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This story is dedicated to you if you have ever been abused by someone bigger, stronger, and seemingly more powerful than you.  You are not alone.  You are infinitely precious.  And the trauma you endured is not your fault.  Know that you are so loved.  And whatever trauma you have been through – it does NOT define you.  You are a beautiful rose, a lovely lily, a most precious gem.

Rated M for Mature.  This story deals with some difficult topics and involves some graphic situations.

Yoongi was lonely.  He was finally facing it.  He was surrounded by his best friends, the Bangtan Boys, every day, all day long.  Except for when he entered his cave to compose music or sleep.  But his heart was still crying out for something more.  

Success had come.  He had flown to the heights of idol status.  Only to discover how empty it was.  His life was full of practices, and grooming sessions, concerts and performances, talk shows and interviews, humanitarian efforts and fan meet-and-greets, brainstorming sessions and dinners with the guys.  Yet.  His life was empty too.  He had never been the sort to see the glass half-full.  Life’s flaws seemed to berate him.  It was the reason he wrote songs full of such anguish.  He had tasted the agony life handed out.  It was why he drank black coffee.  It reflected the bitterness that tinged everything.  

Now, he couldn’t escape his thoughts of isolation.  He was coming up on his twenty-eighth birthday.  Twenty-seven in the English-speaking world.  The world he was drawn more and more into as the star of BTS rose higher in the sky.  The brighter they burned, the more people they reached.  And many of those people spoke English as their mother tongue.

But he still loved Korea.  And Korean.  His native language rolled off his tongue easily.  He didn’t have to think.  He simply opened his mouth and blew air through his voice box, and lovely Korean flew past his lips to fill the air around him with a more comforting sound than the harsher English language.  He smiled momentarily as he thought of all the girls around the world who had written to him to tell him that they were learning Korean because of him.  Korea was a tiny nation.  But BTS had put it on the world map.  They had raised the earth’s awareness of the place that he called his homeland and of the mother tongue that consoled him.

—

She stared at the photo of Yoongi.  He was so beautiful.  Every time she felt a panic attack coming, she’d pull out her phone and look at his comforting eyes.  She wasn’t sure why he always calmed her down.  Maybe because she seemed to see her own sorrow mirrored in his pretty eyes.  It was good to know that she wasn’t alone in the world.

Of course, no one knew she was fighting that battle.  To look at her, one would think she had it all.  She had a successful job.  She had a beautiful boyfriend.  She had her own apartment.  Though, she wasn’t sure how much longer that would last.  Her boyfriend was pressuring her to move in with him.  She didn’t want to.  But…

She sighed.  Sometimes, she dreamed that life was different.  That she was still living in Queensland.  Close to Mum.  But she had come to Korea to pursue her dream of teaching English to Korean children.  That part of her dream she still loved.  But the rest of it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.  And every day she could feel herself getting sucked further and further into his orbit.  She didn’t know how to break free.

—

She decided to write to Yoongi.  She had to tell someone what was happening.  But she lacked the courage to tell her friends.  Or her family.  They were so far away, anyway.  There was nothing they could do.  Yoongi wouldn’t be able to help her either.  But she always derived courage from his eyes and his sweet smile.

She sat down on Saturday and wrote him a letter.  Finally.  A week later, she took her courage in both hands and mailed it.  It would mostly likely get lost in the piles of fan mail.  It would take someone months to read it.  If anyone ever read it.  More likely, it would end up, unopened, in Big Hit’s shredder.  But she felt better just getting it off her shoulders.  She already felt less alone.