾̎͗̽̓́̿͑́̈̾̆̃̑̒̇̒̽͆͋̋͒̂̈̒͑̈́̉̀͗̓̄͐̓́̆̂̈̆̏͐̀̏͋͐̃̀̒̍̀̋̀͌͐̾̒̌̏̈̈́̽́̈́́͛͊͗̂̄̓̈́́͊͐̾̏̿̀̀̋̾̎̎̆̊̉͋͗̑͐̓͛͛̂̓̊̑͌̆͑͆̉̒͛͛̀͑̚̚̕̚̚͘͘̚̕͘̚͘͘͘̕͝͠͝͝͠͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝ͅơ̸̢̢̧̧̡̢̢̢̡̡̨̨̡̧̧̧̨̧̛̲͖̗̺̬͎̬̣͈͍̪̺͓̦̟̦̫͈͇̩̖͖̞̬̰͙̹̙̼̮̺͚̪͇̹͙̝̺̼̬͔̪̖̙͖̙̳̲̘͓̻͕̘̗͎̯̩̘̹̭̗̻̤͇͔̰̞̖͖͇̻̯̲̮͖̖̥̺̹̞̳̳̰̥̼̝̻̣͍̰̱̻̥̬͍̬̲̞͔̗͕̫̤͎̝̟͕̺̟̭̮̞͉͉̰̩̙̜̥̤̹̰͕̫̘̠͕̘̝̳̠̟̖͓̯̥̦̥̥̣͔͈̻̯̠̺̘͎̺̫̦͔̮͎͎̯̥̥͖͕̖̖̖̬̳̠̗̜͖̖̰̠̤͖̘̹̘͎̻̜̥͚̙̩͔̬̠̗̯̻͉̭̺͖̪͂̇͊͛̑̐̓͋̎́͐̈́́͆̈́͒̔̄̽̾̑̈́͛̆̒̎̂̂̽̂̔̄͊̓̀̊̀̊͂̍̈̆̀̐̾̽̾͂̓͗͛̋͒͛͊͋̿͋́͑́̓͑̌̿͆̈̓̽͂̇̆̒͒̌̄̆̈́̈̚͘̕͘͜͜͜͝͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅv̷̡̨̢̛̛̛̛̹̠̯͓͍̩̯̩̤̣̜͔̫͈̯̣̭̤̦̳͇͚͚͚͖̻̣̼̠̯͉̝̠̼̼̯̪̬̟̜̺̇̔͆̿̈́́̈́̀̏̋͋́͒͛͗̐̒̌͊̿̿̂̇̈́́̈́̌̏̈́̄̿̈́̋͆̽̀̊͗̄̎̌̅͂̇́̂͗̊̈́̂͌͆̈́̄͌̇̿̾̽̅̎̽͊̀̈́͛̆̉̊͋͐͒̋̉̄̀̈́͂̏̊̂̋̊̒̒̔̃́͑̀͑̽̏͌̈́̈́͑̓̒̊̊͒̀̍̀̒͒͒̓̇̐̇̒͑̍̓̔͛́̿͌̓̾̀́͑̌̏͋̉͋̆̓͌̓̆̇́͆̈́̀̒̇͑͆͊̋͊͂̌̽̿̇̑̃̈́̎̈́͋͋̊̀̾̍̓̀̈́̊͂̓͑̔̏͂̊͊̚͘̕͘̕͘̚͘͘͘̚͘̚̚̚̚̕̕͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅę̵̨̧̡̛̛͕̘͚̖̫͍͎͚̜͚͍̯̘͖̝͔̬̙͇̼̟̘̱̹̠̰͕̺̙͍͕͔͚̬͔̻͚̦̹̹̯͙̦͓̘̻̟̝͚̺̠̟́̈̒̀̿̔̐̈̑̑̎́͒͒̇͗̊̀̈̏͌̔̍̎̓̀̄̒̿̔́͌̀́̈́̒̅͂̉͛̐̾̕̚̚̕͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅ
̷̨̧̢̢̡̡̢̨̨̢̨̢̛̛̹̟͉̱̘̘͈̤̠̣̳̣͖̝̝͉̞̠̠̮̘̞̘̟͕̳̹̺̝̗͚̫͔̥̠̖̟̩̱̤̝͙͈̼̳̪̗͓̦͓̺̹̮̣͉̝̹̹̼͖̞̙͔̱̯͖͇̯͚͍̱̦̙̗̙̙̻͇̝̞̞̙̬̳̣̬̳̱͓̥̟̰̤̘͎̰͙͖̲̜̣̮̝͎̥̜͍̺̰̣̭̘̟͔̦̝̤̜͉̼͉̜̜̬̟̲͉͙̭̲͈̼͉̳̭̹̰̬̖̙̩͔̙̬̗̗̪̮͖̟̝͇̗̝̥͍̻͈͙̖̯͓̟͍̺̣̯̣̬̻̺̹̞͓̆̉̍͂͊̽͂͋̀͛̅̆̓̍̎̀̿̈́́̌̍̏̀͑͂̈̉̔̔͆̈́̓̒́̇͘͜͜͜͜͜͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅH̶̨̡̧̡̨̢̨̧̧̢̧̛̗͕͇̯͙͍̩̙͍̼̜͖̦͈̹̗̜͉̱̤̗͍͖̣̪͈̗͚̻̥͚̬͍̰͓͓̗̣̭̰̤̯̯̼͈̘̖͈̟̬͍̱̙͉͇̭͎̩͚͔̝̞͍̪̠͍̯̻̣̬͇̼͖̳͈̦͕̯͚̦̦͔͎͕͕̮̗̣̘̠̹͓̞̱̹͕̃̄̄́̑͋͊̌̐̓̐̂͐̆̎͊̒̋̑́̎͌̓̐̆̏̾̍̏̐̀͒̀̍̐́́̄̉͐̉̅̅̐̍̏̿̽͐̇͑̈́̅͐̈́̃̐̔̿̿́̍̐̿̓͋̾̃̈́͋̊̽̋̃́̏̓̐͂̿͋̒͐̑̓́̾͊̉͆͋̒͛̽̊̽͗̾̃̿͒̊̎̈̈́̿̽͂͑͑̆͊̃̓̎̃̓̈̑̏̒͊͑̒̈́̈́̎͑͗̿̈̀͗̋̅̐̍̉̂̽̅̆́̅̌͗̓͋̕̕̕̚͘̕͘̚̚͘̕͜͜͜͠͝͠͠͠͝͝͝͝͠ͅă̸̡̧̨̡̡̡̡̨̡̛̼̳̮͎͔̘̪̪͍̰̥̤͓̙͖̠̮͈̭̙̜͉̞͉̗̤͔̦̬̺̭̞͙̦̟̦̹̮̱͚͍͕̲̻̬͕̱̬̳͈̝̞̖͖̱̼̺̫̣͉͍̠͍͍̙̠͈̜̪̯̹̺͖͍̯͎̲̤͓̤̳̘͖̯̗̝̯̻̘̞͖̙̼̥̮̙͇̘̠̳̪͓͖̤̳̳̭̦̬̼̱͐̈̀̓̇̿̒̊͋̿̆̎̆̏̑͛͛̌̓͛͊͋̇̽͆̋̚͜͜͝͝͝ͅͅp̵̡̧̡̧̨̢̢̧̢̡̡̡̡̧̢̨̡̧̧̢̢̡̛̭͍̥̬̯̞͕̟̥͍̼̹̬͔͍͎̫̦̙̥̯̘̗̗̬̤̘͙̯̦̻̝̰̜͍͇͈͙̹͇̣̰̯͔̥̪̱̜͓̝͔͎̮̱̺̼̭͚͎̺̱̝̙̩͖̗͍̰̤͙̞̱̺͎̬̼̤̭̩̥̯̟͍̼̭̣͍͖̭̦̜̭̬̟͔̳̻̱̠̠̺̘̩̹̳̼̠̯͉͔̭̠͖̭̭͉̫͍̪̞̠̘̭̬̮̣̩͕̰̮̗̭͓̖̼̩̠͉̭̪͉̝̜̣̟̻̰͍̭̯͍̞̞̞̼̪͔̞̣̜̜̦̙͔͉̙͉͕̙̤̠̯̥̰̟̺̣̗̺͈̫̩̳̫͈̟̜̘̓͗̈́̃͆̒͊͌̆̾̀̀͊̀͊̄͋͊̋̅̏͐̈́̈́̓̑̈́́̀̅͌̉̾̏̀̄͑̊͌͆͑͒́̾̎̈́̔̒̂̽̀͒̿̚͘̚̚̕͜͜͜͝͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅp̵̡̨̡̢̧̨̨̨̨̨̢̨̧̛̛̛̛̮̙̩̞̬͎͚͙̭̠̯̳̹͕̯͈͍͕̬͈͕̺̞̥̤̺͖͎̺̦̠̻̘̘̮̫̰̻̜͕̰̰̤̟̰͙̙͉͍̠͓͇̯̬̼̻̩̹͈̺̭̟̘̮̟̤͔̣̜̪̲͕͈͍͕̘̖͚͚̜͈̙̭̮̱͈̜̥̣͖̣̰͇͕̟̥̪͓̘̹̫͖̼̟̜̰͉͕̞͓͕̘͓̙͉̲̞͉̳͙̥̩͖̼̥͚͇̱̪̼̹͚̼͇͚̙̗̱̰̮̺͍̺̖̟̭̠̼̦̖̲̮͕͙̱̥͕̻̝̼͎͕͉̝̲͙͚̞͉̙̭̫͚̤͇̖̑̈́͊͛̑̿͐̊̇̿̈̈́͛̔̏̈̌̓̎̈̊̄̓̔͒͊̈̽̈́͌̒̀̅̃̃͗̃̔̃̊̏͗͆͂̌̾͛̎͌̒̊͆̀̀́̎͊͑͑̈́̇̐͋̿́͋̎́͗̅͋́͋̍͊̆͗̎̍͌͛̄̉̉̋̉͌̈́̅̂̀̐͊̈̊̽͛͛̑̅̾̋̄͑̈́̑̓͆̈́̔̌͂̓͑̑̈́̅̾̈̂̀͐̏̊̾̽̇͂́́̑̅̄́̽͌̈́̿̓̆̑͆̋̊̃̓͂̅͗̉̈́̍̌̽̊̅̈́̀̅̈̽̍̄̈́̾̑̂̌̎͋̈̾̂̚̚͘͘̕͘̕͘͘̕̚̚͘̕̕̕͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅì̷̧̡̧̧̨̧̡̙̻̯̟̥̦̰̣͖̟̥̠̲͉͍͙͔̙̖̩̻͇̗̫͎͉͉̝̹̮̳̼̺͇̼̳͈̟̜͔͖͈͎̱̝̙̙̹͍̤̻̣̲̝̮̩̪͔̞̪̙͓͇̹̱̼̳͍͎͙̮̯͎̥͖̫̤͚̘͔͗͑̾̃̾̑̂̆̈́͌̄̀̅͐̆̀̋́̔̉̏͌̚͜ͅņ̸̢̧̧̨̡̢̧̛̛̛͙̮̟̯̫̤͓̺͔̣͚͓̞̤͇͖̙͈̲̹̰͈̮͖͉̖͇͚͉̙̠̭̯͓͕̫͔̬̦̺̳̭͍̠̠̻̜̭̭̰͖̰̯̖̖̭͈̲̤̮̮̺͇͔̪͉̦̜̗͚͈̤̤̖͈̤͍̝͇͓̤̖̺̞̝̼̲̣̱͔̺̆̄̂̓̔̅͋̋̏̆̀̍̔͂̔͒̍̔̔̌͗̈́͒̍̉̀́̐̍̌̈́̑͂̋̓̂̑͂̉́̑̔̏͂̓̊̀̀̈́̿͑̋̇͂͆̀̃̔̀̾͗̓͂̾̏̂̉̆̽̊͐̌̊̿̀̌̌̋̑͂̿̎̀̔͆̉̈̉̌̇̃͋̑̈́͘̕̚͘͘̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅē̴̢̢̨̡̧̛̛͈̰̜̳̜̭̦̥̻͈̯̯̮̖͚̘͔̺̩͎̘̻̱͈̿̍̓̓̾̐̎̐̉̃̈̀̿̔̇̍̐̇̒̇̇̽̎̅͋̉̇̀̎̅͆̈́̇̐͐͐̇̋͋͋̓̎͐̇̃͊̆͂͗͋̊̐̈́́̓̽̓̎̓̈́̈́̂́̌̆͋́̽̀̒̇̒̏̋͒̄͛̋̿̐̈́̊̓͗̇̐̀̈́̋̓̏͐̇̑̈͋̈́̎̃̅̃͒̎̈̔̇̆̏̀́̈́̄̂̉̒̔͑̊̄̏̏̃̉͑̏̉̊̐̊͗̒̈̎͗̇͑͑̾̊̀̽͆̓̔̚̚̚̕̚̚̕͘͘͘̕͜͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅs̴̢̧̧̢̡̧̨̡̨̨̡̢̡̡̧̡̛̲̞̹̼͎̫̻͚̱̮̰͔̹͉͎̹̱͉͖̣̺̯̣̖͓̻͇̗̲͕̟̖̹͔̣̫̲̥̼̦͔̤̞͚̣̥̝͍͔̼͓͓̘̞͚̘͓̫̙̜̣͔͔͓̤̘͍̦̩̣͔͈̲̭͙̞̝̮̲̞̫͍̦̙̼̥̯̜̥̘̝͉̲̯̖̺̠̮̼̣̼͓̟̤̖̼̯̹̹̥̘̞͖̳̹͉̠̯̗̳̔̍̑̄̈̐͊͛́̃́̊̈́̇̉͐͒̀͑́̓̒̔̀͋͋̆̈́̀̈̋͗̋͑̌͊͐̍̓͑̅̓͑̄͋̎̏̽̈̑̈̉̍̽͊̉̈́̉̄̿̉̕̕̕͘̕͜͜͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅs̵̢̡̢̡̨̡̫̝͕̦͎͓̱͓̦͎̥̩̖̗̟͖̼̩̜̥̲̱͕̝̲̤̜̦̹̖͕͕̜͚̝̦̠͓̘̭͉̣̹̥̟͖̼̥͓̻͈̼͖̯̳̠̬̙̞͕̖̳̬̤̹̼̝͖̦͇̱̙̯̻̖͓͖͚̙̥͌̆̀̒̌̈́͒̒̎̈́̐̔͒̈́̌̋͛͊́̐̉̉̈̓̾̄͊͐̋̓̾̓͑͂̀͆͒̈́͛͒̈̀͋̇͆̀́̿̅̈̈́̈́̽̀͛̓̊̋͌̔̋̈̏̉́̌͆̅̏̈̆̏̅̈́͌̃̈́̇͒̿̓̈̉̀͆͌̿̐́̈́̿̀͑͌̌̓͛̋̋̊̋͊͊͂͘͘͘͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅ
̷̧̢̨̨̧͉̦͔̫̼͚̠͈͚̭̙̣̟̘͓̼̬̩͂̀̋͒͘͝ͅF̴̨̡̭̭͖͉͖̼̤̬̖̱͈͍̼̝̣̭͔̺͔̣̮̮̲̺̗̪͇̟̩̗̖͔̦̼̮̫͈͚̠̗̮͕͎̣̫̫̟͉̹̎͆̓͗̀̔̃̎̍͂̊̕͝͝ͅả̸̡̡̢̗͍͈̭͓̖͋͑̌̀̉̀̏̑͐͆͑͋̅̊̒̊͐̚͜m̸̨̡̢̡̨̢̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̟̲̪͉͔̞̳͙̜͎̘͈͚̩̞͇͖̤̠̣̠̞͉͕͚̥̰̭̙̝̱̬̙̦̝̹̞̮̭̝͉͈̼͓͎̤̹̘͉͓͓͇̗̣̱͔̮̻̙͈͎̤̥̩͓̱̻̰̺͚̤͉͎͖̳͚̞͇̪͓̥͓̲̩̻̤͕͖͍͇͖̩̙̯̙̭̩̥̭͕͐͆̓͗̔̒̆̓̎̌̎̓̅͛̿̂̃̿͊̇̑͋̽̄̌̽͛́̑̆͑͑̊̀̾̔̃̄̎͗̑̀̉̀́̒̒̀̍̏́͐̎̑́̅̂̌̈́̊̄͑̔̈́̈́͒̅̀͂͊̈́̇̔̏́̇͗̊̊̎͒̃͌͗̈̌́̾͐̔̋̒͗͂̍̓̍͌͌̿̽͗̽̃̂̓̄͐̀́͆̉̉́̃̿̌́̉̿͆͗̂̑̽͌̂̈́̇̎͑́͊́̆̿̓́̿̐͛̆̊͑̒̆̌͆̆̓̂̔̓̐̅͗͋͐͆̀̿̾͛̈͊͒̀̍́͗͒̈̑̆̃̀̎̈́̄̈́̆̃̕̚͘̕̕͘͘̚̚̕̚͘͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͠͠͠͝͝͝͠ë̴̢̡̧̡̨̨̨̡̛̛̛̛̺̮̘͖̬̰͉̙̝̝̭̱̦̱̱̦̗̣̻̻̖̺̟̜̝͇̝̳̖̣͕͔̯͎̭̬͚͇͔̮͓̱̥̬̙̞̥̯̘͔̙͙͈̯̜̻̣̤̼̠́́͒̈́̊̀͛̑̆͒̄͆̂̅͐̓͐̍̑̈́͋̌͂̎̍̈́͑̀̓̓̓͌͒̉̏͛̒̅̎͋͒͐̈̂̎͐̀̒̀͐̾͊̊̀̿̓̔̔̑̄̐̌̾̏̋̋͂͌͛̆͋̀̊̈̓͂̓̆̄̅̅̀̊̈́͑̏́̋̀̒̇̑́̑̆̏̌̓̔̽̌͒̈́̏̈́̋͐̍̌̓̃͛̽͛̋̌̿͐̀̐̿͗̒̐͑̓̀́́̊̀̓̄̿͘͘̚̚̕̕̕͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠
̵̨̨̧̢̧̡̨̨̡̢̢̡̢̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̜̬̺̖̲̠͇͙̺͔̗͇̼̰͖͍͈̝̹̞̖̭͇͓̫̩̲̦̪̥͈̪̫̳̬̭͕̱̯͓̺̭̦̘͚̩̝̱̩̩̗͉̜̼͕̖̮̟̫̩̜̥͙̮͖͉͙͉̹̦̞͖͙͓͇̩̞͉̼͍̹͖̥̻͓̼̯̟̝̻̺̹̰̜̤̦̲̳̳̺̜̈́̓̌̿̎̔̇͒͛̓̋̅̉̀̈́̄͒̓͐̊̐̅̉̒̔͋̓̈̉̓̇̈́̅́̈́͊̈́͐͊̑̓͊̎͒͂̽͊͛͋͌͒͌̐̀̃̽͐̓̆͑̔͋̈͊̈́͛̀͊́̏̑̈́́͊̅̌̎͋̀̈́̿͆̀̎̐̈́̂̐̃̈́̈̈́̒́́͒͌̍̓̊͆̓͂̈̇̈́̆̃̑̎̽̓͒̂͂͊̓̆̈̈́͑́͐̐̓̑̂̌́̃̀̓́̍͐̇̎̈́͒̔́̈́̿̍̿͋̊̓̋͆̓̿͛̔͋̒̋̓̽̿̈̃͋͘̕͘̕̚͘̚͘̕̚͘͘͜͜͜͠͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅK̷̡̨̡̡̢̢̨̡̨̢̡̢̢̡̢̢̢̡̪̺̯̗͈̗̼͎͇̼͈̲̝̝̤͕̹͓̦̖̯̥̫̮̜̹̹͕̥̞̦̫͇̭͈̣̠̝̤͚͎͈̺̰͕̯̘͓̼̩̼̟͍̯̠̺̙̺̯̞̰̙̫̤͈̻̻̰̩̬͍͇̦͕̼̤̟̙͙̣̣͙̘̟͎̜͕͉̖̲̥̪̙̳̱̥̼͉̠̲̙͓̜͔̭̤̜̦̲̗̣̰̠̮̝͍̞̠̱̤̬̱̦̤̰͙̺̝̰̝̯͉̲̮̯͙͎͔̖͙̹̖̩̺̤̜͔̱̤̮̮̥̥̖̹̜̺̞̽͌͊̽̿̓͒̈́̆̉͌̎͌͘͜͜͜͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅį̵̨̧̨̧̢̢̨̨̨̧̧̢̧̧̨̛̛̛̛̤͚̪̤̱̦̞̩̬̠͓̞̻̥͔͍̯̲͖̻͖̥̼̳̬͈̤̼̱̬͈̹̯̠̞̠̻̬̳̜̟̦̖̞̲̳̫̗̞̖̥̼͓̜̗̻̼̲̩͔̬͙̱͚͚̟̟͖̼͓̻̬͔̞̺̫̘̻̬̦̱͇͍̳͕̤̮͕̲̹̮͇̭̭̫̫̱̟͚͙͓̭͈̜̫̯͓͖͙͉͚̺̖̗̗̣̬̻̜̪̻̯̝̞̪͉̫̙̻̮͈̪̳̜̮̳̞̲̲̬͚̫͚̗͇͔̻̱̯͚̹͕̗̱̖̮͈̘̪̦̗̖̺̭͑̒͌͆̂̈͊͌̀͗̀̒̒̉̅̈̒͆̿̄̆́͒́̉̎͗͂͌͂̅̋̃̀̇͐̾́̀̆̌̎͐͌̈́͒̾̈́͛͐̄̇̇̌́̏̈́͂̉͂̌̌̿́̈́̃̇̋̎̋͗́̀͒̒̍̃͑̽̈́͑͋́̆̅́̐̃̍́̃̍̏̎̽̒̈̍̋͌̇̂̌̔̓̓́̆̆̾͋̽̇͑̓̊̓̀̾̐̄̀̌̓̇͌̋̋͐̐̿̌̏̓̃͛̅̉̄̊̓͑͊̇̿̋̎͑̐̃͐̃̏̎͌̈́̈̓̒͒̈́̕̚̚̚̕͘̚̕͘̚̚͜͜͝͝͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅm̶̡̧̡̧̨̨̧̛̛̛̘̙̣̠̩̞̯͔͕͖̪̜͉̼͍͇̘͚̭̭͇̪͈̦̤̠͕̝͈͈͖̳̼̗̝̘̗̘͕̘͈̘̼͎̘͖͕͙͉̭̣͔͓̖͙̣̟͔͎̣͕̹͎̞̲̺̞̩̝̰̠͚̩͖̣̩̟̺̦͎̫͙̞̯̪̗̤͍̗͉̹̬̳̱̩̺͈͍̬̱͇̖̺̘̳̼̠̭̙̩̯͍͇̞̣̭̠̰͕͕͐͛͒͛̏̍̅̀̈́̐̂̑̓̽͂̏̾͒̑͗̑̋̐̓͛́͌͛̓̄̑͑͒̽́̉͐̓̆͊̽̀̍̈́̆̇͂̀̀̒̀́̾͗͐͊̂̋̊̍̓̎̌̋͘͘̚͘͜͜͜͠͠͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅ ̵̹̰̺̟͚̭̟̦̻̥͔̝̈́̔͐͊̌͒͛̑̀̌̑̐̆̄͊̅͗͌̽̎͐̾̈́̊̑́̎̌̈̋͂́͌̽̅͌̃͒̂̈́͂̉͐͋͐̒̌͂̏̓̌̇͌͌̆̿̎͑͒̈́͋̓͛̈̓͛̊͗̂͒͐̋̂̓̋̑̃̉͗̌̀̀̏̍̇̽̀̀̓̓̇̅̓̑̀́̊̈͋̀͗̄̕̕̚̚̚̚͠͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅŢ̴̡̧̢̧̨̢̛̛̳̦͉̣̻͎̳͍̣̼̠̞̞̣̰̠͔̖͔̭̼̼͙̜̪̯̫̳͊̊̈́̏̃̂͗̂̑̇̎̈́̓̍̄̓͛̿̔̈͋̈͋́̈́͋̄́̾̈͂̏̿͑̈́̈̐̽̔́̂̿͊͌̀̆̃̆̏̀͂̑̊̂͑̆́̆͆̋̈́̈́̒͌̿͛̔̈́̈́͛̋͗̂͗̌̓̍͂̍̓̔͆̓̃͘̚̕̚͜͝͝͠͠͠͝a̴̧̨̧̡̧̡̧̢̢̠̭͚̥̳̜̜͙̝͖͓̰̙̮̞̹̞͎̲͇̹͔̯̘̻̱̖̤̠̻̗̹̥̖̰͓͍̰̮̪̗͓̟͎͇̳̟͕̪̪̭̥̮͎̬͉̺̻̼̠͈͎̼̜̟͈͍̹̙͕͖͎̻̻̭̙͈͙̦̩̹͔̭̩͓̯̠͇̰̻̖̘̞͚̱̲̝͎̘͕͔̙̰̩̱̥͎̣͎̰̲̖͔̘͎̪̥̅́̾̓͆̍͊̑̎̀̍̇̾͂̚͘̕͘͜͝ͅͅę̴̡̡̨̢̡̢̨̡̢̨̡̨̧̡̡̛̛̛̛̛̩̥͈͎̦͙͚̝̺̤̗̲̗̗̻͉͚̜̫̖̣̱̟̥̺͔̩̠̩̹̫̼̝͙̹̝̲̭̪͕͕̰̖̟̱̙̥̬̩̥̜̩̺̤̬̖̯̺͖̙̞͈̱͚͕̼̖̩̭̭̖̪̥̭̩̟͚͉̬̭̤̙͔̮̳̠̪̯̮̞̭͇̙̙͕̲̖̙͚̘̮̝̭̲̭̹͉̲̤̞̥̰͓͍͈͇̝̳̬̭͇̜̹̲̗̲͉̮̳̫̣̝̭̖͎̖̳͚̯̪̖͓̘̱̞͔̣̭͈͉̠̣̟͓̟̞̪͍͈̥̯͎̠̺̘̹̞̗̼͍̗̪̝͐̂́͑̋͗́͋̽̀̎̍̋̌͆͋̽͋̔͂̈́͑̆͑̔̌̈̑́́̐͋͗̃̐͗͑̄̑̀͗̐́͌͗̋͋̊͋̀͆̿̋́̈́͑̎̉̒̄̍̀͆̃̽͒̏̈̔̑͊̊͑̈̍̋̈́͗̋̀̾̉͗̐́̈́̈́̓̊̀͛̈́́̑͐́̿̂̉̒̏̅͆̏͛̀̂̒̄̈̒͊̒͂̂͆͒̿́͒͊̿͌̎̉̕̕̚͘͘̕͘͘͘͘̚̕̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝ͅͅh̴̨̨̢̡̡̢̡̧̢̨̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̹͙̮̻̗̤̻̖͔͚͚͉͖͖͔̲̻̜̦͖͓͈̱̦̗̫̯͈̮̣̤̩̟̣̘͎͍̘͕̪̳̹̟̻͉͚͓̥͚̣̳͎̺͓̱̯͕̣̟̳̗̘̜̰̖͙̱̘͔͚̤̳͚̻̼̭͔̹̹̯̲̤̯̪̦̠̞̼̱͚̭̰͉̝̝̺͙̯̣̠̪͇̗̬̩̙̺̱̮̖̘͙͍͓̠̘̥͕̤͓̩̩̠̱̞̣̼̖̲͇̤͚͗̾̂̒̑̋̈́̌̾͋̆̋͂́͋̍͒͋͌́́͐͗̉̉̄̍̊̉̏̓̑͐̉̏̇̈́͑̊͗̌̃͒̈́́͑̋̿̔̑̓̈́̔̓̈͑̎́̌́͐͋́̆̈́̋͑͗̈́̿̈̇̾͋͑͂̐̃̅͛̉́̌̆̆͛̾͐̆̃̾̃̋̀́͊̇̄̉̏͌̊̓̒̀̍̆̇̾̃́̀͊̑̒̊̓̍͒̂̿̾̌̆̑͗͌̑͑̂̈̐̔͋̌́̀̓͆̇̌̔͂̐̏͌̕̚͘̕̚͘͘͜͠͠͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝ͅy̷̨̢̢̡̢̢̡̛̛͇̺͉̼̳̬̜̹̳̰̲̥͇͉͕̣̺̹͖̮̠̦͕͕͚̻͔̠̟̪͉̗͇̣̟̬͇͙̝̯̞̳̣̖̝̭̼̘̫̰͔͈̣͎̬̹̰͍̜̟̠̫͓̞̙̦̯̠͚̻̼̙͕̣̻͕̪͒͆̈̎̀̾́̈͌̉̓͒̔̀̌͆̈́̏͊̅̒͒̀́͆̆̌̆̾͋̏̂͒̃̓͌̓̈̅͂̎̐́̌̂̈́̂͊̄̑͗̒̒̇̈͐̒́͋̑̊̈́̌̇̈́̃̀̒́̅̅͆̆͆́̂̏́̀́̈́̒͂͗̈́̅͌̔̌͌́͐͊̄̃́̇͘͘̚̕̕̕̕͜͝͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅų̴̨̡̧̢̡̨̧̨̛̛͔̤̲͔̣̤̺̙̠͍͚̜̰̲̺̣̼͈̠͈̞̲̹̭̳̯̤̯͖̥͇̤̰̯̺̭͓̗̗͕̝̖̲͇̫͎̤͎̺̠͙̯͉̹̖͓͎̺͕̙̹̦͚̱̟̘͎̠̩͚̼̹̙̦͓̪̯̦͚̼̙̝͍͔̻̖͍̙̲͚̣͕̹̣̜͇̣̪͕͚̤̠̯̣͓̩̘̼͕̯̮̻̣͓͉̩̝̥͖͈͙͙͇̤͎̣̘͈̙̺̯̼̩̗͚̞̥̩͍̪̣̣̹̲̟̣̪͍̺͚̯͔̯͎͐̿́̽̿̀̈́̈́͐̃̈̇͑͋̓͐͆̊͆̋̈́͊̑̄̌̄͂̓̀̅́͊̔͌͂͌̔̄̀̍͑͘͘͘̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅṋ̷̡̧̡̢̧̡̢̡̨̧̧̢̨̢̢̧̢̢̢̡̨̢̧͙̦̘͉̰͉̯̠̤̭̳̼͈̮͓͚̘̥͙̪̤̼̱̦̮̖͉͚͓̦͕̝̜̱͉̣̻̤̫̺̖̥͚͔͍͔̰̪̫͕̺̱̼̺̜̝͉̥̣̫̘̯̼͔̼͎͓͎̳̪̼̝̺̺͔̳̹̣̮͕͎̭̝̹̲̝͉͈̠͍̱̼̝͓͖̺͔̖͔̩͕̮̭̩̪̟̬̞̤͙̖̱̭͖̲̪̤͕͔͙̠̰̜͉͚͍̹͈̫̲͚̯̱̗̬̳̙͕̣̠͈͕͙͈̲̫̜̪̜̝̰̹̙̳̺͍͚̳̮̩̹̻̪̮̩̲̱͍̥̟̖̭̬͍̪͚͉̯̥̘̳͚̩̮̙̣͉͈̪̜̰͔̭͕̪̪̌̊̾̒̀͒̎̆̏̅͐͂͆̿̉̎͊̏̃͗̽͌̋̐̋̿̀̓̅̌̊̌͐̓̌̈́͌͌͐̃̿͑̑̿̿̀̌͐̏̑̏̆͛̋̐̽͌̃̔̓̄̍͐̒̏̿̍͛̌́̔̑̐͊̒͐͑̈͒͘͘̕͘͘̕͜͜͠͠͠͝͝͠ͅģ̶̡̡̧̨̨̡̢̡̨̢̧̢̢̧̡̨̨̧̛̱̘̰̯̭̝̖̞̻̻͍̯͙̯̠̥͇̟̺͓̱͖͓͈̺̥̭̯͖̝̩̳͙͓͍̳̪̖̩͎̘̖͖͈̰͚͖̝͓̹̻̖̱̼̥̖̦̲̦̱̭͖͙̱̣̰͔̣͈̪̹̦̠̻͔̹̞̗̹̲̰̝͉͔͔̣̼̻͍͎̹̥̘̝̹̫͖̭̥̹̟͚̘̟̣̻͔̱̟͉̫̩̞̩̳̗̤͕͕̺̠͕̱̦̳͕̮͇̳̯̰͓̹̝̲͙̘͖̫̻͙̙͔̳͕͇̘̼̮̲̪͓͎̤̳̦̗̹̭͍͙̋̏̔͆̎͒̑̓̐̓̆̀͊͒͒̈̅̍̑̓̽̿͆͋̑̈́͆̋̈́͐͊́́̈̇̊͊̄̀̈̀̾̀̓͗̔̿̍̓͊͆͐̍̚͘͜͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅ
̷̡̡̨̨̧̢̡̢̧̧̧̧̧̨̢̨̨̨̨̢̛̛̛̛̛̛̭̥̮͎̥͕͙̜̱̳̲͔͕͉̲͇̳͇̯̖̜͚͚͙̦͎͖̤͙͕̙̺̮̩͙̻̗͎̩̦̼̲̲̯̭̼̪̺͕͉̘̰̦̣̮͖̼̠͍̥̣͈̜͙̗̥͔̙̳̥͍̥̣͇͉̦̟̠̗̘̖̭̻̺͔̞̩͖͔̳̻̘̗̥̹̱̫͈̠͙̖̩̮͔̩̲̭̟͍̞̫͍̳͍̭͖͔̘͖͕͍͈̖͙̰̗͉̭̗̤̗̻̰̖̻̱͖͉̦͖̥͇͇̻̙̙̼̮̮̣̠̣̼̜̙͙̱̠̳̖͎͔̝͍̫͙̘̜͕̤̰̬̖̝̤̞͙̜͓̫͚̟̪̜͉̞̲̳̼̅̓́̒̏̈́̓͒͒̅̐̏̓̒͗̔͋͋̎̐͛͒̓̂̓̾̑͆͒͆́̋͂͆͂͗̋͋̎̀̒͊̾́͌́̀̏̏̏͌̋̎̐̽͊̍̀̀͊̽̂͊͑͐̈́͋̉͊̔̈̄̇̊̇́͂̂̂͐́̍̐́̐̋͗͌̽̉͂̂̌̉̆́̄̃̓͑́̋̆̈́̓͆̑̿͌͋̉̒̐̽̍͑̆͛͛̿͌͒̀͑̎̅̒̃̀̈́̐͐̂̐̎͌̑̓̆̔͗́̑̔͒̚̚̕̕̚̚͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅ
Her life would've been changed. But the doors to that life were closed when her phone went to voicemail. And Eunae lost the chance to know and love him. But most of all? She lost his love.
Whose love?
Why, Kim Taehyung, of course.
____________________________________
~o0o~
(11:50 P.M.)
(Novotel Sydney Olympic Park Hotel)
(Room #340)
"And where do you think you're going?"
I startle at the unexpected voice coming from behind me. He doesn't sound happy. Oops.
"Taehyung," I laugh nervously. "I thought you were asleep?" His annoyed expression takes the smile right off of my face. This was exactly what I was trying to avoid.
"I was. Until I heard Jungkook slam into a wall." He looks at me expectantly, waiting for an explanation. I wince at his statement. Jungkook didn't have the best motor skills while half-asleep.
"Well—you see, I was just," I grasp for words, "going to bed?" I mean, it's the truth. I do not fancy sleeping on the couch. I also don't want to force the boys to rearrange their sleeping arrangements.
Obviously, the solution is to go find Sejin and figure out which room I'm assigned to. Sure, I'll probably have to share a bed with one of the make-up artists, but I don't really mind.
Taehyung stares at me, unimpressed. He raises his eyebrow as if asking if that was my actual plan. I remain stubborn and keep my position by the door.
He sighs and makes his way over to me. I take the time to examine him. He's in his pajamas and looks adorably ruffled.
Taehyung stops only a foot away from me. Reaching down, he pries my fingers off of the strap of my duffel bag. It lands with a dull thud.
"You're hurt," he bluntly tells me. "And you got hurt when you weren't with us."
I nod slowly with a confused expression. Why did that matter? I don't think me being with them would have prevented that. In fact, I probably would've gotten trampled by their fans. A shiver runs through my body at the thought.
"If you're with us, then you won't get hurt," he declares, firm in his belief. His voice doesn't waver. His eyes are determined.
"Taehyung," I trail off, not knowing what else to say. How can I tell him that they wouldn't always be able to protect me?
"Please. Stay with us," he pleads with me. He wraps his hands around mine and pulls them towards his chest. "Stay with me."
How do I say no to this?
I can't.
"Fine," I whisper. "I'll sleep on the couch then." My back is aching already, but it's worth it to see his pleading eyes brighten with joy.
Taehyung lights up, a brilliant smile starting to spread across his face. I start to grin before he suddenly frowns.
"What's wrong, Tae?" I furrow my eyebrows, concerned over his sudden change.
"You're not sleeping on the couch," he tells me. "You can have my bed."
While the offer is sweet, Taehyung has a concert tomorrow. I'm not going to be taking his bed from him.
"No," I nonchalantly inform him. I tug my hands away from his. Making my way to the couch, I gather the blankets I had left there and start to prepare my bed for the night.
Focused on getting comfortable, I don't notice Taehyung bringing more blankets and pillows until he drops them all on the floor.
I just stare as he cocoons himself in the blankets and settles down, closing his eyes. I quickly move towards him.
"Taehyung? What are you doing?" I question him, nudging him a little. He rolls over and smiles.
"If you're sleeping on the couch, I'll sleep on the floor!" He's still smiling, like his words actually make sense.
My left eye starts to twitch. Well played, Taehyung. Well played.
What should I do? I can't force him to sleep in his bed.........unless.
I smirk.
"I'll only sleep in your bed if you're sleeping in it."
I expected for him to freak out and give up. Surely he wouldn't be okay with sharing his bed? He'd start to stutter and would go to his room with a bright blush on his cheeks. I'd sleep peacefully, knowing that he'd get a proper night's rest.
That was not the case.
Taehyung's smile becomes even bigger (how is that possible?), and he immediately begins to clean up all the pillows and blankets.
Puzzled, I remain in the same spot. After a couple of minutes, he stops in front of me.
"Come on, let's go to bed," he beams, with a smug expression on his face.
Why do I feel like this was his entire plan from the start?
~o0o~
Taehyung led me to his room. The first thing I noticed was the window showcasing the Australian night sky.
The room has two beds situated right next to each other. There's a small wooden desk in one corner of the room. In the other corner, there is a small chair in front of the window.
Namjoon is peacefully snoring on one of the beds, his face smashed into his notebook. I let out a silent giggle as I grab the notebook out from under him and set it on the desk.
By the time I pull Namjoon's blanket up to rest over him, Taehyung is already in bed. I can see his struggle to stay awake, barely containing a yawn.
I roll my eyes before planting a light kiss on Namjoon's forehead. It's been a long day—I can practically hear the bed calling my name. I tiptoe over to Taehyung's bed and slip underneath the covers.
I drop my head on the soft pillow, ready to go to sleep. Anything else would have to wait until I got at least four hours of sleep. Four.
"Akari," Taehyung whines. I don't move a muscle. Maybe he'll think I'm already asleep? "Akari." I ignore him.
"Akarrrriiii," he drags my name out.
"Yes, Taehyung?" I ask, keeping my eyes closed. "What do you need?"
"A kiss."
Snapping my eyes open, I prop myself up on my arm. I examine Taehyung's innocent expression. Did I imagine him asking for a kiss?
"What?"
"You gave Namjoon a kiss. I want one," he pouts. Oh. That's adorable.
(I shove the small, disappointed part of me down. It's too soon to be even thinking about kissing him on the lips. Right?)
I scoot closer to him on the bed. Brushing his hair away, I let my lips rest on his forehead in a gentle kiss. I pull away from him and return to my previous position.
I tug the covers over my shoulders and settle down. Content with hearing Taehyung's soft and steady breathing, I begin to drift off to sleep.
My consciousness starts to slip away, and the sweet embrace of sleep is calling me. As I finally go to sleep, I hear one last thing.
"Goodnight, Akari."
_________________________
~o0o~
(September 3rd (Friday))
(6:30 A.M.)
Someone's light giggling is what draws me from the beautiful abyss of sleep. I can hear people whispering—not that they're doing a good job at it.
It's too early to be getting up, so I ignore them and snuggle back into my pillow. I didn't know pillows could hug me back?
I spend two seconds on the thought before discarding it. The pillow is so warm and comfortable; I could already feel myself falling asleep again.
"Shouldn't we—"
"Shhhh, you'll wake them up!"
"They need to wake up."
A shutter sounds, telling me someone just took a picture. I hide my face in my pillow's neck, nuzzling into it. The soft scents of lavender and chamomile surround me.
I huff, trying to get comfortable; I end up shifting my position. My pillow groans underneath me and mutters something under its breath.
"Go back," I yawn, taking a second to remember what I was talking about, "to sleep, pillow."
My pillow grunts and settles back down. Just as I start to fall asleep, the warm cover is cruelly yanked away, exposing me to the cold air.
"Akari, you need to get up. We have to leave," an amused voice tells me. "We have to check out the stage."
Ugh. I don't want to get up, but the boys need to leave. Everyone else will probably stay at the hotel because they don't have to be there until the concert tonight.
Sleep? Or BTS?
I can always take a nap at the concert venue if I have to. Groaning, I sit up and open my eyes. Namjoon, Jimin, and Yoongi are surrounding the bed. Namjoon looks stressed while Jimin and Yoongi have a smile and smirk on their faces, respectively.
"How do you like your pillow?" Yoongi asks, his smirk only growing wider. Confused by what he said, I glance down at my pillow.
Oh.
What I thought was my pillow is actually Taehyung. He's flat on his back, arms splayed out on either side of him. His mouth is slightly open, letting out his soft snores.
I am so happy that I don't drool in my sleep.
"Now that Akari is up, who wants to wake Taehyung?" Namjoon questions. Jimin laughs as he walks up to Taehyung.
"There's no point. He's already awake," Jimin announces, no doubt in his voice.
We all stare at him before turning our eyes towards Taehyung. He doesn't move an inch, peacefully breathing in and out.
"Are you sure abou—"
I don't get the chance to finish my question. Jimin, quick as a flash, reaches out and pinches Taehyung's side. Taehyung jerks up, immediately changing from someone who is fully asleep to someone who is wide awake.
"Yah! Jimin!" Taehyung glares at him, his displeasure evident. Jimin glares right back at him. Their stare down doesn't last long. Only a few seconds had passed by when they both burst out in giggles.
"You—"
"I know!"
I stare, dumbfounded, at the two of them. It's too early for this shit. I climb out of the bed and make my way to where I left my bag. I need a shower and coffee to deal with this.
~o0o~
(6:45 A.M.)
As I walk out of the bathroom, I draw my hair up into a loose ponytail. Unfortunately, I hadn't been able to shower as long as I would've liked to, but I don't want to make the boys late.
I had ended up picking out a long-sleeved grey shirt, my black skirt (the only one I have, actually), a pair of white socks, and my black combat boots. I also tossed the crew member jacket and hat back on.
Peeking into the entrance area, I see Hoseok. He's sitting on the couch, scrolling on his phone. Maybe everyone else already went downstairs? With my duffel bag slung over my shoulder, I make my way towards him.
He must have heard my footsteps or something because he looks up from his phone and stands up.
"Morning, cutie!" He grins at me, blinding me for a second.
I take a step back and rub my eyes. Did I just see the sun? I didn't know I would need my sunglasses inside too!
"Good morning, Hobi!" I cheerfully reply, still trying to figure out how he replicated the sun's effect. I give up after a second of thinking about it. There is no answer except for the fact that he's Hoseok. And Hoseok is apparently the sun now.
His eyes zero in on the pill bottle in my hands. He pauses a second, glances at me, and looks back to the bottle.
"Are those the pills you have to take?" he asks me. I tuck the bottle in my bag before answering him.
"Yeah. The doctor told me to take one of them every six hours for two days," I recall. "I should probably take one right now."
My eyes scan the hotel room for a water bottle. While I'm busy doing that, Hoseok gets a text. It clearly surprises him because his eyes widen in shock.
"You can take it once we get to the Arena! We have to leave!" He grabs my hand and drags me out of the hotel room. We do a light jog to the elevator and wait (impatiently, in Hoseok's case) for it to come.
"Akari," he says, trying to catch my attention. I hum at him to continue. "You're going to have to be a part of the camera crew. It's the best way to keep you unnoticeable."
"Okay," I shrug, "how difficult can it be?"
Hoseok's easygoing smile seems a bit mischievous, but it's most likely nothing.
Right?
I suddenly have a bad feeling about this.
_____________________________
~o0o~
(Meanwhile, in Ohio.......)
Sally sighs as she looks at the slip of paper containing the name of the café that Akari used to work at. Sure, Akari asked her to do it, but it's been so long since she went somewhere by herself.
Percy tried his best to spend time with her, but he had his own life to live. He couldn't be there for her all the time.
It was moments like these where the loss of her husband became incredibly painful. Almost like salt being rubbed in a wound that hasn't even fully healed.
Maybe this would be good for her. She knew Akari worried for her just as much as Percy did. Hopefully, checking on this Lucy person would alleviate her worries. She might even become friends with her.
Sally grabs her purse from the table by the door and slips her phone and wallet in it. Opening the door, she steps out and turns back around to lock it.
The whole trip should only last around an hour. It's not like she had anything better to do.
____________________________________
A/N: Hi, everybody! First, please let me explain 😭. I'm really sorry for not posting in over a week! I originally planned on posting a little while ago, but nothing seemed to flow. This chapter was like pulling teeth (and I've had that done to me—a lot) 😂 I hope you guys enjoyed it though! There's a lot of subtle hints that you might have missed. So, this chapter included some history on soulmates! Some people actually reject their soulmate! Will this come into play later on in the story? Maybe. (Yes.)
To make it clear—you have to cut off the bond when it's still in its beginning stages (a.k.a when you and your soulmate first meet). The physical contact soulmates engage in the first few months after meeting each other settles and strengthens the bond and it's almost impossible to deny the pull you feel to have physical contact with your soulmate (the bond is the cause of the pull). Sorry, if that's a bit confusing 😬. Hopefully, later chapters will help anyone who still is a bit confused.
Other than that, a glimpse into Tae's past? I've seen people talking about Tae's Rainy Day girl and I couldn't resist. The members are definitely going to have some stuff that happened in the past that still affects them years later!
Also, a little peek into what's happening in Ohio! 😉
I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Please vote and comment! If I made any mistakes, please let me know so I can fix them! Until next time, my fireflies! 💜💜💜