Escape From Breylin || •JJK• ✔️

Mr. Jeon

Sorry this chapter took a bit longer than usual. It's a long chapter, so I hope that makes up for it. Lots of juicy stuff happens. We learn a loooot more about Y/n since she desperately needs depth (and Jungkook's dic-). Hope you enjoy!

Y/n was used to being a "party trick". If someone wanted a dark story, her friends would point to her and ask her to tell the tale of her adoption. It made her veins squirm like eels, but her friends kept pushing her into the spotlight to reveal the part of herself she hated most. As much as she adored her adoptive parents, the thought that she'd never know who her birth parents were made her question her own identity. Was she even allowed to be real if she didn't have her birth parents with her?

Philosophy fascinated Y/n, and she blamed that on her lack of parents. Although that may have sounded silly to some, it was true for her. It fueled her desire to see the deeper side of humanity. What was living, and how did your parents impact that? Those were questions that terrified her as much as they excited her. She could talk about the theory of consciousness for hours. One thing that always made her mind warp into a frenzy was the idea that there was no proof anyone else was conscious except for Y/n. There was no evidence that the people around her were conscious, and no way to prove it. The only proof she had for her own existence was just that: she could sense her consciousness. She couldn't sense the consciousness of others, which was why the concept fascinated her.

Perhaps that was why she adored Professor Kim. He was big into philosophy, and she discussed topics like those with him during his office hours. She always talked about the possible existence of another world living in plain sight. After all, humanity knew more about the Moon than they did the deep ocean. They knew more about something not on the planet than the thing they lived next to. How fascinating.

Y/n snickered to herself as the party music blasted her ears. The whole reason she went into that mental spiel was because her "friends" were doing it again: they were shoving her into the center of attention. She had no issue having the spotlight on her. In fact, maybe she enjoyed it, but not for topics such as these. Her family business was hers and hers only, yet the few friends she had (AKA her roommates) were pushing her toward the center of the circle that formed in the living room of the frat house.

Philosophy was one of her favorite things, but frats? They were disgusting to say the least. She hated them because of how often women got roofied. The amount of SA awareness videos she had to watch to come to college made her concerned for the state of America, but she was glad she got the truth about frats: they were low-lives who couldn't score a girl, so they resorted to crime. However, she came out tonight out of desperation for any type of social interaction. Making new friends felt near impossible. The only friends she could make were her roommates, and even then, they felt like fake friends more than real ones.

"Come on, Y/n. Don't be lame, you love telling your adoption story," one of her roommates, Fiona, said. The dark-haired woman shoved Y/n into the circle surrounding the living space of the frat. It smelled of weed and vomit, music blasting in the distance while the chatter of other people drowned out most of what Fiona said.

It didn't help that the rest of the room was covered in squishy tan carpet that left droplets of an unknown liquid on the sides of Y/n's sneakers. Some were sitting on the ground, their pants covered with the substance. Y/n opted to stand, not even bothering to go to the couch that was a chestnut shade, but it still managed to have an even darker, hickory-like hue stained on the middle cushion. Granted, the lights were dimmed, but she could make out the round patch of grime attached to the poor furniture.

"No thanks," was Y/n's reply, her backing up from the circle of a dozen people, mixed between men and women. Her roommate kept her hands on Y/n's shoulders, Y/n shifting to get out of her unwanted hold. "I said no."