Slowly, so slowly, he turned around and started making his way down the street, towards his car, away from you. Somehow, his head is both empty and running in overdrive at the same time.

When did it all go so wrong? You had been inseparable since the day you met.

 

First, it had only been a  simple flirtation online, the two of you bonding over books and movies, over your love of cooking and music. His celebrity status only a footnote. Facetime and texting the foundation of your friendship for almost a year. Sending each other songs and pictures all day long, even the time difference no issue as you managed to talk on the phone occasionally, before bed or on breaks. You had received so many silly selfies of the man who, by his fans was perceived as stoic, grumpy even. His gummy smile brightening your days. You had sent just as many pictures back, supportive texts layered over them when you knew the strain of producing, of dancing or simply of existing as a celebrity was getting overwhelming for the rapper plagued by anxiety.

 

Then, you had finally managed to meet up, the oceans between you worth crossing for what had been developing between the two of you. It had only been two days before it was obvious to you that yes, this was a relationship. And it was worth trying, worth the loneliness and the travel. Cause you felt at home when you were together, no matter where in the world, it was home in each other’s arms.  For two weeks, you spent every second of the day cuddled up somewhere watching tv, listening to music or just enjoying each other’s closeness. Laughter and smiles were the main aspect of every day. And then the last few days came, both of you noticing you would have to go back to having only pictures, only phone calls and messages to keep you company. And the kisses turned from giggling and careless to longing, painful and on your last night almost drowning in tears. Both of you heartbroken at the prospect of letting go, even for a second.

 

That first goodbye was the worst, he couldn’t even bring you to the airport, too afraid of being recognized and having this relationship, something that belonged only to the two of you, blown up on social media by his fans. So he said goodbye at home, you almost missed your flight from the many “just one more hug” “just one more kiss”. The travel home was apathetic, punctuated by several texts of “miss u already” sent back and forth. You tried your best not to cry on the plane, but seeing his home country get smaller and smaller, the distance between you two get farther and farther, it hurt like hell. So you put on your sunglasses, turned up your music, and tried to sob as quietly as possible into your hand while you stared out the window, trying to avoid any contact with the other passengers.

When you got home, everything looked dull, the world so much less colourful without his warmth next to you, his smile and his laughter so far away from you. If it would’ve been possible, you would’ve turned around and flown back to him right then.

School never seemed more of a hassle than when it kept you from him. You were only two years younger than him, but his life was so much more that of a grownup than yours. You only had one and a half years left at school, the diploma so close, so you chose to stay, working instead for a future of traveling with your man, with your job and a life full of what you love.

School and work every day were tedious, the strain on both of you from the distance now increased since you knew how good it felt to just be together.   But you got through it.

One and a half years of seeing each other every few months, traveling back and forth between your school and wherever in the world Yoongi was at the moment. You two got through it. When you had your exams and could barely think straight because you were panicking so much, he showed up at your apartment without warning but with your favourite korean snacks. He was there for you, even if he could only stay for a few days that time. And it meant the world.

When they won awards you were there, at your TV, at your laptop, anywhere, cheering him on, watching the boys that had become your family over the years take over the world with their music. When you saw him cry on stage, your heart broke for not being there with him, so you sent him a long text, excited and proud of their achievements, of the work he put in every day and night. And when the award shows were over, you were the second in line to get a call from him, only his parents before you. So you made it through. Made it through the boring days, the lonely nights and the constant goodbyes after having a few days or weeks together. You made it through.

And then, two years after you first met, when you had your diploma in your hand, your key to the world, you moved to him. You had planned to travel after school anyways, so it wasn’t a sacrifice. It was a new beginning. And you two were so happy. You managed to get a job in town very quickly, even though your language skills were still lacking. You loved the work and you loved it even more that you could come home to him.

After almost a year of living together he proposed. It was a normal night, they had just gotten back home from their last tour, the months without him hurting in an all too familiar way. You had been waiting for him at home, cooking his favourite meal, wearing one of the dresses he had bought you and singing along dramatically to some of your favourite songs as he came in. He looked so tired as you wrapped him in your arms, covering his face in kisses as a drowzy smile slowly spread across his features.

His arms holding you tight, he mumbled into your neck: “This is it, isn’t it? This is what I want for the rest of my life.” As he pulled away, a big smile now on his face, he got down on one knee, holding out empty hands. “I don’t have a ring, and you know I lost my heart to you long ago, but will you marry me anyways? Cause it’s always you. No matter how tired I am, how depressed, how stressed. I just want you. Your hugs, your smile, your laughter, that’s what keeps me going when I am too tired to do anything. When touring gets hard and I feel alone in the world, when even the guys can’t help me, you always can. You make me better when I didn’t realize I could recover. I love you with everything I have, with everything I am. If you can take this mess, this overworked idiot who spends most of his time on planes or in the studio, if you can be happy next to me, please. Marry me.”

His speech had had you in tears, falling to the floor in front of him, kissing him with so much love in your heart that it felt like you were choking. Nodding furiously as you couldn’t get out the words, you just hugged him tightly, and so you sat on the floor, both of you crying happy tears.

After that, everything had become so much messier. With the engagement came the expectation of a wedding. And planning a wedding while you’re working and your fiance spends half the year traveling around the world, that’s impossible. So it dragged on. After you had been together for 4 years, you had decided, together with the rest of the group and the managers, that it was time to make it public. This was obviously not gonna go away, and it was better that the fans found out from him than if they found out through rumours and speculations.

An official statement announcing the engagement, a small public appearance together, and then it was done. Millions of fans, who had loved him for years, had supported the band when you didn’t even know who they were, now they knew about you and him. Some of them were welcoming. They loved you for how happy you made him. Loved you for what he said you meant to him. Loved you, quite simply, because he did. But there were others, the ones who had thought they had a claim on the men they idolized, who thought they had a chance at standing by their side the way you did. And they exploded, they started harassing you at work, forcing you to quit your job only a month after the announcement. They spewed hate about you to his face at fansigns, throwing all kinds of allegations about you around online. You tried to ignore it, but it didn’t always work. The wall that the company built around you wasn’t enough, it still got to you. You weren’t used to having to deal with internet trolls the way the guys had been doing for years.

You started going out less, least of all with him. You took a job at the company, becoming one of the staff members to have something to keep you busy. He promised you it would get better, that they would leave it when they saw his disapproval of it, the band’s disapproval and the bans set by the company. But it didn’t. And so the months dragged on, hatred and the insane amounts of attention on you weighing you down more and more.

The arguments had become too much between the two of you. There had been less and less laughter, less smiles, between you two. And then one night, at some gala you had decided to attend with him, trying to have a fun night out and support him and the other members, someone took a blurry picture of you talking to another idol. Because of the volume of the event, your heads had been close together, just to hear each other speak, your hands covering your mouths so that you could talk somewhat privately, his hand on your shoulder to steady himself as he leaned in. But blurry that looked so much more intimate.

It was another explosion, now they were saying that not only were you never worthy of his love, now you were dragging it through the dirt, cheating on him right in front of the public eye.

And he had never been confident. In his music, maybe, but not in himself. He had never felt like he deserved your love, no matter how many times you told him. So it had festered in him. He knew you wouldn’t cheat on him. But how sure was he that you would be happy by his side, waiting for him to come home from tour, from award shows, when you could instead be with someone normal, someone who didn’t have insane fans claiming him and constantly dragging you.

His anxiety had always told him nothing he did was good enough, but now, he was looking at it sober, trying to take his own insecurities out of it. And it didn’t matter anymore if he was good enough for you. It mattered if you were happy with the life, and he could see that you weren’t. It had only been a year of your relationship being public, but you had lost your job, you had lost weight, had lost a spark in you because you couldn’t do anything without being swarmed by fans, or by the people who hated you for being loved by him.

So he had brought it up. “Are you happy with me? Are you happy with this life?” And confirming all his fears, you had broken down crying, a sobbing mess on the floor. Assuring your love for him and your will to make it through this, while also making it more obvious than ever how much you were hurting. You had never expected this. This amount of fame around him, and the kind of attachment his fans have to him.

“Are you happy with me? Are you happy with this life?” How could you be? You didn’t have a life other than trying to exist in the shadows of his. Anytime you dared take a spot next to him, the attacks came from all sides. You had never been good with attention, and this was so much worse than just attention. It was either complete adoration or seething hatred. It was too much.

So you told him.

And he fell silent.

What was he supposed to say? There’s nothing anyone can do. He and his brothers had been pleading with fans in interviews to leave you alone. They had tried everything, even getting some especially vocal “fans” banned from any BTS related events. To little effect. They kept trying but it didn’t seem to change anything.

 

The breakup was quiet, almost clinical. It was better for both of you. You were hurting too much from all the hate, he couldn’t watch you suffer, he didn’t think he was worth it anyways, so you broke up. “Keep the ring” he said. “Keep the apartment”, he said. “I’ll get my stuff”, he said. “We can try to be friends” , both of you had said.

And now here you were, watching the love of your life walk away with slow steps. And all you could feel was empty. Emptiness with the most unbearable kind of pain in your heart.

You watched him walk to his car. Watched him put all his stuff away and get into the car, not turning back once. Then he drove away. And you closed the door and collapsed.