1948 NEW YORK CITY

3rd person pov

The old club is bustling with jazz music. A gentleman sits at a table drinking some homemade hooch the club sells. It stings his throat as it goes down but it does the job of getting him buzzed.

The club is filled with fast loose women, But that's never been his type. The women still try to throw themselves at him. He's considerd a very handsome man. Black long hair that hits the nape of his neck. Piercing brown eyes that look mischievous. And when he smiles he flashes a boxy smile. He's what they call tall dark and handsome.

His name is Kim Taehyung but around these parts his name is Vante. The others at the jazz club gave him that nick name cause his face looks like a beautiful panting like a picaso or Rembrandt. He's a South Korean immigrant that came to the US to pursue his music carrier.

2 HOURS LATER

As he tries to make his way outside of the club stumbling. He opens the door to a rainy april night . Heavy rain pours as thunder is heard rumbling in the air. He's walking through Central park to get home. He can see his apartment in the distance. 740 park Avenue

It's quicker for him to cut through the park to get there. All of a sudden lighting strikes and it goes dark.

He wakes up to people walking and jogging past him. He looks around and it's daytime. But somethings off. The people are wearing weird clothing.

He's still in Central Park but it's different it's changed allot. People are walking by talking to themselves. Some talking into a little box. He stumbles up. And bumps into a person jogging "watch it buddy" the jogger yells. He's taken back and doesn't know what is going on. He starts to walk toward his apartment but it's changed allot.

There are trees around it and bushes on the upper floors.
He thinks he must have bumped his head real good. He thinks he just needs to get home to sleep.
He tries to dodge these weird looking vehicles that look boxy and funny. Far from the 1940 Ford you own.

He gets inside the building and it start to look vaguely familiar. He pushes the elevator to the 12th floor. He gets to his apartment door, room 1208 and fumbles for his keys in his slacks. He finds them and puts the key in and turns the lock. He starts to walk in but notices its completely different, Everything is changed.

His furniture is gone and replaced with these weird pieces. The only thing he noticed that is familiar is his victrola he had just bought 2 months prior.

It looks worn now though. There are some scratches and dings.
He goes to open the victrola and sees it still has some of your records and the flyer it came with. But its old and worn.

He starts to scratch his head confused when he hears a female voice. "Who are you?" Before he could turn around it goes black.

Y/N POV

You wake up to some strange tall guy in tan slacks standing in your apartment. He was looking at your victrola. Well it's not yours it came with the apartment. But still it's yours.
You hover over him with the frying pan you just hit him over the head with. You wonder how he got in your apartment.

You fumble through his pockets and find a key. Its your apartment key, But its attached to another key and you wonder how he got it.

You find his wallet and see an ID its old and worn. But it has his name Taehyung Kim you wonder what kind of name is that. Definitely not American. But his ID is issued by the New York dmv. However the date is way off. It expires in 1949. You laugh to yourself. "Yeah buddy, this has long been expired". You grab your cell phone and call the police.

Just then the stranger starts to open his eyes.

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY APARTMENT?"
You yell. He shakes his head while grabbing his head. In a deep voice almost rattling your insides he speaks

"I'm vante and this is my apartment, what are YOU doing, and wears all my stuff?"
"Nice try buddy try again. Your ID says another name. Now speak or get it again." You say as you lift the frying pan again.

"Please don't, I have a massive headache. My name is Kim Taehyung but people call me Vante. I live here or at least I remember living here. Can I at least know who clobbered me with a skillet." He says.

You pause for a minute. "Y/N. The name is Y/N, and I live here. I've lived here for 5 years."

Just then there is a knock on the door. Your head darts away from the stranger. "Great the cops are here" you speak as you head to the door to open it.

Time passes as you are both explaining how you both live there. The landlord shows up and pulls up the lease info for both of you. It shows you have a lease but it also shows he owns the apartment. It is from 1943 and it was back when the apartments were purchased like homes. What's called a permanent lease the landlord explains.

"Well looks like your both residents of this place" the cop explains.

"So what do we do now?" you scoff.

"I don't know lady but we can't kick anyone out!" And with that the cop turns around and leaves with the landlord following.

You both stare at each other. At what seems like forever. You notice he doesn't dress like other guys. Very dapper. Wing tipped shoes tan slacks that are cinched with a belt. His broad shoulders covered with a nice argyle vest with a tan cardigan covering.

His hair is jet black and falls a little in his face. He keeps combing it back with his veiny hands. His ears large but not so big that they are obtrusive, They are almost hidden behind his hair. His mouth is wide almost pouty. His nose is perfectly symmetrical to his face.

He has moles on his face but so small they look cute. He has one by the corner of his brow. One on the end of his nose, one on his left cheek, And another on the right side of his lip.

You remember your grandmother once saying that moles are places your lover has kissed you in your past life. You chuckle to yourself as you have the same mole on your lip.

He breaks your conversation by speaking. "So how are we going to do this, I mean sleeping arrangements and all?"

"You really don't think your staying here?" You scoff.

He chimes back. "This is my home i have know where else to go."

You shrugged in defeat. "Fine you can sleep on the couch. But no funny business!"

"Fine can I take a shower and get out of these clothes please."

You pause for a moment.
You quietly gulp "um y-yes towels are in the bathroom.

He saunters to the bathroom and closes the door.

You internally start to freak out. You've never lived with a guy before. You've never even slept with a guy so this is completely nerve racking.

You snap yourself back to reality and go sit at your drafting desk. Your an architect. And work from home. You have a new project due next week and you need to finish the details before you present it to the clients.

15 minutes pass and the bathroom door opens up
And a cloud of steam emits from the room. Out walks the tall stranger almost in slow motion. Or so it seemed in your mind. He is dusting his ebony hair with a towel to dry it. A white towel wrapped tightly around his waist. His tan abs glistening from the water still on his body. His pecks are slightly larger than the rest of his torso. You can see his v line perking from the towel and a slight bulge begging to spring forth. He looks like a model. You lightly drool looking at this specimen and you feel a light flutter and dampness in your crotch. You have never felt this feeling. Your body feels like its on fire. Your glued to his every move.

He breaks your concentration
"Im going to wash my clothes"
He says as he grabs his clothes in a bundle and starts to head towards the front door.

"Wait you can't leave like tha"
But before you could finish, he's already out of the door.

You hope you don't get calls for a half naked man wondering through the apartment.

After about 20 minutes your door opens back up and you see him still in his towel and carrying his clothes. They are still damp.

"Wheres your clothes line?"
He asks looking around.

"I don't have a clothes line we have a dryer. It's in the basement next to the washer." You reply.

He scoffs "im not going back down there. People where staring at me with these rectangles in their hand."

You chuckle knowing eventually you'll see his picture on Twitter or Instagram.

He walks to the bathroom and hangs his clothes on the shower bar, then walks back into the living room. He goes to the victrola. And tries to start it.

"Don't bother that thing doesn't work. It never has, its more for decoration."
He closes it and sits on the couch. Still in his towel. You panic a bit hoping you don't see anything.

There's an awkward silence and then you hear him speak.
"What year is this?"

You reply "2020 why?"

"2020! NO WAY IMPOSSIBLE. YOUR CRAZY." he jumps up from the couch and starts to pace. Talking to himself.

" how could this be. I should be dead. How is this possible. It makes sense why nothing is the same. But how?"

"Um excuse me but what are you talking about?" You asks.

"The last thing I remember I was walking in central park and it was raining. I remember hearing lighting stike but that's it. I woke up in the same spot but in 2020"
He explained with a confused look on his face.

"What year was it" you ask.

"1948" he replies

"How is that possible. Did you get hit by lightning but instead of dying time traveled to 2020?"

"I don't think thats possible" he says.

"Anything at this point is possible" you say, Not really believing what your hearing. "Maybe after your clothes dry we can go back to central park to retrace your steps"

He nods.