III. TOXIC POSITIVITY

"Take a small break, sweetheart."

"No, grandma! You've been working non-stop since we started. I can do the rest," Miro gently chastised, giving the elderly woman a small glare as she continued to wash the clothes with learned ease.

For the past few weeks, the producer was less of a music maker and more of an all-rounder in the context of working. While attending the minimum required attendance for her last year of high school, she worked multiple jobs on the side of her being a producer. These jobs earned her a fairly small amount, but her determination to work for her dreams was an eternal flame in spite of the numerous temptations to break down and cry every so often— even if she would break down, she wouldn't be able to because there simply was no time.

There was no reason to dwell much on her living situation, either. She would wake up before the sun would rise and turn in for the night only as the city slept. In the early mornings, on the days she wouldn't attend school, she would go to a neighborhood near the entertainment building to work for an old woman who handwashes clothes for a cheaper price than those in laundromats. She would clock in at 4 AM and clock out by 6:30 AM. After that, she would go on to a small eatery to prepare pre-made meals and wash dishes just in time for the eatery to open by 10 AM. From then on to 8 PM, she would work as a producer. She would then wash dishes for a restaurant until 12 AM— she would participate in clean up sometimes, too. On the days she had school, she would only work in the late afternoons and nights.

If, by chance, she still had time and the city was still bustling, she would try busking to maximize her time for extra earnings. Still, these weren't enough to keep her afloat, so she's been trying to find people who could take her in for weddings and other events that would need a performer. So far, she hasn't received any offers, but she's been doing her best to post her covers on social media to reach a wider (albeit small) audience.

Finding time for herself has never been such a hassle before. Adequate self-care was optional and such a waste of precious time. She couldn't keep count of all the times she turned down hanging out with Jeonghan because she was too busy. At least he had his new friends in the entertainment company he was training in to keep him occupied.

"Even my own grandchildren don't nag me like you do, sweet girl," the old woman, Dasom, mused at the young producer. She sighed with a soft smile. "How is this dream of yours working out so far?"

The sun slowly rose, slowly painting a gentler yet brighter hue of blue on the horizon and signaling the near end of Miro's time on the rooftop of Grandma Dasom's home. Sweat beaded on the girl's back despite the cold of that spring morning. Nevertheless, a smile remained on her face as she worked diligently to finish washing the clothes so she could hang them all already.

She stood up from her small chair, leaving her fresh batch of newly washed clothes to sit in the fabric conditioner. Carrying one of the large, deep basins near the farthest clothesline, she replied to the old woman, "Pretty good! We've already finished the final final two tracks for the single debut album of our boy group. And I finally decided on my producer name!"

"Ooh, is it hip?"

"I guess?" she chuckled, hanging the clothes with full efficiency that made the grandma feel like she was working with a machine rather than a human teenager. "It's MAZE. Is that hip enough for you?"

Dasom hummed, also hanging clothes, "Is that an English word?"

"Yeah, my name, Miro, means 'maze' or 'labyrinth' in English, so I might as well use it since it sounds cool enough. It'll stand out in the song credits."

"Oh, my sweet girl," the grandma breathed out fondly, shaking her head. "I've never met someone with so much strength. I'm sure your parents are so proud of doing such a good job with raising you."

The girl's smile wavered slightly.

Her father was proud of her. So proud that he would spend extra just to see her busking on certain days because he couldn't be present in her previous stage performances with GLAM. He even gave her a bunch of pens with her initials on them that she has used every day in the studio for the past few weeks. On the other hand, her mother was the complete opposite. Ever since she found out that her only daughter had auditioned for a K-pop group, it was as if every bond between them was severed. Not once has she ever spoken to Miro about her pursuing a career in music in a positive light. She would always be faced with endless anger and disappointment for allegedly wasting her potential.

And perhaps her mother was right. Miro couldn't deny the facts. She was intelligent and hardworking, that much was highly praised in the past by her mother. There was a higher success rate in pursuing a good major in university to secure her future. She was living off of small salaries and an uncertain dream— and homeless. God, she couldn't even imagine what her mother's reaction would be if she found out. She hoped that she never would.

"Of course they are," she jested, forcing a smile at the elderly woman. She finished hanging the first batch of washed clothes. "Who wouldn't be proud to have a hardworking and gorgeous daughter like me?"

Dasom beamed at her, the aged crinkles of her eyes making her feel a sense of comfort. "My friends sure are curious about you, as well. They wonder who this wonderful girl who seems to have taken over all of my workload each day that I keep telling them about."

Warmth bubbled in Miro's chest at the thought of the elderly woman talking about her to others. It flowed from her heart and buzzed throughout her body. The feeling motivated her better than any caffeine boost would. Having someone see her as the elderly woman did made her feel strong. It filled her with hope and a somewhat toxic positive sense of self, reminding her that she was strong enough to weather this storm if someone believed in her.

No matter how tired she already was.

After quickly wrapping up her laundry job, she immediately set out to her next job using the bike she borrowed from the leader of her company's incoming boy group, Namjoon.

The small eatery wasn't so far from Grandma Dasom's house, so her journey there didn't take so long that she needed to rush her work with the laundry. She pedaled through the quiet streets of the neighborhood that slowly arose from its slumber, passing by exhausted students and workers trudging to the bus stop with unfocused, tired eyes.

Miro stopped in front of the eatery just in time as a small delivery truck arrived. She parked her borrowed bike and went on to carry the heavier boxes as her boss opened the door.

"Good morning, Mrs. Shin!" the girl greeted with a small smile, carrying the box of ingredients inside to the kitchen. "You ordered quite a lot for today. Is there any occasion?"

The older woman hummed in affirmation as she retrieved a lighter box from the delivery truck. "We have a special order today for my son's workplace. That's twice the work today since we can't close the eatery. There's tons of cooking and preparations to do, so be warned."

By the time Mrs. Jang was halfway through the eatery on her way to the kitchen, Miro was already brisk walking back outside to retrieve the final box of ingredients that appeared to be bigger and heavier than the one she already brought in. She shook her head, ridding her head of the dread of carrying it. Her strength from the vigorous training for the past two to three years to become an idol had to be put to good use somehow. Taking a deep breath, she slid the box out of the delivery truck and hastily carried it inside.

She hummed, "I can tell." The girl summoned more strength in her shaking arms to hoist the box on the counter of the kitchen. "Is Mr. Oh not working today?"

They started to put on gloves, aprons, and mouth shields. Miro, in particular, would also put on a disposable hair cap since she still had work in BigHit after. She wouldn't want the smell of food to stick to her hair and have the others question her whereabouts prior to clocking in— a pending nightmare she didn't want to happen.

"He'll be helping us shortly after getting little Ada ready for daycare. That little girl is already so spunky for her age. She had a terrible time on her first day yesterday because her daddy allegedly didn't sing while getting her ready." Mrs. Jang laughed fondly, arranging the ingredients while Miro went on to start cutting them up in the routine she had developed over the weeks. "You and your love for music really influenced her, you know."

Miro was glad enough to have found employers that embraced her desire to pursue music rather than chastising her for it. Not once did they judge her for not focusing on her academics as any other grown-up would, though she still tried to focus on schoolwork the best she could.

For the next hour, the girl and Mrs. Jang worked in harmony. Miro subconsciously sang as she quickly worked through the ingredients with her employer's directions. Her quiet, relaxed hums contrasted with the organized chaos they were making to get the job done. As she worked, the young producer recounted the musical pointers her senior producers recently taught her, making note of them for later.

"Miwo-eonnie!"

The small voice immediately caused Miro to step away from the stove, away from any hazard.

Little Ada ran up to her and hugged her leg, clad in her small uniform and small backpack. Her innocent eyes smiled up at her. "Take me to school."

Miro chuckled and crouched to her level. "You don't ask for requests like that, little miss. Can you repeat after me?" The child only tilted her head at her with a toothy grin. "Could you."

"Could you."

"Please."

"Please."

"Take me."

"Take me."

"To school?"

"To school?"

The teenager grinned widely, clapping. "Very good! Now, please put it all together, hmm? Could you please take me to school?"

"Take me to school, eonnie!" Ada cheered back, giving her the sweetest smile she could muster. "On your bike!"

"Oh, little miss," Miro let a breathy chuckle with a slight pout. "Your daddy will be upset since he worked so hard to make you pretty today. Plus, I'm busy helping your parents prepare the food before the shop opens."

Ada turned to her father, Mr. Oh, with a pleading expression no sane human being with a soft heart could resist. "Please, daddy? Just this once. I promise!"

In turn, the man turned to his wife with a sigh, knowing he was utterly defeated by his daughter's adorable request.

This caused Mrs. Shin to sigh, "I'm so sorry, Miro. Could you please take Ada to school? I know this is too much to ask since you're already so busy, but this kid can be difficult. It would be bad to keep entertaining her every beck and call, but we're rushing this order and the actual food for the restaurant right now. We'll be wasting time trying to convince her otherwise. I'll make sure to compensate for it."

Miro shook her head, already taking off her apron, gloves, mouth shield, and hair cap. "No compensatory pay or anything like that. Don't worry about it. Anything for this little missy. I don't think it's safe to ride a bike at the same time, though."

"That's okay!" Ada beamed, giving quick hugs to her parents before holding the teenager's hand. "Let's go!"

With a sigh, Miro bowed her head at her employers and brought Ada outside to where her bike was. She smiled softly, taking the helmet she almost never used and placing it over the little girl's head, sharing a small giggle as it was way too big on her. She gently carried Ada with one arm while keeping the bike upright, causing the little girl to giggle even more.

"You're the strongest girl, Miwo-eonnie!" the girl innocently praised, squeezing Miro's arm that caged her safely on the bike as the older girl started to walk to the daycare with large steps while wheeling her as she sat on the bike. "You must be eating a lot of vegetables!"

A gentle laugh fell past her chapped lips, "Yes, I eat a lot of vegetables, and I exercise every day. Do you want to be strong as well, little missy?" Ada nodded eagerly, causing Miro to give the little girl a side hug before carefully holding the handle of the bike again. The older girl walked at a fairly quick pace while ensuring the four-year-old girl's safety all throughout.

After dropping Ada off, the producer immediately set off on her bike, quickly peddling back to the eatery to get her job done. She had at least an hour and a half to finish everything if she wanted to get to BigHit on time.

 ☆

jeoha
lunch break

jeoha
this idol training is hard i feel like quitting

jeoha
i'm sticking with jisoo so if he quits i quit too hehe i told you about him before didn't i?

The young producer was in the middle of munching on the log of kimbap that Mrs. Shin gave her at the end of her time in the eatery for lunch as she listened to the playback of the song she was arranging when Jeonghan started to text her. The other producers were out on a lunch break of their own, but she preferred to stay in the studio to get more work done and even take a nap, if possible.

miro
it's my lunch break too :P call?

Not ten seconds after she sent her message, Jeonghan went on to call her. She wasn't much of a fan of calls, preferring messages overall, but she knew that he preferred them because he was a lazy texter. Not that she was complaining. Miro removed her headphones and answered the call.

"Miro! I'm eating with Jisoo right now, the one I keep telling you about." Jeonghan's light voice rang through the small studio, making her smile comfortably. "We're eating chicken breast. What are you eating?"

"Hi, Jisoo! Jeonghan's been making fun of you behind your back to me," Miro replied jokingly, smiling as she heard a loud smack from the other side of the line and Jeonghan groaning in exaggerated pain. "I'm eating kimbap."

"You're all Jeonghan talks about when he mentions his friends. It makes us wonder if you're his only friend," a voice much softer than Jeonghan's said. Jisoo, she presumed. He had a bit of an accent. Must be American. "He tells us all good things, of course. He boasts about having you as a friend. Are you really a producer for a mainly hip-hop boy group? That's the coolest thing. I'd brag about it, too."

Pride bloomed in Miro's chest as she listened to him. She chuckled, "It's not as impressive as you think, but thank you anyway. Jeonghan isn't too much of a troublemaker there, no? He can be a little minx when he wants to."

"Tell me about it," Jisoo groaned on the other side of the line. On the other line, she could hear her friend smack him in turn. Jeonghan's voice then rang through, "You know, some of the guys here actually knew who you were when you were in GLAM. Who were they again? ...Oh! Seungkwan, Soonyoung, and Seokmin, no? Anyway, a ton of the guys here have been wanting to meet you. Me, especially. We haven't hung out in so long."

"Oh, that's so sweet! I thought we were pretty underground."

"Nope. Apparently, they were listening to your debut album religiously before."

This caused her to pout slightly, clearly touched by the thought. "Aww, I'd love to meet these guys."

She heard Jeonghan scoff. "Hello? Best friend here. You'd rather meet them than acknowledge that we haven't been hanging out? That's some tough love."

"Can't you accept that I'm probably sick of your face?"

"Jang Miro!"

The girl laughed loudly, "Missing me already?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, missy. You're not all that." She could practically see Jeonghan rolling his eyes on the other end of the line.

Miro chuckled, "I've been busy lately. Maybe we can hang out tomorrow night?"

Tomorrow was a Friday night. Many people would be outside, and the bustling nightlife would serve as the perfect opportunity to do street performances. Busking tomorrow would guarantee her at least twice the amount of earnings than those from other regular days since tipsy people relished the fun of music and were likely to give out loose change. Although it pinched her heart to sacrifice such a precious opportunity, she should still at least give him time, even just a little bit.

Yoon Jeonghan was one of her only friends she never wanted to lose.

"Oh, what is this? Our dear MAZE, the producer with no time, is initiating a hangout?" he gasped dramatically. "I feel special."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, mister. You're not all that."

After setting a time and place, they fell into a comfortable silence, with the call still ongoing. Miro ate her kimbap thoughtfully as she looked around the tiny studio. There was no exaggeration when she would describe it as tiny. It was the same size as a PWD public bathroom cubicle at most. Sounds of Jeonghan and Jisoo eating served as her ambient noise, embracing her in an odd sense of comfort despite the distance. Knowing that her friend was there despite ghosting activities made her feel nice.

"I'm going back to work. Good luck with training, you two," Miro sighed, throwing away the foil of her kimbap.

"So soon?" Jeonghan complained.

She hummed, her eyes twinkling with good-natured play, "Your loud chewing is grating my insides."

"It could have been Jisoo!"

"I'd know it's you even if I didn't know you were there."

"Rude! I'm hanging up, then. Good luck with work. See you tomorrow!"

The call left her with a ball of light in the middle of her chest, as it always did upon spending time with the company she enjoyed. It gently burned in her as she worked, the buzz of the wholesome interaction allowing a tiny subconscious smile to reach her tired eyes. How odd it was. A simple phone call, even just a short one, allowed her to feel lighter than she ever had for weeks. Perhaps that was the importance of friendship. It makes things a little lighter, even for just a little bit.

Hours passed like a blur. Her senior producers bombarded her with tasks, more than they ever did when she was producing the songs for GLAM's debut album last year. However, Miro kept working with a retentive mind and eagerness. It didn't feel like working.

Music wasn't a job for her.

Constant wonder and curiosity overtook her desire to retreat to her janitor's closet to crash out. No matter how much her eyelids fought to flutter shut once and for all, her eagerness to get through with the countless demos and melodies shone brighter. Every working day for her was like another day of learning how to swim despite feeling like a pro at it. Working as a producer was built up on moments when she thought she knew enough and found out that it was just a scratch on the surface— every day was a lesson for her.

If she was being honest, it scared her a bit.

Ambition clouded her crazed mind. Ambition fueled her tenacity and molded it into a mess of toxic positivity. She wondered how she could even manage each day with never-faltering smiles. A terrible thing. She was aware. Her self-awareness made her entertain the fearful thought that she was becoming a little too similar to Icarus. Perhaps she felt too much horror at the image of her failing, causing her to grasp at straws in desperation to fly closer to the sun.

To the sun. To the universe with the stars where she hoped she would land.

 ☆

People applauded her, some tossing some spare change into her guitar case. Miro smiled at them in return, strumming a soft tune to ride out the tiny impact of the song she had just covered. She looked down at the accumulated money in her guitar case, the corners of her mouth dropping slightly. It was barely anything like her earnings from the previous nights, and she needed to go to that Korean barbecue restaurant for her last workplace of the day.

With a gentle sigh, she bowed to the leaving audience and gathered her things. Her movements were rushed, perfectly blending in with the hustle and bustle of that busy street in Gangnam. She hoisted the strap of her guitar case on her shoulder and briskly made her way to the restaurant.

As she made it to the back of the restaurant, numerous pots and grills were already piled, calling her name. Just as she arrived, the owner of the restaurant, Mr. Lim, walked out with more grills that she would eventually get to. The sight of the pending dishes in front of her made her want to grimace, but she managed to school her expression and greet her employer with a kind smile.

She sat on the small plastic chair provided for her in front of the large basin, putting on her gloves. "Busy night, Mr. Kim?"

The elderly man only sighed in return. "The landlord's friends are here and they don't plan on leaving for another few hours. This is too much to ask, but do you mind staying a little longer than usual to help out with cleaning and closing up?'

"Of course!" Stupid. You have to wake up at 3:30 AM, she told herself. She smiled, nonetheless, to assure the elder man. "It's no problem. If you need any more help, I'll just be here."

Mr. Kim smiled at her gratefully. "Alright. You're a superhero, kid. I'll pack you some pork belly to go when we're all done."

The mention of food made her eyes light up, having not eaten anything yet since lunch. She bowed her head at her employer. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."

He left and she was left to do a mountain of dishes all by herself. She kissed her teeth, not wasting a second before diving into work. A more strenuous one than her job at the eatery since grills were more difficult to clean. The girl didn't want to be the cause of any problems either, so she had no choice but to be extra meticulous about her cleaning process. While this would cause her to take a longer time, she didn't mind as long as it would guarantee her money.

Ah, money. She was nothing but a slave to money.

Give it six months, and you'll finally be able to rent a tiny dorm, she promised to herself as she washed the dishes with passion. Give it two years, and you'll be able to sleep properly. Her actions while washing dishes were hasty and precise, the simple action allowing her to pour out her frustration. Give it ten years, and you'll finally live comfortably.

Although her beginnings were humble, she wished that the end would be prosperous.

But damn, was she exhausted. And it's only been a few weeks! How long can she keep this up?

"Stop thinking like that, Jang Miro. You can't complain as long as there's no proper bed to sleep in. Mind over matter. This is nothing," she hissed to herself, her eyebrows scrunching in determination. "You endured yesterday and every other day before that, you can take on anything. It's not so bad."

A few hours later, Miro was speeding through the dark streets of Seoul on her bike— back to the safety of her poor excuse of a room. It was a quarter 'til 2 AM. If she would make it to the BigHit office by the, she'd at least have an hour of sleep. She could make that an hour and ten minutes if she had showered quicker when she would wake up. However, she still had to eat the food Mr. Lim gave her and her nightly routines.

Damn it, she should just abandon sleep altogether. Wouldn't be the first time.

Her heartbeat rose to her chest, feeling paranoid as she would pass the dark alleys of the street. Goosebumps pricked her skin as she stopped in front of the building. She gritted her teeth, carrying the bike inside the building. The silence of the night only heightened her senses, her hands that gripped the rubber handles of the bike tightening and turning while. Cold sweat trickled down her back, and the cold breeze of that spring night did nothing to soothe her nerves.

It was funny how she could do this for weeks and still feel scared.

Footsteps suddenly echoed from the second floor where the BigHit headquarters was. At the same time, several footsteps sounded from downstairs.

Fuck, she cursed inwardly. She froze in her spot there in the stairwell, her adrenaline pumping and her grip on the bike shaking. The safest option was to go down because she'd be trapped if she continued her journey upstairs.

Before she could make a run for it, a familiar voice rang through the air.

"Miro-noona?"

Jungkook.

The girl's shoulders slumped in relief as she looked up the stairwell to the second floor. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

"Uh, our debut is right around the corner, and we wanted to make the most of our time by practicing."

Her eyes widened. "The others are here too?" It was one thing to face confrontation with the innocent boy, and he would easily buy any excuse she would tell him and might even keep their encounter a secret. Facing the other members, especially the older ones, was another story entirely.

"What are you doing here?" the younger one questioned, making his way down the stairs to meet her halfway. He furrowed his eyebrows at the sight of her, continuing, "And with a bento box and Namjoon-hyung's bike?"

From behind him, the said older member came into view. "Jungkook? What are you saying about my bike? Miro has it—" He noticed her and fell silent, observing the relief and nervousness in the eyes of the girl he's known since 2010. And everything fell into place. His conflicted eyes traveled back to his younger member, a frown evident on his face. "Can you call the others?"

Feeling the seriousness of the situation, Jungkook instantly complied despite not understanding the situation just yet, passing Miro with an awkward smile. Meanwhile, Namjoon followed him halfway down the stairs to carry his bike up for her.

"Where have you been staying, Miro?"

She grimaced. "It's not what it looks like. I left something in the studio earlier, and I came back to get it," she lied uselessly through her teeth. But what other excuse can she give him?

"Don't bullshit," Namjoon sighed softly. He stopped walking as they reached the office, looking around for where she must have been staying. "Miro, this is so reckless. Are you seriously living here? How long has this been going on? Since the disbandment? Are you crazy?"

"She's been what?!"

Seokjin, the oldest member of the group, barged into the office, his nostrils flaring and his ears becoming increasingly red by the minute. The rest of the members followed behind him, their expressions equally shocked and concerned. Miro took a step back, tightening her grip around the strap of her guitar case and the plastic bag of her bento box to mentally prepare herself for what was coming. She observed their expressions, their worry evidently translating into anger. Her eyes trained on her closest friend there, Yoongi, who looked at her in a way that made her feel worse.

"Are you insane?"

"You should have told Bang PD and figured something out!"

"This is dangerous! You should have just rented a room in a boarding house!"

Namjoon looked at her sternly, "Where have you been staying? This office? On the floor?"

The girl hung her head low as she answered, "The janitor's closet on the far end of the hall."

This fueled the fire even more.

"What?! The old one with the broken lock? Miro, even though the janitor doesn't get his supplies from that closet, that is the stupidest thing!" Taehyung sighed exasperatedly, shaking his head at her.

Jimin furrowed his eyebrows, "And you've been coming home this late every day? This building doesn't even have a security guard!"

"We're not the only tenants of this building, Miro! The people from the other floors could have found out that you're living in a janitor's closet and take advantage of that!" Hoseok scolded even more, making Miro lower her head even more since he was one of the nicest people she knew. "Where were you, anyway?"

She bit her lip. "From a restaurant. I work there during near-closing as a dishwasher."

"Is this your only side job?" Namjoon pressed, though the answer was evident in her face. "What else, Miro? There's no use in lying."

There's no use in prying information either, she wanted to say but bit back, knowing that it would earn her a harder scolding. It wasn't like they could do anything. What she did with her life was her business. She knew they were scolding her out of care, but what could she do? She had to do something somehow.

"I handwash clothes with a granny in the other neighborhood, then I'd work in an eatery for a few hours after that, then I'd work here as a producer. After I finish here, I go busking like I always did before going to the restaurant."

The boys were gobsmacked, looking at her with open mouths as they processed the information.

"Who in their right mind would hire a seventeen-year-old to work for them like this?" Hoseok asked rhetorically with a shake of his head.

Taehyung and Jimin, who were also born in 1995 like her, turned to him with a bit of a frown. The former furrowed his eyebrows. "We're nineteen—"

"But you're still seventeen in international age," Namjoon interjected. "That's still too young to be working so strenuously."

Yoongi, most of all, was shocked. Other than her same-age friends from the boy group, she confided in him the most. They were the closest. However, she didn't do anything of the sort and was left alone with no help. He prided himself on being a brother figure to her, yet he failed to see the signs. He failed to wonder where she was rushing to and from all this time. Guilt mixed with protectiveness bubbled up in his stomach, and he fought to scold the younger for not reaching out to anyone. But, then again...

"I would have done the same."

Heads turned to him, all of them in disbelief and incredulous— Miro especially. He had been quiet the whole time that the other assumed his silent agreement to their scolding. She expected him to reprimand her for doing such things as the others did, tell her she was stupid, and was setting her entire being up for hospitalization. But he understood.

"And you all would have, too," Yoongi tentatively added. He looked around and sighed, "This shit company just threw her out on such short notice, even after hiring her as a producer. Miro knows her calling is music. We all do. She has the courage to push through the challenges just to chase that dream—"

"At the expense of her safety and health!" Seokjin cut him off, his face starting to grow increasingly red. "Don't you understand how dangerous it is for a girl to roam the city at such a late hour? Don't you understand how detrimental it is for her health to sleep only a few hours a day after a ton of hours of labor? Don't you understand how dangerous it is for her to come home to a damn closet?"

"Then we help her. Why should we make this harder than it already is?"

The room was silent for a few beats.

The question lingered in the air, floating in the minds of the boys as they took in Miro's appearance. She was skinnier, hidden by her baggy clothing. Her eyes were obviously tired, dark circles emphasizing the fact. Overall, she looked like she wasn't okay. Yet all they did was uselessly remind her of things that she probably already knew herself. They were there scolding her without even realizing that they were taking away the small pocket of time that she should have been resting.

Miro could only fidget in her spot as she watched them start a debate about her decision. The eldest member was about to retort another logical and equally correct statement but was interrupted by Namjoon's defeated voice.

"...I guess Yoongi-hyung has a point," he asserted as he shook his head. He turned to the girl with a sad smile. "I'm not saying that it's right, but she had no other choice. Going back to her province with the news that the company wasn't giving her accommodation anymore would make things worse, and she may never come back because of her parents. Understandingly so. Even if we scold her all day, it won't erase the fact that this company can't afford to give her anything other than a job since there's such a tight budget for everything."

Slowly, the boys started to agree, one by one.

"And it's not like we can take her to our dorm, too. We're already living like sardines there as it is. Our pooled allowances can't even buy us proper food for ourselves. We can't give any significant help even if we wanted to," Hoseok sighed, a deep frown on his face. He lowered his head at the younger girl. "I'm sorry for yelling at you."

Seokjin bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes softening. He slowly turned to the end of the hall where the girl's makeshift room would be. "I'm sorry for being harsh, Miro." He turned to her and gently patted her head. "You're never going to pay for your own food again, okay? I'll take care of it. We'll buy you a new doorknob and install it for you."

Before Miro could shake her head and deny their help, Yoongi quickly interjected. "You're not alone in this, kid. Although we can't do much, we can at least do something."

"Let's make a system," Namjoon suggested. "Two of us will pick Miro up from her last job—"

"That's too much. Don't bother picking me up," Miro argued.

Hoseok sighed, "Then two of us will be here by the time you arrive from your last job just to make sure you come back safely. If you come any later than the time your shift ends, we'll come find you."

"Don't try to argue, will you?" Jimin pleaded, looking at her with a soft frown. "It's better if we make sure that you're safe one way or another."

Miro wanted to argue. She wanted to kick them all out of the building and demand that they go home to their dorm and forget about her living situation. She didn't need any help, she's been doing fine these past few weeks. Inconveniencing the boys, especially so near the date of their debut, wasn't something she was up for. They were working so hard already. She didn't want to add any more stress to her plate with something that she could handle all on her own.

"You're one tough cookie, Miro-noona," Jungkook spoke up, offering the older one a small toothy smile. "Letting us help you won't make you any less capable."

Looking at them, she knew that she had no room to argue. A deep sigh fell past her lips.

"Thank you."

NOTE

listening to niki's strong girl repeatedly really got me in the feels while writing this chapter :(( happy moments for my best girl will come soon!! this chapter is so rushed and sloppy hsgdhshajah might edit this in the future.

i'm so sorry for the lack of jeonghan in this chapter. this is a svt fic, i promise!! 

anyway, seungcheol has been taking over my entire fyp with a bunch of edits of him (esp with that one move from ash and his new haircut and those gose boat eps) ugh he's just so??? ARGHHH 

^^ just sharing some carat tweets that i found cute hehe. enjoy your day, dear reader!!