"I'd just like to be yours and I guess I want you to be mine."
"Sweetheart, that's not weird. It's cute."
･ﾟ:* jimin is a sad ballerina, who falls for the lies of taehyung, a mysterious photographer who is nothing but trouble.
( complete )
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JIMIN .
To me, a gift of free pizza is a sure sign of true love.
I mean, just think of that thick, delectable dough, all smothered with the supple tang of tomato; think of how the combination of dairy and vegetable will just melt in your mouth, the cheese oozing from every crevice. Envisage all of those calories metamorphosing into some variation of glorious fat on your body. Now, envision that work of pure artistry being bestowed upon you for free. And, although hard to grasp, picture this meal being gifted to you from the most beautiful being in existence.
It's true love, right?
Well, my roommate thinks I'm crazy and claims the uber hot pizza boy is simply a nice guy and isn't my soulmate.
But Min Yoongi doesn't know anything.
I recall how my eyes had been bruised with sleep-deprivation and grease intertwined itself amongst my mass of dark locks. My skin was bare and the faint remnants of tears were present against my cheeks.
The pizza boy, on the other hand, was a marvel to behold. His skin was glazed with honey; his eyes indented with a hazelnut swirl. Silver wisps of hair framed his celestially sculptured features and the solacing stench of lemongrass clung to his figure.
I recall how he had fixated his gaze upon me and had spoken in the most gravitating of tones, the chocolatey richness of his voice still resonating within my soul, "you look sad."
My reply is a blur in my mind, I was too infatuated with the angelic being before me to form a coherent sentence.
I remember the warmth of his hand as he gently wrapped it around my own, pushing my arm backward - my arm which held the money I owed.
"Don't tell my boss, but this one's on me." It would have been appropriate for him to wink, but I recall how his gaze was locked onto my own.
Stuttering, I had modestly protested, my brain not enabling me to fully comprehend the situation before me.
Regardless, I still wound up with both the pizza box and the money in my apartment - though, unfortunately, no pizza boy to match.
Instead, I just had his words repeating in my mind, like a broken record player: "take it, a beautiful face like your own shouldn't be tarnished by tears."
