• 6- ʏ/ɴ •

TAE is still here. He hasn't left.

He's casually sipping his milkshake, stirring it slowly with the straw, eyes fixed on me.

The spoon clinks against the glass, each tap digging deeper into my nerves. Sunlight slants through the windows, catching the small, self-satisfied smirk on his face. It makes me feel uneasy, to say the least.

He doesn't look like he belongs in this rundown spot. He belongs in some high-end bar, surrounded by sleek furniture, the kind of place where the drinks cost more than my rent.

I pull my skirt down again, trying to ignore the tightening in my chest when the weight of his stare only increases.

More customers trickle out, leaving the café emptier. The scent of coffee lingers in the air, mixing with the subtle sweetness of pastries. My shift's almost over.

ROSE has been giving me these looks from behind the counter, like she senses something's off. Like she can feel his eyes on me, heavy, pinning me in place.

I can feel it, too.

The espresso machine hums, but it does nothing to drown out the pounding of my heartbeat, loud in my ears.

Then, TAE speaks, his voice smooth. "Come sit with me."

I shake my head. "I can't. My shift's not over."

His smile widens, slow and knowing. "Almost, though. Won't hurt to take a break."

I grip the counter harder, the cool surface grounding me, but only just. "I'm good, thanks."

He exhales through his nose, still amused. "Come on, Y/N. Don't be rude."

It's not a request. It's soft, almost sweet, but there's something under it, something that coils in my stomach. I glance at ROSE, but she's too busy to notice, lost in her task of stacking mugs.

"I said no," I say, voice a little firmer.

He chuckles, rolling his eyes like it's all a joke. "Jeez, no need to overreact. I'm only asking you to sit."

Am I overreacting? My breath comes a little shaky, but I move. Slowly.

Reluctantly. I take the seat across from him, thinking it's no big deal. He's just a classmate, right?

His sharp blue eyes are locked onto mine, pinning me to the seat.

Something shifts in the air. Something heavy, dark, suffocating.

My body stiffens before my brain even catches up.

He moves-not fast, not sudden, but with that same certainty that makes my stomach twist. His hand lands on my thigh. Firm. The weight of it feels like it's burning through my skin, searing through the fabric of my skirt like a brand, like something I'll never be able to erase.

"Been waiting for a moment alone with you," he says, voice low, lazy.

As if he doesn't feel the way my whole body goes stiff, how I can't breathe. As if his touch doesn't make my skin crawl.

I don't move. I can't. The world shrinks down to this-his hand pressing into my skin, his breath too close, too much. The café feels smaller, suffocating. The buzz of the espresso machine, the clatter of dishes, all of it fades into a distant hum.

My heartbeat is all I can hear.

"You look good today," he says, and his fingers start moving higher-

That's when I snap.

I grab his wrist, nails digging in, and shove his hand off me. I scramble back, nearly tripping over my own feet.

"Don't," I choke out, my voice raw, shaky.

My skin is crawling. My vision's blurring at the edges.

He just smirks, like he's amused. Like this is some kind of game. Like I didn't just feel the world tilt on its axis. "Relax," he drawls, standing up. "No need to be dramatic."

He brushes past me, like nothing happened. Like he didn't just rip the air from my lungs. Like he didn't just touch me when I didn't want to be touched.

He pauses by the door, glancing back.

"We have class today," he says, as if my ribs aren't caving in, as if I'm not shaking so hard I can barely stand. "See you there, Y/N."

The door swings shut behind him, and I finally breathe, but it's sharp, jagged, like I forgot how.

There's something about being touched against your will.

It's not just the act itself-it's how it sinks into your bones, lingers under your skin like a stain that won't wash away.

It's how your body betrays you, freezing when you want to run, locking up when you want to fight. When you want to speak.

It's the aftermath. The weight of it, heavy and suffocating. The feeling that no matter how many times you scrub, you'll still feel their touch, like a ghost on your skin.

And the worst part? They walk away, like it meant nothing.

"Y/N?"

I jump, spinning around too quickly. YOONGI stands there, his eyes full of concern, his brows furrowed.

He's tall for his age, lean, with quiet strength. His dark curls are always a little messy, and his brown eyes are sharp, always seeing more than he lets on. He's still in his school uniform, tie loose, backpack slung over one shoulder. He is in his senior year of high school.

They grow so fast.

He steps closer, eyes scanning me. "Are you okay?"

I force a smile, weak, unconvincing. It's all I can manage.

YOONGI's not fooled, but he doesn't push.

Instead, he opens his arms.

I don't hesitate. I step into him, my arms wrapping around his frame, burying my face in his shoulder. He smells like home. Safe. But it doesn't erase the way Seb's touch lingers, or the sickness curling deep in my stomach.

"I'll be right back," I whisper, pulling away before I lose it completely.

YOONGI's still watching me, his concern growing, but he thankfully nods.

I turn and walk fast, my steps almost frantic, until I'm in the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind me, and I collapse. My knees hit the floor. I clutch the sink, staring at my reflection-wide-eyed, shaken, small.

And then the tears come.

Silent at first, then overwhelming. Like if I cry enough, I can wash it all away. Like I can scrub his hands from my skin, erase his voice from my head.

I can't-I can't believe that just happened.

My chest feels tight, suffocating. All the air left with his hand. I can still feel it. I try to move, but my body's frozen. My skin's crawling. Why didn't I say anything sooner?

Why didn't I stop him?

Was I too slow? Did I somehow make him think it was okay? It feels like there's something wrong with me for not stopping him. Why did I just sit there? Why didn't I tell him to back off before it went too far?

I still feel his breath too close. God, I can still feel his touch.

It's like it's burned into my skin.

. . . . . .

YOONGI had wanted to see my room. He doesn't know I'm sharing it with a man, and I don't plan on telling him. So I lie to him, I tell him I'll show him some other day, that I have class right now.

But, I don't plan on going anymore.

Not after what happened. Everything feels off now. I just don't want to think about it. I don't want to face it, or him. Not today, anyway.

Now I'm walking the long way to my room, feeling heavier with each step. The tears are still there, threatening to break free again, but I push them down, forcing a breath, forcing my face into a neutral expression.

Just a little longer.

When I reach my room, I notice the door's unlocked. That's how I know JUNGKOOK is already here. My stomach churns, but I can't bring myself to care right now.

I wipe my face with the back of my hand, smoothing my hair down as I take a deep breath. I can do this. I'll just smile.

It'll be fine.

With a forced smile plastered on my face, I push the door open, stepping inside. I try to ignore the way my chest aches, the way my heart feels like it's about to break.

"Hey," I say, a little too brightly, my voice cracking just the tiniest bit. "I'm late. Had to take care of some stuff."

I keep my eyes trained on the floor, hoping my face doesn't betray me. It's not like anything happened. It's not like everything's falling apart.

I move further into the room, but then I hear him.

His voice is low, cold. "I don't fucking care, freak."

"Freak?"

The word sits in my mind like a weight I can't lift. It wasn't just the words, it was the way he said it-like he wasn't talking to a person, but to a thing. Something beneath him. Something that doesn't deserve attention.

His words twist, sharp and cutting, and before I even realize it, my eyes are watering again.

I swallow hard, trying to make it stop, but it's like trying to hold back a flood.

My hands shake as I bite my lip, forcing back a sob, and finally, I lift my gaze to him. I want to say something, anything, but the words get lost in my throat. I don't even know what I'd say anymore.

So, I just curl on my bed, hide under the covers and cry to myself.