One shots | Kim Taehyung

Dancing in silence Part 1 | KTH

The rain whispered against the paper-thin windows of your bedroom, painting shadows that stretched long across the floor. The skies above Seoul were clouded over, heavy and gray — the kind of gray that seeped into your bones and made everything feel just a little more suffocating.

Inside your home, nothing ever changed. The air was always tense, like walking through glass without shoes. The walls wore portraits of ancestors you'd never met, their stern faces watching, judging, silent guardians of a tradition you no longer believed in.

And then the words came — sharp, final, like the crack of thunder outside.

"You're marrying him, and that's final, Kim Y/N."

Your father's voice echoed across the living room like a decree, not a decision. Not a conversation. His jaw was clenched, the deep lines around his mouth shadowed by the dim overhead light. His eyes — once warm when you were small — now looked at you like you were a burden he was too tired to carry.

"Appa, please..." Your voice broke before the plea could fully form. "Please, I'm begging you, don't do this to me."

You dropped to your knees. It wasn't drama — it was defeat. Your palms pressed together in desperation, trembling, cold against the hard wooden floor.

"I don't want to marry him. I don't even know him."

Your mother stood at the edge of the room, arms folded over her beige cardigan. Her lips were thin, expression unreadable.

"You've embarrassed us enough," she said quietly, without looking at you. "Caught dancing alone, like some street girl. What future are you chasing with this foolishness?"

You felt it — the sting, the burn behind your eyes, the lump rising like a rock in your throat. But it wasn't the first time they made you feel like your dreams were sins.

"I wasn't doing anything wrong," you whispered, eyes glossy. "It was just... dancing."

Your father slammed his palm against the dining table, startling the silence out of everyone.

"You call that nothing?" he barked. "You think wasting your time twirling around like a child is acceptable in this house? At this age?"

You flinched. "I'm twenty-two, not a child."

"Exactly why it's time you stopped behaving like one."

His voice dropped, filled with exhausted contempt. "You failed half your subjects. You barely passed last semester. What future are you clinging to, Y/N?"

"Because I'm not allowed to live!" you cried, the words spilling like stormwater. "I can't breathe in this house without someone telling me what I should or shouldn't be!"

Your mother's gaze hardened. "You need discipline. Marriage will straighten you out. Taehyung-ssi is a good man. Respectful. Wealthy. Educated."

"I don't care about his money," you said, breath shivering. "I don't want to be sold off to someone just because I didn't meet your standards."

"This isn't about standards," your father replied, voice bitter. "It's about saving you from ruining your own life."

You stared at him, a part of you wishing—just wishing—he'd see the girl in front of him instead of the failure he imagined.

"You think I'm incapable," you said quietly.

He didn't reply.

"You think I'll never amount to anything," you continued, voice raw.

Still, no answer. Only the silence of two parents who loved tradition more than their daughter's heart.

You lowered your head, your forehead pressing against the cold floorboards. The tears came soundlessly at first, warm trails down your cheeks, falling onto the fabric of your pajama sleeves.