Dance of Time || BTS x Reader

chapter 1

Insanity

Albert Einstein once said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Following the same routine and believing things would change, would move how you wanted them to.

Through studying history, you found this phenomenon to be accurate. So many events in history could have been prevented if they only looked back and did something different. Followed a different course. Chose a different path.

You were reminded of this every day, as you stared at your research, wondering why nothing was changing in your life. You were coming up on 27, the past six years of your life spent doing research and visiting historical sites. You were a historian, your passion for learning turned into a love for digging deeper into different events.

Your last project saw you crawling through underground tunnels in Edinburgh, writing about the day to day lives of the people living there when they were built. Your specialty, however, was the small-town ghost stories that seemed legend. You loved trying to find facts over rumors with regards to each town's Boo Radley. And now, it seemed like it was time to discover the truth about your very own Boo Radley.

You had been missing home lately, and had been planning a visit to the small town you had grown up in. You left as soon as you graduated high school, wanting to get away from the people who had made your life mundane, all whilst making something of your life. You had decided, during your trip home, that you would do a story on the Weeping Manor, the large home that stood on the outskirts of your hometown.

It was, according to the older generation, originally a boarding house for miners that would travel to the area. Sometimes railroad workers would stay there, but it was mostly people looking to get rich quick on the gold nuggets found within the area.

Everyone had grown up with the stories, how the original owners had come home to find their lover dead at the bottom of the grand staircase, or how they killed her themselves when she could not choose between them. Your personal favorite, the one your grandmother told you, was that they were demons who had thrown their life away to be with their love, and how the angels had killed her in retaliation.

As a child, your romantic heart had loved the story of forbidden lovers and had requested the tale every night you stayed with your grandmother. She would always smile at you, a twinkle to her eye as she spoke. She would speak with such conviction that you never would have realized the story wasn't true if you didn't share tales with the other kids at school.

"All stories hold truth, it's all about whether you are brave enough to find it or not." Those were the words she always told you when you confronted her about her "lies". They are also the words you live by, constantly searching for the truth in every story you hear.

You were currently on a plane home to Sacramento, the nearest airport to your hometown at least two hours north of the bustling state capitol. You were lucky enough to get the window seat, and no one else in your aisle. The empty wine glass sat on the table in front of you, your notebook in hand as you tried to write out everything you knew or could remember about the Weeping Manor. You also tried to plan what your next steps would be.

Primary sources would be on the list first, hoping your town's library still held any firsthand accounts of when it was a boarding house. Then, you would need to find the current owners of the manor and hope they would allow you to tour the building or see any of their handed down documents that might not be already within the library's records.

It was a long process to endure, but you loved it. You loved doing research and digging into records. It was like having history underneath your own fingertips. It was an honor for you.