First of all, I would like to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who is reading this! I honestly could never have imagined to get 300+ reads and I wake up so thankful to have so many wonderful users reading my works :,) Your comments, your suggestions, and everything bring so much happiness and joy to me you don't even know! Please stay safe during these times and I hope you enjoy the chapter and have a wonderful Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanza/etc. Or just have a wonderful normal day if you don't celebrate!

Have some Hobi christmas selcas!

I love yall~ <3

╭*.·:·.✧─────────────────╮

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬?

𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵? 

𝘐𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩?

╰─────────────────✧.·:·.*╯

_____

"

The perfumer allowed himself to have a sliver of emotion seep into his visage. He was the indifferent-holder of Korea's most eligible bachelor, but no relationships had worked out thus far. Possible partners he paired up with for image always failed.

Emotionless.

Uncaring.

He endured every one of those words without even a fragment of concern. If one were to associate a person with the word 'love,' Kim Namjoon would be the last person they'd think of.

And Isabel knew this.

The man's perfume could work wonders for just about anyone, and there were undoubtedly those who went up to him and asked for a bottle that would make them more attractive, or maybe for their crush to like them back.

But he always turned them down, leaving his customers to grumble about his rock-like demeanor.

But Isabel had a way of persuading her targets. Her rosy lips curled into a smirk, 'Mr. Kim, I see you have a wonderful collection of bonsai trees.'

'That is correct.'

Her smile grew bigger, 'And they're arranged all in alphabetical order if I recall? They are suitably dusted? Not even a millimetre out of place?'

Isabel didn't wait for an answer, as she knew it would be a 'yes.'

The perfumer checked his watch, clearly bored with the conversation. Yet the businesswoman continued, 'My, what a stunning collection of perfumes you have; yet not a single one is for love. Are you not in the least disappointed in yourself, Namjoon?'

Isabel seldom ever called him by his first name. Although he tried to hide it, Namjoon flinched.

'I create perfumes for increasing grades, for giving a business more success. Something as trivial as love can never be blessed by me to make it into a perfume.'

But Isabel knew he was lying, even Namjoon himself knew, that he was lying.

He couldn't grasp the concept of love, not even love; he couldn't understand emotions in general. Why would a child throw a tantrum when their toy is broken? They were only objects anyway, he thought. Why would someone cry over broken bones? The pain was only temporary, he thought.

And at that moment, his greatest strength of being a perfectionist and his greatest weakness collided.

The woman grinned and turned on her polished heels, "Have it done by the end of the week."

She walked away, leaving Namjoon stupefied.

Meanwhile, Park Jimin was ordering the best and the finest of roses into his shop.

He ordered them all: Crimson roses adorned with exquisite color, two-toned roses for their unique shades, and many more.

'I must have them all,' he assured his secretary, 'it takes a lot to please Miss Isabel.'

He began to see everything through rose-tinted glasses.

'Of course! Of course! How brilliant of her!' He thought, 'Roses are well known for their soft, silky, velvety texture! Of course, one would love for clothing to be made as comfortable as a rose petal!'

He began crafting the dress immediately, sketching out his ideas on fine-tooth paper. The gown must not have anything else other than rose petals, he insists. And so, he sketched and brainstormed. Only stopping when he was satisfied with the outcome.

'It's perfect,' he breathed. He imagined Isabel wearing it, how the red petals would compliment her skin tone, how the delicate dress would loosely hug her figure. It was safe to say he was swooning.

'With this,' he thought, 'she might even smile at me!'

The tailor barked orders at his tired secretaries to bring the sewing mannequin and crinolines as well as the abundance of roses.

He studied his sketch, scrutinizing it for any flaws. Only did he find none did he finally begin to work.

____

Although Namjoon's mind raged as ferociously as the stormy seas, his body was perfectly calm. Concise, calculated movements were executed by his mind as he organized his perfume samples for the 13th time. It didn't help that the Tailor, Park Jimin, had sent letters challenging him for a battle Namjoon didn't even want to participate in.

'May this letter find you in a ditch,' one read, 'for Lady Isabel's praise shall be mine.'

Namjoon had only rolled his eyes at that, 'What a simpleton,' he muttered. He wasn't in it for approval; he was in it for his ever-lasting need for being perfect. Every detail must be meticulously crafted to perfection, even the minutiae.

Brushing his unwanted adversary aside, it had to be only a matter of moments before his mind was racking itself for formulas on love.

'Love...Love...What makes up "love"?' His collected movements neatly placed the samples in a circular pattern, not even a fourth of a millimeter out of place. For him, love was nothing more than chemicals conjuring emotions in our brains. And so, Namjoon naturally began to recall them.

'Miss Isabel requested for a perfume that could have two people fall in love...attraction towards two humans would require dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin.' The gears of his mind turned.

'That's it!' He cheered in satisfaction, then ran the numbers once, twice, and a third time more to make sure it would run smoothly.

He put on his coat and dialed a number on his Samsung phone.

A quaint smile played at his lips as the person on the other end picked up.

He stated his order, and the smile grew once a response was heard.

'I'll have it ready by tomorrow.'

___

Jimin hummed a dainty tune as he measured out each individual rose petal. He had been doing this for quite a long time now and naturally got accustomed to the cycle.

Hum, measure, write. Hum, measure, write.

In the middle of his performance, Park Jimin's hand slipped, and a rosepetal tore in half.

'no worries,' he thought, 'I have plenty more. Isabel won't mind if one petal is missing.'

But that singular petal was the first among thousands more that would be shredded.

___

The perfumer's hands moved as if they were mechanic. They glided over his workspace with such ease and with minimal error.

His mind was as calm as the movements he made, having a single formula constantly repeat in his mind.

'C8H11NO2 + C10H12N2O + C43H66N12O12S2'

With his empty mind and the constant numbers running, it wasn't a surprise when the drugs' pure essence was obtained and bottled.

He extracted dopamine -- the chemical that causes happiness- in its pure form without other useless ingredients: no hard-to-swallow pill-covering, no soluble powders. He only needed the essential chemical, and that's what he extracted.

His thoughts on humans were the same: the human mind would achieve such great wonders if only we didn't need to eat, sleep, or take a break.

At last, he held up a vile intoxicated with scents of roses and poisons.

The perfume that could make two people fall in love.

'It's perfect,' he stated.

____

The tailor breathed in one more time, hoping to ease any leftover anger or stress. Taking a rose petal, he tried to swiftly fasten it around the crinoline, but alas, it too, ripped.

Jimin drew a shaky breath and balled up his fists in his hair. Around him were the carnage of an unfinished dress -- the broken dreams of an impossible request. Rose petals scattered in every direction except for his heart.

He brought down a fist onto the linoleum floors. What was supposed to be a sublime creation for the girl he loved turned into nothing more than tarnished mirrors and equally slandered reputations.

'That vile woman,' he cursed, 'she knew how fragile and delicate a rose petal would be, yet she still asked for a dress made out of them.'

He had gone bankrupt by then. His secretaries filed for resignation, his other customers were ignored as Jimin reached for a goal woven with lies.

And now, as Park Jimin stood amid his shattered creations and broken bottles, he vowed to never give away love again.

Not even for himself.

______

The knocks coming from Namjoon's door were not in any way polite. In fact, it would be an understatement to assume it was an attempt to ram the door down.

The perfumer opened the door.

Immediately he was pinned down by two aggressive officers.

'Never thought I'd arrest the "untouchable genius",' one of them sneered.

'Let's see how the news reacts when Korea's most eligible bachelor is arrested for the purchase of illegal drugs.'

The bachelor glanced back at his office as the officers dragged him away from everything he'd ever worked on-- his entire life's worth.

'You don't understand!' he yelled, displaying an abnormal amount of emotion, 'I was creating something brilliant, something that could surpass humanity's weaknesses!'

'Tell it to the judge.'

Namjoon's eyes flashed with anger as he struggled within the officer's grip. 'What did I do wrong,' he questioned--no, he demanded, silently.

They threw him into a temporary cell.

He gritted his teeth--which were already seething with anger-- and slammed his body against the barred door.

But his only audience were the cold walls.

__________

asdfghjk i feel like I have 2 braincells I forgot to put in the actual picture of the dress-

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