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Yi-Seo

Ever since the crack of dawn, I have been trying to gain Taehyung’s attention in not-so-subtle ways by purposely keeping my windows open, by occupying the couch more than I have ever done before, and by pretending to talk loudly over the phone every time he walks past his window.

A few times, he did notice me, and today he actually seems to be moving about indoors without making love with his couch and the bottles of alcohol as he did yesterday, and probably on all other days as well.

Maybe he doesn’t really want to die.

But did he take the medicines? How do I talk to him and find out more about him? He wouldn’t probably tell me anything if I just went in and told him - hey, I want to write a biography about you, so spill the whole tea, dude. Nope. Never.

My teeth constantly keep assaulting my lower lip as I lie on the couch and keep thinking of ways to approach Taehyung, and the only idea that floats about in my mind is to directly go up to him and talk to him. I know that it isn’t the best thing to do because he seems a little mad at me for reasons unknown, and I’m also still expecting that little thank you from him for last night.

But I might forego that one if he lets me into the details of his past.

Far-flung? Probably.

However, I sit up on my couch and notice that Taehyung isn’t in his living room. But I also didn’t see him leaving his home, which means that he is still in there, and I make up my mind to give it a try by approaching him directly. Without wasting any more time, I grab a small notebook and a pen and head towards his home.

Standing outside his door, I blow out a rush of air and gather my thoughts together before I press the button to ring the doorbell. There’s no answer, and I proceed to press the doorbell once again and keep repeating it frantically for a few more times while my mind grows more paranoid with each passing second, fearing that something bad might have happened to him once again.

But before I could have a panic attack, the door suddenly creaks open, and Taehyung stands there, shirtless, struggling to keep his eyes open. It is hard to say if he was drunk or sleeping. His head full of hair is a big poofy mess, and he looks as if he was sleeping deep, probably.

Shit! Being woken up from a good nap is actually a nightmare, and I can’t believe that I just did it to him.

I swallow thickly, already feeling the heat at the back of my neck when his eyes peer at me, and a nervous, crooked smile makes its way up my lips.

“Hi,” my voice comes out hoarse and cracked, and I clear my throat before speaking once again. “Hi, I hope you remember me?” I point with my thumb to my home, internally praying that I shouldn’t have to introduce myself to him once again.

“What do you want?” His voice is dispirited and weak.

“I- uhm- I thought I’d see how you were doing,” I’m clueless what I’m blabbering at this moment, and I hate it that my knees feel as if they might buckle any moment.

Taehyung’s dense eyebrows come together, and he exhales sharply almost as if he is in disbelief of my apparent desperation. He runs a hand through his hair, keeping his gaze steady on me as if he is trying to fish out all the words from the back of my throat using his piercing stare.

We stand there awkwardly for a few seconds, and then I shuffle my thoughts and decide to subtly ask him to allow me inside so that I could sit and talk with him.

“I helped you last night, I think I at least deserve to be called inside,” I blink my eyes expectantly, and Taehyung only rolls his eyes in a disappointed manner.

This is getting so embarrassing for me, Lord!

“Okay, never mind,” I continue my monologue. “Now that I’ve made it super weird, I think I’ll just make my exit,” I smile uncomfortably and turn around on my heels when his husky voice stops me.

“Come in.”

My eyes double in size, and I almost squeal in success when I hear his voice again, yet this time the words are exactly what I wanted to hear from him.

I waste no time in following him inside, leaving the front door open, and I sit down on one of the plastic chairs facing the couch after he motions for me to do so. Turning my head to my left, I take a moment to see how the view from his living room is.

There’s no doubt that he saw me half-naked yesterday because the view from here is crystal clear and unobstructed, and anyone with decent eyesight could see everything clearly. I feel a wave of embarrassment washing over me, but I dodge it and avert my eyes back to the man in the room, convincing myself that he wouldn’t remember anything because he was drinking at that time.

Taehyung leans back in his seat, and his intense eyes though slightly bloodshot and heavy-lidded are glued on mine, making my stomach twist itself into knots that tighten with each passing second.

The air between us is thick with awkwardness, and I know that either one of us has to speak up now to break this lull, and it most definitely has to be me because, to begin with, I was the one who wanted this strange meeting to happen.

“Uhm,” I clear my throat, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear. “I’m an aspiring writer, and I’ve been doing freelance writing and publishing on web platforms for a while. But now I intend to take it up more seriously and pursue it as a career,” I send him a lopsided grin when I pause for breath.

Taehyung tilts his head from one side to the other and exhales a long breath, his shoulders relaxing further as he allows his lean frame to sink a little more into the softness of the couch. His eyes haven’t moved away from mine for even the span of a blink, and unlike the nervous wreck that is me, his demeanor is extremely composed as seen from the calm and steady rise and fall of his smooth chest.

“Who are you?” The depth and solidarity of his voice makes my skin tingle.

“I just told you,” my voice sounds so feeble as opposed to his, and it suddenly makes me feel small and weak as well.

How can someone’s voice do this to me?
Shake it off, Yi-Seo.

“So, do your aspirations define you? Don’t you have a name?” The sarcasm reeking in his tone makes my jaw tighten.

“Kwon Yi-Seo.”

“How old are you?” He raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms under his bare chest, still half-sprawled on the couch with his legs wide apart.

“That’s a question I do not want to answer,” I  answer firmly, making a mental resolve to be sarcastic too because if there’s one thing that I don’t tolerate, it is being talked to in a sarcastic and judgmental manner.

“I don’t want to answer any of your questions too,” Taehyung declares casually, lifting his torso off the couch and stretching out his hand to reach for the half-empty pack of cigarettes lying on the coffee table.

“But I haven’t asked any questions yet,” my words make his eyes lift to look at me while he places a cigarette between his teeth, and then his eyes travel down my body and slowly back up to meet mine.

“You better not,” he says in an unadventurous tone and grabs the lighter from the table, cupping his hands around the end of the cigarette and lighting it up thereafter.

“You aren’t supposed to smoke or drink for two days,” my faint words are lost on him.

Taehyung doesn’t even bother to react to that, and he tosses the lighter back on the table and leans back on the couch, crossing one leg over the other, his foot impatiently bobbing up and down.

I convince myself that I don’t care anymore about something that he doesn’t care about, and I proceed to let him know the purpose of my visit.

“Taehyung-ssi, I want to write a biography about you, and I can’t do that unless I ask you questions, and unless you speak u-”

Taehyung abruptly interrupts me by clicking his tongue and hissing in an irritated manner. “Miss Kwon, look,” his solemn voice summons every last ounce of my attention and focus on him. “I allowed you here only because you helped me last night, and I didn’t even need that help. You better not get ahead of yourself. Know your place and get your head out of the clouds,” he speaks without looking at me as he draws in a long puff of the smokey carcinogenic tobacco into his lungs and blows out a cloud of smoke through his mouth, and his head tilts back.

I wave my hand in front of my face to shoo away the smoke, also feeling nauseous and suffocated at the same time.

“I read up about you, and I definitely think… no, I’m pretty sure that something was plotted against you at the last concert. I want you to-”

“Out!” Taehyung’s gravelly voice commands me to leave the place, and his eyes don’t meet mine as the smoke slowly clears away from the space in between us.

His thumb is tipping back and forth, flicking the tip of the smoldering cigarette that he’s holding between his index and middle fingers, and I can see that his facial muscles are all tense right now.

“What?” I blink in disbelief and disappointment; the tone of my voice is glum, and my heart shrinks within my chest.

“I said get out of here,” he hisses through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw; his tone is grave and intimidating, and that is all it takes for me to quietly leave the place while somehow managing to hold in the tears that formed within my eyes.

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Also, don't tell me that no one is noticing the chapter names.
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Published on : 01/05/2023