A story where Park Jimin is a famous celebrity artist and Min Yoongi is a reporter.
Min Yoongi's only job is to tag after Park Jimin and gather as many information about him as possible. Even though, he doesn't like the man, he has no choice. If he...
Crisp golden leaves lay like a blanket on the forest floor. Startled birds shot from the empty branches like a bullet, as twigs snapped and leaves crunched under Yoongi's feet. The sun hung low in the sky, it's rays shining through the last few hanging leaves, illuminating the auburn, yellow and orange veins that ran through them. The autumn sky was drenched in hues of oranges, pinks and purples while the trees exhibited rage and fury as their colors had made their final flight to the soil. Golden brown carpet of leaves, crunch underfoot, quiver in gusts of wind. Shaggy autumnal decrepitude, dishevelled beauty in gold and scarlet. It was all so calm, yet Yoongi felt nothing like so.
His eyes were red, both from the lack of sleep and for crying too long. His phone was clutched near to his heart in hopes for a message that probably won't come anytime soon. His eyes flickered around the empty park. He was waiting. Waiting as long as it took. XYZ Entertainment had announced a small concert of sorts in the central park. It wasn't anything special, more like a thank you gift from the company to their fans and supporters. And Yoongi had decided to show up earlier than the fans in hope that he might have the slightest chance to getting to see Jimin.
Akio's case was still going on and Jimin's name wasn't yet cleared. But people had forgotten about his name in that article after more dirt was discovered under the rapper's name. He shivered a little as the chilly breeze grazed past him.
He opened his phone to read over the messages that weren't delivered.
Yoonie hyung
08|24
Jimin?
Jimin, please trust me
It wasn't me
I swear I didn't tell anyone anything! -sent at 1:38 pm
08|25
Jimin? -sent at 09:13 am
Jimin please listen to me
Please?
I don't even have all the audio recordings anymore
I deleted them -sent at 12:45 pm
08|27
Jiminie?
Please trust me... -sent at 1:23 pm
08|30
Morning Jimin...
I know you're not seeing the messages but still -sent at 10:19 am
Please, don't go...
I don't want to lose someone again...
I would never do that to you... -sent at 1:23 pm
08|31
Um...can we meet up at the park at 6 pm -sent at 11:09 am
I really need to speak to you
So... I know you won't come...
But I'm still gonna wait for you... -sent at 5:32 pm
Goodnight Jimin -sent at 12:09 am
Yoongi's eyes flickered upwards where he heard a little commotion. There were more messages and none of them ever reached Jimin. He looked around and saw that a small crowd had already gathered. It was close to starting time. And before he knew, he found himself lost in a crowd that filled the entire park. The show started. Music overlapping with chanting of the crowd. The crowd was so jubilant, singing along the songs. They rubbed shoulders never minding that their toes were often trodden on or that they were in closer proximity to these strangers than they usually were to friends or even family. The atmosphere was one of elation, the warm summer air occasionally punctuated by whoops and hollers.
And in that moment, Yoongi felt worse than he had ever done before. He realized that he was no one compared to Jimin. Another person in the crowd. Another face that no one would bother to look at.
Seeing Jimin made my heart twirl. Hearing his voice made my stomach flutter. Yoongi's heart thumped so hard that he swore it was audible even in the loud crowd. He can't help but feel this way about Jimin. His eyes, those deep amber eyes that could tell a whole story just by looking at them. And the way Jimin would move. He trots along, effortlessly looking handsome. Yoongi stop to look at him and admire his perfection.
But then the harsh reality slapped him. He remembered his position. His stomach churned, heart dropping to the pits of his stomach. Seeing the younger after almost a week, Yoongi felt so relived, but at the same it felt so bitter. And the that mixed feeling was overwhelming him. The panic starts out as thin cellophane, something his fingers can pierce breathing holes in. In another minute the panic is a deluge of ice water surrounding every limb, creeping higher until it passes his mouth and nose. He had to get out the place.
But before left, he opened his phone to send one more message that he knew won't go.
Yoonie hyung
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