Shooting Stars || (BTS x Reader) Soulmate AU

~26

The mother was holding a knife, and she was inching her way towards Y/N.

"Jungkook?" Y/N asked, her voice pulling me out of my trance. I hadn't noticed I was holding her hand too tight. I might've cut her blood circulation if I held it tighter.

I loosened my grip. "I'm sorry," I apologized.

I looked at the mother, and this time, she lowered her hand. She looked at Y/N, sleeping peacefully. If that woman tried to hurt Y/N, I swear...

"You're of no use to me dead." I heard her say darkly.

The only thing I hated about my ability was that I couldn't control any of the memories, no matter how hard I wanted to. I can only watch the past memories replay, but I can't alter it.

But if I could, then maybe I could've spared Y/N a whole lot of trouble and pain.

3-year-old Y/N got ordered around by her mother, acting as a slave. Whenever she did something wrong, she got sent to a refrigerator bigger than the comfort rooms in Big Hit. My heart broke whenever I saw her struggling to keep warm, sometimes passing out or drifting to sleep just to escape from the cold.

She got locked up in the fridge for 3-4 hours, depending on how big her "fault" was, when it was just a harmless one. The more she struggled against the punishment, they added longer hours.

By the time Y/N turned 5, I learned that the father got promoted, and he was now an official member of the government. Hearing that made me sick to my stomach.

The two started inviting politicians and other government officials in their home. And whenever they did, it was the refrigerator for her, though she didn't do anything wrong.

And so it continued...until the last time she got locked up.

The mother was dressed in a tight red gown complete with red heels. She was beautiful, like Y/N, but I had grown to resent her despite her being a blood relative.

"But...I don't wanna go back there!" 9-year-old Y/N screamed.

"You have to," the mother replied, snatching Y/N's arm before she could run away, like all the countless times she had. She tilted her head, as if Y/N's plea meant nothing. "Would you rather end up dead if they find out?"

Y/N glared at her. "I'd rather end up dead any day than be locked up in a stinky cold fridge--" Before she could say another word, I gasped as a strong hand spanked against her right cheek.

"You ungrateful brat!" The mother yelled. "How dare you say that when I've done nothing but give you a roof under your sh*tty head."

If I wasn't holding Y/N's hand, I would've done all my willpower to manipulate this woman's current state.

Without another word, she stomped off, dragging Y/N behind her, who was sobbing and screaming, calling for help. I was devastated once more as the servants paid no attention to her.

I closed my eyes and tugged Y/N forward. We were almost at the climax, I knew it was coming.

We passed through a secret door in the hallway, a door camouflaged and blended with the wallpaper. It led to spiraling stairs that looked like it never ended.

Like all the times we passed, I carefully guided Y/N to the correct steps.

When we reached the large, heavy door of the fridge, we were just in time to watch the mother throw 9 year old Y/N on the cold floor. The door shut loudly behind her, and the mother slid open a compartment, her cold eyes glaring.

"This is where you belong. Mr. Im will come pick you up when the dinner's over," she regarded her daughter with cold and sinister eyes. "Until then, if I hear a single noise from you, you can find yourself rotting away in this room. Forever." And with that, she closed the compartment, walking past us and climbing back up the steps.

Through the metal door, we heard sniffles and whimpers. 

We passed through the door easily, just like the many times we had, and my expression softened when I saw her state.

I saw Y/N hugging her knees to her chest, struggling to find warmth and comfort. She was only wearing a varsity jacket and black leggings, but it still wasn't enough for her to keep warm.

I sat down beside the past Y/N, with the present Y/N on the other side. She hasn't said a single word from the moment she called my name. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." She answered.

"It was hard for you, wasn't it?"

"...It was." Her voice was barely a whisper as 9-year-old Y/N kept on crying. I reached my hand out to stroke the child's hair, and I desperately wanted her to know that I was here, someone was willing to comfort her.

"Do you know what's happening to them now?"

She shook her head. "Not since...Not since the car accident."

I remembered glimpsing an image of a car accident in one of the glass shards. It was a car accident that involved both her parents.

Changing the subject, I couldn't help but ask, "Who is Mr. Im?"

"He's the family gardener." At the mention of the name, I felt Y/N relax. "He was the only person I considered family while living in this house. He gave me special treats and snacks whenever they wouldn't give me. He was patient with me and listened to all my problems. On special occasions, he would drive me around the neighborhood. He made sure I wasn't scolded too much, and sometimes even places the blame on himself just to save me. He's an Odd too."

"That's a relief," I exhaled, leaning against the wall. "I was hoping that...you'd have at least someone who takes care of you."

There was silence once more as Y/N spoke again. "Jungkook...when we're done with this... Can you help me find a boy? Or, rather, a man?"

I looked at her with question in my eyes. "Sure. As long as you have a description in mind."

"Oh," she said in a small voice. "I don't really remember much from him. But...he was there with me at the car accident, too. All I remember is that he is Mr. Im's grandson. And I was holding on to that boy as I saw the events of the crash."

"All right. When does the accident happen?" I asked her.

She faced towards me, her blindfold still in place. "Tonight."