4 // CAUGHT = ATRAPADA

A.M.

in the early morning of the day Farah's been dreading, she opens the doors leading to her balcony. the swept back doors, painted white feel good under her fingertips. the immediate gush of wind that greets her makes her smile as she closes her eyes for a second before collecting herself together. she's going to get through today.

Farah shakes out her curly hair and places her hands on her hips, letting out a deep breath as she stands in front of the mirror.

"you got this."

the sunshine in Spain seems to agree as it rises quickly.

Farah decided to wake up early today, forcing her exhausted body out of bed so she could open the balcony doors. there was just something about the alleviation it brings. waking up hours before the show, gives her the chance to get herself together- physically and mentally. she's going to need a lot of pep talks, deep breaths, balcony views and cigarettes to get through the day.

the writer doesn't realise the posture she's in when she stops moving. she's stood in the corner of her disordered hotel room with her small hands cupped together in front of her, in the form of an unexpected prayer. speak. everything stops around her as silence fills every atom in her body, making her remember a moment from so long ago.

Farah wraps her scarf around the top half of her body. the flannel patterned, thick scarf comforts her frosty body as she throws one side over her shoulder. she adjusts her position on the floor as her hand places itself on the body laying in front of her.

Farah's fingers ache with desperation and longing with every action she makes. everything feels torpid. running her hands through Taehyung's curls, the ebony obscurity disappearing between the gaps, makes her watch her own movements. she's mesmerised by the rawness of the moment. she can sense the writers exposure as he lays on her lap, eyes closed, eyelashes on show as he sleeps gently on her.

his head on her lap. her fingers in his hair. her thoughts and her.

Farah gulps, a deep breath escaping her parted lips as she leans forward and presses a fluttering kiss to Taehyung's forehead. the kiss is responded with closed eyes and a blank expression. he looks beautiful and he doesn't even know his fierceness.

her lips linger on his forehead, face being tickled by his curls which she so badly adores and she doesn't realise the searing tears streaming down her face, onto him. she quickly wipes them away in surprise, moving away.

even as Farah moves away, the tears continue as she continues to brush her hands through her boyfriends hair. him sleeping brings her ease as he lays on her lap, legs spread out in front of him as she sits on the floor. he's finally getting the rest he needs.

Farah takes her hands out of Taehyung's hair, making sure it's not bothering him as she pushes it away. a single hand rests on his broad chest covered in a baggy shirt (his favourite) and she clasps the necklace around his neck. F. she smiles, pressing her palm against the beat of his heart before her hands join to make a prayer.

"dear God..."

"Taehyung." Farah squeezes her eyes shut as if she's in pain but all she feels is a sense of consolation. agonizing, slow solace that's felt with every tick of the clock. "i'm not asking for anything big. i just want to talk about... Tae."

"Taehyung is a lonely soul who deserves the world. i want to give it to him so badly. he's just a soul that wants to wonder and he deserves so much better than what he gets." Farah sighs, tears rolling down her cheeks as she feels the emotions her prayer elicits. "i want his happiness more than anything. he makes me really happy."

"his dreams deserve to be pursued because he's a good person. good people deserve happiness."

Farah strokes Taehyung's cheeks, smiling at the sight of him. "i want him to remember me. i want him to smile. i want him to be happy."

Farah snaps back to reality, putting her hands down slowly. the trances she's been having set her two steps back. she realises soon after that she's already dressed. she loves dressing up for herself, for work, for occasions. but a fancy occasion like this? she's never been to one and if she ever got invited, she'd make up an excuse.

Farah is relieved she got dressed without thinking too much. it is what it is. a dress is what she wanted to wear to such an critical event so she is. it's one that's been lying in her closet. although she was tempted to wear her favourite pair of pants.

as she fixes her hair which is the most important detail for her, she sends panic texts to her brother. unfortunately, she doesn't receive any replies due to the time zone differences.

FARAH
i hate that i'm here

FARAH
what if he doesn't come? that would be the best thing

FARAH
i'm so nervous i might shit my pants

FARAH
my poor dress would have to suffer

FARAH
HOW DO I LOOK

even when she's on her way to the venue, sneakers hidden under her dress, her hands are glued to her phone as she tries to calm her nerves.

FARAH
OH BROTHER I FEEL SO SICK

FARAH
I DO NOT FEEL GOD

FARAH
WHY AM I GOING

why am i going? Farah who's still questioning, steps into the occupied building where the venue will be taking place. why am i going? why am i going? why am i going? her unconscious seems to mock her as she talks to herself, maybe a part of you wants to see him? to see if he'll speak?

she'd rather die than speak.

Farah sends one last panic text. she's not feeling signs of nervousness yet. no shaky hands, sweating, fidgeting, rapid heart rate and chest tightening. a part of her thinks she's been so nervous recently that it's all vanished, she's run out and she has nothing to worry about. another part of her knows it isn't that simple. the nerves may have drifted due to her pep talk on a Spanish balcony, but it'll arise at one point.

"welcome ma'am." a man in a suit greets Farah at the entrance. a man who's getting paid to shake hands and welcome people politely. she finds it humorous how he doesn't know any of the incoming guests, how he shakes hands eagerly and smiles but he has no idea why the fuck the guests are important. these people are the key to our future generation, they clarify words and their meanings, they bring the definition of art and writing to life. knowing these people would change your life sir.

Farah smiles widely as he smiles back at her, shaking her hand at the same time. she can see right through the man. he can't see a thing through her mocking smile, singular eyes. "we're happy to have you here. we hope you enjoy your evening."

yeah, yeah. "thank you."

the writer is invited inside, left to her own instincts as to where she's supposed to go and what to do. she's never attended one of these before, is this what Beyoncé does at the Grammys? Farah fishes out her phone, continuing to panic text Jin as she keeps calm...

FARAH
spanish people are cool

FARAH
everyone's smoking here

FARAH
IT IS MY PEOPLE

FARAH
why can't anyone help me

FARAH
I CANT SEE

FARAH
is your ass sleeping

FARAH
what would you do at the grammys?

FARAH
why am i comparing this to the grammys i'm losing it

Farah watches around, aware of how awkward she looks but she simply raises her chin higher. fake confidence until you make it is something that's stuck with her and she intends to use it tonight. especially when she meets Taehyung if he actually comes.

the absent female follows other people to the red carpet, pretending she knows where she's going. the red carpet is busier and flashy. the many cameras make Farah feel sick again. she doesn't know anyone here, although everyone's from a similar profession, she feels like an outsider as she watches people pose for the cameras thoughtlessly.

the nominee fiddles with a cigarette in her hands. so man made, so dangerous. just like Taehyung. she doesn't know whether it's a good idea to smoke right now but at least she'll blend in and lessen her nerves. before she knows it, her actions are speedy and she's lighting up her cigarette with effortless relief. anyone who even glanced at her as she did so probably thought she was crazy due to the relieved gasp that left her lips.

to be honest, Farah just wants to sit down and blend in with the crowds, when the lights dim. she wants to lean back and enjoy the ceremony, sip water, duck her head when her name is called and forget the partial five seconds when she actually has to exist.

then her heart pains like it's never done before.

her eyes figure out a presence on the red carpet. she knows every line, arch, shape, feature and mark of that body. it's manliness, grandeur, strength yet liability, rawness and softness. it's dark in the shadow, awake in the light and with every camera flash, Farah flinches because it's Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung is on the red carpet and for a moment, all Farah can see is red. red love. red hatred. red passion. red words. red books. red flashes. love is red, for is not just hate.

Farah feels everything then. the signs of nervousness arrive so fast she almost drops her precious cigarette. the same palms that have swept down Taehyung's chest start to sweat, hands shaking, heart beating promptly, headache arising and her overheating.

there's no doubt that Taehyung looks magnificent. every camera is on him and she's not surprised. dark tawny suit on his tall figure, baggy but also well fitted as he moves around readily. his hand rests on his hip, pushing back his thick blazer to reveal the tight skin, black turtleneck adorning his vast chest. her eyes rake up, coming across the same curls she's been thinking about- falling onto his forehead, nearly shielding the copper, golden specks of his eyes. even at a distance, he's not even looking at her but the same intensity of his ebony, dismal eyes remain the same.

a neat belt around his skinny waist, rings on each hand and hooped earrings with hair curling around his ears. his accessories make her hands shiver even more, even now. Farah has to force herself to look away when she notices how sharp his jawline is, how soft his lips look and his every facial feature gleams perfection. she can't help but wonder, along with the other men and women that are present, how is he real?

and most importantly, how was he ever hers?

Farah holds her cigarette with two hands, letting it burn because she can't look away. she wants to look away before he can spot her.

Farah snaps back to where she is and how he hasn't seen her yet. would he even make the effort to come talk to her? acknowledge her? all this time she's been thinking about how she'd avoid him but what if he does that? what if he's the one who doesn't care?

the troubled female tries to run away as the numerous cameras flash, the sound pricking in her ears. the same man from the entrance stops her, hands placed on her shoulders. "ma'am, are you a nominee?" he questions, eyeing her fiery cigarette.

"yes." Farah mumbles, moving her body so she faces her back towards Taehyung and the red carpet. she doesn't want to draw attention to herself. she doesn't want him to see her and her anxiety is making things worse. he can't see me. he cannot see me.

"you must go on the carpet."

Farah clenches her jaw. there's no way she's going on the red carpet. she's regretting coming here, knowing her instincts were always warning her. "i need to go to the toilet."

she leaves, walking away and she's never felt happier.

Farah's breathing is heavy as she walks further and further away from the man she once loved. she almost turns her walking into running. she's so unbelievably happy when she makes it to the bathroom with no one pestering her, with no one knowing her.

when she looks in the mirror, she knows she has to stay.

she's come all this way, it would be disrespectful to herself if she ran away now. she knew he'd be here. she thought she had prepared enough but her anxiety ridiculed her.

Farah's hands run down her face as she looks at herself in the mirror. she observes her natural, tense expression and laughs. "he's here and you're here. you're both in the same place."

she talks to herself, glancing behind to make sure no one is present. "suck it up." she looks at her eyes. her own reflection distracts her. "remember what mom said! just do whatever's right for your growth." she repeats growth again and again, listening to herself carefully as she walks out of the door.

Farah jumps.

the world hates her.

Taehyung is here. he's actually here. he's leaning against the wall outside of the bathroom, hands in trouser pockets, curls on show with his lengthy legs crossed. he seems so relaxed, elegant. he's been waiting for her to leave the bathroom. he doesn't look at her as she stands there, tremors running through her as she gasps. he's so quiet but his presence is so loud as they stand, in a corridor of silence and just feelings.

he saw her, now he's here.

"i saw you." his voice sounds, standing up straight and gulping.

//

thoughts on taehyung?