Hana

I’m the first one up in the morning, and the light filtering through the curtains tells me that it’s late. I shift, wiggling out from Jungkook’s arm that had found itself around me in the night. He doesn’t move as I slip away, and I throw on his discarded button-down that was sitting on the post of the bed.

I can only sigh at the mess in the living room, and I start a pot for hangover soup before getting out a stack of paper towels and carefully picking up the pieces of shattered glass. The small slivers of wineglass stick to the wetness of the paper towels, and I toss it all in the trash.

Honestly, what had gotten into Jungkook recently?

The aroma of hearty broth starts to fill the kitchen as I chop some vegetables and toss them into the pot, letting the liquid bubble merrily. My eyes flicker to the clock and I sigh again. I should be at the hospital right now, but I remember what Jimin said about leaving before Jungkook was up.

I couldn’t win.

I pack two containers of the soup to take on the go because Ahyeon was probably stuck with disgusting hospital food. I should probably take what was leftover in my own fridge, just in case if I stayed late.

Jungkook still isn’t awake, and I pad back into the bedroom to see him gently breathing and curled up. I perch on the edge of the bed, shaking him lightly. He shifts slightly, but doesn’t bother becoming fully conscious.

“Jungkook,” I murmur, shaking him a little harder. “Jungkook, wake up.”

His eyes finally flutter open, and then he instantly grimaces, covering his head and burrowing himself under the covers. As suspected, he has a wine headache. I whip his covers off, and he growls.

“There’s soup in the kitchen, come on,” I grab his hand, tugging him up. His eyes are narrowed, trying to shield themselves from the light, but he slides to his feet and stumbles. I slip an arm around him, pulling him to the kitchen and force him down into a chair, sliding a bowl of piping hot soup across the table.

He starts off slowly, but then shoves the spoon into his mouth, gulping down the broth. His eyes clear up and when the spoon clatters noisily to the table, he looks up, fully awake and mind clear. “Are you wearing my shirt?”

“I didn’t want to put my dress back on,” I shrug, putting his bowl and spoon in the sink. “How’s the headache?”

“Awful,” He murmurs, and his eyes narrow again, pulling at the collar of his shirt and his fingers brush against my neck. “Why do you have a-”

My cheeks flush. He must have left a mark, and he probably didn’t remember what he did last night. “Ask your drunk self from last night.” I retort before turning on my heel and grabbing the containers of soup, slamming the door to his floor behind me.

I take the stairs up, running up and escaping to the safety of my own floor, throwing the soup and extra leftovers from my fridge into a large lunch bag before jumping into the shower, scrubbing away all the drama and alcohol of last night. I make sure to put on a turtleneck that hides the mark on my neck, not bothering to try with makeup.

A coat covers my shoulders, and just in case, I put on a scarf to protect from the cold Seoul air before bounding down the steps, lunch bag in tow and getting into the taxi that I had called earlier. I wasn’t in the mood of taking the motorcycle.

I lift my phone to my ear, hoping that Lay would pick up. The line rings twice, thrice, and I’m about to hang up, but there’s a tired “Hello,” on the other end and I breathe in relief.

“How is Chanyeol?”

“Barely alive.”

“But he is alive,” I close my eyes, a little hope flaring in my chest.

“Barely,” Lay repeats. “It hasn’t been twenty-four hours, so he’s not out of the danger zone yet.”

“I wish I could see him,” I sigh, but I know better. There would be consequences if I did that.

“You can’t,” Lay murmurs back. “I’ll keep you updated.” He cuts the call, and I drop my phone into my lap. I really need to thank Lay properly, along with properly apologizing. I messed up for maybe the hundredth time, and eventually Lay would stop coming back.

My phone vibrates, and I frown, swiping and looking at the message from Jimin. Is there a reason that Jungkook came up to my floor, looking completely panicked?

Why would he do that? I send a simple response back. No.

Where were you last night? And send me a picture of your neck.

Sh*t. Jungkook must have told him, so I sigh, tugging down the turtleneck and snapping a quick picture, hoping that Jimin wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. I send the image with the message something urgent came up.

Wtf Hana
You said you wouldn’t play with him

So it’s my fault when he does that when he’s drunk? Wtf Jimin how is this my fault? I mute my messages, entirely fed-up and not wanting to deal with the situation.
 

Suga

Ahyeon didn’t seem to like me very much. She didn’t say anything really, and I could hear her stomach growl. She looks at me with big eyes, and I want to bang my head against the wall. Of course. She was hungry.

“I’ll be back,” I pat her head, and I’m about to get up, and Byun Hana bursts through the door, eyes bright and a lunch bag dangling from her wrist.

“I brought food,” She announces, a smile spreading across her face. “Are you hungry?”

Ahyeon just silently nods, and Hana unscrews a thermos and pulls over the overbed table, setting a spoon and the soup in front of her. My own stomach growls at the smell of the soup, and Hana laughs at that, handing me another thermos and a spoon.

“Wait, you don’t have to-”

“Just eat, Yoongi,” She rolls her eyes. “I packed extra.”

Obediently, I spoon the soup to my mouth, letting the rich taste flow over my tongue. It was hangover soup, and it was perfect. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a meal cooked for me, and it was warm and it felt like there was care cooked into the broth. After a night of drama, anger, and forced socialization, it was perfect.

She chews at her leftover fried rice, watching Ahyeon eat slowly and dabbing at the corner of with a napkin, softness in her eyes. When she strips away her hard and difficult business exterior, was this who she was? Is this who she was around her fiancé, Park Jimin, and Kim Namjoon? Is that why she had them curled around her finger?

Everyone in the Korean business world had two different side: their business life and their personal life. For Taehyung, Jin, and Hoseok, it was clear that their personalities were different in both sides of their lives. For me? Not so much. I don’t know where my business life ends and my personal life starts.

Did my personal life include Ahyeon and Byun Hana? That was a scary thought.

“Is it not good?” Hana blinks over her own spoon, half stuck in , and I realize she’s talking to me. I had been stirring the soup for the last few minutes and I hadn’t taken anothe