October 30th, 2016:
"Y/N, let's sit you down," Yoona said, supporting my back as my legs were extremely shaky.
One of the managers opens the door to the van and Yoona sits me down. I was still trying to catch my breath. I felt like tired didn't even begin to describe how I felt. I was so out of it.
"Okay, we're getting you to a doctor," Yoona said, looking at my glazed face with the most seriousness I've ever seen on her.
Yoona drives me to the hospital, and I barely realise what was going on. I didn't even realise I was walking into the hospital in some quite short shorts with a lot of makeup on for the cameras. All the looks would have normally made me feel uncomfortable, but I was past caring about literally anything right now.
After the doctors took a look at me, they came to the conclusion I feel we all could have guessed: I was overly stressed, I needed to eat and sleep more, and maybe work a little less. They had given me an IV drip and I was back in Yoona's apartment without being allowed to do anything else.
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October 31st, 2016:
I fell asleep really fast but woke up once more just as fast. I went to take a shower and fell back asleep, only to wake up again. I scroll through my phone, reading an article about the growing movement of women coming forward to press charges against sexual aggressors and revealing their stories on a couple of forums with over 1000 members. I couldn't stop but think about what was going to happen in court. I felt that even if I couldn't win my case, then how could people with no fame or power having gone through similar experiences win? Korea, like most countries, was famous for not taking cases like these seriously. I was getting frustrated about all the pressure and lack of sleep.
"F*ck," I sigh, getting up from my mattress on the floor of the living room. I pick up my phone and call Timothée. I was angry, desperate, and in need of a chat without any thought of the group and my job. I felt I needed to talk about my feelings and have a frank chat with my boyfriend.
"Hi," I say quickly, almost breathless after he finally picked up on the fourth ring the second time, I called him.
"Hey," he picked up, sounding happy. I instantly felt bad. I needed to talk, but I just felt so bad. I was in between two minds. "Y/N?" he questions, his voice dipping.
"No, I'm sorry, it's fine," I say, hanging up. I throw my phone on the mattress and let out a loud groan, rubbing my face violently. I had a therapist to talk to. He was probably having a great time on set with all his co-stars. I had to stop bringing people down. He seemed so happy and frankly, a small part of me was jealous. So much for thinking that I was on the right path mentally. It seemed as long as my body wasn't healthy, neither could my mental health be. I could hear my phone ringing and decide to let it ring. I pick it back up and text him to at least try and get him to not worry him.
Y/N: Sorry, was a mistake
Y/N: Everything's all good
Timothée: Then why aren't you picking up?
YOU ARE READING
BTS Eighth Member | The Life: Year 2016
FanfictionThis is year 2016 of my slow-burn, detailed story of Y/N as the eighth member of BTS. The story is as realistic as possible which means it sticks to dates as well as social and idol "norms". This is not snapshots or short imagines, it does have a t...
