The Angels Sent To Kill Me TXT Taehyun x reader ff

Chapter 5

I watched her quietly as she bent over the worktable, measuring the fabric for the dress she was stitching together. She didn't acknowledge me, but she didn't exactly tell me to leave either. Not that she could stop me—I couldn't walk away from her even if I wanted to, nor could I make myself disappear like before. I was exposed to the world, visible and present, and tethered to her whether she liked it or not. It was clear that my mission wasn't over; there was still something keeping me here.

"I can't believe you're a stalker," she said, her voice laced with irritation. Her attention was fixed on the dress sketch spread across the table in this old garage, part of an abandoned house. There was no electricity here, just the warm glow of candles, their wax drippings scattered over various surfaces from nights of burning. A vanilla-scented candle added a touch of sweetness to the air, its soft light illuminating the dusty corners and faded walls.

"I'm not," I answered, keeping my voice calm.

"Then why won't you leave?" she snapped, clearly annoyed. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for her sewing tools, betraying the strain she was under. I could see she was close to breaking, and though she bristled at my presence, I knew she needed someone here—anyone—so she didn't have to face it all alone.

I let her question hang in the air, deliberately avoiding a direct response. Instead, I asked, "Why is this place abandoned?"

She let out a frustrated sigh, realizing I was deflecting. "An old couple used to live here," she said, her voice softening slightly. "They died together, a suicide pact. One of them had cancer, and they didn't want to leave each other behind." Her gaze wandered to the faded wallpaper and cracked window panes as she continued, "Their granddaughter inherited the place, but she refused to sell it. Guess she couldn't let go."

The story filled the silence of the garage with a kind of heavy sadness, lingering in the air like the smell of dust and wax. The once-vibrant house was slowly succumbing to decay, the walls peeling and the floors rotting, but it made the perfect hideaway for her—a makeshift workshop where she could escape, create, and think. It was free, abandoned, and entirely hers.

"Aren't you afraid it's haunted?" I asked, half-joking, trying to lighten the mood.

She clicked her tongue dismissively. "I don't believe in things I can't see."

"What about heaven?" I ventured, genuinely curious.

She scoffed at the question, a hollow sound that echoed in the quiet garage. Her hands were already back to working on the dress, stitching deliberately, trying to keep busy. There was a bitterness in her movements, a coldness I hadn't seen before. Since her encounter with Young Jae, her usual warmth and kindness had withdrawn, replaced by a prickly defense mechanism.

I wanted to keep pressing, to ask why she seemed so different, but then the faint rattle of the garage shutter interrupted us. The door rolled up just enough for three figures to slip inside—two boys and a girl. They crouched as they entered, squinting in the dim candlelight.

"See, I told you she'd be here," said the girl, her voice cheerful until her eyes landed on me. Her expression changed to confusion, her brows knitting together as she took in the sight of a stranger standing so close to her friend.

I stiffened as the three newcomers appeared in the doorway, their expressions changing from friendly anticipation to bewilderment when they noticed me standing beside her. The girl who had spoken took a hesitant step forward, her gaze flicking between Y/N and me, clearly trying to make sense of the situation.

I stepped back instinctively, allowing the sudden tension in the room to settle over us all.

The boys froze, just as startled by my presence as the girl had been. I offered them a friendly smile, trying to diffuse the tension.