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[galaxygukk]

heaven in hiding

10 SUN SON

“didn’t you tell me you would ‘whip up something for me with no old fruit but all the fun’?” yeosin said, nudging taehyung away with a little lean of her shoulder. her face was nonchalant but the suddenly daring male’s actions made her heart pound against her ribs like a caged swallow in summer season.

taehyung huffed a small laugh. he was still close enough for it to whiff over her neck. strawberries.

he’d been so fidgety and shifty-eyed when she first saw him, but as the night progressed and the moment they were isolated, he pounced like a tiger waiting for a meal. with that analogy in mind, taehyung really did resemble a tiger in many ways, with his sharp, almost feline eyes, his prominent facial structure and calm, waiting aura.

“i did. but since yoongi is gone doing unholy things, i’m at the loss of permission to go behind this counter,” taehyung reasoned, finally pulling away from yeosin and giving her space to breathe. her hair tickled at her neck as she spun back around on her barstool, having unfurled from the updo sana had twisted for her.

her sprite was waiting for her on the counter, but the bartender who had tended to them was nowhere to be found.

“i’m starting to think it was just a ploy to get me alone, taehyung,” she hummed under her breath, just loud enough for taehyung to hear loud and clear.

“you just might be right, yeosin,” he chuckled lightly, and it sounded like a purr when he was that close to her. she couldn’t deny that he was indeed literally the most attractive man she’s laid eyes upon, but his deceit had thrown her off for a long moment.

swirling his cocktail in his hand (it matched her dress), taehyung spoke up in a decent attempt at civil conversation. “so, what do you like to do when you’re not saving people’s lives?” he asked, turning back to her and leaning his elbow against the counter, the other on the back of his stool.

yeosin’s eyes strayed to the widened crack of his silky black shirt and the exposed inches of gloriously tanned skin. what was even more interesting, however, was the peek of a large, black tattoo curling over the right side of his chest. there was also a line of words inked under his collarbone, and yeosin squinted subtly to make out the words. but they were in a scripture like arabic calligraphy, and yeosin could hardly see past an outstretched hand with the absence of her glasses or contacts.

the new appearance of tattoos on a man seemingly as elegant as taehyung made yeosin somewhat excited; she wanted to see where else he decided to draw on his skin.

“i like art,” yeosin said, half in her mind and distracted by the little details she started to notice of taehyung. he had tiny tattoos.... everywhere. not that noticeable unless you really look for them, but luckily yeosin was. she was looking for every little picture her greedy (albeit blurry) eyes could lay upon.

his favourite seemed to be scripts. words. foreign languages wrapped around every bit of skin she could see— his wrist, his fingers, his knuckles, his collarbone, the small space under his ear, his forearms. words and words and words. he must’ve written a whole novel on his skin.

taehyung’s eyebrows flew up in pleasant surprise, wide eyes gleaming with a different glint. “art? that’s quite a coincidence... i love art too.“ yeosin looked at him then, more curiosity in her eyes for him than his tattoos like a second ago.

“what kind?”

the question didn’t catch yeosin off guard, however abruptly it was phrased. she dragged a finger across her lip, dragging some of the gloss, and swiped it down the back of her hand. another useless habit of hers. “i like street art. graffiti on old warehouses and the back of government buildings. on the pavements and cross-sections in the street. anything that makes you stop and stare, either because you wouldn’t expect it there or because it’s worth the glance.”

she could feel taehyung’s eyes on her as she sipped her sprite in every delicate way that she wasn’t. she thought back to a few days ago when she painted jimin on the side of an apartment building in an alleyway, back to the hundreds of pieces of art she smeared over the city. she painted the town red when and where she could, and she lived for it.

“a bit of a rebel, aren’t you? you like things that aren’t supposed to be there.”

“there’s no specific place for art, just like there isn’t any specific way to make it,” yeosin argued calmly. “if it’s made and it evokes feeling, it’s supposed to be in the world. that’s the whole point of art.”

“have you ever been to an exhibition, yeosin?” taehyung asked while waving down a bartender again. “a proper, artisticly displayed exhibition in a wonderfully large gallery?”

yeosin scoffed. “i’m hardly in any place to afford a decent cup of ramen, let alone an art exhibition,” she said, bitterness creeping into her voice as much as she tried to push it down. she didn’t mean for it, but talking about her less than fortunate state always made her feel angrier at the world than she should’ve felt.

she met taehyung’s eyes to see him staring at her intensely. as though gears in his head were tuning over each other and removing her layers. she felt exposed, vulnerable, studied. “a starving artist...” he murmured, making yeosin’s lips quirk up into a wry smile. if only he knew.

“and you?” she asked in return, swiping a hand down the conduction on the side of her sprite. “what do you do for a living? still a student?”

taehyung got a different kind of gleam in his eyes this time, one that surpassed all the definitions of “mischievous” or “dangerous” yeosin ever knew, and damn if it dint make her heart pound. he swirled around the remnants of his blue cocktail in his glass, eyeing it before glancing up at her suggestively and taking the last, long sip.

it brought all her attention to the tattoos wrapped around his throat. these were in hindi, and climbing all the way from the base of his throat to the middle, like a sensual permanent choker. when he set the glass on the counter, he smacked his lips and sucked in a breath with satisfaction. “damn, that tasted good,” he rumbled.

“y-you’re not answering my question,” yeosin said, wanting to slap a hand over her mouth for the stutter. this man oozed sex appeal in every sense of the word.

he looked up at her from under the fringe of messy black curls falling into his eyes. “do you, by any chance, know of the man who owns T firms?”

yeosin’s eyes narrowed. of course she did. he was amongst the five richest men of south korea alongside the creators of samsung and hyundai. not knowing him would’ve been like not knowing exo. kim taesun. he was also know for being as secretive as anything unknown, and no one knew who he meddled with or what he did besides run one of the biggest law firms in the world.

“yeah,” she answered, interested in the smug smile taehyung gave her.

“i’m his son.”

[galaxygukk]

heaven in hiding

◣9 CONTROL◥

“do you want to have a drink with me?” taehyung asked, plastering on a somewhat sincere smile. yeosin faltered, obviously detecting something wrong, and slowly shook her head. the black-haired male’s heart fucking squeezed.

“no, sorry. i don’t drink.”

taehyung coughed into his fist, body flooding with relief. she hadn’t refused because of him, at the very least. “that’s okay. they’ve got sodas and non-alcoholic drinks too.” on a whim, taehyung added, “if you come with me, i could whip up something for you without the old fruit but with all the fun.”

he had gotten some cocktail making training for an undercover mission in his intern years at the mafia, back when his father was still skeptical about his flamboyant tie-loving, art-obsessed son making an exceptional successor. he’d given the now 25 year-old male weeks and weeks of undercover jobs and assassinations, relentless with his training and as cold a mentor as he was warm a father.

needless to say, taehyung was brilliant at his job by now.

yeosin, once again, humored him with a smile, shrugging her thin shoulders. without another word, she took taehyung’s hand in hers and pulled him in the direction of the bar, eyes searching for the clearest route to the rails of beer and bartenders shaking flasks over their shoulders.

taehyung looked over at jimin bewilderment. the blond was seated comfortably in jeongguk’s lap, who had his bulky, tattooed arms fit snug around his boyfriend’s waist and his face buried in his neck. he was probably fast asleep, with the way jimin’s silver airpods were in his ears to block out the club’s invasive music. jimin waved slyly and mouthed “confidence!”

“so,” taehyung said casually as he slid onto a barstool, trying not to focus on the fact that he had to force himself to resist a look down at yeosin’s more profound features when she was walking in front of him. “are you usually this friendly with strangers, or are we an exception?”

yeosin, bless her soul, didn’t even hear. taehyung watched with unabashed amusement in his eyes as she struggled to climb up onto the tall barstool, slipping off the lower bar with every effort to grip onto it with the gap between her stiletto and sole. finally, she huffed in obvious frustration and threw up her hands. “i cannot,” she said, “for the life of me, sit on this. especially in this damned outfit.”

wordlessly, taehyung slipped off his own stool and stood behind yeosin. her smell of those lovely grapefruits and freesia travelled straight to the patiently waiting butterflies resting in his stomach, setting them alight. “do this right, tae,” his subconscious muttered to him threateningly.

without giving her a chance to question his actions, taehyung wrapped his hands around her waist. oh good lord, they wrapped all the way around. he could snap her in two. although his face flushed with a pink far too warm for him to concentrate properly, he still lifted her effortlessly and set her on the barstool. yeosin yelped in surprise, throwing her arms around until they came to grip onto the bar counter before her.

the bartender behind it gave taehyung a knowing smirk, but faltered at the last second upon recognizing him. he almost rolled his eyes at the unavoidable reaction he received everywhere.

“i’m half sure that wasn’t necessary, and that i simply look really good in this dress,” yeosin said. taehyung pulled his hands away from her like she burnt him at that, making her laugh softly.

“you were struggling,” taehyung said smoothly, wanting to pat down the raging firecrackers in his stomach. he waved down another bartender because the one previously in front of them had gone off to hide in the kitchen, and ordered himself a light cocktail. distracting himself.

“as long as you help me out of it, you’re forgiven,” yeosin said, smiling widely at the bartender. “you have sprite?”

the bartender nodded and flashed her a charming smile. taheyung’s eyes almost narrowed. “sure do. could i recommend a sprite and lime cocktail mixed with something a little special?”

“she wants sprite,” taehyung said, sounding far more firm than he meant to. both the bartender and yeosin turned to look at him dubiously, yeosin a bit more upset than he would’ve ever wanted.

“...yeah, sprite is fine,” yeosin mumbled, shooting taehyung a look. the bartender flicked his eyes towards the now-panicking male doubtfully and went to work making their drinks.

“listen—“

“i really didn’t think you’d throw me off like this, you know,” yeosin cut him off. taehyung swallowed nervously, regret filling every inch of his body. “i really hope this isn’t you, taehyung,” she added, softer.

he sighed into his hand that ran down his face. “i’m sorry. h-he was flirting?”

did he just fucking stutter.

“oh my god, no way,” the sapphire minx beside him huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. and oh, how it drove him further off the metaphorical cliff he’d conjured in his mind. not too big, not flat either, just right— “you save me from hypothermia once, catch feelings, and now you’re possessive? is this like a rich kid thing? you ‘court’ whoever tickles your fancy, i presume?”

now she was leaning towards him, a finger pointed to his chest accusingly. taehyung wanted to lean back, really. and he should’ve, because yeosin’s eyes now held a blue fire in them, flickering dangerously behind a glossy brown sheen that reminded taehyung of a puppy at times. instead, he was leaning in, as though daring her to poke his chest as her finger so threateningly wanted to.

“what are you going on about?” taehyung made a show of rolling his eyes. why? well, he had a feeling he wanted to see the blue-haired girl before him get even angrier, wanted to see just how far that furious flush of pink could travel down her skin.

yeosin grit her teeth. “you’re acting like a jealous boyfriend,” she said. “i know it’s only been, what? a few days since we last met, but i’m really starting to think that i won’t be able to stand you, taehyung.”

now he really wanted to make her furious. if there’s one thing he picked up on her, it was that she used his name when she was extra serious or invested in her emotions in the moment. hell, if she knew his full name, she’d be spouting it to japan left and right.

right then, taehyung honestly thought that he had found her.

“i am?” taehyung asked, dismissing the bartender the second he set their drinks down. “well, if there’s no one else to do it for you tonight, i guess i should.” he wasn’t much of a drinker either, so the pretty blue cocktail he ordered sated him very well when he took his first sip. not to mention, he’d ordered it just for her.

the blueberries matched her eyeshadow.

“besides, i can’t have you parading around this club looking like that, and not expect a ravenous wolf to come sweep you off your feet.”

that must’ve been the last straw.

“i’m going back to jimin,” yeosin seethed, turning in her barstool and attempting (very much in vain) to slide off the tall seat. her efforts were fruitless, resulting in nothing except extra slivers of skin exposed as her dress climbed further up her thighs. on instinct, taehyung reached out and stopped her, one hand on her knee and the other gripping the back of her stool.

taehyung looked over at the booth they were in, to find that it was empty, save for sana talking cordially to one of suran’s friends, very much engaged in a conversation that involved wild hand gestures. jimin and jeongguk had (unsurprisingly) disappeared. he assumed jeongguk had woken up and gone off to turn his wet dream to reality with his boyfriend.

she could run off to sana, but that would make it awkward for him if he followed.

keep her there, tae.

“if you can find him, i won’t stop you,” taehyung murmured against her ear, lowering his voice purposefully. he watched delightedly as a thin wave of goose bumps appeared over yeosin’s exposed arms, and how her diamond lips fell open slightly.

“you’re being far too bold for the gentleman i thought you were.” her voice is merely a breath under the music from the dancefloor, but taehyung heard it loud and clear all the same. she shifted in her seat, but there was not an ounce of discomfort showing on her face, and that let him know that he wasn’t exactly crossing any lines just yet.

“that’s you fault for making assumptions, then. isn’t it, yeosin?”

she closed her eyes and took a deep breath in through her nose, taehyung watching in fascination as a warm spread of pink crawled over her nose and the very tips of her ears. the blush was so clear on her smooth, fair skin. it could’ve driven taehyung feral was he any less of a man.

“why are you acting like this?” she asked, turning her head towards him just slightly. if he leaned in any further, his lips could brush the corner of hers. the hand on her knee tapped at the skin lightly— it was freshly shaved and moisturized, and softer than anything taehyung had felt in a long time.

“you said it yourself,” he smiled. it was a dangerous one. the butterflies in his stomach had calmed, and now his blood rushed instead. he was in control and he knew it, and he loved every second of it.

“you’ve tickled my fancy.”

[galaxygukk]

heaven in hiding

◣8 THE BLUE GIRL◥

jimin pounced on her the moment they set their sights. he took her into his arms and swung her into the air, tearing a squeal from her extra glossy lips that shimmered with the millions of sequins on her blue dress. her hair came undone slightly from the updo of curls, falling about her face as jimin hugged her tightly. taehyung just about moaned in frustration— how was he supposed to keep his shit together at this point? after weeks of searches for escape from her constant image on his mind, and then accepting that he might’ve fallen a bit too hard, she was right there.

“jimin!” she breathed in equal ratios of surprise and joy, hugging back the taller boy upon recognizing him. jimin looked as content as a fluffy white cat as he snuggled into yeosin’s bosom. “what are the odds?”

“in our favor, i see,” jimin charmed, cheesing widely under the now-purple neon lights. taehyung couldn’t get up from his seat on the round leather couch in the booth, staring dumbly up at the pair of people — or, more specifically, the female counterpart. had anyone complimented her yet on how delicately stunning she looked? how the dark blue eyeshadow and silver highlight made her features look carved by aphrodite herself? how the blue curls falling against her neck looked like wisps of oceany smoke?

“get a grip,” taehyung groaned under his breath, finally gathering the energy and courage to approach the happy pair.

“how are you?” yeosin was busy saying, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her bedazzled, multi-pierced ear. “your hair looks amazing, by the way— it suits you way better than that gloomy black you had before.”

jimin touched his golden hair shyly, blinking down at the petite girl in appreciation. “thank you. it tends to match my general mood at the time.”

suran and yoongi had gone off somewhere to be disgusting, and jeongguk, ever the brooding tall-dark-and-handsome persona, was seated on the leather sofa with his legs still spread from when jimin was situated between them. and yeosin’s friend (sana, supposedly), was eyeing taehyung like a rare jewel in a ring store.

he knew that look too well. it threw him off, because the only person he’d be accepting anything that stemmed from that kind of stare was currently holding onto his best friend’s hands and smiling the most wonderful dimpled smile taehyung had ever seen. suddenly, jimin looked over his shoulder and met taehyung’s eyes, rooting the black-haired man in place in his stunned state.

this, of course, directed yeosin’s eyes towards him as well. taehyung had to remind himself that he (although briefly) had already talked to her and there was no reason to be acting like a little boy with a 7th grade crush.

with this (unhelpful) thought in mind, he gave a small wave and walked over, subtly nudging jimin out of the way so that he stood directly in front of yeosin. honestly, he could have fallen to his knees right there and then, because it was only now that he noticed how fucking small she was in comparison to him, with a waist the width of his palm and thin, delicate shoulders. he would never say it out loud, but taehyung’s attraction to girls almost half his size was unmatched.

“hey, taehyung,” yeosin said meekly, staring up at him. she reached his fucking chin. in her silver stilettos.

“hi,” taehyung said. breathed. squeaked. he didn’t know what he did, but it was embarrassing enough for yeosin to show him her dimples.

“i suppose fate has some sort of plan for us, since we meet again like this in a city the vastness of seoul,” said yeosin, and it was everything in taehyung that held him back from thinking about how her breath smelled like grapefruit. he shouldn’t be noticing that.

he nodded, uneasy in her presence. he was much more courageous on their first meeting, he realized, sheltered with the reassurance of a basic, comfortable first impression. but now she probably thought of him as posh and controlled as he was back by the bridge, and he was anything but in his current state.

fake it till you make it, taehyung.

[galaxygukk]

heaven in hiding

◣7 SPARKLY ABSTINENCE◥

jimin burst into taehyung’s bedroom as abruptly as he did into his life.

“tae,” the small boy breathed in pure excitement, cheeks pink with a watermelon flush and freshly dyed silver hair sticking out in every gravity-defying direction.

taehyung stared, unsure of what to do with himself, half-eaten toast hanging from his mouth and leg stuck in one pant leg. he was late (evidently so), but the last time jimin had come over was when he and jeongguk had a fight big enough to almost end them for good.

he hated taehyung’s home, but loved taehyung. it was difficult.

“tae,” jimin said again, stepping forward. his eyes were slits with the ascent of his cheeks, teeth on full show with the smile he gave, and taehyung wondered exactly what he should give the stars to for making his jimin so happy.

“it’s yeosin,” jimin answered his unasked question. “i found her.”

taehyung’s toast fell from his mouth.

::

“no, sana, like do you actually want me to kiss you in the face with my fucking doc marten, because it’s feeling very romantic right now.”

her pretty friend pressed. ah and over her heart and mimicked a hurt expression, big eyes as wide as her mouth. yeosin rolled her eyes at her dramatics, stealing a mcnugget off sana’a box for extra spite. “i just invited you to a club!”

yeosin glared a deadly one while munching on the long-island sauce-smothered nugget, having at least the decency to swallow before pointing a finger at sana accusingly. “and are forcing me to go because it’s ‘either the club or no wifi for the rest of the month’. bitch! it’s the 2nd, i’m broke as fuck and you know it— why would you take away my tiny privilege of watching hour long conan gray covers?!”

sana giggled prettily, which only made yeosin angrier. why’d she have to be so cute while being a little devil? the blue-haired girl could practically see the horns sprouting from sana’s soft, dyed brown hair. “well, you never go out anyway. suran’s baby-daddy opened up his club a few days ago, and she called me over.”

yeosin threw up her hands in frustration. “and who the fuck is suran?”

waving her hand dismissively and adjusting her ridiculous strapless bra with the other, sana sang, “just a friend of a friend.”

“you have too many friends.”

“so do you. we’re in this pool of snakes together, sunny.”

the call of endearment made yeosin huff. ever since jennie had given her the name at the mere age of nine, and sana overheard, it’d been a running joke. sana always saw yeosin as a grumpy cat lady who could do nothing but paint and get into trouble, she’d been calling her ”sunny” to mock her perpetually dark mood around her. yeosin just never bothered to be pleasant around sana because she handled it perfectly, and the girl was way too fucking peppy to be rivaled with.

the brown-haired model looked on calmly, waiting, while yeosin stared back, hands on her hips and fiery gaze in place.

“fine,” yeosin gritted out, ignoring sana’s delighted squeal and series of happy claps. “i’ll go, but don’t you dare threaten me with wifi-abstinence again.”

sana grinned a shit-eating grin that made yeosin’s toes curl in her previously mentions doc martens. “fine. but then i get to get you ready for the night.”

::

“are you sure she’s going to be there?” taehyung asked nervously, fidgeting with the buttons of the sleek black shirt he wore. it was somewhat an outrageous one, with buttons that only started at the middle of his chest, showing off peeks of the large tattoo over his right pec and the series of words inked under his collarbones. jimin had thrown him a few thin silver chains, which now hung cold and heavy against his half-bare chest. they clinked together with every move he made.

jimin, ever the gay icon in fitting red leather pants and a billowy white shirt which rode up with every swipe-of-the-hair he was so fond of, looked up from his phone to stare at taehyung’s reflection in the mirror. this only made taehyung more nervous, because although this was hardly his first time wearing something so... fuckboy-ish in public, the fact that yeosin was going to see him like this lingered on his mind. plagued him.

“103%, taetae,” jimin grinned. “heard suran telling yoongi she invited a few friends, so some special treatment was due, and mentioned someone named yeosin. now how many people do we know with that name?”

“it could be someone else...” taehyung said, sounding hopeful but feeling everything but.

jimin rolled his eyes pointedly, showing off his sparkly gold eyeshadow. “how many blue-haired girls named after a goddess do you even know, taehyung?”

taehyung felt somewhat woozy as yeosin’s face came to mind, all pretty and smooth and dimples with even the slightest purse of her lips. how’d god make someone like that without keeping her in his realm like her name suggested she should? “only one,” taehyung chuckled, ruffling a hand through his hair to give himself more of a bed head. he looked magnificent and he knew it. he hoped yeosin would know it too.

a loud laugh erupted from jimin at taehyung’s long-gone expression. “damn,” jimin whistled. “you’re in deep with my angel, huh?”

“you’re here now, aren’t you? i always said your mother deserved everything for giving me someone like you,” taehyung reminded the blond boy, watching as his features softened into gentle fondness. “might as well apply that to the one who kept you with me.”

“thank god you’re not crushing on my mother, though.” jimin pressed a finger to the back of his throat to gag, but had to force it because jeongguk had as much as done away with his gag reflex at this point.

“i don’t know, i really think i did at some point,” taehyung said, sounding far too serious for jimin to recognize the teasing tilt of his lips. this time, jimin didn’t have to force it when his throat closed up.

::

“i can see my beauty mark, sana,” yeosin shrieked, staring in utter horror at her hardly covered backside and the tiny black dot situated right beneath it on her right thigh. the glittery sapphire blue dress hardly left anything to the imagination, and although it sparkled prettily under the fluorescent lights of the club restroom, yeosin had never dreamed of wearing such a thing in a place with so many people.

she hadn’t thought much about it when she slipped it on (sana had all but thrown it at her), because she was too busy being distracted by the fact that wow, she actually looked better than okay with a little smattering of eyeshadow, a coat of mascara and a smudge of lipgloss.

it was almost funny how her hair matched her dress perfectly in its coiled up glory. yeosin felt like a cosplayer of a rare anime. or a smurf. it wasn’t a bad feeling.

“suran just called us to the vip booth,” sana squealed, uncaring of yeosin’s deathly glare at her blatant ignorance. “get your sorry ass away from the mirror and come have some fun, sunny.”

she dragged the blue themed girl out of the newly done, eucalyptus-smelling bathroom and into the sudden heat of moving bodies and drunken laughter. the lights weren’t as flashy as they were a minute ago, but the people were just as wild. it was beyond her imagination as to how people could dance about so shamelessly, hardly dressed and kissing strangers like they needed it to breathe.

“sana!” a girl called out in the midst of yeosin’s speculation, stealing her attention. a short girl (shorter than yeosin herself, who was already petite as it was), bounced up to them, her black hair even longer than her tiny black dress. she wore thigh-high boots and fingerless gloves, and her makeup was dark. like a goth succubus.

“i’m so glad you came!” she grinned, hugging sana, who just about wrapped her arms around her head because this lady was so small.

“of course, suran. and i managed to drag my hermit friend out for the night,” sana said, winking in yeosin’s direction.

suran gasped at the sight of yeosin, surprising her and making her place her hand over her neck consciously. it was completely bare (and cold), as her stupid dress’s sleeves only started on the edges of her shoulders. “she’s so fucking pretty, i’m scared to bring her to meet the boys,” suran giggled.

yeosin raised an eyebrow. “there are boys?”

sana grabbed her by the crook of her elbow and pulled her forward yet again, whispering to her, “you don’t really think i would drag you out to a high end club for one night and not get you laid?”

“of fucking course,” the shorter girl muttered.

[galaxygukk]

heaven in hiding

◣6 DIVINE HEDGEHOG ◥

the smell of spray paint hung low and heavy around yeosin, invading her mouth and nose even through the thick black scarf that covered the lower half of her face, both for this reason and for the security from any lurking cctv cameras, because god knows they’ve caught her one two many times.

black, gray, white. the streaks were all bleak and as dull as the pregnant clouds casting a deep shadow over the city of seoul. for many moments while painting the previously broken beige wall, yeosin paused and wondered why she would have to depict this particular lowlight in her life like this. it could’ve (should’ve) been happier.

she had saved him, hadn’t she?

and yet, no matter how much she tried to reach for the blue can of point, or the yellow, or the red, her fingers itched. because yes, she saved him, but what would’ve happened if she didn’t? something terrible, and that is what she painted on the previously bland, broken wall.

one more long stripe, and she was done. she stepped back and looked at her work with something akin to disdain. she didn’t like it one bit, but not even she could deny that it was wonderfully done. she was talented, but in this instance she thought it was wrongfully so.

there jimin stood, black hair wavy with the wind and gray shirt billowing about his stretched arms. she had added some and took away some things from reality to make it somewhat more dramatic, and that included the thin red ribbon jimin stood upon. the river below him was less a river and more a dark monster gaping it’s jaws of white breakers and teeth of jagged rocks.

yeosin wanted to paint over the whole thing with the brightest fucking yellow hanging from her belt.

she pulled her hands away from the wall, fingers now stained with acidic gray, and flung two of her empty cans on the cement carelessly. they joined a pile of broken crate remains and green beer bottles littering the floor.

yeosin wiped her fingers on her black bon jovi hoodie, and walked away. she was done for the day.

::

taehyung couldn’t sleep well for the next week.

day by day he drank every soothing tea his mother’s maids suggested for him and meditated in every yoga position possible even with his utter lack of flexibility. he visited exhibitions in japan held by favourite sculptors and modern artists. he even visited aunt lia’s zen garden in search of some calm, for goodness’ sake.

nothing worked.

he hated himself for it, honestly, but the root of all his problematic thoughts and dreams stemmed from a blue-haired girl with dimples and scuffed sneakers. and he was adamant about getting rid of the angel of a girl (once again, ironic) from his constant train of thought because he had a heist to organize and his dad wasn’t taking anymore shit after the last stunt he pulled.

but instead of secret routes from a borrowed bank blueprint, he was drawing out yeosin’s pretty eyes and a path to get lost in them. at this point, he was following it quite well.

the black haired man stared at himself in the mirror with frustration evident in the way he tugged off the tie around his throat. today’s choice was red, with bright yellow hedgehogs dancing around. it had been a close tie (again, he amused himself) between the red one and a slim emerald green tie with snakes slithering around it. taehyung’s fascination with unique, one-of-a-kind neckties came from his youth of oddity and exclusion from “normal” kids. he’d always been deemed different.

taehyung’s phone buzzed on his bed. on the screen lit a picture of jimin and him grinning in front of their old high school. taehyung didn’t hesitate to swipe the green icon, lifting the phone to his ear to mutter out a “hey.”

“taehyungie,” jimin’s sweet voice called out, and he could almost see the eye-closing smile he spoke through. “how are you?”

“well, i haven’t even opened the blueprint given to me a week ago, and dad wants a full layout and flawless plan by next week thursday for the heist on saturday. not great.”

“yeesh,” jimin sucked in air through his teeth. “you’ll do great anyway, you’re kim taehyung. my day was perfect in case you were wondering.”

taehyung sighed as he pulled off his tie with one hand. “i was, thank you.”

“anyway, the reason i called was to see if you were free tonight to go to a new club that opened downtown. jeonggukie’s friend owns it so he wanted us to go with him.” jimin paused and taehyung paused. the latter looked back into the mirror at the bags under his eyes and the dull shadow over his jaw. he looked a fright.

“but i know it’s been a rough day for you. try to get some sleep tonight, okay?”

“i would if i could,” taehyung muttered back, slipping his arms out of his now unbuttoned shirt. “i haven’t been able to get a wink of decent sleep the past few days.”

taehyung wasn’t one to spill all his problems at any chance he got. in fact, he was the most secretive guy he knew (except jeongguk— that guy had some issues). but that was why he loved jimin so much. jimin was made to listen and thank god taehyung found him in the time he did; he really needed a soft smile and open mind for many aspects of his life.

“despite your obvious distress regarding this super secret heist on saturday, is there something else on your mind?” jimin asked, voice somewhat teasing. taehyung almost groaned out loud— how did jimin always understand every situation perfectly? ever since he’d gotten home after (what they had both dubbed) “the bridge incident”, jimin had been more attentive and persuasive than ever. he knew how to manipulate any situation in the way he thought it should go, and taehyung wondered for a long time if he would recruit jimin into some of his projects. the boy knew how to win.

taehyung briefly recalled the conversation he had with jimin about yeosin. jimin had mentioned that he actually thought she was an angel after she pulled him down from the bridge, and that he would wake up alone. he did, in a sense, but it wasn’t mysteriously. he had been tucked into his bed with taehyung nursing a tall glass of wine in his kitchen, looking as thoughtful as ever.

he’d been thinking about yeosin.

taehyung ran a hand through his thick hair. he was due for a haircut (his father had been pestering him about it), but taehyung preferred his hair this way. he could tie it back when he worked out, and he loved experimenting with tiny rubber bands headbands. not to mention it felt amazing when tugged.

again, yeosin came to mind. how pretty would her white nails looks tangled in his hair?

“oh god,” taehyung whined. jimin chuckled on the other end, snapping taehyung out of his ridiculous thoughts.

“well?” jimin pressed.

“uhm,” taehyung started nervously, fiddling with his belt, trying to undo it while balancing his phone between he’s shoulder and ear. “you know that girl...from “the bridge incident”?”

“oh, how could i forget,” jimin breathed, voice miles more pleasant than a second ago at the mere mention of the angel. angel.

taehyung’s eyes slipped closed, as though that would help shake away the image of the blue-haired beauty that passed over his eyes like permanent sunglasses. “i’ve been thinking about her,” he admitted sheepishly, shimmying out of his tailored trousers after some grunts and “ugh”s of difficulty.

“oh wow.” taehyung could see jimin raise his eyebrows with the mere tone of his voice. “that’s... that’s really something, tae. do you...”

“like her?” taehyung finished. he picked out a pair of blue and white pajamas, the ones he got custom-made to have little red hearts littered all over them. it was a character he conjured up when he was seven, and he still adored his young mind’s creation to this day. “i’m not sure. but i don’t think anyone can deny she was sent from the gods.”

they both “pfft”ed.

“we have to stop with these divinity jokes sometime, taetae,” jimin teased. “however true they are. i’m as straight as a flexi rubber ruler, but if i wasn’t, i would totally think about her in more ways than taking her out shopping.”

“unlucky for me, jiminie,” taehyung mumbled, “i already do.”

[galaxygukk]

heaven in hiding

◣5 WORK OF ART◥

taehyung had tried not to let it show (and succeeded, judging by the girl’s pure naïvety) but he was somewhat enamored by yeosin. growing up in such a high end part of seoul never really warranted his exposure to the more unique individuals, who were considered “middle class” at best. his mind whirred as he entered the driver seat and revved the engine, marveling at the way the girl beside him grinned at the soft purr that resonated within the car.

she’d asked him to drop her off at a cafe, supposedly where she had to meet a friend. he could sense her little lie, however, but made no comment on it as she should’ve had a good enough reason. maybe she didn’t trust him enough to let him take her home, which taehyung accepted easily.

the drive would take about 40 minutes at least according to his built in navigation system following a long blue line that never seemed to end. just how far had she gone to find jimin about jump off a bridge on the mere outskirts of seoul?

the radio spewed out a gentle tune of a saxophone, which claimed taheyung’s mind and thumping heart. he hated to say (re: think) it but yeosin’s presence was dizzying. he could’ve stared at her for hours on end regarding her and analyzing her as an art piece in an exhibit overseas. he loved her wild blue hair and the deep ingrains of her dimples, her smooth skin and the small mole under her eye, her ridiculous band hoodie that was three times too big on her hidden frame, her chunky white sneakers that were now scuffed with dirt, the ink stains on her hands and the smooth white nails.

she was scruffy but artistically so. taehyung adored it. not to mention she looked like an asian version of his beloved rachel mcadams— (taehyung almost swooned at the mere thought of the goddess of a woman). he chuckled under his breath at the irony. “goddess”, while yeosin sat right next to him. his thought process amused him at times.

“i can’t do it!” a sudden exclamation jerked him out of his reverie, almost making him swerve the car out of lane (thankfully, he’d been driving for 7 years and steeled himself against any reactions such as that). the girl next to him slapped her hands over her ears and screwed her eyes shut, groaning in dismay as she sunk down in her seat.

taehyung, quite alarmed, asked, “are you alright? can’t do what?”

“i hate this music, oh my god,” yeosin gritted out. taehyung looked from her to the radio and back again in pure perplexity, not understanding how anyone could dislike the heaven sent gift of classic jazz. however, he swiftly turned the volume button until the mute sign flashed in the screen.

“i’m... sorry?” taehyung swiftly parked the car on the edge of the road, hoping it would somehow calm the gritty girl beside him.

she opened her eyes at the sudden silence and lack of movement, glancing around with wide brown eyes, hands slowly lowering from her ears. “i can’t stand jazz,” she almost whimpered. “makes me want to claw my brain out my ears.”

“unfortunate,” taehyung hummed, ignoring the way his heart copied the motion beneath his ribs upon looking at her again. “i cannot seem to live without it.”

yeosin scrunched her nose up at that, looking at him in something akin to horror. “how can you... stand to call what sounds like cats copulating in trumpets music?”

he stifled a laugh at her creative description, gazing at her with more amusement than a second ago. “it’s a saxophone, but—“

“my point still stands,” said yeosin stubbornly.

taehyung revved the engine once again, acutely aware of jimin stirring in the backseat through the rear view mirror. his cheek was squished against his hand and his knees were pressed against his abdomen in that small way jimin sleeps. “fine,” he sighed as he pulled back onto the road once the blue-haired girl was significantly calmer. “what would you accept as music, then?”

there was not a single ounce of hesitation in her voice when she replies with, “songs you can have really passionate sex to.”

“very much like the copulating cats in trumpets, i assume?” taehyung replied, although her reply strung a chord deep within his belly and echoed all the way up to his throat. “you do know that jazz is renowned as the genre of romance, yes?”

yeosin scoffed. “romance and rearranging a girl’s guts while the sun spills its clothes onto your bed is very, very different, taehyung.”

suddenly, the mere visual of two bodies twisted in blinding white sheets and each other’s limbs with the orange sunrise painting the room and their skin the colour of honey made his mind foggy, taehyung had to admit. with a dry swallow, he said, “but don’t both require a high state of intimacy between two individuals?”

“i could let you fuck me raw right now to evanescence and i wouldn’t call it love afterwards.”

taehyung choked.

[galaxygukk]

heaven in hiding

◣4 HEARTS ALIGNED◥

taehyung was not at all anything about yeosin expected him to be. she didn’t quite know why, but in the back of her mind she had envisioned a young, average looking male with clean cut black hair and maybe even some stubble. the only thing spectacular about him would be his voice, yeosin concluded silently.

but nothing, prepared her for what he was.

she undoubtedly did blame the cold for getting into her head and making her see things, but then two, three minutes passed of him walking towards them and that was just enough for yeosin to panic because she looked a mess and adonis himself was making his way towards her.

taehyung was tall, his height accentuated by the long coat grazing his jean-clad knees. he wore polished doc martens with soles darker than yeosin’s sense of humor and a black shirt to match. his hair was black as she had imagined, but unlike her preconceptions regarding him, it wasn’t clean cut. it was permed and long enough to cover his eyebrows and catch onto his eyelashes, the back curling against the nape of his neck attractively.

his face was a wonder in itself. strong jaw and lips in the shape of a flat heart. a tall nose carved into full but lean cheeks. and his eyes. the skies of seoul were usually too filtered with fine dust for the presence of a clear night sky, but his eyes reminded yeosin of her wonder when she first saw a sky full of song and stars while visiting her grandmother’s rice farm in the country. that was the first night yeosin understood the true extent of the word “magical”.

“jimin,” the man said immediately upon catching sight of the young man, breathless as he fell to his knees and cradled the boy’s soft cheek. his exhales escaped him in clouds , brushing against jimin’s face as he leaned in and sighed in relief. “you’re okay,” he murmured, tone as gentle as leaves against a window.

in the midst of the new arrival’s distraction, yeosin tried to heave herself onto her feet, but failed miserably, instead toppling forward and catching herself on her palms, which scraped harshly against the cold cement. she whispered out a string of profanity as she fell back onto her knees, ignoring taehyung’s surprised exclamation of “woah—“ and holding her bleeding hands against her chest.

“hey, hey, are you okay?” taehyung asked, sorry evident in his voice as his hands hovered over her shoulders, as if to comfort her but unsure of how to. they were warm— even without the physical touch yeosin could feel warmth radiating through the thin material of her hoodie. she almost leaned into it.

“i’m fine,” she muttered, a bit embarrassed about her clumsiness. she looked pointedly at jimin, mostly to distract herself from the beautiful male’s dark gaze. “you should get him somewhere safe. he’s been through a lot tonight, and it’s cold.” her voice was too breathy, too soft, to be heard well, but taehyung read her lips perfectly despite the bare minimum of movements.

he nodded lightly and slipped his hands under jimin’s lithe body, one under his back and one under his knees. a soft murmur escaped jimin’s plush lips at the new position as his much taller, broader friend lifts him in his arms and starts walking away. yeosin waited patiently to see what he would do— very uncharacteristic of her, she noted subconsciously. but something about taehyung left her wordlessly curious (perhaps as she always was, but not exactly).

true to her mentally unspoken assumptions, taehyung walked back to her after successfully nestling jimin in the backseat of (presumably) his car. yeosin couldn’t see the car clearly from around the bend, but a peek of the taillights and sleek black bumper was visible in the dim orange lighting of the yard.

taehyung crouched in front of her on his haunches, forearms resting on his knees as she stared up at him, observing. he’d punched his hair slightly out of his eyes, so it was fluffier at the top and inherently more attractive than before. how?

“look, i’m sorry for the way i spoke to you on the phone,” taehyung said, face unchanging but eyes earnest. his eyes were the most expressive feature on his entire body, head to toe. they spoke volumes with a mere word he could’ve said out loud, while the rest of him was stern and serious and unflappable.

yeosin sighed. clouds formed between their faces. “i get it, you were worried.”

taehyung shook his head of curls. “it didn’t excuse my behavior. now that i know just what you’ve done... that you’ve saved him from— disappearing like he so desperately wanted to, i owe you everything.”

“i take it you’re very close, then,” yeosin mused unnecessarily.

“he’s helped me a lot. a brother and a friend every person needs, but doesn’t deserve.” yeosin doesn’t say anything, because taehyung’s beautifully expressive eyes were now lost, gazing down at his hands in something akin to gentle nostalgia.

“i don’t know what drove him to want to end his life,” yeosin started carefully, catching the man’s attention, “but i do realize that there are many people in his life that would be a wreck if he did.”

taehyung’s lips pulled into a slight smile, gems for eyes glimmering through the smog. “you have saved seoul’s treasure, indeed,” he murmured. “i know that i am simply a stranger, but would you like a drive home? i give you my word that i can be trusted.”

he talked so eloquently, yeosin was convinced that he was of a higher class than her. most people were, actually, but he held himself taller and prouder than anyone she had seen, all the while failing to seem arrogant. so serious.

how was a boy as young and precious as jimin so close to this man, who in ever sense of the word was one?

yeosin sighed for what seemed like the eleventh time that night. she’d never ridden in a handsome man’s car before (hardly ever rode in a car, period), but there wasn’t a way in the world she would turn down the offer of warm air conditioning and a soft seat with the state she was in.

she wouldn’t let him drive her home— but thankfully there was a quaint cafe around the bend of her shabby apartment building. perhaps she could make up a lie about meeting a friend there.

and so, she told him as such while trying to get to her ice block-like feet (and stumbling, yet again). taehyung caught her this time, before she could scrape the already scanning skin of her palms any further, and helped her timidly to her feet with shy, warm hands under her elbows. “i’ve been sitting here a long time,” yeosin mumbled as a way of apology. taehyung hummed.

he guided her in sight of his car. yeosin audibly gasped at the sight of it. it was as elegant and as darkly beautiful as the owner, with neon blue lights blending lazily into the dim lighting down the sides of the car, and a sleek black body that reminded yeosin of a panther.

“well this is a really nice care,” she mumbled as she entered the passenger seat half in a daze. taehyung, who had held the door open for her, gazed down at her from outside, watching prettily as she ran her hand over the smooth dashboard and numerous lit buttons around the radio.

who knew when next she would get to sit in a car like this? yeosin drunk everything in like an overly satisfied black cat, melting into the seat as taehyung entered the car around the other side.

[galaxygukk]

heaven in hiding

◤3 GRATITUDE◢

an hour later, when everything was quieter than their breaths, the boy spoke up.

“i’m jimin.”

her eyebrows furrowed slightly at his sudden introduction. he was the jimin in the letter, then.

“i’m yeosin.”

jimin smiles when she says her name out loud. “you really are.”

yeosin huffed a laugh under her breath at the implication, about to suggest that they get up from their now-uncomfortable position on the cement bridge which had numbed her legs to the point of feeling she was simply a floating torso with arms, but jimin stopped her in the process of her moving her arm away from his shoulder, which she’d been cradling for the past hour.

“c-can you do something for me?” he asked shyly, voice a little hoarse from all the crying.

yeosin was quick to nod. “anything.”

jimin flushed pink in the damp air, highlighted by the orange lamp overhead which made his black hair look dusty at the top, like it needed to be petted down. “i... i need you to call someone for me.”

yeosin blinked at the odd request, but nonetheless took out her phone wordlessly. jimin placed a hand over hers to halt her actions yet again, surprising her into losing the grip on her phone. it slipped out of her hand and hit her knee, landing safely in her lap despite yeosin’s little yelp of panic.

“sorry,” jimin muttered thoughtlessly, digging into his jean pockets in search of something. “i need to you to do it on my phone.”

yeosin stared at the phone he held out towards her for a second, a bit thrown off to see that it was the latest model of the iphone. she looked up curiously at jimin to catch him staring at her expectantly, urging her to take the device in his hand with a glance at it.

“uh... sure,” yeosin mumbled. “who do you need me to call.”

jimin’s adam’s apple bobbed with his nervous swallow. “taehyung. call him and tell him i’m okay.”

yeosin paused and looked up at jimin then. she looked at him carefully. the name taehyung rang achingly familiar in her head, but she couldn’t quite place why and where she’d heard it before. without further complaint, she clicked open jimin’s phone while he lay back down on the cement, arms and legs spread like a dead starfish on the shore.

yeosin cringed mentally at the bad comparison.

the sight of jimin’s lockscreen stole her attention away again in an instant. it was a happy picture, that’s for sure, but it was still surprising.

in the picture was jimin, wearing a white t-shirt soiled with colored powder that decorated his clothes and his cheeks and even some of his pretty blond hair. there were lots of people around him, but he stood out as the center of the important photo. what caught her interest the most was how his arms were raised above his head joyously, fingers clutching onto a huge, flowing flag with seven colours printed on it. a pride flag.

jimin’s head was turned to the side, proudly showing off the rainbow painted messily on his cheek, his lips puckered against the cheek of another boy. the black haired stranger had his right arm wrapped snugly around jimin’s narrow waist, chin tucked in the crook of his neck as he grinned widely at the camera, a similar illustration of rainbow smeared over his eye.

he held out his free arm happily, a long black sleeve rolled up to his elbow to show off the three words printed on the inside of his forearm in colourful, bold font.

“love is love.”

yeosin looked back at jimin, whose eyes were closed and unaware, and smiled gently. being gay in a society like theirs was tough, she understood that, and briefly wondered if that was one of the reasons that drove him to want to plunge himself off the bridge.

she shook her thoughts away, deciding to bring it up later if she deemed it inoffensive enough. she opened the phone, only to be greeted with another interesting picture on the homescreen. it was the same black haired boy from the lockscreen, except here he was holding a tattoo gun in his hand lazily, looking at the camera almost mischievously, the numerous tattoos decorating his bulky arms on show due to the sleeveless black shirt he wore.

he must be jimin’s boyfriend, if the inkling of jimin’s reflection in the mirror behind the boy was an implication. he sat on a black-sheet bed, phone held lazily in front of his face to take the picture of the boy in front of a table littered with what seemed to be tattoo designs and sketchbooks and stubs of charcoal.

yeosin took a second to realize she was staring for too long, immediately huffing to herself under her breath and opening the contacts app. next to the name “taehyungie ❄️🐻” stood a blazing red “8”. 8 missed calls. after a moment of hesitation, she called him.

he picked up on the second ring.

“jimin-ah? where are you? are you out of your mind?” his deep rumble of a voice rushed out suddenly, panic lacing every word.

she recognized that voice as the one from the station... it was the person jimin had been talking to. with a sudden jerk, she remembered vividly how jimin had slammed a phone into the floor and broken it. where did this one come from? why did he carry around two?

“h-he...” yeosin started without confidence. “he’s okay. jimin, i mean. he wanted me to tell you.”

a pause.

“who are you?” the voice asked, dangerously low, but it was not unkind. it was the kind of voice you’d long to hear deep into the night while waiting for sleep, the kind that makes you think of velvet and black silk curtains filtering in pale moonlight over a white sheeted bed. yeosin wanted to melt at the mere sound of it.

“yeosin,” she answered. it might have been too softly answered to sound not as daunting as it did, like she was wllingly trying to be mysterious when in fact, she was half speechless.

a low growl sounded on the other end, almost making yeosin yelp. “listen, i don’t know what game you’re playing, but i need you to tell me where the fuck he is. right now.”

the blue haired girl clenched her eyes closed at the suddenly fierce response. jimin was fast asleep on the cement. poor boy must’ve been exhausted to pass out cold on the freezing floor. it really did get chilly in seoul.

“i’m sorry,” yeosin managed to whimper. “i saw him earlier,” (she excluded the fact that she had basically stalked him— perhaps it wouldn’t work in her favour right now) “and found him trying to jump off a fucking bridge in a secluded cardump. i’m sorry if you’re worried or mad or upset, but i just saved his life, so please rethink the tone you use to speak to me.” her voice hardened with every syllable she managed to get out, trying her best to speak as calmly as her fiery self allowed her to.

there was utter silence on the other end, so quiet that yeosin pulled the phone away for a second to check if the man had hung up (which he hadn’t). it was the suffocating type of quietness, the kind yeosin couldn’t stand.

“where are you.”

she placed a hand over her throat out of habit, breathing slowly and calmly with the feeling of her cold hand against her skin. no apology, no words of gratitude. exactly what kind of a person was she speaking to right now?

but, there was a numbness in her legs from the icy ground, and poor jimin wasn’t much better off either with his thin sweatshirt fanning out over his skin. she doubted she could get up successfully without wobbling on her hardly usable legs and in fact, she had no idea where she was.

“i don’t know,” she admitted. “by a bridge in a secluded cardump?” she offered unhelpfully.

taehyung huffed a breath of either exhaustion or frustration. yeosin was too cold to differentiate, or care. with the moon’s ascent began the evening temperature’s descent, and as much as the blue-haired girl appreciated the chilly air, she was hardly dressed to fight it off.

“put his location on. i’ll come get him.”

yeosin didn’t pay herself much heed when she blurted out, “what about me?”

“...yeah, i’ll get you too,” taehyung said, confusion evident in his voice. almost as an afterthought, he added, “stay put.”

absentmindedly, the hoodie-clad girl ran her finger over jimin’s clothed knee, brushing off some dust that had settled there. “alright. be quick, please. it’s cold.”

she pulled away the phone and prepared to hang up, but the sound of a faint, murmured “thank you, yeosin,” made her finger hover over the red button. a delicate warmth seeped up her collarbones and warmed her cheeks, for which she was as grateful as he was of her. presumably.

[galaxygukk]

heaven in hiding

◤2 THE LOST BOY ◢

— that was just hope —

she followed him, a mere shadow in the corners of the train while he sat as a conspicuously black figure against stark red seats. she didn’t know if he knew of her presence or not but either way, the last thing on her mind was coming out and making her presence known— solidifying her stalkerish behavior would not be in her favour in this situation.

the boy had stopped shaking but she couldn’t help feel unnerved about how... still he was. lifeless, almost. his arms hung limp at his sides and his palms gripped the edge of the red plastic seats loosely. one leg was straightened out, diagonal to the floor and his heel against the linoleum train while the other rested bent at the knee. his head was down, hood deeming him a faceless mannequin of blackness and nothing.

she stared wordlessly, fist closed around the square of paper with the four words that made her mind reel with meaning behind reason behind possibility. what was it referring to? who wrote it? who’s jimin? what did he do well? but no matter how much the unending thought made her teeth grind in confusion, she had a feeling that this little trip following a broken stranger would put her mind at peace.

or... not.

she winced to herself at the less favorable possibility.

her mother had always scolded her for things like this. i mean, following a stranger because of a phone call that could’ve been very well orchestrated to lure in a soft-hearted little lady such as herself? a high option in the list of why this was happening and why she let it happen. to be completely honest, she kind of had a feeling that however this turned out would not be best for her or her state of mind at the moment— but that was the thrill, wasn’t it?

would she get kidnapped? would a car crash into her while she hurriedly followed the stranger across the street? would she sneak a peek at a huge underground mafia? or a cabbage-worshipping cult?

possibilities, possibilities.

on a more serious note, she was more concerned than anything. the way he’d spoken and cried and just... broke had imprinted itself into her brain and affected her personally. she couldn’t let that slide— couldn’t stop thinking about it and she knew, she knew, it would plague her for the next hour to the next ten years. why had that happened and what had happened afterwards? the only way to feel better about it was to make sure she was part of how it all played out.

nothing left to wonder about then.

the train shuddered to a stop. her breath did, too.

the lights of the station filtered into the now-open doors and created a trapezium of light on the dull grey floor. the stranger in the seats followed the slivers of brightness, dragging his legs from toe to heel off the train like a zombie of sorts. the girl watched closely, awaiting the right moment, before following off the train in a more stealthy fashion, a few ten feet behind the swaying figure.

“don’t die, you buffoon,” she muttered to herself under her breath.

with the grace of a lame stork, she stumbled off the train.

and in she followed, through the station and through the city, following a seemingly drunk stranger through the hearts of seoul, dodging strangers on the sidewalk, too focused on a path that seemed to be set out in a red line before her and flattening herself against the windows of buildings she passed. there was a group of kids her age filming a cover dance in an opening, dressed in short skirts and ties far too impractical for the weather. they watched in bewilderment as she flew past them in a blurry of “sorry!”s once the stranger fell even a .sec out of sight.

the city grew quieter after a time of walking (she took a plentiful number of minutes to praise herself for wearing soft-soled sneakers instead of the clunky doc martens she’d initially fancied when picking out her outfit for that evening— it was great for stalking.) with it, her heart got louder in her ears, reverberating in her ears like the echoes of a bongo.

something felt off.

yes, a normal person would stop at certain intervals of this great voyage to consider if what they were doing was inadvertently safe in all aspects and not something that would potentially place them conveniently in harm’s way. but she wasn’t a normal person. not by everyone else’s standards, anyway.

she still remembered the way her mother’s eyes would blaze with fury, pure aggravation, at her daughter’s seemingly insatiable curiosity for anything and everything new and dangerous. especially that time she came home with the excitement of a treat-baited puppy, clothes soiled in guck and dead leaves from the winter ground, holding two garden snakes by their tails and presenting them to her mother like a bouquet of lilies.

“do you have no care for your safety?” her mother would shriek.

and she’d grin a wide, gapped smile and shake her head, wild curls swaying with it. her mother used to say all the crazy in her head went to her hair.

a sudden halt in the stranger’s footsteps halted her thoughts with it. she stared at the boy quietly from behind a car she’d dipped behind at the stop, watching as he looked around in an almost bewildered manner. she’d been following half in her thoughts, so she had no mind to where they were. all she could see was a litter of broken down cars and a small bridge. secluded, with smog hanging low in the air. she hated it. how did she get here?

the boy walked up to the bridge railing, peering over the edge, hands tentatively gripping the splintering wood. what little light the distance of the half moon and the orange streetlamp beside the bridge provided was enough for her to see his face pale, his jaw clench.

she almost jumped when the boy suddenly ripped off his hoodie, leaving him in a grey shirt, darkened with sweat. he shook out his hands by his sides, shoulders rising and falling with harsh intakes of breath. he propped a foot onto the ledge of the railing effortlessly, and she would be impressed if she didn’t catch onto what he was attempting to do and rushing out from behind the car.

the sound of the river under the bridge rushed into her ears all at once, heightened by her erratic breathing. the boy managed to lodge himself half onto the railing when she called out, startling him.

“seriously?” she screeched once she reached a stop a few feet away from him. he stared at her with incredulity, the picture of bemusement with a foot hanging in his inevitable death. “i follow you halfway through seoul, on foot, mind you, to have you do this? this?”

what was it? was she angry? frustrated? confused? sad? whatever it was, it gripped her heart in a vice like grip and it pushed her forward, forward, closer to the boy with eyes like the lazy stars blinking above them. seeing someone about to commit something as heart wrenching as suicide would take a toll on anyone, but for someone as sensitive as her—

the boy’s eyes darkened, a shadowed expression washing over his face. “it’s none of your business.” his voice was a mumble, but it shook. he swung his other foot onto the ledge, so the only thing supporting him was his arms, and his hand which gripped the railing like a lifeline, which it really was in that moment.

she gasped at the sudden change in position, leaping forward and grabbing his arm, startling them both and making his foot slip on the ledge so that it flew down. he was now precariously standing on the two-inch platform jutting out the side of the bridge.

“fuck!” she yelled. “fuck, fuck fuck no. get the fuck up or i swear to god, what the fuck. no, no, no, get up!”

it was cold. so cold. his hands which she desperately held onto, the taunting draft flitting through her hair, whispering in her ear, “let me take him. let go. let him go.”

the river beneath them was scary. rough torrents of water sloshing over jagged rocks with the sloped fall of the riverbank. no one would survive that. especially not the shaking boy she clung onto, who looked about as ready to fall as she was to start sobbing.

“listen,” she whispered desperately against the shell of his ear. his eyes slipped closed, and she didn’t know if it was from fear or the tears that had started to slip down his cheeks. “i don’t know what you’re going through to want to do this, i don’t know your name or who you are and i’m no one to dictate what you do with your life. but i cannot let you end it like this.”

his shoulders shook as he took in a shuddering breath.

she pulled on his shoulder gently, heart almost dropping when he turned himself around to face her suddenly. his heels hung off the ledge dangerously, hands gripping the railing looser than before. one push and he was gone. oh god.

her hands tightened around his wrists.

“listen to me,” she forced out through gritted teeth. she patted his cheek thrice, wincing at the icy skin. he looked at her then, but his eyes were blank. dead.

she was slowly losing his grip on him, both the hands on him and the mental exposure to what he was doing.

but she tried again. she gripped the back of his neck with one hand and pressed him into her as much as she could, lips against the tears slipping from his unblinking eyes.

“whatever it is that you’re going through that would drive you to do this— it’ll pass,” her voice was a mere mumble against his cheeks. he shook his head and tried to pull away but she pulled him back harder and nodded. “it will, baby. it will. but if you let go tonight, now, it’ll stay with you forever. it’s hard living when all you feel is sadness but that’s the point. you live long and hard enough to find the person, the thing that takes it away, and when it does you’re so fucking glad you didn’t push yourself off the bridge that night. that night with the blue haired girl crying against you and begging you to stop.”

“if i let go, i’ll be free.”

a sob escaped her lips at that. “if you let go of this railing, you’re letting go of hope.”

“what the fuck is hope?” he wailed, his resolve breaking. “what the fuck is it and why does it never, ever come to me?”

“you— we can find out. i can show you. hope right now is climbing off this bridge and giving yourself the chance you don’t think you deserve.”

he stared at her again, except this time it was different. his eyes glistened with unshed wetness, glazing over a flash of exactly what she’d been preaching to him about. there it was, as clear as day in his hooded eyes. hope.

she pulled on him. “come.”

and he did. he pushed himself off the ledge with the grace of an acrobat, swinging his legs one by one over the railing and falling to the ground unceremoniously. within a second, she let out the most relieved “oh,” she could ever muster and dropped onto his knees next to him, pulling him into her chest. he sobbed harder than he did at the station, hands grappling blindly for anything he could hold of her in the shadow of his misery.

“what did the world do to you,” she whispered under her breath, soft enough that only she and the wind could hear. the breeze carried her words away with it, weaving through her hair and drifting away like it was cradling the sweetest secret in its arms.

[galaxygukk]

heaven in hiding

◤1 THE VELVET NIGHT◢

— how does a heartbreak sound? —

it’s almost dark

the stage in the day when the sky bleeds blue into the reds and yellows of a dipping sun and angels poke holes into the silken black duvet laid across the air to let diamonds of winking light through. the narrow streets of seoul are littered with cars making their way home, but other than that the city is sparse in civilization for a few, rare moments.

in the midst of it all lies a girl. literally. in an empty metro station where even your breath echoes in the almost-night. the floor is cold against her back but then again, what isn’t cold against anything in such a autumn night in seoul— there are hardly any birds save for a few stubborn pigeons cooing in annoyance at the mid-september chill. her hair, the colour of sapphires crushed in tar to create the most striking metallic blue you could imagine, splays out in a halo of stringed blue around her head. her fingers, painted white to match her blinding nike sneakers, fiddle with the long strings of the fallout boy hoodie she’d found in the men’s section.

there’s nothing in the air— nothing— but cold, cold wind and a sweet, sweet voice. hers.

until.

the previously black film over her eyes turns a steady shade of red, like a flash of light passing over her closed eyelids and lightening the thin skin. her eyes flutter open in irritation at the sudden intrusion, lifting her head off the now-warm patch of cement she’d been resting her head on for the last half-hour to face the source of her newfound annoyance.

a train.

a train?

“oh.”

she’d thought that she was completely alone in the station. that thought and that thought alone was what allowed her to rest where she did and freely sing to her heart’s much suppressed content. but her preconceived conclusion of her isolation proved to be wrong at the sight of a figure, not big enough to look shady but not small enough to be non-threatening. either way, the young girl feels at unease at the realization that someone else had been here the whole time.

she doesn’t know if her unease stems from the way the stranger slouches dangerously low in his dark grey hoodie and his face, giving him the look of someone wanting to remain unseen— near impossible to see even under the fluorescent lights of the station, or the aura he emits. it smells of nervousness and something else that collected in the bottom of the girl’s stomach like a hard pit of discomfort.

she pushes herself up onto her elbows and twists her body off the floor, wincing when her palms meet the colder parts of the cement. she takes her time wiping off flecks of dust from her large hoodie and shaking out her long, wavy hair before twisting it all into one blue snake and pulling it into a knot at the top of her head that comes undone the moment she ties it back— all the while keeping her eyes on the unnerving stranger.

a familiar tune of a ringing phone breaks the silence of the station as the train pulls to a stop. the hooded figure takes its time lifting himself off the waiting bench while answering his phone. the girl can hear him well in the newfound return of silence in the station.

“yeah,” he answers, sounding composed, but it’s evident how his shoulders shake with the single sound. the girl doesn’t know if she should stay rooted where she was, listening in on a complete stranger’s conversation that met her ears clearer than water fell in an empty glass.

“maybe not,” she mutters under her breath, hands finding her pockets and pulling them deep down, enlarging the collar around her neck and straining the front of the hoodie. but she knows it’s simply word of mouth meant to make her feel less intrusive, because there she stays, a few feet from a seemingly unknowing stranger that shakes like tokyo earthquakes.

his next words shake as his hands do.

“taehyung-ah...” he says, voice as fragile as pansy petals feel. that one word (name?) echoes in her ears. if you could hear a heart crack, she imagines that’s what it would sound like. “stop... don’t worry. i’ll be back in a few hours— just went out for a walk.” tears. they glisten in the light and drip off his chin like drops of crystal. his voice breaks towards the end, so intensely he has to pull the phone away from his ear and press a hand to his chest, over his heart, and take in a shaky breath.

there’s a murmur on the other line, like someone grumbling a warning, and the stranger nods, pulling the phone away again for a second to sniff and wipe his nose before answering with, “will do.”

a beat.

“taehyung?”

on the phone, she makes out a faint “yeah?”

the boy sniffles, not bothering to hide the fact that tears are running a marathon down his cheeks at this point, and speaks in the most broken voice the girl had ever heard.

“i loved you most.”

there’s an alarmed sound on the line, but the boy ends the call and, to her utmost surprise, slams the phone on the ground. the display shatters and darkness envelopes the screen. that’s when the boy breaks down.

sobs wrack his body from the his shoulders to his knees, so loud and pained that the girls presses a hand to her mouth and blinks her own tears away, watching in mortification as the boy pulls a square of paper from his hoodie’s pocket and unfolds it.

he unravels the paper hurriedly, hands shaking as his eyes scan over it, wetting it with the moisture racing down his face. his lips move faintly under the shadow of his hood and he reads the words under his breath, low enough for her to be unable to decipher the meaning.

he crumples it in his palm, discards it on the floor next to his phone, and boards the train.

the girl stands in shock at the events that just unfolded before her, mind reeling and heart a mere contraction in the depth of her chest. oh, it hurt. what was that? why was that? surely... surely it wasn’t normal to feel such pain upon witnessing someone else’s.

the girl stepped forward, slowly, and picked the discarded piece of paper off the floor, unfurling it with unsteady hands and an unsteady mentality. what was on it?

four words. written messily in dark ink, splotched with circles of wetness in places but still somewhat decipherable.

「 you did well, jimin. 」

the train doors slide closed. on impulse, a rushed moment of decision made in the shallow midst of her unstable mentality and crippling confusion, curiosity, the girl sprints forward and jumps through the crack, onto the train, and into the life of a boy too broken to survive.

[galaxygukk]

tomorrow in tokyo

◣ 2 HEAVEN LETS UP ◥

genre: slice of life, romance, friendship, soulmate au type shit, college au

pairing: park jimin x oc (erika)

summary: in which park jimin is a lost soul in tokyo, and a certain girl pushes him through her heart and the city with an exasperated huff and a humoring smile. or “16:34, 11th November 2019. Remember it.”

a/n: jimin is pretty.

The air is still

For a second. One long, aching second, I want to ask this boy who he is. Why he came to the door of a young girl with a heart half-broken and more snacks than feelings at this point in her life. But the wind is swift enough to blow his silvery strands across his forehead and make his blue jacket rustle and let his sincerity shake me to my core.

He doesn’t sound like he said it for a dare. A joke. He sounds like what I feel when I tell Neha that I wouldn’t know how to breathe properly without her. All softness and genuine words that come out in a whoosh of air that could look like stardust.

“Erika.”

The boy’s eyes crinkle at the corners like paper of a dissatisfied writer. Except there’s nothing dissatisfying about it, and I’m no writer. His fingers travel to his face and he pinches his mask between two small fingers laden with simple silver rings. He pulls it down to rest over his chin, revealing a face I’m sure will haunt my dreams the next few weeks.

“Jimin.”

He steps forward, the tiniest step possible, and towers over me. He sighs. It’s a wistful one.

“I was in love with the idea of you. Now it’s just you. All you.”

I hardly understand, but I trust by the shake in his voice that he does. My heart doesn’t skip beats or gallop like romance novels say hearts do when you’re met with something that could change your world. Jimin’s does. I can hear it with the whistle of the wind and the huffs of his breath over my head, making music I could use as a lullaby.

“How?” I ask, voice barely a whisper.

How what? I ask myself. How he fell in love with me? How he even knows me? How he knows where I live? How I’m accepting this so easily?

“I saw you crying across the road from here. On the way up to your apartment, you stayed by your door for a full hour and cried and cried and you were so, so beautiful. I wanted nothing more than to take you home with me and give you a life laden with gold. I couldn’t sleep thinking about you. Didn’t even realize I was awake because I dreamt with my eyes open. I... I don’t know if that’s love but I want to love you. I want to, so much.”

Now my heart picks up. I tilt my head to meet his eyes, and there’s a flush over his cheeks and the very tip of his nose. My feet are cold from the outside air but Jimin’s body, which had stepped most of the way into the doorway, shelters me from the rest of the discomfort out of my blankets and my couch.

This could be a ploy. He could be a serial killer or an Asian Ted Bundy. He could only be saying things like this, things that make my stomach erupt in a swarm of sparrows flying together in the sunrise sky, only to rob me of everything I have and leave.

Or. He could not.

I think back to the day he’s talking about. The day I left a park bench in quick strides and broke down in sobs on the train back home. Dear god, I was such a mess.

“Jimin,” I try his name on my tongue. Is that even his real name? “That was the day a man broke me.”

“Then let me fix you.”

His eyelashes flutter as his eyes slip closed. “Fuck it all if I sound like a madman. An insensitive prick trying to make a move on a vulnerable girl— but this feeling? It’s not leaving. I can’t do a fucking thing anymore without thinking about the girl hiding behind the succulents on her windowsill.”

I look at him then. Really do. How the long strands of his silver hair catch onto the ends of his pretty eyelashes. How I can see myself reflected in the rich hazel of his almond eyes. How his cheeks fluff upwards to his eyes with the slightest bit of a smile and his tiny crooked tooth hiding behind pillowy lips naturally coloured like pink roses bathed in a dusky hue.

He’s breathtaking.

He continues. “Erika.” My name rolls off his tongue like honey. “I could be the disappointment of your life or the best thing that’s happened to you. For all the connotations my old-man hair gives off, I’m a person of black or white.” I glance at his gray hair again. “There’s no in between and right now it’s either give us a chance or lose the chance of a lifetime.” I don’t realize he’s stepped closer until one of his hands takes my fingers into his palm and the metal of his rings is cool against my skin. “Love at first sight? That shit happens. Who would’ve thought?”

I smile, because I don’t quite know what to say or what to do or what to think. Our fingers are intertwined now, and I’m quite sure that it’s the gentle squeeze he gives me and the warmth of his fingers that pulls me out of my reverie.

“You talk a lot,” I note. I don’t add that I do too— usually. Not right now. What am I supposed to say now?

Jimin smiles, accentuating just how handsome of a face he has behind straight white teeth save for that little imperfection in the front that I seem to find so endearing in my head. He looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t quite know how to phrase is, with the apparent shift in his nervous hazel eyes and locked jaw.

My heart beats at a mile a minute when I pull my hand back from his and set my palm against his cheek. Soft skin and softer eyes. I can hear his breath hitch under the unrelenting wind, like my hand evoked a sudden full stop in his running thoughts.

“Are you serious about this?” I ask gently, channeling the soothing voice Neha uses to coax me into seeing reason when I’m being impulsive. It dwells on me that standing here in front of Jimin, I am everything that is not what I usually am— calm and reserved and overall quiet. His words shut off any semblance of foolery I’ve had in me and emptied me out of unhealthy coping mechanisms until I’m just a shell of feelings and thoughts that don’t leave unless I drink them away.

Jimin nods, one step short of vigorously. “I don’t know if it’s love or curiosity. But it has something to do with you,” he says, sounding exhilarated in a way that makes me smile wider.

Give it a try, Erika, I say to myself.

“You’re kind of an idiot for not approaching me like a normal human being and taking me out and making me fall in love with you,” I chastise lightheartedly. “But what do you want to do now?”

Jimin is nervous. He’s a pretty boy, but the way his emotions display so clearly over his face makes him that much more stunning to look at. I notice that despite his distinctly asian features, all this time he’d been speaking in English, without a trace of an accent.

“I want to know more about you. Little things that could make me love you more, put a person behind the heart I seemed to have taken a liking towards,” Jimin says shyly. I huff a small laugh.

“This could very much just be some type of spur-of-the-moment confession. Just interest and not love. I could be the most boring person you’d ever met,” I tell Jimin earnestly, eyes wide and feeling somewhat hopeful that no, he won’t care. He’s willing to give it a try. Still.

He takes a step back from me and opens his arms wide, blue jacket that’s too big for his lithe frame rustling in the breeze, and he grins a roguish grin that makes my insides churn not unpleasantly. What was God thinking making someone like him?

“Fuck it,” Jimin says with a smile. Crude words from the sweetest pair of lips I could imagine.

Within a second, I’m returning his grin.

“Does... Does this look too hippie?” Neha asks me, words only a rush of breath as she gestures to the flowy semi-translucent dress you’d only find in Barbados-themed magazines. It’s a bit odd for a date out in Tokyo in fall, but it suits her.

“Neha, you’re a hippie,” I remind her lightheartedly. A pout forms on her lips at my response but she turns back to inspect herself in her antique mirror nonetheless. She smooths down the sides of her dress over the curves of her waist wordlessly, as though thinking more about something more pressing than her dress.

“I think he’ll like it...?” She says, almost to herself.

“Wear what you like, dummy,” I say.

I’ve never seen Neha like this, truth be told. She’s always quiet confidence and so self-accepting— seeing her get nervous about something as trivial as her looks (which are top tier either way, if I do say so myself) makes me honestly wonder how special this date really is for her. How special the guy is for her.

She’s only ever been in one other relationship that I know of before this. It was with an older man who bought her coffee every morning and took her to dates in restaurants neither of us could pronounce the names of. Sugar daddy type but younger than the usual one. That seemed to be her cup of tea— young but accomplished and financially stable, someone who treated her like the princess she is because all she ever does is give to others.

But he was married, and Neha was heartbroken.

I imagine this one must be similar to that. Probably polished to the boot and showing up everywhere in tailored suits and a black Lambo. Hopefully not married this time.

I push myself off her bed and wrap my arms around her arm, looking at her reflection in the mirror. The turquoise beads around her neck and the blinding white of her dress makes her skin look more like honey than ever. She’s a beauty. “You look stunning, Neha,” I say earnestly, grinning from ear to ear. “Damn, how do you manage going out in public with a troll like me?” I joke.

Neha tuts in a chastising voice. “You’re no troll, Eri. You overshadow anything a lost soul could call beautiful. It’s about time you realize it too.”

I haven’t told her about Jimin yet— if I had I’d joke about how he’d seen me for everything good that I’m not already. Lately it’s been less my thoughts that keep me up late into the night, and more Jimin playing twenty questions with me at 1am over text.

I shake my head. “I’m gonna go make myself a sandwich. You want?”

Neha grimaces. “I don’t think I’d be able to stomach it with all the nerves, but thank you for the offer. Eat well.”

With a light tap on her head, I make my way to the kitchen and rummage though the fridge for everything edible I can slap between two slices of bread. In the midst of spreading mayo over some leftover chicken from the roast Neha made last night, my phone dings in my pocket.

My heart is in my throat when I fish it out of my jeans and open the screen. It’s Jimin. Asking me to meet up with him later today.

Oh god.

Besides the first day a few days ago, we hadn’t seen each other again physically. It was all text. And now, the potential of meeting him again sees to be unreal. I was half sure that I was texting no one and that the first meeting was just a figment of my half-assed imagination desperate for some semblance of love in my life.

I’m about to thumb out a reply when the doorbell rings. Neha swears in the other room.

I grin widely, throwing my phone on the counter and reaching for the door before Neha has a chance to get it, ready to make yet another posh man uncomfortable about his gelled hair.

I pull the door open, smile still wide and proud, but stop short.

Because in the doorway, is a man nothing like I’d ever imagined would catch Neha’s attention. So big, with shoulders the span of my forearms and arms twice the size of mine. He’s well and close to six-feet tall and built to the bone, so much so that the simple white v-neck he sports can hardly leave anything to the imagination. His hair is dark and long enough to look artfully messy, like he’d run his fingers through the stands to ruffle it a million times on the way here.

And wow, he’s pretty.

But what surprises me the most are the tattoos. They creep down his hands from under the cuff of his dark gray jacket and wrap around his exposed collarbone. There’s a small flower printed onto the delicate arch of his cheekbone under shadowy, round eyes.

“Uhm, hi,” he says shyly. I catch the tips of his ears turn a steady shade of pink under his dark hair. His voice is soft, sweet in contrast to his intimidating appearance.

“Hi,” I say. “Who are you?”

The boy — man? — flushes again and brings up a hand to ruffle his locks nervously. He gives me a small smile that’s equal parts cute and unnerving. How is his face so different from the rest of him?

“Uh, actually I’m here for ... Neha? My name’s—“

“Jeongguk.”

We both turn simultaneously to see Neha standing there, hands clasped together in front of her and hair done in a pretty updo that makes her face look all the more magnificent. She looks positively exhilarated at the sight of the man in the door, eyes as wide as her smile.

I step back from the door as she comes forward hurriedly, arms spread out. Jeongguk accepts her embrace happily, lips spread in a grin that gives him the semblance of a bunny. His arms wrap around her small waist almost without a thought, pressing her to him as his face buries itself in her neck. Neha laughs sweetly and runs her fingers through his hair.

It feels like an invasion of privacy to watch how they cling to each other, so I return to the kitchen without a word. How long have they known each other to hold on like that?

Neha is the one to pull away first, although with great amount of effort. My heart is fluttery in a way that tells me I’m happy and nervous for her, for the bright stars in her hazel eyes and the wide smile adorning her face. One of her arms stays around “Jeongguk’s” shoulder while the other tucks back strands of hair behind her ear delicately.

“Erika,” she says happily, “this is Jeongguk, my boyfriend. He’s from Korea.”

“Oh wow,” I say. Boyfriend. Already? “It’s great to meet you, Jeongguk!” And it is, to some extent. “I’m Erika. You planning to take good care of Neha while u kidnap her for the day?” My tone is joking, playful, but I give him a steady stare that has his brow furrowing slightly. Yet there’s understanding in his eyes.

“Sure will, ma’am,” he grins roguishly. It makes him look more like a boyish college dropout than ever.

Neha steps over to me and gives me a quick, tight hug. She smells like honey and coconuts, but there’s something new under her natural scent— perfume? “I’ll be back by midnight,” she promises. “Don’t stay up too late and eat something healthy, okay?”

I roll my eyes, muttering a little “yes, mom” under my breath. She chuckles and presses a kiss to the tip of my nose. “I love you, Eri.”

I return her soft words with similar ones of my own and watch her leave our quaint shared apartment, hand in hand with a boy who throws me a pleasant smile and mouths “thank you” for god knows what. But I’m glad he did, because I deserve to be thanked.

Jimin calls me for the first time ever. It’s been a week since the day I read his texts about wanting to meet up, and just hadn’t found the courage or the right words to reply or— say anything, actually.

My heart runs a whole circuit in my chest, pressing discomfortingly against my rib cage as I pick up my phone with unsteady fingers and pause my episode of Brooklyn 99 haltingly.

I stare at his name. The letters seem to mesh together and deform after a few seconds, and that is when I swallow my fears and swipe my thumb across the screen.

I say nothing.

Jimin breathes a sigh on the other end after a time. Then, finally,

“Hey.”

“Hi,” I reply, voice barely a whisper.

A second pases. Then two.

“What are doing right now?” Jimin asks. His voice is low and soothing, the type of tone you would use when you’re beckoning a small creature in the woods your way, afraid it’ll flee with the slightest loud sound. There’s some rustling on his end, as though he’s busying himself with something other than the lack of my response.

“Nothing much.” Dear god, I am bland. “...You?”

There is a laugh; slightly exasperated. “I’m actually at a skating rink right now. I know this is really sudden and all but— you don’t think you could come down here, could you?” he asks in a tone so hopeful I pull the phone away from my ear, press a hand to my heart and inhale deeply.

“Right now?” I ask incredulously.

“If you can, yeah.”

I look up at the time— the infamous clock above the stove reads ten to 9.

“Aren’t all the skating rinks supposed to be closed now? It’s a Sunday,” I point out, but nevertheless I am pushing my blankets aside and escaping into my room to change out of my bright yellow pajamas into something more agreeable with the breezy weather outside.

“Actually, I have the keys to this one, so we should be okay.” There’s a sound similar to a Velcro strap opening. “Does this mean you’re actually coming?”

He’s hopeful again.

I smile to myself. “Sure thing. Text me the address, I’ll be there in ten.”

[galaxygukk]

tomorrow in tokyo

◣ 1 THE DAY ◥

genre: slice of life, romance, friendship, soulmate au type shit, college au

pairing: park jimin x oc (erika)

summary: in which park jimin is a lost soul in tokyo, and a certain girl pushes him through her heart and the city with an exasperated huff and a humoring smile. or “16:34, 11th November 2019. Remember it.”

a/n: this is for you, erika. i love u.

My feet stop abruptly in the doorway of the shared bedroom. It’s dark save for the small nightlight by my roommate’s desk and the reflection of the white pages through her reading glasses. She looks up dubiously, and at the sight of me, drops her book.

I bite back a sob.

“Erika,” she breathes, rushing out of bed and towards me with quick, lightweight steps so much unlike how I’d stomped my way to her. Her arms find me and pulls me into her slightly taller, slighter frame. My tears have stopped but my heart aches at the way she holds me so carefully. Her whispers of comfort are low and soft against the crown of my head. Everyone should treat me like she does.

But they don’t.

“Is this what men do to you?” I ask helplessly, in a way that knows I won’t get an answer but doesn’t stop me praying for one.

“Men do to you only what you allow,” Neha mutters in response. “And what you allowed him to do to you was something I won’t allow again.”

I hum in retaliation, eyes slipping closed and nuzzling my cheek into her sweater-clad shoulder, surrounding myself in her scent of coconut milk, honey and love.

“Nevertheless...” she continues. There’s something of a smile in her lilting voice, laced with the slightest trace of her English accent. She pats down the newly cut bangs I’d given myself ten minutes ago over my forehead. “I think choppy bangs look lovely on you.”

I scoff indignantly. “Yeah right.”

“Nothing a little trim can’t fix, love.”

“Do you wanna go to a cat café this weekend?”

Neha stops stirring her cup of milky tea and looks up at me in surprise. She looks lovely today, with her sleek black hair pulled back into braids and a small clover pendant resting between her collarbones. “This weekend? I thought you had a paper due Monday?”

I shake my head and take a long sip of my homemade bubble tea. It tastes disgusting but I’m used to it. “I finished up the essay last night. Couldn’t sleep so I figured I might as well do it.” And true to my word, I had stayed up until 6am typing and erasing word after word until I’d reached the 3000 word mark. Truth be told, I hadn’t even gone to sleep, but rather stayed in the kitchen with my laptop open, closing reference tab after reference tab in my browser until Neha stumbled in for coffee looking less elegant than usual.

I drum my fingers on my thigh, anxious for her response.

“Oh Erika, I do wish you’d told me earlier,” my best friend sighs. She swipes the backs of her fingers over the countertop as though to brush away any crumbs. It‘s a habit of hers. “I have a... a date.”

My fingers stop.

“No way.”

“Hey!” Neha laughs. “I ought to think you deem me incapable of ever getting one with that reaction.”

I shake my head frantically. My heart is somewhere stuck in the middle of dropping down to my stomach and soaring up to my throat, uncomfortable and confused as to how I should feel. “No! No no, it’s not that. It’s just...”

Of course she would get someone besides me in her life eventually. It was just sudden, is all. All my life since I’d met Neha, she’d been all for me. Supporting me and giving me advice and cleaning up my reckless messy days. She’d never once showed the smallest sign of wanting something or someone other than our friendship and that was quite possibly the only thing I felt most secure about.

I feel sick. Selfish. Uncaring.

“I’m so happy for you!” I say. It’s terrible that I sound convincing to neither myself nor her. A furrow appears in her brow, a look of worry and slight discomfort falling over her unique features. My heart makes it’s decision and drops to my gut once I realize how utterly horrible I sound. I rush to add, quite helplessly, “What’s he like?”

She gives me a scrutinizing look, as though she’s trying to peel back my skin and bare my true thoughts to her. I half want her to, so that we may both know exactly what I’m feeling right now.

“Thank you... Honestly, I was worried about telling you since I get it could be quite sudden.” I frown to myself at her wary tone. “As for what he’s like— and honey, I’m so sorry this is all happening in such a rush— but he’s coming to pick me up this Saturday. You can meet him if you like?”

“Hold on,” I say. “When and where did you two meet?”

Neha flushes slightly, only the slightest tint of red over her cheeks due to her naturally golden complexion. She looks up at the clock hanging on the wall over the stove. Another nervous habit.

“Ah... I think that’s enough for today...” she laughs heartily. It’s a pretty sound, but it’s nervous. “Don’t want to lay too much on you!”

I accept her deft aversion of my question, wondering just what she has to hide. I’m in no place to push her, though, judging by how I’d reacted. I push my bangs back with an exasperated hand at the remembrance of my idiocy. “Hey, Neha?”

She’d gotten out of her stool in favour of dumping the remnants of her milk tea down to drain, back to me. “Hm?”

“I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t act oblivious. She doesn’t pretend to not know why. She doesn’t even turn back to me. But her voice is understanding and soft in that way Neha is when she replies. “I love you.”

I vaguely hear her say something else about going out to meet Leonie, one of her friends who’d traveled to Tokyo from Germany for a college research project on cultural differences around the globe. I’d only met her twice, once through a FaceTime and another when she came over to meet Neha for the first time in Tokyo. All I know about her is that she’s a wildfire of a girl with beautiful curls to match and has a bank account of gold, courtesy of her loving grandmother.

She’s Neha’s friend. I have friends too, but Neha and I don’t quite do well without each other. We’ve become each other’s coping mechanisms and I found that beautiful yet scary all at once. I don’t think the word “friend” does Neha justice for what she means to me. So when she’d told me that she was going on a date... that meant a boyfriend. Someone who could potentially become more important than me.

In my peripheral line of vision, I see Neha leave the apartment wearing an eye-catching buttercream yellow skirt. She calls out a farewell. I return it weakly.

I sit in my stool for the next hour, worrying about a future I’d cast a curtain of shadow over and said goodnight to.

It’s during my seventh episode of Friends Season 6 that the doorbell rings.

I look around myself pathetically at the self made barricade of blankets, KitKat bars and Taki’s. How did this even happen?

With an enormous amount of effort (that I’ll probably be laughing at myself for later), I wriggle myself out from under the blankets with mumbles of “dammit, what the fuck erika how the fuck even—“ and stumble onto the floor off the couch. I check my reflection in the mirror around the corner from the front door. My skin lacks pallour and my bangs stick out in different directions that defy gravity.

I shrug. “Ah!” I cry out, suddenly remembering the pen set I’d ordered a few days ago off eBay. It’s probably the delivery guy.

I pull the door open the moment the person outside rings the doorbell again impatiently. To my surprise, instead of a tall, lanky Japanese boy with acne scars holding my package, a guy in a fluffy blue jacket stands in the doorway, mask pulled up to cover the lower half of his face and hair a peculiar shade of silver.

The open door let’s in the cold late afternoon Tokyo breeze, wafting in wind and with it, the stranger’s vague scent of rain and polished wood.

I open my mouth to ask for his identity, but he stops me in my tracks.

“16:34, 11th November 2019. Remember it.”

“I— what?”

“The time I met the love of my life.”