Home Away From Home

As you may know, after losing a great chunk of my sanity, my mind has inevitably turned into my worst enemy. It is a terrible experience, seeing as it technically controls every fiber of my being, further leading me to mentally spiral out of control. These intrusive thoughts guided me to acquire little-to-no sleep in the last few nights, especially after that way-too-specific conversation with Bogum the other day.

It is quite a difficult task to get a goodnight's sleep to begin with, but my usual case of overthinking has doubled—maybe, even tripled. I feel an immense amount of guilt for those that must deal with me on a daily basis, solely because of the fact I've evolved into a very grumpy, monstrous version of myself as of late.

The abnormal, wacky- atmosphere that swarmed throughout ninety-nine percent of the student population at Kwang Academy only worsened my mood. This week, everyone—mostly, the girls from every single grade-level—grew chattier, which easily equates to a higher amount of gossip floating around. Compared to my first day at this nosy school, things had amped up astronomically. Either something is up, or something is different, but since it's an average day, I couldn't pinpoint what the was going on.

Across the metal picnic table, Joohyun focuses upon a stack of binders and folders relating to her duties as class president. She mentioned something about coordinating a future dance, but once I heard the word 'dance', my ears tuned the rest out.

I, on the other-hand, am scanning the entirety of the crowded, open courtyard that was bustling with what-seemed-like endless conversations. School had just wonderfully ended, but the spellbound looks on all my passing classmates' faces never seem to budge.

I hate to disrupt her, but I just had to know:

"Why is everyone acting so weirdly this week?" It was not an unusual occurrence to see so many students still lingering on school-grounds, but something switched. "Did anything happen or am I just imagining things?"

She emits a deep, hefty sigh, shoulders hunching in dismay of the topic at-hand. She doesn't want to get into it, but the reason why was unbeknownst to me. At least, she's acting normal, unlike the other freaks around here.

"Didn't Bogum tell you?" Tell me, what?

I blink. "I don't think so."

"News had spread about Seojoon transferring here earlier than expected." I could almost burst out laughing at the unenthusiastic and depressing tone she was using. "He was supposed to start next semester, but it turns out his first day is next Monday."

Well, that makes perfect sense as to why everyone appears so psychotically bewitched and distracted. How foolish. Indeed, it was reminiscent of my first day here, but I fear that the craze had quadrupled due to Seojoon's unforgettable title of an elite basketball champion and of course: his everlasting teen-model popularity.

"That's considered news?" I fight the urge to roll my eyes, but I don't succeed. "You're kidding, right?"

"I wish I was," she grumbles, flipping through yet another pile of papers.

"I'm sure Seungwan is losing her ," I snicker, visualizing the fangirl planning a geeky welcoming parade for Seojoon's timely arrival.

"Oh, God, don't remind me. You should've seen how she was acting in the student council room during lunch," she says. "No offense to her—I love that girl to death—but when it comes to Seojoon, she is the definition of crazy."

"It's not like he's going to notice her or the rest of the student body's efforts to get his attention."

"What do you mean?"

"He'll be too busy following you around," I crack up at the sheer thought of future-Joohyun's many unamused, disgruntled, and irritable facial expressions that flashed through my mind in quick spurts.

"Why'd you have to remind me of that?" She glowers.

"Because it's amusing to see you suffer," I grin—one that she couldn't help but slightly reciprocate despite the glare that she's trying so hard to execute.

Sarcasm oozes out of every syllable uttered, "I'm so glad I'm able to humor you."

But doesn't the possibility bother you?

What possibility?

The slim chance that Seojoon could steal her heart.

You're ruining the moment, brain.

Oh, so it does bother you.

Me? Jealous?

How could I be jealous when she generally doesn't even like the guy?

Feelings change.

You know all about that, don't you?

I bow my head, pinching the bridge of my nose with my fingertips. It's one thing or another these days. It'd be nice if I could just hold off on overthinking for a while—about everything in general.

"Are you okay?" As hyperaware as I've become around her, I slightly jump at a familiar sensation—more so, the tips of her fingers gently brushing against the topside of my hand. It was so comforting and feather-like that I almost overlooked it. Compared to the other times she's touched me or held my hand (which was surprisingly a lot of ing times), the rhythm of my beating heart rose to even scarier degrees. Besides the nervous drop in my stomach, the sensation feels unusual; all tingly, fuzzy, and warm. However, she had quickly withdrawn, pretending like she hadn't done a thing once I practically jolted out of my seat.

But I didn't want her to pull away.

I cursed myself at the thought.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I foolishly answer. "Sorry about that."

I eye the flawless shape of her hand, absentmindedly commemorating the way it'd always fit perfectly in my own.

Do you even hear yourself?

You just get worse by the day, huh?

How pathetic!

"Okay," she says, nodding. "Did you hear what I said though?" I'm thankful for her great timing towards diverting the topic. I was extremely close to descending further into yet another inward mayhem—one that was already pissing me off.

"Not really," I reply apologetically, shaking off the rest of those haunting thoughts. "What is it?"

"Remember what I told you about student government already planning for Prom?" She restates, albeit with less pizzazz.

I nod my head. "Isn't that like three months from now though?"

"Yes."

"Then, why are you starting now?"

She squints at my idiotic question.

"Because," she drags on, "It's necessary to begin the planning process months in advance."

"I guess." It's best to not question the infamous, all-knowing class president.

"Anyways, what are the chances of you going to it?"

Just like that, I switch back to my normal self upon hearing such a ridiculous question. It was my turn to squint at her seemingly hopeful countenance as I attempt to pinpoint whether that was some sort of joke or not. Like, come on, a whole boring- school dance? Just because I've grown to like socializing a little more, that doesn't mean I'll attend one—one as grueling as Prom, no less.

"I think you've known me long enough to know that the chances are much lower than low." That question of hers deserves a good laugh. "Like, in the deep, deep negatives type-of-low."

She huffs, then attractively runs a hand through her hair. Before that could affect me, further plummeting me into another long- exposition about her flawlessness, I look away. It was safe to assume that she's disappointed by my flat answer, but it's not like she should be shocked.

"I expected as much." What was the point in asking, then? "What's wrong with attending a dance, anyways?"

I feel it coming—more so, her limitless attempts towards convincing me otherwise.

"Everything." It was that simple. "The fact that it's Prom is worse. It's repulsively fancier than your casual fall or winter dances. And that's what sets it off from the rest."

"You never fail to be a little dramatic, hm?"

"At least, you got yourself an honest answer." It was bluntly put.

"That's true, but can you be more specific?" She pauses, appearing thoughtful. "Is it simply because you hate dressing up so formally? Or is it also the crowded, rambunctious atmosphere that you despise?"

"Both reasons apply, but after suffering through one of those debilitating dances at Yuna High back in freshmen year, I realized that there is so much more to loathe." An instant chill strikes down my spine as soon as I envision myself stuck in another of those suffocating tuxedo's for over three hours. Those things are brutal, I tell you!

"Did you go with someone?"

"No."

She flings her hands in the air, protesting, "Well, that's why it was so boring!"

"You may be right, but just hear me out because that's not all," I say, clearing my throat. "For instance, half of the music . The cheesy- themes of some of these dances are dreadful, like what the is up with the Starry Night and Masquerade themes that everyone feels the need to repeat? Something unique would be nice."

Due to my unexpected mini-rant that I hadn't seen coming either, she throws her head back and bursts out into a fit of laughter. I subconsciously do the same, only because hers is so, so contagious. And here I go observing her, once again. I must look like a pathetic fool as I study the most genuine grin that graces her lips—the same one I like to admire. But that unexplainable feeling from before returns—so different from the rest. It worries me.

She's dangerous.

"To be fair," she says, smiling. "Not only do those themes match the formal attire, but they're also supposed to create a romantic setting."

" romantic settings. Not everyone is in a relationship," I object.

"I know, I know, but just think about it for a second; you don't believe dances are fun at all?" Who wants to be smushed inside a jampacked gymnasium with little-to-no space to even breathe, dance, or relax? It's a total sweat fest.

That one dance I attended at Yuna High is a vague memory of mine, but one that I somehow still recall. But overtime, I learned that most of the memories I do remember are from recent years rather than the distant past. It makes sense. Since I didn't meet Sunmi and Taemin until sophomore year, I didn't have any friends. Besides the fact that I wasn't totally antisocial nor depressed back in freshmen year, I went to that lame- dance to attain some high school experience.

Like I told Joohyun, I didn't have a date. Pretty sure I didn't ask anyone because 1) I hadn't liked anyone, and 2) I just didn't give a . Between the high probability of rejection and unnecessary sulking that'd ensue because of it, I'd rather not put in the effort towards conducting a thought-out proposal. However, I hadn't realized that going alone made everything even more.

"Don't you want to go with someone this year?" She asks moments later.

"Not really," I say a little too quick—so quick that I don't let myself second-guess it. But that's inevitable, no matter how much I want it to be the truth. I could feel my raging heart. It was the way it was talking, translating differently than the words I just uttered—disagreeing. I attempt to grapple and calm it down as it crashes against my ribcage, threatening to explode out of my chest.

What makes things worse is the fact that I swore I saw Joohyun frown, but it was most likely because it was such a dull, pitiful response. It lasted for a millisecond before she forced it away, wiping it off her features like she didn't want it to be seen nor noticed. Whether my observations were right or wrong, my careless response irks me.

Should I rephrase it or change my answer? But what would be the point in that?

It's not like I'm letting her down. With the way I'm a continuous source of annoyance for her, it's more than obvious that she doesn't like me like that. If anything, she'd be with someone that looks like Seojoon, yet encompasses the opposite of his personality—more mature, honest, intelligent, caring, patient, and all the other stellar characteristics that I don't—

Enough. It shouldn't even matter.

"Actually, scratch that." Oh, God, why on earth am I changing my answer? "I mean, I don't know. Maybe." I unnecessarily admit out of nowhere, shrugging my shoulders.

She hums, nodding. The clouded look in her eyes shifts into an emotion that I'm not too in touch with.

Nevertheless, I take it into account, mulling over it before asking,

"Do you want go with someone?"

She doesn't say anything right away, her sweet gaze instantly meeting mine. That previous flash of emotion that I noticed before had vanished, and what took place was a ghost of a twinkle in her eyes. opens and closes, hesitating or deciphering, seeming like a fish out of water. I subconsciously smirk out of amusement and slightly lean forward to hear what she has to say in return.

But it never comes.

Because unceremoniously embedding themselves into the scene was someone that I least expected. Nonetheless, their untimely entrance and interjection caused a jolt of aggravation to present itself—one I did not know I had until now.

"Hey, Joohyun." It was Kim Suho, the other persistent guy. If you've already forgotten who he was, he's one of Joohyun's many admirers. Over two months ago, he asked her out on a knelt knee and a bouquet of flowers in-hand. Yep, that's right; she rejected him, even with all the hardcore effort he put into the presentation.

"Suho. Hi." Joohyun greets the guy with a forced smile because I knew all-too-well what her genuine one looked like. It's also a wonder to witness how normal she acts—more so, the way she perfectly sustains a casual approach to a guy that she rejected in the past. At least, she didn't make it too obvious that she was uninterested in both him and his presence. "What brings you here?"

"I was actually looking all over for you. I even asked Seungwan and Yeri, but they had no clue where you could be—" He laughs out of presumed nervousness, and I wonder who's at fault—me or Joohyun's stellar beauty. "—Anyways, do you mind if I talk to you for a second or two? Alone?" For a split second, Suho glances at me, then quickly looks back at Joohyun with one of those cocky yet restricted grins. It probably wasn't supposed to come across as one, but in my eyes, it did, and it sent a negative chill down my spine. "It's mostly about the math club competition that's happening in a few days. There're some complications with the arrangements. I was hoping you can help me out."

Can't forget that Suho is the leader of the math club. He really the life out of Joohyun and I's previous conversation, and this one just deserves an exaggerated yawn to accentuate how boring it is. To be frank, I couldn't hold back any longer: I tug my attention away from them and onto something much more interesting, like one of the six binders that Joohyun has on the table.

"Can't you just ask me about it now?" He wants to be alone with you, Joohyun. His 'question' is just an incentive.

Unlike her, his sole presence isn't what's bubbling up this underlying dismay. Rather, it's the fact that I'm being noticed, yet I remain unacknowledged as if I was a nonexistent entity. If you ask anyone, they'd say it's disrespectful and rude, sending off the wrong vibes. He sure as hell knows that he can sort out the club's 'complications' right here and now, but thing is, my presence is ruining it. His obvious ploy towards getting her alone is downright weird, so much so that it makes me want to gag. Seriously, I'm starting to feel bad for Joohyun. Just imagine dealing with this sort of treatment from a bunch of random, drooling dudes that attempt to get with you but end up miserably failing because they're either boring, creepy, or want the wrong things.

Perhaps dragging Suho through the mud is too much. The guy likes my best friend; it only makes sense that he despises my presence and persists on avoiding the fact that I'm sitting across from her although he desperately wishes I weren't.

It was unintentional, but my ears catch onto Suho's words:

"Sorry, am I—uh—interrupting something?" Yeah, kind of. His heartbroken eyes frantically dart between Joohyun and I. A question of that degree is so expected that neither of us shrivel up. But we do exchange glances, none too awkward, but laughable. I give her a distinct look—one that sent the right memo—and she receives it.

"No, not at all." She laughs uneasily. "I got to pick something up from the student council room anyways, so I'll meet you there, okay?" She begins to gather the mess that is her belongings, all sprawled across the table. Thankfully, there's no wind to blow it away this time. But as she does so, I cautiously eye the emotionless look on Suho's face, despite the nod of understanding. He walks toward the building, not sparing me a look, and that's when it becomes clear that something inside me doesn't trust him. I don't have any knowledge of his reputation with girls (not that I give a ) but if he's after Joohyun as intensely as he is after being rejected, then it spikes my intrigue. "Sorry that I can't walk with you today, Tae."

I smile.

"No need to apologize," I rise out of my seat to help her pack up. The overload of things she needs to carry is overwhelming. "Do you want me to help you bring some of this upstairs?"

"I'll be fine." She smiles a little in reassurance. Then, she flings the sleeve of her bag over her shoulder, but not without struggling with the binders now securely tucked against her chest. Her arms were so full that it was comedic. I clutch onto the last folder, but I don't lend it out to her. Instead, I veer around the table and skirt around Joohyun so that I was facing her back, somehow placing the folder into her severely overloaded bag. At that, she mutters a, "Thank you."

She sighs harshly, then looks over at me once I return to the opposite side of the table—more so, to grab my backpack.

"See you tomorrow, then?" She asks.

I nod wordlessly, but something bugs me, itching to be released.

Joohyun sends me one last smile before she begins to saunter begrudgingly towards the double-doors of our school. However, as she passes by, I rest a calm hand on her shoulder, careful not to knock her work out of her arms. It catches her attention, causing her legs to halt in place. She stares back expectantly, raising her eyebrows.

"Have you ever been alone with him before?"

"I have." She nods, temporarily side-eyeing my hand that remains upon her shoulder. "Why do you ask?"

"He seems unpredictable." He's more than that, but that's the gist of it. "I don't trust him."

"Don't worry." She enigmatically snickers, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "I can handle myself."

"Right." I glance downwardly at my unmoving hand, then decide to remove it before it becomes too questionable. "By the way, what's your answer to my last question? You know, before Suho interrupted?"

Another bewildering gleam takes over her eyes like a dreamy haze. It was so brief, yet it posed many thought-provoking questions that are too difficult to answer.

"About going to the dance with someone?" She reiterates.

"Yeah."

The slyest smirk touches her lips as she reuses the answer that I gave her:

"I don't know. Maybe."

Both mystified and attracted, I watch her leave.

Could that mean...

No. No way.

As I continue to muse over her words, a feeling of emptiness takes her place.

Before I allowed it to consume me, I throw my backpack over my shoulders and decide that I'll swing by Park's Cup O' Coffee (Bogum's grandparents shop) to complete the overwhelming stack of homework that I have.

That is, until my phone's ringtone goes berserk. While I search and retrieve it, I ponder who it is. I rarely receive phone calls if it's not Aunt Kim asking if I was on my way home or Jimin inviting me to quadruple wheel with him and the gang at Sunset Plaza.

But it was neither of them.

My eyebrows raise at the name that flashed upon the screen, waiting to be answered. I don't waste any more time, picking up the call.

"Rose?" I ask.

"Hey, Taehyung!" Her voice is slightly muffled. "I'm so glad you answered. Are you still at school by any chance?"

"I am." She called at just the right time. "What's up?"

"Do you mind meeting me in the music room really quick?" The question sounds edgy and apprehensive, judging by the shake in her tone. It makes me wonder if something's gone wrong. "I need to talk to you about something important."

"Sure. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Thanks!" She hangs up.

Without further ado, I spin around on my heel and head towards the school, once again. As I do, I start to wonder what she wants to talk about. It was quite a random request but I'm partially unsurprised at the fact that she's summoning me to the music room. Because that's when I recall those piano practicing sessions that I oversaw several times prior. After we exchanged phone numbers the final time we met up, I hadn't seen her around.

It's like she disappeared.

But now she was standing before me, a pretty face that I hadn't seen in a while. However, she appears all frantic, antsy, and panicky; a great contrast from how she spoke on the phone moments ago. The fearfulness in her eyes is plain as day. Her hands are locked under her chin as if she were pleading. At that, I couldn't help but slightly worry that something serious did go wrong. And now that I think about it, she did mention that her piano competition was around a month after Halloween, so isn't it coming up soon?

"Rose, are you okay?" I question, eyebrows knitted. "What's wrong?"

"I..." She trails off, slightly vocalizing her panic but trying incredibly hard to contain the emotion. It's clear in the way she's now pacing across the vast music room like a psycho. "I'm panicking."

"Yeah, I can see that," I respond, eyes following her repetitive back-and-forth maneuver. It's like I was watching a live tennis match at a reduced speed. "Can you calm down? What's going on?"

She stops in front of the grand piano; the same one she's conducted her piece numerous times in the past. Then, she brushes a lock of hair behind her ear nervously.

"The piano competition is coming up soon."

"Yeah, I know," I nod, then conduct an educated guess: "In a few weeks, right?"

She nods her head. It's as if every spoken word or movement made reeked with anxiousness. Does she need some words of encouragement? Is she doubting herself before the big day arrives? But if she was so comfortable performing before, then why the sudden freak out session?

"It's okay to be nervous, you know," I step closer and stand by her side. She eyes the piano keys in a slight daze. "After the few times I've heard you play, I truly believe that you'll do just fine."

"It's not that I'm nervous." If only she would stop being so vague and start explaining. "I..." She hesitates for what-felt-like the fiftieth time this afternoon, but I remain patient. "I need your help, Taehyung."

"My help?" My face scrunches into confusion.

"Do you remember me telling you that it was a duo competition?"

I nod in a gradual, slow maneuver, recalling those exact words a few weeks ago.

"Well, my partner..." No. She's not going to say it. "He's unable to make it."

My mouth stays shut, lips practically zipped. Her hands clasp and twist together.

"Taehyung," she says barely above a pleading whisper. "I—"

"You brought me here to ask me to take his place?" It comes out filled with hostility, but it wasn't intentional. My mind short-circuited long before I asked that question. Frankly, I understand why she'd want my help. Before the accident, I had played piano my entire life. I may be rusty, but my ability to play never faltered (not like I've tried but I've taken lengthy breaks before). Besides, I've observed her practice many times. I've read the music sheet. I know everything there is to know.

"I did."

"What kind of answer are you expecting?" I made sure that I replied more calmly this time. "I've explained to you many times why I no longer play."

"What, that you feel disconnected from it?"

"Yes."

"Isn't there always a reason behind why you feel disconnected from something?" Intrusiveness returns to ruin everything. "What sort of experience caused such a thing?"

My head tilts. "It's none of your business."

She flinches, then slightly frowns.

"Of course, it isn't." She bows her head and takes a seat on the piano bench, slouching over. "You have the wrong idea. I'm not forcing you to help me."

"And I'm simply telling you why I won't."

"Okay." Her voice failed to remain leveled as it shook and broke. I grind my teeth, ultimately feeling a wave of sympathy wash over me. It crashed, more so. It's difficult to dismiss the guilt that's steadily eating away my selfishness. She's a friend—a good friend—and she's having a hard time. But I can't let her step out of line and destroy all that I've built up. Because I don't know what would happen if I were to reunite with something as impactful as the piano that sits in Aunt Kim's guest room. Just thinking about it makes me feel like I'm drowning. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, or angry, or upset. I just don't know what else to do."

"Have you tried finding someone else?"

She looks up, our gazes locking. "The competition is two and a half weeks away. I've been practicing for more than a month now. No one can learn the piece and perfect it in that small window of time. I'm asking you because you've watched me play the keys, you've read the entire music sheet, and you have a lot of experience playing."

"I understand. But I've already told you that I can't." She faces away from me and over towards the broad window that shines light upon the instrument's surface. "I'm truly sorry."

"It's fine. I get it." She raises a hand, swiping it across her pale cheek. My heart pangs. If only, I was helpful. If only, I wasn't so broken inside. "I'll figure something out." It's scary, but she feigns the slight cheerfulness in her tone. She forced it, only hoping that she can trick her mind into believing it. But she can't. I know my rejection pains her. "Again, sorry for calling you here to ask you of something like that. It was stupid of me."

"It wasn't." How can she act okay so suddenly? Do people really have the capability to perfectly cover up their true feelings and emotions? "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

It's a dumb question, but I don't know what else to say.

"No, but I might as well call it off." bobs. I press my lips into a thin line. God, since when did I start giving a ? "I'll just—uh—sort out the entry fee with my parents then pay them back."

"How much was it?"

"Like, ninety bucks." That worsened the situation for me.

I sigh. "They don't refund it to you if something comes up?"

"Nope." She chuckles, but she was far from amused. "It's whatever."

I bite my bottom lip, ruminating in silence.

"Taehyung." She rises off the bench. Her sad eyes latch onto mine. "You're not obligated to stick around or do anything that you don't want to but can you do me one favor?"

"Hm?" I detest this growing feeling of confliction.

"If you change your mind in the coming days, just call me."

Like I said before, I'm afraid to ruin everything that I've worked hard to rebuild. I'm scared that I'll end up shutting everyone out, again—that's when it worsens. I'm in fear of falling back into that hole of depression and loneliness. Because what if I can't climb back out? What if I revert to the way I was during the summer? It's frightening to think about; to wonder. And I can't help but overthink. I know I'm not the same person I was a few months ago, but the fact that I once was meant that there's a chance of repetition.

If you ever change your mind, just call me.

That simple sentence intruded my thoughts for the entirety of the walk home. I couldn't shake it away. It irked me. To consider doing something also meant having the capability of doing it but I don't know if I can.

Could I do it alone? Am I able to walk up those stairs, enter that guest room, sit down in front of the piano, then play the keys that threaten me?

Hell, what am I thinking? I can't do it alone.

But can I do it if she's beside me?

If—

"Taehyung."

Aunt Kim's stern tone obstructs my thought process as soon as I walk through the front door. It's a rare occurrence for her to be home at this time, but here she was. She's standing at the end of the stairs, leaning against the wooden railing. Her signature, inviting smile doesn't grace her features, but instead, a faint frown did. Her arms are crossed over her chest, like she's either about to scold me or demand me to do something. But that's when I spot the small, once-crumpled up slip of paper in her left hand, causing me to swallow harshly.

She found it, but how?

"We need to talk."

A/N: Props to Home Away From Away from the Final Fantasy 7 Remake soundtrack for being a great drive towards finishing this chapter. Are you surprised to see me? I think this is the earliest I've ever updated since the last. I'm actually proud of myself. But my inspiration is really kicking this month, so I'm going to keep it going. I don't have much to say about this chapter besides the fact that it's setting up for the future of the story. Like every little part and segment within this chapter is going to evolve and lead us to the end. I'm very excited for what's to come. I got a lot in store. Plus, next chapter is going to have Joohyun's POV. There's lotsss to unfold there, despite not being able to see the continuation of Taehyung's conversation with Aunt Kim.

But other than that, what do you think about the chapter?

I appreciate you all for reading, voting, and commenting. It makes my day. :] Love you, hope you enjoyed it! <3