︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

a/n: very long chapter, haha

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

I reach for me, but I'm not there
I always wonder why I'm here
It's fine, it's okay
I'll die anyway

I guess I could say
I've learned to live this way
But it's still hard to find
Reasons to stay alive

-I'll die anyway- the girl in red-

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Minho POV:

I refused to go home early, cook, or do anything that reminded me of Hana this entire week. But no matter what I did, she kept drifting into my thoughts. It was frustrating and painful—especially when she spoke to me as if she didn't care, even though I still cared deeply for her. 

It felt like there was something more between us than just a "best friend" or "roommate" situation. There was something deeper, but I kept second-guessing myself. Maybe all the arguing and emotional turmoil had clouded my feelings, leaving me tangled in confusion.

I would come home late and avoid searching for Hana. I'd eat dinner alone and retreat to my room. Often, I'd see Doongie sitting by her door, meowing and waiting, but the door would remain closed.

Today was Saturday, my day off, so I decided to visit my parents since I hadn't seen them in over a month, and apparently, they missed me. I did too, so this would be perfect for a distraction.

I left around noon, after feeding my cats. I noticed Hana hadn't emerged from her room while I was in the living room. It was odd—relieving in one way, avoiding another awkward interaction, but confusing in another. Had she been intentionally avoiding me, or was she just lost in her own world, the same way I had been trying to be? 

A thought in the back of my mind asked: had our friendship been irrevocably damaged? Was this silence a sign of something deeper?

Arriving at my parents' house, the warmth and familiarity provided a temporary escape from my overactive mind. We spent the afternoon catching up, talking about everything from my father's fishing trips to my mother's new balcony garden. It couldn't fully distract me, but it helped just a little bit.

As evening fell and we gathered around the dinner table, the conversation flowed easily, but I found myself unable to fully engage. My parents noticed my distracted demeanor, their concerned glances evident. They'd always been perceptive, and it was clear they sensed something was amiss.

"Minho baby, is everything okay?" my mother asked gently, breaking the pattern of small talk.
"You've seemed a bit preoccupied."

"Sorry, was it that obvious?"
I forced a smile and nodded. 
"Yeah, just a lot on my mind. Training's been a bit overwhelming lately."

"You should've rested today." His dad said softly.
"It's your day off, you didn't have to spend it here."

"It's better here, than to be home,"
I replied, looking down my plate.

"You know you can come here anytime right? Don't hesitate, if you want I could-"

"Of course I know that, Mom. I'd never hesitate to be here,"
 I said with a forced chuckle. My mother was often oblivious to the underlying tensions, and in this moment, I wished she would be oblivious once more.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When it was time to leave, I hugged my parents goodbye, their love and concern wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. On the way back, my phone rings, it's Jeongin.

"Oh Jeongin, what's up?"

"Where are you? I haven't heard from you all day? And it's a weekend."

"I went to see Mom and Dad, why?"

"Why is everyone meeting their parents today?"

"What do you mean? Did you leave Seoul? Did you go to Busan?"

"No, not me, I'm talking about Hana and Seungmin."

"I knew about Seungmin."
I said, a little pissed that I didn't know about Hana.

"Hana didn't tell you?"

"Okay Sherlock, does it seem like I know?"

"That's weird. How do you not know?"

"I don't know."
I said blankly

"Don't tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"You guys had another fight."

"No, not- no we didn't."

"Definitely convincing."

"Fine, we did fight."

"I'm surprised that you both still manage to live together."

"I know."

"You're being serious? I was just joking."

"I don't know Jeongin. It's so confusing."

"Do you want to talk?"

"There's nothing to talk about. She started it. She told me to leave her alone and that she doesn't care if I care about her, which hit every nerve of mine, and in the heat of the moment I might have said mean things as well."

"Well what did you say?"

"I don't remember exactly, but it was along the lines of 'Well i don't care about you either, I don't give a fuck about you anymore, I'm never meddling with your business.'"

"And what did she say that made you say that?"

"That apparently, my concern suffocates her."

"Seriously, you two are acting like children. Why would either of you say that?"

"Actually, we'd been fighting for days before that. Last Sunday night, I couldn't keep playing the nice guy. Just so you know, she's been distant and rude for weeks. I hope that explains why I got so mad."

"I can blame both of you. First, you should've respected her space. Second, Hana shouldn't have been so harsh."

"But the thing is- you know what never mind."

"Why'd you stop?"

"I can't believe whatever that is that was going to come out of my mouth."

"What?"

"All I know is, If I see her miserable like that, I can't help it; It almost feels like I owe her. I don't like seeing her so hurt. And I definitely can't bear to hear her cry in her room alone."

"So you confronted her when she was crying?"

"Yeah, I confronted her when she was crying."

Jeongin's voice was tinged with concern.
"And what happened? How did she react?"

"She denied that she was crying. She had tears running down her face at the very moment, just so you know. And that really blew me off, I was like what are you trying to achieve by lying to the sole person trying to help you."

"You could've waited until she came to you herself."

"Good joke, Jeongin. Its hilarious."

"I didn't make a jok- Oh."

"Yeah. You and I both know she would never come to anyone herself."

"Maybe you guys shouldn't live together, anymore."

"You're joking right?"

"Not really. I just think that living 24/7 is affecting your relationship because you both have your problems to deal with.

"I don't think I can live like that."

"You don't have to live alone. Felix and Hyunjin's other roommate just moved out, they have an empty room."

"No- It's not about living alone."

"Now, I've completely lost you. I don't understand."

"Even I don't. It's complicated."

"Complicated how?"

"Jesus Christ Jeongin, I don't know."

"In what way at least?"

"I'd rather gag myself than say it out loud."

"Okay, then gag. Does it look like I'm playing around?"

"I think- I might- I feel like"

"Yes, those are all normal human capabilities, your point is?"

"God this is infuriating. Fuck this."

"No fuck you. You're telling me now."

"Maybe some other time Jeongin. I need time to process this. I don't want to jump the gun."

"I'm letting you off now, only because I feel bad."

"Okay, good."

"Seungmin won't be back until tomorrow night."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"The whole point of me calling you in the first place was to see if you both were down for a movie night at our place."

"I'm not coming if she is."

"Stop acting like a kid dude. I get it you're mad, but-"

"Fine I'll think about it, how about that?"

"If that's a yes, then good enough."

"Will Hana even come? You said she's at her parent's place."

"She said she'd be back tonight, she had no plans staying over."

"I don't see her car."

"Maybe she's late."

"Yeah, I know"
I sighed.

"You reached home?"

"Yeah, just walking to the lobby."

"Well, whatever it is between the two of you, fix it and come over tomorrow."

"I feel forced."
I joked

"Does it look like-"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I simply hung up on him, as a joke obviously. I walked to the door, punching in the code. As I got past the foyer, I glanced around at my cats. They were surrounded by at least six new toys and were completely absorbed in them. I didn't remember buying any of these toys. I squatted down to get a closer look and noticed that each of my cats had a collar on, with their names engraved on the lockets.

Was this Hana's doing? Was this her way of apologizing? It was working, because I found myself calling out her name, though I received no response.

I walked down the hallway that led to our rooms. Her door was wide open and the room was empty. So, she's been home, but she's left again? 

Just then, I hear the keypad beeps and the door opening and her running toward me. Well technically her room, but I'm standing in her way.

"Hey where we're you?"
She just pushed past me.

Well that's a great beginning. I was just starting forgive her.

"I was at my parent's place."

"Well you've been home and then you've left again"

"Yeah, I know."

"Can we talk?"

"Not now."

"Seriously, Hana? We need to talk,"
I said, my voice a mix of frustration and desperation.

She didn't turn around.
"I don't see why we need to. I'm tired of arguing."

"Then why are you running away?"
I demanded, feeling the anger and hurt boil over.
"You've been avoiding me for days. I'm sick of it."

"I don't want to talk to anyone at all. Please, please, just leave me let me be."

"I'm sorry, If I upset you. But you do realize you're wrong too right? It's not always about you."

"I know. I know I'm wrong. That's why just leave me. I'm fine."

"You can't hide your pain from people who love you, Hana."

She turns around, there are tears streaming down her face and a sort of bruised face. It made sense why she rushed past me so quickly, her face hidden.
"I don't care. I'm okay."

"You think you're stronger for pushing people away, for being alone? You can deny it all you want. Bottling everything up and pretending you need no one is just harming you, not making you stronger."

"Its making me strong because i know how to suppress these feeling, to not let them get to me."

"You're insane. You're crying as we speak. The fuck you mean you know how to suppress your feelings?"

"It doesn't mean I can't express my feelings to myself. You're just here at the wrong time."

"You're not as strong as you might think. Suppressing feelings doesn't make you strong. It just makes you weak in a different way. You deny and bury your emotions, but they're still there, festering beneath the surface. Honestly, I pity you."

"It just makes you vulnerable if everyone knows there's a festering emotions like that. It doesn't matter as long as you can handle it."

"And what's wrong with vulnerability? 

"Why would I want people to know how emotionally or mentally weak I am?"

"When you deny your own emotions, you're denying a vital part of yourself. And that's what truly makes you weak."

"So? Minho I-"

I let out an exasperated sigh, frustration returning.
 "So? So it's self-destructive. It's not healthy. This tough, lone wolf act you've got going on, it might make you feel strong, but it's going to backfire, big time."

"It already did, long ago. I lost everything, and I'm not afraid to do it again, with you or anyone else in my life."

I took a step closer to her, my voice quieter but still firm.
"You think you can predict how others will react? You think you can control how deeply we care about you? News flash: you can't. You can push and push and push, but eventually, people will break through your walls. Because we care—me, your best friends—despite your best attempts to make us not."

"My dead body would be closer to vulnerability than I'll ever be, while I'm still alive."
She said, looking away from me.

I reached out, grabbing her shoulders firmly, forcing her to look at me.
"But you'd be dead, for God's sake! How is that better? How is being dead better than letting people care about you while you're alive? Do you really value the idea of being tough and unfeeling that much, that you'd prefer death over vulnerability?"

"Stop questioning me. Let me go," she said, shaking herself out of my hold.

"Seeing someone talk so casually about death, about being vulnerable only in death, it's not okay. It's far from okay. Can't you see how destructive that mindset is? How harmful it is to yourself?"

"I don't care, Minho. I really don't."
She said, raising her voice out of frustration

His expression shifted from frustration to one of genuine concern.
"So you know it's hurting you, damaging you, and yet you keep doing it? That's not strength, that's self-destructive behavior."

"Do i really have to spell it out for you?"

"Apparently so, because I can't fathom why you would willingly, knowingly do something that harms you. So please, spell it out for me. Explain why you're so fine with hurting yourself."

"I CAN'T FUCKING LIVE ANYMORE. I DON'T WANT TO. I'M DONE."
She screamed.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, more brutal than any blow I'd ever taken in the ring. My shoulders slackened in shock, my heart clenching in my chest like a vice. I was stunned into silence, my gaze locked on her. The shock and sadness twisted my face into a painful mask

"Why the hell would you say that so casually? Why do you sound so unbothered by the idea?"

You still don't get it? The idea just sounds so tempting, even if it's not a good plan. I'm not a person you want to be around. I'm past being fixed. Nothing, nothing is going to fix me."

"Stop it. Stop saying that as if there's no hope for you. I refuse to believe you're beyond repair. You're a human being, deserving of love and care, just like everyone else."

"Don't ever use the word 'love' again," She choked on the words, her voice cracking.
"If I was loved, I wouldn't be this way. Love is a fucking fraud."

"I understand you don't want to believe in love, don't want to think about someone loving you. But that doesn't change the fact that it can, and does, exist. And you deserve to experience it, whether you want to accept it or not."

"There's a great difference between whether I deserve it or I want it. I might not want it, but let me tell you something—I don't deserve it either."

"You might think you don't need it, but everyone needs love. It's a basic human need. Even if you deny it, even if you don't want to believe it, you need it. And you know what's worse? You're denying yourself a basic human need out of fear."

"What fear? There's no fear."

"Why do you keep denying yourself the chance to be cared for? Whatever your reasons are, they're not logical. They're just excuses, ways to push people away and stay safe in your own little solitary world."

"What's so wrong about staying  in your own little solitary world?"

I let out an exasperated breath, my expression a battlefield of frustration and sorrow.

"It's not wrong to want to be safe, to want to protect yourself. But isolating yourself completely, pushing everyone away, it's not about being safe. It's about being afraid. Afraid of getting hurt, of being vulnerable. And that fear—that's crippling you, making you believe you don't need anyone, don't need love. It's a lie you're telling yourself."

"No, it's a lie that was keeping me sane. That was good for me."

I shook my head, desperation seeping into my voice.

"Why can't you listen for once?"

"Because I couldn't care more."

I looked at her, my gaze a mix of frustration and heartbreak.

"Of course you don't care. That's the problem. You don't care about yourself enough to see the damage you're doing. Can't you see what this is doing to you? This whole 'I don't need anyone, I don't need love' act—it's tearing you apart. You're slowly destroying yourself from the inside, and you don't even realize it."

"Maybe I'm allowing it to happen. Maybe I don't care anymore. I haven't for a long time. I told you, I don't want to do this anymore."

"So, you're just giving up. You're too damn stubborn and afraid to even try."

"Maybe I am, but you don't get to say that I 'haven't tried', you're a jerk for saying that. So, maybe under this thick, tough exterior... I couldn't care less anymore. It's tiring. I can't do this anymore."

"I knew it. Why? Why can't you just let go, just let someone care about you?"

"Because I'd rather die alone than bring someone down with me."

"What the hell are you talking about? You think loving someone, accepting love means bringing them down? You're more messed up than I thought."

"I know I'm messed up. I know I'm a mess that's not worth fixing. You think I don't know that? And great job saying it right to my face."

I clenched my jaw, my voice rising in volume.

"What, you want me to be nice about it? To sugarcoat the truth? You're a mess, okay, but guess what? Everyone's a mess in their own way. We all struggle with our traumas, troubles, our baggage."

I took a step closer her and said,

"But you're the one who's willingly, willingly choosing to stay in this mess. To refuse help, to push people away. That's not strength, that's just stupidity."

"I believed I could fix it. If people just stopped—"

I cut her off, my voice harsh and uncompromising.

"No, you can't. You think you can fix yourself all alone? That's a load of bullshit, and you know it. Fixing yourself, healing—it's not something you can do alone. You need people, whether you like it or not."

"I hate you. I really do." She pushed against me, her rage and pain spilling out, and fled to the room, slamming the door in my face.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hana POV:

The door slammed behind me with a deafening finality, but it did nothing to drown out the echoes of his words. I sank down against it, my back hitting the cold wood as I slid to the floor. The walls of the room seemed to close in around me, my breathing ragged, every inhale a struggle against the suffocating weight of my own despair.

The room was dim, lit only by a sliver of light seeping through the narrow window blinds. I stared at the tiny crack of light, watching it dance with the flickering shadows. It felt like a cruel reminder of the world I felt so disconnected from—a world that continued to spin, indifferent to my suffering.

His words replayed in my mind, each one a knife twisting deeper into my soul. The weight of his accusations, his desperation, and his raw emotion crashed over me like waves in a stormy sea. I clutched my knees to my chest, trying to make myself small, to disappear from the chaos within and without.

"You don't care about yourself enough to see the damage you're doing," he had said. I could hear it as if he were standing right there beside me, his voice echoing through the hollow space of my room. The accusation felt like a cold slap, forcing me to confront the ugly truth I tried so hard to avoid.

Things with my parents earlier today was the reason I reacted the way I did. I didn't know how to tell him what happened. But my tongue slipped about not wanting to live anymore. All in all, in general, be it as a daughter, student, friend, roommate- I'm terrible in everything.

⚠️-abuse

-earlier that day-

"So, what are you up to now?"
My Mom asked, her tone sounding uninterested.

"Studying, lectures, internship."
I replied, trying to keep my tone polite, even though my insides were churning.

"I see it was your friend's birthday 2 days ago. What was his name again?"

"Seungmin, it's Seungmin. You've know them long enough, Mom."

"Well i can't really be bothered about them now, can I? All I want to know is if you were there."

"At his party? No, let me rephrase that, At his 24th birthday celebration- kind of a big deal? No mom, i wasn't."

"Good for you Hana, that is if you're not lying and trying to act smart."

"I was home. I didn't go."

"When's your next big exam?"
My dad asks.

"Mid-term, yes.  Around the middle of next month."
Lack of interest was evident in my tone.

"So your mocks are over?"
she continued, her tone as annoyed as ever.

"Yes."

"And you didn't bother to tell us?"
The irritation in my dad's voice was  unmistakable.

"You didn't bother to call me when i was sick either. And am I supposed to tell you everything?
 It wasn't even my actual test. Just a mock."
 I shot back, trying to mask the hurt with defiance.

"This is exactly why we hate to see you. Always spoiling the mood.  And don't you dare talk back to father, Hana."
 Her words were harsh, a reminder of how unwanted I felt.

Okay, I won't be here anymore to spoil the mood anyway, so don't worry.
I thought bitterly.

"What did you get on your mocks?"
 she continued, her voice laced with disdain.

"We didn't get our papers back."
I said, knowing full well she wouldn't be satisfied with that answer.

"Are we stupid or are you?" 
Her tone was venomous, cutting through my already frayed nerves.

"Can't you just take my word for it?"
I pleaded, my voice cracking with the strain of maintaining composure.

"But you're lying, you insolent brat."
The accusation stung, a blow to my already battered self-esteem.

"91.3%"

I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

"No wonder."
Her response was dismissive, almost as if she were speaking to an annoyance rather than her child.

"I've improved but, haven't I?"

My father stood up abruptly at this. The clatter of his cutlery hitting the plate was jarring, and the tablecloth was yanked from his lap, falling to the floor in a tangled heap. His eyes were dark with anger as he charged towards me, his face twisted in rage.

I braced myself for the impact, but nothing could have prepared me for the force with which he hit me. The blow came harder than I had expected, knocking me to the floor. Pain exploded through my side, radiating outwards with a sharp, searing heat. I gasped, clutching at the throbbing spot, my vision blurring with tears of both physical and emotional pain.

"Improved? Is this a joke? This is all a joke you, is that it?"

My legs wobbled as I tried to stand back up on my feet, but failed miserably, falling back on my knees. My breath came in shallow, ragged bursts, each one a struggle against the pain and the humiliation. I could feel the tears streaming down my face, a mix of physical agony and the crushing weight of their words.

"Something around the perfect score is all I ask for. Why can't you do that? It's not that hard."

I bit my lip to stifle another cry, the physical pain and the sting of his words mingling into a chaotic storm within me. My attempts to rise were futile; each movement seemed to only intensify the throbbing in my side. I struggled to form words, but the pain made it hard to think clearly.

"I'm... I'm trying," I managed to choke out, my voice barely more than a whisper. My throat felt raw, each word a laborious effort.

"Well clearly trying isn't good enough," he snapped, his frustration evident.
"You need to get up and stop acting like a weakling. We don't have time for this."

I wanted to tell him that I wasn't acting, that I was genuinely struggling. But the words caught in my throat, swallowed by the overwhelming pain and the fear of further punishment. The isolation and the anger in his voice felt like a physical barrier, keeping me from reaching out for the understanding I so desperately needed.

"You have to be on the top. I have a reputation to keep in this very industry. I can't have a loser for a daughter, do you hear me?"

"Dad I'm tired. I know it's been my dream, I know I got it from you, but I'm not sure anymore."

My legs were shaky, but I managed to get onto my feet, swaying dangerously. I was barely standing, my balance precarious and my body trembling. The room seemed to spin around me, a blur of harsh lights and sharp shadows.

"How many times, Hana? You're not sure? Are you trying to prove that you're a loser?"

"Please, I'm telling you, I tried. It was hard for me. I missed so many lectures, it was so hard to catch up."

Another hit across my other cheek.

"And whose fault is that? Anxiety, not eating, not sleeping—all excuses. Excuses for not wanting to work hard."
His voice was icy, devoid of sympathy.

 "I'm not going—we're not going to be here forever, Hana. And I most certainly won't leave you to be a loser either. Either you work sincerely or I'll send you away."

The threat hung in the air, oppressive and suffocating. I tried to focus through the haze of pain and humiliation, my thoughts a jumbled mess of fear and confusion.

"Send me away where?"
I managed to stammer, my voice barely more than a whisper.

"Get you married and out of your new house. If you can't make your own life, that's my plan."
His words were cold, final.

"You can't just do that. I don't want to get married."
I looked up, wide eyed.

He grabbed my chin pulling it down below his eye level. 

"No one would want to marry you anyway. It'll be your luck if you got married to a decent man."

"I'm sorry. Please, let go."
 I pleaded, my voice cracking as I tried to pull away from his harsh grip.

"I don't want to hear any more excuses, Hana. Either you start taking responsibility, or you'll face the consequences of your failure. And don't think for a second that I'll let you off easily. Because I expect the best from you, only the best."

The finality in his voice made it clear—there would be no leniency, no second chances. My heart pounded in my chest, a heavy, suffocating beat that mirrored the turmoil within me. The weight of his words pressed down on me, a relentless reminder of how inadequate I felt, of how far I seemed from meeting the expectations placed upon me.

My father stormed away to his room, the slam of his door reverberated through the house, leaving behind a heavy silence that pressed down on me like a suffocating fog.

I picked up my handbag and phone, my hands shaking slightly as I clutched them tightly. 

I stood there, my eyes fixed on the floor, my mind racing. The room felt like it was closing in, the oppressive silence amplifying the turmoil within me. I felt like a ghost in my own home, a mere spectator in a drama I no longer wanted to be a part of.

I glanced up occasionally, hoping—needing—my mom to say something, anything. Her silence was almost louder than the shouting had been. The tension in the air was palpable, a thick, oppressive blanket that made every breath feel labored.

Her figure was just visible in the corner of the room, her back turned to me. I could see her shoulders rise and fall with her breathing, her posture rigid and tense. The silence stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity as I waited for her to break it.

When I realized she wasn't going to say anything, a crushing sense of abandonment washed over me. My mother's silence felt like an echo of my father's cruelty.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my voice despite the storm of emotions swirling within me. The silence between us stretched like a chasm, filled with unspoken words and unresolved pain.

"If you're not going to say anything, I'm leaving."
My voice came out harsher than I intended, but the frustration and helplessness made it almost impossible to keep the bitterness out.

"I have no words for you. You're on own to fix this.
Leave if you want, no one's stopping you."
She said nonchalantly.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The same idea from earlier, which had become louder in the past week, settled in my mind again with an unsettling clarity, a hauntingly simple solution to the chaos and pain that had become my daily existence. I imagined what it would be like to just disappear. I pictured slipping away quietly, without fanfare or final goodbyes. The thought of leaving felt like a release, a way to step out from under the suffocating weight of everyone's expectations and failures.

In a twisted sense, it seemed like a solution that would make everyone happy. My father would no longer have to deal with the constant reminder of what he saw as my inadequacies. My family would be spared the burden of my struggles and failures. Minho wouldn't have to be worried, he wouldn't have to fight with me. Seungmin and Jeongin would move on with their lives.

The thought was both terrifying and oddly comforting. It was an escape from the relentless pressure, a way to silence the harsh criticisms that echoed in my mind. The idea of leaving, though far from ideal, seemed like the only option left.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

a/n: THIS IS THE LONGEST CHAPTER SO FAR
 (i don't think i can write one this big for the rest of the book, like wym this chapter is 4.8k words long ????)

I don't like reminding readers, because I don't want them to do it under pressure or guilt trip them,
but please, vote on the chapters once you've read them (only if you think it's deserving TwT) it really helps. And if you have the time, then leave a few words<333