The new dorm was pristine, filled with the promise of a fresh start. Yet to the three of them, it felt less like a new beginning and more like an echo of everything they had lost. The soft lighting, the simple furnishings—it all felt too bright, too clean. It was a space that didn’t belong to them, not yet. And as they settled in, each room they entered seemed to speak of something that no longer existed. It was as if the walls themselves held memories they weren’t ready to confront.

Jungkook’s Room:

Jungkook stood at the edge of his room, his hand resting against the windowpane, staring out into the city below. His room was minimalist—barely furnished, save for a bed and a desk with his notebook on top. But there was something in the design, something about the sleekness of it all that gnawed at him. It wasn’t the furniture or the colors, but something deeper, a presence he couldn’t quite explain.

He walked across the floor, fingers grazing over the smooth surface of his desk, but his gaze kept drifting to the corner of the room where the light seemed to hit in just the right way. The sunlight spilling over the desk reminded him of the soft, golden hues he had once shared with Saga.

The bracelet, the one that had been hers, his hand instinctively reached for it. The metal felt cold against his skin, as he caressed it on his own wrist like always something inside him stirred. A flicker of hope. Maybe she’ll come back, he thought, his heart swelling. Maybe there’s still a chance to fix things.

But his mind disagreed, sharp and clear. Nothing will ever be fixed. She’s gone. You’ve lost her. You lost all of her. The thoughts rushed at him, drowning out his heartbeat.

Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, his breath shallow. He could still feel her presence, faint, as if she were just out of reach. She left this for me. She left me a part of her, he thought desperately. That means something. It has to.

But no response came. No answers. Just silence.

As if to punish him, his phone buzzed on the desk. Jungkook didn’t even look at it, not ready to hear more words that wouldn’t change anything. He picked up the bracelet once more, running his thumb over it, and muttered, “Saga, I’m sorry… I just wanted to fix it all.”

Taehyung’s Room:

Across the hall, Taehyung sat on the edge of his bed, his eyes scanning the walls of his room. The color—this muted shade of blue—was everywhere. It wasn’t an aggressive blue, but a calming one, a soft, serene hue. Yet to Taehyung, it was like a tidal wave of memories crashing against him.

He ran his fingers over the paint, feeling its smoothness, but the touch didn’t calm him. Instead, it twisted something inside him. This was Rizin’s favorite color, he thought, his chest tightening. She used to tell me how it reminded her of the ocean. Calm, vast, like there was nothing to worry about.

But now, this color felt like a prison. It reminded him of everything he had lost with her—their quiet moments, their laughter, the way she’d looked at him when she was hurt. He could still see it so clearly. The look in her eyes when she’d walked away, when he’d made her insulted and distanced her away.

His heart began to race as his hand pressed against the wall, fingers curling into the paint as if trying to hold on to the memory of her, but with each second, it was slipping farther away. I was supposed to protect her. To be there for her, Taehyung thought bitterly. I should’ve fought harder for myself. I should’ve stayed. But I didn't.

His breath came faster now, his frustration spiraling out of control. She’s gone, Taehyung. Gone. And you have nothing left but this damned color that reminds you of how much you failed.

His anger surged, hot and relentless, but it was the color—the very thing that reminded him of her—that held him in place. He couldn't tear himself away. It both burned and soothed him in the same breath. The pain was consuming, but there was something about that shade of blue that kept him tethered, even as it destroyed him.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore,” he whispered to himself, his voice raw. “What if this is just… what I deserve?”

Jimin’s Room:

In Jimin’s room, the air felt thick, charged with an energy that he couldn’t escape. The room was cluttered, comfortable, just like his mind had always been. But today, it felt like the walls were closing in. His eyes kept darting to the corners, as if waiting for something.

A picture of Helina, he kept on the nightstand. It was from a time when things had still been simple, when they were happy. The photo showed her laughing at something, her eyes sparkling with warmth. But Jimin couldn’t bring himself to look at it. The memory was too painful, too real.

As he lay back on the bed, his mind wandered, and before he realized it, he was talking to her. “Helina, I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I never meant to hurt you. I swear I didn’t.”

And then, as if summoned by his voice, she appeared. There was no sound at first—just the shadow of her, standing by the door. His heart skipped a beat.

“Helina?” Jimin gasped, sitting up quickly.

Her figure was hazy, like a dream, but the words that left her lips cut through him like a blade. “You think you can apologize now? You think that after everything you did, after everything you said… that I’d just forgive you?”

Jimin’s chest tightened. No, no, I can’t do this. Not again.

“I remember everything, Jimin. I remember how you insulted me, how you pushed me away. How I trusted you, and you threw it all away.” Her voice broke, each word heavier than the last. “I can’t undo that. And neither can you.”

Jimin’s breath hitched. He reached out as if to touch her, but his hand went through her like she was made of air. His chest felt hollow. “Helina, please... I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it.”

He stood up quickly, but the moment he took a step toward her, she vanished—gone, like smoke in the wind.

“No!” Jimin shouted, his voice raw with emotion, but there was no one there. Only the empty space, the silence, the ghosts of his own making.

He dropped to his knees, his hands clutching at the sheets. “I failed you. I failed you all. And now it’s too late…”

The room felt colder now, emptier. The echoes of Helina’s words hung in the air, and Jimin couldn’t escape them. He could only feel the weight of his own guilt, the crushing realization that everything he had done had led him here.

They were all gone. And now, he was left with nothing but the broken pieces of what once was.

Each of them sat in their own solitude, wrestling with their memories, their guilt, and the overwhelming ache of loss. And in that silence, one thing remained clear—their journey toward redemption was not just about rebuilding their music or their image. It was about facing their darkest regrets, and somehow, finding the strength to move forward for the sake of their hyungs who still trusted and stayed with them.

But that night, as they lay in their beds, surrounded by the very things that reminded them of their pasts, it was clear: their battle was far from over. It has just started.

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See you guys in next chapter
Till then love u guys...
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