rosé imagines

unrequited love, pt. 3

Days crawled by in a blur as you threw yourself into practice with single-minded fervor, clinging to routine and physical exhaustion as the only things tethering your whirling thoughts. No matter how many hours you logged in the studio or how much your aching muscles screamed for rest, it was never enough to outrun the turbulent emotions consuming you from within.

Messages and calls from Rosé went ignored. You knew you weren't being fair, but facing her apologies or explanations right now would only twist the knife deeper into your already fractured heart. So you buried yourself in dance instead, each bead of sweat and straining muscle offering temporary respite from the torment raging ceaselessly in your mind.

Your members watched on with concern, exchanging whispers behind your back about how to intervene and pull you from this self-destructive spiral, gently winding tighter with each passing sun. But you ignored their attempts to coax you home each night, pushing past the limits of your endurance as punishment. For what, you weren't quite sure—for allowing foolish hopes to take root where none could grow, for failing to guard your heart more carefully, or simply because the physical agony somewhat numbed your emotional agony in fleeting moments of reprieve.

* * *

Days blurred into a week with no sign of slowing, your energy flagging further each sunset yet willpower overriding all pleas to rest. Then came a fateful Tuesday morning when you stumbled through warmups, lightheadedness overtaking your coordination until the floor rushed up to meet you.

Warm hands cupped your face as worried voices echoed from far away. Slowly, you found yourself cradled on the couch with your members surrounding you in concern.

"She's burning up," one observed, pressing a cool cloth to your forehead.

Another sighed, "This is what happens when you push yourself too far. Let's get her home to recover before it gets worse."

Feeble protests died on your lips as darkness tugged you under once more. When awareness returned again, you found yourself tucked safely in bed, with members hovering by your bedside with varying expressions of relief and lingering worry.

"Please take some time to rest, unnie," your main vocalist urged gently. "We're all here for you if you need anything at all. But for now, just focus on healing."

Weakly nodding, you drifted off once more as aches faded into the comforting embrace of dreamless slumber.

* * *

How long you slept, you weren't sure, but upon surfacing again, light filtered dimly through curtains, indicating evening had fallen.

This time, something was different. Voices spoke softly out of view, yet one rang clearer than the rest—like hearing an old friend again after years apart and all worries melting away just at the familiar tone.

"Is she recovering okay? Please let me know if anything changes."

Members reassured, "She's doing better now that she's resting, but it may take time."

As conversation faded back into background noise, footsteps padded closer until a wisp of blonde came into view, haloed by the bedside lamp's glow.

Rosé sat gently next to you, relief evident in her lovely features at seeing you coherent once more. Her hand found yours resting atop the covers, her thumb stroking soothingly across your knuckles.

"You really scared us all, Y/N. Please don't do this to yourself again," she murmured tenderly. Then, with a sad smile, "I know you're hurting, and I want to explain. When you're feeling up for it."