BTS IMAGINES AND SCENARIOS

One liter of tears✿⁠(Kim Seokjin/Jin)

Chapter 5 – The River

The hospital suggested she rest more often.
So, on days when the corridors felt too narrow and her body too heavy, Y/n took Seokjin’s advice and escaped to the river.

It wasn’t far — a quiet stretch of water outside the city, lined with reeds and scattered benches. The air there always smelled clean, like a promise.

The first time he brought her, spring had just started to bloom again. The trees along the bank were laced with pale petals, trembling in the wind.

They sat side by side, feet barely touching the water’s edge.
“Feels like the world’s slowing down,” Seokjin said.
“Maybe it’s just waiting for us to catch up,” Y/n replied, smiling faintly.

He handed her a can of warm coffee, the kind from the machine downstairs. “You should drink. It’ll help you forget how cold it is.”

She took a sip, wincing at the sweetness. “You added too much sugar.”
“Then I guess you’ll just have to get used to it,” he teased.

They sat there for a long time, the silence easy between them.

At one point, a group of children ran past, chasing a bright red ball. Y/n watched them, a softness blooming behind her eyes.
“I used to think life was a straight path,” she said quietly. “Study hard, get older, keep moving. But lately, it feels more like this river.”
“How so?”
“It keeps flowing, even when it bends.”

Seokjin turned to her, his gaze steady. “And even when it slows down, it still reaches the sea.”

For a moment, neither spoke. The air felt full — not heavy, not sad, just full.
Y/n glanced at him, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words came.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he said softly.
“I know,” she whispered. “But if I stop, I’m afraid I won’t start again.”

“Then I’ll help you,” he replied simply.

She looked at him then, really looked — the kindness in his eyes, the way he never rushed her, never looked away. Something in her chest ached and settled at the same time.

Later, as the sun dipped low and the river turned gold, Y/n leaned her head on his shoulder.
“Promise me something,” she murmured.
“Anything.”
“When I can’t walk here anymore, you’ll still come.”
He smiled, a little sadly. “Only if you promise to remember the sound of the water.”

“I will,” she said.

The wind carried the promise away, folding it into the rustle of the reeds.

That evening, when Seokjin walked her home, neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. The world had said enough.