"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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TAEHYUNG .
"Tae, there's chandeliers." His small fingers grasp my arm, clawing nervously at my coat as the palatial reflection of the restaurant glimmers in the moisture of his bright eye. "There's chandeliers and a bloody wall of exotic fish, Taehyung, this place is expensive."
"You're cute." I utter, unable to tear my eyes from him.
Upon exiting the car from a five minute journey, we've spent exactly eleven minutes stood outside the glass structure of the building, while Jimin nervously rambles about how fancy the place seems.
"Jimin, why are you getting so worked up, it's just a restaurant?"
"But it's too much, we didn't have to go somewhere so fancy." He states, but there's something in his tone that seems insincere.
"No, we didn't have to, I wanted to."
I proceed to walk toward the entrance, Jimin hesitantly following, clutching onto my arm tightly.
A man clad in a black suit, with a little bow tie greets us, his face practically sagging through boredom, "welcome, do you have a reservation?"
"Erm, yes, a table for two, under the name Kim Taehyung." I respond briskly, adjusting my jacket and trying my best to embrace the toxic glances of judgmental customers.
"Kim Taehyung?" He repeats slowly, giving me questioning eyes and I pray he'll keep his tongue tied in that firm and grumpy knot, so as not to spew any unneeded comments.
"That's right."
He cocks a brow as his gaze ascends toward the body hiding behind mine, scathing syllables slipping passed his lips, "uh-huh." Passing his glance toward the papers in front of him, he uses his finger to find my name, "right this way."
I turn to Jimin, giving him a comforting beam as we continue through the restaurant to our table in the corner. People's eyes pursue us boys with colourful hair as if we're a pair of circus obscurities, slight whispers dispersing throughout a room filled with empty individuals.
The man hands us menus, muttering words about how he shall be back shortly.
"Everyone's staring at us." Jimin hisses as soon as the man's gone.
"What sad lives they must live." I say rather loudly, making a few eyes travel back to their tables.
"Why are they staring at us?" He gives me these innocent, innocent eyes, as if he's expecting a specific answer.
