The Playboy

1

Y/N slowly stirred awake, her head pounding with a dull ache that made her wince. The remnants of her tantrum were evident in the way her body ached from the intense emotions that had overtaken her earlier. For a moment, she lay there in silence, her eyes closed as she tried to gather the strength to face another day. But as she blinked her eyes open, she realized she wasn't alone.

Next to her, Taehyung was curled up on top of the blankets, sleeping soundly. His presence was a familiar comfort, one that she had relied on more times than she could count. Taehyung was the only brother who always kept her company after her storms, the one who stayed even when things got difficult. Y/N felt a pang of guilt and sadness wash over her.

How much of a burden had she become to him? She didn't want to push her brothers away, but she couldn't help the way she felt—the loneliness that clung to her like a shadow, the pain that gnawed at her heart every time she thought about how broken she really was.

Growing up, Y/N and Taehyung had been close, bonded by the shared trauma of their parents' divorce. Their father, a man of wealth and power, had won custody, but it was clear to both of them that he viewed parenting as more of a financial obligation than an emotional one. He was rarely around, and when he was, it was only to give them whatever they wanted—a new toy, an expensive gift, a lavish vacation. But never love. Never the warmth and comfort of a parent's embrace.

As a child, Y/N had learned to equate love with material things because it was the only way she knew how to feel cared for. But as she grew older, she realized that no amount of gifts could fill the void in her heart. She was just a broken kid, desperate for the one thing money couldn't buy—true affection, attention, and the unconditional support of her family.

She glanced around her room, surprised to find it spotless. It was as if her tantrum had never happened. The broken plushies were gone, the scattered clothes picked up, the shattered trinkets replaced or mended. It was the work of her brothers, she was sure of it. They always did this—cleaned up after her messes, both literally and figuratively.

A small, bitter smile tugged at her lips. They were always there to fix things, but what she really wanted was for them to be there *before* things broke. She wished they could see how much she needed them, how much she needed more than just their cleanup efforts. She needed their presence, their understanding, their love.

She turned her gaze back to Taehyung, who was still fast asleep, his face peaceful in slumber. Gently, she reached out and shook his shoulder. "Taehyung... I'm hungry," she whispered, her voice soft, almost hesitant.

Taehyung stirred at her touch, blinking awake with a sleepy yawn. His eyes focused on her, and the concern that immediately flooded his expression made her chest tighten. "Oh, Y/N. You're awake... Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

She nodded slightly, avoiding his gaze as she slipped out of bed. She didn't want to answer more of his concerned questions. She wasn't sure she could handle it. The truth was, she wasn't okay—she hadn't been for a long time. But saying that out loud felt impossible, even to Taehyung.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, walking over to the mirror and running a hand through her disheveled hair. Her reflection stared back at her, tired and worn out, but she forced herself to look away.

Taehyung watched her carefully, his instincts telling him there was more going on beneath the surface, but he knew better than to push her when she was like this. He got up from the bed and approached her, his presence calming. "Let's go downstairs and get something to eat, okay? I'll make you whatever you want," he said, trying to coax a smile out of her.

She nodded again, this time more earnestly. "Okay," she whispered, grateful that he was giving her the space she needed. She followed him out of the room, her footsteps heavy as she descended the stairs.