Tangled Realities (Ot7xreader)

You knew today was going to be bad the moment you walked into the office.

There was a shift in the air—something tense, something suffocating. Your supervisor’s tone was clipped, the usual friendly atmosphere of the studio replaced by the frantic sound of keyboards clicking and hushed voices.

A deadline was looming.

And you were about to crash right into it.

You had been working on the animation sequence for weeks. Every frame, every movement, every tiny detail—carefully adjusted, refined, and polished. It was the one thing keeping you grounded, the one thing that still felt like yours.

But today, when you submit the final render, the screen flickers—glitches.

Your heart stops.

Something is wrong.

The animation doesn’t sync properly. The layers are off, the shading is inconsistent, and the movement—choppy, unnatural, almost robotic.

This isn’t what you submitted.

This isn’t your work.

Panic surges through you as you frantically check the files, but your worst fear is confirmed.

The wrong version was saved.

The completed version?

Gone.

The first yell cuts through the silence like a whip.

"What the hell is this?!"

Your supervisor, standing over your desk, eyes burning with barely concealed frustration.

You freeze.

"This is what you’ve been working on for weeks? This mess?" He gestures at the screen, voice rising. "We’re presenting this in an hour, and you give me this unfinished disaster?"

Your throat is dry. You try to speak, try to explain, but the words lodge in your chest.

"I—I think the file got corrupted—"

"I don’t want excuses!" he snaps. "I want results!"

The entire office is staring now. Coworkers exchanging glances, some sympathetic, some not.

You swallow hard, gripping the edge of your desk to steady yourself.

"I can fix it." Your voice shakes. "Just give me a little more time—"

"We don’t have time!" His words cut through you like ice. "You’ve wasted enough of it already."

Something in you crumbles.

You nod silently, blinking back the sting in your eyes.

And then he walks away.

Just like that.

Like you aren’t even worth another second of his time.

You don’t move for a long time.

You can feel the weight of the stares, the murmurs of conversation behind you, the unspoken "That must suck."

No one says anything to you directly. No one asks if you’re okay.

They just… move on.

You stare at your screen, at the mess of broken frames and misplaced sequences, and for the first time in a long time, you wonder—

What’s the point?

Your work is ruined.

Your efforts? Wasted.

And worst of all?

No one even cares.

By the time you get home, you feel like a ghost.

The house is loud—Jimin and Taehyung laughing in the kitchen, Hoseok humming a tune, Jungkook yelling about a video game.

Warmth. Noise. Life.

But none of it reaches you.

You walk in, slipping off your shoes, waiting for someone to notice the slump of your shoulders, the way your eyes are rimmed red from holding back tears.

No one does.

"You’re home early," Namjoon comments from the couch, barely looking up from his book.

You swallow hard. "Yeah."

That’s it. That’s all.

You could tell them. You could say, "I messed up today." You could say, "I think I’m drowning."

But why bother?

They didn’t notice when you left early this morning.

They didn’t notice when you barely spoke last night.

Why would they notice now?

You nod stiffly and retreat to your room, closing the door behind you.

And this time, you don’t even expect anyone to come after you.

You don’t turn on the lights.

You don’t check your phone.

You just curl up on the bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of failure settle into your bones.

It shouldn’t hurt this much.

It shouldn’t feel like your entire world is caving in over one bad day.

But it’s not just one bad day.

It’s the accumulation of everything—the loneliness, the distance, the way you’ve slowly become unseen in your own home.

Tears slip down your cheeks before you even realize they’re falling.

You don’t bother wiping them away.

Because no one is here to see them anyway.