Rewrite the Rules

Perfect plastic boyfriends: Part 78

"Emma, marry me," Namjoon's voice cut through the tension.

A choked whisper escaped my lips, "No, Namjoon." My heart hammered against my ribs.

He frowned, concern clouding his features. "Baby?"

"We need time," I pleaded, reaching for his hand. "A year. Four seasons, to be sure. Let's not get swept up in the chaos. Marrying you isn't the question, Namjoon. It's us, forever, with or without a ring. You already have my heart. Yes, you have my forever."

A relieved laugh escaped him. "You reject my proposal, but somehow say everything I needed to hear."

I winked, snuggling closer. "Guess I speak the language of your heart then." Safe and warm, I burrowed deeper into his embrace, falling a sleep.

Everyone had blocked Hoon's calls except for Namjoon. The phone rang with urgency. Namjoon looked around the condo at each of us.

I had called my father and said I needed help. It was a rare thing for me. So, his answer was immediately yes. He had sent the company plane to Taipei to pick up the members and myself. We escaped. We had 4 days until the next concert.

Tae had contacted a member of the press that he was close to. She worked at one of the biggest Gossip newspapers in Seoul. I called Mike Smith, the reporter from the diner to share the same info. The information they leaked was BTS had disbanded. And they were canceling their remaining tour. Both were had promised a full exclusive of the truth in the future.

The reporters was happy to do it. Tae and I even supplied photos of the members getting on to the private plane.

Management had no clue where the members were. We left the country. We landed on a private plane in Toronto, Canada about an hour ago in a small airport on the outskirts of the city. And we made our way to one of my father's company condos in the center of the city.

The phone buzzed, shattering the tense silence in the condo. Namjoon's fingers hovered over the screen for a beat, then he tapped accept. Hoon's voice crackled through the speaker, laced with barely concealed fury.

"Where the hell are you?" he barked. "The manifest for your plane clearly stated Iceland. You're not in Iceland."

Namjoon's voice remained calm, but a steely edge crept into his tone. "Just a heads-up, Hoon," he said, "if you keep talking to me like that, locating us will become significantly more difficult. And frankly, the conversation will end right here."

A beat of stunned silence followed before Hoon sputtered, "Listen, Assh..." but the line went dead. Namjoon hung up, a flicker of defiance in his eyes.

The flickering light of the laptop screen cast an uneven glow on Namjoon's face, highlighting the worry lines etched deeper than usual. The sat behind him, supporting their leader. I was out of the picture to the side.

A few hours later.

HYBE's Vice Chairman Choi's face, a mosaic of concern and frustration, swam into focus on the other side of the video call. The once crisp suit seemed rumpled, and the ever-present sternness in Vice Chairman Choi's eyes was tinged with a hint of desperation.

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Namjoon, his face taut with anger, listened intently as Vice Chairman Choi spoke in Korean. Jungkook, ever the quick translator, leaned into me and whispered the translation in English.

"Hoon's been fired," Jungkook murmured, his voice barely a breath. "Choi says we should have gotten in touch with me sooner."

Namjoon's jaw clenched. "We tried multiple times, sir," his face flushed with frustration. "I don't know if it was your assistant or maybe Hoon, but we were not allowed to speak to you."