BOY IN LUV (REWRITTEN)
CHAPTER 13
PAIRING : Yandere! Bully! Taehyung x Reader
SUMMARY : Your encounter with the campus bad boy was a disaster. All you wanted was to never see him again. But when his punishing attention shifts to you, your world begins to change. When have things ever gone your way?
WARNINGS : Mature language, Obsessive behaviour, Yandere behaviour, Intimidating Actions
A/N- This will be uploaded in episodes, with a new chapter being uploaded every month. However, I will be uploading two chapters per month on my Patreon. As of the date of upload of this chapter here on Tumblr, my Patreon subscribers have access to the fic uptil the 23rd Chapter, with Chapter 24 due to be uploaded soon. If you can, please support my Patreon. Many thanks and enjoy!
MY PATREON
I do not own BTS ( :((( ) My intention is not to glorify toxic behavior nor do I believe BTS member would ever act like this. It’s just a figment of my imagination. Know the difference. Please.
Previous | Next
Taglist: @scuzmunkie @calmyourtitts7 @hoelychildofgod @devilzliaison @lilyalone @ne7zach @sassybearfire @mar-lo-pap @cprcupcakke @chabichi @darklove2020
You spent the rest of the day drifting in and out of a heavy, cotton-thick sleep. It never felt like real rest, more like your mind kept sinking into a swamp and clawing its way up again without ever reaching the surface. Every time your eyes cracked open, the room looked a little different as though someone had nudged the world an inch to the left.
Sometimes it was a nurse standing beside you, tapping at the IV line or murmuring something about antibiotics. Sometimes it was your father with his reading glasses perched low, pretending to read the newspaper while glancing at you every ten seconds. Sometimes it was Mom sitting at the edge of the chair, knees bouncing.
But most often it was Taehyung.
Always in that same chair, posture relaxed like he’d been grown from the plastic frame itself. He never looked tired. He never looked bored. As if the hospital’s stiff white light had been designed just for him.
You weren’t awake long enough each time to piece anything together. You only remember flashes- the warm weight of a blanket being pulled higher over you, his voice telling someone that you were still in pain, your mother tucking your hair behind your ear, Taehyung’s silhouette leaning forward just slightly as if listening for the change in your breathing.
Then came the food. The first two meals were the standard hospital smears with overboiled vegetables, rice with no smell, soup that tasted like the memory of chicken more than actual chicken. You couldn’t even finish them. Your tongue was too heavy, your jaw felt too slow. You pushed the trays away, grimacing and Taehyung watched silently, eyes narrowed the tiniest bit as though cataloguing each expression.
By the time the third meal arrived, you were too tired to even dread it. You blinked blearily at the tray being lowered onto the table beside you. You didn’t notice any difference at first. Everything looked too bright and too blurry.
“Try to eat” someone-maybe your mother?-said softly.
But when the lid lifted, something shifted in your foggy brain. The smell hit first. Warm, subtle, nothing like the usual metallic hospital scent. The soup was still plain-looking but the aroma was deeper- ginger, maybe something herbal, something comforting. Not complicated but thoughtful. You blinked again, trying to focus. Your vision doubled for a moment before sliding back into place.
You picked up the spoon sluggishly. Even the movement felt like wading through water.
The first sip surprised you so much you paused mid-blink. It was mild, yes…. but rich and balanced. It soothed your throat in a way the earlier one hadn't. You frowned slightly, trying to understand why it tasted like someone had made it on purpose, not in bulk.
You heard movement to your right but your neck refused to turn. Someone was there. Someone watching.
You went for the fruit bowl next. You didn’t even remember agreeing to it. Your fingers felt clumsy around the fork but you managed to spear a piece of something orange, something you didn’t recognize. Not papaya. Not mango, this was juicier
.
When you bit into it, sweetness burst on your tongue so suddenly you sucked in a small, surprised breath.
“What…?” you murmured, half to yourself, half to the room. Or maybe not to anyone at all. The medication made your thoughts slur inward like half-melted wax.
You tried another piece, something pale green, crisp but melting. You frowned again, brow wrinkling. These weren’t fruits hospitals normally stocked. They weren’t even fruits your mother brought home. Too fresh and exotic.
You blinked slowly, trying to clear the haze. The IV tugged unpleasantly against your skin.
When your gaze finally shifted, you saw Taehyung. Sitting exactly where he always was, elbow on the armrest, chin tilted slightly as he watched you eat with the kind of focus people reserved for documentaries or rare celestial events. His expression was unreadable, something blank over something intense.
You parted your lips to ask something, anything, but the words muddled together in your head. So instead, you went back to the fruit because chewing felt easier than speaking. The flavors were vivid, too vivid, cutting through the fog only to deepen it again.
Had he done this? You couldn’t tell. The room felt too soft around the edges, too dreamlike. The ticking clock sounded far away, your pulse too loud and Taehyung’s presence too close. Everything was too much and not enough at the same time.
You ate another spoonful of soup, warm spreading down to your stomach like a slow glow.
You didn’t realize he was smiling, not fully, not a real smile, just the ghost of satisfaction curling at the corner of his mouth until your eyes fluttered open again after another brief drift into sleep.
Or maybe you imagined that too. The medicine made everything slippery.
You let your head sink back into the pillow, too tired to keep trying to understand anything.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Your mother had been watching Taehyung for a while now, watching the way he hovered near your bed, always standing too close, always alert, always ready to leap forward at the slightest movement you made.
At first she thought it was sweet. Then she started noticing things.
How he answered nurses’ questions before she could. How he adjusted your blankets with a familiarity he wasn’t entitled to. How he always seemed to know when you were about to wake up, appearing at your bedside before your eyes even fully opened.
Your mother stood, checking the flowers on the side table, fresh, expensive, different from the ones earlier. Lilies, orchids, roses in pale colors she’d never seen in the hospital gift shop. There was a new bouquet every few hours, now that she thought about it.
Another florist. Another handwritten card in Taehyung’s smooth, neat script.
“Oh…. more?” your mother said, not quite annoyance, not quite confusion. “You didn’t have to. These must have cost so much, son.”
Taehyung gave a soft smile. “They make the room feel livelier. She shouldn't wake up to plain walls.”
Your father’s brow twitched.
So finally, after another round of hospital food and another hour of Taehyung’s silent, unwavering presence, your mother cleared her throat.
“Taehyung, you’ve been here for days” she said gently. “Why don’t you go home tonight? Get some proper rest.”
He didn’t turn to her immediately. He looked at you first with a slow, searching sweep of his eyes over your face like he wanted to make sure you were hearing this. Only then did he speak.
“I don’t need to go home” he said simply.
Your mother blinked. “But you’ve barely had any sleep. And your family must be worried-”
“They’re not” he cut in, still calm but with an undertone that made the air shift. “There’s nothing to worry about there.”
The way he said it, too flat, too absolute made your father look up from the hospital couch where he’d been reading.
“Well” your dad said, trying to sound casual but firm, “regardless, you should take care of yourself too. You’ve helped enough. We’re really grateful but you should get back to your routine. Your classes, your own life-”
Taehyung finally looked at him. And for a moment, it felt like the entire room stilled.
“I’m staying, Uncle” he said. It was not aggressive. Not loud. Unmoving. Like a wall had been placed in the center of the room.
Your father’s brows furrowed in confusion. “We’re not telling you to disappear. Just go home for one night. We’re here with her.”
Taehyung’s jaw flexed.
“I’m here” he replied quietly. “That’s enough.”
There was something in his tone that made both your parents pause. A subtle flicker of unease passed between them. Because suddenly, the balance of the room felt wrong. Like Taehyung wasn’t just a concerned friend sitting by your bedside but someone staking a claim without permission. Someone who didn’t recognize boundaries. Someone who wasn’t planning to leave.
Your mother folded her arms. Your father leaned back slowly. And their eyes, which had once held nothing but gratitude toward him, now carried the first hints of discomfort. A quiet, nagging sense that something here didn’t quite add up.
Taehyung exhales, long and shaky and something in him softens. As if he suddenly remembers how he’s supposed to act. He looks down at his hands then back up with a small, apologetic smile. The kind that disarms people before they realize he’s doing it.
“I’m sorry” he says, voice gentler, almost fragile. “I didn’t mean to sound….disrespectful. I swear I didn’t.”

Your mother’s shoulders ease a little. Your father straightens but doesn’t speak.
Taehyung takes one small step back like he’s giving space and he’s correcting himself.
“I just-” His voice cracks slightly. “Last night scared me. I didn’t know if she’d….” He swallows, lowering his gaze. “I’ve never seen something like that before. I guess I’m still shaken by it.”
Your mother’s expression softens instantly. He’s good. Dangerously good.
Taehyung runs a hand through his hair, sighs and gives a small, self-conscious laugh. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I was just worried.”
Your father exchanges a look with your mother, hesitation giving way to sympathy. Just like that.
When Taehyung looks up again, his eyes are glossy with exhaustion. Red-rimmed. Human. And he plays it perfectly.
“Honestly, Uncle… Auntie…” His voice drops to something vulnerable, something painfully earnest. “I wasn’t trying to intrude. I just didn’t want her to wake up alone. I thought it’d be scary to open her eyes and not see anyone. That’s all.”
Your mother’s face softens completely. She even places a hand on her chest, touched. “Oh sweetheart” she murmurs. “That’s very kind of you.”
Your father, who had bristled moments earlier, exhales slowly. He nods, the tension draining from his posture.
“I understand” he admits. “Thank you. For bringing her here. For staying.”
Taehyung smiles small, humble, relieved and bows his head slightly. “It was the right thing to do.”
Your mother touches his arm. “But truly, you need rest. Go home, clean up, eat something warm. You’ve done enough.”
Taehyung laughs lightly in a self-deprecating way. “I’m okay, Auntie. Really. I can go to class later but I didn’t want to leave without knowing she would wake up. Besides, I know that Uncle has to go to work and I didn’t want you to be here alone, Aunty.”
Your father gives him a grateful smile. “That’s admirable, son.”
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You’re propped up on two pillows, still feeling as though your skull has been stuffed with wet cotton. Your parents are going through the discharge checklist the nurse left on the bedside table when a knock sounds on the door.
A man pokes his head inside. Instantly, something about him feels wrong. He smiles too widely. His eyes flick across the room in quick darting motions, assessing, calculating. Even from your bed you can tell he’s the kind of man who thrives on paperwork that ruins people’s days.
He steps in fully. Slick hair. Shiny shoes. A file clutched too tightly under an armpit damp with sweat. And a cheap, too-strong cologne that hits your nose like a chemical weapon.
“Good morning, good morning!” he chirps, voice sugar-dipped but oily underneath. “I’m from FirstCare Life Insurance, here to discuss the formalities for Miss Y/N’s discharge. How are we feeling today, young lady?”
Your mother instantly steps closer to your bed, protective instinct flaring. “We’re doing alright” she says politely. “Please, come in.”
He grins, showing a row of small, yellowish teeth. “So glad to hear, ma’am. So glad. Recovery is such a blessing, isn’t it?” His voice drips with syrupy false concern. “And what a relief that your family has insurance! These big hospitals, oh, the bills can get so terrifying, you know?” He laughs a thin, dry laugh that makes the hairs on your arms rise.
Your father nods stiffly. He already looks annoyed, he hates people who oversell.
The man opens his file with a flourish, papers crackling. “So! We had a quick review of the charges so far” His eyes flick toward you, then your parents, then back to the file. “And before we go ahead with the claim, I just wanted to clarify a few small details.”
Your mother tenses. “Details?”
“Oh, nothing major” he says, smiling too fast. “Just routine. Very routine. I’m sure it’ll all go smoothly.”
He says “smoothly” in a way that guarantees it won’t. He pulls out a printed sheet and taps it with a pen. Your father leans in. You feel a strange sense of dread settle low in your stomach.
The agent clears his throat, theatrically.
“So, according to your files…. there seems to be a slight discrepancy regarding the accident report.”
He says the word 'discrepancy’ with too much pleasure.
Your mother frowns. “What discrepancy?”
He shakes his head sympathetically, placing a hand on his chest - a gesture so fake it almost squeaks.
“It looks like the insurance company is having a little difficulty processing the claim as it currently stands. The circumstances of the accident….” he leans forward conspiratorially, lowering his voice though there’s no one else in the room “...don’t exactly match the terms of your policy.”
Your father’s expression darkens. “What does that mean?”
The man gives a sorry smile, a practiced one, one he’s probably used on thousands of stressed families.
“It means…” He flips the paper and shows them a massive sum - your growing bill. “your insurance might not be able to cover the full amount. Possibly not at all.”
Your mother’s hand flies to her mouth. Your father stiffens beside her.
And in that moment, as the oily man pretends to be sad for you while delivering devastating news, you see a small shift in the corner of the room.
Taehyung, sitting quietly on the visitor’s couch, slowly lifts his head. His eyes sharpen.
The insurance agent finishes his explanation with a slick smile, flipping his tablet shut.
“I’m afraid your policy doesn’t cover this type of accident under the stated circumstances” he says in a syrupy, apologetic tone that feels memorized. “But don’t stress. We might be able to push it through with some, hm, additional processing support.”
Your mother is already paling. Your father stiffens. “Processing support?” he asks slowly.
The agent shrugs with practiced helplessness. “Administrative fees. Priority review fees. You know how these things go.” His smile sharpens. “It won’t be cheap.”
Your mother grips the side of your bed. Your father’s voice goes tight. “How much?”
The man waves his hand vaguely. “Hard to say yet. Could be several thousand. Maybe more. Depends on what the insurer decides.”
Your mother whispers, “Oh God”. Your father clenches his jaw.
“And of course,” the agent continues, “the remaining hospital costs will need to be settled before discharge. But don’t panic!” He chuckles. “We can talk about partial payments once the paperwork comes through.”
You feel sick. Your parents look like someone just pulled the floor out from under them.
The agent shuts his tablet and gives you a bright, false smile. “You get some rest, alright? I’ll check in later.”
He steps out, closing the door with a soft click. Silence swallows the room.
Then your mother sinks into the chair, pressing both hands over her mouth. Your father rubs his forehead, pacing a short, frustrated line near the window.
“Why now?” he mutters. “Why deny it now? We’ve paid premiums for years. They can’t do this.”
Your mother’s voice is thin, fraying. “We’ll figure something out. We always do. Loans, maybe a payment plan.” She looks at you, her eyes already shining. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. We’ll manage.”
But you do worry. You always do. Your parents are spiraling, your mother whispering half formed plans, your father scrolling through his phone like he’s trying to outrun reality.
And through the haze of medication, you feel your heartbeat spike. Taehyung rises from the chair in the corner. His expression unreadable, eyes steady in a way that cuts through your fog.
Your parents don’t even notice him, they’re too absorbed in panic.
You watch in uneasy silence as he walks toward the door. He pauses with his hand on the handle. Looks over his shoulder at you, only you with a calm, frightening certainty.
Your throat tightens.
He steps out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
That evening, just as the sky outside the window deepens into a muted violet, the door opens again.
The insurance agent slips inside. Gone is the oily confidence. Gone is the rehearsed smile.
He looks wrung out. His shirt is damp along the collar, his hands trembling where he clutches his tablet and his eyes avoid every corner of the room except the floor.
Your parents tense immediately.
“Ah- good evening,” he stammers, voice cracking in the middle. “I, I wanted to clarify something from earlier.”
Your father straightens. “Yes?”
The agent swallows. Hard. “I, um, misread the file. Completely my fault. Very embarrassing. The- the claim is, actually, uh, approved. Fully. Everything. Covered in full.”
Your mother gasps, a hand flying to her mouth. Your father blinks, stunned. “Covered?”
“Yes” the agent babbles.
“Completely. No fees, no deductions…. no delays. It’ll all be handled on priority. I’m really, truly sorry for the, the misunderstanding.”
He bows slightly too low for someone who works in corporate insurance and wipes his brow with a shaking hand. Your parents are confused but relief softens their posture immediately, exhaustion finally catching up to them.
“Oh thank god” your mother exhales, sinking into her chair in relief.
Your father nods, tired but grateful. “We appreciate the correction.”
But something feels off.
You notice the way the agent’s eyes flick just once, quick as a heartbeat toward the corner of the room. Toward Taehyung. Standing there silently, hands in his pockets, posture deceptively relaxed.
A single nod passes between them.
Your stomach drops.
Your father notices it too.
His eyes sharpen, following the silent exchange. A crease forms between his brows - the look of a man who just felt the ground shift under his feet.
The agent clears his throat again, eager to leave. “Right, well, I’ll process the final paperwork. Truly sorry again.”
He slips out of the room so quickly he might as well be fleeing.
Silence follows him.
Your father’s gaze drifts slowly toward Taehyung.
And then,
The hospital TV mounted on the wall flickers as the channel changes to a breaking news segment. A well-dressed anchor announces: “Minister Kim is expected to address the media tonight regarding-”
The camera cuts to a polished man stepping up to a podium, flanked by security.
You don’t even need to hear the name. The jawline. The eyes. The posture. The resemblance is unmissable.
Your father goes completely still.
The color drains from his face so fast it’s as if someone pulled the plug on his blood supply. His mouth parts. His eyes widen in dawning horror. Because now he understands.
Your “friend.” The boy in this room. The boy who brought you to the hospital. The boy who followed the insurance agent out.
He isn’t just anyone.
He’s Kim Taehyung, son of that man.
And your father finally realizes what kind of shadow has fallen over his daughter’s hospital bed.