Park Soomi

"Yoongi, which outfit is better?" I asked, standing in front of the pile of clothes on my bed with a black dress in one hand and a light peach blouse with dress pants in the other.

"Why're you asking me?"

"Because I need to make a perfect first impression. You know, something that says 'I'm reliable, hardworking, and would make an amazing producer for your company.'"

"Well, I'm not the right person to be asking for fashion advice."

"Ugh, okay, I'll go with the dress—"

"Wait, go with the blouse. The dress is too...frilly."

"Hmm, you're right," I mumbled to myself after examining the dress again. "Okay, outfit, check. Now I got five more hours to get ready—"

"Oh shit, your meeting with that producer is today, isn't it?" Yoongi asked.

"Yeah, why? What's the problem?"

"I have a check-in at the agency today. I'm heading out soon to review your dad's case, so I won't be able to accompany you," he explained. "Hoseok shouldn't have any important plans today, though. He's still in the house. I'll let him know to accompany you on my way out."

I nodded in response as he got up from his seat.

"Good luck today, Soomi." He was about to walk out of my room before stopping in his tracks, staring down at the pile of shoes I was still choosing from. He bent down to pick up a pair of black stilettos. "Wear these. They go well with your outfit."

"What happened to not being able to give fashion advice?" I called out to him. He didn't respond, walking out the room without sparing me another glance. I rolled my eyes playfully as I let out a laugh.

*

I stepped into the black stilettos Yoongi had picked out before taking one last look at myself in the mirror. After hours of preparation, I was finally ready.

I grabbed my things before leaving the room to find Hoseok. But as I continued searching, I found the house to be oddly quiet.

"Hoseok? You here?" I screamed out.

Nothing. That's strange.

I dialed Hoseok's number, bringing the phone to my ear. It continued ringing for awfully long.

"Come on, Hoseok, answer your damn phone or I swear to god—"

"Hey, sweetheart," he finally responded.

"Hoseok! Where the hell are you? You were just here a while ago! I have that meeting with the JYP producer, remember?"

"Meeting? Oh, right, that little thing. It slipped my mind—"

"Little thing? This is really important to me! What the hell are you doing?"

"Sorry, an emergency came up. It was urgent."

Is this seriously happening right now?

"Sorry? You're sorry? How could you not tell me you were leaving?"

"I had to leave as soon as I could. Plus, your room was locked, and I didn't want to bother you. I did leave a note on your door. You must've missed it."

I needed to leave now, with or without Hoseok.

"Ugh! Where are my freaking keys!" I shouted in frustration, rummaging through the random assortment of things in the drawer.

"Oh, about that, I took your car."

"I'm sorry, what?" I shouted into the phone.

"Jimin took his car. Yoongi took one of ours, and the other is in maintenance, which left only yours."

"That doesn't mean you can just take my car! How am I supposed to get there now?"

"Ever heard of a little thing called public transportation, sweetheart?"

"Right, says the guy who stole a car instead of taking a goddamn subway. Besides, did you somehow forget that I'm not supposed to be going out on my own?"

"Look, Soomi," he said, his tone finally growing serious, "I'm sorry that something came up. Call a taxi. You won't have to be out on your own for long, and you'll be there and back without a problem."

I don't have much time to argue any longer.

"Bye, Hoseok."

I hung up the call, about ready to slam the drawer in front of me shut until something caught my eye.

A stun gun.

I wrapped my fingers around it. It must belong to Yoongi. Maybe Jungkook.

After thinking it over for a few brief seconds, I decided to bring it with me. Can never be too careful, right?

I hurried out of the house, while simultaneously requesting a taxi on my phone. My fingers moved so rapidly, I was practically mistyping every other word.

Calm down. The taxi will be here in just a few minutes.

So I settled down and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

I started tapping my foot impatiently, tracking the taxi's location with my phone. Why did it stop? It's been stuck at the next block over for ages.

Eventually, the fidgeting transformed into nervous pacing. I was about ready to start walking towards the taxi's location when I finally saw it continue its way towards me.

It was about time...

As soon as the car pulled up to me, I wasted no time getting into the backseat, muttering a short thank you to the driver before taking off.

I breathed a sigh of relief, my feelings of panic finally subsiding now that I was well on my way to the JYP building. I slumped down in the seat, closing my eyes and attempting to relax a bit before getting there.

"Are you a musician?"

My eyes shot back open as the driver unexpectedly spoke.

"I'm sorry?"

"You're heading to a music company. I was wondering if you were a musician."

I hesitated in answering at first, not expecting the driver to make an attempt at conversation.

"Yes. I'm a music producer and lyricist."

"Interesting. You know, I'm a bit of an artist myself. Poetry," he continued. I nodded silently, unsure of what to say. "Music, poetry, it's all an art of writing. Tell me, what do you write about?"

"I don't know, it varies." At this point, I was starting to get creeped out by the way he spoke, the way his eye dug into me through the rear-view mirror.

And that was when I noticed his attire: a black hoodie and a pair of ripped black jeans.

A man in all black.

Nightmares that had previously been buried by long days of work resurfaced at this very moment. After the day at the beach, I couldn't ignore the eerie similarities between my reality and dreams. But I still chose to disregard it anyway, convincing myself that everything was a coincidence.

Because that was simply the easiest explanation.

I need to get out.

"Well," he continued talking, "I personally find revenge to be a very interesting subject for writing. Do you believe in the principle of taking an eye for an eye?"

I dug my hand into my purse, blindly searching for the stun gun I had taken while keeping my gaze locked on the driver.

"N-no, I don't," I stuttered.

I finally found the weapon, and my hand clutched tightly onto it.

"See, I don't either..." His voice trailed off, and I noticed how he had turned into an unusually empty street, the car gradually slowing in speed. My heartbeat, on the other hand, accelerated in tempo. "Revenge isn't about getting even with someone—"

The car stopped.

"It's about making sure they suffer an even worse fate."

I pounced at him, connecting the stun gun to the side of his neck. His whole body convulsed, and I quickly pulled back, freezing in shock at what I had just done.

What are you doing, idiot? Run!

I snapped out of it, scrambling to push open the door. The impact of my high heels against the pavement left a sharp pain in my ankle. Of all the shoes Yoongi could've picked, he just had to pick one of the most uncomfortable ones.

I frantically kicked them off and made a break for it. As I was running, my first instinct was to call Yoongi. The phone was still ringing as I neared a turn in the road.

Please, please pick up.

"Hello?"

Momentary relief rushed through me as Yoongi's voice reached my ears.

But the moment was short-lived as a hand reached out from around the corner and pressed tightly against my mouth. I groaned in pain as his other hand tugged harshly at my wrist.

The phone dropped to the ground, and I watched in horror as the man quickly crushed the device with one forceful stomp.

——
{a/n}
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