Somi held me for hours, running a comforting hand down my back as I wept into her chest.

I didn't stop, not for one second as I let out all my bottled up emotions, spilling out in the form of fat tears streaming down my cheeks.

After what seemed like forever, I slowed, my gross sobbing quietening to shoulder-shaking weeping, soft yet filled with sadness.

I finally stopped after another hour, instead rooted to the spot I was sprawled in for hours, holding on to my sister for dear life.

Somi ran her fingers through my hair, looking down with motherly affection as she asked, "Feeling better?"

I rested my head against her, shaking it. "Not really," I rasped out, suprised at my throaty whisper.

"Oh, sis..."

Slowly, with both her hands tugging at my arms, Somi pulled me up. She, after slinging an arm around me, led me to the couch, gently settling my sluggish self on the cushions.

A sudden ring at the door had the girl whirling her head at the sound of it.

"Wait, I'll be right back."

I turned my head to where she went, to the door.

She opened it, stepping back suddenly.

And gasped.

"Somi, who is it?"

She stood there for a moment, as if she hadn't heard me.

Then, she turned around, taking a step backward to show me who came.

"Sora!"

Hoseok sauntered in, his usually merry face wavering with a plethora of concern, of worry for a good friend.

Behind him spread out two familiar men.

On Hoseok's left stood Jimin, and on his right stood Jungkook.

"What the-"

I looked to the bags, hanging tightly around the boys' wrists except the redhead at front, who had his hands on his hips.

He strolled over to where I was, standing just in front of me.

Then, after squatting down, his arms flung around me, snaking around my body and pulling it close to his as he squeezed me in a hug.

"Darling," he greeted, rubbing a warm hand down my back.

Smiling, I hugged him back. "Hoseok."

Looking up at the two men behind the makeup artist, I put him in arm's length, inspecting them both. "Boys."

Jimin nodded, while Jungkook gave me a heart warming smile. "Sora," he said, his voice still soft, "It's been a while."

"Indeed," I replied, leaning back against the cushions as Hoseok got up.

He went over to sit beside me. Then taking my hand, he asked, "What's happened this week, Sora dear?"

Somi approached us, arms crossed. "I want to know what happened today."

I swallowed a lump in my throat. "Okay..."

Slowly, I recalled the heartbreaking memories of my visit to the headquarters, being too detailed over how Taehyung had blamed me for faking my love for his money.

I forced myself to add a bit of digust, but at this point I was shattered. I didn't care anymore, whether he thought what I'd said to him was real or not.

At that point, I just wanted to tell someone, so I wouldn't be the only one who'd have that horrendous day going over and over in my head.

Jimin frowned, Jungkook's face a mask of pity. Hoseok, however, looked confused. Aggravated.

"What?!" he exclaimed. "But that doesn't make any sense!"

I furrowed my brows. "What do you mean?"

The man ran his fingers through his wine-coloured hair, muttering something angrily under his breath.

"Hoseok, what is it?" I persisted.

He sighed, looking at me. "I...I don't know. Did he really say that?"

Pursing my lips, I sneered, "Well I wouldn't exactly be lying to you, would I?"

"Yes, yes, I know," he said, "But it's...baffling. Kim Taehyung would be the last person on my mind to say such words. Especially to you."

A humourless laugh rasped out of me. "He's said them, my friend. Spat them on my face."

Silence fell across the room as I said those words. Clearly everybody thought that Kim Taehyung would confess, if not gladly return my own.

It seems the bastard has pulled all our legs.

Hoseok let out a deep sigh. "Look, honey," he started, grabbing one of the bags from Jimin, "Now I know you're upset, so I got you some presents to cheer you up."

Raising a brow, I took it, glancing inside.

A smile widened on my lips.

"Chocolate!" I exclaimed.

I took a bar out, drooling at the milk chocolate filling the bag to the brim.

"It helped me a lot through my break up with my boyfriend," Hoseok explained, folding a leg over his knee. "And plus, that shit's delicious, so why not?"

I ripped open the wrapping, instantly snapping off a line of bricks and shoveling them in my mouth.

"Thank you, Hoseok," I said, smiling at him. I broke off another line, offering it to him.

"Speaking of boyfriends," Jimin spoke up, ruffling his blond hair. "Yoongi wanted me to tell you about his invitation to his show."

My eyes widened, snapping to Jimin's face. "You mean the 'Suga Show'? Positively the best talk show to exist on this planet?"

The young man laughed. "Indeed. Ever since your sudden popularity, Yoongi's been wanting to have you on the show. He knows that his viewers will adore you."

My smile faltered. "Well, I don't really know about that," I said. "I think most viewers would condemn me for trying to get with our fashion designer here."

"You tell them it's all wrong then," Somi countered. "You never lie, anyway, sis, and this isn't an exception."

I nodded, looking to the night view of the city, so alive during this time.

"And," Jungkook declared, "You could tell everyone the truth. How it really is between you both."

Glancing at the boy, I popped another chocolate brick in my mouth. "Maybe you're right," I said, slowly getting up.

"Maybe the world should know what Kim Taehyung has truly missed."

-

After Jimin got word of my acceptance to attend the show, I was due to be on it just three days later.

I tried to calm my nerves, tried to make myself a confident young woman who wasn't afraid of a few blunt questions, a couple of false accusations.

Inside, however, I was a mess.

Everyone knew of Min Yoongi's...temperament. His fame was handed to his quick wit and sharp retorts, but mostly on the fact he didn't give two shits about the celebrities invited on his show.

He didn't care if you were in a bad situation, or if it was a mistake. He wanted to know why you did something, and wanted honest answers.

Calm down, Sora. Remember he's a funny man too.

I looked down at myself, assessing my beige dress, scattered with shiny beads, some strips of the nude fabric trailing down to my knees.

My arms were covered with that coloured lace, my neck and legs the only skin I exposed.

For once, my hair wasn't a bun, but a loose high ponytail, some locks curling on my shoulder.

Biting my lips, I waited for Yoongi to sit down on his famous seat, in which apparently he kicked a singer out for sitting on it. Yikes.

The curtains opened, and the audience were a roaring mess, delighted to see their raven haired host.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Suga Show!" Yoongi exclaimed. "I'm Min Yoongi, and today I'll be interviewing a very special guest.

"She's tasted instant fame through her fabulous modelling, even reaching Paris to walk for V. Not only has she involved herself in that international company, but she may or may not have involved herself with the most eligible bachelor of South Korea. I welcome you, Miss Yoon Sora!"

Go.

My feet quickened their stilled pace, working a decent, sassy walk as the lights fell on me.

And as they did, the crowd went wild.

My heart skipped a beat. I didn't know, didn't think I'd have so many people wanting to see me, craving to look at me in real life, admire the person on the front page magazines.

It made me feel special. Made me feel like I was worth something to these people.

You know someone else that made you feel like that, don't you?

Ignoring that little comment, I sat down on the white sofa, flashing Yoongi a warm smile.

He returned it, surprisingly. "Ah, Yoon Sora. It's so good to finally see you."

"I'm...glad to be here, Yoongi," I replied. "Thank you for inviting me on your show. I feel honoured."

"Oh, cut the formalities, girl," the man drawled. "I'm not some long lost uncle parents randomly bring round yours. Make yourself at home."

"Well, if I did that Yoongi, this dress would be off right now."

A round of laughter sounded through the room, chuckling at my comment.

Yoongi smiled too, as put an ankle over his knee. "A sense of humour too? Why, remind me why I'm gay again?"

A laugh escaped me this time. "Careful, big guy, or Jimin at the back will knock me out the Paris catwalks."

"Damn it," Yoongi muttered playfully. He looked to the camera, saying, "I still love you though, Jimin baby."

The light conversations, the easy banter was shared excessively between us throughout the first half hour of the interview.

He hadn't asked too many personal questions, just a background on my origins, the struggle of my early modelling career, and my hobbies and personal aspirations.

Of course, I wasn't the type of person to lie on live TV, so I told him the truth.

I had fans, people who might even look up to me. I didn't want to set a bad example to them. I couldn't be that typical, snobbish bitch of a model who's so obsessed with her narcissistic self she forgets about the reason she's a model in the first place.

I was enjoying myself so much that when Yoongi asked about my 'fling' with Jungkook, I chortled over the question.

"Me and Jungkook?" I laughed. "I admit he's adorable, extremely cute, but he's just a friend. I wouldn't involve myself with him."

Yoongi flashed me a smirk. "So you decide to involve yourself with his best friend instead."

My mouth dropped.

Well then.

Someone snickered in the crowd. I had half the mind to throw my shoe at them.

Slowly, my smile flickered, going down and down until it hardened into a frown.

Yoongi, seeing my sudden change of mood, finally dropped the bomb.

"So, Yoon Sora, for how long have you been sleeping with Kim Taehyung?"

I blinked.

Of course he'd say I'm fucking around with that man. For God's sake.

"I haven't slept with him, Yoongi," I said thickly.

The man scoffed. "Bullshit. Utter bullshit spewing from those lips."

My eyes narrowed. Asshole.

"Don't even get me started on that man," I clipped. "This show would close down by the time I'm done."

"We've got all the time in the world," assured Yoongi, spying a piece of new gossip in my words. "And Sora, do you not like him?"

"Not like?" I clicked my tongue. "I hate him. I absolutely hate that man."

The crowd stopped murmuring. Even Yoongi looked a bit stunned by my revelation.

"And I don't just generally hate him, I hate every single element of him.

"I hate the way he laughs at you when you do something stupid. I hate the way he smirks at you when he says something completely ridiculous. I hate the way he...the way he looks at you when you blush, making you do so even more.

I continued, not being able to stop myself. "I hate the way he looks so gorgeous. I hate the way his hair, his curly hair is soft and luscious, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way his earring trickles down his ear. I hate the way he smiles.

"God, I hate the way he smiles at someone. The way he smiles at his friends, the way he smiles at my nieces, making them squeal."

I swallowed. "The way he smiles at me.

"I hate the way his lips form that little gesture. How does he do it so perfectly? It's subtle at first, but then it's suddenly so big, so wide, so full of joy and happiness and light so beautiful you can't help but smile back.

"And that's when my heart stops, and that's when my knees wobble, and that's when my eyes can't help but look away because his gaze is so intense that it's too much for a normal human being.

"But I don't back down from that gaze, Yoongi. Because when I stare back, I see all the wonders of the world. The light at the end of the tunnel. My hopes and dreams all cradled so gently in the irises of his eyes because to him they're so valuable, so precious.

I took a deep breath. "I hate the way Kim Taehyung makes me feel special. Like I'm a celestial being, a goddess reincarnated into a woman, like I'm some sort of treasure tucked away in the sands of time. I hate the way he compliments me, like I'm single handedly the most important person in his life.

"I hate the way..." I swallowed, trying to hold back my tears, "I hate the way he makes you believe it. Because he did. Because he did make me believe in it, and I was so stuck, so rooted to thought that when he shattered that very belief, he shattered me along with it.

"I hate the way I feel for him. I hate the way I want to hate him, but physically can't because I'm like a moth, drawn to his flame, and now I'm here I can't get out, because I'm in so fucking deep."

A tear fell, down my cheek and onto my dress. I calmed my shuddering breath, gripping the arms of my chair as hard as I could.

"I hate the way...I hate the way I love him. Because I do. So much. And I hate the way it's not returned, but Yoongi, I hate the way I don't regret being in love. Being in love with Kim Taehyung, most famous designer to live. The biggest asshole on earth."

I closed my eyes.

"The most important man in my life."

There.

I sagged against the sofas, breathing so heavily I was sure the audience could hear it.

I didn't care. Didn't give a shit at all.

There. I said it.

I said it all.

Silence answered my rant. I wasn't surprised, really. I myself was stunned.

I heard a whimper from the crowd. Then a quiet sob.

But all that was replaced with a deafening applause, clapping so loud my ears popped.

I opened my eyes, seeing the audience on their feet, eyes red rimmed and hands sore for my ovation.

Offering them thankful nod, I turned to Yoongi.

He looked terribly sad. "You really do love him, don't you?"

A small smile escaped me. "Unfortunately so."

-

After the show was over, I got my bag, throwing in all the snacks I snuck in from the bar.

I had bid Jimin and Yoongi goodbye, who had both hugged me, thanking me for coming here.

Waving them farewell, I opened the front doors of the show station, looking down at my heels.

The sliver of rain greeted me, falling lightly on my head, my shoulders.

Shit, I'm gonna get wet now.

I kept going forward, eyes down as I took out my phone, ready to message Somi.

Not looking ahead had me bumping hard into someone.

"Oh, God-"

I looked up, ready to apologise when my eyes widened.

As the man I loved stood in front of me, black umbrella in hand.

Kim Taehyung.

-

Hey guys!

Another long ass chapter as a thanks for over 40K. Thank you all. I'm still not over it.

Now, I wanted to ask you all a question:

Do you want me to end this story in the next two chapters or the next ten?

Because I want to end this story, but then I still want it to keep going for a bit. Because of me being so conflicted, I thought I should ask you all.

Anyway, please do vote y'all and tell me your opinions on this chapter. It shall be appreciated :)