Tangled Realities (Ot7xreader)

You used to love coming home.

Even after long days at your internship, when exhaustion clung to you like a second skin, walking through that front door used to feel safe.

Now?

Now, the idea of being home makes your chest tighten.

Because home doesn’t feel like home anymore.

It starts small.

A few extra hours at work, telling yourself you need to catch up—even though you know you’re running on fumes.

Then, you stop taking the bus straight home. You linger at coffee shops, staring at blank animation frames on your tablet, fingers hovering but never moving.

You walk aimlessly through the city, letting the neon lights and distant chatter blur into white noise.

Anything to delay going back.

At first, it’s unintentional.

Your schedule is erratic. The members are busy with their own work, their own lives. It’s easy to slip between the cracks.

Then, you start making excuses.

"I have to stay late at my internship."
"I already ate."
"I’m just tired, I’ll see you later."

You stop answering texts immediately, letting them pile up until replying feels pointless.

Somewhere along the way, you become an outsider in your own home.

Jimin is the first to comment.

"I feel like I haven’t seen you in days," he says one evening when you finally drag yourself home after midnight. His tone is light, but there’s a hint of concern in his eyes.

"Just been busy," you murmur, slipping past him before he can say more.

Namjoon frowns at you during breakfast one morning—one of the rare times you actually sit with them.

"Are you okay? You’ve been distant lately."

"Just tired." The same excuse. The easiest lie.

They nod. They believe you.

Or maybe they want to believe you.

Because if they look too closely, they’ll see the truth—

And you’re not ready for that.

You stop spending time in the common areas.

You eat in your room, or not at all. The thought of sitting at that table, surrounded by laughter and conversations that no longer include you, makes your stomach turn.

Even when you’re home, you’re not really home.

You lock your bedroom door. Put in your earbuds. Drown in meaningless work.

You tell yourself you’re fine.

Even as the loneliness swallows you whole.

You don’t sleep much anymore.

Even when your body screams for rest, your mind won’t shut off.

Thoughts spiral. Memories resurface.

You think about your parents. About the way your mother used to run her fingers through your hair when you couldn’t sleep. About your father’s warm laughter that used to make everything feel okay.

You think about your brother. How easy it was to lie to him.

How easy it is to lie to everyone.

You close your eyes and hope for sleep that never comes.

One evening, as you slip through the front door after another long day of avoiding home, a voice stops you in your tracks.

"Where have you been?"

You look up.

Jin stands in the hallway, arms crossed, brows furrowed.

He looks… upset.

"At work," you say simply, shrugging off your coat.

"That late?" He doesn’t sound convinced.

"It’s been busy."

"Bullshit."

Your heart stutters.

Jin is rarely this serious, rarely this blunt.

"You’re avoiding us."

You swallow. Deny it.

"I’m not—"

"Don’t lie." His voice softens, but his eyes don’t waver. "Talk to me."

For a split second, you almost do.

The words sit on the tip of your tongue, clawing at your throat, begging to be spoken.

"I don’t think I belong here anymore."
"I feel like I’m fading, and no one sees it."
"I think I’m falling apart."

But you can’t.

Because if you start talking, you won’t stop.

So you force a tired smile.

"I’m just tired, Jin."

He watches you for a long moment.

You wonder if he sees through you.

But then, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. But… don’t shut us out, okay?"

You nod.

You lie.

And then you walk away.

The next morning, you leave early.

You don’t even know where you’re going—you just go.

Anywhere but here.

Anywhere but home.

Because the longer you stay, the more suffocating it becomes.

And you’re starting to think—

Maybe they’re better off without you.