︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

  𝗀𝗈 𝖺𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗋𝗒,
𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗇𝗈𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗍
𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈
 — 𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗒 𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗎𝖾𝗌-NBHD—

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hana POV:

I woke up a little early as 8am, Even though I went to sleep late since I was going through a dissertation but i guess the excitement of finally moving to my own place got to me.
Its was 9am by the time i got ready and I'm just about to leave the house with a few other things that were not taken to the new house as I preferred to take them over myself.
I wore a simple black cargo pant with a cropped cardigan over a tank top.

I texted seungmin and jeongin on our group chat before leaving.

USELESS HOES
baby🍞, puppy🐶 and medic👩🏻‍⚕️

Medic👩🏻‍⚕️:
bitches, I'm leaving now, finally.

Sent to baby🍞, puppy🐶 at 09:10am

I swear if none of you come help me move
things around at my new place,
i will disown you without a second thought.

Sent to baby🍞, puppy🐶 at 09:13am
Seen by puppy🐶 at 09:13am

puppy🐶:
Geez Lady, we're coming, don't worry,
just tell us when you get there, that place is just
5 minutes away from ours.

Jeongin hasn't woken up yet, he says he's tired.

Sent to baby🍞, medic👩🏻‍⚕️ at 09:14am
Seen by medic👩🏻‍⚕️at 09:15am

Ok bro, ill wake him up, no need to
get sassy with the 'seen' card.

Sent to baby🍞, medic👩🏻‍⚕️ at  09:19am
Read by medic👩🏻‍⚕️at 09:20am

Haha works like a charm every time

Sent to baby🍞, puppy🐶 at 09:20am
Seen by puppy🐶at 09:20am

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and cautiously stepped out of my room, balancing the last two small boxes in my arms. In the living room, my father sat engrossed in his newspaper while my mother was absorbed in the TV. I placed the boxes on the nearby table, waiting a moment, hoping for even a glimmer of acknowledgment.

"I'm leaving now," I announced, standing there a bit stiffly.
"As I mentioned, I'm moving into my new place today."

My mom barely glanced up.
"Right. Well, take care of yourself. And please, focus on your studies. Just because you're out of our direct supervision doesn't mean we won't know if you're slipping.
We don't want you falling further behind."

"Falling behind? What do you mean by that, Mom? I've never taken my studies lightly,"
 I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

Dad lowered his newspaper, just long enough to say,
"Well, it's not like your grades have been outstanding, regardless if you put in the effort.
Did you already forget what happened last semester?"

I took a breath, swallowing my frustration.
"Mom, Dad, can't you just let it go this once? Yes, I slipped up, but I've proven myself before and again. Can't that be enough for you?"

Dad's voice grew sharper.
"If it happened once, I don't see why it wouldn't happen again."

Mom stayed silent, an agreement in her stillness.

I bit back the hurt, but I couldn't keep my voice from trembling.
"Fine. You're right. I'm sorry for not being enough—for always falling short. But I promise, I'm almost there. I'm almost done. I just need you to believe in me for once."

The words hung between us, and I wasn't sure if I said them out of defiance or simply to end the conversation. I turned back to my boxes, ready to leave, hoping maybe to escape without another comment.

But Dad wasn't done.
"Sorry won't cut it, kid. You need to be more than just empty words and promises."
His voice followed me as I reached the front door.

I walked to my car, alone. They didn't even walk me to the door or say goodbye. 

My father's words echoed in my mind, tightening around me like a weight,

               "Your grades aren't phenomenal."

"It happened once, so it'll happen again."

            "Be more than empty words and promises."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

flashback

The day I got my semester report card, I dreaded going home. I knew the conversation that awaited me and that the score—89.5 out of 100—would somehow be twisted into something shameful.

As I wandered around to avoid going back, a gray sky seemed to mirror my mood, and soon enough, the rain started to pour.

 I was completely drenched by the time I was anywhere near to my house, but i couldn't care less and walked home in the rain. This is when i realized how pathetic i was. Walking in the rain alone, shivering and tears flowing down my face.

There was something still comforting about the rain. No one would know tears were streaming down my face unless they came close to it. It would just be me and the tears on my face which were washed away as soon as the fell.

By the time I finally walked through the door, drenched and shivering, my parents' faces twisted with confusion and impatience. I didn't need to hear what they'd say next to brace myself.

"Why are you soaked? You were supposed to come straight home!"
Mom's voice cut through the silence.

My father's voice was harsher, slicing through whatever composure I had left.
"Where's your report card? Is this what you're doing now? Avoiding us because you're just going to disappoint us again?"

"I... I'm sorry I came home late," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Can I change first? I'm freezing."

"Not until you show us whatever disappointing bullshit you're hiding."

"I swear its not that bad."
I sighed, pulling out the report card, hoping somehow they'd see it differently. But as my father's eyes scanned the numbers- a few A's and only one A+, his face hardened. You could see his demeanor go from slightly pissed to absolutely furious.

"This is it?" he spat, his voice growing angrier. "This is what you call 'not that bad'?"

I just stood there, staring at the puddle forming around my feet, rainwater dripping from my clothes.

"If this is the best you can do, maybe it's time to stop fooling yourself—and us."

I took a shaky breath, trying to defend myself.
"Dad, I know it could've been better, but the semester was tough on everyone. This score is still the highest in my class. Just because it's not over 97 doesn't mean I don't have any worth."

My mom's voice cut in, sharper than I expected.
"Hana! How dare you talk to your father like that? He's only looking out for you."

My dad, glaring, threw the paper to the ground and stormed off to his study. Mom picked it up and examined it herself, shaking her head in disapproval.

"Only an 89.5%?" she muttered, as if to herself. "No wonder your father's so upset. You've disappointed us, Hana—more than you realize."

"Mom, is 89 really that low? Even if it was the highest score?"

She shook her head.
 "It doesn't matter. It's still disappointing."
She handed the paper back, softer in gesture but no less condemning.

When I got to my room, I emptied my soaked bag onto a towel, set it under the fan to dry, and placing my bag in the balcony then grabbed some fresh clothes. 

In my bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror, feeling the weight of it all. 

Every effort, every late night, every test and assignment I'd aced throughout the semester—meaningless, because of one final score that wasn't high enough.

It felt like everything I'd worked for had just... washed away, just like the rain outside.

⚠️

 Alone on the floor of my bathroom, I let the tears come. It was a familiar numbness, the kind that made everything feel pointless, yet at the same time, too heavy to bear.

I was thinking if anything was worth living anymore. 

But it doesn't help because there was too much lose.

Things that were still worth living.

Because in the back of my head, there were reasons that kept me here—small, stubborn flickers of hope. One of them, stupid as it might be, was wanting to make my parents proud. To somehow reach that "greatness" they expected, just to see them smile, to have that rare approval.

The thought wasn't enough to silence the ache inside me, but it was enough to keep me here. And yet, in moments like these, when the pain became too much to hold, I turned to a habit I hated but couldn't seem to break. 

Maybe, cutting had to suffice this time too. Another time maybe, when there wasn't a lot to lose.

Reaching behind the mirror, I found the blade, its cool surface feeling oddly comforting against my skin. I made a few small cuts over my thighs, hidden enough that no one would notice, that no one would know. The sting was grounding, in some twisted way offering me control over my own pain.

Then, as I noticed the thin red lines and realized I'd broken my three-month streak, a rush of shame flooded me. 

I felt even smaller than before, yet somehow, the sight was soothing, too—a strange contradiction I couldn't understand but needed. 

I shook my head as i came back to my senses and quickly stopped what i was doing.

The warmth of the water in the bath stung against my skin, and I forced myself to clean the wounds, even though it hurt.

After drying off, I gently applied ointment to lessen the marks, my hands shaky but steady enough to do it right. 

I slipped into my pajamas and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up and letting the silence settle around me. Exhausted, I closed my eyes, hoping sleep would bring a bit of peace.

End of flashback

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

a/n: Well, finally a little action, if you could even call it that.
Everyone loves a little angst, well good for you readers, this story will have plenty of that. But, I'm not a sadist, so there will be loads of fluff too because who doesn't love fluff and angst .