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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 27 days

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When You Need Me Most

Jeongin x Reader (implied female but can be read as gn!)

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Cheating, Victim Blaming, Mentions of glass shattering

Pt2 Pt3

MASTERLIST

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The day had been longer than usual. Exhaustion clung to your bones as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, your thoughts preoccupied with the idea of a quiet evening in. You hadn’t told your boyfriend you’d be home early today; maybe surprising him and inviting him over for some quality time would lift your spirits. You usually worked second and third shift, so your free time never overlapped with his, and even if it did you spent it asleep. But your boss had graced you with a paid third shift.

And now you got some extra time. You had been extremely busy these past few weeks, and so had your boyfriend. He was a trainee at JYP, and you had met him through Chan.

You had done an exchange program in Australia, met Hannah, who introduced you to Chris since she knew you wanted to work in South Korea; and she wanted you to have a confidant. And one day as he was showing you around his place of work you had run into a timid trainee who was shaking at running into the Christopher Bahng. But when his eyes met yours something had sparked.

These past couple months had made you happy, even if it was rough due to your schedules.

The key turned in the lock with a soft click, and you pushed the door open, expecting the comforting silence of an empty home. You wondered if you should call your boyfriend to come over, or if you'd go over to his. He had to be awake. He was a night owl.

But instead of silence, the first thing you noticed was the trail of clothing leading from the front door to the living room—shoes, a shirt that wasn’t yours, and a jacket that definitely didn’t belong to your boyfriend. Confusion knitted your brows together as you picked up the jacket, the fabric slipping through your trembling fingers as you realized it wasn’t just any jacket -it belonged to another woman. The scent of the perfume staining it making you nauseous.

The apartment was unnervingly quiet, save for the faint sound of voices coming from the bedroom. Your bedroom.

No, it can’t be.

Your legs moved on their own, carrying you down the hall with a heavy heart thudding in your chest. Each step felt like you were trudging through quicksand, dragging you deeper into dread. You felt like throwing up. The closer you got, the clearer the sounds became—soft moans, whispered words, and the creak of the bed. Your bed.

Your hand shook as you reached for the door, pushing it open slowly, hoping, praying that what you were hearing wasn’t real. Praying that it was anything else than what you thought it was. But as the door swung open, your world shattered.

There, tangled in the sheets you had picked out when you first moved in, was your boyfriend. His body was intertwined with another woman’s, her face unseen, their limbs a mess of sinful intimacy.

His lips were kissing places he had no right to be kissing, leaving trails of his betrayal on her skin - on the skin of the female idol trainee you now recognized from the same agency your boyfriend- ex boyfriend - worked at.

The choked gasp that escaped your lips was involuntary, and it was enough to break their trance. They both jolted, eyes wide as they met yours. For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing - shallow, erratic, as if the air itself had been stolen from your lungs.

You couldn't even muster tears up.

"Y/N…" he started, his voice a broken whisper as he scrambled to cover himself -as if modesty had any place here now. "This isn’t-"

"Don’t," you choked out, feeling the bile you had tried to hold back rise in your throat. "Don’t you dare try to explain this to me."

The girl- no, the other woman - had the decency - no audacity - to look ashamed. As if she wasn't aware of your boyfriend's relationship. Everyone in the company knew he was in a relationship due to his inability to shut the fuck up.

She clutched the sheets to her chest, her eyes darting between you and your boyfriend, searching for a way out. But you didn’t care about her; all you could see was him, the man who had just shattered your heart into a million irreparable pieces.

"What the hell is going on?" The question was pointless, rhetorical, but it tumbled from your lips anyway, more a cry of pain than a demand for answers. You didn't even know if you wanted an answer. You just wanted something anything to drown out the unbearable noises you had hooked into every crevice of your mind.

He stood, grabbing his pants off the floor, slipping into them as if getting dressed would somehow make this situation better. "Y/N, listen to me-"

"No!" your screams cut him off. You never screamed. He stared at you in shock. "No, you listen to me! You were in my bed with her! In my home! MY fucking home. How could you do this? Because you didn't want your group members see how royally fucked up their leader is? How much of a piece of shit he is?" You spat, the venom in your voice something you didn't realize you even had stored in you.

For a moment, he looked genuinely remorseful, his eyes softening in a way that had always made you weak. The eyes he gave anytime he did anything remotely wrong. And for a moment, you felt your heart twinge with regret of yelling at him - and for a split-second thought of a life where you both put this behind you.

But then, just as quickly, his expression hardened, and you saw the shift- the anger, the defensiveness. The complete opposite of remorse.

"You weren’t supposed to be home," his tone was accusatory, as if you were the one who had done something wrong. "You never come home early! If you hadn’t-"

"If I hadn’t what?!" you interrupted, your voice cracking as the tears you so desperately didn't want to show spilled over, streaming down your cheeks. "If I hadn’t come home, you’d still be fucking her in my bed? You think that makes this, okay? You would've never told me huh? If I hadn't caught you and this bitch." You turn to her. "Don't think I'm the type to only blame one person. Because it's a two-way thing. You knew he was in a relationship. But you're so desperate that you'd fuck another person's boyfriend in their home? Not even his home?" You laughed without humor.

The girl looked at your ex to have him defend her.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling to the surface. "You’re never around, Y/N! You’re always busy, always caught up in something else. What did you expect me to do? Sit around waiting for you to remember I exist?"

The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the wind out of you. "You’re blaming me for this?" you whispered, disbelief lacing every syllable. "You cheated on me, and now it’s my fault? Because I was busy? You're acting as if you're any freer than I am!"

He didn’t answer, his silence more damning than any words could have been. He simply stood there, glaring at you as if your very presence was an inconvenience to him, as if you were the one who had ruined everything.

Almost as if he would go back to doing just what he was doing if you chose to turn and walk out.

The girl on the bed finally found her voice, though it was weak and shaky. "I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t-"

"Shut up," you spoke not even bothering to look at her. She wasn’t worth your attention. "Just shut up."

You turned back to your boyfriend, the man you thought you knew, the man who had just turned your life upside down. "Get out," you mumbled, your voice chilled. Hard. Unrecognizable even to yourself.

"Y/N, come on. Don’t be like this-"

"GET OUT!" you sounded like a banshee, your voice echoing through the apartment. You grabbed the nearest object—a pillow from the bed—and flung it at him. "Get your shit and get the hell out of my apartment!" You grabbed all of things in range and threw them at him.

He didn’t move at first, stunned by the sheer force of your anger. You had never been angry at anything he had done. So much so that he was almost assured he could've gotten away with cheating if you hadn't caught him in the act but rather he confessed at a later state.

But as you started grabbing his clothes, throwing them at him with a fury that made your hands shake, he finally began to gather his things, muttering curses under his breath.

The other woman quickly followed suit, dressing as fast as she could, avoiding your gaze. Within minutes, they were both at the door, him clutching his clothes, her still trying to smooth out her disheveled appearance.

Before he left, he turned to you one last time, his face twisted with bitterness. "You know, Y/N, maybe if you weren’t so focused on your own shit all the time, this wouldn’t have happened."

"No. But maybe if I had never agreed to date a narcissistic and twisted bastard than this wouldn't have mattered!"

The door slammed shut behind them, leaving you standing in the middle of your once-happy home, surrounded by the remnants of what used to be your life.

His words echoed in your mind, cruel and cutting, each one driving the knife of betrayal deeper into your heart.

You sank to the floor, the strength finally leaving your body as the sobs overtook you. You screamed. Everything hurt- your chest, your head, your soul. It was like the world had crumbled beneath your feet, leaving you to free-fall into the abyss of your own misery.

You had moved to Korea on a whim, but your boyfriend had made that loneliness much better.

Now he was gone, and that feeling overtook you, drown you in a tidal wave of hurt.

But even as the tears flowed, even as you sat there in the ruins of your life, a new emotion began to simmer beneath the surface: anger. But not a normal anger. A white-hot, searing anger. Not just at him, but at her, at the universe, at yourself for trusting him, for loving him.

As you sat on the floor of your apartment with your heart in pieces, you didn't even realize how much time had passed with your sobs as a background noise until your neighbor unsympathetically banged on your wall, yelling curses at you to shut up.

You didn't care at that point, so you chucked the closest thing to you at the wall, a lamp your boyfriend had gifted you as a housewarming gift.

The teal glass shattered against the wall and with it, the last fragments of your composure.

You couldn’t stay here. The walls seemed to close in on you, suffocating, filled with memories that now felt tainted and wrong. Your legs felt like jelly as you pushed yourself off the floor, your mind reeling, but one thought cut through the chaos like a beacon: Chan.

You barely registered your movements as you grabbed your phone and keys, stuffing them into your bag with shaking hands. The tears blurred your vision, but you didn’t care. You just needed to get out—away from this place, away. Just away.

The hallway of your building was empty, the quiet eerie compared to the storm raging inside you. You stumbled down the stairs, not trusting yourself to take the elevator, since you were afraid you might break down completely if you had to stand still for even a moment. By the time you reached the street, your breath was coming in shallow gasps, the cold air biting at your skin as if trying to shock you back to reality.

You hadn't even remembered to grab a jacket.

The walk to Chan’s apartment was a blur. You were on autopilot, the familiar route basically muscle memory from countless visits.

Normally, the walk felt short -comforting even -but tonight it felt endless. Every step was heavy, you felt almost drunk, dragging your feet along the pavement.

When you finally reached the apartment complex, you didn’t bother to announce your arrival. You just pounded on the door, hoping-praying - that someone would be there.

Chan. You needed Chan. He was your rock, the one person who always knew how to make things better, who could somehow untangle the mess of your life with a few words and that steady presence of his.

Even if you hadn't known him through a time of distress, you knew you could count on him.

But when the door swung open, it wasn’t Chan’s face you saw.

Rather it was Jeongin’s.

“Y/N?” His voice was filled with surprise, quickly turning to concern as he took in your tear-streaked face and the way you were trembling like a leaf in the wind. “What happened? Are you okay?”

The words were stuck in your throat, tangled with the sobs you were fighting to keep at bay. All you could do was shake your head, the motion making the tears spill over once more. You wanted to speak, to tell him everything, but the words wouldn’t come. They were buried too deep under the weight of your heartbreak.

Without another word, Jeongin stepped aside, holding the door open wider. “Come in,” he said softly, his tone gentle, coaxing you inside like you were a fragile thing that might break at any moment.

Although he felt anxious now, silently wishing Chan was home.

You were his hyung's friend. While you were closer to Jeongin's age, Chris was by far the closest to you.

Jeongin had met you by accident, when you had come to drop something off at the apartment. And Chris had taken that time to introduce you two properly, then eventually the rest of the guys.

And while you weren't besties with Jeongin to the extent you were with Chan or Felix, who you had latched onto rather quickly, you and Jeongin got along well enough. Well enough to hang out outside of group meetings, and well enough to share inside jokes.

And well enough for him to take a romantic liking to you. One that pained him since he held it in.

But he didn't think he knew you well enough for him to help you through whatever crisis you were going through. Just buy the pitiful sight, he knew you needed someone you had history with. Someone who knew you better than he did. At least he thought.

You stepped over the threshold, your legs threatening to give out the moment you were inside the warmth of the apartment. The familiar scent of the place- clean, with a hint of whatever candle Chan had burning - made your chest tighten. This was supposed to be your safe space, where you came to escape the pressures of adulting, to laugh and talk with your friends. But tonight, it was a refuge from the disaster your life had just become.

Jeongin just barely managed to catch you as your toe caught, catapulting yourself into his arms.

He sunk to the ground with you as your desperate cries came out.

"Why me. Why me."

Your tears were dampening his chest, and all he could do was hold you. He didn't know how long he held you before Chan had walked into the dorm, surprised to see your state of distress, and lifting you into his arms.

Jeongin had lost track of time since he had seen his Hyung carry you as you cried into his shoulder, into his room, in hopes of giving you privacy.

He wondered what was wrong.

What had brought those sad cries of anguish.

The younger boy absentmindedly mixed some sugar into a sleeping tea.

You liked sweet things. Maybe you would be able to stomach this and get some rest.

As he went to knock on the door, Chris opened it up, closing it quietly behind him.

"Is Y/N okay?" Jeongin asked quietly clutchin the mug in his hand.

Chris had a subtle anger behind his calm face. Jeongin had only seen his leader get angry a couple of times. And while it was never directed at him, it was still something unsettling to witness.

"I'll ruin that bastard's career." He brought his index finger and thumb to his nose and rubbed it in annoyance. "The girl too. And not even just for revenge. If they're acting like that as trainees who knows what they'll do when they have more fame." He sighed and noticed the steaming mug in his youngest member's hands.

"Cute." He mumbled pinching his cheek.

Jeongin pulled back instinctively. As he always did whenever his Hyung gave him affection. It wasn't that he hated it - while he wasn't the fondest of physical affection, Chan's was always comforting and reassuring, but since he would never admit that he pulled away and usually that would cause Chan to bombard him even more. But this time his elder didn't instead he started to walk to the living room.

"Hyung?"

"Y/N is going to stay with us for a little. Okay?" It was more of a statement rather than question.

Jeongin nodded, and focused on the steam coming up from the cup.

I hope they're okay...

The door creaked open slightly as Jeongin peeked into it slightly.

You were already asleep, tucked into Chan's bed, your soft snores filling up the quiet space.

You looked small, and sad if it was even possible to look sad in your sleep.

Who hurt you like this... Jeongin wondered as he shut the door.

He sighed and went to the kitchen to put the mug away, a small frown as he dumped the contents.

Regardless, I'll be there for them. Chan hyung is there but...but I'll be there for them too. Because then maybe...

Maybe they'll see me the same way.

After drying the mug he walked towards his room, stopping in front of Chris's door one last time.