(Y/N) POV:

The second I'm home, my feet are rushing up the stairs, ignoring the worried calls of Mi-sun unnie as she moves from the hallway after me, door shutting behind me with a frantic slam, fingers fumbling to close it, hands tugging at the clothes I wear with a frantic urgency, reaching for large, oversized clothes as I clamber into bed, body curling around itself.

The sobs I'd stifled on the way home tear out of my throat now, ugly shuddering shakes of my body as my head drops forward, tears trickling down into Habaek oppa's large sweater, body shivering with a cold that was internal, a cold that came from that icy blue that was the Ocean's claim on us, the part of Her that pulsed through our veins.

And no matter how many blankets I tug around me the shivers wracking my body don't stop, shivering, numbness spreading across my skin, fingers digging in to my arms as I burrow into myself, trying to make myself smaller, to hide out of view, out of sight.

The image of their shocked faces sear through my mind over and over, a repeating loop as I see the confusion and surprise flicker in their eyes, smiles stilling and dropping. I remember the bewilderment as they looked at me, remember flinching away from Jin's touch; so assured that now that they knew I didn't deserve it, didn't deserve this attempt at trying to be happy in the final lifetime I'd live. That sickening thought that they hated me, that they'd loathe and despise me, that they'd undoubtedly ask me to explain why and how I was alive, when I had no right to be.

The thoughts of everything falling away, of every bond and every memory souring for them, tinging with betrayal and disgust makes my lungs constrict, mouth dropping open as I try to draw in air, breathing getting heavier, head swimming as each breath is taken with great struggle, chest aching with the tightness as my body begins to cave in, shaking as tightness makes my throat close.

Lies. I'd spun them a web of lies by hiding my truth from them. And though every moment had been true, had been instances of pure euphoric happiness and hope and love for me, though they meant everything for me, it would mean nothing in the face of the truth.

That I was a siren.

And that I shouldn't be alive.

That I was only alive because I avoided death and as a cost brought countless others death instead.

I was a walking curse waiting to happen.

And when they found out they'd want nothing more than to put as much distance as they could between me and them.

The thoughts make my head swim and when I gasp, head falling back and trying to push free from the entangled mess I made by dragging the blankets away, the nausea makes the room spin, dizzyingly drifted in and out of focus, the pounding of my heartbeat loud in my ears, skin feeling as if it was scorching and freezing and everything seems like too much.

My hands curl around my ears, trying to silence the sound of the loud thumping, pleading for it to stop, eyes clenching shut to block out the way the world tilts and teeters around me when all of a sudden it does.

The booming thumping stops and there's cool hands, gentle and light tugging mine away and holding me, another pair cupping my cheeks and lips pressing to my temple, to my wet cheek, calm even breathing that coaxes and tries to encourage mine to match it.

"Follow my breathing sweetheart." A voice pleads, a hand taking my intertwined one and resting it against a chest, the solid quick thump of it guiding me to match my shaky breaths to it, reminding me that someone was there, holding me, helping me.

"Slow breaths cherub, slow, keep going..." soft and gentle, aching too but holding me, helping me through it.

My breaths shake, tremble as I try to match theirs, try to match the gentle light breathing and strong heartbeat, tears spilling over when I can't, when it worsens and my throat closes in a panic.

"(Y/N) focus. Slow and easy, there's no rush." The voice soothes, coming in distantly as having to pierce fog or travelling underwater to reach me.

My hand curls into the hand holding mine, clutching tightly at it as I lean forward, desperately stumbling towards the voice, mind panicking and screaming, constantly playing the broken loop of the boys looking at me, faces morphing with disgust and horror.

Slow and steady, slow and easy.

Gentle.

But getting to slow and steady isn't easy, lungs feeling as if they're caving in, hollow and closing around nothing, hand pressed against Habaek oppa's chest, chasing his heartbeat and head slumping against his shoulder, his other arm winding around me and Mi-sun unnie's voice soft and gentle as she murmurs to me, pressing close to me in a silent show of comfort and closeness.

"You're almost there cherub, take your time." Habaek oppa continues to urge me, guiding me back to him, eyes peeling apart as I try to straighten, fingers sporadically twitching as they reach for his shirt, steadying myself, head pounding as I raise my gaze to look at him.

His lips are pressed tight but he tries to smile for me, lips trembling as they stretch but he sighs, his own hand shaky as he cups my cheek, leaning forward, noses brushing gently.

"You'll make me age before my time cherub. Now tell me what happened?" he asks pleadingly.

"And who do I have to hurt? One of them? All of them? Tell us darling." Mi-sun unnie implores.

My hand shakes.

"We went to the large theatre to see Black Swan reperformed. They saw the sketches, they saw my name, they know you're a patron. I can't....I can't hide or avoid it when the truth is out there. I can't spin another lie when the biggest truth is out." I say, tears prickling at my eyes again.

His expression shutters, a frown appearing and eyes wide and apologetic.

"I'm sorry, I never knew they'd take you...that they'd find out. Even I didn't get to get you tickets and I tried so hard." He says with a grimace, fingers gently wiping tears that slip free once more.

His own face flits through a myriad of expressions, shuttering as he tries to take it all in.

"We can move. If we need to we can move. You don't have to stay and put yourself through this darling." Mi-sun unnie interjects, voice even and steady and strong.

And when I tilt my head to look at her there's not a flicker of that teasing in her eyes.

There's nothing but strong, fierce resolve. Unhesitant and determined.

"If that's what it takes, we'll leave. You don't need to answer any questions you don't want to." She insists, straightening up.

The offer is there clear as day.

And I can see the resolve in Habaek oppa's eyes too. See his nod and know that if it came to it, if they had to uproot their lives here for me they'd do it.

But it was a price that they were going to pay. A price they shouldn't have to pay.

A price that's only mine to pay and mine to shoulder.

"No, you can't do that. I can't do that, I can't keep running, I'm tired of running, I'm not going to make you keep running too." I say, shaking my head, shrinking away from the offer she offers.

They can't keep upending their lives over and over for me.

I can't be the reason that they keep having to change their roles, their jobs just because of me.

"You came with me when the whole photographer incident happened." Mi-sun unnie says pointedly.

I shrug my shoulders, eyes stinging with both my pain and hers.

Remembering just how terrified she'd been when she'd come home, voice raw and hoarse as if she'd been screaming, eyes bloodshot and hands tightly gripping at the coat she was wearing over torn clothes, body trembling and collapsing the second the door closed behind her.

"You were being used, they wanted you to sell your body and they tried to do that by forcing your clothes off." I force out, words sounding poisoned on my tongue.

Remembering how hard it had been for her, how it had knocked her back so heavily and how with each Ocean call at the time, her singing had trembled, had been full of a rage and agony and pain; eyes blank.

Her expression shutters slightly before she straightens.

"And you helped me through it. So you can bet we'll be here for you every time without fail. Sweetheart we're in it for life." she promises.

My heart shatters more and more, crumpling and clenching with gratitude.

In it for life.

The three of us were in it for life.

And recently I'd begun to think I had seven more in it for life with me.

But that mirage had faded away and slipped out of reach before my fingers had even begun to curl around it properly.

"If you need a break then that's fine too. If you need a breather then that's fine too." Habaek oppa adds.

What did I want?

What did I want?

With everything closing in around me, walls narrowing and the truth glaringly unavoidable.

There wasn't any more running, there wasn't any more hiding.

And even though I'd be left alone on the other end of it.

But they deserved to know, deserved to know exactly what they were stepping away from and saving themselves from.

"If they.... If they want to know, if they want an explanation then I'll give it to them. They deserve to know. They have a right to." I whisper.

But even to my own ears my voice sounds weak and distant.

And I wonder if it ever comes to it whether I'll truly have the strength to.

JIN POV:

(Y/N) disappears.

She rushes away from us, flinching away from me as she runs. But the sight of pain and fear drowns out every other emotion in her eyes and her body goes stiff and uncomfortable; vulnerable and scared as she rushes away.

Tae moves to hurry after her, confusion pushed aside with the need to make sure she's okay but Joon's hand darts out to tug him back; keeping him still.

"Hyung (Y/N)'s... what happened?" he asks, head whipping back to look at all of us, alarm and anger flickering in his gaze. Protective and defensive over her, worried that something had happened whilst he, Hobi and Yoongi were in a different part of the exhibition.

"Just...she needs air." He says, tugging him towards the sketches.

"That's a good sketch...hyung what are you—" he begins exasperatedly before Kookie cuts him off.

"Hyung you're a photographer. Look at it as a photographer, look at it closely, look at the name and look at the person. Who do you see?" he asks, drawing him close.

Tae looks rumpled and disgruntled but he leans in regardless, examining it closely until his expression shifts, turning disbelieving and confused.

"That's our (Y/N)?" he asks disbelievingly.

His exclamation has Hobi and Yoongi rushing over to confirm too but there's this silence that settles over everyone as a sort of confused understanding settles.

It's hard to process the conclusion we come to.

But (Y/N) appears to have been alive for what seems like centuries.

There's a reason why Black Swan means so much to her, there's a reason why every dance she's ever performed in front of us is exquisite and breath-taking, there's a reason why today's date made her seem like she was present and not. Why her eyes glimmered with tears and how her eyes roved over every inch of the surroundings as if it's so innately familiar.

Because as impossible as it sounds to believe, (Y/N) is the Black Swan, she's the original dancer, she's the legend of the theatre halls.

But the truth sounds impossible to believe even with the truth right there in front of us, even with the sketch of her right there in front of my eyes.

There's no denying that the slender toned lithe figure of the dancer is (Y/N). There's no mistaking the curve of her rosy full lips and the shape of her eyes under the mask. There's no mistaking that the Black Swan is (Y/N).

"But how is (Y/N) in centuries old sketches?" Hobi asks.

"Superhero (Y/N)'s power isn't dance...it's immortality?" Tae trails off uncertainly.

Immortality.

It sounds unbelievable, sounds like a twist of fantasy in something so mundane and normal and...ordinary.

It sounds extraordinary to think that the possibility could even exist.

"But immortality doesn't....it's not possible? How can it be?" Jiminie says.

I shake my head.

"This...this isn't the place. Let's just go home." I say with a sigh, my knuckles rubbing against my temple, trying to ease the throb that pulses at the sudden flux of so much information, at trying to process it and make sense of it all.

It feels like I'm grasping at straws, trying to make sense of a story we don't even have the mere beginning of it.

Yoongi doesn't speak, arm curling around Kookie and nudging him forward, silently ushering the others out in front of him, eyes flashing to mine in silent support and silent contact in the confusion we were all floating in.

And the car ride back is silent, a glaringly empty space where (Y/N) would've slotted into, a gap between Hobi and Joon, faces tense and frowns marring them where they'd been smiling and thrilled earlier.

Kookie's hands are tense around the wheel, a distantness in his gaze as he drives, the usual bright ambience of the car turned sombre and silent, everyone lost in thought.

And the second the car stops, Kookie's rushing out, keys left in the ignition as he hurries to the door, fumbling with it before stepping through.

I reach over to twist the keys, turning off the ignition and stepping out, following him through to the house, toeing off my shoes as I follow the distant sound of footsteps; sighing when I see the closed door.

A clear broadcasted signal.

He wants some time alone.

And it's clear that despite the way everyone scatters around the house that they too want time alone.

Yoongi's face is set into a frown, eyes shut and ears plugged with music and when I tap the screen my heart aches to see that he's listening to the playlist he'd made for (Y/N); I remembered how giddy and silently thrilled he'd been when he showed me, a gummy smile tugging at his lips, pointing out the pieces     (Y/N) had listened to at the store. It's as if he's searching for answers in the very songs he told me confidently were a part of her. He's listening to those fragmented pieces of her and trying to hear what all those unspoken silences had meant.

Joon's curled up in the corner, hands clutching at a book that sits unopened on his lap, legs drawn to his chest; something vulnerable in his posture and a dejectedness in his posture, slumped down and strings cut.

There's something tugging Tae deep into his thought, brows scrunched as he sinks beside Jiminie, sinking into his embrace, curving into the touch.

Hobi fidgets. Fidgets where he restlessly paces, anxiousness shining through in the nervous tic of his and when my hand stretched out his eyes flashing with confusion flicker to me, allowing me to tug him forward to hold him. But after a long instance, a stretch of time, he pushes himself away slowly, apologetic grimace on his lips as he shakes his head as he disentangles himself from me.

He's walking away, snatching up the discarded car keys as he walks out. Eyes meeting mine.

"I'll be back soon. I just need air." Voice soft and yet seeming to echo through the house.

Time. Air.

Had that been what (Y/N) had needed when she ran away?

Whatever truth she'd run from had it been so bad that we'd learnt it?

Had we not given her air?

Had she not had enough time to mentally prepare herself?

Was it something we were ever going to know?

Was it something she was ever going to tell us?

Air.

Had she been stifled and suffocated in her time with us?

Had we been too much? Is that why she had run?

And as she runs I realise we've been left behind with nothing but unanswered questions.

Nothing but an entangled mess of confusions and mixed conclusions.

---------

"That's it. I'm calling her." Yoongi says at the second breakfast after the date.

Fingers pushing away his plate as he makes a move to stand.

"What if she doesn't want to share? She has that right." Kookie says, sounding miserable, eyes lined with red because of fatigue and exhaustion and tears.

Tae's hand reaches to cup his cheeks, pressing a kiss to his fluttering eyes.

"She has every right. But we have a right to know too. As much as she's willing to share." He says softly.

Joon's hands keep curling and uncurling from around his mug.

"We might've been so insensitive to her this entire time and never realised." He whispers.

The thought that we'd been unknowingly causing her pain makes guilt curl around me, shame prickling my heart.

"We didn't know. None of us could've ever guessed that because of some reason, through some miraculous twist in nature, in fate...in something, she's alive, she's with us when she's been alive so long." Jiminie says softly.

"She hid it for a reason though. Maybe we were never meant to know, never meant to find out." Hobi says, voice sounding hardened but it cracks with misery.

We were never meant to find out.

She never wanted to tell us.

"We won't and don't know anything. Not until we speak to her." I say.

Stomach churning, appetite turned to sawdust at the possibility that she'll shut us away, she'll step away and push us back further.

I hoped that despite the little we did know that she was willing to tell us. To open up even if it was clearly hard.

I hoped she knew that we were willing and wanting to help her.

Even though I couldn't quite process the whole immortality spin, she was still my flower, she was still someone I loved and cherished.

I follow Yoongi out when he steps away to call her, ears straining to hear her voice.

"(Y/N)...oh Habaek. Why didn't (Y/N) answer..." and then he falls silent.

I hear his voice come out tinny, ears straightening to hear.

Whatever's said makes him harden.

"If it's okay...if she's fine with it we want to meet her." he says tentatively.

Sounding almost afraid.

Terrified of her saying no.

But his body sags against mine.

Relief.

"Thank you Habaek." The final words are soft and fragile.

But we were going to be able to see her.

Get answers too.

Make sense of the mystery we'd been left behind with.

Make sense of whatever it was (Y/N) had hidden from us.

--------

When I catch sight of her face, pale and blotchy with tears, body trembling as she curls behind Habaek makes me realise just how much it's affected her too. She doesn't meet our gazes, steadfastly staring at his shoulder, body swathed in a large sweater even though the weather's warm.

It hurts as I remember that she wears jumpers and large clothes to compensate for human warmth. It hurts that she's curled up in a posture that screams vulnerability and pain.

It hurts that it feels like there's a line dividing us from her, from the three of them. It hurts that we can see her but not hold her, her body shielded by Habaek's taller, broader one.

Mi-sun sinks back beside (Y/N), body a protective rigid tense line that makes me feel nervous and apprehensive.

It looks like all three of them are on-edge, thrumming with anxiousness, Habaek and   Mi-sun's eyes meeting ours with a mixture of steeliness and fear, a confusing bewildering mix.

"(Y/N) how are—" Kookie begins, but he's cut off.

And it's (Y/N) who speaks. Shaking her head at the question as she pushes herself to sit straighter.

Voice weary and exhausted and hoarse.

"You don't need to... act as if you want to know anymore." She begins.

"Why wouldn't we?" Jiminie asks.

Voice soft but there's no missing the hurt in it.

"Because... I'm me. I'm unnatural..." she begins.

Cutting off when Habaek and Mi-sun on either side of her flinch.

Faces shuttering, hands silently reaching for her.

She falls silent at their silent comfort.

Eyes flickering with guilt when they briefly flick over us, ducking away quickly.

Unnatural.

The word tastes like poison in the air.

Filled with self-depreciation and internalised disgust.

"You're not..." Joon begins hotly.

But the small bitter laugh cuts it off.

"But I'm scary, I'm a monster, I'm something that shouldn't exist and yet does—" she lists.

A weary resignation in her words.

Habaek's hand curls around hers tightly.

"We're ready to answer your questions. All of us. Because (Y/N)'s not the only one with the secret. Because it's all of ours."  He says.

The air seems to thicken, crackling with unspoken words.

And then Mi-sun's leaning forward, face bold and confident and determined.

A fierce protective resolve in it.

"And for that we should start at the beginning. We should start with how the three of us met."

And I don't know whether it's a tale we're ready for, with the way their bodies stiffen and curve close to each other.

But it's one that perhaps my ears were always ready to hear.

To hear (Y/N)'s tale.

To hear her.

For everything that she is.

(GAHHHHHHHHH! THERE WE GO! WE GOT IT OUT THERE AND I AM SO SO SO SORRY FOR THE MASSIVE DELAY IN THIS CHAPTER!! I WAS JUST SO STUCK AND I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO GET IT OUT THERE COS IT IS A MASSIVE POINT IN THE PLOT AND JUST... WANTED TO DO IT JUSTICE!! SO I HOPE I DID!! LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS AND THE TRUE TRUTH IS OBVIOUSLY GONNA BE NEXT CHAPTER SO THIS ONE JUST ENDED UP SETTING IT UP INSTEAD!! WE HAVE GOT SO MUCH COMING AND POOR POOR BABY SIREN!! SHE IS SO SURE THEY ARE GONNA LEAVE BUT WORSE THAT THEY ARE GONNA HATE HER!! AND ALSO ONCE THEY DO THERE IS SO MUCH TO HAPPEN BEYOND THAT! YOU GUYS CHOSE THE ANGST ROUTE SO BE PREPARED FOR THE HEARTACHE TO STILL FOLLOW!! WE ARE FINALLY THERE AND I AM SO NERVOUS!! CAN'T WAIT TO WRITE IT AND SEE WHAT YOU GUYS THINK OF IT TOO!! TAKE CARE AND STAY SAFE LOVES!!)

Question... any questions you want the boys to ask now that we're at that stage? Anything you've always wanted to know the answer to from the sirens?

Borahae! 💜💜💜

PurpleQueenie <3