Blue Rose on. Writing mode engaged.

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San's POV

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Credit where credit was due, this writing thing was harder than I even imagined. How Wooyoung did it multiple times a week, I would never understand. Or how he kept his focus long enough to do it. Every time it felt like I would make any kind of progress my attention would wander off to something else, and then I would get mad at myself for losing concentration. And so the cycle would repeat all over again.

SecretARMY348 was my online alias, only meant as a way to skim through stories and interact with other people a lot like me. It was never once supposed to be a writing account. But I wanted to put myself in Wooyoung's shoes for the day. See why he liked his fanfictions so much. But also to blow off some steam my own self. There were still things I wouldn't tell my friends. Or my therapist. And Wooyoung always had a saying; "Writing through someone else's eyes is easier than telling it through your own."

Jungkook had it all. A group of friends that loved him dearly. Two parents who treasured him. A life set to be a success. But then he went and ruined it, especially after he discovered Jimin wrote fanfictions.

It actually started when Seokjin left them. Apparently, he'd held their friend group together, and without him, they couldn't function as a big unit. So they split. Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon went one way, being older anyway. Taehyung and Jimin stuck together as always. And Jungkook was left to his own devices. But of course he couldn't take that lying down. Jimin had always been sensitive and easy to toss around, so Jungkook made it his personal mission to make Jimin's life a living hell.

It started off simple. Little jabs at his hobbies, including his writing. Posting notes on his locker. Taking his belongings and playing a sick game of keep away with some of their classmates. And, since Jimin wouldn't hurt a fly if you paid him to, he just silently accepted the treatment while slowly breaking inside and wondering what he could have done to deserve it. Eventually, Jungkook wore him down to the point he started to believe all the things directed at him. When in reality Jungkook only did it to draw attention away from his own "weirdness" as he would call it. Jimin was a wonderful soul who didn't deserve the treatment thrust upon him. Not one bit.

The final straw came when Jungkook read his stories out loud to a packed cafeteria. Their peers saw it as a wonderfully goofy experience, laughing at his expense without realizing they were breaking him inside little by little until there was nothing left. And Jungkook was left to figure out how to salvage the pieces...

I paused, sinking back against my pillows and watching the ceiling spin circles above me. How was this supposed to make me feel better? All it did was remind me of all the horrible things I'd done. It reminded me of why I went to therapy. It reminded me of why I didn't deserve the two friends I had and I definitely didn't deserve Wooyoung. I sighed, backing out of that document and firing up another. I hadn't given up on this endeavor. There was still many things I wanted to work through. And feelings I had to sort through.

Jungkook felt alone. Not because he physically was. And not because there was no one around him. He had a couple close friends. Two parents that lived under the same roof. By all accounts Jungkook should have been happy. Content with life.

But he wasn't.

His parents fought behind closed doors. They never left scars on each other. Barely raised their voices. But to him they might as well have been shouting for how it felt. Tiny jabs at each other. His mother retreating to her room and his father fleeing the house, never knowing if he was coming home or not. Jungkook also used to have an abundance of friends. A close knit group. But then Seokjin left and their group split, leaving him behind. He stuck with Namjoon and Hoseok just to have someone, but he dearly missed the days when it was all seven of them. Their group against the world. His big brothers always taking care of him...

Once again I stopped, feeling my heart sink all over. No matter what spin I put on this, it was a reminder of things I could no longer have. Finally I put my phone aside, deciding enough was enough for the day. I changed from my pajamas and robe into jeans and a t-shirt. I threw my thick coat over that next, stuffing my feet into boots. As I left the house, I pulled a hat low over my head. Maybe some fresh air would do me better than anything anyway.

I walked along at a leisurely pace, hearing the very sparse snow crunch beneth my boots. I walked passed places all too familiar to me. The park by my house where we spent a lot of our summers. Hongjoong's house, though it appeared dark today, like no one was home. Jongho's house two blocks away yet, and my stomach heaved when I caught sight of him in his window, hunched over something on his desk. I hurried passed his house after that, not wanting to be caught being so vulnerable. Our neighborhood also housed an ice skating rink we used to frequent, but I hadn't been back in over a year. These guys made up so many of my memories. They were everywhere even without actually being here.

I loved Mingi and Yunho. I truly did. But I also desperately missed what came before it was just the three of us. I missed Hongjoong and Seonghwa hyung. Yeosang and Wooyoung. Jongho. I missed when it was the eight of us against the world and we felt unstoppable. I missed the days where everything didn't feel like it was slowly crumbling away into nothingness. I missed my friends. My brothers.

"Stop it," I scolded myself, balling my hands at my sides. "You have no right to miss what YOU destroyed. It's your own fault things are the way they are." I paused in front of my house, having completed my walk through the neighborhood. Bile climbed my throat. Maybe I didn't have a right to miss it. But I did. So much.

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Wooyoung's POV

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I still wasn't entirely sure how I felt about Yeosang and San's fight, even though Yeosang had done it on my behalf (honestly that might just have made it worse). My mixed emotions only heightened when they revealed San had been suspended for a few weeks. Probably because he'd been the first one to deliver a punch. Yeossng talked a big game, but wouldn't actually do anything. Though the only thing he really had to show for it was a fat lip.

Since today was Friday, mom thought it would be nice to pack a lunch for me, which I suppose I was thankful for. It contained rice and seared beef, and a little cookie we'd made together as a treat, but that was about it. And as with every school lunch period, I spent half of it picking at my lunch anyway. If I didn't have a point to prove, I probably would have ended up in the library long ago. Away from the prying eyes. Away from the whispers that at one point had been directed at me. The only bright spot was Jongho, who'd taken to sitting with us again, albeit quietly.

"Wooyoung?" I blinked as someone waved their hand in front of my face. "Yunho is coming over," Yeosang continued in a low tone. I sighed quietly. Even when they were attempting to be nice, my automatic response to them was to get as far away as possible. They'd made my life hell. But as I twisted to face him, Yunho looked anything but threatening. White uniform shirt tucked into his black slacks, with his vest neatly buttoned. Glasses perched on his nose. He clutched something in his hands. "What do you want?" Yeosang asked, lobbing the question loudly at the approaching boy. Yunho stopped short.

"I have something," he said, jiggling the little package. "It's a present for Wooyoung." At that my eyebrows shot up, but then Yunho basically threw the package onto the table and took off. I studied it, frowning at the familiar wrapping paper. Blue with snowmen. Where had I seen this before?

"They're being awfully nice all of a sudden," Jongho piped up. Yeosang nodded along, though I remained silent, my mixed emotions going through a deep fryer as I tried to process everything. "Wooyoung hyung... I'd just be careful okay?" Jongho advised gently. "I don't know what they have planned, but I don't like it. They seem to know you're...very forgiving."

"I know," I snapped, and that instantly shut Jongho up. He sagged back in his seat, eyes widening. "Damn it I know that Jongho. I'm sensitive; not dumb." I snatched my bento box off the table as well as the package and marched out of the cafeteria, ignoring Yeosang's cries of protest. I swung by my locker and threw the present in, slamming the door. I was so fucking sick of everyone treating me like I was made of glass. I could handle my own self damn it.

Rather than retreat to the library like I thought I might, I hid out in the hallway leading to the art rooms, wedged between a row of lockers and an unused closet. I drew my knees up and put my forehead on them, wrapping my arms around them at the same time. I didn't know what to do. About San and Yunho and Mingi. About Yeosang and Jongho. About my writing. About wattpad. About...anything. I was so sick of running and hiding. But at the same time I was sick of fighting. I just wanted to do what I loved without having to worry about it. I wanted my close knit group of friends back. The ones who could rule the world and often pretended they did.

I wanted so bad, more than anything, to rewind time and pretend everything didn't happen. Go back to a year ago when everything was just fine and it didn't feel like my life was falling apart without a way to catch it all. I wanted Hongjoong and Seonghwa hyung back to keep us together again without fear it would crumble. I wanted so many things I could no longer have, and some days it tore me up inside. I wanted my happiness back.

"Wooyoung?" I glanced up to Yeosang, sighing quietly as he sat opposite me, mimicking my pose. "We didn't mean to offend you," he began. "I hope you don't think we're trying to hurt you. We just worry about you. Jongho and I both." I closed my eyes and took a few deep breath, reminding myself they were just being caring and weren't intentionally treating me like I was made of glass. "Are you doing okay?" Yeosang fired off next. I clicked my head to the side. "So much has happened in a short amount of time. How are you handling it?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" I countered. Yeosang inclined his head. "Yeah, this all has been overwhelming, but it's something I can still handle. I'm not fragile Yeosang. I can handle myself."

"I never said you couldn't," he argued back. "On the contrary you're one of the strongest people I know. But even strong people have their limits Woo. You're strong but not indestructible. I just want to make sure I'm not going to be losing you any time soon." At that I deflated. One of the many, many reasons I could never stay mad at him, no matter how petty the reason.

"My life isn't great but it's far from the worst it could be," I assured him. "I'm not keen to end it any time soon." Yeosang huffed out a breath, his shoulders sagging. Then he reached out and parted my shaggy hair, pecking my forehead.

"Thank God for that," he said. "But I'll always worry about you, I hope you realize that. It's what best friends do." I laughed lowly at that, watching him stand and then accepting when he offered his hand to haul me to my feet too. "Let's go back to the cafeteria," Yeosang added, slinging an arm over my shoulders. "Jongho was worried too. He'll be happy to see you're alright."

"Thank you." I stopped him dead in his tracks at that. He turned to me, a quizzical look on his face. "Thank you for worrying about me. And taking care of me. And just for being my friend." A soft smile was shot my way.

"Of course Woo," he replied. "There's nobody else I'd rather have as my best friend." And I believed him when he said it. Honestly though thank you was only half of what I wanted to tell him. This boy had saved me more times than I'd ever admit to him.

...

Holy crap guess who didn't die after all.