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[writing4bts-blog]

Broken Together Part 1

By: Ash

"How the hell did we end up all together?" Jimin asks out of the blue, breaking the quiet hush that had settled over the living room in Seokjin's spacey and welcoming home. "It sounds like a bad joke," Yoongi says bluntly, lifting his head from where it was buried in Jimin's hoodie to comment on his question. "You know. An anorexic, a depressive, and a suicidal walk into a bar..." "This isn't a bar, Yoongi hyung," Taehyung teases lightly, causing the black haired boy to roll his eyes. "Whatever," Yoongi grumbles, hiding himself in Jimin's chest again, closing off the others as he dissolved into his own little world. Jimin absently runs one of his hands through the elder's hair, lightly threading the strands through his fingers, not stopping even when Yoongi mumbles that he'd acknowledged Jimin. "How did this happen?" Namjoon asks, causing a thoughtful silence to fall over the room as everyone gazed around at each other and tried to remember how they all met. "Hell if I know," Seokjin chuckles, shaking his head. "I'm just glad the house isn't so empty and cold anymore." "I'm glad that I can sleep and eat better," Jimin adds in, a content smile working its way onto his face. "I'm glad that I'm free," Taehyung muses, a faraway look in his eyes, and Jungkook intertwines his fingers with Taehyung's. "I'm glad that I'm not crippled with anxiety twenty four seven," the youngest adds softly, which causes Taehyung to pull him into his chest, not so quietly fanboying over how adorable his boyfriend was. "I'm glad that I'm not killing myself slowly," Hoseok sighs, sinking into the couch. Yoongi lifts his head from Jimin's chest, and everyone looks to him, wondering what he'll add on to their little discussion. "Y'all cheesy as fuck." This causes everyone to bust into laughter, the serious mood dissolving into a storm of smiles and laughs, the lingering sadness chased away with its tail between its legs. Silence returns slowly, but no longer is the silence terrifying and suffocating. The silence has become warm, almost welcoming, and nothing to be afraid of. They still preferred filling the quiet with words, chasing away the fears that never really left, but no longer did the silence send them reeling and breathless, terrified and desperate. "I love you guys," Hoseok says randomly, but everyone knows that it isn't very random. "I love myself too," Yoongi mumbles, but only Jimin hears him, so only Jimin laughs. "He said some smartass comment about loving himself, didn't he?" Hoseok grumbles, and Jimin nods his head, bringing back the laughter that had faded away not long ago. Silence falls again, and everyone is content. It was hard to believe that barely six months ago, all of them were alone, afraid, and unaware of the friendship that they would soon stumble upon. For the most part, it wasn't intentional. And it started with a group therapy session, an underground dance event, and quite a few accidents.

[writing4bts-blog]

Music Box

By Ash

This fan fiction was inspired by the Japanese Blood, Sweat, and Tears MV. There are several mentions of self-harm and suicide. The story is not based off any theory that I’ve seen, and a few elements have been added to create the finished product. Hope you enjoy it!

Through the crack in the door he could see the old music box, fallen over and broken, much like he was now. The cold tile floor pressed into his side, as if the jacket around his torso could no longer seem to provide for him the warmth he needed.

He almost wondered how he got here, lying on the tiled floor of the bathroom, staring at the fallen music box through the crack in the door. But he knew exactly how he got there, why he was there, and why he just wanted to forget it all. So he focused on the little music box to distract his mind from the unwanted thoughts creeping up on him.

The thought of getting up to fix the fallen box sickened him, so he remained still, praying that his dizziness would fade and his heart would cease to race so quickly, as he was beginning to worry that his ribs would crack from the force with which his heart must be hammering against them.

It was strange, he supposed, how his heart worked so hard to keep him back from the brink of death when he'd already jumped.

His arms ached and his hands and feet were numb, but he did not remember injuring them or feeling them fall asleep. He curled his knees closer to his chest as his gaze remained on the fallen music box which he observed through the crack in the door.

The once vibrant and bright colors painted on the little box seemed to swim off the wood and into the air, the fractures in the sides of the box seeming to expand and deepen, splitting apart his vision and his world.

Through the haze engulfing him, he could hear the weak voice of the music, singing steadily on in repeat, powering on even though it felt as if the world was ending.

The recorded track skipped and paused at random, the age of the ancient box showing as it tried desperately to finish the song. Notes and voices thrashed through the air, clinging desperately onto their last bits of life, fighting with a force he could not seem to replicate within himself.

His eyes started to close as he stared at the box, tracing the outline of the opened lid in his mind, wondering how long ago he emptied the little orange bottles lying open next to the box, the words on the labels blurred and the white lids discarded besides them.

His eyes fell upon the blades next, and he exhaled a shaky breath, hoping that the skin of his brothers wouldn't fall victim to the sharp edges like his had. At the mere thought of it, the many scars on his arms and stomach screamed with pain, even though many had long since healed.

The tiles of the floor seemed to shift and change underneath him, the chilled tiles mirroring the bumps and ridges of the truck bed he once slept in alongside his friends and brothers. For a fleeting moment he clung to the memory, the reassurance, but he banished it from his mind and the familiarity dissolved, leaving him trembling on the bathroom floor once more.

He closed his eyes, shutting out the vibrant colors that warped and twisted in his vision, but he could not gather the strength to block his ears, and he submitted to the shaking melody that filled the air, letting go of what little he had left.

The little box let out one last gasp of music before the voice and the melody died along with the boy lying on the bathroom floor, drifting away from this world and into the next.

~~~~~~~

Kill me softly Close my eyes with your caress I can't reject it anyway I can't even escape anymore

||Blood, Sweat, and Tears - BTS||

~~~~~~~~

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[writing4bts-blog]

Born Singer

By Ash

I always loved going to my best friends’ concerts. They always let me go in for free, usually getting me a decent seat.

Sometimes I’d catch them seeking me out in the crowd, grinning and winking when they spotted me, making all of the ARMYs around me go crazy.

Today was special. They were doing the first of their “2015 BTS Live Trilogy: Episode I, BTS Begins” concerts.

So far, they’d performed perfectly. They opened with their song “Jump,” and now the concert was coming to an end.

I was as excited as everyone around me. I mean, who wouldn’t be? Watching as your best friends achieve their dreams was an amazing feeling.

I watched in anticipation. They’d refused to let me know what song they would be concluding with - they even kept it a secret from the public.

They’d performed “Miss Right” as one of the two encore songs. The second one was, so far, still a mystery.

There was a hush as the seven boys arranged themselves onstage, standing in a circle, facing inwards.

My brow creased as I tried to remember what song’s choreography started like this. None came to mind.

The lights went down, and the glow of thousands of ARMY Bombs filled the arena. I caught them all looking around, marveling at the beautiful sight.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then the large screen behind them went dark, and suddenly displayed words.

“Born Singer.”

My eyes widened. I remembered them mentioning singing and releasing this song when they were younger, around the time when I met Jimin and eventually the rest of BTS.

“I’m a born singer, a little belated confession, I swear.”

Jungkook’s voice was angelic, taking my breath away as I stared down at him and the other boys in shock.

“The mirage that always seemed so far away is now before my eyes, it’s here.”

I sang along under my breath, knowing the singing verses of the song by heart. I was the first one that they showed this song to, all the way back in 2013. They were so proud, having successfully parodied the original song and created something that meant everything to them.

“I’m a born singer. Perhaps an early confession.”

Taehyung took over as Jungkook lowered his microphone from his lips, his deep voice filling the stadium. My eyes closed on their own, taking in the sound of his voice. But I opened them again, watching the boys in silence.

“But I’m so happy, I’m good.”

A small smile crossed my face, and my eyes grew misty as I saw their eyes shining with unshed tears. This meant the world to them, and to perform this song live to thousands of people who love them must have been a very powerful moment.

“Suga!”

Namjoon’s prerecorded voice boomed through the stadium, and Yoongi raised his microphone to his lips upon hearing the cue.

“The very first stage we stood under the name Bangtan, I revisit how we felt about our first stage 3 years ago.”

I smiled, remembering the very stage Yoongi spoke of. Their debut stage, years ago, before they’d grown large enough to attract this kind of attention.

“Still I’m nothing different from a rural Daegu rapper but, I wrote the word ‘pro’ on top of 'amateur’.”

I watched as Yoongi took a breath, his eyes flickering over the crowd and over his bandmates. They all wore smiles, and he pressed on.

“While rapping and dancing on the stage I wanted so badly. I feel yet alive, the tiresome trip to work and back home.”

I heard many ARMYs singing along softly, but others remained still and silent, allowing the Yoongi’s voice to be the only sound in the arena.

“I can withstand such troubles because my people are watching me. Because even if my body hurts, the cheers come rolling in.”

There were scattered cheers at his declaration, and for a split second I saw his face stretch into a smile. The others smiled as well, looking fondly around at their ARMY.

“Before and after debut difference lies on the boundary between idol and rapper. Living on, my notebook’s still filled with rhymes. In the waiting room and between performances I hold a pen and write the lyrics.”

I laugh lightly, remembering how many times I saw him writing furiously in a notebook, his face twisted in concentration. Sometimes he would get so wrapped up in his own little world that literally anything could happen around him and he wouldn’t bat an eye. We once had a game where we would see how much distraction we could cause before Yoongi noticed what was going on and started yelling at us.

“This is how I am, did something about me change before your eyes? Damn! Shit, I’m still the same. I changed, you say? What? Go and tell them.”

Yoongi took a quick breath, before finishing his rap.

“Without change, I keep my essence, I’m still rapperman. Unchanging since 3 years ago. I rap, and sing, I’m out.”

He lowered the microphone from his lips, and one of his hands moved on its own, rubbing underneath his eyes.

Jungkook sang again, his voice giving me chills just like it had before.

“I’m a born singer. A little belated confession, I swear. The mirage that always seemed so far away is now before my eyes, it’s here.”

Jin raised his microphone, his eyes darting around at the crowd, looking a little nervous, but it melted away as he heard the ARMYs begin to cheer for him.

“I’m a born singer. Perhaps an early confession. But I’m so happy, I’m good.”

The last note of his verse hung in the air as Namjoon began to rap into his microphone.

“Truthfully, I was afraid, I said I’d show them all but I was afraid of proving myself. The fact that a kid who grew up on pens and books is now surprising the world, I dunno.”

I couldn’t help the smile that overtook my face again as I remembered how smart Namjoon was. He certainly had grown up on books and pens, and it showed in how he talked and acted. But all the same, he was Rap Monster, and he definitely had surprised the world.

“I was afraid I’d stand asymmetrical to the world’s expectations, in case I betray all those who had faith in me. I straighten my heavy shoulders and go up on my first stage.”

Namjoon took a quick breath, using the momentary pause to look out at the audience, the glow of the hundreds of ARMY Bombs reflecting in his eyes.

“During the brief static of the moment, I steady my breath. People I’ve been watching are now all watching me. Those I looked up to on TV, right now they’re beneath me.”

A surge of pride raced through me as he rapped. There was no doubt that he most definitely passed many he had looked up to before he became a part of BTS. He and the band were huge stars, known all around the world.

“Uh, like a kaleidoscope, the one chance act without a moment to brush past had begun. 3 year’s battle with the mic doused in blood and sweat evaporates in 3 minutes. I was merely 0 seconds but I pour them out clearly, I’m fucking real!”

His voice raised to a shout as he used the English curse word, and then fell back into his previous rhythm as he continued on.

“'Hey, kid. What’s your dream?’ Mine is to become a rap star, can’t you feel? And the moment it drops, those cheers, yeah, I could read your mind. I could read your mind, just smiles instead of question mark.”

I grinned as he rapped the words used in their debut song, answering the question that they asked of people all around the world when they released their debut song.

'What’s your dream?’

The feeling of pride returned when it finally sank in that they’d made it. They were well known. They were famous. They’d accomplished what they set out to do and more.

“The members patted my shoulder wordlessly. It feels just like the day before yesterday, but 20 nights have passed already. And let the haters on me. It’s a day job they’ve always been at.”

I hear his confidence as he rapped, almost challenging those who hated on him and the rest of BTS. His face displayed a smirk that fell away as he continued on.

“While you were teasing the keyboard, I fulfilled my dreams. Sunglasses, hairstyle, I know why you ridicule me. In any case, it’s me who’s gone further than you at age 20.”

He allowed himself to smile again as his arm dropped to his side, the microphone falling away from his lips.

“I’m a born singer. A little belated confession, I swear. The mirage that always seemed so far away is now before my eyes, it’s here.”

Taehyung’s voice filled the air again, and he did his best to smile out at the crowd. His eyes shone with tears, and upon seeing it, I could barely prevent my own tears from falling. They’d come so far.

“I’m a born singer. Perhaps an early confession. But I’m so happy, I’m good.”

Jimin sang this time, his eyes closing as he hit all the notes, not a single bad note passing through his lips. When he finished, he glanced at Hoseok, who raised his microphone to be level with his mouth.

“The days we’ve run through, the days we’ve experienced together. How we became one mind in 3 year’s time? I’m drenched with the blood and sweat I’ve spilled.”

His eyes flickered over the crowd as he rapped, but they soon turned to the six boys onstage with him. I smiled as the boys’ faces stretched into grins, encouraging Hoseok.

“After the performance tears leak through. Every moment I make sure not to lose my integrity. To always be myself, so I don’t embarrass the me from the beginning.”

His words only reminded me of how strange it was to see my close friends become different people once the cameras were pointed at them. They kept their core personality traits, but they often exaggerated parts of themselves or omitted pieces of themselves completely. It always felt like watching them act in a play, portraying someone who wasn’t exactly who they were.

“So, we go, we go, we go. Higher, higher, higher.”

The seven of them pivoted, facing outwards, taking in the glow of the ARMY Bombs and the smiling faces of their fans. Each of them had eyes wet with tears that they did their best to restrain.

Instead of singing the lyrics, they all lifted their microphones and pointed them outwards, signaling for the fans to sing.

Thousands of voices sang as one, repeating the lyrics the boys had sung earlier.

“I’m a born singer. A little belated confession, I swear. The mirage that always seemed so far away is now before my eyes, it’s here. I’m a born singer. Perhaps an early confession. But I’m so happy, I’m good.”

The boys could no longer hold back their tears, and neither could I. The boys and their fans cried as one, reflecting on how far they’d come. They had made it, and now they were known all around the world.

The little, hated band that came from Big Hit Entertainment was now topping charts all over the world and proving those who laughed at them wrong.

Staring down at the men who were my closest friends from among the crowd of their adoring fans, I couldn’t have been more proud of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[writing4bts-blog]

Basketball Court

By Ash

There is only one hoop. It's old and rusting, with the net of the basket frayed and halfway off. It stands over cracked pavement that's still somehow safe to play on, and surrounded by an old, vine covered chain link fence. A single wooden bench sits on the edge, its wood starting to rot and its metal pieces rusting. The small basketball court is hidden in a grove of trees, which surround the court on all sides. The court is old and forgotten, a secret clearing in the center of the trees. Every day, a single girl comes to the court, jumping the fence to get inside. She always holds the same small, black backpack, which contains a basketball, her phone and headphones, and a set of journals and pens. Every day she places her bag on the bench, takes out the basketball, and starts practicing alone. The ball swishes through the hoop periodically as her headphones blast music into her ears, the phone held steady on her arm by a specially made band. And at exactly two hours after she arrives, she stops playing and sits on the bench, her pen scratching on the page of one of the journals. Another two hours later she gets up and leaves, always returning the next day. It's a long, continuous loop that continues whether rain or shine. And one day, the loop is broken. ~~~~~~~~~ “What's your favorite sport?” The boy tilts his head, considering as he signed the album set before him. “I love basketball,” he decides. “Ah! Basketball is fun, isn't it?” The girl beams at him. He smiles, tilting his head. “Do you play?” “Not on an official team, but I play on this abandoned court a few minutes outside Seoul,” the girl replies with a smile. “It's in the middle of the woods, near where some old abandoned school was. I play there pretty much every day!” “Ah, that's cool,” the boy says with a smile that is no longer forced for fan service. But before the conversation could continue, the girl must move on, and she heads on her way, handing her album to the next boy. The black haired boy considers her for a moment before turning to the fan now before him. ~~~~~~~~~ Leaves crunch as a pair of shoes walk over them, their owner muttering incomprehensible words as he walks along. He stops abruptly, and stares ahead of him. An old, vine covered chain link fence sits before him. Behind it is a basketball hoop, cracked cement, and an old bench. On the bench sits a black bag. It is open, but the boy can see nobody in the area. Then the boy hears the echoes of a bouncing ball, and does a double take as he sees a girl on the court for the first time. She had [h/l] [h/c] hair, and she seems vaguely familiar, but from where he couldn't place, yet he swore she wasn't there a moment before. The boy jumps the fence, and the girl pauses, staring at him in disbelief. “Hello,” the boy greets. The girl removes her headphones, eyeing him with a guarded expression. “Hello,” she replies warily. “Do you mind if I'm here?” He asks. She is silent a moment, but shakes her head. “Not at all. This place isn't owned by anyone.” She smiles at him, her eyes taking in his blue-streaked black hair, loose clothing, and posture, her brow creasing as she watches him. The boy sits on the bench, and pulls out a notebook. He begins to write as the girl practices in the background, and he listens to the clang of the rusting metal as the ball hit it, the swish of the fraying net as the ball passes through it, and the echo of the ball as the girl dribbles across the court. “Wanna play?” The boy looks up at the sudden offer. “What?” The girl is smirking. “One on one. Come on, let's play half-court. Since there's only one hoop anyways.” The boy sets aside his things, becoming competitive as he sees her confident look, drawn in by her taunting. “Bring it on.” ~~~~~~~~ It quickly becomes a tradition. Once a week, or sometimes more, the girl and the boy would meet at the court and play a few rounds of different basketball games. They wouldn't talk much - they would just play. But finally, one week the girl was sitting down when he arrived, and she gestured for him to sit as well. “What's your name?” Was the first thing she asks. The boy smiles. “I'm Min Yoongi. And you are?” “My name is [Y/N] [Y/L/N], pleased to meet you.” There is a pause. “You're in a band, aren't you?” [Y/N] asks after a moment. "I recognize you from somewhere. On a website for music, I think." Yoongi nods reluctantly. “Yeah, I am.” “That's awesome. I was part of a band once, but it kinda all fell apart. Long story very short, I quit. I still write music, though.” She loosely gestures at her bag. Yoongi smiles. “Writing music is fun, isn't it?” [Y/N] nods. “Easier than actually producing it, I dare say. I can't transfer what's in my mind onto paper. And I can't read music sheets.” Yoongi tilts his head. “I might be able to help with that. The actual music, not the lyrics. If you want.” [Y/N] considers him, a smile tugging at her lips. “I would like that. Thank you.” Yoongi nods. “No problem. Now, wanna play?” [Y/N] takes out the basketball and smirks, the same confident look she had the first time she stood before Yoongi and challenged him to a game. “Of course.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Woah…” [Y/N]’s mouth drops open as she listens to the music blasting through the headphones clamped over her ears. “You like it?” Yoongi asks, a little nervous at the reaction that could be either positive or negative. “Like it?!” She stares at Yoongi with wide eyes. “I LOVE it!” He smiles, relieved at her positive reaction to his music. “Thank you. I worked hard.” “You sure did! This is awesome!” [Y/N]’s grin doesn't fade as she moves her head to the beat, beaming. Yoongi watches with a smile, a feeling of pride welling up in him as he sees her enjoy the music he created. “Wow. When you make more music, you have to show me,” [Y/N] announces, removing the headphones. “Should we play now?” Yoongi smiles, setting aside the headphones and phone. “Yes.” [Y/N] pulls out the basketball and tosses it to him, grinning. ~~~~~~~~ Weeks pass, then months. Without fail, [Y/N] is there when Yoongi arrives. Be it midnight or noon, she is always there. It was almost as if she never left. [Y/N] chats away with Yoongi as they play one on one basketball matches, most of which end in ties. They learn everything about each other, and become the closest of friends. Yoongi becomes accustomed to her not knowing recent songs and slang, often teaching her and bringing new music every time. He never questions anything she says, knowing that she just doesn't listen to much music nowadays… or, at least, that's what she claims. It was strange to him, a songwriter not listening to recent music, but Yoongi doesn't question it. Her phone is several years old as well, and she admits when asked for her number that the messaging and calling doesn't work at all, as she couldn't afford to pay the bills. Slowly but surely, Yoongi falls for her. He often finds himself in a daze when she talks, not focusing on her words but rather the sound of her voice. Her smile makes him smile. He spaces out during practices, and instead of dancing he'd be thinking, which would result in him getting scolded by the others and being told time after time to pay attention. [Y/N], on the other hand, grows just as fond of Yoongi, but forces herself to not become overly attached to him. As she'd learned previously, all good things must come to an end. So she allows herself to befriend Yoongi, but not once letting herself blurt out words she was dying to say, knowing he would end up being hurt by it in the end. At last, a year passes since the first meeting on the old court. And [Y/N] is acting strangely. “Earth to [Y/N]!” Yoongi waves a hand before her face, and she jumps. “Sorry,” she says sheepishly, looking down at her feet. “I spaced out.” “It's fine,” Yoongi replies, knowing full well what it was like to space out on others. “You're lucky we weren't playing - I could've scored a dozen points by now!” She laughs, but it sounds forced. “Feeling alright?” Yoongi asks, a little worried by her strange behavior. “Yeah. It's just… a year has passed since we met. Can you believe it?” [Y/N] asks, smiling. “Wow. It's been awhile, huh?” Yoongi grins. “I'm glad I met you, though.” “Me too,” [Y/N] replies. “Hey, I have to go early. Is that alright?” “Yeah, it's fine,” Yoongi nods. “I have to run sometimes, remember?” “Yeah. ‘Bye, Yoongi!” [Y/N] grins, waving at him cheerily as she scoops up her bag. “See you,” he replies, waving as well and beginning to head in the opposite direction. “Oh- [Y/N]-” Yoongi turns, intending to speak with the girl, but she already vanished. Yoongi blinks in confusion, knowing she couldn't have jumped the fence and hurried off that quickly. “[Y/N]...?” ~~~~~~~~ All that is there is her bag. Yoongi frowns, a little confused and slightly disappointed. Why wasn't she here? Where was she? He approaches her bag, and discovers a note pinned to it. A note addressed to him. He pulls it off, his eyes scanning over the words written in messy handwriting. Hello, Yoongi. Thank you for always coming whenever you could to play basketball with me. It was a lot of fun, and I very much enjoyed it. However I won't be coming back anymore, for many reasons. But I left this bag here, for you. It's yours, and so is everything in it. The phone passcode is 1993. Oh, and one final thing. I'm sorry. -- [Y/N] Confused, Yoongi opens the bag, taking out everything inside. The bag contains the basketball, three journals and an assortment of pens, a phone and its charger, and a folder of newspaper clippings. Yoongi sits on the bench and opens the folder of clippings, flipping through them as his heart drops to his stomach. The popular girl group from XYZ Entertainment loses a member as their lead vocalist quits. Former girl band member sues XYZ Entertainment. Former XYZ Entertainment lead vocalist loses her lawsuit. [Y/N], the ex-lead vocalist of XYZ Entertainment’s girl band, dies in a car accident. Yoongi’s heart nearly stops beating from shock and disbelief. He leafs through the clippings, desperately searching for dates on the articles. Dec. 15, 2012 Feb. 26, 2013 April 5, 2013 Jun. 01, 2013 Head spinning, mind unable to fully comprehend what his senses are saying, Yoongi sets aside the clippings. He pulls out the first notebook. It is a bright, beautiful green, and on the cover, in neat block writing, are written the words “song lyrics.” He opens the notebook and flips through, staring at the lyrics that were painstakingly written, edited, and finalized. He can almost hear the music in his head, and imagine the choreography for each and every completed song. The second notebook is the same, but this one had a white cover. While the first book had happy, upbeat songs, this one was somber. The lyrics are more deep and dark, and the beats of the songs that he can imagine were slow and steady. The final notebook, however, is a diary. The cover is black. Yoongi reads into the mind of the girl he played basketball with, seeing a side of her he didn't see before. The dates are all old, from at earliest 2009, and the age stated for the girl in that year was sixteen. As the dates grow older, Yoongi reads as she goes through her life as a trainee than an idol, watching as she becomes angrier and angrier with her company until she finally has enough and storms from the building, declaring that she was quitting. He reads as she struggles to dissolve her contract and sues the company for overworking and poor treatment of their trainees. He reads about her loss of the lawsuit. And he reads the final entry, on the date stated on the newspapers as the day of her death. June 01, 2013. I lost. I'm still in shock. I've been going into the woods daily now, to write here, on this old abandoned bench. I think they should put a basketball court here, so I can play. I love basketball. I've been watching my old band work, despite the fact that they all refuse to speak with me anymore. They're doing well. I've also watched new bands be created. There's one being made by Big Hit, the company I almost joined and regret not joining. It's a group of seven boys, and they're all amazingly talented. I will watch their debut and growth with happiness, and hope that they don't end up like me. Bangtan Sonyeondan, fighting! I hope you are loved by fans all over the world! I'm off topic. After I'm done here, I am going to go and head home. I have my small bag - my pens, my journals, my basketball… they need to put a court here, I swear. I would pay for it. Hell, I can see it. That old twisted tree could be a hoop; the bushes could be a fence; the ground filled with roots could be pavement. This old bench could be restored, and the area made into a secret basketball hideout. I would pay for that. Ah, but I can't. I have no money. My company was my only job, and I regret that. Long hours, grueling practices, next to no pay, and more… I couldn't take it. Plus, it sounded like we would never debut. I was so shocked when the band actually debuted last year. If anyone ever reads this, never join that company! It is hell! Don't do it! Go to YG, or Big Hit, or even JYP! Just don't go to XYZ! Maybe I'll go to Big Hit. I have songs I would like to produce, but they need more than one person… maybe I can find a new band. Ah, those songs… I would love to see them done and released to the public. But I might never see it. Oh well. Well, it's getting late. I'm going to head out. I'll return to this place tomorrow. Like I always do. Be back soon, little clearing! -- [Y/N] Yoongi’s hands shake as he finishes the final entry. She never returned to the clearing the next day. She died in a car accident on her way home. He had been playing basketball with a ghost. His hands shake so violently, he could barely turn to the final page. The final page of the last journal holds a note, a note addressed to him and written in fresh ink. Dear Yoongi: Thank you. You helped me a lot. You put my mind at rest and let me move on. I was stuck in the same loop, repeating my last day over and over again. You helped me break the loop and eventually move on. I promise that I'll see you again someday. Somehow. This isn't the final goodbye, but a simple parting of paths for a little while. Thank you for letting me finally rest in peace. With love, [Y/N] Yoongi sits silently, staring in front of him at the rusting basketball hoop. Two droplets of water land on the paper before the notebook is closed and slipped back in the black bag sitting at Yoongi’s feet. The old basketball court is falling apart. And as Yoongi watches, the hoop fades into an old, twisted tree, the cracked concrete becomes a dirt ground riddled with roots, and the chain link fence dissolves into bushes and old, weathered tree stumps. All that remains is the old, rotting wooden bench he sits on, the metal pieces of which are rusting. He stands, shoulders the black bag, and leaves the area, refusing to let the forming tears fall down his cheeks. ~~~~~~~~~ The clearing is old and forgotten. But every few days, a single, black haired boy will visit, sit on the rusting bench, and stare. Stare at the area which used to be a basketball court that gave him some of his most precious memories. Most times an open notebook will be before him, his pen scratching across it as song lyrics write themselves. Occasionally, he will rap along with what he's writing. And sometimes, if you look just right in the light, you can see a girl sitting besides him, her head resting on his shoulder as they stare at nothing together, faint music playing from the old phone that always sits besides them. ~~~~~~

[writing4bts-blog]

Kingdom of Kilorn

By Kira

Chapter 2

Hwen

That leaves Hwen, led by Minho, the corrupt province overrun by poverty and crime. Due to its lack of natural and technological protection from the demons, raids are common in Hwen. Hyojin has turned down Minho’s requests for assistance multiple times causing many conflicts between the two provinces.

“Someone sound the warning bell!”

“Get the hunters!”

“Run away! Just run!”

The city square is a mess. People running around screaming and trampling each other. I look over the streets from my perch on a building trying to spot the demons. Why today? The day I decide to try my hand at pickpocketing the wealthy folk of this rotten province.

I spot them. The black masses running rampant through the marketplace. I grab my makeshift daggers and bolt across the rooftops.

I jump off a roof and land in a crouch on the street. One to the left. It spots me. The beast starts running at me fangs baring, red eyes wild with fury. I duck to the side, rolling underneath its talons and slash upwards with my dagger. The demon dissipates into a dark mist.

There’s a loud crash from the next street over followed by an annoyingly large amount of screaming. These things just don’t stop.

I run over to the next street and my eyes widen. A huge winged beast stands in front of me, and riding on it, a demon with a long spear in its hand. I’ve never seen anything like it before. I begin to back away, when I hear a little voice.

“Help me!” A little boy sits crying in the alleyway, the demon standing between us.

I stop in my tracks, eyes locked on the boy. All my instincts are telling me to run, abandon the boy. But something stops me. The familiar look in his eyes. I throw my dagger at the demon. Bad decision. It lets out a deafening screech and turns to face me, its eyes boring into my soul.

Run.

And I do. The winged demon takes off into the air and tails me through the narrow alleys. The sounds of alarms blaring and people screaming are completely overwhelmed by the horrible sounds coming out of that monster’s mouth.

“Agh, just shut up already!” I scream into the air. The demon appears to have taken that as an insult and all of a sudden I’m being shot at with spears. I thought it only had one of those. I was wrong.

I run into a dead end. So much for that plan. I start to scale a building wall, spears still raining down on me. One grazes my side. Another just misses my head. Sparks fly from the spears. Electric? I reach the top of the building and run across the rooftop looking for anything that might help me.

The old factory at the edge of the city pops into my mind and I connect the dots. Bingo. I dive off the roof, tuck into a roll and come up on the ground standing. Breaking into a dead sprint, I make my way towards the building.

Behind me the demon screeches again. Well, at least it’s persistent. Another smoky black spear lands by my foot and the electricity crackles. My throat is burning and my chest tightens, begging for air. The factory comes into view, I sprint harder and throw myself into the building. Looking around frantically, I spot what I’m looking for: a big gray tank with a huge sign of a fire with a large X over it. Perfect.

I open the valve of the tank and smell gas flooding out of it.

Run.

I run for my life, as far away from the room as possible making my way towards a back exit. The dragon crashes into the factory room just as I reach the back exit.

I hear the current crackling from the demon’s spears.

“Oh boy-” A final crackle and the gas ignites. The explosion sends me flying out of the room and onto the ground outside. The impact knocks the breath out of me and I struggle to suck in air. My ears are ringing. Pain racks my body. Every move hurts. I force myself to sit up, clutching at my side which is still bleeding from the demon’s spear. I look up.

“No way. That’s not possible…”

My eyes widen as I see the demon rider approaching me with a spear in its hand. I can’t move. The demon raises its spear, preparing to attack. A gunshot. It dissipates revealing a tall, muscular man. His dark eyes are trained on me.

“What’s your name, kid?” He holsters his gun.

“Min Yoongi,” I manage to get out between breaths.

The man nods his head.

“Come with me.”

[writing4bts-blog]

Kingdom of Kilorn

By Kira

Chapter 1

The Kingdom of Kilorn. A land consisting of three provinces: Bredon, Venzor, and Hwen. They all lived in an unstable state of peace bound together by their one common goal: to rid the kingdom of the demons that had been attacking the nations since their conception. The Academy of Bredon allows the provinces to unite by sending their best fighters to train to become demon hunters.

 Bredon

Led by Geonho, Bredon is the most prosperous of the three provinces and is on good terms with the other two. This is due in part to its isolation from the provinces, natural protection from the demons, and its emphasis on military training for all its citizens. This makes sure neither Venzor or Hwen would ever attack.

I crash through the trees into a clearing and screech to a stop. Eyes narrowed, I scan my surroundings.

“Come out, come out wherever you are…” I say as I circle the area staring into the dark parts of the woods.

Where could he be hiding?

I hear a snap behind me and whirl around just in time to sidestep the dagger flying at my head. A boy with dark brown hair comes flying out of the woods and knocks me to the ground. He runs for his dagger, but I grab his leg, tripping him. Getting to my feet, I grab the dagger and place the point at his neck.

“Checkmate.”

“Not quite.” He grins evilly as he grabs a handful of dirt and throws it in my face. Blinded, I stagger backwards into a tree trunk. I hold the dagger up in front of me slashing randomly at the air. I feel his hand close around my wrist, forcing me to drop the dagger.

My vision is blurry, but I can see his silhouette. I yank my arm free and throw a punch at his left. He blocks and throws his own. It catches me in the jaw and I almost fall over. I spit the blood out of my mouth. Spotting a tree branch by my foot, I grab it and swing it at the boy. It hits him in the arm and cracks. I take the chance to run back into the woods and hide behind a tree.

I see the dagger in his hand as he passes by me. Running out of my hiding spot, I grab his hand, twist it and force the dagger against his neck, almost drawing blood.

“Fine! Fine, you win,” the boy finally says through heavy breaths.

I laugh and pull the dagger away from his neck.

“What is that, my fifth win this week already, Tae? You gotta step up your game, hyung,” I tease.

“Oh, shut up,” he says as he slaps my shoulder playfully. He rubs his neck. “Yah, Jungkook, you didn’t have go so aggressive.”

“Says the one who almost took my head off with a dagger.”

“Hey, you dodged it, didn’t you?” His smile growing into a box-shaped grin.

“Crazy.” I shake my head. “We better get back. My mother is going to go crazy if we’re late to the banquet. She’s still acting like it’s some kind of surprise that we got into the Academy.”

Tae smirks and together we head back through the woods.

 Venzor

Led by Hyojin, Venzor is the province of innovation. Their tech industry is booming, producing new weaponry both to fight demons and improve the daily life of its people. However, due to its shared border with Hwen, Venzor is constantly on the brink of war.

“Jin! there’s a letter for you here!” My mom yells at me from downstairs.

“From who?”

“I don’t know. Come find out!” She’s not usually so excited about the mail and it’s making me nervous. I just hope it’s not another admittance letter from that stupid tech academy she forced me apply to.

I walk down the stairs and find her waiting in the kitchen, letter in hand. It’s stark white tied with a dark red ribbon. Weird, normally schools in Venzor use the national color, green. Intrigued, I grab the letter and open it.

“Congratulations, Kim Seokjin, on your admittance to… the Academy of Bredon?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see my mother’s face drop in disappointment.

“Well, I guess it is prestigious… Nothing like the medical university your brother went to though.” She goes back into the kitchen to prepare dinner.

I stare at the letter. Me? At the Academy of Bredon? They must have made some kind of mistake.

[writing4bts-blog]

The Hunt

By Kira

Kim Namjoon walked briskly down the street keeping his hood up and his head down. Someone had tipped him off that the man he was looking for was hiding out in one of Seoul’s red-light districts, so here he was. He had been tracking this man for two weeks now, but somehow the man had evaded him at every turn. Now he was determined to catch the dealer once and for all.

Chong Hojun, the target. Namjoon had to admit, he was impressed. No one had ever managed to elude him for this long before. He was disappointed that their little game of cat and mouse had to end now, he was just starting to have some fun. But the boss was getting impatient and that meant it was time to get serious.

The sign of the bar Namjoon was looking for appeared. Recalling what his target looked like, Namjoon entered the building and began to scan for any potential matches. In the far corner of the room, a man sat at a booth right next to the back exit. There was a drink in his hands, he was zoning out, eyes on the table, his dark hair covering his face. His demeanor screamed everyday customer, but Namjoon knew better.

Trying not to draw attention to himself, Namjoon made his way to the bar.      

“What can I get ya’?”

“Just a beer.”

The bartender turned to grab Namjoon his drink.

Namjoon took a glance at his target. His demeanor had completely shifted. He was tense, fingers drumming on the table, eyes flicking side to side. He knew that Namjoon was here for him. Smart guy.

Someone bumped into Namjoon, blocking Hojun from my view.

“Excuse me.”

He shoved the apologizing man out of the way. The booth was empty, and the back door open. Namjoon pushed through the crowd of people trying to get to the exit. He stepped on dozens of toes, not bothering to apologize, his eyes glued to the exit.

“Would you watch where you’re going?” An angry woman glared at Namjoon as he shoved her to the side.

He paid her no mind and ran out the back door. It led into a dark alley. A dead end.

A loud crash.

Next thing Namjoon knew, he was on the ground, the back of his head throbbing from the impact of the glass bottle. He got to his feet unsteadily and chased after the man who had attacked him. Hojun ran back into the bar and made for the front exit.

“Move! Move, move, move!” Namjoon yelled as he ran through the crowd again trying to catch up.

He made it out onto the street and broke into a sprint after his target.

The boss is going to kill me if I don’t catch him.

Namjoon ran faster. He turned left onto a bridge, still about a hundred feet behind Hojun. He tried to catch up, forcing his legs to move faster. As he crossed the bridge, another man appeared in front of him blocking the way.

Eliminate anyone standing between you and your target.

Namjoon grabbed the handgun he had concealed under his shirt and flicked the safety. Without slowing his pace, Namjoon cocked the gun, took aim, and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the man in the chest and he crumpled to the ground. Hojun turned a corner and began running down an empty street.

Bad choice.

Namjoon stood still, close enough to make the shot. He racked the gun and took aim again, finger resting gently on the trigger. He breathed in, both hands on the gun, and pulled.

Hojun let out a mangled cry and fell to the ground. The shot just grazed his leg. Blood soaked through his pant leg. He tried to stand, but his leg gave out on him.

Namjoon walked over to the man.

“If you kill me, the others will find you. And they will end you,” Hojun threatened through his clenched teeth.

“If I wanted to kill you, you would be dead already.” Namjoon pulled out his phone, dialed a number and waited.

“Boss. It’s me. I found him. Mhm. He’s right here.” Namjoon looked around him. “We’re in the Gangdong district, just crossed the bridge. Yes. Understood.”

He hung up the phone. “Looks like it’s your lucky day. You get to meet the boss.”

“Look, kid. This is a whole lot bigger than just a couple of traffickers and shitty drug dealers. You don’t wanna get yourself involved. It’ll only end poorly for you.” The man winced at the pain in his leg.

“You know, I don’t remember asking for your opinion. Now if you’d shut the hell up, this experience could be a lot nicer for the both of us.”

The man laughed. “You don’t understand what you’re getting yourself into, kid. But go ahead. Take me to your boss. Keep trying to hunt down the rest of my clan. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I think I’ve had enough of your shit,” Namjoon said eyeing the gun in his hand. He slammed it against the man’s head knocking him cold.

A couple of black vans pulled up next to them and the doors opened.

“Get in.”

Namjoon climbed into the first one and closed the door behind him. The van started moving, driving back across the bridge to headquarters.

He stared at the gun in his hand. He remembered the first time he took a life, how disgusted he was. He couldn’t sleep for days. The guilt haunted him for months. But now? Not a trace of remorse. He did what the clan told him to do, no regrets, no hesitation.

Not like the man’s threats fazed him either. What more did he have to lose? Nothing. He had nothing worth protecting anymore. Even if he lost his life it wouldn’t matter to him. Just as long as he got what he wanted. And he only wanted one simple thing.

Revenge.

Revenge on the people who took everything from him. Everyone. He wouldn’t stop until he had taken down every single person who had ever hurt him.

And I’m only just getting started.

[writing4bts-blog]

We All Fall Sometimes

By Kira

<2Seok>

He had been working on this one move for the past week and it still wasn’t clicking. Sighing heavily, he decided to call it a night. His tired legs were begging for rest and he could feel himself getting more and more frustrated with every attempt.

“Tomorrow. I’ll get it tomorrow for sure,” Jin said, trying to comfort himself. But the little voice in the back of his head that had been bugging him all night still wouldn’t go away.

Who are you kidding? You’ll probably never get it.

Tilting his head back gently, Jin closed his eyes and felt the sweat trickle down his neck soaking his shirt even more. He walked slowly over to the mirror and grabbed his water bottle. His reflection stared back at him chiding him for his inability to get the step down.

“Oh, still here, hyung? It’s getting late though, isn’t it?”

Jin turned to see Hoseok in the doorway of the practice room.

“Mm, yeah. Just getting in some extra practice.” He began gathering his things and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Need any help?” Hoseok started walking into the practice room.

“No, no. I’m fine.” Jin shoved past Hoseok on his way out the door.

“Hyung!” Hoseok called out after him, but Jin was already on his way to the elevator.

Thoughts from when he was practicing began to flood Jin’s head as he walked briskly through the building.

You’re such a disappointment. Can’t get a single dance move after a week of practice. How do the others put up with you?

To say the least, it had been a hard week. He was tired from all the practices and the new choreographies weren’t getting any easier as time went by. Jin had spent hours and hours in the past week trying to perfect the dance. Nothing. He put in the time and effort but wasn’t receiving the results.

"Hopeless,” he muttered under his breath as he pushed the door to the building open. He pulled his hood up and walked out into the cold evening air.

You may as well give up. You’re never going to get it anyway.

Irritated, he pulled open his car door, climbed inside, and slammed the door shut behind him. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel trying to drive the voices away. He felt his eyes burning and tried to blink back the tears. Finally, he rested his head against the steering wheel and let out a deep sigh.

Tap. Tap.

Jin looked up suddenly. Hoseok was at the car window gesturing at Jin to unlock the door and let him in, his breath fogging up the glass. Hoseok climbed in once the door was open and shut it gently behind him.

“Hyung, is everything alright? You seemed a little…on edge before.” Hoseok looked at Jin. His lips pulled into a grim line. Jin paused for a second, thinking, then spoke.

“It’s this stupid dance. I can’t get it down.” He shook his head and looked out the window miserably. “No matter how long I work on it I…I just can’t get it.”

“Hey, it’s no big deal. Sometimes certain moves can be more difficult than the others, it just takes time. Trust me, it’ll settle in,” Hoseok replied a comforting smile on his face.

He’s just saying that. He doesn’t really believe it.

“Yeah, but maybe it won’t,” Jin could feel his frustration rising again. Hoseok wouldn’t understand what it felt like. He was the dance lead after all.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’ll come, I promise. And if you ever need help, I’ll always be right here.”

The two sat in silence. All Jin could hear were his own thoughts. Hoseok’s words of encouragement began to drown out all the other voices in Jin’s head. Until they were only a whisper, and then nothing at all.  And suddenly it felt like a burden had been lifted off of Jin’s shoulders.

That’s right. I’ll always have him.

“Thanks, Hobi.”

[writing4bts-blog]

Fireworks

By Kira

<Hoseok x Reader>

It’s Saturday night and you’re at a street festival with your younger brother, Kim Taehyung and his friends. But in Taehyung’s excitement he and his friends wander off without you and you find yourself all alone by some food stalls. You pull out your phone. It’s dead. And worse, Taehyung has the car keys so you can’t just leave.

“Damn it, Tae! Where did you go?” You swear under your breath at his childish behavior.

“Y/N?”

You whirl around, thinking you had heard your name over all the festival noises. You decide you were just hearing things.

“Y/N! Yah, Kim Y/N!”

Now you’re certain you heard it. You spin around looking for the source of your name. Suddenly, you feel someone’s hands on your shoulders spinning you around to face them.

“Oh, good. It is you! Otherwise this would have been really awkward.”

It’s Jung Hoseok, one of your and Tae’s friends.

“Hoseok! What are you doing here? I thought you had practice with your dance crew.”

He shrugs. “We called it off early.”

You two are fairly close, first meeting through Taehyung, which was the one thing you could thank him for. To be completely honest, you had always admired Hoseok. He was an incredible dancer and an even more amazing person to be around. Cheerful, laid-back and easy to talk to, he was one of your favorite people to be around.

“Well, thank goodness you’re here. Taehyung left me in the dust the moment we stepped into the festival.”

Hoseok laughs. “Ah, that sounds just like him. Guess you’re pretty lucky to have me then, huh?” He nudges you playfully with his elbow.

You brush him off smiling.

“Oh stop, you’re not that special.”

“I see how it is. I think I’m just gonna go home then.”

He turns and begins to walk away in slow motion. You laugh as you watch him go.

“You know, this is the part where you call my name, begging me to come back,” he calls over his shoulder.

“In your dreams, Jung Hoseok!”

He turns around and walks back towards you.

"Well, where to?” He asks, looking around at all the stalls.

“Let’s try everything!” You grab his hand and begin to lead him to the first booth.

The two of you navigate the festival together, trying all the foods and Hoseok teasing you when you failed miserably at the games.

After a while, exhausted and thirsty, you decide to take a break. You sit down on a bench in the park next to the festival and wait for Hoseok to meet you with the drinks.

It’s springtime and the trees are in full bloom, the best time for a festival. Lanterns hang from the branches, covering the peaceful pathway with little circles of color. Couples walk by you, hand in hand enjoying the perfect evening. A shadow of longing creeps over your heart.

3rd Person POV

He comes back with the colas and the two of them sit in silence for a while as they drink. Y/N opens her mouth to speak but is cut off by a huge bang. Hoseok nearly jumps off the bench at the sound. Y/N can’t help but burst out laughing.

“Yah, stop lau-”

Another bang.

They look up to the sky and find it exploding with color.

Fireworks.

 “Wah, so pretty,” Y/N says a huge smile on her face, her eyes bright, reflecting the reds and greens lighting up the sky.

Hoseok looks at her, a smile appearing on his own face.

“Yeah, you are,” he says quietly.

The fireworks end, and Hoseok glances at Y/N again. The smile is still there as she turns to face him.

“Shall we go, then?”

He nods in response. They walk through the park together.

“Y/N.” He stops walking suddenly.

“Hm?”

“I…nevermind.” Hoseok turns away from Y/N, a blush slowly creeping across his face and continues walking.

Y/N watches him walk away, confused.

“Ya, Hobi! Something the matter?” Y/N jogs over to Hoseok and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“No, it’s nothing, I just…It’s nothing.”

His heart hammers in his chest. He’s too nervous to tell her how she feels.

“You’re sure?” She looks him in the eyes, concerned.

He nods.

“Okay, then.”

And they start walking down the path again, an awkward silence between them. They finally reach Hoseok’s car.

“Oh gosh, I completely forgot about Taehyung. Can I borrow your phone?” He nods and hands her his phone. He watches walk away, dialing the number.

“Why can’t I just say it?” Frustrated, he runs his hands through his hair and closes his eyes. “She makes me so nervous.”

He kicks at a rock on the ground waiting for Y/N to come back.

“I’m gonna tell her. This time for sure.” He gives the rock one last kick, straightens out his shirt and fixes his hair.

Y/N POV

You return with the phone. “Thanks, Hobi,” you say as you hold it out for him to take.

Hoseok reaches out and grabs your hands. Shocked, you look him in the eyes, and see his cheeks tinted with pink.

“Y/N, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a long time, but I’ve never had the courage to come out and say it.”

Your heart starts to pound as you realize what he’s going to say.

“I think you’re beautiful, and funny, and kind, and I don’t want to pressure you to do anything you don’t want to, but, Y/N, I want you to be mine, and only mine.”

You don’t know what to say. Hoseok looks away and you feel his hands loosening their grip on you. 

You place your hand on his cheek and turn his face towards you. You lean forward and kiss him gently. His hands find your waist and he kisses back.

You finally pull away and look him in the eyes.

“I’m yours.”