You don’t really see much hotels allow their visitors to touch their grand pianos. But when you’re BTS’ Min Suga, the world is your oyster. You don’t have to ask hotels for permission; they will ask you for permission to play.

That’s how he ended up in the lobby, playing the piano at 7 AM.

No one minds him; other visitors lounge lazily by the patio or laugh loudly as they talk about themselves. His friends might be doing the same thing (given Jimin’s circumstances, however, he realizes it’s probably just Jin hyung and Namjoon laughing), but he isn’t in the mood to socialize.

He’d rather be alone right now—pretty much how his life has been for the past years.

His fingers trace the keys as he plays a nameless melody in the air. Whenever he plays, images appear in his head to complement his music: the sunrise, people in the train station, a mother nursing her child in the park...anything.

A change in key gives him a new picture—a blinding smile.

“Ah, Yoongi hyung!”

Abruptly, he stops playing at the sound of his name. The voice is too familiar for his comfort.

He turns around and sees.

Jung Hoseok has not aged a bit. His hair is different and so is his build, but his heart-shaped smile remains. As he stands opposite Yoongi, the latter realizes the former still has that twinkle in his eyes. It’s what he’s known for.

“Yoongi hyung!” exclaims Hoseok again, “It’s been so long!”

A smile forms on Yoongi’s face, but his head is a mess.

Of course, only Hoseok had that effect on him. After five years, he still has that effect on the rapper.

He’s about to return the greeting when his eyes realize that Hoseok is not alone.

As Jung Hoseok approaches Yoongi with that heart-shaped smile on his face, the latter is already lost in thought. Hobi babbles on, asking about the others, commenting about the hot weather, and saying he’s been listening to Suga’s tunes. But Yoongi has only one thought in his head:

Who’s that?

I’m not going out.

8 AM in the morning and Park Jimin is frozen by the door, debating whether he should go out for breakfast or not. His stomach grumbles violently, but his mind is trying to subdue it.

Why? Because breakfast means going out of the room; going out of the room means running into Kim Taehyung. Running into Kim Taehyung means—running into a brick wall of bad memories.

Initially, Jimin thought his beer goggles kicked in when he ran into his ex best friend/boyfriend last night. He had this tendency to hear and see things when he got too drunk.

Crap. I’m wasted, he thought, I’m so drunk my ex-boyfriend is in front of me.

He laughed a little too loudly.

“Ahhh I’m too drunk~” he declared, walking towards this imaginary Taehyung, “I’m seeing things.”

The ‘figment’ of his imagination stared at him. As Jimin approached, he wondered if imaginary memories were allowed to have luggage. This Taehyung had one hand in his pocket and the other on the handle of a bag. He stood in the middle of the dark and for some reason, it looked ridiculous to Jimin.

Clearly, his talk with Namjoon hyung combined with alcohol was manifesting in this imaginary Taehyung who was blocking his path.

He wanted to mock it.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he called out, “You...are...in my way.”

Imaginary Taehyung just stood there quietly as Jimin approached. The latter wondered why this one didn’t say anything; usually, his previous encounters of V-related memories included his husky voice, that loud laugh, or the feel of his lips (You’re not going there Chim Chim).

He finally reached the shadows but Tae was still in the way.

For the love of God.

“Hey, I said...get out of my way,” he told it, “Like...get out. Now. Or I’ll have you deported.”

A small smile spread on Tae’s face.

“You’re drunk, Jimin-ah.”

God, his voice sounds so real.

He even chuckled.

Even the laugh is like 3D. What kind of taunting is this?

Jimin was starting to get annoyed. He approached this cocky figure, annoyed at his beer goggles.

“I said,” he started, “Get.” He poked Imaginary Taehyung.

“Out.” He poked again, but felt Imaginary Tae’s chest.

“Of.” He poked and wondered why it felt real.

“My.” He poked, but he suddenly felt the urge to stop because—

“Wa...y,” his voice faltered when he realized the truth.

Jimin realized that this was no longer the figment of his imagination. Gazing down at him was the one and only Kim Taehyung.

From the eyes to the hair and even choice of clothes, there was no denying it was him.

Immediately, his body froze as he stared at this non-imaginary version of his ex-boyfriend. Taehyung was just staring back at him too.

.

“Jimin-ah,” began Tae, breaking the silence, “Are you okay?”

He touched Jimin’s arm.

That’s when he flinched.

Oh my god. Taehyung is here.

“Jimin-ah?”

And that’s when he ran.

Remembering last night makes Jimin feel like an idiot.

He’s always imagined running into Taehyung but being prepared when he does. He’ll be cool, handsome, and untouchable—not drunk and frazzled. Automatically, he rubs his face in shame. How could he be so...uncool?

His stomach grumbles violently again.

. I’m hungry. But I don’t want to go out.

He fumbles with the buttons of his polo shirt as he argues with himself for the nth time. The dilemma is simple: should he stay and starve to death here or go out and run into his ex?

“You’re drunk, Jimin-ah.”

Taehyung’s voice rings clear as a bell in his head. He shakes it, hoping to get rid of that memory.

“Jimin-ah, are you okay?”

Finally, he takes a deep breath.

“No. You’re going to power through,” he tells himself, “Besides, the dining hall is big. You don’t have to sit with him. You can sit anywhere else or eat faster.” The dancer looks at his reflection and points a shaky finger. “Sit anywhere; eat faster.”

With a determined huff, Jimin runs a hand through his hair before going out of his room.

He doesn’t know where Taehyung is staying; hopefully, he’s nowhere in the seventh floor. Jimin quickens his pace as he runs toward the elevator. No one’s there. He sighs in relief as he stands inside and pushes the close button.

Park Jimin can’t help but feel like he’s in a badly produced action movie. Tom Cruise sunbaenim, however, would be proud with how stealthy he is.

He reaches the ground floor and runs into no one, except a few of the hotel’s staff. They greet him happily; he greets them back as he ducks, keeping an eye at the door.

Finally, Jimin arrives at the dining hall, relieved to see a lot of people, but still no Taehyung. The busy breakfast affair saw other guests lining up for the buffet, parents subduing crying kids, and waiters serving cups of coffee.

Okay. Get food and sit anywhere.

Jimin lines up at the buffet where he is greeted by guests who know his work and his past. He receives their smiles and politely declines photos as he scoops a ton of scrambled egg and dollops it on his plate. He didn’t even bother to get more bacon.

Now, sit anywhere.

Tables are scattered around the hall. He sees one situated near the window. As the former idol makes his way, he decides he’ll eat fast, go up to his room, and start working on a new melody. Maybe, he could do that for a week and not go out. After all, he can pay for room service—

“Park Jimin!”

He cringes.

“PARK JIMIN!”

Jimin turns to the direction of his Jin hyung’s voice. He sees the eldest member waving manically a few feet away. Naturally, he’s seated beside his fiancé, who also waves at him as he takes a sip from his coffee. One person sits across the happy couple.

Jimin tries his best to convince himself that Yoongi hyung has broad shoulders or caramel brown hair.

.

He plasters a sunny smile on his face as he waves back and tries to head in the opposite direction.

“Hey, where are you going?” asks Seokjin, “Come sit beside me!”

Oh my god. Kill me now.

If he could sell his soul for the ground to swallow him, he would. But he can’t, which is why he forces himself to walk towards that table. He fervently wishes Yoongi hyung dyed his hair overnight or took some supplements to explain the sudden muscle gain.

But as he approaches, his heart drops to his stomach.

It seemed like one of those slow-mo moments in movies. In the sea of people, he turns around to watch Jimin with those big and dark eyes. The latter wants to vomit because he still thinks his eyes still looked gorgeous.

Hating himself, Jimin finally arrives and sets his plate opposite the one and only Kim Taehyung.

An awkward silence fills the air as he tries not to look at V directly in the eyes. But he feels the latter staring into his soul—and it’s not ing fair.

“Hey,” greets his ex.

His voice forces Jimin to spare him a glance.

Last night was too dark to give Jimin a better look at Taehyung (that and he was also drunk). With the sun out, he now sees every little detail of change—from that mop of caramel-colored and stuck up hair to broadness of shoulders. He might be in his thirties, but BTS V is still the epitome of handsomeness.

And Jimin resents him for it.

But the eyes, red bandana wrapped around his head, choice of clothes (a white polo that exposed enough of his collar bones), and small smile—everything’s a Kim Taehyung original.

Jimin suddenly feels awkward in his oversized grey sweater.

“Hi,” he greets back as he sits beside Jin.