Warning: This story WILL touch very sensitive topics, like suicide, selfharm, self-hatred, etc. OC is deeply traumatized. Reader descretion is advised.
Summary: Louise Clark is a 21-year-old woman who tries to navigate her stressful live and university. During her master semesters, she gets the opportunity to work with BTS. This job changes her live once again, causing her to face her own insecurities and growing along the people closest to her.
<<If you want to be added to a taglist, send me an ask. They're open. >>
Warning: This story WILL touch very sensitive topics, like suicide, selfharm, self-hatred, etc. OC is deeply traumatized. Reader descretion is advised.
Summary: Louise Clark is a 21-year-old woman who tries to navigate her stressful live and university. During her master semesters, she gets the opportunity to work with BTS. This job changes her live once again, causing her to face her own insecurities and growing along the people closest to her.
<<If you want to be put on a taglist, send me an ask. They're open. >>
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Night Does Not Belong to God – Sleep Token
After the tour, I focused on my university studies and the production of our third album. My bachelor’s thesis was slowly coming along, and even though it should have been my primary focus, I continued working on new songs. Whenever my studies became too much, I turned to composing.
Being home again allowed us to raise Aiden much better. He was two now and growing more independent every day. It was amazing to see him slowly growing up.
“What do you think, Mary?” I asked, biting into my toast.
“What?” Mary replied, looking up from feeding Aiden.
“What kind of man will he become?” I asked, sipping my coffee.
“Hm, I hope he becomes just as respectable as his father.” Mary flashed Martin a charming smile, causing him to choke on his coffee. I burst out laughing.
“Damn, when did you forget how to drink?” I asked teasingly, handing Martin a tissue.
“As if you wouldn’t have the same reaction,” Martin said, rolling his eyes as he dabbed at his shirt. He pressed his jaw tightly together, as if trying to calm himself down.
“Okay, I have to visit the library. I’ll see you in the studio.” I stood up and began putting everything away. I kissed Aiden’s forehead before leaving the house.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I couldn’t find the book I needed,” I apologised as I entered the studio.
“Seriously, Lou. You could’ve sent a text at least.” Martin crossed his arms. He was already annoyed again, like this morning.
“Dude, what’s your problem? It’s not like I’m an hour late. It’s just fifteen minutes. Chill.” I put down my bag and jacket.
“Time I could’ve spent with my son instead of waiting for you.” My eyes widened in shock. He had never used that against me before. Why now?
“Bro, please calm down. She apologised. You know she’s working on her bachelor’s right now. She’s just as stressed as you are,” Tyler interrupted our argument, placing a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “Besides, are you okay? I mean, physically. You seem … pale.” As Tyler mentioned it, we all looked Martin over. He really was pale compared to this morning.
“Ah, just a mild stomach bug. Nothing major…”
“Maybe that’s why you were so irritated this morning. Do you need to lie down?” I grabbed Martin’s hand.
“I’m fine, really. I took some meds earlier. Let’s not waste any more time. Get your voice warmed up,” Martin said softly. I looked him over once more before nodding and starting my warm-up.
When we got home after rehearsals, the house smelled of delicious food, and Martin immediately slumped down on the couch. Maybe this stomach bug was affecting him more than he admitted.
“DAD!” Aiden came running into the living room, quickly jumping onto Martin’s chest.
“Hey, pipsqueak,” Martin said, lifting Aiden into the air. His energy came back as quickly as Aiden came. I giggled and made my way to the kitchen.
“Hey, do you need some more help?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe as I watched Mary.
“Can you take over? I really need a piss.” Mary put the kitchen towel aside.
“Of course,” I laughed, quickly taking over the cooking and setting the table. While doing so, I noticed several unfinished chores that were Martin’s responsibility this week. I furrowed my brows slightly before doing them myself. The food needed to simmer for a while anyway, and Mary probably wanted to spend some time with her boys.
“OI! Dinner’s ready!” The kitchen was spotless now, the table set, and my stomach growling. I sat down, already hearing Aiden’s little pitter-patter approaching. We ate in peace. Martin took care of feeding Aiden and looked after him for the rest of the day.
“I’m beat,” Martin mumbled as he cuddled up against Mary on the couch. He had just put Aiden to bed, and we wanted to catch up on a series we had started together.
“Well, it was a rather long day,” Mary said, kissing Martin’s forehead. He wrapped his arms around her waist and looked at the screen. I started the episode but couldn’t properly concentrate on it.
Martin had been really exhausted lately, and I didn’t think it was just a stomach bug. His energy was so… inconsistent. Outside our home, he became easily irritated, snapping like he had today in the studio. But as soon as Aiden and Mary were around, he became his old self again, radiating positive energy, only to slump down on the couch later. It was odd. But maybe it really was just his stomach bug, band life, and Aiden tiring him out immensely.
He must just be tired. We all were.
And even though the situation was somewhat tense, it didn’t affect our musical bond in the slightest.
“Why don’t you try screaming those lyrics? Maybe that would work better?” Martin said, sitting in a chair in our studio.
“I know, I thought about it too, but I’m not sure it fits the message…” I looked at booklet number forty in front of me.
“Just do it, Lou. Maybe it’ll work.” I ran a hand through my hair, sighing in frustration.
“No, it doesn’t really fit… but – maybe something in between.” I started the background music we had already recorded and began singing along. When the part that had caused the problems came up, I alternated between screaming and singing. I looked up at the ceiling as I finished.
“Fuck, that fits amazingly.” Martin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I totally get why completely screaming doesn’t fit. The fans are going to love this.” The corner of my lips twitched as I wrote it down.
“Let’s see what the others think tomorrow. Maybe it’ll be even better then.”
The next day, we presented what we had written the night before to the others.
“Damn, Louise. I already noticed it during the tour, but I have to tell you now. Your voice has become such a weapon.” Tyler leaned back on his hands, his eyes soft and a faint smile tugging at his lips. “This band is nothing without your voice. You’re the heart of it.” My face flushed bright red, my ears too, as I fiddled with my rings.
“Oh, darling, don’t get shy now. Tyler’s right. You’ve become a force to be reckoned with,” Jess chimed in, wearing a bubbly smile. I hid my face in my hands.
“Thank you…” I mumbled into my hands. I took a deep breath before running a hand through my hair. “Okay, let’s continue working. I want this song finished before my surgery next week.”
The surgery went smoothly. My surgeon did an amazing job removing the plates and screws. Everything healed so quickly that I was back in the studio without crutches a month later. It was bewildering. I had fully expected the surgery not to go as smoothly as it did. When I woke up afterwards, I was shaking with fear. What if I couldn’t walk anymore?
“Miss Clark, the surgery went as smoothly as it could have. I’d even say it went perfectly.” I blinked at the doctor several times.
“You’re kidding. Nothing went smoothly with this injury until now.” I crossed my arms, glancing at my bandaged leg.
“Nope, I’m telling you the truth. You’ll be walking without crutches within a month.” The doctor gently took my hand, making me look at him.
“But you need to know that the nerve damage and chronic pain won’t fade.” I nodded as he explained what I needed to pay attention to over the next few weeks.
“Oi! There she is! Finally, without crutches!” Kate said as I entered the studio after my last follow-up visit at the hospital.
“I’ve never felt this free before.” I put my bag and jacket down and sat on the floor next to Martin. He bumped his shoulder against mine.
“Not even when you’re on stage screaming your lungs out?” Tyler asked, sitting on an amp in front of us.
“Hm, maybe during our tour at the end of the year, when I don’t have to think about inflammation flare-ups anymore.” I stretched.
“Oh yeah, how’s the organisation of that coming along, Mary?” After Jess said that, all our gazes shifted to her at once.
“It’s coming along. Management is pushing for an American tour as well. You up for that?” As always, a notebook lay in her lap. Aiden was playing with some cables nearby.
“Oh, fuck yeah. Of course, we’re up for that.” Tyler beamed with excitement as he heard the news. America, huh? This could be huge, our official breakthrough…
“Do we really want to go there while Trump’s president? It feels weird,” Kate said, brushing her currently flaming-red hair back.
“Yeah, I get it. We could make fun of him during shows, though.” I tilted my head playfully, pulling my knees to my chest.
“Sold. Let’s go on tour in America!” Kate jumped up, one fist raised towards the ceiling. “And let’s fuck this old, white, paedophilic, sexist – what else – man over!” We burst out laughing. Of course, you could always get Kate on board by questioning authority.
We finished the album – at least the songs – in the middle of March. The album release was scheduled for May, and as soon as we finished production, the promotion phase began. But before that, we decided to celebrate finishing the album.
“Oii! Why would we only use blue shells?” Kate laughed as she watched Martin pick the items in Mario Kart.
“So, we could all suffer,” Martin smirked in our direction. “Besides, it was Aiden’s idea.” Aiden giggled on his lap. He played with the hem of Martin’s shirt.
“Blue pretty!” Aiden threw his hands into the air. “Like Lu!”
“Well, thank you, pipsqueak.” I sipped my drink before standing up. “I’ll check on Mary.” I walked into the kitchen, where she was preparing snacks.
“You alright, darling?” I asked, placing my glass on the table.
“Yes, can you bring the finished bowls into the living room?” She pointed to the bowls on the table.
“Of course. Do you need anything else?” I picked up two.
“No, not right now. Maybe you could cook later?”
“Your wish is my command.” I went back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, gradually bringing all the bowls from one room to the other.
“Okay, the snacks are ready, and I’ll be cooking later.” I sat down, and Aiden immediately crawled into my lap.
“Do you think we’ll survive that?” Tyler whispered into Jess’s ear, but I still heard it perfectly. He wasn’t even trying to hide it.
“Lou’s cooking is amazing. You’ll love it,” Martin said. He and Kate were in a heated one-on-one race while we waited for Mary to settle down next to us.
“Yes, Nicole’s mum really taught me well,” I added and sipped my drink again as I ran my fingers through Aiden’s hair.
“Aunty?” Aiden grabbed one of my fingers.
“Yes, Aiden?” I asked, placing the glass on the table in front of us.
“Play, please.” He looked at me with his big, innocent eyes, and I melted.
“What do you want to play?” Aiden turned and pointed at the screen. “This game is reserved for the grown-ups today. We can’t play that. Do you want an alternative?”
“But want play car!” Aiden was already on the brink of tears, a tantrum quickly approaching.
“I know, but we can’t play that right now. I promise to play Mario Kart with you tomorrow. Is that okay as well?” I brushed my hand over his head. Aiden sniffled slightly.
“Pinky promise?” he asked. I interlocked our pinkies.
“Pinky promise. So, what do you want to play instead?” Aiden thought intensely for a moment. I watched him as he tried to figure out what he wanted to play. It was truly amazing how well-behaved this two-year-old was.
“Blocks,” Aiden said finally. I sat him down, and he waddled over to his play corner.
“No, you couch!” Aiden shouted as I tried to follow him.
“Don’t you want to play with me?” I tilted my head, my eyes soft and a faint smile tugging at my lips.
“Fou you!” I sat back down.
“Alright. Then build something for me, and I’ll inspect it later.” I picked up my glass. Aiden nodded and began building something peacefully in his corner. I looked over at the others. They were fully immersed in the game, laughing and snacking away.
And yet again, Martin seemed as though he wasn’t fully present. As I watched him, I noticed how sickly he looked – sunken eye sockets, overall thinner, and deadly pale. How had I not noticed it before?
“He’s fine,” Tyler said as he poked my side.
“You sure? It doesn’t seem like it,” I murmured.
“I’m sure. He’s just very stressed with the band and Aiden, and it’s slowly getting to him.” Tyler ruffled my hair, making me huff.
“Is it really just stress?” I looked at Tyler, concerned.
“I mean, his liver is causing some trouble, but he’s being treated for it. He’ll be fine.” I looked closely into Tyler’s eyes. It felt as though he wasn’t telling me the whole truth. There was something in his eyes that held immense pain, and I couldn’t name it. But it weighed heavily on me.
“Hey, Lou – it’s your turn now,” Martin said, handing me the controller and flashing me a bright, happy smile. “Thanks.” I grabbed it and played along with the others. Even if Martin was sick or Tyler was hiding something that bothered him, I was sure we could overcome anything life threw our way. We had done it before; we could do it again.
Warning: This story WILL touch very sensitive topics, like suicide, selfharm, self-hatred, etc. OC is deeply traumatized. Reader descretion is advised.
Summary: Louise Clark is a 21-year-old woman who tries to navigate her stressful live and university. During her master semesters, she gets the opportunity to work with BTS. This job changes her live once again, causing her to face her own insecurities and growing along the people closest to her.
<<If you want to be put on a taglist, send me an ask. They're open. >>
Chapter Twenty-Three
Throne – Bring Me The Horizon
Today was our first show of our European tour. We stood backstage, carefully installing our IEMs before going on. We were all nervous as hell. Tyler played with his pick; Kate fiddled, once again, with her hearing aids; Jess stretched her fingers, bouncing up and down a little; Martin played with Mary’s fingers as they talked to Aiden; and I? I was trembling all over. My breaths came in shaky fragments. We’d done so many shows by now… why was I so nervous?
“On in ten!” someone shouted. I sat on the stairs that led to the stage. My right leg bounced as I supported my head with both hands. Take a deep breath and count: Twenty-one – out – twenty-two –in – twenty-three – out – twenty-four –in – twenty-five – out.
I closed my eyes, paying close attention to everything around me. The fans were already screaming our name. People rushed through the area, making last-minute preparations, their footsteps echoing in my ears.
“On in one!” As soon as I heard it, I stood up, taking one last deep breath before opening my eyes.
“Okay, let’s go!” I grabbed the mic, jumped up and down once, and followed the others onto the stage. The crowd roared. I took it in for a moment before starting the first song.
I wasn’t a dancer anymore, but sometimes my body still tried to move like one. In that moment, I fully realised I was a musician. A singer, a songwriter, someone who connected people through their songs. It was bittersweet.
It was different from dancing on stage and receiving applause for it. But it was still so intoxicating. I couldn’t get enough of it.
The quiet on the bus and in the hotel rooms clashed with the high we had on stage. Especially when my leg started to act up.
“Miss Clark, do you need to go to the hospital?” A paramedic squatted in front of me as she examined my leg. We had a team of them with us because of my leg, and for emergencies.
“What would happen if I said yes?” I looked helplessly at Marc. It hurt so much, and it was slightly swollen, obviously inflamed.
“Depends on the steps they’d take there. I’d prefer if we avoided that.” Marc leaned against the doorframe.
“Then I don’t want to go.” I looked at the paramedic.
“Okay, avoiding the hospital as much as possible – got it.” She rubbed a paste onto my leg, then laid a hot water bottle on it and gave me some pain medication. I swallowed it quickly. “You’ll still need to get antibiotics for the leg. I know, as a paramedic, I can’t make a diagnosis, but I have a hunch. Do you want to hear it?”
“Yes, please. I don’t want this to hold us back.” I lay down in my bunk bed.
“As far as I know, you still have all the plates and screws in your leg from the stabilisation. This wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t move as much as you do now that you’re on tour. All this movement is causing the inflammation,” the paramedic explained. I pulled the blanket over me with a sigh.
“So – in the long run – they need to be removed?” I looked at her.
“Yes, that would be the best option. Constantly taking antibiotics isn’t good for your immune system.”
“What can we do while on tour, though? I can’t just have surgery now.” It was so frustrating. The accident was slowly fading away, no longer important to me now that I’d found a new purpose. My leg acting up was just an annoying reminder of my limitations.
“Contact your primary physician as soon as possible. Get on antibiotics for the current inflammation. Make sure to rest properly between shows and keep your movement to a minimum during those periods. Massage it to relax the muscles. Whenever you’re staying overnight in a hotel, take a hot bath. Drink some antiseptic teas.” She wrote everything down.
“Thank you so much for your hard work. I really appreciate it,” I said, flashing her a crooked smile.
“Of course. That’s why I’m here.” The paramedic handed Marc the plan. “Are you allowed to contact her doctor? She needs rest now.” They both left the room, and I fell into a quiet slumber.
I woke up to Aiden giggling on top of me. I groaned slightly, and Aiden froze.
“Aiden…? What are you – hmpf!” I murmured, but Aiden placed a hand over my mouth.
“Play hide and seek,” he whispered. I just nodded slowly, placing my hand on his tiny back to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally fall.
“Aiden? You can’t be here. Your aunt is asleep,” Martin said as he came in. So he was playing with Aiden. Aiden giggled again, not realising that his father could hear him.
“There you are.” Martin opened the curtain to my bunk bed, causing blinding light to hit my eyes. I hissed and shielded my eyes with my left arm. Aiden shrieked and fell next to me onto the mattress.
“Lou, I’m so sorry. Did he wake you?” Martin sat down on the floor. He seemed… sweaty? Like, even the tiniest bit of exertion made him exhausted.
“Yes, but it’s fine. He didn’t mean to. Right, tiger?” I poked Aiden’s side, causing him to shriek again. “Are you alright, though, Martin? You seem exhausted.”
“Don’t worry about me. Family and tour are just… challenging.” He looked at Aiden, and his gaze softened immediately. “But I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Martin helped Aiden climb over me.
“Yeah, me too.” I sat up, stretching properly.
“Ah, nearly forgot. Marc said if you woke up and felt fine, you should come and see him. He reached your doctor.” Martin picked up Aiden once he stood up.
“Oh, right.” I quickly stood up and made my way to the front of the bus. We were still on our way to the next destination.
“Louise, how are you feeling?” Marc sat in a booth. Papers were scattered in front of him, his laptop open beside them.
“Way better now. Martin said you wanted to see me?” I sat down opposite him.
“Ah, yes. I reached your doctor.” Marc took off his glasses, combing through his thinning hair with one hand. “Given the circumstances, he made an exception and talked to me about your condition. Your brother chimed in and gave his permission as your next of kin, but you’ll need to write your doctor an email to confirm that it’s fine for me to talk to him about your leg.” Marc slid the laptop over to me. Writing an official permission made me uneasy. Marc wouldn’t abuse it, though… right?
“Regarding my medical care, do you need any other permissions?” I asked, opening my email account. But what if we ended up in the same situation again, and this time, I wouldn’t be able to voice my wishes, and Martin wasn’t there to chime in?
“Do you want me to? I don’t need it.” Marc leaned back, taking his bottle from the table.
“That answers my question as well…” I quickly typed out the email, hitting send a few minutes later. Given the hectic tour schedule, it was the better option to give him official permission.
“Amazing. So, here’s what I discussed with your doctor…” Marc explained in heavy detail what they’d discussed. At the next pharmacy, I had to pick up antibiotics and an antiseptic cream. Apart from that, we were to follow the course the paramedic had suggested. Not really my ideal tour life, but it was definitely the better option. I didn’t want to cancel the tour and disappoint the fans.
With that plan, we managed my flare-ups fairly well, even though they didn’t stop completely. On stage, though, all of this was forgotten. Each night, each show, we gave our souls to the crowd. It became a habit to glance behind me at Martin and the others. Seeing them behind me, together on stage, was electrifying.
Martin, especially, was glowing on stage. He seemed happiest with his guitar slung over his shoulder. He really enjoyed every second of it, which only gave me more energy to keep going.
The last show of the tour approached so quickly that we didn’t even realise it. The night before the last show, I lay in my bunk bed, massaging antiseptic cream into my leg. The curtain was drawn, but I could still hear everything going on. Martin and Mary were laughing somewhere on the bus. This tour really challenged us all. I didn’t want to know how torn Mary and Martin felt from time to time because of Aiden. But they still gave their all, for us and for Aiden. I wanted to give that back somehow.
The last show of the tour was also our best one. Marc was running around with a camera. We decided to make a little behind-the-scenes video of our last show, as a keepsake and for the fans. Jess played the moderator for the vlog. Asking each of us cheesy questions to make us laugh.
“What do you think, Louise? How deep will your next songs be?” She held her imaginary mic up to my face while I fixed my IEM shortly before the show.
“I don’t know yet, but I’m sure I can be deeper inside you.” I winked at her. Jess burst out laughing, nearly falling over. The corner of my mouth twitched, a soft smile spreading across my face.
“You’re on in ten!” I closed my eyes and started to count. I opened my eyes afterwards and jumped lightly up and down. Doing this became a ritual before each show. I looked over and saw Marc still filming me. I smiled, waved into the camera, and placed my IEMs in my ears.
The last show of our first tour. It had to be magical.
“You’re on in one!” I took my mic from someone and went on stage after the others, drowning in the crowd’s cheers.
It really turned out to be our best show. Each note was hit perfectly; there were no mistakes. We were floating across the stage. I’d thought this was only possible while dancing. Martin was grinning every time I looked back at him. Tyler sometimes came over to mock my height, causing laughter throughout the hall. Jess chimed in with inappropriate jokes. And Kate, who finally had new hearing aids, sometimes threw her sticks at Jess whenever she took it a step too far. There was one intermission that I’ll carry with me until I die.
Before we started the next song, I sat down and looked out over the crowd, spotting a sign with something written on it. I scootched towards the edge and tried to read it.
“Guys, can someone tell me what’s written on that sign? I think I need glasses.” I laughed, squinting.
“I know you’re tiny, but this shouldn’t affect your eyesight.” Tyler stood next to me, squinting at the sign himself.
“What sign?” Martin came over to me as well.
“This one.” I pointed at it. The three of us squinted harder.
“My parents are racist and homophobic. What should I do?” Tyler read it out loud.
“Oh, darling. And they allowed you to be here? Tsk, tsk, tsk.” My voice was dripping with sarcasm.
“Lou, you’re supposed to help people in situations like this.” Martin ruffled my hair. “Not make fun of them.” I pushed him away with a grin.
“Okay, serious mode. Do you feel safe at home?” I looked at her, trying to understand what she said, but the crowd was too loud.
“Oi, guys! Be quiet for a second! Louise wants to hold a conversation.” Jess was the one shouting into the mic.
“Thank you, honey.” I winked at Jess, then looked back at the young girl. A faint “Yes, I feel safe” reached my ears.
“Okay, that’s good. Would you still feel safe if you spoke against their beliefs?” I took one of my in-ears out to hear her better.
“Yes, I think so!” I could finally hear her properly.
“That’s amazing. Then I have only one thing to say.” I smirked.
“Every racist is a fucking cunt!” I sang, holding my mic out to the crowd straight after.
“Every racist is a fucking cunt!” The crowd screamed back.
“Every homophobe is a fucking cunt!” I held my mic out again.
“Every homophobe is a fucking cunt!”
“Thank you!”
“You’re welcome!” I burst out laughing.
I’ll never forget that.
~~~~~
Jeongguk was giggling uncontrollably as he heard the crowd’s response.
“I can’t believe you did that.” He tried to muffle his laugh with his hand but failed miserably.
“The last show was in London. Football fans sometimes do things like this, and I wanted to try it out.” I was giggling as well by then. It really was silly. “I didn’t think it would actually work.” I leaned over to drink something, thinking back on that magical night.
“That night, everything was right. The music, our found family, our love for music, and our fans. I wished I could freeze that moment. Forever. But Martin… he was already fighting something back then – and none of us knew. We didn’t even have the tiniest idea. Yes, he was often tired, more exhausted than any of us. But… Aiden was with us. His child. We all thought it was just… maybe too much? Yet he was radiating such happiness, on and off stage. None of us questioned it…”
“Lou, his death isn’t your fault,” Jeongguk mumbled as he took one of my hands.
“But… what if I had pushed him more to get checked out? Maybe… maybe we could’ve done something.”
“Lou…”
“I feel like I didn’t do enough. He cared so much about us all and put our needs above his. Why didn’t I–”
“Lou.”
“Why didn’t I push more? Do the things he always did: care so deeply about others, push further. I–”
“Lou!” Jeongguk grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. “It wasn’t your fault. As you said, no one even had the idea that something was wrong. I need you to know that you bear no fault in this.”
“I–I know that…” Tears formed in my eyes. “I know there’s nothing I could’ve done to prevent his death… and that’s what makes it even more terrible.”
PLEASE STOP SAY "CONSUMING" AND "MEDIAS" AND "CONTENT" PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE SAY WATCHING A FILM, LISTENING TO MUSIC, LOOKING AT/ENJOYING ART, READING A BOOK
"Consuming" is a capitalist/neo-fascist way to interact with art, it forces to treat art as a product to be thrown away once we're done with it, and to rebrand creativity as productivity (especially with the rise of AI). IT MAKES ME WANT TO CRAWL OUT OF MY SKIN why is everyone saying that ugly awful word!! And don't get me started on "content" !!
Art takes hours, pain, doubt, passion, inspiration, a piece of self, creativity, and human experience. Stop reducing it to something to consume, it's so degrading for artists.
looong oneshot/series that will be posted in one go. royal au. arranged marriage. prince/jk x princess!reader.
you’re destined to be. but sadly not written in the starts, like in fairytales. your names are bound together in a contract to ensure unity between two kingdoms. and for every summer, you’re scheduled to spend your day at his fathers castle. until one day, after your twentieth birthday, when the king passes, and jungkook is to take his place — and make you his queen.
UNTIL SPARKS FLY ! park jimin
mini-series. flirty!jimin. friends to lovers.
your friendgroup has always been a mess. and that mess is now headed for a cabin trip, but there’s a hidden agenda. because this cabin trip is merely a scheme — your friends trying to force you and jimin into a relationship.
Warning: This story WILL touch very sensitive topics, like suicide, selfharm, self-hatred, etc. OC is deeply traumatized. Reader descretion is advised.
Summary: Louise Clark is a 21-year-old woman who tries to navigate her stressful live and university. During her master semesters, she gets the opportunity to work with BTS. This job changes her live once again, causing her to face her own insecurities and growing along the people closest to her.
<<If you want to be put on a taglist, send me an ask. They're open. >>
Chapter Twenty-Two
Shake It Out – Florence + The Machine
A few hours later, a crying baby lay in Mary’s arms. She was utterly exhausted, sweat rolling down her face as she kissed Aiden’s forehead. She cried and laughed at the same time, caressing Aiden’s head over and over.
“You did amazing, my love,” Martin mumbled as he kissed Mary’s forehead. I sat on a chair beside them. I regretted being there – not because I regret supporting them, but because I didn’t want to intrude on their moment. So, I stayed quiet, watching their loving touches. In that moment, I didn’t belong there.
“Thank you, LouLou.” Mary grabbed my hand, smiling tiredly.
“Of course.” I smiled, tears forming in my eyes. The pressure of the birth slowly lifted from my shoulders. And I wasn’t even the one who had given birth.
A few weeks later, I was finally allowed to hold him. Mary and Martin were very particular about it. I was out of the house more than both of them once university classes started.
“You have to support his head,” Mary corrected gently as she watched me.
“I know.” I smiled softly, looking at Aiden. He was so fucking cute. Damn, this child had me wrapped around his finger before he could even crawl.
“Why am I so nervous?” Mary rubbed her palms over her thighs. Martin took her hands softly in his.
“You’re scared something will happen. It’s fine.” They looked at each other, exchanging gazes I hadn’t known could carry so much meaning.
“Do you want to take a nap or a shower? I’ll be with him.” He kissed her forehead, and Mary finally started to relax. Without saying anything, she stood up and left the room.
“How long do you think she’ll sleep?” I asked and leaned back, adjusting the way I held Aiden.
“Depends on how long Aiden stays quiet. If we do a good job, she’ll sleep for hours. If she even hears one cry, she’ll come running,” Martin guessed. We laughed at the image of a half-asleep Mary coming towards us.
“I guess we have to do a good job then.” The smile on my face didn’t falter for a moment.
Aiden changed so much in our lives – from our daily routines to our rehearsals. Rehearsals were now accompanied by a tiny human being in a cradle, leading to long nights. Whenever Aiden couldn’t sleep, neither could we. We weren’t a band anymore. We were a family – and we carried each other, both on stage and through sleepless nights.
By the time spring came, we were accustomed to this schedule. Everything was centred around Aiden and his needs. Attending gigs and doing shows were still possible, though. Maybe this was because he had been present during rehearsals – Aiden could sleep wherever and whenever he wanted.
“Next up on today’s stage – and the headliner – Chords of Ash!” The crowd roared in excitement as we made our way onto the stage of a spring festival. We were drowning in ecstasy while performing, carrying this energy off stage as well. We jumped up and down, discussing the gig. We stopped in our tracks when we saw someone talking to Mary.
“Is everything alright?” Martin put his arm around her shoulder, puffing out his chest as he looked the man up and down.
“Yes, I was just discussing something with your… manager.” He looked Mary up and down. I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I stepped beside Martin, my heels scraping loudly against the floor.
“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. Miss Carter’s work is extraordinary. I was just wondering whether it’s a fitting description. She’s more than just your manager,” the man explained and held his hands up in defence, making me squint at him.
“Guys, this is Marc Donovan. He’s with Saviour Management.” Mary looked at us, silently signalling us to behave.
“Why do they care about us?” Kate laughed as she fiddled with her hearing aids. All the noise must be confusing right now.
“We want to represent you,” Marc stated and put his hands behind his back, as if showing he was serious. Tyler’s jaw dropped.
“Huh? Are you serious?” he asked, already beaming with excitement, while Martin and I exchanged worried glances.
“Of course, I am. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.” Marc opened his briefcase, pulled out a stack of papers, and handed them to Mary. “This is a draft of the contract. Feel free to make any suggestions you want and get back to me once you’ve made a decision.”
Mary took the contract and handed it over to Martin. Her hands were full with Aiden anyway.
“Have a nice day – and I hope to hear from you soon.” With that, Marc was gone as quickly as he appeared. Jess, Tyler, and Kate jumped up and down, screeching with excitement.
“We can really go big. Finally!” Tyler punched the air. But Martin and I – we shared a concerned look. Didn’t joining the industry mean we had to sell our souls?
“Honey, I’ll make sure the contract is completely to your liking, okay?” Mary put a hand on Martin’s cheek, gently forcing him to look at her.
“I’m still worried about how this could influence us,” Martin murmured, leaning into her touch.
“I know.” She sighed, looking at me afterwards. “What would you like?”
“Huh? What do you mean?” I furrowed my brows.
“In the contract – what would you like in it?”
“Oh…” I crossed my arms, looking up – thinking about what would be most important to me. “Full creative autonomy for songs, stage presence, and PR.” Mary nodded.
“I’ll make sure you have that. Pinky promise.” She held out her pinky, and I interlocked mine with hers. It might be silly, but it calmed me immensely.
A week later, we arrived at a huge building in central London. Aiden was with Mary’s parents, and we all looked very polished, but still like ourselves. Even though we wore button-down shirts, we still carried that band vibe with us. It was magical. But the building seemed far too polished for my liking. Everything was black and white, with no decorations as well.
“I’m so glad to have you here. Do you want anything to drink?” Marc sat down on one side of the table, and we sat on the other. Two other men sat with Marc.
“Yes, that would be great. Three sparkling waters and three still ones, please.” Mary immediately took charge of the situation. Martin sat closest to her, holding her hand under the table to calm her. She wouldn’t dare show it, but she was very nervous.
“Coming right up. Could you do this, please, Miss Brown? Thank you.” Marc nodded towards a younger woman – maybe a secretary or an intern – who immediately stepped out. I furrowed my brows. At least he was polite about his order…
“Okay, let’s talk about the contract. You made some interesting… suggestions that I’d like to discuss.” Marc opened a folder in front of him, and that was the moment I zoned out.
I didn’t care about all this legal stuff. I knew Mary would handle it. We had all told her in detail what was important to us – the things we could compromise on and the things we couldn’t.
I watched her closely as she negotiated the terms with Marc. She looked exhausted. Aiden was now half a year old, and he kept us all busy. But even though Mary seemed at her limit, she was glowing, loving the work she was doing. In that moment, she wasn’t just Martin’s girlfriend, my best friend, or our manager. She was our shield from the ruthless industry.
The corner of my lips twitched as I took in the room. It smelled of leather and coffee, lit by blinding neon lights. The sparkling waters sizzled quietly. The three men in front of us wore black suits. The whole room was intimidating. It felt suffocating, my stomach rumbling with nervousness.
“Miss Clark, why is full creative autonomy so important to you?” Marc interrupted my thoughts, and my head snapped in his direction.
“Without music, I wouldn’t have survived. If you take this from me, my way to express myself without regret, I’ll crumble again. I don’t think either of us wants that.” I tilted my head slightly, leaning back and spreading my legs a little. Marc looked me over – and I lifted my chin. What’s he trying to find out?
“Are we still allowed to make suggestions?” Marc leaned back as well, making me squint at him.
“You can suggest whatever you want. Hell, you could suggest I wear pink and sing country songs. But it’s my voice. If I don’t feel it, I won’t sing it.” We stared at each other until he sighed.
“Fine. It’s settled then.”
An hour later, I stared at the signature line in horror. It felt like a trap. The room was filled with a sense of professionalism. I hated it. I watched the others as they signed, the pen scraping loudly against the paper. Jess’s leg bounced underneath the table; Tyler was already imagining our world tour – his eyes sparkling with excitement; Kate fiddled with her hearing aids; and Martin squeezed Mary’s hand so hard that his knuckles turned white.
This wasn’t us experimenting with music anymore. If we failed, not only would our lives be affected. Aiden’s future revolved around this, too.
My hand shook as I took the pen from Martin. This was paperwork, deadlines, professionalism.
I signed anyway.
Management gave us everything we could have wished for. Our equipment was much better now – the amps actually worked the way they should. The producers mostly watched over us and only chimed in whenever we seemed stuck. They even allowed Aiden into the rehearsal space, so he could get used to the cleaner sound.
Within half a year, we produced our second album, Ashes & Echoes. This time, our promotional period was strong. We did regular livestreams to connect with our fans, inspired by what BTS did. We stole the idea from K-pop, I’ll admit that, and it worked incredibly well. We started a merchandise shop, including baby and children’s clothes, since Aiden was a huge part of our band life.
On Aiden’s first birthday, the album dropped, and we played a release show, performing all our new songs live. Halfway through the show, I took the mic from the stand, stepped towards the centre near the edge of the stage, and screamed the lyrics until my throat burned – and the crowd screamed along. The words, the songs I wrote on nights Aiden kept us awake, came alive in that very moment, screamed by a few hundred people. I wasn’t singing to them in that moment – I was screaming with them.
Adrenaline rushed through my veins until we went backstage. My hands were visibly shaking, making it difficult to sign all those records, shirts, and posters. I was sweaty and shaky.
“Drink this.” Martin tossed a water bottle to me. I caught it and emptied it quickly. My hand and leg hurt, but it felt amazing. We felt amazing.
“They see us, Lou! They really see us!” Martin hugged me tightly at the end of the night. I laughed, hugging him just as tightly.
“I’m so happy we started this – together. I wouldn’t change it for the world.” He picked me up, and together we twirled happily through the backstage area.
The following months became a blur once again. Between larger growing gigs, university, and rehearsals, Aiden had to fit in somewhere. It was so difficult to manage. No wonder Mary broke down from time to time.
“I – I need a break. Can you take care of him for the night?” Mary stood in my doorway, tears streaming down her face.
“Of course. You need some alone time with Martin?” I took Aiden in my arms. He was half asleep, wrapping his arms around my neck. Mary just nodded as she closed the door behind her. She didn’t even have the energy to talk anymore.
“Lu, Mum okay?” Aiden looked at me with teary eyes.
“Of course, honey.” I rubbed his back as we sat down on my bed.
“Then why tears?” He made himself comfortable in my lap.
“Sometimes, your mum uses too much of her energy. Like you, when you play too much and fall asleep on your way home.” I pushed a few strands of hair from his face. “Do you understand that?” He nodded, grabbing my finger.
“But your mum can’t just fall asleep whenever she wants to. She has a lot of responsibilities, and sometimes she pushes herself too far.” I wiggled my finger, making him giggle. “When this happens, she tends to cry and just needs some time with your dad. She’ll be her old self tomorrow.”
Aiden looked up at me, eyes wide and sparkling. “But why cry?”
I chuckled. “You cry too when you don’t understand something. It’s similar for your mum.”
“Ohh.” He nuzzled against me. Oh, how much I loved this child. I might not have given birth to him, but I would do everything in my power to protect him. I would burn the world down for him. At eighteen, I held proof in my arms that life didn’t end when something bad happened.
I started humming a soft melody while tucking Aiden in. He fell asleep quickly. Still humming, I built a pillow fortress around us so he wouldn’t fall out, and together, we lay in my bed.
2015 quickly approached, and in January, one of our songs went viral online.
“Holy shit, have you seen this?” Tyler burst into the room, waving his phone wildly.
“What do you mean?” I stood up, grabbing his phone to look at the screen properly. The streams had exploded. We were sitting at nearly two million streams – Fading Echoes had gone viral overnight. My throat tightened as I frantically opened our Instagram account. Thousands of comments flooded in; our inbox was full of hundreds of direct messages. As I scrolled through Instagram, I saw fan art after fan art.
My legs gave out, my knees hitting the floor violently.
“Fuck, Lou. Are you alright?” Martin knelt down in front of me, looking at me with concern. I stumbled over my words, unable to articulate anything coherent. Instead, I just started crying tears of joy.
This kick-started our career, and we began planning a European tour for the summer.
“You’re going on tour,” Marc said as if it wasn’t a huge breakthrough. We sat in our meeting room, and Marc sat behind his desk with a serious demeanour, a map of Europe spread out on the table. Even though we had expected a tour soon, hearing Marc say it out loud caught us all off guard.
“Are you not excited?” Marc looked a little confused. Usually, we’d be ecstatic with such big news. Instead, we were all quiet.
“Well, of course. What do you think we work so hard for?” Martin crossed his arms.
“For Aiden?” Marc joked, but Martin just raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, okay.” Marc raised his hands in defence. “What cities do you definitely want to include, and do you want a tour bus?” We discussed our wishes for the tour in great detail. Whenever we ran into a problem, got stuck, or needed a break, Mary advocated for us. Once again, she was our voice of reason, our shield, and our support. But the upcoming tour, this wasn’t survival anymore – it was living.
Warning: This story WILL touch very sensitive topics, like suicide, selfharm, self-hatred, etc. OC is deeply traumatized. Reader descretion is advised.
Summary: Louise Clark is a 21-year-old woman who tries to navigate her stressful live and university. During her master semesters, she gets the opportunity to work with BTS. This job changes her live once again, causing her to face her own insecurities and growing along the people closest to her.
<<If you want to be put on a taglist, send me an ask. They're open. >>
Chapter Twenty-One
Dog Days Are Over – Florence + The Machine
We finished the album much faster than I expected, but it was a lot of work. I often stayed up late to finish a song, papers scattered around me, my guitar resting on my lap, melodies forming in my mind before I even had the chance to play them. Still, writing an album wasn’t a conscious choice. Once we discovered our sound during rehearsals, we started working on songs – not because we wanted to, but because we needed to.
“Okay, everyone, gather around. I want to discuss something,” Mary said during rehearsals on Martin’s birthday. We all sat down, looking at her expectantly.
“I talked to my parents – and they agreed. Even though our music isn’t exactly their cup of tea, they want to support us.” Mary was beaming with excitement. “As a birthday present for you, Martin, and for all of us, they’re sponsoring a recording studio.” We all looked at her in shock; Tyler’s jaw practically hit the floor. She must be kidding. Right?
“You’re kidding…” Martin stood up and gently grabbed her shoulders.
“I’m not kidding. We’re recording the first album.” Mary smiled widely and giggled as she took in our surprised faces.
“Fuck, you’re amazing.” Martin hugged her tightly and kissed her a moment later.
“When do we start?” Tyler asked. The room buzzed with excitement. Jess and Kate were already discussing what we needed. We couldn’t wait for the recording session to start.
“As soon as you want to. Just say the word, and my parents and I will organise everything.” Mary put her arms around Martin, hugging him tightly.
“I guess as soon as possible, then.”
A week later, we were all sitting in a small recording studio. We had no idea what we were doing, but that was what the producer was there for. He helped us with everything but didn’t intervene in our recording or creative process. He was amazing.
“I’m sorry, Miss Clark, but we’ll need another take. It’s still overdriven.” The producer sighed and changed the settings again. I groaned, took a sip of water, and counted silently. This was – what? The fifth take?
“Okay, start,” the producer said. I got ready and screamed the lyrics into the mic yet again. Afterwards, I looked at the producer expectantly, and he gave me a thumbs-up. Finally, it was adjusted correctly. We continued recording peacefully until Martin suddenly changed a riff we had already agreed on multiple times.
“Dude, you can’t just change a riff mid-recording!” Tyler said. He crossed his arms, his bass slung low against his shoulder, a pick clenched in one hand.
“I just wanted to check what it would sound like. Once it’s recorded, we can’t change it anymore,” Martin said and rolled his eyes.
“The song was finished. Why do you suddenly feel the need to experiment with it?” Tyler exclaimed and slung his bass behind his back. I sighed as I watched them argue back and forth.
“Oi! Quit it! Martin, don’t just change riffs mid-recording. If you want to experiment, just say it, and we’ll take a short break,” Mary intervened. “And Tyler, don’t just start arguing out of nowhere. It’ll only make things more complicated.” Yet again, Mary was the one who pulled us all together when we faced an obstacle. She sat back down in her chair, placed her notebook in her lap, and wrote something down. Maybe concepts for the cover art?
It slowly felt like we were starting to make history. A group of kids with borrowed gear and borrowed time stood in a cramped recording studio, armed with nothing but an idea of what was to come.
“Lou, this is it. This is our way out – our way up.” Martin said and gently grabbed my shoulders as we finished recording for the day.
“You think so?” I asked. My eyes seemed to sparkle as I thought about what we could achieve if we worked hard enough.
“Yes, absolutely. Just wait for the reactions.”
On my birthday, our debut album, Ashes & Arrows, dropped. And even though our promotion was shit, it still created a small buzz in England. Mary was swamped with emails about interviews, gigs, and statements. Reviews were all over the internet, with a Metacritic page quickly emerging. It was a high I’d never imagined.
On top of all that, I had to prepare for my final exams. That period was extremely hectic, but it was also so fucking amazing.
“Are you sure you want to do all the gigs at the weekends? Your final exams are approaching. Fast,” Mary said. She and I sat on my bed. We were discussing the schedule for the next few weeks. Considering the exams, she wanted to run the schedule by me before discussing it with the others.
“Yes, I’m entirely sure. I’d hate it if we had to stop the hype because of my exams,” I said. I leaned back against my headboard, my left leg once again propped up on a pillow. All the rehearsals over the last few days had caused a flare-up.
“Alright, we’ll do that, then.”
Two days later, we played our first official gig. We poured everything we had onto that stage, and the crowd’s energy surged back at us; raw and unrelenting. When I heard – and fully realised – that people were singing and screaming along to our songs, I wanted to cry. I had written most of the songs on nights when I couldn’t sleep. And yet, here they were – alive in other people’s mouths.
None of us could sleep after that gig, so we sat in our garage, chatting and celebrating our small victory. We were on an absolute high. All the people I held close to my heart were in one room, and I couldn’t have been happier.
“LouLou, can we talk?” I looked over to Mary, who seemed very nervous.
“Yes, of course. What is it?” Her hands were shaking. I gently took them, and she led me to my room. I sat down while she paced around my room.
“Mary, darling, please tell me. Why are you so on edge?” I asked and leaned back on my hands. She stopped and turned to me, tears in her eyes.
“I-oh God… I’m pregnant.” Her voice was shaking, tears rolling down her face. I froze for a moment, my heart sinking in panic. We were still kids, trying to figure everything out, and now… this. I quickly stood up and hugged her – and as I patted her back, I realised one thing.
“We’ll figure this out. If I survived losing my dream, then you’ll survive this – and I’ll be with you every step of the way,” I said. She hugged me tightly as she cried her soul out.
“Does my brother know?” I asked. She shook her head.
“I needed to tell you first,” she answered. I nodded and handed her a tissue. She took it, blew her nose, and dried her tears, taking a shaky breath afterwards. “Do you think he’ll be mad?”
“It takes two people to make a child, darling. If he gets mad, I’ll beat him up,” I joked, fully intending to make her laugh. And it worked. She giggled. “Do you want me to be there?” She nodded again. “Then I’ll be there.” I took her hand, and together we led Martin out of the garage.
“What is it?” He asked and looked at Mary, and his eyes widened. “Did you cry? What happened?” Martin quickly took her face in his hands, looking at her with deep concern.
“I-I have to tell you something.” Mary closed her eyes, took another shaky breath, and placed her hands on his. “I’m pregnant.” Martin’s eyes widened, his jaw dropped, and for a few seconds, he could only stare at her.
“You’re pregnant?” He asked. Mary nodded, smiling through tears. “Oh, Jesus…” Martin hugged her tightly and kissed her forehead. They looked at each other, tears in their eyes, yet smiling. Even though a child would complicate everything for all of us, I was sure we’d find a way to make it work.
Martin and Mary told the others shortly after, and they were all just as happy for them as I was. However, our parents reacted very differently. While Mary’s parents were very supportive, Martin’s parents and mine had… disagreements.
“Oh, what will the neighbourhood think? Having a child at such a young age? How reckless…” Mom said. But she came around eventually.
“You’re pregnant?” Father looked at Mary with disgust. “Well, I’m sure you know what to do, since you’ll be parents soon.” He was not pleased, to put it lightly. He never said it aloud to Mary, but I saw it in his eyes – the hatred at her for ruining the picture-perfect family he paraded to the world. And I hated him for it.
It was clear that we wouldn’t receive much support from my parents. At least, Father didn’t kick Martin out immediately.
On top of my exam preparation and all the gigs came the preparations for the baby as well. I didn’t know how we managed it, but we did.
I graduated exceptionally well. I was one of the best in my year.
“And now, Louise Clark!” I stood up as soon as the principal called my name and made my way onto the stage while everyone around me clapped. I looked down the stage and saw my family, Mary, who was visibly pregnant by now, and my other bandmates. They were all there to cheer me on as I received my high school diploma.
“Thank you.” I took the diploma and shook hands with my teachers. And even though I should’ve been ecstatic, I didn’t feel free in the slightest. The weight of everything pressed down on me – band life, Aiden, and the sheer responsibility of growing up. As I stepped down from the stage, I thought of all the doors waiting to be opened – and the ones that had slammed shut behind me forever. My parents hugged me first, and then Martin, Mike, Mary, Jess, Tyler, and Kate – each congratulating me on graduating.
“I guess you’re the only one left in the nest, Mikey,” I joked as I lightly punched my younger brother’s side. He rolled his eyes.
“Not only that, but you’ll be moving out soon as well. So I really am the last one.” He looked annoyed, like he didn’t want to be there.
“Oh, please. You’ll love being the last one. Mom will pamper you even more.” I chuckled but stopped as soon as I caught my father’s warning gaze. Of course, I shouldn’t upset the picture-perfect youngest.
“Do you want to leave? We still need to pack. Moving day is in two weeks,” Mary said and took one of my hands. Martin had his arms around her waist, and somehow they looked like they’d loved each other for over fifty years, even though their relationship was only a year old. They were truly made for each other.
“Yes, let’s go.” While packing, we discussed layouts and plans for the house. Mary’s parents insisted that my brother and I move in with Mary, while they moved into a small flat, just the two of them. We tried to convince them to stay and said we’d find a place ourselves, but they claimed it would be easier this way.
The next few months passed in a blur. We researched parenting advice day and night. Maybe that research led to my decision to study English and Music Education. It would help with songwriting, but it would also allow me to make sure Aiden had an amazing education.
But after all the late nights and helping Mary through her pregnancy, I noticed one thing. The past few years have not been kind to me. Losing dance broke me into pieces, and music glued me back together; uneven, but enough to continue. Maybe Aiden wasn’t the end, just the start of something bigger–bigger than all of us. And yet, it felt strange. The long rehearsals blended with preparations; not for gigs, but for Aiden. It was a strange way to realise that we all had to grow up faster than we’d anticipated.
Of course, all of this became fuel for our second album. This back and forth between worlds stretched us all thin, but one thing remained. We managed to get through it because of the music that connected us, music we created together.
“Uh, LouLou?” I was sitting on the couch in our living room. I was trying to piece together the crib we’d just bought.
“Yes? What is it?” I continued to study the manual but looked up immediately when I heard Mary whine.
“I- puh, this hurts. I think he’s coming.” I quickly stood up, placing a hand on her stomach. Mary leaned against the doorframe, one hand pressed to her stomach as well.
“Martin! Get the car!” I gently rubbed her back while Mary tried to keep her breathing as steady as possible.
“What? Why?” Martin rushed into the living room.
“Oh shit, where’s the hospital bag?” He panicked as soon as he realised what was going on, running to their shared bedroom and becoming increasingly frantic. “Oh fuck, oh fuck. It’s happening. Do we have to hurry? Oh fuck.” I tried to guide Mary as best I could, while Martin panicked more than both of us combined.
But it felt like I did a shitty job calming Mary in the backseat. I was seventeen and suddenly – there would be Aiden. A legacy. At the start of the year, we thought we were invincible, and that belief still remained. We started to believe it was true and unshakable.
a feel like the new generation of fanfic readers NEED to understand that clicking on a fic (interaction) does nothing. ao3 has no algorithm. your private discord discussions of fic do not reach the authors. if you do not actively engage with writers they will stop posting. this isn’t social media this is community.
Warning: This story WILL touch very sensitive topics, like suicide, selfharm, self-hatred, etc. OC is deeply traumatized. Reader descretion is advised.
Summary: Louise Clark is a 21-year-old woman who tries to navigate her stressful live and university. During her master semesters, she gets the opportunity to work with BTS. This job changes her live once again, causing her to face her own insecurities and growing along the people closest to her.
<<If you want to be put on a taglist, send me an ask. They're open. >>
Chapter Twenty
Sleepwalking – Bring Me The Horizon
I spent three months in an inpatient rehabilitation facility. The accident meant I had to relearn how to walk from scratch, and that process had to take place in a facility. Returning to school afterwards was terrible. Everyone treated me differently, yet academically, I performed even better than before. The facility offered tutoring, and whenever I had free time, I either studied or filled my notebooks.
The months dragged on, and a year later, I found myself sitting in my room. Soft, cozy lights glowed around me, and my notebooks from the past year were scattered nearby.
The accident had happened nearly a year ago. And as long as I took frequent breaks during the day, my leg barely hurt. But the flare-ups still occasionally happened. I noticed that my leg hurt more whenever it rained. Sometimes, the pain became so intense that we had to go to the hospital. I was quickly placed on a pain management plan to handle flare-ups by myself.
At the moment, my leg rested on a comfortable pillow, slightly elevated to avoid pressure. My guitar leaned against the bed, and an old keyboard lay in the middle of my room. Martin sat on the floor in front of the keyboard, randomly pressing notes.
“Why do you want to turn my… poems into songs?” I asked, watching him closely.
“Lou… you’ve given up so much. People should hear that. The world needs to hear your story – not just read it. Just try to play something. It doesn’t have to follow any rules. Maybe something will feel right?” Martin looked up from the keyboard. With a sigh, I picked up my guitar and strummed aimlessly. I played chord after chord until, finally, a melody slowly emerged, and as soon as it did, I knew exactly which poem would fit to it. Not because the words fit but because the emotion did. I played alongside my brother until my fingers ached so much that we had to stop for the day.
That moment made me realise that maybe, even though I could no longer dance across a stage and captivate an audience, I could still make something crash against the silence dance had left behind. Dance had been my way of expressing myself silently, but I had finally found a way to be loud about who I was.
A few days later, Martin and I were sitting in the garage. We had rebuilt it into a music rehearsal space. It took a lot of begging my father, but we finally managed it. The final argument was that if we couldn’t have the garage, we would need to use either the living room or his hobby room in the basement. He hated those suggestions even more, so we ended up getting the garage.
“Do you think we should try to get a bass?” Martin asked as I assembled the old drum kit. I tightened the last screw and sat down on the stool behind the kit.
“Do you think we’ll need it?” I asked, stretching as I picked up the drumsticks.
“Maybe, I don’t know. I could ask Tyler if he’d let me borrow his bass.” He sat down on one of the amps, resting his electric guitar in his lap. I just shrugged and started hitting the drums. At first, it was pure chaos – a mess of snares and beats. Then, the noise began to fall into place, steadying like a heartbeat. Martin tried to play along, and we sounded terrible at first. But then, all of a sudden, it sounded like one whole thing. What we played worked amazingly well together, and when we finished, I jumped up in excitement and hugged him tightly.
“Did you just hear how amazing that was? It sounded like our music was… I don’t know.”
“One?” Martin pushed me away playfully. I beamed at him, which he returned with a gentle smile.
“Yes, it sounded like our music was one.” I jumped up and down excitedly before sitting behind the drums again, letting my overflowing energy spill out. In that moment, we weren’t just brother and sister anymore. We became something louder. Like our music, we became one. One musical soul, you could say.
Martin quickly joined in, and we played until our father burst in, screaming at us to be quiet.
“Louise! Stop it with the drums! My daughter will not play that noise! Get away from it! And change your clothes – a colleague and his son are coming to dinner.” With that, he stormed off again. I sighed, my shoulders slumping.
“Don’t take his words to heart, Lou. You know how much he cares about the image of our family. We’ll prove him wrong through our music.” Martin ruffled my hair, making me smile despite myself not wanting to. “Just make sure to scare that colleague’s son off. Or make it clear that you’d be a terrible match.” I didn’t know what Martin meant, but I did as he told me. I never saw that colleague or his son again.
That night, I found myself back in the garage. The jam session from earlier had given me so much energy that I couldn’t sleep, so I sat in the garage with Martin’s electric guitar in my lap, headphones on, playing unrefined chords over and over again. Loose pages laid scattered around me, and in that chaos, the first lyrics to Fractures formed in my head. As I wrote down everything that came to mind, adding chords to words and words to chords, Martin came in, stopping in his tracks as soon as he realised what I was doing. I looked up to see him standing in the doorway and took off my headphones.
“You can’t sleep either?” I asked, leaning against the amp behind me.
“Are you… writing a song?” It sounded as though he needed to reassure himself that he wasn’t dreaming. I chuckled and nodded.
“Yes, I think I am,” I admitted. He quickly closed the door behind him and locked it, making sure not even our father could interrupt us.
“Whatever you have in mind, sing it,” he instructed. I nodded, plugging the guitar into the amp, switching it on and setting the volume to its quietest level. After a moment of hesitation, I started playing.
“Where I should’ve bent, I broke. The fractures and pain making me choke.” That last line carried so much meaning that I had to scream it. When I finished, I looked at Martin hesitantly; he was standing there with his mouth open.
“Redo that.” He grabbed the guitar from me, and together we wrote Fractures that night. It was just a demo, with an electric guitar line and my voice. It was nowhere near finished, but it was a beginning. The beginning of something big. Through the way Martin helped me write this first song, he gave me the feeling that I wasn’t – in fact – broken to pieces. I was just unfinished, until now.
A week later, Tyler joined us in the garage. Playing with him was a lot of fun, and he contributed immensely to our first song. His bass line gave the song a sense of stability. During this time, Mary started accompanying us during rehearsals. I was so focused on the music and the release it gave me that I accidentally ignored her from time to time.
“LouLou, you forgot our date again?” she sulked as I picked up the phone.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I got carried away during rehearsal.” I ruffled my hair, panic slowly rising inside me. Mary laughed on the other end of the line.
“Don’t worry, darling. I’m already on my way to you. I’ll be in the garage in five. Make sure you have something to drink for me, and maybe a snack, and I’ll forgive you.”
“I’ll gladly be your snack, then.” I giggled as I headed to the kitchen to get something ready.
“You know I don’t swing that way.” I laughed, and from that moment on, Mary was always with us during rehearsals.
Two weeks later, we realised that I wouldn’t be able to play the drums and sing. Not to mention that playing the drums triggered flare-ups. Luckily, group therapy was scheduled the following week, and I talked about it there. Afterwards, I met Kate. She was picking up her older brother, and he introduced us. We quickly connected.
“You know what? You should come by and rehearse with us sometime. I think you’d fit in with us really well,” I said. I had my mind set on her joining us. She seemed amazing.
“Oh, I’ll gladly do that. Let me give you my number, and text me later with your rehearsal times. I’ll be there,” she said. I nodded, handed her my phone, and smiled brightly. What had started as a spark born from ruin was slowly becoming a fire.
“This is Kate. I met her after my therapy session the day before yesterday, and her brother told me she’s an amazing drummer.” I introduced her to the other three, who nodded in agreement. The first hour was somewhat awkward, but we quickly fell into harmony with each other. Since I hadn’t written another song, we covered a few instead, but we quickly noticed something was still missing. But none of us knew anyone who might fit. So it was just the four of us, and Mary, in the rehearsal space.
“Lou, you wanted to do a workshop for screaming, right?” Mary approached me before a session. I nodded, tilting my head in question. She glanced sheepishly over at Martin before beaming at me.
“I found one this weekend and already signed you up for it. I’m sure it’ll be amazing. It has very good reviews.”
“But I have to study for my exams this weekend,” I mumbled.
“You’ll manage. It’s only on Saturday. Martin already said he’d drive you back and forth.” So that was why she’d looked over at him earlier. I ended up agreeing.
And Mary ended up being right. I learned a lot about breath control and how to growl and scream without hurting my vocal cords. Additionally, I met Jess there. During the introduction, we all talked about why we were there, and Jess approached me afterwards.
“Can I maybe join you sometime soon? I want to join a band, but I don’t know anyone, and it seemed like you still needed someone,” she asked. I smiled widely.
“That would be amazing. What do you play?” I pulled out my phone and handed it to her.
“Guitar and piano. But my heart belongs to the synthesiser. It makes everything feel… complete. You know?” I nodded, watching as she typed in her number.
“I’ll text you the time and place later. My brother’s here to pick me up. See you soon.” I waved at her and rushed over to Martin, who was leaning against the car in the parking lot.
“Who was that?” he asked as he opened the door, and I slipped in.
“I think she’s the one that’s still missing,” I said. Martin laughed, and I texted Jess the time and place of our next rehearsal.
During that rehearsal, the first spark suddenly became a raging fire. After the first awkward moments, we all fell into place with one another. I screamed the lyrics into the mic; Martin played along on his guitar, Kate was killing it on the drums, Tyler added steadiness, and Jess gave us the atmosphere that had still been missing. I felt as though we were flying inside our own bubble. Mary stood on one of the amps, taking photos of us from various angles. She became our assistant, organising things and making sure we were all right. When we finished, we all sat down, but Martin and Mary were unusually close to one another.
“Mary and Martin sitting in a tree~” I sang teasingly, and to my surprise, Mary looked away, embarrassed, while Martin shot me a warning glance. This was unusual. Was there actually … something? No, it couldn’t be. But then, why were they acting this way?
I watched them closely for the rest of the rehearsal. There were lingering touches and glances. My best friend and my brother had actually started a relationship with each other! Or – more likely – they were about to. And even though I should have been worried, I was pleased. My two favourite people becoming a couple felt amazing. I had thought Mary and Martin would always be mine, separate from each other. They were my anchors, my pillars against everything life threw at me. I hadn’t thought they would eventually start relying on each other as well.
But apart from the beginning of Martin and Mary’s relationship, we also started Chords of Ash. Whenever we were in that place, practising and working on our songs, we weren’t just kids fumbling in a garage. We became infinite with every lyric sung, every chord played, every drum hit, and every synth layered.
“What you told me about… this was primarily 2012, right?” Jeongguk was still holding my hand. Nodding, I reached for something to drink.
“Why are you asking?” I asked, sipping the water.
“Just to know where we are chronologically. It’s funny to think that you were also preparing for your debut while we were doing the same,” he stated, making me giggle.
“You’re right. But we beat you to it by nearly half a year. Our first album was released on the 22nd of January 2013.” I smiled at the memory. We just put the album out there without a second thought. We didn’t do much of promo either. We didn’t even release a single first. We went straight for the album.
“This was your birthday, right?” Jeongguk asked. I looked at him, surprised.
“How do you know that?”
“Google is free, Lou.” I giggled.
“You’re stealing my lines.” I smiled. Even though I’d been scared of this conversation at first, it felt natural by now.
“If it fits, it fits. Before you continue: how would you describe that time for you?” he asked. I looked down at our hands and started playing with his fingers.
“I didn’t discover music as a way to finally feel heard. I discovered myself through it. And that was thanks to Martin. He threw me a lifeline. He gave me a way to live again. Looking back, none of us could have guessed he would be the one to break me again…” I sighed. As much as I loved remembering our time together, it also hurt tremendously. Jeongguk quickly pulled me into his arms, stopping me from sinking further. I squealed in surprise and turned slightly, letting my shoulder rest against his chest.
“A warning would’ve been nice.” I pouted, causing him to giggle – which sounded absolutely delightful.
Warning: This story WILL touch very sensitive topics, like suicide, selfharm, self-hatred, etc. OC is deeply traumatized. Reader descretion is advised.
Summary: Louise Clark is a 21-year-old woman who tries to navigate her stressful live and university. During her master semesters, she gets the opportunity to work with BTS. This job changes her live once again, causing her to face her own insecurities and growing along the people closest to her.
TW: This chapter includes: depictions of blood and wounds, car crash, suicidal tendencies. Reader descretion is advised.
<<If you want to be put on a taglist, send me an ask. They're open. >>
Chapter Nineteen
Jaws – Sleep Token
“Will you tell me what happened, Lou?” Jeongguk said, keeping his eyes on mine, and waiting for an answer.
“Do you want the short or the long version?” I sniffled again, wanting to blow my nose and dry my tears.
“Bring it down to one sentence. We’ll go upstairs, and then you can tell me the long version,” he suggested. I chuckled dryly at the idea.
“I can’t keep running away from this with you, can I?”
“No, you can’t…” I sighed, closing my eyes and taking a shaky breath.
“I already mentioned Martin to you, right?” Jeongguk nodded. “I also mentioned that he was the one who suggested I start writing songs to cope, correct?” He nodded again. “Because of that, we founded Chords of Ash together. Martin committed suicide in April last year after receiving a terminal cancer diagnosis. I– I was the one who found him.” A sob caught in my throat as those memories flashed through my mind. Jeongguk looked at me in complete disbelief.
“Oh, Lou, I–” He hugged me tightly, and I cried into his chest. We stood like that until I slowly stopped crying.
“Can we have snacks while I tell you everything else?” My face was still buried in his chest, so I sounded as though I were talking into a firm pillow.
Jeongguk chuckled. “Of course. Do you want to go up first while I get us something, or do you want to pick something out with me?”
“The second option…” I muttered. Jeongguk slowly let go of me, looking me over to make sure I was fine on my own for the moment. We picked out a few snacks and something to drink before heading upstairs.
“Did you tell the others to leave?” I asked. I placed the drinks on my nightstand, avoiding eye contact for the moment. I was nervous. Not only because I was about to tell him everything, but also because I was about to relive it all.
“No, Yoongi-hyung did. As soon as he noticed what was happening, he dealt with it and made sure I had a chance to calm you down.” I sat down and looked out of the window.
“Hm, I see,” I muttered. I looked down at my hands and played with my rings. What should I start with? How far back did I need to go for him to fully understand what I was going through? I felt the mattress sink behind me, and an uncomfortable silence settled between us.
“What are you thinking about?” I turned around to look at him. Jeongguk leaned against the headboard, arms crossed.
“About where I should start.” I sat down in front of him.
“How about the car accident? You said you started writing songs after that,” Jeongguk suggested. I played with my rings and nodded.
“Yes, that’s actually a good starting point…”
~~~~~
I didn’t remember the accident itself all that clearly. What I did remember was my mother picking me up after school. I had dance practice shortly after, and the time frame between the two was always very tight. On top of that, my instructor was very strict. She always said that even if you were just a minute late, you wouldn’t get to participate, so my mother used to speed to the ballet studio – sometimes running red lights that had just turned red or going well over the speed limit.
On that particular day, it had rained heavily earlier, so the roads were slick, but my mother was a good driver. I felt entirely safe in the back of the car. I wore earbuds and listened to the music we would later dance to.
Suddenly, my mother hit the brakes. But the wet road betrayed us. We didn’t stop, and I think a lorry hit the side I was sitting on. My mother was sitting on the other side. She had a few cuts and bruises, but nothing major; unlike me. I was covered in glass. I tasted and smelled metal. I thought I could also smell smoke, but I wasn’t sure.
When I opened my eyes, I heard my mother faintly scream my name, but I couldn’t process it. I saw my leg twisted at an unnatural angle, with metal and glass sticking out of it, blood running down. I nearly puked at the sight, and all I could think was, Please, no. Not my leg. Don’t take dancing from me. Please don’t. Maybe I was praying. I wasn’t very religious, but I still believed somewhat, back then. Then, slowly, the pain crushed me, and I screamed before passing out.
Then I saw paramedics lift me out of the car and place me on a stretcher.
When I opened my eyes again, the harsh neon lights hurt. Something tugged at my leg. I looked down. They were cutting my jeans apart to examine my leg.
“… compound fracture … the tibia is shattered … maybe plates and screws? … long-term mobility uncertain…” I wanted to scream and cry – but I couldn’t. Was I high on pain meds? A hand squeezed mine. I looked. Martin. He must have rushed to the hospital as soon as he heard about the accident.
The next time I became conscious, I only heard beeping at first. It was otherwise completely quiet. Opening my eyes hurt, but I did it anyway. My whole family was sitting around me.
“Lou! You’re awake! How are you feeling?” Martin asked, grabbing my hand. It was wrapped in bandages. I just hummed. My throat was completely dry, so I couldn’t speak. How long had I been out?
“Wait, darling. Let her have something to drink first,” my mother said, pressing a button, and the bed moved so I could sit up without moving. Somehow, I didn’t feel any pain. She held out a glass with a straw, and I drank before resting my head against the pillow again.
“Everything’s packed in cushions…” That was all I could say before I fell back asleep.
My whole body hurt, and I screamed as I opened my eyes. I was alone, apart from two nurses who were changing the bandages.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Clark. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” one of the nurses said, quickly placing the blanket over me again, but I still saw how my leg looked. It was wrapped in a large cast, with screws sticking out of it. Did they have to fixate it from the outside as well, just to stabilise everything? This was when the realization hit. This wasn’t temporary. I would never be able to dance again.
“Remove the blanket again,” I demanded hoarsely, staring numbly at it. The nurse did so reluctantly. I just stared at my leg until the nurses left. I broke down as soon as the door closed. Just one thought crossed my mind: I would rather be dead than never dance again.
After two hours, Martin came into my room. The blanket was still off my leg. I hadn’t had the energy to pull it back over me. I had also passed out during those two hours. As soon as Martin saw the missing blanket, he set the bag he was holding down and pulled it back over me.
“I’m sorry, Lou.” That was all he said as he handed me the bag. He had brought me colouring books and notebooks.
“What is this?” Why had he brought me this? This was trash. What was I supposed to do with this?
“Just something to pass the time when no one’s here.” I hated the gift. But I coloured in every page anyway and filled the notebooks with words. Within weeks, I filled multiple notebooks with words that didn’t make any sense.
I started rehab two months later. Two weeks earlier, the surgical team had removed the external stabilisation and fixed the internal one. On the outside, I was completely healed. But on the inside, I was still broken. And I made sure everyone felt how dead I was inside.
“Miss Clark, you really need to try harder,” my therapist said. I lay on the floor, shaking. My muscles refused to obey me. Every movement hurt.
“Shut up. I don’t want to do this. I want to die.” He helped me back into my wheelchair.
“But first, you need to walk again. Otherwise, you can’t kill yourself.” Somehow, this gave me energy. I grabbed the crutches he held out to me and pulled myself up again. I tried to walk, but fell to the ground again. I was supposed to dance on stage, not limp on the floor, shaking and hating the fact that I was still alive.
That night, I wrote again. But this time, the words started to make sense. They had a theme. The previous notebooks were filled with disorganised words, scratches that sometimes tore through the paper. I even destroyed one completely. But on this night, the words I wrote had a theme. They dealt with the pain I had experienced that day. This notebook became the foundation for A Quiet Collapse and later Fractures. I remember how freeing it felt to finally have some structure in my thoughts. And I owed that to Martin. He was the one who gave me notebook after notebook. As soon as I filled one, I texted him. And an hour later, he came running with a new one.
A few days later, I couldn’t sleep. My leg hurt immensely and wouldn’t stop shaking. It felt like I had to endure the pain. Like I deserved it. So instead of calling one of the nurses, I grabbed a notebook again and wrote. The machine a room – or more? – away beeped steadily. Rain hit the window. It was warm under the blanket, but the room still felt cold. My leg throbbed. I hummed something under my breath. I wrote my first lyrics that night to the steady beat of the machines and the rain.
~~~~~
“A few weeks later, Martin told me he was in the hospital that night. He snuck in to comfort me but ended up pacing the corridors. He thought I was asleep because my room was so quiet.” I chuckled softly before taking a sip.
“Can I ask something?” Jeongguk looked very… troubled. I thought that was the best word for it.
“Your reason for learning to walk again was so you could kill yourself?” I bit my lip. The way he said it was quite blunt, but he wasn’t wrong.
“Like I said, I would rather have been dead than never dance again. But I can assure you, I’m not suicidal anymore. Knowing what it feels like to be left behind changed that.” I took one of his hands. “There are too many people I can’t put through that again.”
“Like?” He intertwined our fingers, tracing patterns with his thumb over the back of my hand.
“Mary, Aiden, Jess, Tess, Tyler, Mike, Marc, you, my parents. I would even add Martin to this list, even though he’s dead.” Jeongguk chuckled dryly.
“Why?”
“He gave me a new reason to live through his support, but that only became clear a year later, when we started making music. I could never abandon that. And since he plays such an important role in my life, I sometimes wonder whether he would be proud of me now.” I squeezed Jeongguk’s hand, and a tear rolled down my cheek. “The accident shattered me into pieces. Martin helped piece me back together by giving me the notebooks.”
“I’m sure he would be very proud of you.” Jeongguk leaned over, grabbed a tissue, and handed it to me. I smiled gratefully and dried my eyes.
“On another note – did you ever apologise to your physical therapist? You said you were quite rude.” I laughed before blowing my nose.
“I did. During rehab, I was also in group therapy to deal with the psychological trauma, and one boy pointed out how rude I was.” I smiled at that memory. Rehab wasn’t entirely bad. “I apologized the next time I saw that therapist. He thanked me for the apology but added that I was somewhat mild compared to other clients he’d had before. Given my history, he expected it.”
“Do you still have contact with some of the people you met in rehab?” Jeongguk started playing with one of the rings on my hand.
“I do. That person who pointed out how rude I was? He’s the older brother of one of my bandmates.” Jeongguk looked up from my hand in surprise.
“No way.”
“Yes way.” I giggled. “We were friends during rehab and talked about our families after Martin visited me once and they met. He then told me about his little sister, Kate, who is hearing-impaired but somehow manages to be a maniac on the drums. This story might be the reason I picked up the drums a little. I can’t play properly because of my leg, but I know enough for songwriting purposes.”
“Did you know then that Kate would join your band?”
Warning: This story WILL touch very sensitive topics, like suicide, selfharm, self-hatred, etc. OC is deeply traumatized. Reader descretion is advised.
Summary: Louise Clark is a 21-year-old woman who tries to navigate her stressful live and university. During her master semesters, she gets the opportunity to work with BTS. This job changes her live once again, causing her to face her own insecurities and growing along the people closest to her.
TW: This chapter includes: panic attack, hinting at suicide, depictions of blood and wounds. Reader descretion is advised.
<<If you want to be put on a taglist, send me an ask. They're open. >>
Chapter Eighteen
Breaking The Habit – Linkin’ Park
We continued our karaoke fun for more than two hours, until tiredness washed over me. The day had been exhausting, after all, with my flare-up around noon. I was surprised by how long I managed to enjoy the company of the seven men.
I felt completely at ease. Something I hadn’t felt in quite a while.
I smiled softly as I remembered the last time I had felt that way. Mary, Aiden, Martin, and I sat on our shared couch, watching a movie after our first tour was finally over. I closed my eyes with a smile, remembering exactly how everything had been.
With a sigh, I opened my eyes again. Sadly, those times didn’t last much longer, and the pain in my chest felt suffocating at the memory. I drew in a deep breath and yawned.
“I think I’ll be going to sleep now,” I said, as I stood up.
“Alright, see you tomorrow,” Yoongi said, the others quickly joining in with their goodnight wishes.
“If you need something, text me, yeah?” Jeongguk looked at me softly, and I nodded.
“Of course,” I said. As I went up the stairs, I heard their laughter echo through the house, but the drowsiness of sleep was already tugging at me, lulling me in to finally rest after an exciting day.
~~~~~
I sat down at the keyboard in our garage. We had only recently turned it into our rehearsal space, after a lot of convincing of our parents. I placed the booklet of melody ideas and lyrics on the music stand and played quietly. Dad should be home by now, and I didn’t want him to get angry if I played too loudly. But everything I played, every lyric I sang, didn’t seem to fit, so I ended up glaring at my notes. It had sounded so good in my head, though!
“You look like you want to set the booklet ablaze with your eyes.” I looked up and saw Martin standing in the doorway to the house. The light from the setting sun caught in his hair, revealing golden undertones in the otherwise brown strands and making him look almost eternal. I rolled my eyes.
“Shut up. I just can’t come up with something that feels right. None of it feels fitting, and it sounded way better in my head.” I pouted and crossed my arms.
“Maybe you’re choosing the wrong instrument for it. Have you thought about that? Or maybe the music is angry at you for glaring at your notebook. If you were nicer, I’m sure it’d behave.” Martin raised an eyebrow as he closed the door behind him and plugged his guitar into an amp.
“Haha, very funny, arsehole,” I mumbled. Martin laughed and pulled a stool over next to me.
“Show me what you’re working on. Is it for the album?” Martin tuned his guitar while he listened to me talk about the lyrics and what I imagined the music to sound like.
“Hm, I see…” he mumbled, before playing some of the chords I had written out.
“You’re right. It only looks good on paper. How about this, then?” He placed his phone in front of us, hit record, and played something that perfectly fit the lyrics. “Add some piano notes now so we can deepen the feeling. Imagine the piano notes as the melody for the lyrics.” I nodded and did as he told me, humming along to get a feel for the rhythm. Together, we played the part over and over until it finally clicked, and it was finished.
“I told you – the music would behave if you stopped glaring at your notebook,” he teased and ruffled my hair. I tried to dodge him, but he was faster, ruining the hairstyle I’d been wearing. I showed him my middle finger in return.
“I hate you for making it sound so easy.” Nevertheless, I quickly wrote down what we had created.
“Well, creating music with you is easy, Lou. We share one soul when it comes to that,” Martin said softly, standing up. “Bet you’ll finish the song before I finish helping Mum with dinner.”
“Fuck yeah. I bet I do. Loser does the dishes!” Martin burst out laughing and left the garage. Watching him leave made me realise that those moments would never come back.
~~~~~
When I woke up, I could still feel Martin around me – his warmth, his voice – as if he were real and not just a dream. But slowly, the dream dissolved, and his warmth gave way to loneliness. He was gone. I swallowed dryly as I turned and saw Jeongguk sleeping peacefully next to me.
When had he come here? My mind slowly processed what I’d dreamt about, and without realising it, I started crying silently.
Why did he have to leave me again? My cries became more desperate with each passing second. So, I hid my face in my pillow, trying to silence the sounds, but it didn’t help. The pillow only soaked up my tears. I clutched it, trembling. I wanted this to stop.
“Lou? What happened? Why are you crying?” Jeongguk softly placed a hand on my shoulder, trying to get my attention. His hand felt warm against my skin.
“I– I-I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to –” Sobs caught in my throat, stopping me from properly telling him not to worry and go back to sleep.
“Lou, it’s fine. I’m here. Did you have a bad dream?” His hand caressed my shoulder and brushed a few strands of hair away so he could see me better.
“It’s nothing.” I managed to utter at least that, but Jeongguk only sighed in frustration.
“It’s not nothing,” he mumbled. It was quiet for a few seconds before he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to his chest with a sigh. “You know that you can tell me anything, right? I get that it’s late and you want to go back to sleep, so it’s fine, but don’t keep running away from your feelings, Lou.” I sniffled, wrapped my arms around him as well, and hid my face in his chest.
Why is he so kind and understanding? Jeongguk sighed again and kissed the top of my head. His scent, warmth and overall presence calmed me down quickly, and I fell back into a restless sleep before I could say anything to him. The last thing I remembered was his hand in my hair, gradually threading through the strands – I fell asleep to that rhythm again.
When I woke up the next morning, I was alone. I sat up, slightly confused, and rubbed my eyes. Weird, he’d slept longer than I had the past few days. But my eyes seemed puffy, so what happened last night had actually happened. It wasn’t a dream within a dream.
I stood up and made my way downstairs to get a coffee and something to eat. I wanted to go for a run to clear my head a little before starting on the exercises for tomorrow’s evaluation.
“Good morning. How are you feeling?” Jin greeted me as I came into the kitchen. Why do I always meet him here?
“Morning. I’m fine, thank you.” I grabbed a cup, placed it under the coffee machine, and pressed start. “Did you sleep well?” I looked at Jin, who looked me over.
“Did you cry last night? Your eyes are all puffy,” Jin said, instead of answering me.
“I had a nightmare. Don’t worry.” I sighed, turned, and grabbed my coffee, adding some milk and sugar.
“Oh damn, I’m sorry.” I looked at him with a grateful smile. Luckily, he didn’t ask what I’d dreamt about. I sipped my coffee as I started making my breakfast.
“Before I forget – we want to cook together later. Do you want to join us?” Jin asked.
“Sure, why not? I can do the sheets for tomorrow afterwards,” I replied, cutting the banana thinly, adding it to the porridge, and sitting down.
“Good. Then I’ll think about what we can cook together and go grocery shopping with Namjoon later.” Jin looked excited, which made me smile. He grabbed a notepad lying nearby and started writing down some ideas. I peacefully finished my porridge and coffee and put everything away afterwards.
“If someone asks, I’m going for a run. I’ll be back in – hm. Maybe two hours. I don’t fully know yet. I’ll text you if it takes longer,” I said, stopping in the doorway and looking at Jin.
“Ah, alright. If something happens, call one of us. Have fun,” Jin replied. I nodded, got ready quickly, and stepped out. Music blasted through my headphones as I ran through the city and back home.
After two hours on the dot, I arrived back at the house – nicely exhausted. Using the hem of my shirt, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and stepped inside. I slipped out of my shoes and stretched lightly before going upstairs to take a relaxing shower. The run was really freeing, and I felt much calmer than before. But somehow, there was still a nervousness lingering deep within me, and I couldn't explain why it was there. It couldn’t just be because of the dream I had this night. I’d been in a situation like this before, and the nervousness hadn’t been there then. With a sigh, I looked at myself in the mirror. Why does this bubble up while I’m so far away from it?
“Lou? We’ll start soon. Are you coming?” Jeongguk knocked on the bathroom door, making me jump in surprise.
“I’ll be down in a second,” I said, clutching my shirt over my chest in an attempt to calm my racing heart.
“Alright.” I heard Jeongguk’s footsteps going down the stairs and sighed again. After my heart rate had calmed down a little, I went downstairs as well.
“There you are. I was starting to worry. We can start, then,” Jin said with a wide smile.
“What are we cooking?” I asked, smiling back softly.
“Bibimbap. Have you made that before?” Jin handed me a bowl filled with ingredients. I nodded.
“With Nicole and her family,” I said.
“Good. If you need help with anything, just tell one of us.” I nodded again, placing the bowl down and starting to chop everything. The kitchen felt extremely lively, and I slowly felt the nervousness drain out of my body. It was replaced by the same feeling I’d had during karaoke the night before; this feeling of being utterly at ease. Even though I’d been somewhat closed off before, I quickly opened up again and started joking with the others while preparing the food.
“Ah shit, of course this happens now. Can someone hand me a paper towel? I cut myself.” I looked over at Jin and froze. There was suddenly so much blood on the counter as well. I was sure he would be fine. But why did it feel like I couldn’t breathe? I clutched my shirt. There was so much red. Why was there so much red?
Something metallic clinked. Was it a knife? Was it the knife in his hands?
“No, no, no. Not again.” Was there something on the floor as well? It had to be. Martin lost so much of it. It had to.
I flinched. Someone touched me. Was it a medic? How did they know my name? I hadn’t told them. Who did?
“This can’t be happening.” I wanted to scream. Why couldn’t I? I saw the red again. So much of it. Why? Why did he do that? This couldn’t be real again. But why was it so quiet, then? It had to be. Our house was the same. It had to. Something blocked my view. Why? I needed to process it.
“Lou?” Martin? No, this couldn’t be. He didn’t call me that anymore. Never again. Why did it hurt so much?
“Look at me.” Who was talking to me? The medics didn’t do that. Something – or someone? – shook me. This was… desperate? Why? I flinched again. Don’t touch me. Why?
“Clean this up.” No! Don’t! Why would you carry him away from me? I needed to hold him again. What would Aiden think? Something pressed against me. There was warmth.
“Lou, please.” Was this… Jeongguk? Why was he in our house? This didn’t make sense. Why couldn’t I see him anymore? There had been so much noise earlier, but now… nothing. Just a heartbeat directly against my ear. Someone was crying. Was it Mary? No, Mary didn’t cry around me. Aiden wasn’t there. We had made sure. Who was crying? Was it me? No, I was just shaking. I thought. Why was my head suddenly wet?
“Lou, I beg you. Answer me.” This really was Jeongguk. His shirt was wet. Maybe I had cried just now. He was also blocking my view. Why again? Right, Jin had cut himself while cooking. I was in Seoul – no, Busan. We’d gone on that English retreat. I wasn’t in our house in London, witnessing the most traumatic situation of my life. The accident was nothing compared to this.
Jeongguk pressed me harder against him, desperately. I wrapped my arms tightly around him, burying my face completely in his chest and sobbing uncontrollably.
Goodness, this was embarrassing. A panic attack from seeing a simple cut while cooking…
Jeongguk relaxed when he noticed I was responding to him. His hand moved into my hair, gently trying to pull me away from him, but I hugged him tighter. I didn’t think I could look him in the eyes after this.
“You have to tell me what happened, Lou,” he mumbled, his voice trembling. I shook my head, reluctant. His hands cupped my face, and he gently forced me to look at him. His eyes were red. So, he was the one I had heard crying earlier. Something broke inside me as I saw him like this. I was the reason for his state…
“I can’t just watch you suffer alone. I just can’t.” He held my gaze firmly, turning my head back towards him when I tried to look away.
“I – I don’t know if I can relive that,” I mumbled, sniffling as I grabbed at his shirt.
“Then I’ll be there and relive it with you.” And for the first time in one and a half years, I felt like I wasn’t carrying this load alone.
Warning: This story WILL touch very sensitive topics, like suicide, selfharm, self-hatred, etc. OC is deeply traumatized. Reader descretion is advised.
Summary: Louise Clark is a 21-year-old woman who tries to navigate her stressful live and university. During her master semesters, she gets the opportunity to work with BTS. This job changes her live once again, causing her to face her own insecurities and growing along the people closest to her.
<<If you want to be put on a taglist, send me an ask. They're open. >>
Chapter Seventeen
Doomed – Bring Me The Horizon
Jeongguk and I quickly helped Jin clean up, then finished some food and ended up chatting on the couch. The others joined after a while when they noticed we had stopped watching FNAF.
“Should we continue watching this in the next few weeks?” Jeongguk asked in between conversations.
“I can just watch this myself. Don’t worry,” I said.
“But this feels like we started a series together and you will continue watching it without me? That’s mean…” Jeongguk said, pouting.
“Oh no, that’s not what I meant. Of course, we can continue watching it together then,” I said with a slight panic in my voice. Oh damn, did I just offend him? Just then, Jeongguk chuckled lightly.
“Wait, you were playing me!” I said and shoved his shoulder, crossing my arms afterwards.
“But seriously, do you want to continue watching it with me? I’m not that familiar with the FNAF lore, and I've never played the games myself. And you’re right. The lore is ... fascinating,” he said. I looked him over. Is he serious now, or is he playing me again?
“You’re not playing with me again, right?” I said.
“No, I’d love to watch it with you and keep you company if you get scared,” he said teasingly.
“You’ll probably be more scared than I since I already know the games and you don’t. But yeah, we can watch it together,” I said. Jeongguk was about to say something, but Yoongi interrupted us.
“Louise, do you also want a drink and do some karaoke later?” Yoongi asked.
“Oh, I’d love to, but I can’t drink today. I took some heavy pain meds earlier, remember?” I said.
“Ah, yes. Right. So something non-alcoholic for you, then. But you’re still up for karaoke, yeah?” he said.
“As long as I can pick English songs, I’m in,” I said.
“Why not Korean songs?” Jeongguk chimed in.
“I’m confident speaking Korean, but not singing it yet. I still can’t read it quickly enough,” I said. Jeongguk and Yoongi both nodded.
“I’ll make sure there are English options then,” Yoongi said.
“By the way, Louise, can you cook soon? I’m starving,” Jimin said with a small whine.
“Jin cooked earlier. Didn’t you grab something?” I asked.
“He only made enough for the three of you,” he said. I sighed and stood up.
“Then I’ll start cooking,” I said, grabbing my phone. “Do we have a Bluetooth speaker with us somewhere?”
“Wait, I’ll get mine for you,” Jeongguk said, hurrying out of the living room. While he fetched it, I slipped into the kitchen to wash my hands and start on the pasta.
“Here you go,” Jeongguk said as he handed me the speaker.
“Thanks,” I said, switching it on and pairing it with my phone so I could play some music while I cooked.
“Can I stay and watch you?” he asked. I just nodded as I added songs to the queue. I hummed along to the music while I cooked, and Jeongguk simply sat there, watching me.
“Do you actually enjoy watching me cook, or are you just checking I’m all right?” I asked teasingly.
“Hm, a bit of both. Besides, the kitchen’s much calmer than the living room right now,” he said. I chuckled as a screech came from the living room at that exact moment. Then, I took a noodle from the boiling water to check if it was cooked enough.
“Uhhhh, can I have a taste?” Jeongguk asked. I nodded and fished out another noodle. He stood up quickly, came around the kitchen island, lifted my arm, the one holding the fork, and ate the noodle straight from it. I looked at him, wide-eyed. Why did he do that like that when he could’ve just taken the fork?
“I’d say the noodles are done,” Jeongguk said, meeting my eyes again.
“Yeah… I think so, too,” I mumbled, lowering my hand, dropping the fork into the sink, and quickly draining the pot. I left a little water in the pot, then tipped the noodles, sauce, and bacon pieces into one pan and mixed them.
“Could you get them? It’s ready,” I said while taking out some plates, forks and spoons.
“On my way,” Jeongguk said, leaving the room just to come back with the others a few seconds later.
“Oh, that was quick,” I said, turning off the speaker. I watched them take their portions and noticed that Jeongguk – once again – had prepared mine for me.
“You know, you don’t always have to do that, right?” I said as I grabbed my plate from him.
“I know,” Jeongguk said without explaining anything further, and we followed the others back to the living room.
“Louise, if there are any of your songs on here, would you sing one?” Yoongi asked just as I sat down, and suddenly, everyone’s attention was uncomfortably on me. I glanced around at them all and sighed.
“No, I don’t think I want to,” I said and started to eat. “Would you do one of your songs?”
“Hm… yeah, I get that. But you’d do a metal song, right?” Yoongi said.
“Wait, wait, wait. Hold on a second. Did I miss something?” Jin cut in. I frowned.
“But Yoongi said Jeongguk told you everything yesterday,” I said, confused.
“Oh, I was already asleep when you two came back. So, you make music?” he asked. “And this is very good, by the way.”
“Thanks. I’m the lead singer of a metalcore band called Chords of Ash. We’re on hiatus at the moment so I can finish university properly, and taking this job is part of that,” I explained.
“Oh, really? How many albums have you released already? It’s not my kind of music, but I’m nosy.”
“We’ve released three so far. The last one came out in May 2016,” I said, keeping it brief. I didn’t want to go into detail. I was afraid the conversation would drift towards the one topic I’d been avoiding.
“Oh, does that mean you went on tour last year?” Jin went on.
“No, we didn’t, but we wanted to. The tour was cancelled. The first and only tour was 2015,” I mumbled, staring down at my food. Suddenly, any appetite I had had vanished.
“Why was the tour cancelled? Did something–”
“Hyung, please stop asking her that. Can’t you see she’s uncomfortable?” Jeongguk cut in suddenly. I glanced at Jeongguk, who gave me a soft smile before I looked back at Jin.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I got carried away,” Jin said honestly.
“It’s fine,” I said, brushing the topic aside. I forced myself to keep eating, remembering I’d been hungry only moments earlier. Why does this topic keep coming back?
“Alright, what will you sing then, Louise?” Yoongi asked again, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“Oh, right. I’m not sure yet. I was thinking of something by Bring Me the Horizon. Their album from last year has good karaoke potential,” I answered. Yoongi nodded and set his plate on the coffee table.
“Louise, this was amazing. Who taught you to cook like that?” Jimin said as he stacked his plate with Yoongi’s.
“Oh, the cooking itself I learnt from my mum and Nicole’s mum. This recipe’s self-taught, though. But making Carbonara is really easy. You just need three ingredients for the sauce,” I explained. “Parmesan, egg yolk, and pepper. Then you cook the pasta, roast the bacon, and bring everything together.”
“That sounds really easy… maybe even I could make that,” Namjoon said.
“Please don’t. My poor kitchen,” Jin muttered. I added my plate to the stack, trying not to giggle.
“Okay, is everyone finished? Then, Jeongguk-ah, clean the kitchen,” Jin said once all the plates were stacked.
“Huh? But I helped,” Jeongguk protested.
“You didn’t help. You just watched and made sure my leg didn’t give out,” I replied. “Come on, listen to your elder.”
“Exactly. Since I’m your elder, you should do as I say,” Jin said, puffing out his chest in exaggerated pride.
“For someone who doesn’t care about respecting elders, you sure use it to your advantage,” Jeongguk muttered as he stood up.
“Backstabber,” he whispered into my ear, making me giggle.
“I just want to see you suffer a little. There’s a difference,” I teased with a wide smile. Jeongguk rolled his eyes theatrically but couldn’t quite hide his smile as he headed to the kitchen to tidy up.
“Do we have a karaoke station, or do we need a laptop?” Yoongi asked as he wrapped his arms around Jimin, who had just settled on his lap. Silence lingered for a few seconds before I sighed.
“I’ve got KaraFun on my laptop. I’ll grab it quickly.” I stood and started searching for my laptop. “Where did I…?” After a few minutes, I found it upstairs in its bag in my bedroom. I grabbed it quickly and hurried back downstairs.
“Do you also have a microphone for it?” Yoongi asked as I set everything up.
“No, I didn’t bring my mic. If you’d asked me in Seoul, I could’ve gone home and got mine, but… well, we’re not in Seoul,” I answered with a chuckle. “KaraFun doesn’t give you a score anyway, so you don’t really need one. If we don’t turn the music up too loud, we can just use a hairbrush, or anything with a similar shape, instead.”
“Why do you have a mic in your flat?” Taehyung asked. I slowly turned to stare at him, my brows knitting together.
“To record and chat with friends…? Was this a serious question?” I was visibly confused. We’d literally just talked about me being the singer of a band a few minutes ago.
“Hm… yeah, that does make sense. Are you working on a new album at the moment?” he asked again. I simply shook my head.
“I mainly brought it to chat with friends when we play online games.” I shrugged. Once I’d finished setting up the karaoke, I stood. “Who wants to go first?”
“Before we start… You said, ‘to record’ first… did you finish a song recently?” Yoongi looked at me seriously.
“Ah, it’s not fully finished yet. I still need to tweak a few things, and my mates need to sprinkle in their magic before I’d call it done,” I said.
“Let’s hear it anyway,” Yoongi insisted.
“Hear what?” Jeongguk asked as he came back in. I sighed. I love talking about my music, but they are pestering me with questions, and it is starting to get annoying…
“Louise wrote a song recently, and I want to hear what she’s recorded so far,” Yoongi told him, eyes shining. Jeongguk, however, only looked slightly confused.
“Didn’t you tell me yesterday that you’ve got writer’s block?”
“I do. That’s the only song I’ve written in a year and a half. I started a second one during that creative outburst, but as soon as I finished the first, my head was empty again.” I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.
“Can we still hear it, though?” Yoongi asked. I sighed again, but started searching for the demo on my laptop anyway. Hopefully, they’ll stop now…
Once I found it, I double-clicked; the words from my meltdown after Jess told me Kain had cheated again filled the room. Moments later, the beat kicked in, and my voice echoed through the room. My eyes stayed fixed on the screen, searching for any irregularities in the sound programme as I mouthed the lyrics softly.
When the song finished, silence settled for a few seconds; the last notes and words still echoing in everyone’s minds.
“You wrote that? Louise, that –” Yoongi began, but I cut him off by lifting a hand.
“I’m not talking about my writer’s block. I’m not talking about what caused it, and I’m not talking about how I write songs. Not now, at least,” I said firmly, meeting his gaze head-on. He held my gaze without flinching. The eye contact lingered for several seconds; it felt as though he was searching for something in my eyes, but eventually he let out a sigh and looked away.
“Alright, I’ll drop it for now. Just so you know, from someone who also writes from emotions, it’s amazing. So, who’s going first?” Yoongi looked at the others. Meanwhile, I glanced at Jeongguk, who was staring at me so intensely it felt like he was burning holes through me. A prickling sense told me he was displeased about something, though I couldn’t begin to work out what.
When our eyes met, I tilted my head in silent question, but he dismissed it with a quick wave. I frowned slightly, then shrugged it off and returned my attention to the laptop. I added all the songs they’d bombarded me with into the queue, typing their names beside each one so they’d know when their turn came up.
“OH! Wait, we do have a mic! I brought one!” Namjoon cried, leaping to his feet and dashing upstairs, nearly tripping over on the way. I rolled my eyes, smiling broadly as I fished an adaptor out of my laptop bag. I plugged it into my laptop and added the song I wanted to sing to the end of the queue.
“Doomed? Is that Bring Me The Horizon?” Jeongguk asked, leaning over my shoulder and making me jump slightly. I turned to look at him.
“How did you guess that?” I asked.
“You mentioned wanting to sing one of their songs earlier. Which reminds me – you bring them up a lot. Do they have a special place in your heart?” Jeongguk rested his arms on the back of the armchair. I nodded quickly.
“Their lyrics are incredible, and Oli Sykes, the frontman, has absolutely mastered switching between singing and screaming. I can handle “Doomed” pretty well now, but I don’t think I could manage those kinds of switches in one of my own songs. If I want to alternate between styles, the singing has to outweigh the screaming; otherwise, I’d never manage it live for weeks on end,” I explained, excitement spilling into my voice. Jeongguk listened with a soft smile.
“Yeah, I noticed that on your songs.”
“You've already listened to some of them?” I raised a brow.
“I’ve already listened to the entire first album… and ordered the vinyl,” Jeongguk admitted with a shy smile. “I completely understand now why the owner wanted you to sign that record so badly yesterday.”
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“There you go. Do you think the pin will fit into the laptop?” Namjoon asked, handing me the mic cable. I took the end and plugged it into the adaptor.
“That’s why I always carry a multi-use adaptor with me.” I mirrored the screen onto the TV so everyone could see the lyrics and handed the microphone to Hoseok, since he was up first.
From there, chaos and laughter erupted. The guys sang to their hearts’ content, and we burst into wholehearted laughter whenever someone messed up – usually whenever someone from the rap line attempted a ballad, or whenever Taehyung tried to rap. They added so many songs to the queue that, at some point, I completely forgot I’d put one in as well.
When ‘Doomed by Louise’ flashed up on the screen, I blinked in surprise before remembering I’d added it myself, and held my hand out for the mic.
“Oh, that’s Bring Me The Horizon, right?” Yoongi asked, glancing from the screen to me. I nodded.
“I apologise in advance. The first few seconds are basically just moaning,” I said, suddenly shy. “But it makes sense, considering what the song’s about. I promise.”
“Young lady, it had better make sense and you’d better not be subjecting us to audio porn!” Jin declared, gesturing dramatically and making me giggle.
The song began a few seconds later. Ignoring the moans, I launched into the opening verses cleanly, then tore into the chorus with the intensity it deserved. I was so focused on every word, every note, every scream, that I didn’t notice the others staring at me with wide eyes and open mouths. They all wore the same stunned expression, clearly unable to believe I’d managed to recreate the song with that level of intensity. A satisfied sigh escaped me as I hit the final note, and I closed my eyes. Oh god, how much I miss being on stage…
“Still not my kind of music… but wow! Louise, how can you be so tiny yet so loud?” Jin finally said after a few seconds of stunned silence.
“Ah, Hyung! Don’t mention her height, or you’ll be speaking English for the next few days.” Namjoon laughed as I handed him the mic.
“Oh, that’s actually fine. You’ve no idea how often that question came up in interviews after the first album dropped.” I rolled my eyes with a smile. The journalists had been relentless, and I’d had no idea how to tell them they were crossing a line.
“And what did you tell them?” Jin asked. “Oh… erm… I think I said something like, ‘with the right amount of anger, size doesn’t matter,’ or something along those lines. Management made sure interviewers stopped asking that sort of question afterwards.” I shrugged, though deep down, I longed more than anything to return to that life.
Warning: This story WILL touch very sensitive topics, like suicide, selfharm, self-hatred, etc. OC is deeply traumatized. Reader descretion is advised.
Summary: Louise Clark is a 21-year-old woman who tries to navigate her stressful live and university. During her master semesters, she gets the opportunity to work with BTS. This job changes her live once again, causing her to face her own insecurities and growing along the people closest to her.
<<If you want to be put on a taglist, send me an ask. They're open. >>
Info: With this chapter, the story progressed as far as it is on AO3. I will switch from an upload schedule of twice a week to once a week (Fr. 6 p.m.). Hope you continue to love the story and continue to engage with it ♡
Chapter Sixteen
I Got No Time – The Living Tombstone
The lesson went smoothly, though halfway through I began shaking from the pain. Five minutes after the lesson ended, rain began to pour outside. The boys kept asking if I was fine, but I brushed it off. The pain might have been the worst I’d felt in a while, but it was manageable – or so I thought. Maybe I reacted so strongly this time because it had been unusually dry the past few weeks? When I tried to stand, my left leg trembled so violently that I sank back into the chair.
“Fuck…” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. Lightning flashed somewhere outside, lighting up the living room for a few seconds before thunder rolled in. The sound startled me so much that my whole body tensed, and I hissed in pain. Shit, this is the worst it’s been in over a year. The last time was before the plates and screws were taken out.
“Lou? Do you need anything?” Jeongguk asked. I sighed in defeat. I probably wouldn’t be able to get what I needed on my own.
“In my nightstand, there’s a red pouch with my pain medication inside. There should also be a hot-water bottle. Could you grab them for me?”
“You got it. Anything else?” he said.
“I need to elevate my leg a little. Can you help me onto the couch?” He nodded, stood, and held out his hand. I tried to stand, but the moment I put weight on my left leg, it buckled beneath me and gave in. Luckily, Jeongguk caught me before I hit my head on the coffee table. I hate needing this much help – but I really do need it right now.
“Oh yeah, you’re absolutely fine,” he muttered, scooping me up and setting me on the sofa. A startled sound escaped me as I clutched his arms.
“I’ll hurry,” Jeongguk said, quickly leaving the room. Meanwhile, Namjoon closed the blinds, and Jimin dimmed the lights to a soft, comfortable glow. A few seconds later, Yoongi tossed a blanket over me. I smiled faintly as I pulled it around myself.
“Wasn’t I meant to cook today?” I muttered.
“I’ll take over. Maybe you can still do dinner,” Jin said.
“But I wanted to bet with you and Hobi so you wouldn’t have to cook for the rest of the week, or so I could tease you for failing,” I muttered, curling deeper into the blanket. With the lightning gone, I already felt the pain ease a little, even if it was only in my head. Whenever a new wave of pain hit, I gripped the edge of the blanket to keep from making a sound. It was a bit embarrassing.
“What are we betting on?” Hobi asked, coming in and setting a glass of water on the table. “Tae’s gone out in the car to get some comfort food. Text him what you want.”
“Thank you so much. I really appreciate it,” I murmured, reaching for my phone, which still lay on the armchair beside the sofa. A moment later, a red pouch dropped into my lap as Jeongguk handed me my phone. I muttered a quick thank you, texted Taehyung the sweets I wanted, and then rummaged through the bag. Ibuprofen for the pain, Pregabalin for the nerve damage… hopefully the hot-water bottle’s ready soon… I pressed the two pills from their packet and swallowed them with some water. Then my leg began to shake again, and I glared at it in frustration.
“Want to watch something while we wait for the painkillers to kick in?” Jeongguk suggested, trying to distract me from my leg. I nodded, hands trembling as I pulled the booklet from the bag. Oh, come on! Really? Now I’m shaking all over, too? I sighed and slipped the booklet back into the pouch. I can always write everything down once this flare-up’s over…
“What do you want to watch?” Jeongguk asked, concern flickering across his face as he glanced at my hands. I glanced at Hobi and Jin and smirked, causing them to exchange a look of mild panic.
“Oh boy…” they said in unison.
“Have you two ever heard of a game called ‘Five Nights at Freddy’s’?” I asked.
“Lou, are you trying to torture them?” Jeongguk asked, half shocked, half laughing.
“If either of you manages to sit through the entire Markiplier Let’s Play, I’ll cook for the rest of our stay,” I said, smirking. Hobi and Jin looked at each other, nodded and held out their hands to shake mine. I leaned forward, partly over Jeongguk’s lap, and shook both their hands. I giggled, only to wince in pain a moment later. Hopefully, the hot-water bottle’s ready soon…
“There’s a new game coming out soon, and I need to refresh myself on the lore. The last one came out last year,” I said, excitement creeping into my voice. Just then, Namjoon came in with the hot-water bottle and handed it to me. I set it on my leg and exhaled as the warmth eased the spasms in my muscles, though the pain still lingered.
“Thanks, Nammie,” I murmured. I leaned back into the sofa and noticed that Jeongguk’s arm was resting behind me on the backrest again. I smiled softly, giving him a grateful look before turning back to the screen. And even though I was genuinely enjoying myself – watching my favourite horror franchise and Hobi and Jin getting repeatedly scared – my body wouldn’t let me forget the pain. At least once every episode, I found myself shaking from it. At some point, I began leaning against Jeongguk whenever a new wave hit, and he drew me closer with one arm.
An hour later, I took another dose of painkillers. I hadn’t realised how much time had passed until Namjoon reminded me. Yoongi, Jimin and Tae left the room after Tae handed me the snacks I’d asked for. With all the shaking, the snacks stayed on the coffee table for a while.
After another hour, the intervals between the tremors lengthened, and Namjoon refilled my hot-water bottle, reminding me that I might want to take another dose of medication. They’d started to work, but the pain lingered, so I took a bit more.
And after another two hours, the pain finally subsided, and I slumped against Jeongguk, exhausted, his head resting against mine. At last, the flare-up was over, and I glanced towards Hobi and Jin. We were about four hours into the FNAF marathon, and they looked visibly shaken; only halfway through the third game – the worst hadn’t even happened yet – but it already looked like they’d give in any minute now.
“Don’t you think you should give them a break? We could eat something, then carry on after,” Jeongguk whispered in my ear. Chills immediately crept up my back, and I suppressed a shiver.
“But I want to see how much longer they last… it already feels like they’ll bolt any second,” I mumbled back. “We can take a break once we’ve finished this game’s Let’s Play.” I reached for my red pouch and pulled out the booklet again. I opened it and began jotting down the key points from this flare-up.
“Why do you need to write that down?” Jeongguk asked, watching me.
“It’s for my doctor. This was one of the worst flare-ups I’ve had in over a year. I’ll email it to him once we’re back in Seoul. Maybe he can prescribe something stronger, so it doesn’t get this bad again,” I answered, calmly continuing to write. “I’m just glad we didn’t have to go to the hospital for morphine.”
“It can get this bad?” he murmured. I nodded, closing the booklet and slipping it back into the pouch.
“I haven’t needed it once since the plates and screws were taken out. The earlier flare-ups were mostly caused by inflammation. So, I’m glad that I did the surgery last year,” I said, turning my attention back to the TV. Jeongguk drew me a little closer against his side, and I let out a quiet huff of laughter.
Surprisingly, Jin and Hobi actually made it through the third game.
“Alright, I think we can take a break,” I said, pausing the next video. Both of them let out sighs of relief. I chuckled and began gently stretching my lower leg. Now that the flare-up had passed, I needed to work the remaining cramps out.
“Why do you like this game so much? It’s pure horror!” Jin exclaimed.
“Are you sure you didn’t fake that flare-up just to watch us suffer?” Hobi teased, making me chuckle.
“Oh, I was terrified when I first watched it. And even more so when I started playing it. But for me, it’s not really about the horror. It’s the lore behind it. But I won’t go into that until we’ve finished the fourth game. It ties the earlier ones together nicely but still leaves a few loose ends,” I said.
“I’ll cook something to calm my nerves,” Jin muttered, getting up and heading out with Hobi. I chuckled, watching them go. Jeongguk and I were alone now. Namjoon had left earlier when he realised I no longer needed a timer for my meds. Horror games clearly weren’t his thing.
“I’ll go and take a hot shower then,” I said, setting the blanket aside.
“Are you sure your leg won’t give out again?” Jeongguk asked, his voice laced with concern.
“Yes, I’m very sure. The pain’s gone now. The shower’s mostly to relax my body and ease the last few cramps. I’ll be fine,” I said, standing up with ease. I even balanced lightly on my left leg to prove I was fine again. He sighed, resigned.
“Could you leave the door unlocked, then? What if your leg gives out again and we can’t get to you fast enough?” he asked.
“But I’ll be naked if I fall in the shower,” I teased. Jeongguk looked away, slightly embarrassed.
“Could you still leave it unlocked? It’d put my mind at ease,” he said, meeting my eyes again. I smiled softly at him.
“I suppose I could do that,” I said with a small smile. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“For caring.” I gave him another smile before leaving the room for a hot shower. My body still felt tense, even though the pain had finally faded. It was far more exhausting than I remembered.
When I returned to the kitchen after my shower, Jin was nearly finished cooking. I sat down at the counter and began weaving my still-damp hair into two French braids.
“I still can’t believe you sat through four hours of a horror game,” I said. Jin let out a dramatic sigh.
“The story and gameplay are actually quite intriguing. I’m curious how the next one will build on it,” Jin admitted, taking out the bowls.
“Hmm, I wonder if the fourth one will be where you finally cave,” I teased, chuckling.
“Hobi’s already said he’s done with it, so it’s just the two of us now,” he said. “The bet was just that I had to finish the whole Let’s Play, right?” I nodded.
“If you actually manage that, I’ll cook for the rest of the stay,” I repeated.
“I’m not sure you can even cook,” Jeongguk teased as he walked into the kitchen.
“I moved out over three years ago. Of course I can cook,” I said. “I’ll prove it later. I’m feeling well enough now, and I’m really craving some carbonara.”
“Just don’t overdo it,” he said, taking two bowls from Jin, filling them, and handing one to me. I sighed, rolling my eyes but smiling all the same.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the chopsticks from him as well. “Jinnie, do we have everything for a carbonara?”
“I think so. We bought some bacon cubes and cooking cream. Do you need anything else?” Jin asked. I blinked at him slowly. Does he seriously not know how to make proper Italian carbonara? That has to be a joke… right?
“I’m just messing with you. We got enough Parmesan and eggs. Couldn’t find the proper bacon, though, so I hope bacon strips are fine,” Jin said, and I sighed in relief.
“You scared me for a second there…” I mumbled, standing to head back to the living room. Jin, Jeongguk, and I settled back on the sofa to continue our FNAF marathon.
“Are you sure we should start the next video while we eat? If you get scared, there’s a good chance you’ll send the food flying,” Jeongguk teased.
“Ahh, Jeongguk-ah. I’ve gotten used to the jump scares by now. I won’t send the food flying,” Jin replied, and I scooted further towards the end of the sofa. Even I still flinch during the fourth game, so Jin is definitely going to send the food flying… Jeongguk scooted closer to the edge as well and started the first video of the fourth game.
“The first night is usually not that bad, I’m–” Markiplier said, being jumpscared and killed a second later. Jin jumped so hard he actually spilt some of his food, and Jeongguk and I burst out laughing.
“Told you so, Hyung,” Jeongguk said through laughter, and I had to set my bowl down so I wouldn’t spill mine too.
“What the hell was that? You know what? I’m done with this. This is actual hell! You like this, Louise?” Jin blurted, already trying to clean up. I couldn’t help but giggle.
“Yes, I like this very much. Especially part four,” I said, picking my bowl back up. “But fine, I guess that means you lose the bet.”
“Then so be it. I can’t keep watching this,” Jin said, clutching his chest dramatically. “I think I actually had a heart attack. What the hell?”
Warning: This story WILL touch very sensitive topics, like suicide, selfharm, self-hatred, etc. OC is deeply traumatized. Reader descretion is advised.
Summary: Louise Clark is a 21-year-old woman who tries to navigate her stressful live and university. During her master semesters, she gets the opportunity to work with BTS. This job changes her live once again, causing her to face her own insecurities and growing along the people closest to her.
<<If you want to be put on a taglist, send me an ask. They're open. >>
Chapter Fifteen
Do I Wanna Know? – Artic Monkeys
After finishing our slices of cake, we decided to head back slowly. Even though we’d sat down often, my feet had begun to ache – not to mention it was nearly eleven. As we left the café, the cool night air brushed my face, and I shivered.
“Is it the temperature change again?” Jeongguk asked, slipping his mask back on.
“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll pass soon,” I said, walking beside him towards Haeundae Market once again. When we stepped onto the street, it was noticeably quieter. Many of the stalls had already closed, and the neon signs seemed even more vibrant against the emptier street. I hadn’t even realised I’d slowed down until Jeongguk gently placed a hand on my lower back, urging me forward.
“As much as I enjoy watching you take everything in, please don’t stop in the middle of the street,” he murmured, leaning close to my ear. I laughed.
“Sorry, I just got a bit carried away,” I said, matching his pace this time. Still, his hand stayed on my lower back, making me painfully aware of his touch.
“Of all the things I’ve learned about you today, I didn’t expect you to be a rock star,” he said then. I laughed, fiddling with my rings.
“I wouldn’t call myself a rock star. You’re far closer to that status than I am,” I replied.
“Really? You’ve already got the rock star vibe. Whenever you walk into a room, you command everyone’s attention,” he teased. I covered my face with a hand and looked away. Did I really do that? How embarrassing…
“It’s a compliment, Lou. Don’t be embarrassed.” He nudged my side gently, his hand finally leaving my back. Instead, I slipped my right arm through his left. I didn’t want to fall behind again. We walked like that for a while, wrapped in comfortable silence.
“What was your favourite part of the night?” Jeongguk asked as we walked past the beach again. I stayed quiet for a few seconds before finding an answer.
“Hm… I think the café will stay in my mind for a while. The atmosphere there really captivated me. I hadn’t expected to end up somewhere like that, which makes it feel even more special,” I admitted, glancing up at him. Jeongguk looked away, a faint edge of annoyance in his expression.
“Was it because someone recognised you and your work?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“What? No,” I replied. “Didn’t you enjoy it?”
“I just wish I’d seen that side of you before he did,” Jeongguk muttered. I laughed under my breath.
“Were you jealous of the attention I gave him?” I teased, nudging him lightly.
“Of course I was. You were there with me, and he was out of line, asking you that so suddenly,” he admitted, meeting my gaze. I laughed again, giving his forearm a gentle squeeze.
“I doubt we’d have talked so intensely afterwards if he hadn’t asked me to sign the record,” I said, blushing as I remembered the feel of his hand against my cheek. I want to feel that again… Jeongguk huffed and looked ahead.
“What about you? What was your favourite part of the night?” I asked.
“Teaching you drinking etiquette and how a Korean BBQ works. It was nice getting to teach you something for once. Especially seeing you so focused. Did you know you purse your lips a little when you concentrate?” he said. I laughed quietly and shook my head. We kept walking, talking about the little moments that had made up the evening. It truly had been an amazing date.
The lights around us grew dimmer with each step we took towards the house. The atmosphere shifted from the bustle of the city to a calm, comfortable night walk with no one else in sight. It was strange to think we’d been surrounded by hundreds of people barely half an hour ago. Thinking of all those people, I just hoped no one had recognised him and that there wouldn’t be photos of us online by tomorrow. How would we even explain this to management?
“Do you have the key, Lou?” Jeongguk asked as we turned the last corner. I rummaged through my purse and pulled it out quickly.
“Thanks,” he murmured, taking the key and unlocking the gate. “After you.” He held it open, and I slipped through. Once it was locked behind us, we climbed the few steps to the main door.
“Lou, look at me, please,” he said suddenly, taking my hand. I stopped and turned, questioning him with my eyes. Jeongguk’s gaze locked with mine as he drew me closer by the hand. His other hand slid to my hip, while the one that had held mine came up to cup my cheek – just as it had at the café. He made sure my eyes didn’t leave his.
“Tonight… I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed myself this much. Not like this,” he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I did too,” I said softly.
“I don’t think the evening could’ve been any better. It was perfect,” he said quietly. I smiled. I could see he was fighting a little with himself. What is he thinking? My gaze didn’t waver as his forehead brushed against mine.
“Can I …?” Before I could grasp what he meant, his lips brushed mine, gentle, tentative, and warm. My arms instinctively wrapped around his back, drawing him closer to show him this felt right.
I had no idea how long we stood there, kissing softly, but it felt like an eternity. When he finally pulled away, I kept my eyes closed for a few seconds longer before looking at him. There was now a light in his eyes I’d never seen before. Jeongguk closed his eyes, let out a quiet sigh, and pressed a kiss to my forehead as if he wanted to compose himself. I smiled and placed my hand on his wrist. He released me, then unlocked the door.
“After you,” Jeongguk said with a faint smile.
“Thank you,” I said, stepping inside and slipping out of my shoes. I heard Jeongguk mumble something and I turned to look at him.
“What did you say?” I asked, tilting my head.
“Just thinking out loud. Nothing important,” he said. I frowned slightly.
“Okay… I- erm- I’m going to bed. I need to prepare tomorrow’s lesson and get enough sleep,” I said, not quite knowing what to do with myself now that the date was officially over.
“Sleep well, Lou,” Jeongguk said. I nodded, smiled, and hurried upstairs. I just don’t think I can already go to sleep after that kiss… but before bed, I took the postcard from my purse and looked at it. Smiling, I took out a pen and wrote ‘Thank you again for this absolutely wonderful evening’ on the back before placing it on his nightstand.
My alarm went off at nine the next morning, and I silenced it with an annoyed groan I should’ve taken some melatonin to help me sleep instead of lying awake for hours. I glanced at Jeongguk, still fast asleep beside me. Instantly, memories of last night rushed back all at once. Blushing, I buried my face in the pillow before getting up to grab a change of clothes, my laptop bag, and my violin.
After breakfast, I went out onto the terrace to work on the lesson planned for this evening. I worked quietly for about an hour, sipping my coffee now and then, before my mind began to drift. Catching myself, I sighed, leaned back, and finished my coffee. I really need to finish this before later… My eyes fell on my violin, and before I knew it, I’d tuned her, stood up, and begun to play something light and simple. I realised this was the first time I’d played since his death. I’d carried it with me everywhere but never played it – until now. The feeling was liberating. I hadn’t realised how much I needed this.
A tear slid down my cheek as I finished, and I drew in a shaky breath. I’d thrown myself into work, left England for a while – bottling up my emotions and dealing with them in my own way; essentially, running away. Why does it suddenly feel like I’m finally facing myself again?
“This was hauntingly beautiful,” Yoongi said suddenly from behind me. I turned quickly. “I mean, you said you played the violin, but I didn’t expect it to sound like that. Especially since your usual genre’s metalcore and pop-punk.” He took a slow sip from his cup, his eyes never leaving mine.
“He talked?” I asked, placing the violin gently back in her case.
“For at least an hour, I think. Seemed like you had a lovely evening,” he said, settling into one of the lounge chairs. I blushed and sat down as well.
“Yeah, it was really nice,” I mumbled, glancing at my laptop, its screen gone black.
“Hmm, sounds like you don’t really believe it was that nice,” Yoongi said.
“I really did enjoy myself last night. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a calm, peaceful evening. It’s just… it stirred up something I’d tried to bury deep before coming to Korea. Even though I brought my violin, I haven’t played it in a year and a half. And I hadn’t planned to. It’s just…” I sighed. “My mind keeps racing, jumping from one thought to another,” I admitted.
“Maybe you should write a song about it then?” Yoongi suggested.
“I could jot it down as an idea, but I can’t write songs right now,” I said, resting my elbows on my knees with a sigh.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked after a pause.
“No… not yet. I’m not ready,” I said, shaking my head. Yoongi watched me for a few moments before sighing.
“Well, I can’t force you. But the longer you bottle it up and bury it, the stronger it’ll grow. You need to voice it, or it’ll consume you,” he said, standing.
“I know,” I murmured, picking up my coffee cup and standing as well. Together, we went inside for another cup. While leaning against the kitchen counter, I noticed my leg growing numb and tingly, and my brows furrowed.
“Morning,” Jeongguk mumbled from behind us. I looked behind me and smiled.
“Good morning. You seem lively,” I teased. Jeongguk only huffed sleepily, grabbing a cup and pouring himself some apple juice. One by one, the others drifted in, and the kitchen filled with noise and laughter. But the tingling in my leg sharpened, burning now. Oh, I really should react soon. This could be bad…
“Hey, does anyone happen to know the weather forecast?” I asked after a moment.
“It’s meant to rain later, maybe even storm. Why?” Jimin replied. I sighed, running a hand through my hair.
“Shit, I need my meds… I’ll be right back,” I said, getting up and heading to my room. I tried to hide it, but the limp in my step was still obvious, at least to me. When I returned to the kitchen, everyone was looking at me in confusion. I just slipped on a pair of silicone gloves, pushed up my left trouser leg, and massaged in a cream containing capsaicin.
“I’ve got some bad scarring on my left leg from a car accident. It aches whenever the weather turns,” I said, summarising bluntly. There was more to it, but I didn’t want to go into detail.
“Oh damn, do you need anything?” Namjoon asked. I shook my head.
“There’s a chance I might start shaking if the cream doesn’t help, but it usually does. Don’t worry, I’m used to it by now,” I said, waving it off and continuing to massage the cream in. “I could use a crutch or something, though. Sometimes the leg gives out.” I glanced over at Jeongguk, who stared at me in disbelief.
“Jiminie, do we have any crutches here?” Namjoon asked, though my attention stayed fixed on Jeongguk.
“You really played that down yesterday. You said it was a big scar, but needing crutches because you’re in pain? That’s a whole different level,” he said, crossing his arms.
“I just left out a few details so you wouldn’t worry,” I mumbled. He sighed.
“We don’t have anything like that here,” Jimin said after a moment.
“I’ll carry her if her leg gives out,” Jeongguk said firmly. I looked at him in surprise.
“You don’t have to do that. That’s too–”
“I will carry you, if your leg gives out,” he said, tone unwavering. Realising it was pointless to argue, I sighed and nodded.
“By the way, should we do the lesson in about an hour, once everyone’s awake and ready to go?” I suggested, earning a few groans in response.
“I’d like to remind you that Sejin cleared the schedule for this English retreat. I’m already doing the bare minimum compared to what I actually planned,” I said, tossing the gloves aside and capping the cream. “So, I’ll see you lot in an hour in the living room. Anyone who’s late gets extra work.”
Warning: This story WILL touch very sensitive topics, like suicide, selfharm, self-hatred, etc. OC is deeply traumatized. Reader descretion is advised.
Summary: Louise Clark is a 21-year-old woman who tries to navigate her stressful live and university. During her master semesters, she gets the opportunity to work with BTS. This job changes her live once again, causing her to face her own insecurities and growing along the people closest to her.
<<If you want to be put on a taglist, send me an ask. They're open. >>
Chapter Fourteen
R U Mine? – Artic Monkeys
The farther we walked from the bustling market, the quieter it became around us. I glanced over my shoulder a few times, alarm bells ringing in my head. I wanted to trust Jeongguk, but this was exactly the kind of situation my friends had warned me about.
“Lou? Are you all right?” he asked as he stopped to turn to me. I stood a few metres behind, unsure whether to keep following him.
“Erm… are we there soon? This alley’s giving me the creeps,” I admitted, fiddling with my rings. Jeongguk smiled softly and held out his hand to me.
“You can already see the sign,” he said. I followed his gaze and spotted a crooked sign hanging above an entrance.
“Is that… a café?” I murmured, taking his hand hesitantly. He grabbed it firmly, drawing me to his side and leading me further down the alley. Somehow, the warmth of his hand calmed me more than I expected.
“You probably wouldn’t find this place on your own. It’s a locals’ secret,” Jeongguk said, stopping before the door. “That’s kind of the point. You don’t find it unless you already know it exists.” He released my hand, opened the door, and held it for me.
I stepped inside, my breath catching as I realised what a hidden gem this place was. My jaw dropped as I took it all in. To the left stood a coffee counter straight out of the nineties, an old record player perched on top. On the right were a few seating booths with mismatched chairs, some seemed to be dining chairs, others were armchairs, some were stools. None of the tables matched, nor the benches lining the wall. Shelves crammed with books and records divided the booths. The walls were plastered with plants, pictures, and old posters. I even spotted a crayon drawing clearly done by a four-year-old. The café looked as though it had been lifted straight from an edgy music film.
“Whoa, this is…” I murmured.
“Different?” Jeongguk guessed.
“No, beautiful,” I said, turning to look at him. A shy smile tugged at his lips.
“I love it here. The owner recognised me the first time I came,” he said. Just then, an older man emerged from the back. He waved, and Jeongguk and I bowed slightly in greeting. “But he doesn’t care whether you’re famous or not.” Jeongguk led me to a booth a little further back, one with a corner bench. He slid smoothly into the corner, and I sat down beside him. He seemed far more relaxed now that we were here. I picked up the menu lying in the middle of the table and glanced through it. Jeongguk draped his left arm over the backrest again, just like last night.
“You fit here,” he said suddenly. I looked up from the menu, startled.
“What?” I chuckled, confused.
“This place… it feels like you belong here. The little details, the calm,” he said, holding my gaze. A faint smile spread across his face as he looked at me with such sincerity that my breath caught in my throat.
“It suits you.” My eyes widened slightly as his words sank in. Heat rushed to my cheeks and ears. That he would suddenly say something like that – so simple yet so deep; I hadn’t expected that in the slightest. Not even his tone hinted that he might be joking. His words came from the bottom of his heart, and they landed in mine with immense weight.
All I could do was look into his eyes, my mind completely blank. How do you respond to such a heartfelt compliment without somehow ruining it? We held each other’s gaze for a few seconds before he cleared his throat, leaning back slightly as a faint pink dusted his cheeks.
“Well, the coffee’s amazing. That’s why I wanted to come here,” he mumbled, clearing his throat again and reaching for another menu. I stared at him for a few more seconds before I managed to tear my gaze away and look down at the menu in my hand. Even as I tried my hardest to focus on it, Jeongguk’s words kept echoing in my head.
“You’re making the menu look more complicated than it is, Lou,” Jeongguk teased, noticing I still hadn’t chosen anything.
“I don’t know what I want… I just want a coffee, but there are so many delicious options– I don’t know which one to try first,” I admitted, resting my head on my palm.
“Why don’t you just order all of them, then?” he suggested.
“Oh no, that’s far too much caffeine. I’d still like to be able to sleep later,” I said with a sigh.
“Shall I pick one from your suggestions, then? I worked my way through the menu with Jimin-ssi this morning,” he said. I nodded and told him the ones that sounded best to me.
“Hmm… would you rather have a hot or a cold one?” he asked.
“Erm… warm. My fingers are a bit cold right now,” I admitted. Jeongguk nodded, then stood to order our drinks. While I waited, I browsed the shelf beside me. I picked out a book which looked like a classic. I flipped through a few pages before slipping it back and scanning the records. The records on display dated back at least fifty years. It was an impressive collection – I even spotted a few rare ones. The fact that the owner displayed them anyway showed how secluded this place really was.
Jeongguk returned a few minutes later with our coffees, setting mine down in front of me.
“Thank you,” I said, turning from the records to face him. He sat just as before, his gaze following my every movement.
“What did you find?” he asked, taking the first sip from his cup. I lifted mine and took a sip as well. Uh, this is really good.
“Some rare special editions. I’ve got a small vinyl collection at my place in London, and I’d kill to have some of these in it. They’re hard to come by. the fact they’re casually on display here is amazing,” I said, turning fully towards him. He nodded, smiling. “How did you even find this place? It’s so secluded. It’s hard to believe you found this on your own.”
“I think Yoongi-hyung told me about it when we were filming a music video here a few years ago. He’s really into places like this and thought I’d find some peace here. He was right. Whenever I’m visiting family or here for work, I make sure to stop by at least once,” Jeongguk explained.
“This really became a safe haven for you once you became an idol, didn’t it? I’m honoured to see it,” I said. “I also like seeing you like this. You haven’t been this relaxed all evening.”
“You noticed?” he said, eyes widening slightly.
“Of course. That’s why I offered you the mask at the beach and why I didn’t wander too far at the market. You being this on edge? I doubt it was just the date making you that way,” I said. Jeongguk opened his mouth to reply, but the owner approached, cutting him off.
“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I have a question for you,” he said, looking at me. I frowned slightly, glancing at Jeongguk, who only shrugged.
“For me? What can I help you with?” I asked, wrapping both hands around my cup.
“If I’m overstepping, I apologise, but I have to ask… Are you Louise Clark? The lead singer of Chords of Ash?” the owner asked. I blinked at him, utterly bewildered.
“Huh?” was all I managed to get out.
“He asked if you’re the lead singer of Chords of Ash, Louise Clark?” Jeongguk repeated, his tone teasing. I shot him a warning, though playful, look before turning back to the owner.
“Yes, I am. How do you know me?” I managed at last.
“I keep track of bands who still release vinyl, and you’re one of them. Would you mind signing your first album for me and taking a picture together?” the owner asked. My hand clenched the fabric of my skirt beneath the table. I hadn’t expected this. I glanced at Jeongguk, who looked slightly annoyed.
“I don’t mind signing the record, but I’d rather not take a picture right now. The public isn’t supposed to know I’m in Korea,” I said.
“I completely understand. I’ll fetch the record,” the owner said, disappearing a moment later. I turned to Jeongguk, who sipped his drink sulkingly. My hands smoothed my skirt nervously as I drew a deep breath. I was about to say something when the owner returned with the record. He handed me the record, and memories flooded back as I looked at the cover. We’d been so young back then. I took a pen from my purse and signed the cover.
“I have to say, this is one of the best debut records I’ve ever heard, Miss Clark. ‘The Quiet Collapse’ stays with me. I’ve never heard pain expressed so beautifully. But I must admit, ‘Velvet Chains’ is the one I play the most. I never expected a song like that to be on repeat,” the owner said.
“Thank you for your kind words. ‘Velvet Chains,’ though… it was meant as a joke at first. I’m honestly a bit embarrassed that it’s your favourite,” I said, clutching my skirt beneath the table again and blushing. ‘Velvet Chains’ was, after all, a song about bondage in the bedroom. I’d clearly read far too many One Direction fanfictions back then…
“No, thank you for the autograph,” the owner said, reaching for the record.
“Could you leave it with us for now? I’ll return it when we head out,” Jeongguk said suddenly, his tone firm. I looked at him in surprise.
“Of course, I apologise for interrupting. Would you like a dessert to make up for it? It’s on the house, of course,” the owner said.
“In that case, could we have two slices of strawberry cake?” Jeongguk asked.
“Coming right up,” the owner said, hurrying away. Jeongguk reached for the record, but I stopped him with a hand on his. He glanced down at my hand on his, then back up at me, pressing his tongue against his cheek.
“So… it’s fine to talk with him about your music, but not with me?” he said, annoyance edging his voice.
“No, that’s not it. I’m happy to talk about my music with you, it’s just… a few of the songs on this album started as jokes, but they came together so well we had to release them. They grew on us during production,” I said. He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.
“And what’s wrong with that?” he asked, drawing the record towards him.
“There should be a booklet with all the lyrics inside,” I murmured, watching him study the cover.
“You’re standing funny in this,” Jeongguk pointed out.
“I think we shot that cover while I was still on crutches. I couldn’t put a lot of weight on my left leg without sharp pain,” I explained.
“Oh, so this album’s about that?” he said, pulling out the booklet.
“Eh, more or less. I started writing songs to cope with giving up dancing — my brother’s idea, actually. Martin wrote two love songs for Mary; she cried the first time she heard them. I’d say the album’s mostly about new beginnings and us experimenting with different sounds,” I explained.
“Martin’s your older brother, right?” he asked. I nodded, watching Jeongguk skim through the lyrics.
“What genre would you call this?” he asked.
“Mostly metalcore and pop-punk, with a few ballads. We try to stick to metalcore, but sometimes a certain emotion needs a certain sound. What matters most to us is expressing emotions,” I answered.
“Like the music you listen to. The more you feel, the better it is for you. Wasn’t that what you said once?” Jeongguk asked, looking at me.
“I’m amazed you remember that. But yes, I want to make music that lets people really feel,” I said. He smirked slightly, continuing to look over the lyrics.
“Let me guess, you wrote ‘The Quiet Collapse’? It’s really deep, and–” He broke off mid-sentence as he turned the page, eyebrows knitting. I edged closer to peek over his shoulder. Oh no, he’s looking at the lyrics for ‘Velvet Chains’ and ‘Tie Me Down’. “‘I crave the pain, I need the choke,’ and ‘I’m begging you, tighter’? Lou, what exactly are those songs about?” I buried my face in my hands.
“They were meant as a joke,” I mumbled, mortified. Jeongguk laughed, gently tugging my hands away from my face.
“Somehow, I don’t quite believe you,” he said, teasing.
“They really were written as a joke! We just wanted to poke fun at fanfiction tropes,” I protested, pouting. He laughed again and slipped the booklet back into the record sleeve.
“I’ll definitely be listening to your songs tomorrow. The lyrics have already pulled me in. You can feel the emotions you wanted to convey just from the words. Now I want to hear how the music ties it all together,” Jeongguk said with a smirk. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll even add a few to my playlists.”
“Stop smiling like that! Don’t listen to them just so you can tease me later,” I said, pounting. He reached for my hand again.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Lou. I really want to hear what you and your band have to say, like you did with us,” Jeongguk said, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ve got one last question.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“You said you want to express emotions through your music. What happened a year and a half ago — the reason you’ve got a writer’s block — is that an emotion you haven’t learned to voice yet?” he asked. And again, that man floored me with his words. How had he managed to understand me so well, so quickly? I could only stare at him.
“I don’t need the story. I know you don’t want to talk about it today. Just tell me yes or no,” he went on. I swallowed hard and nodded faintly. “I’m sure you’ll find the words for it one day.” My eyes stung, and I blinked rapidly to stop the tears from spilling.
“Oh no, don’t cry. Please don’t,” he murmured, placing his right hand on my cheek and gently brushing it with his thumb. I closed my eyes for a moment, laid my left hand over his, and leaned into his touch. “You have no idea how much it haunts me that I still can’t write that song,” I murmured. He sighed softly and kept stroking my cheek until I let go of his hand. I reached for my coffee, only then noticing that two slices of cake had appeared in front of us. Neither Jeongguk nor I had noticed the owner bringing them over. I swallowed dryly, took a sip of my coffee, and picked up my fork. As I took the first bite, my eyes drifted to the record of my first album. I wanted desperately to go back to those days. Even though it had been hard back then, it still felt as if we had a bright future ahead of us. I don’t have that feeling anymore.
Warning: This story WILL touch very sensitive topics, like suicide, selfharm, self-hatred, etc. OC is deeply traumatized. Reader descretion is advised.
Summary: Louise Clark is a 21-year-old woman who tries to navigate her stressful live and university. During her master semesters, she gets the opportunity to work with BTS. This job changes her live once again, causing her to face her own insecurities and growing along the people closest to her.
<<If you want to be put on a taglist, send me an ask. They're open. >>
Chapter Thirteen
Arabella – Artic Monkeys
“Should I explain the side dishes now?” Jeongguk asked after we finished our second round of drinks. “How well do you handle spiciness?”
“Very well. I love spicy food,” I said with a grin.
“Okay, taste your way through everything, and I’ll tell you what each one is,” he said. I nodded, picked up my chopsticks, and began tasting each dish. Jeongguk softly explained exactly what I was eating, and I listened carefully. Without me even noticing, he placed the bowls of my favourite dishes in front of me. As he was explaining the last dish, the server returned with our meat and set it down beside Jeongguk. Jeongguk paused to thank him, and I followed.
“Let me guess: since you’re younger, you’re the one grilling?” I said as the server left again.
“You’re slowly getting the hang of it,” he said, cutting the meat with scissors and placing it on the grill. The soft sizzle of meat hitting the hot iron reached my ears.
“So,” Jeongguk said suddenly, “when do you plan to tell me why you sometimes space out?”
“Oh right. I did say I’d tell you my life story over a drink, didn’t I?” I said, and Jeongguk nodded. “I don’t think this story suits the moment. It’s… not exactly a happy one.” I watched him while talking. Jeongguk was an absolute pro at this. How he flipped the meat from time to time almost looked completely natural to him.
“Hm, I see,” he said, his tone laced with disappointment.
“It’s just – there’s a good chance I’ll cry, and I’d rather do that behind closed doors than in public with makeup on. I spent too much time on it to ruin it,” I explained.
“Promise you’ll tell me soon?” Jeongguk said, holding out his pinky. I hesitated, then hooked my pinky around his.
“Pinky promise,” I said. I hesitated, then hooked my pinky around his. I wanted to eat the meat as they were, but Jeongguk stopped me.
“Mix them with the dishes. It tastes way better than eating the meat alone,” he said. “Just mix it however you want. I’ll show you the best way soon.” I nodded and began mixing the side dishes with the meat.
“Even if you don’t want to tell me why you sometimes space out, can you at least tell me about your life in England? Talking about mine feels pointless — you probably already know most of it,” Jeongguk joked.
“But that’s only because your digital footprint is terrible. ARMY archives everything you’ve ever posted,” I laughed.
“Yeah, that’s probably on us,” he said.
“It is,” I chuckled. “Growing up in England… I think I grew up pretty sheltered and nice. Especially my early childhood was a dream. When I was four, I started doing ballet. My parents pretty much handed me everything I wanted on a silver platter.”
“You did ballet? For how long?”
“Until I was fifteen, so more than ten years. I had to stop after I was in a car accident. They repaired my left tibia with several plates and screws, which were removed about two years ago. The whole ordeal left a long scar running from my ankle almost up to my knee,” I explained. Jeongguk looked at me in shock.
“I never noticed that scar,” he murmured.
“I usually keep it covered so people don’t notice right away. Even though the wounds healed, I still hate talking about it out of nowhere. People always ask how I got it, and that used to really bother me after the accident. So, I started dressing differently to hide it.”
“Did the doctors tell you, you could never dance again?”
“Not professionally, no. I still dance as a hobby, but I had to let go of my childhood dream of becoming a prima ballerina with the Royal Ballet in London.” I exaggerated a sigh to show I was fine with it now.
“So, you decided to become a teacher?” Jeongguk asked, placing pieces of meat, garlic, kimchi, and sauce into a lettuce leaf. “Try this in one bite.” He held a lettuce wrap in front of me. I eyed it, leaned forward, and stuffed it into my mouth. The wrap looked smaller than it actually was, so I had to cover my mouth with my hand just to chew – but it tasted incredible. The struggle was totally worth it.
“This is amazing. What exactly did you put in it?” I asked once I had swallowed. Jeongguk made another wrap while I watched closely. This time, he didn’t add as much, feeding it to me again. I nodded approvingly, humming contently.
“This is called a ssam,” Jeongguk said. “But you still haven’t answered my question from before though.”
“Oh, right. I have a… counter-question for you instead. Did any of you ever google me?” I asked. He furrowed his brows.
“What does this have to do with your Plan B?”
“Because teaching is my Plan C. Please, google me now. I want to see you reaction,” I said, smirking. He pulled out his phone while I watched.
“You’re a protagonist from a book?” Jeongguk sounded so confused that I couldn’t help but giggle.
“Add ‘Chords of Ash’ after it,” I said, continuing to eat. I watched him closely as his jaw dropped slightly.
“You make music?” he asked, eyes wide as he looked between his phone and me. I burst out laughing.
“I can’t believe you never thought about googling me or finding my Instagram,” I laughed. Jeongguk quickly put his phone away.
“I don’t think any of us ever googled you, not even Namjoon-hyung,” Jeongguk said.
“Well, we’re on hiatus right now, mostly because I’ve had writer’s block for almost a year and a half,” I admitted.
“How come?”
“Something happened back then.” I kept it vague, feeling my mood dip as unpleasant memories crowded in. I stared at the meat in front of me, blinking rapidly to keep from crying.
“Oh, that topic. Sorry. Uh… I heard British schools have uniforms, but not all of them, right? Did your school have one?” Jeongguk changed the topic smoothly, and I shot him a grateful look.
“Yeah, I had to wear one in primary school. Luckily, girls were allowed to wear pants too, so I could still run around properly and play with my friends,” I said, slipping easily into childhood memories right after.
For the rest of dinner, I did most of the talking, with Jeongguk chiming in now and then, carefully steering clear of the topics of my band’s hiatus and my family after I turned eighteen. We also finished the two bottles of soju and switched to non-alcoholic drinks after that.
Somewhere along the way, I realized how relaxed and comfortable I’d become, telling one anecdote after another. Whenever our legs brushed beneath the table, Jeongguk blushed, and each tiny touch seemed to be filled with electricity.
“I’m so full,” I said after we finished the last bit. “I don’t think there’s even room for dessert.” I leaned back on my palms and looked up at the ceiling.
“So… you don’t want some noodles or soup?” he asked. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, mildly terrified, without moving my head.
“If I eat more, I think I’ll be sick,” I admitted.
“I guess I should’ve told you it’s tradition to have noodles or soup after BBQ, before ordering some more meat,” he said, chuckling.
“Yeah, you should’ve,” I said, sighing.
“Then we’ll skip it for once. I don’t want you hanging over a bowl,” Jeongguk teased, making me giggle.
“Yeah, that’s definitely better,” I said, stretching my legs again until they brushed lightly against Jeongguk’s. “Do you have anything else planned, or are we heading back after we pay?”
“Do you really think I’d only show you the beach when we’re in the city?” he responded. I huffed and shrugged.
“Yeah, I guess not,” I said with a small laugh. He nodded, checking the time on his watch and for whatever reason, I thought this was ridiculously attractive.
“Should we go for a walk, then?” he suggested.
“To where?”
“You’ll see.” Jeongguk stood up first and offered me his hand to help me up. I gladly took it and found myself once again far too close to him.
“Now you’re just doing it on purpose,” I said, pouting.
“What if I am?” he said, teasing. I rolled my eyes and bent down to put on my shoes. I quickly grabbed a mask from my purse as we headed to the counter to pay. I handed him the mask, and moments later we stepped outside into the cool night air. I shivered at the sudden drop in temperature.
“Are you cold?” Jeongguk asked, leading the way again.
“No, it’s just– it was much warmer inside, so the change made me shiver,” I answered, quickening my pace to walk beside him. He nodded, glancing over every now and then as if to make sure I wouldn’t suddenly vanish.
“Why are we going back to the beach?” I asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence.
“We’re not. Remember the market we passed on our way to the restaurant?” he replied, and I nodded. “That’s where we’re going.”
“They had so many food stalls… it’d be a waste not to try them…” I mumbled.
“Didn’t you just say you were too full even for soup?” Jeongguk chuckled, brushing lightly against me.
“Well, yeah. It’d still be a waste not to try at least something. And whatever I can’t finish, you can have,” I said, turning slightly to get a better look at him.
“What am I? Your personal waste bin?” he replied.
“No, maybe I should’ve said it as ‘we could share something’,” I said. My cheeks were starting to ache by now, because somehow, he always managed to make me smile at the simplest things.
He sighed playfully. As we rounded the next corner, we suddenly found ourselves in the middle of the market. My eyes widened slightly as I took in all the colours and lights. We wandered slowly through the market, stopping every now and then to look at things but not buying anything. I wanted a souvenir to remember the evening, but so far nothing felt right.
Sometimes we stopped simply so Jeongguk could explain the historical or cultural significance of certain pieces. Whenever he did, I listened intently, soaking up every word like a sponge.
At some point, we neared the beach again and stopped at a stall clearly aimed at tourists, yet somehow it caught both of our attention. Without a word, we browsed through the stall’s items separately. In the end, I picked out a hand-drawn post card of the Busan skyline at night. It reminded me of paintings by artists like Monet. Though somewhat blurry, the painting carried an immersive calm, seemingly capturing a single moment frozen in time. I looked up to find Jeongguk still browsing nearby.
“Hey, I found something. I’ll pay for it and wait outside, okay?” I said as I approached him.
“Okay, I’ll hurry,” he said, nodding.
“No, no, don’t worry. Take your time,” I said, smiling. He just nodded, watching me walk to the register to pay. I carefully placed the card in my purse, then took out my phone. It was nearly nine o’clock. Had four hours really passed that quickly? I glanced at my notifications, but nothing important had come through, so I ended up scrolling through Instagram for a few minutes.
“Hey, could you hold onto this for now?” Jeongguk asked, stepping out of the little souvenir shop and holding out a small paper bag.
“Of course,” I said, taking the bag and slipping it into my purse. We made our way back up the market, stopping a few minutes later at a hotteok stall.
“Are those… pancakes?” I asked, tilting my head slightly.
“Hm, that’s actually a pretty fitting description. They’re usually filled with brown sugar syrup and nuts. Want to try some?” he said. I nodded eagerly, my mouth watering at the sight. Pancakes and maple syrup go amazingly well together, so I wondered if these would taste just as good. I watched Jeongguk order, then gladly accepted the paper bowl he handed me.
“Thank you,” I said smiling, picking up the skewer and munching down on one.
“Oh, this is amazing!” I said, jumping slightly at the delicious taste.
“Glad you like it,” Jeongguk said, stealing one for himself as well. We continued our stroll through the market, slowly. After finishing the snack, I yawned suddenly.
“Want some coffee?” Jeongguk asked.
“Where would you even get coffee at this hour?” I asked.
“I know a place. Follow me,” he replied.
“You don’t need to tell me that. I’ve been following you all evening,” I teased, making sure to walk closely beside him. We turned a few corners, ending up in a quiet alley, leaving the bustling market behind. Where is he taking me now?
Warning: This story WILL touch very sensitive topics, like suicide, selfharm, self-hatred, etc. OC is deeply traumatized. Reader descretion is advised.
Summary: Louise Clark is a 21-year-old woman who tries to navigate her stressful live and university. During her master semesters, she gets the opportunity to work with BTS. This job changes her live once again, causing her to face her own insecurities and growing along the people closest to her.
Chapter Twelve
Sweater Weather – The Neighborhood
“Okay, I trust Jess and Mary gave you good advice. So, where are we going?” I asked excitedly, a bounce in my step.
“First, we’re going to Haeundae Beach. You’ll get a beautiful view of the ocean and the city,” he answered.
“And after that?” I asked.
“What makes you think we’re doing more than that?” he teased.
“You said ‘first’. So? I want to know the rest of your plan,” I said.
“I’ll tell you when we get there,” Jeongguk replied. I sighed and looked up at the sky, noticing the sun would set in about half an hour.
“That’s why you wanted to meet at five…” I murmured.
“What do you mean?” Jeongguk asked.
“The sun’s about to set. You want to watch the sunset first,” I explained with a sheepish smile. “How impossibly romantic.”
“I just think it’s worth seeing,” he said with a casual shrug. But I noticed the faint pink dusting his cheeks and ears. So, it really was a romantic gesture, and he just played it down.
I smiled as we walked toward the beach in comfortable silence. I took in the streets around us, noticing that Jeongguk seemed a little on edge. Maybe he was worried about being recognized? I reached into my purse and pulled out a black mask.
“Do you want to wear it?” I asked him, holding the mask out. He looked at it, then at me.
“Do you want me to wear it?” he responded.
“If it makes you more comfortable, then yes,” I said. Jeongguk smiled softly, took the mask from my hands – his fingers brushing against mine – before slipping it on. He seemed to relax only a little, though. With the new album’s success, maybe Namjoon had told him to be extra cautious while we were out.
As we turned a corner, the beach and city came into view, and I stopped in my tracks. The sun was about to set, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and red. It was a breathtaking sight. I quickly pulled out my phone and snapped a picture.
“Whoa, this is beautiful,” I murmured as we kept walking. “Starting here was such a good idea.”
“I know. You’ve been saying for the past two weeks how much you wanted to see the beach. That’s why I picked it as our first stop,” Jeongguk explained. We reached the beach quickly, and I immediately realized my shoes were a terrible idea. I walked as far as I could before slipping them off. I’d rather avoid sand in my shoes and the blisters that come with it.
“Oh, can’t walk in heels on sand?” Jeongguk teased, offering me his hand as I slipped my shoes off. I gladly took it.
“I may walk in heels a lot, but this definitely pushes my limits,” I said, letting go of his hand as we stepped onto the sand.
“Hm, I thought you could,” Jeongguk said, burying his hands in his pockets as he strolled beside me. I glanced from the sunset to the ocean and the city to our right, sighing contently. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a view this much. Not to mention, the ridiculously handsome man beside me just adds to it. Every now and then, I snapped another photo of the scenery. I really wanted to remember this moment. I was so absorbed in the view that I didn’t notice Jeongguk snapping a few candid photos of me. I only realized it when I was a few steps ahead and turned back to him, a bright smile spreading across my face.
“Wait, why are you taking pictures of me?” I asked as I hopped over to him.
“Because I want to remember the view,” Jeongguk said, a little sheepishly. I huffed, pretending to be annoyed. We sat on a bench near the street, where I could brush the sand from my feet while watching the sun sink completely below the horizon. I swung my legs gently and leaned back.
“So this was your idea, not Mary’s or Jess’s?” I asked.
“All the spots were my idea. They just gave me some inspiration,” Jeongguk replied. I tilted my head at him, curious. He sighed.
“When I was younger, my family used to come here every summer. I think I even learned to swim in that ocean,” he said, holding my gaze. “That’s why I wanted to bring you here first.” I smiled softly at that.
“So it really was your idea, then,” I replied. “I think I learned to swim in the ocean too. But mine was a lot colder than this one. The English coast isn’t exactly known for its scenic beaches. We only have a few.” I laughed.
“How old were you?” Jeongguk asked.
“Hm, maybe four. My mom said it was around the same time I started ballet,” I answered.
“You danced?”
“Huh? Oh yeah, I loved it. It was the perfect way to tire me out. But I had to quit because-” My stomach growled loudly before I could finish, and I giggled. “Well, I’ll tell you that story over food.”
“Good thing dinner’s our next stop,” Jeongguk said as he stood up. I stood up quickly as well, and together we headed into the busy streets of Haeundae, the sun now completely gone behind us.
“What are we having?” I asked, excitement bubbling in my voice.
“Korean BBQ,” Jeongguk said simply, guiding me through the busy streets. I glanced left and right, overwhelmed by everything around me. So, this is what culture shock feels like. I’d felt it a bit in Seoul, but this was so much more intense…
“Oh, I’ve never had Korean BBQ before. I feel like you’re setting me up for failure,” I said, grabbing his wrist so I wouldn’t get lost in the crowd. The street was so crowded it would be easy to get separated.
“Don’t worry. I’ll guide you through it. Especially now that I know you have no idea about Korean culture,” he said in a teasing tone, gently pulling me to his side so I could hear him better. I pouted, pretending to sulk.
“No one ever explained this to me… how was I supposed to know?” I mumbled. Jeongguk chuckled, and a few moments later we stepped into a restaurant.
“Welcome! Table for two?” the hostess greeted us with a gentle smile. Jeongguk took off his mask and handed it back to me. I noticed her eyes widen for a brief moment.
“Actually, I made a reservation this morning. I know we’re a little early. My apologies,” Jeongguk said, bowing deeply.
“Oh, not a problem. Let me check your reservation,” she said, stepping behind a small counter and flipping through a booklet.
“Your room should be ready. Please follow me,” she said, leading the way. We followed close behind.
“This is your room. A server will be with you in about ten minutes so you can get settled and decide what you’d like,” the hostess said. She bowed, then left, closing the door softly behind her.
“You actually reserved a room?” I asked, glancing around. The room was small and cozy. In the centre stood a dark, narrow table with a built-in grill, surrounded by scattered cushions. Cutlery had already been neatly laid out on the table. A silver ventilation hood hung from the ceiling, its sleek metal contrasting with the warm glow of the paper lanterns around it. The walls were panelled in wood and paper, matching the sliding doors. A bamboo-like plant stood in each corner of the room. And even though the walls looked thin, they were clearly well insulated. The room was much quieter than the restaurant outside. Being in this room felt like a break from the rush of the streets outside.
“Yeah, it’s easier this way… no one can disturb us here,” Jeongguk said as he took off his shoes. I quickly did the same, and we sat down: me on the right side, Jeongguk facing the door.
“I see. You seem a lot more relaxed now. Were you that anxious about being recognized?” I asked.
“I don’t mind being recognized,” he said, “but I’d hate for the media to start spreading rumors about you – or for someone to send you death threats – just because we’re out together.” I nodded quietly. He had put so much thought into this. It felt like he had planned everything down to the tiniest detail.
“Okay, so, beef or pork?” Jeongguk asked, resting his elbows lightly on the table.
“Hm… mostly beef. But my dad used to make a killer pork belly whenever we grilled at home, so that too,” I said. Jeongguk nodded while I shifted on the cushion, which made him giggle.
“Stop laughing at me. Sitting on a cushion in a slit dress is really difficult. I should’ve worn safety shorts underneath. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about flashing anyone,” I said, holding the skirt in place as I tried to get comfortable.
“Maybe I should’ve warned you about the setup,” he mumbled, resting his cheek in his hand.
“Yes, you should’ve,” I replied, finally settling in. Just then, the door slid open and a server stepped inside.
“Welcome,” the server said, pulling out a small notepad. “What would you like to order?”
“Hello, we’ll have the marinated beef and pork belly,” Jeongguk said. Then he turned to me. “Oh, I forgot to ask. Do you have any allergies or dietary restrictions, Lou?” I quickly shook my head.
“And what would you like to drink?” the server asked. I felt completely overwhelmed by the situation, so I let Jeongguk handle the order. Without realizing it, I sank a little into myself, eyes fixed on my fingers as I fidgeted with the rings on them.
“Two bottles of soju, please,” Jeongguk said, glancing at me with quiet concern.
“Coming right up,” the server said before slipping out of the room.
“Lou, are you alright?” Jeongguk asked. I blinked, pulled from my thoughts. My fingers were still fidgeting, so he gently took my hands in his. “Are you uncomfortable?”
“Oh no, it’s not that. New situations with a lot of interactions with strangers tend to overwhelm me quickly. I’m fine,” I explained, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He let out a sigh of relief.
“That’s good,” Jeongguk said, releasing my hand. “But please tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable, though. I want you to enjoy this.” I smiled at him.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll let you know if you upset me,” I said. “Speaking of upsetting me, how did you forget to tell me I’d have to share a room with someone? It’s not a big deal, I don’t mind, but I would have liked to know beforehand.”
“Oh boy, of course you’d bring that up… I guess it just slipped my mind. My hyungs and I always share rooms, and they knew we’d be doing the same this time. I didn’t consider that you’d be coming along, since I’ve started to think of you as one of us now. The others do the same, actually… Maybe that’s why. But I’m still really sorry for not telling you,” Jeongguk explained. I huffed softly, pleased with his answer.
“It’s fascinating how you managed to slip a compliment in while apologizing,” I said.
“How did I complement you?” he asked, laughing softly.
“Do you have any idea what a compliment it is to hear ‘I think of you as one of us now’? Especially from someone you once idolized?” I replied.
“Once? You don’t anymore? But you have a tattoo of us,” he teased. I glared at him.
“You can only idolize someone if you don’t know them personally, or if it’s in a professional setting where you maintain some emotional distance. I know you personally, so I can’t idolize you anymore,” I explained. “But I can still admire you for your work – and I do.” Jeongguk opened his mouth to reply, but three servers appeared at once: one with our drinks, another carrying dishes that looked like side plates, and the third to light the coal in the grill. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. We didn’t order all this, did we?
“Thank you,” Jeongguk said, his eyes fixed on me.
“Thank you,” I echoed, watching the servers bow as they stepped out.
“Did we order all of this?” I asked once the door closed behind them.
“Oh no, we didn’t. At Korean BBQ restaurants, it’s standard to serve a set of side dishes. They’re included, like tap water,” Jeongguk explained. “But before you try them, let me explain drinking etiquette to you.” I blinked at him, slightly startled.
“Drinking etiquette?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, drinking etiquette.” He was grinning from one ear to another.
“You’re telling me I’ve already drunk with you twice – tipsy both times – and no one thought to mention that there’s a proper drinking etiquette?” I asked, incredulous. Jeongguk nodded, laughing. “Seriously, I’ve been living in Korea for two months now. I thought I’d managed to overcome most of the culture shocks. But in the last two days, I’ve faced more than in the entire two months. What the hell?” I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. “I feel like a total idiot. I’ve probably violated every cultural norm there is.”
“Yes, you did break a few. But none of us cared. You’re a foreigner, we cut you some slack,” he replied. “Let me show you how it’s done properly. It’s never too late to learn, right?” He set the shot glasses in front of us, still grinning from ear to ear.
“First, the younger one or the one in a subordinate position pours for the other. Then, it’s the other way around. While I pour your shot, you hold the glass with both hands,” Jeongguk explained. I listened carefully, picking up the glass with one hand at first, then quickly correcting myself. Jeongguk picked up a bottle of soju, gave it a gentle shake, and opened it – a soft pop escaping the bottle.
“Hold the glass as steady as you can. My hands are a bit shaky today,” Jeongguk suggested. I nodded, gripping the glass firmly with both hands. I watched him closely as he poured my drink, setting the glass down afterward.
“Now it’s your turn,” Jeongguk said, picking up his glass and sliding the soju bottle toward me. I nodded, picking up the bottle with my right hand. He held out his glass for me.
“Both hands, Lou,” he softly corrected. I quickly added my other hand to the bottle. “Yeah, like that.” I pursed my lips in concentration and poured him his drink as well. I smiled triumphantly as I set the bottle back on the table.
“Did I do it right?” I asked.
“Yes, you did. Good job,” Jeongguk said. I grinned, picking up my glass.
“One last thing. You usually don’t look at someone while drinking,” he added.
“Oh, hell no. I’m way too superstitious for that. We always look each other in the eyes while drinking,” I said firmly.
“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“In Europe, you lock eyes while drinking. Otherwise, it’s said you’ll have bad luck in intimate, physical relationships,” I explained.
“In other words, you don’t want bad luck in bed,” he teased.
“Ah, how vulgar. I worded it much better,” I replied, giggling and raising my glass. He chuckled, clinking his glass against mine and holding my gaze steadily.
“Cheers,” he said warmly.
“Cheers,” I replied, and we both downed our drinks. Jeongguk looked at me, eyes sparkling with expectation.
“Strawberry soju is way sweeter than this,” I mumbled, pouting slightly. He chuckled.
“I thought you’d be more shocked by how bitter it is,” he said, teasing.
“Oh please, whiskey is way worse than this, and I love whiskey.” I chuckled, reaching for the soju bottle with my left hand already on my glass. Just as my fingers grazed the bottle, Jeongguk gently grabbed my hand, pulling it away.
“If you want another drink, tell me. I’ll pour it for you — I’m younger, remember. Never pour for yourself,” he demanded softly, holding my hand as if he might kiss the back of it. I glanced quickly between our hands and his face.
“For the entire dinner?”
“For the entire dinnerI sighed but smiled softly. It felt a little like being babied, but not in a bad way — more like he simply wanted to play it by the book.
“Alright then,” I said, releasing his hand and lifting my glass with both hands.
