Hybrids | BTS FF

Chapter Three

(Back to Y/n's POV)

I had decided to take Solar's advice by taking the day off, knowing that she would call me if anything bad happened at the centre.

Bookstores had always brung me a sense of comfort; being surrounded by the smell of both fresh and old pages, the air filled with a hint of lavender which made me feel calmer and safer.

The old lady that owned the store was sweet and always expected me to come in at some point throughout my weeks, despite my busy work schedule that I always liked to complete.

"Morning Mrs Yoo," I called out brightly after spotting her sitting in one of the armchairs placed in the far corner of the bookstore. She goes to get up before I rush forward to keep her seated. "How're you doing?" I asked gently, sitting down on the armchair beside her.

"I'm doing good," she says, placing her book onto the table before our chairs. "My grandson came for a visit yesterday," she fondly recalls with a soft smile on her face, eyes glistening with reminiscence of the days before.

"He'll be going back to America soon for a model shooting," she beams excitedly, her hands clasping together with admiration. Mrs Yoo had been the one to raise her grandson Taemin after his parents abandoned him on her doorstep.

Mrs Yoo, since that day, had been estranged from her daughter and son-in-law, not even knowing if they were both okay or not. She never let it show that it bothered her, but everyone close to her knew that it did, which is why we always made sure that she was okay and felt the love that a family would give, even though we weren't blood related.

She always made sure to show her appreciation through the small things such as leaving lunches at work for me and Mamamoo, or making us tea whenever we visited the bookstore.

"Is it your day off?" She asked, her confusion being expressed in her tone. "Solar finally managed to make me take a step back from it all," I answered with a sigh, leaning back into the chair.

"She knows how to make me comply," I add with a chuckle while running a hand through my hair. "Well you do work hard dear, it's about time that someone got you to take a step back from it all."

"I just don't want people to think that the centre is a load of bull. I want to be able to help others with them finally being able to accept it, without being scared that it's just false or that they will get hurt if they do something wrong," I say sadly.

She releases her own sigh as she turns in her chair slightly to look at me clearer through her rose tinted glasses.

"You can't save everyone my love."

Mrs Yoo is one of the only people to exist with a heart of gold. She's never cared for stereotypes and peoples bullshit, always sticking to her own standards, even if it pissed everyone off.

Despite being in her late sixties, Mrs Yoo still managed to maintain clear skin and pull off having purple hair with a quirky sense of fashion, including bright pants and tops with over the top hats and glasses.

The bookstore was built from a deep seated passion that Mrs Yoo has had since she was a little girl, constantly being told that a woman couldn't achieve maintaining a business in a male dominated world.

She cracked through everyone's standards by building her own company based off of something she loved; books. She inspired my passion to achieve something so big as to have my own business.

I had managed to build a safe haven with hard earned cash by the time I had reached twenty, my work flourishing into something major by the time I had reached twenty-two, more safe haven's being built across the globe just to ensure the safety of millions of hybrids.

"I know that I can't save everyone but I'm more than willing to try," I say with determination, having learnt from the best that you should never give up on something that you want to achieve. 

She releases a heavy sigh before standing up, book in hand. "I wish you all the luck in the world my child," she curtly says before walking away.

I move to stand up as well before making my way towards the shelving unit holding hundreds of old books, worn down from use over the years.