I have finally created the writing time playlist I always say I'm going to make. But am I listening to it? Absolutely not lol.

I totally just wrote the whole next chapter in one sitting. I was a writing machine.

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San's POV

...

"You look like shit." I glared as Mingi plopped his books onto the table across from me. His hands flew up defensively. "Just stating the obvious my friend. Did you even sleep last night?" I turned back to the notebook in front of me, the sparkly blue cover undeniably not mine. I had yet to look through it, but Friday was only two days away. I could hold out that long. It would be worth it. More than worth it.

No good. You're no good for anyone.

I'd gotten better at ignoring that stupid voice at the back of my head telling me this was a bad idea. I'd gotten decent at pushing back the feeling of guilt. But that phrase... It shook me like no other. Because I knew it was true. Because it was the one phrase I couldn't deny. I felt tears welling, angrily blinking them away as they attempted to form. Ignore that thought. Ignore that voice.

If BangtanBadBoi ever met you, he would hate you. He would hate who you've become. He wouldn't like you at all, because you're no good for him. He deserves more love than you could ever hope to give him.

"San?" Someone snapped their fingers under my nose, causing me to jerk. Yunho. So far, he hadn't said a word to me today. He took a place next to me at the table, immediately opening his book and thumbing through it. I turned to face him slightly. Worry faced me back. Concern. Even Mingi dropped his joking demeanor and was gazing at me with an expression I couldn't quite place. "What's gotten into you lately?" Yunho asked. "You look like someone's stabbing a knife into your side."

"I..." I trailed off, unsure what to even do in this situation. I could come clean. About everything. About mom and dad's struggles to stay together. About the turmoil I felt every time Wooyoung was even vaguely mentioned these days. About Wattpad, my love of BTS stories, and BangtanBadBoi himself. And for two seconds, looking at their open and honest faces, I debated giving in. But then I remembered I couldn't. I was the solid foundation. If I crumbled, who would hold us up? "Nothing," I said at last, turning away. "Just stressed about tests."

"Jesus San," Yunho swore quietly. "Do you think I believe that?" No. I didn't. I knew Yunho would see right through my feeble excuse. But it was still the answer I would stick with. "What's really going on?" He kept at it. "What are you hiding from us?" Each question was like a little pinch to my sanity, slowly chipping away at it.

"Forget it," Mingi muttered. "He's not spilling." It wasn't like I wanted to keep secrets from them. But I was known as the tough one. The one who didn't cry or show emotion easily. I was the thing keeping us together now. But... Some days I didn't want to be. I wanted Seonghwa hyung and Hongjoong hyung back. I wanted them to help glue us together again, like old times.

We lapsed into silence after that , broken by the sounds of Mingi mumbling to himself. I heaved a sigh, folding my arms over the notebook and resting my head on them. I closed my eyes, listening to the quiet noises around me.

"You're absolutely sure you haven't seen it?" I peeked up at a familiar voice not far away. Wooyoung. He stood at the desk with the librarian, Mrs. Lim, wringing his hands in front of him. "It has a blue cover. With sparkles."

"Wooyoung sweetie." I strained to hear what she had to say. "You know for a fact I would have let you know if I'd found it in here. But I've looked every day all week and haven't seen anything." Wooyoung's shoulders dropped and he scurried off. I laughed lowly even if my stomach felt like it was trying to twist itself in knots.

"Ever wonder how Hongjoong or Seonghwa hyung are doing?" Yunho blurted. Mingi and I both swung our gazes to him. "What?" he asked with a small shrug. "Isn't it a bit strange that we haven't heard from either of them. What, they go to university and suddenly can't be bothered with any of us?"

"They're busy!" Mingi said harshly, rising. His chair slid back and slammed into the table behind him. I winced. "Don't you dare say they don't care about us! They do! They have to! They were our friends for so long..." Abruptly Mingi halted, gathering his books back up and practically running out of the library. Yunho and I sat there, stunned. I turned to Yunho at last, noticing his jaw ajar. He shook his head.

"I didn't..." He seemed at a loss. He softly closed his book. "You know I didn't mean it like that." His gaze met mine, and uncertainty shone through. But the truth of the matter was I didn't know. It was weird that we hadn't heard from them since this summer. It was strange they hadn't come back to see us, not even once. And I didn't know what to think about it all.

"I know," I answered him at last. "Just... We'll explain that to him when he's calmed down." Hesitantly, Yunho nodded, going back to his book. Now with a red cover instead of green. I lifted my arms, looking at the cover of the notebook under me. What secrets did this notebook hold anyway? Obviously this meant a great deal to him if he was hell-bent on getting it back. But what could he be writing about that was that important? My thoughts were interrupted by the bell, however, signalling the start of classes.

"See you," I mumbled to Yunho as we split up. I walked to my class, shoulders back and head high, oozing a confidence I didn't even know I possessed. I sat at my desk, dropping my bag at my feet. I slouched in my seat, pulling my phone out and skimming through my notifications

Ding!

I flushed and silenced my phone quickly, but checked that out after. Wattpad again. My heartbeat sped up when it was another personal message. BangtanBadBoi. I clicked his message.

This sounds so dumb because we don't know each other but... I miss you. Why haven't you responded to me? Did I scare you off?

"No," I whispered, feeling a lump form in my throat. How could he think that?

You're no good for him. You're a monster. A real life monster.

I stuffed my phone back in my pocket, his message still on display but no reply.

...

Wooyoung's POV

...

I sat at the kitchen table, my laptop in front of me, doing mock exams for university credits in my pajama pants and oversized sweater. But what I really wanted to be doing was writing. I felt the itch I always had when a new idea was forming. But I also knew I had to focus. Besides, thinking of Wattpad made me think of SecretARMY378, and that was one thing I didn't want to think of.

"A little can't hurt, right?" I thought to myself aloud, switching over from mocks to Wattpad. I checked my messages quick, my spirits sinking when there was still no response. I drummed my fingers on the table beside me, resting my cheek on my open palm, frowning thoughtfully. Had I actually scared him off? I hadn't meant to. Yeosang always told me I was painfully honest.

What would you do if you felt like the world was absolutely against you, even if you had no proof it was?

Jimin often asked himself that question, because, well, he did feel like the world was against him. Orphaned when he was a newborn and forced to house hop as foster families took him in. Jimin relied on no one but himself, because love felt so trivial. So fickle. Like it could slip right between hos fingers like water. Jimin didn't need anybody else in his life. He never had.

So why did Jung Hoseok, the new boy at his temporary school, drive him a new kind of crazy? Jimin didn't get it. He didn't need anybody in his life. No one needed him after all. Why would he commit to something permanent when everything in his life was temporary?

Yet... Hoseok left him breathless. Hoseok left his heart racing laps around his ribs. Hoseok could bring up Jimin's mood just by smiling. And Jimin was terrified of his physical reaction to all of this. He was terrified of even daring to get close to someone. He knew Hoseok would leave him too. They always did...

"Woah," I muttered when I finally caught the time. 1:06am. I'd spent the last almost four hours typing and retyping as my idea took shape. I scrubbed my face with my hands, blinking at the now too bright screen. I stifled a huge yawn, closing the laptop and slipping it under my arm. I padded quietly upstairs, mindful of mom and dad fast asleep in their room already. I shut my door quietly behind me, but rather than lay down in my bed, I sat at my desk. I opened the laptop again, praying to whatever god would listen to me right now that there was some kind of response.

New message from SecretARMY378.

For a second I swore my heart stopped. Did I want to look? Yes. Was I scared of his response? Absolutely. I sucked in a few deep breaths, mentally preparing for anything. I clicked on it.

Hey. Sorry. I promise I wasn't ignoring you. I just... Have a lot on my mind. There's something my friends and I have come up with... It was my idea actually. But I don't know how we're going to pull it off. And... I feel so guilty over it. It's not kind. It's not good. But we have to go through with it.

I frowned at that. This didn't sound like the boy who'd been talking to me for the last few weeks. Not at all. SecretARMY378 was kind and thoughtful and vulnerable. He wasn't a monster.

I kind of wish you were here with me, face to face. I feel like you would know exactly what to say in a situation like this. You would know what to tell me. You could talk me out of it maybe. I don't know...

I miss you... Even if I don't have a reason to. See you around.

My frown only deepened. Why did it seem like this was a goodbye message? But I shook those feelings aside, instead assessing the situation. He seemed so...out of it. Not at all like the boy I'd come to know. I worried my lower lip between my teeth, staring at the screen like the message coule magically change itself. But it didn't. And my feelings felt as conflicted as always.

"Stop it Woo," I chastised myself, closing the laptop and shaking my head harshly. "You're just delusional." I sighed, raking my fingers through my hair. "Quit pretending that this is going to turn into some fairytale ending all happy and shit. It's not. Not for you..." I flopped sideways on my bed, bringing one of my pillows to my chest, burying my face in the top. I'd long since cried out all my frustrations on this topic, and quite frankly I was annoyed it could get to me at all. I should've been immune. I should've been able to let it roll right off my shoulders without it halting me in my tracks.

This wasn't one of my stories. Things weren't happy in real life. They wouldn't end happy either. Real life was miserable. Unbearable. In real life things destroyed you without thinking twice about it. Situations prayed on your sanity until there was nothing left. How could I believe in a happily ever after if nothing in my life led me to believe I was deserving of one?

...

A little shorter than normal, but that's okay. I feel like that was a good place to leave it, rather than trying to extend it.