Heartbeat // JK

10 - Quiet Storms

The apartment was too quiet now. Hours ago, it had been filled with voices and laughter, BTS's energy making the space feel alive in a way it never had before. Now, all that remained was a pile of neatly stacked dishes in the sink and the faint warmth of their presence lingering in the air. I pulled my knees to my chest on the couch, the blanket draped over me feeling heavier than it should.

Last night.

It was all I could think about. My first time on stage. My song. My voice echoing into the crowd. The lights, the noise, the overwhelming adrenaline coursing through me. It had been a blur, yet it was all so vivid.

And then there was Jungkook.

We hadn't even met until after the performance, but the way he'd smiled at me, his words—You were amazing—had stayed with me. Simple, yet they carried a weight I couldn't ignore.

The buzz of my phone shattered the silence, pulling me back to the present. Then it buzzed again. And again.

I frowned, grabbing it off the coffee table, my stomach twisting as I saw the flood of notifications. Social media alerts. Missed calls. Texts. I unlocked the screen and opened Twitter.

The hashtags hit me like a punch.

#WhoIsShe
#BTSNYCPerformance
#JungkooksMysteryGirl

My hands started shaking as I scrolled. Videos of my performance were everywhere, accompanied by blurry photos of me standing near BTS after the show. The comments were...

"Her voice is incredible! Who is she??"
"Okay, but she's not even that good. Why did BTS let her on stage?"
"Who does she think she is? Clout-chasing much?"
"Jungkook smiled at her once, and now she thinks she's special. Sit down."
"This random girl just got lucky. Stay away from BTS!"
"She's embarrassing. No stage presence, no talent. Why is she even there?"
"Jungkook deserves better. She's clearly trying to use him."

I stared at the screen, my chest tightening with every cruel word. There were positive comments mixed in, I knew that. I could see them, but my mind refused to hold onto them.

Instead, the negative ones dug in deep, echoing the doubts I already carried. It was as if they confirmed the fears I'd been too afraid to admit: that I wasn't good enough, that I didn't belong. My own judgment turned their words into a chorus I couldn't ignore.

I set the phone down, wrapping my arms around myself. I'd dreamed about performing for so long, but I hadn't imagined this. The applause, the lights—that had been magical. But this? The scrutiny? The hatred? It was suffocating.

Another buzz. I almost didn't pick it up, but when I saw Jimin's name, I hesitated.

Jimin: You're famous now! Jungkook hasn't stopped smiling all morning, btw.

I couldn't help it—I laughed softly, the tension in my chest easing just enough to breathe.

Eva: Perfect. Can't wait to be ARMY's public enemy #1.

His reply came instantly.

Jimin: Don't worry, You're safe with us. Good luck surviving!

I smiled faintly, Jimin's lighthearted words helping more than I expected. But as I put the phone down and stared at the now – empty apartment, the knot in my stomach tightened again.

This wasn't just about my first performance anymore. It wasn't just about the song I'd poured my heart into. It was about the world I'd been thrust into overnight — a world where every glance, every word, every step was dissected.