Metamorphosis
Okay I’m high and don’t feel like writing all this but imagine IM is Emma’s ex and is always harassing her at school and always makes comments about her hair like how he wants to pull it or smell it or like nut in it idk. All I know is he gets pretty violent sometimes and it reminds her of when they used to date.
Basically he does it again only it was worse than the other times and she found her breaking point.
Jungkook wrapped on Emma’s door and stuck his hands back in his jacket pockets. He waited.
Nothing.
He saw what happened at school. He hated himself for not helping her. He screamed at his body to move but all he could do was watch in teary anger. He knocked again.
Nothing.
He fought with himself all day on whether or not he should be where he is right now, but he came anyway.
“Emma?” He tried the door. “Em-” It clicked open. Unlocked. The blood in his hands and feet began to run cold. He pressed his palm to the door and it glided open with ease. The house was empty. Jungkook made a beeline to Emma’s room only to find her backpack and a pile of crumpled clothes.
Light peaked from under the bathroom door across the hall and in the newfound silence, he heard quiet sobs. Choked, vulnerable, helpless sobs. “누나?” He knocked softly. “Emma? Are you in there?”
The lack of a pause from the other side of the door gave him his answer. He tried the doorknob slowly. “I’m gonna come in, okay?” He nudged the door open and was blasted by the eye watering smell of chemicals. The floor was covered in puddles of water and...hair. Not dog hair or the ones you pull out of the shower drain, there were bundles of soft, red curls scattered across the floor. His eyes followed the trail to Emma’s figure huddled against the side of the tub. Her once proudly long hair hung in sopping wet chunks at her shoulders. The rich copper color had been bleached. One of her best features, the very thing that defined her, now devoid of what gave it life. A few stubborn threads of red survived, but it was no use. The only color on her face were the tortured blue eyes the stared back at him. The shades of blue and green glimmered under the sea of tears welling from her eyes. Dead strands of ivory hair clung to her cheeks and forehead, along with streaks of dried mascara that had long run its course.
“Oh Em,” Jungkook dropped to his knees by her side and pulled her trembling figure closer to his. “What did you do?” His tone was sad. He wasn’t angry or disappointed, just sad.
Losing the battle against the mania, Emma collapsed into a fit of sobs. Jungkook cradled her head to his chest with one hand while he stroked her limp curls with the other.
“Done.”
Jungkook set the scissors on the counter with a clatter. Emma looked up into the mirror and gasped. The once jagged chunks of hair were now evened out and layered into a head of youthful cream colored curls. “Kook, I-”
“You don’t have to say anything. I cut my own hair so it’s the least I could do.”
He could see the tears pricking in her eyes, but she shook them away and wrapped him in a grateful hug. His hands settled on her back and his nose buried in her fresh hair that smelled of argan oil. “Thank you.”
Yoongi’s reaction:
His silence ate away at Emma’s sanity. Especially the way Yoongi was looking at her new hair. He seemed hypnotized by it, couldn’t take his eyes off the vanilla curls (now much curlier) that framed her delicate face in a new way.
Her heart began to sink at the thought that he didn’t like it. He was probably judging it, thinking about how much more he liked her real hair-
His fingers brushed a lock of hair and tucked it behind her ear. Her breath hitched at the sudden sensation, and Yoongi held the connection by her ear.
