BTS Eighth Member | The Life: Year 2016

Chapter 38- Death of a Matriarch

September 1st, 2016:

I knock on the boys' dorm door. Namjoon said he would let me in so I could bake in their place. I wanted to keep my tradition of baked birthday cakes going as much as I could despite the lacking facilities in my own place. I wasn't entirely surprised no one was answering though. It was 4 am and he had probably passed out and forgot to put an alarm. I try one last time, calling him as well before the door opens.

"Hobi oppa?" I say, a little surprised it was him to answer.

"What are you doing here?" he says, surprised himself, "I thought the police were here or something with all that knocking".

"I'm here to bake a cake for JK," I answer, walking in and taking my shoes off, "sorry for waking you up, you can go back to sleep".

"Oh, I wasn't sleeping," he sighs, going to the couch and picking up his phone, "I'm trying to see if there's a way we can simplify the choreography for you if they're set on those stupid boots".

"Don't worry about me oppa," I say, getting the bowls and utensils out, "I'll like twist my ankle and get out of it or something," I chuckle a little.

I turn to him when I don't get any response whatsoever. He was giving me a very very unimpressed look. The type of look your parents give you when you come home with a sub-par grade despite them staying up all night to tutor you.

"That's not funny," he finally says, going back to looking at the video of our choreo.

"Or, I could fall and pop my shoulder?" I suggest, thinking it was funny, "it's been a little wigglier since that last time".

"Y/N, stop joking about getting injured," he huffs.

"I'm just saying. It's a sure way to not have to wear the boots," I shrug.

"I hate it when they do this," he says upset, "the styling team is supposed to be complimenting us, not making it harder for us".

While I was really initially happy that they were taking this as an "attack" on the group, now I was seeing how stressed he was by this, I don't know if I actually preferred to be suffering in silence. The one thing I would never ever let myself do is be the reason for the boys' suffering, no matter how small that suffering might seem.

"Don't worry about it oppa," I say, starting to put ingredients in the bowls, "I'll practice extra hard, stay after schedules. I was thinking of practicing in those pointy heels so when I go to the boots it feels easier. I'll make sure it won't affect the choreo and the group. We'll be able to keep going as if nothing's happened".

"Y/N, I'm not worried about the group or how it's going to look for the fans," he says, looking up from his phone.

I send him a "really?" look.

"Ok, well maybe a bit, I always think of the fan reception," he says hurriedly, "but that's not the point. I'm worried about you, not the group. Like I'm slowing down practice not so the group can learn to dance with you, I'm doing it, so you don't break your ankles, or your nose again".