Generations Expectation's | 8th member of BTS

65

Ae Cha's POV

Weeks passed, though it hardly felt like time was moving forward at all. It felt more like I'd been locked inside the same awful day over and over again, each city blending into the next until I couldn't tell one hotel room from another. The tour kept going exactly as planned, dates checked off one after another across countries and arenas I'd once dreamed about seeing since I was a little girl curled up beside my mother, watching old recordings of her performances and imagining myself under those same lights someday. I used to think touring would feel magical. Exhausting, sure, but magical in a way only people who truly loved performing could understand. I thought it would feel like proof that every sacrifice had been worth it.

Instead, these were becoming the worst weeks of my life.

Everything that used to make me feel alive now felt hollowed out.

Every morning started the same. Staff knocking on my hotel door before sunrise, voices clipped and professional as they handed me a schedule I already knew by memory. Hair. Makeup. Wardrobe. Soundcheck. Stage rehearsal. Interviews. Perform. Smile. Wave. Repeat. I was shuffled from place to place so mechanically that sometimes I genuinely felt less like a person and more like some expensive doll they were terrified of damaging. Nobody really spoke to me anymore unless it was necessary. Even the stylists who used to gossip with me while fixing my hair barely looked me in the eyes now, their conversations dying the second I entered a room.

It was like everyone had silently agreed I was dangerous.

Like whatever happened between Jungkook and me had contaminated me somehow. The worst part was the boys. No, that wasn't right. The worst part was being so close to them while being forced to pretend they no longer belonged to me.

Because they were still there. Every day. Every stage. Every rehearsal. Every airport. Every backstage hallway where I'd catch the briefest glimpse of Taehyung's curls disappearing around a corner or hear Jin's laugh somewhere down the hall before staff redirected me elsewhere. Sometimes I'd hear Namjoon speaking during meetings in the next room over while I sat isolated in silence waiting for someone to escort me somewhere else like a prisoner transport.

And Jungkook...

God.

Jungkook was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

There were moments on stage where our eyes accidentally met beneath the lights, both of us moving through choreography and lyrics while thousands of fans screamed around us. Those tiny accidental seconds became the only thing keeping me sane. Sometimes I'd catch the faintest flicker of worry in his expression before he'd force himself to look away again because cameras were always watching. Always recording. Always waiting.

We weren't even allowed the comfort of pretending to be friends anymore.

That was the cruelest part.

If they had simply forbidden us from dating, maybe I could've survived it easier. But they took everything. The casual touches. Sitting together during interviews. Shared car rides. Late-night conversations in hotel rooms after performances. Even the stupid little things like stealing food off each other's plates or arguing over music during practice breaks. They erased all of it so thoroughly that sometimes I caught myself wondering if I had imagined how close we used to be in the first place.

Now our interactions existed only on stage or in front of cameras, and even then they were controlled down to the second. The moment filming stopped, staff would immediately descend like vultures. If I lingered even a second too long near the others, someone was there guiding me away with a tight hand on my shoulder and a fake polite smile stretched across their face.