I've been sitting here for hours—spaced out.

"Whoa, did you do that?" I lift my head to find Taehyung and follow his line of sight, realizing he's looking at my journal and the scribbled out sketch of messy lines.

The drawing reflecting Yugyeom's silhouette, and I quickly shut the book and pull it close to my chest.

"Sorry," he says, lifting his hands. "I didn't mean to pry."

I shake my head as I reach for my bag. "It's fine. I just—uh, I need to go. How much do I owe you for the food?" I ask and turn to realize I ate nothing but my first bite.

"You didn't like it?" He asked, slight disappointment in his voice.

"No, it was good... I guess, I just wasn't as hungry as I thought."

He eyes me suspiciously but doesn't push. "Don't worry about it. It's on me."

"I–" I stutter, wanting to argue before exhaling as I slide out of the booth, clutching my journal tightly.

"Thank you, Taehyung."

He nods as he reaches for the plate. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assure him about to leave when I hesitate, hovering by the door before turning back to him. "Busan."

"What?"

"You asked where I'm from... Busan."

His lips curl up slightly. "Well then, I'll be seeing you more I guess since you here for Mud festival...Busan."

I want to argue with him about it not being true, but I'm also not sure, and instead leave without another word, and head for the beach.

My chest feels tight as I move my hand over my collar before safely tucking my journal back into my bag as I embrace the chilly wind. My hands and legs growing numb from the cold as I walk along the sand until I find my car again.

Unlocking the driver's side, I ignite the car and search for a secluded place slightly away from the main beach to park and rest for the night.

After driving in rounds for fifteen minutes, I find a better place which is good to sleep the night away. I park it there and after thinking for a few minutes about my options I slip out of my shoes and climb into the backseat, where my pillow and blanket are.

I change out of my clothes and slip into something a little more comfortable before settling into the backseat for the rest of the night.

~~~~~/////~~~~~

The morning Daecheon sun bleeds in through my car window, shaking me awake. A soft, frustrating sigh falls from my lips as I turn to my side and hide my face in my pillows.

The blanket shielding out none of the light as I sit up to find the sun slowly lifting from the water's horizon. The beach is bare and the stalls around me empty.

A groan escapes my mouth as I rub my hand over the back of my neck to work the stiff strain out before pushing my long-tousled hair away from my eyes.

I reach for my phone from the middle console and bring it to life to find it's barely six in the morning. Another groan falls from my lips, knowing that I'm never going to fall back to sleep with the bright rays of light shining in through the windows.

I run my fingers over my face and let myself yawn before leaning over the backseat for one of my duffle bags from the trunk. I left Busan with such little notice that all I brought with me was a few duffle bags of essentials after deciding in the middle of the night that I was leaving with no idea when—or if—I'd be going back.

It was reckless and sudden, and maybe a little stupid.

It's been three weeks since I was home.

Three weeks since I spoke to my mom, who I know I've worried sick.

Three weeks since I've seen my older brother, Yoongi, and his fiancé, Hoseok, whom I've come to see as brother-in-law.

I left without so much as a goodbye, and I know it was selfish, but I needed to do this for me, and none of them were going to understand.

Yoongi has been protective of me my entire life, and ever since our dad died, our mom has been holding us close out of fear of losing us too.

She has every right to fear losing what she loves the most, but it felt like I was suffocating.

I love my family, and I hate that I needed to leave them behind to find some sense of normal, but it was necessary for survival.

Necessary for me to breathe again.

Resting my duffle bag next to me, I dig through it for a change of clothes and pull out a matching work-out set before returning my bag to the space behind the back bench.

I pull my sweater over my head and quickly pull on the white shirt before kicking my way into the brown shorts, fighting to get them up to the small of my waist.

I reach into a small bag sitting on the floor and get my glasses, and a small band to tie my hair in a bun only to stop when my eyes settle on the thick line of scar tissue on my wrists.

I immediately drop my arms and pull the sleeves of shirt down. The sleeves covering my arms and the tattoos that are hiding the scars.

Out of habit, I pull on the sleeves to hide my wrists and slow my breathing to stop the frantic panic about to overtake my body.

I try to forget.

I've been trying to forget.

But I don't think there will ever be a day where I am not painfully aware of my actions, and what they mean. I try to forget that day. To forget my lowest point and pretend like it never happened, but it's not something I should have to forget.

I am here.

I'm still here—breathing.

That's something to be proud of.

Letting go, I open my eyes once again reaching to the passenger seat and grab my running shoes off the floor, pulling them before getting out.

The sun's warmth hitting my skin as I shut the door to my old Bronco and lock up before tucking the keys into the hidden pocket of my shorts.

It feels like I've been running for years. It started long before Yugyeom d!ed—mentally and physically—I started, and never stopped.

I never wanted to accept the things happening to me and running just seems easier. Like I can breathe without the weight of the world sitting on my chest.

The sand sinks beneath my weight as I step onto the beach, creeping further down to the packed sand before running.

My lungs burn in the best way possible as my hair sways behind me in the wind, and it feels good to let myself go, even if it's the only way to get back to normal for a few minutes.

The smell of fresh saltwater fills my senses as I run waterside, hoping to start my day off right.

Every place I have been, the best way to see the sights was to jog, but nothing made me feel like I had found the place I was meant to be.

But the longer I run through Daecheon, the more I realize that it's more than just an attraction, but a feeling. Houses line the beach, the whole main street running along the ocean, and it's like inhaling fresh-baked cookies.

I come to a slowed pace as an American eskimo ambushes my shoes, his nose sniffing at my laces, and my lips curl up as I kneel. His fur is soft and a blissfully white coloured in the sunlight as he lifts his head to nuzzle my neck.

His nose wet on my skin, and I laugh as he nudges my shoulder.

"Hey boy," I hum as I lean back and scrunch up his face as I scratch the fur at his neck. "Out here all by yourself? Where's your owner?"

"Monie!" The dog's head perks up at the sound of his name, and my head turns to the source of the voice to find a light brown-haired man carrying a surfboard as he exits the water.

He whistles briefly and pulls the dog's attention to him as he pushes his board deep into the sand until it's standing at its own will.

"Sorry about him." He walks over, encouraging the dog to join him at his side with the wave of his hand. "He doesn't usually leave where I tell him to stay."

"That's okay," I say with a smile as I stand. "Monie is sweet."

"Rapmon."

"Huh?"

"His name is Rapmon but he likes Monie more."

I smile looking at Rapmon as he is wagging his tail around the broad-shouldered man.

"Reminds me of my dog back home."

"Oh, yeah? What kind do you have?"

"Maltese."

"Cute." He grins as he brushes his fingers through his hair, running his hand along the line of his jaw.

"And home is?"

"Busan." I reply still my gaze on the white dog as he scurries around the tall man.

"You're a long way from home." He smiles slightly.

I shrug.

He chuckles at my lack of response, and reaches for his board, resting it against his side as he makes a turn for the house further up the beach. It stands out from the rest with a massive white porch to go along with the rest of the white house.

I haven't even stepped inside, and I can already tell it's the house on the block everyone else is jealous of.

"I'll let you get back to your run, but it was nice to meet you," he says with a smile, lighting up his glowing skin.

~~~~~/////~~~~~