| Five years ago|

"Should I just let the truck shove me down the cliff?" The plump lips screamed the words and the ebony hair boy laughed out loud, feeling frustrated and delighted yet bold and nervous. Standing on the deck, the sun peeked over the clouds, striking his skin, and Jimin ran his hand through his then insanely fluffy hair.

"Jimin, first, fuck you for ruining my sleep, second fuck off," The caramel warm voice grumbled from the other side as Jimin rolled his eyes twice, pressing his phone firmly against his ear.

"Dalia, should I?" He asked, nipping on his lower lip. An inkling of delirium hummed on his honey-tanned skin.

"Should you what? Shove yourself in front of the truck? Don't you think jumping off the cliff might be a better option?" Dalia's sarcastic tone told him that the princess was awake and might have already flown through her to-do list. Park Dalia got no chill for life. He knew how solid his dear cousin endeavored every day to reach the bar of an idealist. Unfortunately, she wasn't cognizant that she was over the bar of a perfectionist, like a fine print of art. That was the foremost reason he called her.

"Funny, Dalia. Was I supposed to laugh?" He teased, sighing heavily. "You know why I called. Just advise me, should I or not?"

There was a pulse of silence and Jimin didn't rush her. He knew whatever she was contemplating was gonna help him. It always did. "I hate to see you like this. You do what you want. What others thought never implied to you, but look, how underconfident she makes you. Jimin, I always told you that Chohee is good. But so are you. I never understood why you even think she is too good for you when it's the other way around. I don't think she is the best for you, nor you would make a great couple. That's my opinion anyway which you didn't ask for. Now getting on to your question, go for it. Since tonight you are leaving for Italy you should take care of things here. Tell her how you feel. That's it. Helps?" Dalia breathed out as if she was tired from giving the long speech.

Jimin nodded. "Yeah. I will see you later, Dal. Love you."

"Fuck you," then the hot head hung upon him, making him bark a laugh.

The fragile rays glowed all over the concrete pavement and the maudlin weather arrayed in a different mood with his favorite song blasting in his ear. Jimin hopped on the clammy pavement with a huge smile as he bobbed his head to the music and watched the people revel around him.

"Everything is good. Hope my bitch fate would be good," he remarked, halting in front of Lara's florist.

 The scent of roses and lavenders serenely stirred with coffee crammed his mind. Jimin slid off his earphones, stepping inside the meadow of colorful flowers that fluttered his heart, seducing him to paint them on the blank canvas in his bag. 

"Good morning!" the cheerful voice of an old lady, known as Lara, chirped like a morning bird. Full of life and youth though the lady was over fifty.

"Good morning," Jimin greeted back, kind of distracted by the television behind the counter. 

"These are the five finalists of Miss. South Korea 2017! Put your hands together for these wonderful women," the elegant host on television boomed with a rhapsodic sheen, and the camera was drawn on the beautiful girls.

"Oh my my! Look at that angel! I am sure she's going to win!" Lara chimed, tickling pink over the one particular face gleaming on the telly. "She's from our Busan, you know. I know her. She always drops by to collect flowers and makes sure to give me one white rose."

Jimin didn't know why the lady was telling him that, might be because she sounded way too delighted over that live show. He just smiled at the old lady and peeked at the television. His lips parted in bewilderment when he looked at the girl sparkling in all white just like a celestial being just dancing down the globe. The confetti was pouring over her like she was a goddess and she was. Her beauty was otherworldly. Her oh-so innocent of impossible feats by tricks abracadabra eyes, tearing up with an ecstatic smile made him smile too. He wasn't aware of who she was, but he was aware that she was getting that damn crown. 

She's so beautiful, Jimin thought, spell bounded by the beauty pageant who was no longer on television.

"Oh, right! Sorry! I was just too enraptured in the show! You pre-ordered flowers yesterday, right?" The old lady asked him. Jimin nodded with a smile. In a flash, he collected his flower and hesitantly glanced at the television again, anticipating catching a glimpse of her. When he couldn't, he skipped out. 

"Seems like I finally have a celebrity crush to swoon over."

.

.

.

|Present|

Jimin absentmindedly stared at the picture. She was clutching a bouquet of red roses, destroying hearts in an iridescent dress, her hair in loose curls and eyes scintillating with ecstatic tears. That smile on her lips was miraculous, so precious like starlight, but all he could do was marvel where it was lost. Who ransacked that life from her. Who plundered the colors from her world.

In the morning, he found himself straggled in front of the door, to his disappointment, she wasn't around. The first thing Jimin do was to get surveillance and guards installed in front of her house. Next, he glared at the note that she slapped on his forehead when he was in his slumber.

Breakfast in the fridge. Don't call me. Don't text me. I don't wanna see you.

He didn't contact her. Though he knew that she was just a floor above him, painting in her office. He asked Ryan about her whereabouts, but he simply waved his hand and told him that she is pissed over the bright sun. He figured that her assistant didn't know what happened and she wouldn't tell him. Leona was too prideful to hold on to someone for emotional support. He knew her enough to know that she despised showing her vulnerable side, her tears, her scars.

A part of him was splenetic at Ryan because he wasn't there with her the previous night. He was sullen at himself for not being there. His annoyance was vexing up, slowly tormenting his thoughts, his calm nerves. Someone broke into her godamn house and damaged her and he couldn't do anything. He had been looking her up all over the internet but nothing came out from it. The last article just stated that Leona Pierce finally made it into the finals.

Did no one ever try to find out what happened to her? Why did she just disappear? Why did she change herself to survive?

He wanted to find out anyway.

More than that he craved to see her and that thought scared him. What was going on with him? Why was he so worked up and affected over a woman who he had just met a month ago? What was the hollow in his heart that kept thumping excruciatingly when she wasn't around? And that outlandish impulse in his bones to hold her?

"Fuck it," Jimin groaned, banging his laptop shut when he realized since an hour he was staring at her old picture. He couldn't just be serene and speculate if she was okay, he had to see it himself. Once he looks into her eyes, he will know it. He always does. She always lets him.

.

.

.

"I am officially declaring war."

War against that the sun who loved to annoy her every freaking day. The rays were fragile though she hated how warm they felt jesting with her neck. She arose from the cold floor, shielding her eyes, and a whimper tumbled through her lips. Every limp felt like titanium. She couldn't even shuffle without wincing. She blocked the stubborn daylight with the curtains.  The office was dark enough for her to hide. The triggering flashes slowly began creeping, but she shoved them away with a laugh. A psychotic laugh.

"You are disgusting," she declared, warping her head and staring at the shimmering canvas in front of her.

"So disgusting and dirty." She ripped a tube of black paint and gushed the hue on her palm.

Glimmering, she sprinkled the paint all over the canvas, gliding her hands in smooth curves until fury rushed in her veins and the demon inside her began dancing in excitement. She forcefully slashed the paint, eyes bulging, chuckling, panting, smiling when eventually the tears seared down her cheeks. She aggressively wiped her face on the sleeves of her long sleeves dress. A quiet hiss nuzzled on her tongue as she tasted blood using out from her lower lip. 

God, you are such a mess. 

"It's okay. It's okay. You are okay." Just like that, she entombed the previous night in the rotten box and moved on. That's what she had been doing for years.

The canvas was submerged in witchery black and smoldering red as her fingers chiseled a piece. Her breathing was steady though the tempest inside her. Her head was pounding as if someone was nailing a rusty nail, wrecking her nerves. Each stroke of her dainty finger was pugnacious.

The knock on the door exploded a pang of ferocity in her gravel heart. Her gaze lingered on the tarpaulin stretched out on the floor, and she worked even more aggressively when she heard his footsteps.

Ryan a murmur drifted a note near the paint. "He gave it."

Leona's eyes cautiously checked out the white small note. "I thought you are my assistant and not a postman."

"Just part-time. You don't pay me enough, boss," Ryan grinned, trying to lighten up her soul.

"Why don't you quit then?" Leona's eyes skimmed at him once, her chilly gaze clouding as she darted him a ghastly smile.

"Have been asking myself the same since three years," he uttered, departing from the office.

Leona was resolved to not glimpse that note even once. Well, she tried. She tried hard for three minutes.

Then somehow the note was already in her hands, and she was unraveling it. The very clean and neat handwriting brazenly snooped at her.

You said not to call, not to text, so I am sending notes.

Leona rolled her eyes and rumbled, "That arrogant, narcissistic jerk."

Keeping the now stained note away, she proceeded with her work. A minute later, Ryan again popped up, with another note. Leona shot him a warning glare but the handsome man just shrugged. "Don't look at me like that woman. I am the middle man, like Chul."

"Had fun fucking him last night?"

She didn't have to look at her assistant to know he was glimmering with all possible shades of red. Ryan cleared his throat as she opened the note. "I wasn't expecting to end the night that way. By the way, you slept well?"

The visions of Jimin's protective arms wrapped around her, his soothing oceanic voice dragging her back from the darkness, his feathery touch making her feel alive again, his taunting and cotton candy words completely and utterly submerged her. 

"Very well," she responded, reading the note.

Had your breakfast? Doesn't seem so. Go easy on your assistant and poor sun. 

"Now this asshole will tell me how to treat my assistant. Wow," She scoffed, tossing the note aside.

"Well, you need lectures from him though," Ryan buzzed discreetly, but she heard.

"Are you saying that I am not treating you well?"

Ryan shrugged, turning on his heels. "I didn't say a word, boss."

"Unbelievable," she glared at her assistant's retreating.

Then another note was delivered.

Ryan told me you didn't have your breakfast yet. Want to grab something to eat? Just you and me.

Then another.

Are you a wi-fi? Because I am feeling a connection.

One more of his.

Are you a magician? Because you just cast a spell on me.

She snorted. "If I could cast a spell on you, it would be Avada Kedavra."

Another note. 

Your lips look lonely. Would they like to meet mine?

Would she like that? Of course, she would. Jimin was an excellent kisser as if he had acquired special lessons for learning how to torturously swipe his tongue over her bottom lip, how to sink his teeth just to add the spice, or how to lick on her earlobe and smoothly slip his tongue in her mouth, savoring, devouring, ruling like she was his to dominate. 

Her head clouded with all the unholy thoughts and she imagined him tearing down her little dress, sucking her nipple while his finger rubbing-

Leona groaned when she felt the moisture dripping down her expensive panties. She ignored Ryan when he dropped the tenth note. 

Do you like raisins? How do you feel about a date?

She bite the inside of her cheek, forbidding the smile on her bruised lips. A teensy smile danced on her lips and a set of deep dimples popped on her cheeks. The saffron tint flushed her face in a ruddy glow as little butterflies did the tango in her stomach.

Thistles of irritation decorated her silken pearly skin, for feeling all mushy over his amorous words. Tayson was dexterous in flirting. She braced herself for yet another ridiculous note. But the note didn't crawl up to her. With skepticism, Leona glanced at the door once. Then twice.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Leo? He left you alone now, why are you waiting for that grotesque note?"

Finally, she could paint in tranquility. Or at least that's what she thought. Her mind was now flooding with his presence, his warmth, his scent, his dazzling eyes that sizzled every inch of her skin, that ravenous yet starry gleam in his gaze, that stupid chivalrous smirk slithering on his lips and t-

"Damn!" She huffed, abandoning the canvas and flinging her body flat on the floor. She just laid there with a tantrum filling her lungs, her eyes squinting at the silvery ceiling and mouth formed in a dreamy pout. 

Ryan again walked in and she huffed out loud with a whine, screwing her eyes. " Get lost, Ryan. Enough of that notes."

"It's not a note."

She cracked an eye, witnessing the tall man looming over her. Leona's stare flitted at the lavish black folder in his hands. She extended her hand, giving Ryan a tentative look.

Still laying, she popped the folder open and read a sentence or two. She blinked hard. A frown melted her feature and a gasp nuzzled on her tongue. "Has this man lost his fucking mind?"

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Tayson: sʜᴇ's ᴄᴇʀᴛɪғɪᴇᴅ ᴄʀᴀᴢʏ.

ᴍᴇ: ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʜᴇʀ.

Tayson: *throwing the script* ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪs.

ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪʙᴇ ʟᴇᴏɴᴀ ɪɴ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅs?