Tangled Realities (Ot7xreader)

Chapter 19

He’s still gripping the edge of the table, knuckles white, jaw clenched so tight his teeth might crack. His eyes, however, are locked on Jin.

There’s fire in them.

“Jin,” Yoongi says, his voice low. Dangerous.

Jin doesn’t answer.

Yoongi’s grip on the table tightens. The wood groans under his fingers.

“Where,” Yoongi says, voice sharp as a blade, “did she go?”

Jin doesn’t answer.

How would he?

Namjoon swallows hard, hands still shaking. He’s the first to move, pushing past them all, heading straight to his computer. His fingers fly across the keyboard, his breath uneven.

Location tracking.

Your phone’s last signal.

A motel.

In the worst fucking part of the town.

Namjoon stares at the screen.

His heart pounding.

And then—

Yoongi moves.

Without a word, he grabs his keys and storms out the door.

You don’t know how long you’ve been lying there when you finally push yourself up, dragging yourself to the small bathroom mirror.

The moment you see your reflection, your stomach drops.

Who is this?

Your eyes are dull, sunken.

Your lips are cracked.

Your body—thinner, weaker, unfamiliar.

Your ribs.

You hesitate, then lift the hem of your sweatshirt.

They’re visible.

You’re not okay.

You look sick.

Your fingers tremble as you press them to your face. Your skin is cold. Your pulse feels weak. When was the last time you actually ate?

A shaky breath escapes you.

You step back, sit on the edge of the bed, and pick up your phone.

Missed Calls:
Namjoon (8)
Jungkook (5)
Hoseok (3)
Jimin (3)
Taehyung (2)

A text from Taehyung.

“Please, just tell us where you are. We’ll fix this. We’ll fix everything. Just come home.”

And from Jungkook.

“Noona, please. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Your chest tightens.

For a moment, you consider it. Going back.

But then—

You shut off your phone.

Yoongi drives like a man possessed.

The GPS keeps glitching, recalculating, but he doesn’t slow down. His fingers grip the wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

By the time he pulls up in front of the motel, his heart is pounding against his ribs.

He steps out of the car, barely even locks it before striding straight toward the entrance. The receptionist barely has time to react before he’s walking past her, scanning the numbers on the doors.

207.

He stops.

Lifts a fist.

Knocks.

Nothing.

Knocks again.

Silence.

Then—

“I know you’re in there.”

Your body stiffens.

You don’t move.

You don’t answer.

Another beat of silence.

Then, the sound of someone sliding down against the door.

Your chest tightens as you picture it. Yoongi, sitting outside.

And then, he speaks.

“…I’m not leaving.”

You press a hand over your mouth, eyes squeezing shut.

He stays.

Refusing to leave.

Refusing to let you disappear.