"Riddle on the wall, tell me all the ways to stay away."

~P

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There's nothing better than a double fudge sundae from Big Top Candy Shop on a hot day. With my back against the wind, I can savor how comfortable my Birkenstocks are on the hot pavement and really appreciate the scenery around me. I'll wish the day could go on forever, and it'll be sealed into my memory in the form of a smell or that bubbly feeling I can't really put my finger on.

But, unfortunately, I'm enjoying none of that right now, as I'm stuck behind the glass cage that is known as my current workplace, observing the customers coming in and out of the store. Some stop for only a few minutes before picking their preferred coffee grains or tea flavor, but some linger for a while, fingers to their lips, considering the array of choices in front of them.

Just fucking pick one, I wanna say, despite what it says on the package, it's all pretty average for being 100% vegan, gluten free, cruelty free, yaddy yadda. It won't kill you to get the same thing as the last time you were here, will it?

I turn to Jimin to share this sentiment when I notice he's still on his phone instead of serving his customers.

Elbowing him gently, I say, "Yo, you know you still have 2 drink orders to make, right?" He mutters something, but doesn't take his eyes off of the phone. I frown.

Something's off about him today; he's looked at that damn thing 42 times in the past half hour, and the times he has stopped looking at it, he smiles at the customers with a dreamy, glazed-eye look that can only mean one thing:

He's smitten with someone.

"Who's the special gal?" I ask, and the simple question makes him jump. He furrows his eyebrows as his gaze flicks back to the screen every now and then.

"Gal?"

I press him. "Oh, so it's a guy, huh?"

Jimin's eyes go wide, and already, he's flushing red and attempting to hide his face in his shirt. He doesn't do it consciously; it's almost like seeing a turtle go into the protection of its shell.

"I have no clue what you're talking about, dude."

"Really? 'Cause you haven't looked up from your phone for 10 minutes straight, and that dumbass smile on your face hasn't gone away, either. If I'm gonna be making all the drinks for the morning shift, I better have an explanation."

After a second of silence where we're both staring each other down, Jimin finally breaks.

"Alright, alright! Goddamn, can't keep anything from you, can I?" he asks, shaking his head. I cross my arms and wait for him to continue, which he does after stammering for a few seconds. "Well, um, yeah. I might have found someone new, or whatever."

I do my best gleeful schoolgirl impression when I squeal, "Chim has a crush! What's his name?"

"I told you not to call me that!" Jimin groans, eyes darting to and from the door, "and his name is Yoongi."

I plaster on a smile for him, but inside, the gears begin working in my head. I swear I've heard that name before, but I just can't tell from where.

"I thought you said you weren't into Korean guys! Isn't that why you rejected my hundreds of love proposals?" I ask with a wink. Jimin waves a dismissive hand at me.

"You're not that much of a catch, Kim Taehyung," he says, then looks me up and down with a critical gaze as his face softens. "Okay. Maybe a bit of a catch. He's just... different, that's all." I smirk.

"I can see that. What's his last name?" I ask, keeping up the best-friend-vetting act.

Jimin narrows his eyes as he retorts, "Why? Wanna stalk him or something?"

"I just want to see the wedding certificate in advance, that's all."

"Oh, shut up..." he mutters, then under his breath, says, "Min."

"Mm. Min Jimin... He can just take your last name, instead." By this point, my coworker isn't listening to a word I'm saying, looking down at his phone again and giggling like a twit.

I try to quell the hopeless jealousy that flares up within me, but it's no use as I peer helplessly at Jimin's radiant figure. If I had even a semblance of that, I would be content for the rest of my life. The restless spirit planted within me would dissipate into the dust on my heel.

I ask in a vain effort to reclaim his attention, "Can I see a picture of him?" Jimin rolls his lips together, then shyly hands him his phone with Yoongi's profile picture on it.

Porcelain skin matched with feline eyes that burn with a vengeance, I now know what Jimin means by different. His blonde hair offsets his intense look, and somehow, it ties the whole thing together. He wears a leather jacket, a matching face mask, and an earring on one side.

For some odd reason, I get the feeling that this isn't the real him. Rather, it's nothing but a caricature he's put on to suit the taste of someone who's attracted to his opposite. Why is he trying so hard? What does he have to hide?

Snippets of memory, maybe from an article somewhere, or a grainy screen resulting from a fading recollection.

I say matter-of-factly, "I'd smash that."

He snatches his phone away and rolls his eyes.

"Whatever. Anyway, did you watch the news this morning?" he asks, desperate to take the spotlight off of him for a change.

"Since when does Park Jimin watch the news? Don't tell me this new boy of yours is..." I gasp, clutching my chest, "an intellectual? Is he the one telling you to be informed on worldly goings-ons? Whatever you do, don't ever listen to the ivory tower guys-"

"I watch the news, okay?" he says, irritated at my blatant display of sarcasm, "without the help of Min Yoongi, thank you very much. Anyway, this guy and his student were found stabbed to death in her house. I mean, the crime scene is literally straight out of Psycho."

"Oh, yeah?" I ask, feigning interest. I turn to take an order, then begin processing it. He leans on the counter against the wall as a customer gets closer, but makes little effort to keep his voice down. Typical.

"Yeah. He was banging her behind his wife's back... What a scumbag. I mean, not like I'm saying he deserved it, but he kinda had it coming. You know what I mean?" he asks.

"Mhm." The noise of the blender fills my ears, yet surprisingly enough, Jimin shouts through it to chatter at me some more. The story must have really struck a chord with him or something.

"They showed some behind the scenes stuff. It was pretty gory, man. Blood was, like, fuckin' everywhere, and her neck was all twisted and bruised, not to mention her stab wounds, too... He really went to town on her, and not in the sexy way." I ignore him as I hand a young woman her drink order, and she smiles at me through hooded lashes.

"Have a good day, ma'am," I say, handing back her debit card.

"You too, cutie," she responds, winks, then sashays out the door. I scoff internally.

Not a chance.

"Hellooo? Are you even listening to me?" Jimin says, waving a hand over my face. He really has no nunchi, does he? "I said that they found markings on his wrist! What a kinkster, amiright? Well, I'm not judging. Also, don't tell me you forgot about Nami already. From the way you were checking that girl out..."

"It's Naomi," I correct him, "and unlike you, I'm doing my actual job instead of gossipping."

Jimin crosses his arms. "Can I keep talking?"

I sigh. "Fine."

"Good. But, yeah, anyway, he rented a hotel room and everything for about a week before going over to the chick's house. But you know what I think?"

"Mm."

"I think," Jimin says with a wide-eyed grin, "he was at the chick's house the whole time, and he got the hotel room just to throw his wife off his trail. Like, blaming his big disappearance on a business trip or something, and no one cared to check until it was too late."

I smirk. "Damn, keep it up and APD's gonna come knocking on your door for a new detective." Despite my sarcastic tone, I really do mean it. If he didn't spend so much time thirsting after Instagram models, he'd leave The Rose Petal to actually do something with his life.

Although, speaking of detectives, my mind wanders back to Min Yoongi. For some reason, it won't let go of his name nor his face, and when that happens, it's usually a sign. My brain has a way of discarding information it finds unimportant, yet retaining the minute details that has a chance of coming in handy later.

Isn't it just such a coincidence? There aren't that many Koreans around here, right? I mean, Austin's as white as it gets in a pretty metropolitan area. And, if I remember correctly, Min Yoongi isn't even a common name. In fact, I've never even heard that first and last name combined before, so the odds of me having pulled it out of my ass is highly unlikely.

To put it plainly: I need to find out who he is.

"Hey, you got it covered out here? I gotta go to the bathroom," I ask, crinkling my face to sell the importance of the situation.

"Yeah, sure. Have fun jerking off," Jimin says, already back on his phone. I give him a nod.

"Will do."

I head toward the bathrooms, and when I see that he's completely enraptured by his screen, I swerve left to head into the storage room. I'm sure he won't be suspicious if I'm gone for 20 minutes or so; maybe he'll think I needed a round 2 or something.

After making sure no one followed me in here, I close the door behind me, take out my phone, and begin researching. Chances of him being from the US are slim; his whole vibe screams he's FOTB. I scour every social media platform for him, but find only a handful of people with his name. No one matches his appearance.

Where the fuck did Jimin find this guy? Hell, what if I really had wanted to smash? How can I do that if I can't even find his profile online?

Better question is, am I really going to download Grindr to get some info? Well, not like I mind. I can swing both ways.

On a whim, I decide to look for his name in Seoul's vicinity, and at first, the results aren't too clear. Google isn't that helpful when all you can look up is a name and one of the biggest cities in the world, but then again, there aren't too many Min Yoongis in Seoul. Before long, I stumble upon a simple job listing that I would've passed by if not for recognizing the cat eyes.

Gotcha.

His hair is his natural black, and his fashion sense is, in delicate terms, fucking awful. Button-downs that are too long for him, glasses that I can just imagine slipping down his nose every time he moves his head. How strange that his style completely changed when he came here.

Through a few additional searches through some location tags, I can definitively say Min Yoongi lives in the Gangnam district. His look remains static, making it even more suspicious how much he changed when he came to Austin.

I pause as dread washes over me. Isn't Seokjin's penthouse in Gangnam?

No. There has to be another answer. Surely, their perfectly-timed arrivals are only coincidental. After another half hour, I know the internet will reach its limits, and still give me no hint into the link between them. I weigh my options, including contacting my brother for what I need. Will my curiosity kill me in the end?

And will satisfaction bring me back?

Just when I brace myself in the horror of losing the cold war between my brother and me, I hear a meek shuffling at the door. I whirl around to find your petite figure folding in on itself from embarrassment.

"Hey, can we talk?"

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*FOTB means fresh off the boat.
It refers to asians who are "fresh
off the boat" from their original
country. Think international
students basically.

안녕 여러분! I hope everyone enjoyed
this chapter. A new character was introduced!
Who do you think Yoongi is? Let me know!

QOTD: do you think luck exists?
Or do we make our own luck?

I believe in both. Everything we do
makes us land in a situation in which we
could consider ourselves "lucky", I think.

Comment your thoughts!

Until next time, happy reading!

Love,
Haneul