Stylist {j.h} A BTS Fanfiction - ON HIATUS

열 여섯

Her

Someone was whispering my name. 

"Hiroko.." 

It seemed so distant. It probably didn't matter. I curled up on my side. I slipped into the world of dreams, falling prey to the sweet, addictive numbness that was sleep.

I opened my eyes and found myself in the dreamscapes of my subconscious. I stood on the bridge overlooking the Han river. Stars dot the sky, scattered like discarded diamonds. It seemed strange to me that there was no one in sight. Usually, people and vehicles covered this area like ants surrounding a dropped sweet. I turned around to face the river, placing my hands on the cement barrier that was protecting me from falling off the edge. Dark waters swirled beneath. At first, the water seemed to be nothing but a smooth, velvety blackness to match the starry sky above. But the longer I peered into their depths, the more underlying shades of blue and purple stood out. The effect was captivating. The colors swirled together like oil on water, shifting and churning in an endless pattern. 

I had a sudden urge to reach out and touch it. I stretched out a hand to the open sea but stopped abruptly, my fingers almost to the horizon. Something deep inside me warned that if I touched the edge of the ocean, it would be the last thing I did.

I turned away from the haunting images of the sea. I walked down the bridge, trying to see the end of it. I wandered around for hours. But no matter how far I walked, the end of the bridge was always out of reach.

Footsteps behind me made me quicken my pace. They sped up as well. I started sprinting. They kept pace. 

"Hiroko!" A voice called out. "Wait!" 

I skidded to a stop near a suspension tower. That voice. It couldn't be. A mix of joy and fear and pain assaulted my heart. I swiveled around to find him standing down the bridge. My body simultaneously tried to surge forward and back up towards him. The man who had started this all. The man who had driven me to leave my family and my homeland.

Sato Takai.

His hands were outstretched towards me. The curve of his lips, the single dimple in his right cheek, the smell of his favorite sweater. A wave of mixed emotions hit me like a wall. Pain. Longing. Homesickness. Joy. He meant comfort on long days at work. He was a reminder of home and the happy memories held there. He also meant painful days spent longing for him to call, abusive actions and vicious lies to keep me trapped under his thumb. 

My legs trembled. I took a shaky step forward. He was here. Why was he here, in my dreams? I took another trembling step. My foot slipped on a wet edge where pavement met asphalt. My hands hit the ground hard enough that I winced. 

In two swift steps he was by my side. He rested a hand on the small of my back, worry painted in broad streaks across his clean-cut features. An icy sensation spread from the point of contact down my spine sinking deep into my bones. I shivered and shrank from his touch.

"Are you alright?"

I scrambled to my feet as awareness to everything he had done to me came rushing to the front of my mind. Everything in my body screamed at me to run and never look back. I wanted to scream. But I couldn't move. I was stuck. I couldn't move as he reached for my hand. My feet felt as if they had been superglued to the ground beneath me.  

"Are your hands okay, Hiro?"

"Don't call me that," My voice was quiet and trembled with fear. It was how I had once talked, back when we were together. I stared at my bleeding hands. What was I becoming? A scared, broken girl afraid of being left behind again. His girl- no- his toy.