𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫. | BTS |

chapter 79 ~ 𝒓𝒖𝒏 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚

CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE, MENTIONS OF KNIVES, BLOOD, ANGST, & FLUFF

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     Sleep refused to let me rest, and I lie staring up at my ceiling as the moonlight danced across the textured surface like twinkling lights against their backdrop. My hands subconsciously fisted my bedsheets with each thought that stormed through my head, causing my throat to seize up completely until I felt as though I would suffocate myself in my own bed. All I could think to myself was that I was a burden, such a burden that I was risking the safety of my partners for my own sanity. And, how selfish that was of me. 

     A sigh of irritation slipped past my swollen lips as I turned and buried my face against my cool pillow, tucking my hands beneath it for warmth and forcing my eyes shut tight. If I forced myself to sleep, then maybe the welcoming darkness would soon lull me unconscious, and all my thoughts would finally subside. But, it seemed the more I tried, the more awake I grew. My eyes flicked wide as I stared out into the dark, listening to the breeze from outside blow up against the tiles of the roof above me.

     What if the others secretly resented my presence? Everything that had happened since my arrival was purely my fault: Yura, being forced to move to Seoul earlier than planned, Rachel, and not to mention the draining amount of stress that I was sure was forcing everyone into the ground. With every apology, I was met with the same phrase: "It's okay." "It's not your fault." But, it was. Entirely. The others swore they forgave me, but I couldn't help but question if they truly did. Deep down, they could've very well been cursing my soul to hell for all the shit I'd put them through in the past near eight months, and I would have joined along. I didn't deserve them, and they would be so much better off without me setting fire to the tracks they set ahead for themselves.

     What's stopping you from leaving? I asked myself. I remembered the same question drilling me in my thoughts several months ago as I stared up at a patient Taehyung, watching the brunet's eyes swim with tiny golden flecks as he awaited my reply. The thought of leaving had served as no peace of mind to me then, but now, as I sat curled up beneath my covers in the dead of night, images of fleeing down the street to the airport and booking the next flight to America brought a painful smile to my face. Painful. After everything I'd found in my escape with Yoongi, Taehyung, Jungkook, Jimin, and now Seokjin, I had so much to give up, and so little to return to.

     There were only two reasons that justified me staying with the others as long as I did. I'd needed an escape from Yura, and in the process of looking for a place of my own, I had let three men charm me into staying with them. I'd fallen for them, and I'd fallen hard. Quietly, I bashed myself as my heart began to beat quicker in my chest. I was in love with every single one of them and was starting to form some long-distant attachment to Seokjin the more I hung around the eldest. It felt toxic to have feelings for the men whose lives I continued to ruin, and with the thought followed a sickening feeling of frigid guilt down the center of my stomach. If I stayed there any longer, more things were bound to go wrong, and I would simply be putting everyone in harm's way.

     But, now my safety was back on the line once again, no thanks to Rachel. If what she said were true, then Yura could show up any minute with the intent of dragging me back down to Busan to our old apartment. I would be trapped again, and so soon after I believed I'd completely escaped his abusive grasp. 

     I bit down hard on my bottom lip to bottle in my tears, my emotions sparking with a mix of panic, fear, dread, and guilt. There was only one way for me to ensure both my safety as well as the others, and no matter how much I hated the idea, in the back of my head it was oddly comforting. I could escape everything and head home to a place so familiar that everything in my head would reset to my old life. I could pretend as if the past three years in Korea didn't exist.