At first, when Y/N didn’t show up at school, Taehyung didn’t dwell on it. Perhaps she was unwell, or maybe she simply decided to skip class that day—no big deal. Yet, as the days stretched into a pattern of absence, unease began to creep into his thoughts. He caught a fleeting glimpse of her once, wandering the school halls, but something about her demeanor stopped him in his tracks. Fear rooted him in place, a nagging worry whispering that her avoidance might have something to do with that night.

He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was wrong with her, but his insecurities cast a heavy shadow, convincing him that he was somehow to blame for her sudden disappearance. The guilt weighed heavily, leaving him trapped in an endless loop of self-recrimination.

When Y/N stopped attending school altogether, Taehyung’s unease spiraled into genuine worry. As he exited the school gates with Jimin one afternoon, his friend, ever the pragmatist, finally broke the silence.
“Dude, just go to her house or something,” Jimin suggested casually, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pavement. “Unless you’d rather interrogate her friends about why Y/N seems to have disappeared off the face of the Earth.”

Taehyung’s jaw tightened as he cast a sideways glance at Jimin. “You seem remarkably unbothered by all of this. Almost like you don’t care.”

“That’s not fair, Taehyung, and you know it,” Jimin countered, his tone calm but firm.

Before the tension between them could escalate further, Nayeon sauntered over with her signature strut, heels clicking against the pavement like a metronome. Her confident smirk was perfectly in place, as if she’d stepped straight off a runway.
“Hello, boys,” she purred, her voice dripping with mock curiosity. “Why the long faces?”

Both Taehyung and Jimin exchanged perplexed glances. Taehyung, in particular, felt as though he were trapped in some surreal dreamscape, his thoughts so consumed by Y/N that even Nayeon’s unexpected appearance felt like an absurd twist of fate.

“I just wanted to personally thank you both for attending my party. It was a hit,” Nayeon continued, her words smooth yet entirely self-serving. “I’m throwing another one this Friday, and I’d really appreciate it if you two could make it—especially you, Taehyung.” She lingered on his name, her smile widening. “Anyway, nice chat. I’ll see you Friday night.” With that, she turned on her heel and rejoined her entourage, leaving the boys standing in confused silence.

Taehyung was the first to speak, his voice low and strained. “I’m going to Y/N’s house. I need to know what’s going on.”

Jimin nodded, though his expression betrayed a flicker of doubt. “Yeah, okay. If she’s not there, there’s a slim chance she might show up at Nayeon’s party.”

As Taehyung trudged toward Y/N’s neighborhood, he felt the weight of Jimin’s parting words settle uneasily in his chest. A nagging thought gnawed at the edges of his mind—what if Jimin was right? What if Y/N had simply decided to leave without a word, without any intention of coming back? It wouldn’t be the first time someone like her had drifted away from someone like him.

When he arrived at her house, the sight that greeted him was like a punch to the gut. A bold For Sale sign stood proudly in the front yard, the glaring red letters mocking him with their finality. The house was eerily silent, devoid of any trace of life.

His chest tightened as he pulled out his phone, dialing her number with trembling hands. It went straight to voicemail, just as it had every other time he’d tried. His unread messages felt like another cruel reminder of her absence.

With a heavy heart, Taehyung began the slow walk back to his house, his eyes scanning the streets in vain hope of spotting her. But the sidewalks remained empty, and with each step, the reality of her departure sank deeper into his soul.

By the time he reached his front door, the familiar cacophony of raised voices greeted him. His parents were at it again, their arguments filling the house with a suffocating tension. Normally, he would shrink away from their fury, but tonight, their words felt distant, their insults muted. His mind was too consumed by thoughts of Y/N to register their anger.

He endured the tirade in silence, his shoulders hunched but unyielding. Once the shouting subsided, he trudged up to his room and collapsed onto his bed, his eyes fixating on the cracks in the ceiling as though they held the answers he desperately sought.

Why did Y/N leaving hurt so much? He barely knew her, not in the way that mattered. Yet, the ache in his chest was undeniable, as was the sense of loss that gnawed at him. He berated himself for falling so quickly, for caring so deeply about someone who had clearly decided to leave him behind. But another part of him, softer and quieter, whispered that it was okay to feel this way—that his loneliness had always made connections more meaningful, more fragile.

That night, Taehyung cried into his pillow, the tears flowing freely as he questioned why his life always seemed to spiral into pain and abandonment. He cried until exhaustion claimed him, his dreams offering no solace from the emptiness that had taken root in his heart.

The next morning, he woke with heavy eyes and an even heavier spirit. Skipping school was something he never did, but for once, he couldn’t muster the strength to face the world. The weight of Y/N’s absence was too much to bear.