❝such a;

THE smoking figure stood by the same sketch as yesterday, sipping on the cylindrical stick. His black jeans clung to the muscle around his thighs, fabric twisting and touching his skin by each movement as he occasionally shifted weight.

Jungkook stood nearby, occasionally stealing glances at the dark haired stranger near him.

His pen fixed between his fingers studiously, the male penned down various words in relation to the unnamed stranger;

-- smoker 

-- likes his coffee black

-- artist (?)

Jungkook had penned down the word when he walked through the doors of the art museum's second floor, noticing a lick of blue paint along the stranger's forearm. 

He felt like a kid, nervous energy rambling throughout him each time he'd steal a quick glance at the male, each stare never long enough.

With a sigh, he resisted the urge to steal another glance and stared at the painting in front of him. Kim Namjoon had sent him here with his first assignment and Jungkook had been ecstatic at finally receiving his very first task at his job.

But my, it was quite tasteless.

His phone rang, vibrating against his thigh. Jungkook fished for his device, staring at the caller ID.

yoongi

He swiped his finger along the 'accept' icon, raising the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

It was quiet, so he said it again, louder.

Still, there was no response, so he lowered and locked his phone in confusion.

"Yes?"

A familiar voice echoed from behind him and the energy returned as Jungkook turned around to face the male.

The brunette gulped, clutching his pen in his sweaty palm, "I wasn't saying it to you, I-I was," he held his phone up slightly, "answering the phone."

The pale stranger raised an eyebrow, eyeing the phone in Jungkook's hand. "I see," he murmured, sucking on a cigarette again as he stared at the phone. He stepped forward, black vans softly thudding on the flooring.

With that signature motion -- one sip of his cigarette, two sips of his coffee -- he stepped in front of Jungkook, staring at the content of his journal.

His lip stretched upward from the corner of his pink mouth as he handed his paper cup to Jungkook.

The nervous male confusingly took it, even more perplexed when the stranger fetched the pen from his fingers and plucked a cigarette from his Marlboro pack.

He scribbled something on it, handing the cigarette to the doe-eyed male. 

"Write this down too," he said as he chewed on the cylindrical stick, exhaling a puff of smoke as his trail.

He took the paper cup from Jungkook, pausing mid-air to speak. His lips parted, as if to say something, but the separation of his mouth's skin quickly melted against each other.

And he walked away, once again leaving the brunette in a fit of knots and tangles, hopelessly and shamelessly wishing to be unraveled by his fingers.

Jungkook stared at the cigarette, registering the two words;

park jimin.

He speed-walked to the museum's window, leaning his nose up against the cold, frosting glass. Jungkook quickly wiped the fog with the sleeves of his sweater, wrist registering cool.

And there that eloquent stranger, Jimin, was in the parking lot, slipping on the helmet of his black motorcycle and revving up the engine.

With a start of the Moto Guzzi, he biked away, leaving Jungkook wondering why he went as quick as he came.

///

pretty vision.❞