Ahrin Lee | the hated member

Bonus chapter (oops)

Ahrin always felt a chill of nostalgia when she walked past the old bus stop near her neighborhood. The dim light there had seen her through countless late-night conversations, bursts of laughter, and comforting silences. Eunwoo was always beside her, leaning against the pole with his hands shoved in his pockets, listening with that familiar half-smile of his. Just as he was tonight.

"You're always here when I need you," she murmured, glancing at the boy beside her. His hair ruffled slightly in the breeze, his silhouette almost blending into the shadows cast by the flickering streetlight.

"Of course," he replied, his voice low and warm. "I'll always be here, Ahrin. You know that."

As the youngest member of Stray Kids, Ahrin usually kept to herself. The boys were all close, but she found peace in her own thoughts, especially when Eunwoo was around. The others would often catch her having whispered conversations, her expression flickering between happy and wistful. They assumed she was just zoning out, lost in a world of her own. No one questioned it—she was the kind of person who seemed to be content with her own company.

But Seunghan, one of her closest friends, had started to notice things. Sometimes, she'd laugh to herself, or wave at what seemed like empty air, as if someone were there with her.

One evening, after a long day of practice, Seunghan saw Ahrin standing alone on the rooftop of JYP's building, her head tilted up to the sky as if she was waiting for someone. Concerned, he quietly approached, staying out of sight, curious but respectful of her privacy.

"It's a beautiful night," she said, her voice soft and content.

Seunghan frowned. She wasn't wearing her earpiece or talking on the phone, yet she spoke as if someone was right beside her.

"Remember when we snuck out to watch the meteor shower?" she continued, as if recalling a fond memory. "You were so worried someone would find out. But you went with me anyway."

Seunghan couldn't hold back any longer. "Ahrin?"

She turned, looking mildly surprised but not embarrassed. "Hey, Seunghan."

"Who... were you talking to?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

"Oh, just Eunwoo," she said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Eunwoo?" Seunghan repeated, the name unfamiliar to him. "I don't think I know him."

Ahrin's smile faltered a little, her gaze drifting away. "Oh, well, you wouldn't. He... doesn't really come around here."

Seunghan felt a strange unease. "Can I... meet him sometime?"

Her smile returned, gentle and nostalgic. "He's always here. You just have to look."

Later that night, Seunghan couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling. He'd never heard her mention Eunwoo before, and the way she spoke about him, as if he were there, seemed... strange. Determined to understand, he decided to do some digging.

After a bit of online searching and asking around, he uncovered an old news article buried in the archives. His heart stopped as he read the headline.

"Teenager Reported Missing After Running Away from Home"

The article was dated several years back, and as he scrolled down, a small photograph appeared beside the text. It was a boy with a kind smile and bright eyes—Eunwoo.

Seunghan's pulse quickened as he read through the article. Eunwoo had been close to Ahrin since childhood. One night, he'd run away from home after a fight with his parents, and no one had seen him since. Days turned into months, and then years. Eventually, people stopped looking, believing he had moved on somewhere far away, maybe even started a new life.

But one detail struck Seunghan hard: Eunwoo had died shortly after he disappeared, in an accident near the outskirts of the city.

Seunghan wrestled with his thoughts for days, watching Ahrin from a distance, noticing how often she spoke to the empty spaces beside her, how often she laughed at things no one else could hear.

One evening, as they left the practice room together, Seunghan gathered the courage to approach her about it.

"Ahrin," he started gently, "can we talk?"

She looked up, sensing the seriousness in his voice. "Of course."

"About... Eunwoo."

Her expression softened, a sad but fond look flickering in her eyes. "What about him?"

Seunghan hesitated. "I... I found out what happened. To him."

Ahrin's face fell, her hands trembling slightly. "What do you mean?"

Seunghan took a deep breath. "Eunwoo... he's gone, Ahrin. He... he passed away years ago."

She shook her head, refusing to accept it. "No, that's impossible. I just... I just talked to him."

Seunghan placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, trying to hold her steady. "Ahrin, I know it feels like he's here. And maybe, in some way, he is. But... sometimes, our minds cling to things we can't let go of. It's okay to remember him, to miss him. But you have to accept that he isn't here anymore."

Her eyes filled with tears, the weight of reality pressing down on her. "I... I don't know how to let go, Seunghan."

He hugged her tightly, whispering, "You're not alone. We're all here for you, and we'll help you through this. We'll keep his memory alive together, but it's time to say goodbye."

That night, Ahrin sat alone at the bus stop, feeling the empty silence around her. She could almost see him there, leaning against the pole, smiling at her one last time. She took a deep breath, letting the memory wash over her.

"Goodbye, Eunwoo," she whispered, her voice filled with love and loss.

And as she turned to leave, a gentle breeze brushed past her, as if whispering a final farewell.