Chapter I
Y/n
College life was abusing me both mentally and physically. And having my best friend live literally across the country wasn’t useful to my mental state in any way.
I never realised how much someone could hate themselves until I spent a solid five minutes every day, examining every inch of my body and comparing it to a random model I found online.
People told me college life was going to be easy, fun even. But I never imagined it would make me hate myself so much. Sometimes I wish I could just switch bodies with one of those girls who talk about nothing else but their next nail and hair appointment.
I know, pathetic right? Frustration and anger loaded in me and I felt the sudden urge to breakdown and start crying out my pain. And I did. I hugged my pillow tightly in my arms and wailed into it, like a baby.
Tears flowed down my cheeks as if it was a rain parade from hell.
-
“What a slut I can’t believe she’s giving out her number like it’s a freebie.”
“She looks so pathetic.”
“Bro, I bet you ten bucks I’ll break her heart in a week.”
“What is she wearing?”
“She’s so naive and stupid.”
“She’s never going to get a boyfriend like that.”
-
It hurt so much it felt as though I could feel my heart physically cracking. Even the littlest bit of confidence I held seemed to be fading. I had to talk to someone, now. I reached towards my phone and quickly dialled Lyna’s number.
‘We’re sorry. The number you have dialled isn’t available right now. Please try again later.’
I blurted a cuss word under my breath and wiped my salty tears with the back of my hand. I had to let it out somehow in any way possible. I bottled my emotions to a point where I felt delirious. I had no control over my actions whatsoever.
I made my way towards the study table and grabbed the first things my eyes hooked on. A paper, a pen, and an envelope. I clutched the pen in my shaking hand and began pouring my feelings out onto the piece of paper.
Dear Lyna,
I cannot handle it anymore.
I cannot cope with being the only sixteen-year-old in a college that’s filled with people who are so much more better and mature.
I feel like such a misfit. I don’t belong here.
I want to go back to how we used to mock the cafeteria food in school.
I miss how we used to wrap ourselves in warm blankets and watch ‘Mean Girls’ instead of attending lame high school parties.
People are telling me I’m too naive and innocent for my age and that I should stop being such a whore.
I’m done. And I want to give up.
Sincerely your best friend, y/n.′
-
I woke up to the beautiful singing of the birds outside my window and to the noise of my mother handling the cooking pans. The sun seemed to shine the brightest that day, and it felt like it shone especially for me. I couldn’t help but grin widely. There was something that told me everything was going to turn out fine.
And I believed it. I concluded that writing my pain out in a letter like that actually was therapeutic. It gave me the effect of being refreshed after what felt like the longest month in college. I then had the sudden urge to pluck out my favourite book from the dusty shelf I had no motivation to touch whatsoever during the last month.
“I should start cleaning that,” I lectured myself whilst gently blowing onto the accumulated dust. I flipped the book open and my eyes immediately travelled along with the pages. I’ve had that book longer than anything in my lifetime. Whenever I was feeling down, I would end up finding myself in my bed reading it.
However, no matter how inspired or happy I felt, I had something irking at me every second of reading the book. ‘How stupid could I be to have actually mailed the letter to her?’ I grumbled and slapped my palm onto my forehead. “I need to text her,” I uttered to myself. With the book still in hand, I shifted my body towards the bedside table and plugged my phone out of its charger.
I felt my book slowly slipping through my fingers and hit the hard ground with a thud. My eyes widened in horrible shock as a terrifying realisation crept into me. ‘How could I have possibly messed up the address?’ “Y/n darling, there’s mail for you.”
Processing my mom’s words I dashed down the flight of stairs. “It’s from someone named, Jeon Jungkook?” She scanned the unknown name on the envelope confusingly. My mother watched me run towards her direction in full panic mode, “mom, I can explain.” I implied. A soft smile displayed onto her face, “you’re finally making some friends.”
I cocked an eyebrow and decided to play along what she said, “yes, that. Now if you would just hand me over that letter I would be fulfilled with extreme euphoria.” I joked. She passed me the letter and strolled into the kitchen.
My hands anxiously tore the envelope open and picked out the letter inside of it. My fingers gradually unfolded the letter. Not knowing what to expect, my eyes landed on the first two words on the letter and continued.
-
’Dear y/n,
You might’ve just mailed something totally humiliating to the wrong address.
But, don’t worry. I’m not someone that judges.
It seems to me you are suffering as a young girl that’s entering a new world.
But, you wait on an empty stage for fate to turn the light on.
Your life is an empty page that people would want to write on.
I am seventeen going on eighteen.
I’ll take care of you.
Sincerely,
someone, you can now rely on.′
-
Jungkook
“I can’t believe you actually mailed her a letter back,” Taehyung spoke, looking at me in disbelief. “I don’t know, hyung. Something just told me to do it. I mean she’s clearly struggling, she could use some advice from someone.” Taehyung shook his head a little with his fingers resting on his temples.
“I don’t think she’s going to reply. For all she knows, you might be a creepy sixty-year-old man sitting on his pizza stained couch.” He clarified. ‘He’s got a good point, though.’ I heaved a heavy sigh and threw my head back. “You’re right. I just wasn’t thinking straight. I don’t know what got into me.”
In the middle of the discussion, Jin walked into the living room and dropped an envelope onto the coffee table. “That’s for you, Jungkook.” He stated, looking at all the bills they had received. “Who’s it from?” I questioned, getting up from the couch and heading towards the kitchen. Jin shrugged his wide shoulders and placed the bills onto the table.
“Someone named, y/n.”
-End of Chapter I-
