Gonna get a small jump start here so we don't repeat last time. My writing playlist is on, so hopefully this helps.

Double update??? What???? It's like I can actually accomplish something if I take the time to do it.

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Wooyoung's POV

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My days became a blur of the same mundane activities. Wake up. Slog through seven hours of school. Run home as soon as the final bell rang. Hide in my room from everyone and everything, only emerging to use the bathroom but nothing else. My clothes, which had admittedly began to get a little snug, suddenly drowned me in their size. A month of this same routine, day in and day out. A few days a week Yeosang would come and keep me company, mostly to gently remind me I wasn't totally alone. I appreciated him. I probably wouldn't even be alive if it wasn't for him.

I tore a path of destruction through my room the first week after the incident, and had yet to clear away most of the remnants. At one point my feelings became so overwhelming and suffocating I exploded, yelling at the top of my lungs as I overturned my bookshelf, flinging my precious books around my room. I ravaged my notebooks, tearing up and tossing around half finished pieces and the first traces of ideas. I'd been sick of looking at them. Like eyes on my skin. Like the laughter in my ears every time I looked at them. I tore the lights off my walls, breaking a few bulbs in the process but also not caring. The only things I'd left intact were my albums and my posters. Even in the heat of the moment, I couldn't bear the thought of losing them.

"Wooyoung?" I peeked up as mom cracked the door open. She wrinkled her nose taking in the devastation, but otherwise didn't comment on it. "Someone is here to see you sweetie," mom continued. "Why don't you get dressed and come down and see them." And just like that she was gone, leaving me to stew in my own confusion. I heaved a sigh, rising and throwing on the first pair of jeans my fingers came in contact with. I reached for a sweater off the floor next. When I lifted it above my head to put it on, I paused, bringing it down to eye level. Annoyingly, I felt tears pooling at the corners of my eyes. My BTS sweater. I hadn't worn it since the incident. I didn't have the heart. I hadn't worn any of my fandom clothing, only dressing in plain shirts and pants. Like I could scrub myself clean of all my weirdness if I didn't wear it. Like not thinking about it would fix me. Make me normal. Make me belong. I threw it down, chosing a red one over it. I pulled it over my head, and when I popped out my eyes roamed the shelf of albums.

"Dumb fanboy," I muttered to myself, turning away, closing my eyes. "No one likes a fanboy. No one likes you." Except SecretARMY378. We'd kept up a steady enough conversation the last month or so. He kept saying he was sorry for how things turned out, and he wished he was around to help make me feel a bit better about things.  I trudged down the stairs, taking my time, as with everything in my life these days. I emerged into the living room, blinking at the scene in front of me, my brain lagging a little trying to process what I was seeing. Mom and dad, sitting side by side on the couch, their hands folded together between them. Yeosang, leaning on the wall opposite them, his arms crossed over his chest. And...

"Hyung!" I blurted. Hongjoong smiled, rising from the chair he'd been occupying. He opened his arms, and without even thinking about it I ran, plowing into him as his arms circled around me. "I missed you," I whispered. His fingers found my hair, which he smoothed back. I hugged him tight, and when the one arm still wrapped around my waist squeezed, I broke down, sobs yanked from me. I shook as I cried, burying my face in his sweater.

"Shh," Hongjoong soothed. "It's okay Wooyoung." We stayed that way for what felt like hours. It seemed strange no one else interrupted, but maybe they knew better than me how much I'd needed this. How much I'd needed one of my hyungs here, saying everything was going to be okay. "Better now?" Hongjoong asked, pulling back as my cries quieted down to merely sniffles.

"Yes hyung," I croaked. He swiped his thumb under my eyes to rid the few remaining tears. "Sorry," I finally apologized. "That probably wasn't the welcome you were expecting. What are you doing in town anyway?"

"University let out for winter break," he explained. "Now come on. I believe we have some things to discuss." I nodded, turning towards the stairs. "Come on Yeosang, you too." I led the way upstairs, remembering last minute that my room was still a pig sty.

"Wait, I..." I began, but Hongjoong already pushed his way in. His eyes roamed the room, and I felt horribly exposed and vulnerable. "Sorry Hongjoong hyung," I apologized again, rushing around to try and tidy up. "A lot has been going on and I kind of took it out on my stuff. I should have a cleaned a long time ago. Sorry." As I rambled I picked things up or shoved them to the side. My progress stopped however, when a hand reached out and grabbed my wrist. I froze, turning to see Hongjoong's concerned face. He plucked the scrap of paper from my hands.

"Your story," he mumbled. His gaze met mine, but only for a few seconds until I couldn't stand it. I looked away, ashamed of...everything. Myself? "Alright Wooyoung, enough of that," Hongjoong continued, flicking the paper aside. "Sit and talk. What happened here? Your stories are the most precious things to you." He waved a hand to my bookshelf. "And your books."

"I... I know," I stuttered. "As I said, a lot has happened in the last month or so. It's been..." It was shit. I felt worthless most days. Without my books or my writing I felt incomplete, but trying to do either made my skin crawl and voices filled my ears and my lungs filled with cement. It was damn near crippling, and I wasn't sure if I was strong enough to handle it all for much longer.

"Talk, Wooyoung, please," Hongjoong said. He took a spot on my bed, patting the empty spaces beside him. "I know you're good with words. So please tell me what's happened since I've been gone." I sat beside him, wringing my hands on my lap. "Don't think I haven't noticed a lack of BTS on you," he added. "They're your favorite thing. So what's going on."

"It's a long story," I replied. I met his eyes briefly. He simply smiled, patting my knee.

"I have time," was all he said. I took a deep breath, deciding the best place to start.

...

San's POV

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My fingers hovered over the screen of my phone while I tried to decide if I should really be about to send the message I was going to. I steeled my nerves. I'd been reading through our conversation from these couple of months we'd kept in good contact, and a large part of me wanted it to go back to that. Could I pretend I didn't know? No. There was no erasing this from my mind.

Hey BangtanBadBoi. Things are...fine. Probably better than I'm allowed honestly. So much has happened recently. Or rather, it hasn't. Dad spent the last few nights at home with us. And they didn't fight! It's the first time in a long time that they've coexisted without it ending in yelling or tears.

This is gonna sound creepy as hell so bear with me. Remember how about a month ago you said you wanted to kiss me? What if I said the feeling was mutual? God this is cringy. I should just pretend I didn't even have that thought and move on. But I can't ignore the fact I like you. A lot.

And that wasn't a lie. I did like Wooyoung a lot. Way more than I should have at that point. I think I never really hated him. How could I? He was a sweetheart. I also knew I had absolutely no right to say these things to him. I was being selfish, trying to have it all. Ignoring the real him while talking up a storm to his online persona.

"San!" I whipped around as my door was thrown open, revealing Yunho, who looked...wild? His hair stuck up a bit, and he had this mad hatter style grin on his face. "Come on," Yunho said, covering the small distance from my doorway to my desk in a few footfalls. He yanked me from my chair.

"Woah Yunho!" I exclaimed as he began to drag me down the steps to the living room. "What's the rush? Is my house on fire?" I tried for a joke, but either he didn't hear me (unlikely) or he was ignoring me (probably). We both emerged a second later, and my gaze swept around the room. "Seonghwa hyung!" Suddenly I was filled with giddiness. And relief. Seonghwa hyung was here. My hyung was here. Seonghwa smiled, striding across the spacious room to meet us. I also noticed Jongho sitting on the couch, looking incredibly small despite the fact he could probably bench press me. And Mingi on the other end, thumbing through something on his phone.

"Hello San," Seonghwa greeted, wrapping me in a hug. "It's good to see you. But, that's not the only reason I'm here. It's also not the only reason Yunho, Mingi, and Jongho are here." And, very abruptly, he grabbed ahold of my ear and yanked, pulling me off balance.

"Ow, hyung!" I whined as he dragged me behind him. I scrambled to get my footing. I was sat on the couch beside Mingi. Yunho laughed at the antics, but his laughter quickly died when Seonghwa marched back up to him and did the exact same thing. Yunho was squished in beside me, and Jongho was removed, being placed in the recliner.

"Now," Seonghwa began, sitting on the coffee table and facing us. A fire danced in his expression, and I gulped. "I heard that you three have done something. Something despicable. And to our friend as well." I risked a glance at Jongho, who watched on silently, a solemn look on his face. "Care to explain yourselves?" He crossed his arms over his chest, fixing a glare on us.

"It was San's idea!" Mingi blurted. "He was the one who thought of reading the story out loud. He was the one who did it." I shot him look, but Seonghwa put a hand up, halting all conversation in its tracks.

"I'm well aware," he said calmly, and that terrified me even more. "Jongho has told me a great deal of things." Jongho shrunk back in his seat, and the weight of our actions slapped me full force in the face. Jongho told, but the way he watched us, wary and guarded, had me thinking he believed our wrath would turn on him next. That he would suddenly be a target.

"It was my idea," I admitted quietly. "A lot of things have been. But." And I looked passed Seonghwa for this one. "I would never turn my bad behavior towards you Jongho. You know that, right?" He chewed his lower lip and looked away. "Never," I vowed.

"But Wooyoung is perfectly acceptable?" Seonghwa's tone hardened at that. I shook my head. "Well, we can't turn back time, so how about you start talking now. What the hell were you thinking? And Wooyoung? He wouldn't hurt a fly if you asked him to. What did he do to you?"

"I wasn't thinking," I replied. "And he didn't do anything to me. In fact, he's done a surprising amount of good for me, even though I don't deserve it. He's... He's written some of my favorite stories, but he doesn't know that. He can't know that." I left out my recent conversation with him. Well, with BangtanBadBoi. Real life Wooyoung wouldn't even look at me.

"So the three of you have ganged up on him all year so far, and the only one who's taken his side is Yeosang?" Seonghwa asked, arching an eyebrow like he couldn't believe it. When put like that, we really did sound like despicable beings. "I've heard some stories, other than this big one. Notes on his locker. Little jabs at his hobbies. Calling him a freak." Seonghwa shook his head. "You in particular San, you loved listening to those groups with him. All the ones that make him "weird" and "a freak." Should I also mention how every time he wrote in his books all of you were damn near clamoring over yourselves to try and get a peek at it because he only ever shared select pieces with us." A pause while he seemed to collect his composure. "You'd better hope and pray this little stunt hasn't put him off from all the things he loves. Could you imagine Wooyoung without his books, his writing, or BTS?"

No. I couldn't. I didn't want to have to try and picture it. And I never once believed my stupid, moronic stunt would actually discourage him from doing those things. They were the core of him. Why would I truly want to change that.

A monster.

No good...

...

Guess I got bit by the writing bug. I'm on fire tonight.