She looked at his face with fresh eyes, and it felt like the first time. 

Adorned with little freckles and dimples that etched into his cheeks even deeper than she thought was humanely possible, he was a work of art. 

As his smile grew slowly on his face, she watched the delicate pink of his tongue stroke his lips, and she wished that she wasn't such a coward and could move her lips to feel it too. His hair hung lazily like satin drapes above his eyes, and she wanted nothing more than to knot her fingers in it. From the hollow of his cheeks to the crinkles next to his eyes, she wanted to preserve this image of him like a polaroid. 

She never wanted to forget the face that she wished she had never met.

"Hana," his voice cooed softly, calling out to her. She was silent. 

He repeated himself, and the room grew dark around him, the soft furnishings slowly turning black. Like charcoal, everything felt hard and unpleasant to touch.

She panicked and reached out to hold him close, but within the blink of an eye, his body was gone, and she screamed into the emptiness around her. 

One by one, the soot-stained items began to smoke. Overwhelming heat burned at her skin and she couldn't breathe.

Clutching at her throat, she felt like she was suffocating.

The smoke billowed around her, attacking her lungs and debilitating her eyesight.

Her name was still being called out, and it boomed and echoed around her until she felt a pair of strong arms wrapping themselves around her, softly rocking.

"Hey, hey, just a nightmare," Jimin spoke softly into her hair, shushing her, holding her tightly. Her wet cheeks left a trail on his bare chest, but she refused to open her eyes. Instead, she sobbed harder and harder until her throat burned, just like it had in her dreams.

It had been a while since her last night terror. She had them for months on end at the beginning of the year, and eventually, it got so bad that Jimin just ended up sharing the bed with her. She found the company helped. On the nights that it didn't, it saved him running from one end of the house to the other. 

She clung onto Jimin's arms, scared to let go. Letting go meant admitting it was all in her head. 

As terrifying as it was, she would have taken all the fear in the world just to live through the sweetness that preceded it.

"Sorry," she sniffed, finally wiping the tears from her face and detaching from him. His silhouette was barely visible, but she could tell his eyes were puffy, sleep-deprived, and his hair was an endearing mess.

The digital clock that sat on her bedside table read 04:57, and she hated herself for waking him up.

"You're fine, squirt," he rubbed her back gently. "Same as before?"

He was referencing the dreams she used to have when they first got to Jukdo. They'd always be the same; her swimming around the tiny island until a riptide dragged her down. She'd drown and drown and drown but never die, just repeating the process until she met the ocean bed. Always there to greet her was Yoongi, a hole in the chest of his corpse and vacant stare.

"Yeah," she lied. 

Jimin walked to the window and closed it gently, convinced that the ocean noises would have been to blame for her wandering mind.

"You want me to stay, or?" He offered, really not minding. 

"No, no, it's fine," she smiled sheepishly, tucking her legs up to her chest. "We've got to be up in a few hours anyways."

They had an early start, heading for the mainland in the morning. It was a few days before the meeting, but after some deliberation, they decided it would be best to reacquaint themselves with the city before diving in headfirst.

Jimin doubled checked she was okay, only relenting when Hana insisted. 

She sat alone in the darkness for a little while, soothing her aching heart. The storm had calmed over the last few days. Still a little rowdy, Hana didn't mind the dull tones of the waves vibrating through the glass of her large windows. The moonlight reflected off the water's surface, so pure and brilliant that it rivalled the sun.

Everything reminded her of him, even the solar system - or perhaps it was especially the solar system. Pushing the thick duvet down her legs, Hana let the winter air chill her as she walked over to her dressing room.

Leaning against the wooden door frame, she yawned, flicking the light switch on and shutting her eyes tightly so that they could adjust to it. She moved instinctively to a cupboard that she kept permanently locked, even going so far as to install a key code on it.

With just her and Jimin on the island, Jukdo was a sanctuary, a safe haven, so she wasn't hiding things for the sake of keeping them safe. She was hiding them from herself for the sake of her sanity.

"Pretty sure I'm insane anyways," she spoke quietly to herself before laughing quietly. What was it they say? She thought. The first sign of madness is talking to yourself? 

Tapping in the code with the pads of her fingers, a small robotic beep pinged, letting her know she had access to her treasure. Untouched since they had arrived, two bags sat together on the floor. One was full of the relics Hana had swiped from Yoongi's room; her favourite shirt of his, a book that still had the corner marked for him to resume reading and his collection of novelty shaped lighters, just to name a few. 

The other bag only had a small bounty; a hoodie, a shirt and an ancient Nokia. Knowing that the clothes still held his scent, she angled her face away from the bag as she reached her arm into it. Boss Orange has been singed into her memory, but actually smelling it? She didn't want to comprehend that.

Finally, her fingers clasped the burner phone, and she pulled it to her chest tightly.

This is a bad idea, the voice in her head told her, but she ignored it. Pressing down on the power button, she knew that it would most likely be drained, having been sat untended to for the best part of a year. She had switched it off the night that Yoongi died and kept herself a safe distance from it ever since.

No luck, she headed silently down the corridor to her office and straight for the bottom drawer in her desk. It housed all the cables that weren't currently in use, but she was too scared to throw away just in case she needed them one day. It was a long shot, and she knew it, given how irregular old phone charging cables were, but she had to at least try.

14 cables later and she was victorious.  "Shit, shit, shit," she panicked, unsure of what to do with this knowledge. Yes, she could charge it up, but then what? Send him a 'u up?' text?  

The screen slowly began to illuminate again, and within a few minutes, it was switched back on in the palm of her hands. 

Vibrating violently, it was inundated with messages, eventually grinding to a halt when the inbox capacity of 50 was reached. Delete older messages to view new messages (22) flashed on the screen, and she let her mouth hang slack in surprise. She had anticipated maybe one or two messages. Not 72.

The voicemails intrigued her the most, though, 39 of them sitting pretty just dying to be played. Gingerly pressing down on the buttons until they clicked into action, Hana dialled her inbox and put the phone to her ear.

The soft hum of the dial tone already had her stomach wrecked.

"Hey," his voice sounded static through the phone. Hana's hand involuntarily covered her mouth as she gasped. She shouldn't have been shocked by the sound of his voice; it was exactly what she had been expecting. Yet somehow, she had been completely unprepared. 

A sharp sniff echoed through the receiver before he continued. It had been recorded the night of the Gala. "I-uh, fuck, I don't know what to do, Han."

His voice was tortured, and Hana could picture him sitting in his room, tear-soaked eyes trying to talk to her. It was so painful.

"Uh-obviously," he punctuated nearly every word with a sniff or a sharp breath. "Things aren't good. Tuh-tell me what I gotta do. I can't stay here, Han, I need to get out."

Hand still covering her mouth, Hana bit down on her fingers as she began to cry silently.

"You and me, we gotta go. We gotta leave this fucking city before it kills the both of us."

With each word, it felt like a razor was slowly slicing her skin open. It burned.  

"I'm so sorry. About Yoon- ah, fuck," he sniffed again. "About Yoongi, I'm so fucking sorry."

He sobbed now, an uncontrollable cry. "Jin's gone too."

There was a rustle as he attempted to wipe his face clear of tears, but failed miserably. There was just too many of them. "Call me as soon as you get this. I can't lose you too."

Hana had never loathed herself more. So consumed by her own grief, she had abandoned the one person who needed her most. 

"I love you."

Static lingered for a few seconds before a robotic voice began to speak, "To listen to your voicemail again, press one. To save it to your inbox and listen to the nex-"

Hana pressed 'two' automatically. Voicemail saved.

"Uh, I don't know if you got my last one," his voice was more stable now. "But I really need to see you, Hana. I need to know you're okay. It's killing me. I love you."

As the static began to drown out, she pressed two again.

Voicemail saved.

"Just-ah, just checkin' in," he was sniffing again. "Haven't heard from you still. Having a bit of a shit time..."

Once she reached the end, she pressed down on two and carried on.

"Hana, where the fuck are you..."

Voicemail saved.

"You're not the only one going through shit, okay?!.."

Voicemail saved.

"Sorry for getting angry at you last night..."

Voicemail saved.

"I know I should probably stop calling..."

Voicemail saved.

"Does it hurt you? It hurts me..."

Voicemail saved.

"So I think I'm being promoted..."

Voicemail saved.

"You'd hate the man I've become..."

Voicemail saved.

"Do you still think of me?"

Hana listened to each and every voicemail six times over before she gave it a rest. Even the phone itself was saturated from her salty tears. 

He'd spent the last year sending her updates, keeping her in the loop. Sometimes he'd cry a little, other times he seemed positive. 

The sun had begun to rise over the horizon, a soft pink sky radiating warmth into the office. Finally settled from the storm, clouds were stained peachy shades of orange, gliding past the window slowly. 

It made Hana feel at ease.

He had stopped saying that he loved her. The last three or four had just been casual updates, little "thinking of you" voice notes. She felt numb to this, unsure of what it meant for her. She didn't even know how she felt, not really, other than the immense guilt that was trapped in her stomach. 

Rubbing her cheeks with the backs of her hands, Hana stood and let out a harsh breath. Her nose was ruby red, and her eyes were swollen, but she felt okay. She felt relieved, in a way.

His last update had come two months ago. "You won't believe where I'm living," he had laughed. "I would tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

Happiness sounded so good on him. 

Clearing away the cables, Hana wondered what this all meant to him now. Who was she to him? Just a form of therapy to vent to? Or someone he actually wanted to tell about his days?

The thoughts would only cause her to spiral again, so she pushed them to the back of her mind and checked the time: 6:43. Her alarm had been set for 7, so she booted up her computer to get a head start on the day. Fans whirred, and the speakers let out incoherent robot gibberish as Hana scrolled through apps on her phone, waiting for it to load.

So used to tuning out the computer sounds, Hana didn't notice it at first.

It wasn't until she moved her leg to rest it on the desk that she realised.

The burner phone was ringing.

a/n: I've had the initial description written for ages and am scared i actually used it somewhere else so if i have... lets pretend i didn't lol x