Borahae (BTS reverse harem)✔️

00:00

I lay in a strange bed in a strange hotel room in a strange city, staring up at the ceiling and counting the hairline cracks in the plaster. At least I think that's what they are. It's hard to tell. My eyes are nearly swollen shut from crying and I've been awake for...shit. I don't even know. I can barely remember the details of how I got here. But I know one thing for sure.

I left them.

I abandoned them when they needed me the most.

I broke their hearts into a million pieces, ensuring they would never trust me again.

And now I'm left with nothing but the clothes on my back and a chestful of jagged shards where my heart once resided.

It must've been over twenty-four hours ago that I walked out of that stadium in Seoul. I got into a taxi. I tapped out the text message that would destroy us all. And then, before I arrived at the airport, I tossed my phone out the window, making it so they couldn't track me. Ensuring that I couldn't break down and tell them I was wrong...that I take it all back. That I'm just stupid and rash and scared and would hurry back to them where I belong.

But I couldn't do any of that. Not again. Not anymore. Because I knew that despite what people would think, I had done right by them. They may not understand that now but they would.

Eventually.

I hoped.

My only saving grace was that I had my passport. So with my face a mess of tears and smeared makeup, I purchased the first ticket back to the US. And that brought me here.

Seattle, Washington.

I have no plan. No idea what I'll do here or if I'll even stay. I have no home. Those seven boys, that apartment in Seoul, that couch where I rubbed their shoulders and watched movies with them and made out with them and played with their hair while they told me about their busy schedule...that was my home. And I lost it. I lost it all.

Fuck.

What did I do? How...how could I have done that to them?

The tears fall again. I wasn't sure if I could cry anymore—had wondered if I had permanently broken my tear ducts. But I guess I was wrong. No sound escapes though. No more gut-wrenching sobs that vibrate through my entire frame, so I guess that's progress. But it doesn't hurt any less. I don't think I want it to.

Exhaustion finally sinks its hooks in me yet I don't realize I've fallen asleep until I'm jerking awake, confused and disoriented. For a split second, I internally freak out at the unfamiliar surroundings but then I remember.

Strange bed. Strange hotel room. Strange city. And alone.

More tears. More exhaustion. And then I'm spiraling through the same cycle until the sheer force of my sobs causes my head to ache so intensely that I grow nauseous. I scramble to the toilet just in time to heave through the misery but evacuate nothing more than saliva and stomach acid. I haven't eaten in...shit. A day? Days? Has it been two days already? And I've barely had more than a few sips of water. I have to be severely dehydrated.

As much as I want to lay down and die, I know that would be truly self-serving and I don't deserve that reprieve. So instead, I strip off my clothes and turn on the shower. But as I'm removing my jewelry, I'm wracked with a sudden, cruel realization.

This is the watch they gave me.

The earrings, the necklace, the bracelet—all gifts from them. Gifts I didn't deserve. There was no special occasion. They just wanted me to feel loved—to feel truly cherished—without expecting anything in return. And they succeeded.