The Ringleader | knj

67

It took him a minute to process what was going on... everything seemed to be an illusion.

Like he was high on smoke, his mind failed to comprehend his surroundings that seemed to whizz past him, as he became just another figure in the crowd.
He stood there, lifeless, not knowing what else to do; not knowing what else there was that he could do.

This really was game over.

"Thank you," was all he could murmur, tears prickling his eyes as he forced a polite smile of gratitude. She nodded at him, returning to her work as she began to help another customer.

Slowly, he began to walk away.

Juxtaposing his earlier fast-paced and determined actions, he stood there motionlessly on the travelator, staring blankly at the floor as it constantly moved him downwards.

He eyed a nearby bench, a bench that not many people would take comfort from sitting on in such a chilly and darkened night.
He didn't care though. To him it fitted the atmosphere of his life completely: cold, isolated, out of place.

His phone buzzed within his pocket, and he took it out as he began to slump onto the thin plank of wood.

Taehyung:

Did you get her?
[21:47]

He shut his eyes, dropping his phone to his lap as he cupped his face in his hands, letting all emotion break loose.
His silent sobs were enough to connote his pain, but nobody else seemed to care.

They walked past him, as if he didn't exist.

As if he was just another man drowning in his own sombre state of mind.

He heard heavy footsteps approaching him, and just like the last he knew they'd just wander off past him to carry on with their own matters.
But this one surprised him.

The footsteps halted, a warmth radiating in front of him as a person stopped, probably staring pitifully at him as he sat there, wallowing in his own tears.

"Namjoon?"

The figure knew his name. It knew his name all too well.
The voice taunted him, because he knew it was all just a figment of his imagination. He knew it couldn't be who he'd wanted it to be.

He'd left her for the better.
She'd be a fool if she were to come back to him- the man that would rather shed his own blood for money than to take her into his arms.

But as his eyes met hers, he knew this wasn't just a paradox of his wandering mind.
His lips parted, the tears that flowed down his cheeks left a crystal clear river of clarity down the sides of his face that glowed effortlessly in the street lit corner.
He wanted to say something, but he was frozen in place.
All he could muster was a simple stare.

"You're here?!" She asked, quite profoundly shocked as she sat down beside him. The wood beneath them creaked a little, unused to all this attention. Her eyes softened slightly as she examined his face, holding a soft and warm finger to his cheek as she began to wipe his tears.

His eyes don't leave her face once, because something inside of him still fears that if  he closes them, she'll disappear once more.

"Why are you crying? And why are you crying here of all places!" she examined the area, looking left and right as she notices the now lack of compassion and crowd that the place possesses. He said nothing, continuing to stare at her face.

Ethereal.

Everything about her was ethereal.
From the way her hazel eyes shone brightly as they constantly flickered about, like bright embers, whilst she looked around, to the way her soft and delicate hands were gently rested under her beautifully aligned jaw.