It was a few days or so of being cooped up inside of his apartment and the strange boy never came even once for his handkerchief. As days passed, Yoongi started to think that maybe all that had happened back then was nothing but a mere dream. The accident hadn’t even taken place and there was no strange boy to begin with. He would gladly believe so if it wasn’t for the scar on his forehead, being as clear as it could be every time he walked passed the mirror.

The blood had stopped days ago and the wound was looking as hideous as it could right now, leaving a very visible scab on his forehead. He felt like clawing at them, feeling as much as annoyed every time he ran his finger on his forehead and realized it to be there. Namjoon stayed true to his words because Seokjin didn’t know, asking him simply about how he was doing through the phone, saying that he’d been busy with college and couldn’t come to stop by, without any knowledge that he had been in such an accident before (because if he did know, Seokjin would come running to his apartment with an ambulance behind him).

Another thing that convinced him that Namjoon did stay true to his words was how the boy called him in one afternoon, telling him to ‘gear up’ and ‘be ready’ for something that Yoongi clearly wasn’t in the mood for.

“Come on, it was Hoseok’s performing for the first time in NB. Why don’t you just drag your sorry to Hongdae just this one evening for your best friend, hyung.”

He was about to say something mean along the line of ‘Hoseok’s not my best friend’ when Namjoon threatened him instead.

“I’m going to tell Seokjin-hyung that you got into an accident and let him rant for 24/7 in front of your door if you didn’t come.”

Yoongi growled. That was obviously cheating. Namjoon didn’t have the right to blackmail him like that.

“You’ve promised before, hyung.”

And Yoongi wasn’t one to break promises. He was maybe a jerk and mean most of the time, but he wasn’t really that much of a bastard either. He cursed under his breath, looking back at the ceiling as he turned the phone down, managing to reply Namjoon with nothing but a small grunt and incoherent mumbles. 

Yoongi raised his fingers, counting the days that had passed by since Namjoon set foot in his apartment. Five or so. It felt like a goddamned yesterday to Yoongi, hours even. Sighing, he went towards the bathroom and decided to clean himself up if showing up would be the agenda tonight. The thing about staying inside of his apartment with nothing to do and no one to see was how personal hygiene became something that no longer held any value whatsoever to him. He took a bath when he wanted to and frankly said he couldn’t even remember when the last time he really did. He took a quick shower and washed his hair. Mirror was practically the very thing that he had tried to avoid these last few days but in the end he was forced to do so.

Facing the mirror in front of his sink, he couldn’t help but to scowl at his own reflection. He had to scratch his own hand, stopping his own finger from venturing towards the troublesome scab that spoke boldly on his forehead. His hair was jet black and if he wasn’t in much of a depression he would probably go to dye it another shade of brown. Blonde, even, like Namjoon was right now.

Wait, no. He wasn’t depressed. Who said about depression?

Min Yoongi was fine.

He was perfectly okay.

He got dressed, putting on a beanie and hid the scab underneath his bangs. His eyes glanced towards the neatly folded handkerchief that he left by the nightstand. The boy hadn’t yet made his appearance and at this point Yoongi thought that he could call the piece fabric as his own property. He had tried his best to wash the blood but some things were not meant to be wiped out indeed. He sighed before grabbing the key from the bowl and stepped out of his apartment. As always, the elevator ride was agonizing and he went to his car right away as he got to the basement.

He drove in silence and it was probably somewhere after he left the Gangnam district did the headache started to bother him yet again. It always started behind the eyes before developing into something else and sent his world into turmoil. He needed to make a quick errand to the nearest pharmacy and bought a load of aspirin and painkillers after this, he thought. When he finally reached Hongdae, the headache had gone too much, almost unbearable. It amazed him that he managed to reach the place in the end, all the while still managing to stand on his own two legs without tumbling down.

Going home was not an option since Min Yoongi wasn’t someone who did something so half-heartedly. He was there, all right, and he better made this agonizing trip worth it. Brushing off people’s shoulders and walking inside the club, he thought that he was going to faint. Literally. The club was crowded during the weekend and the music they played was not to his taste at all. Headaches and blaring music were the perfect lethal combination for Yoongi tonight. Not to mention the tightly packed bodies and contacts that he very much loathed.

“If it wasn’t the grumpy Yoongi. You really did come,” said a voice, louder than the rest, as he walked his way towards one of the booth. At this point they had to raise their own voice louder whenever one needed to speak or the messages meant to be sent would drown behind the blaring music.

A figure stepped out and pulled him into a tight hug. He didn't need to see the face to tell that it was Hoseok. No one was that much of a hugger than Hoseok.

“You’ve gotten so skinny, hyung. Where have you been lately?” asked Hoseok.

To the back of his mind, it only seemed like it was yesterday since he last saw the loud boy.

“Nowhere,” he said, grumbling.

“I haven’t seen you in like-, a month or so.”

Really? He didn’t think that he had spent a month being cooped up in his own apartment. To his mind it was probably around yesterday when they last went to NB, drinking themselves until dawn and being overcome with this huge wave of nausea soon after. Yoongi woke up with such a terrible hangover that day. Funny, it felt like it happened only yesterday or so. Had it really been a month?

“I’m here because of Namjoon, not you,” he said coldly, eyeing for the boy who’d been sitting calmly on the booth, holding a shot of whisky in his left hand. Too early of a night to drink, Yoongi noted to himself. Seokjin was sitting at the other end of the booth, smiling warmly at him.

"It is the real Min Yoongi, folks,” Hoseok laughed when he thought that the always-seemed-to-be-smiling boy would be offended instead to his words.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I make a joke about you not going to show up. Or even if you did, it wouldn’t be the real you,” he said, sporting the grin that he hated so much.

Yoongi groaned and pried himself off of Hoseok’s touch before throwing himself towards the booth right next to Namjoon. Hoseok let out a yell that went something like ‘See? No one can do such a scowl but Yoongi.’

“When’s the performance?” he asked.

“You want this to start as soon as possible so you could bail and return to the jail you called an apartment, huh?” Namjoon chimed in as if the boy was capable of reading his mind. Yoongi snorted. He did think so, since he didn’t plan on staying any longer than his headache could afford.

“Stay for a drink or two, hyung,” Hoseok said, nagging at him with his ridiculous voice. “It’s been so long since we last saw you.”

Not to him, it wasn’t.

Yoongi sighed, looking back at the ludicrous and perfectly annoying Hoseok. He had even forgotten how he managed to befriend that little piece of oddball. He wasn’t a friend that he made through mutual taste of music or art like Namjoon. He wasn’t actually a friend he befriended in college because they were in the same class like Seokjin. He was a friend of Namjoon's that somehow got stuck to him through accidental encounter and lots of vouching from Namjoon's side. He didn't even know why Hoseok wanted to be his friend. , why would anyone want to be his friend? 

"Yeah, we're all kind of worried about you," Seokjin said softly, looking at him with enchanting eyes.

"Then you shouldn't be because I'm fine," he said.

Seokjin was going to retort him, speaking another words of reassurance or giving another question that did nothing but annoyed him even more (because the answer will always be the same) before he snapped again.

"And besides, I'm here now, right?" he added, forcing a smile on his face, trying to stop Seokjin from prying any further. The smile would be ugly, he somehow thought about that.

The older boy let out another warm smile and he had this weird feeling in his stomach, telling him that the words he just uttered were lies. He felt as if he was lying and the smile that Seokjin returned and how the older boy thought that he was noting but sincere only made him felt worse. No, why should he be guilty? He wasn't lying. He never did.

"Yeah you are."

Because Min Yoongi was fine.

He was perfectly okay.

"So, while we're at it, go and have some fun, hyung," Namjoon said, pushing a shot of whisky to him.

He looked at the liquid then back at Namjoon, contemplating. His headache was still there and drinking would only make him even more tipsy. This was a bad decision. As bad as stepping out of his apartment felt like.

"I'm not here to drink. I'm here because you told me Hoseok and his crew got to dance at NB."

"Awh, you do come for me," beamed Hoseok.

" you."

"Language," Seokjin reminded. He was always be the most innocent one, despite of his age. Profanity, alcohol and nightclubs were three of a kind that you couldn’t separate from oneself. He should have known that such thing would be hard to avoid when they were already hanging out inside a night club. 

"Nah, i know that the term ' you' in Yoongi-hyung's dictionary is equivalent to 'i love you'."

Yoongi just looked at the boy square in the eyes and gave him the meanest glare that he could. His eyes were something that people described as intense and it was one of the very reason why Min Yoongi didn't encounter much people to be called a friend at the end of the day. Still, Hoseok being Hoseok, was someone you couldn't brush off so easily, being the little ball of giggles and laughter that he was. Yoongi’s death glare probably spoke ‘you’re beautiful’ to him.

"No, seriously. you."

.

When Hoseok had gotten to the stage he had drunk three shots of whisky. By the time the performance had ended he had drunk four and the view started to get blurry. By that time his headache was no longer of any significance. The loud bass and people's cheering had resided into the background. Hoseok was ecstatic, his face flushed and he kept on waving towards his booth where Seokjin, Namjoon and him sat.

Namjoon excused himself soon after, saying something about catching an eye of a gorgeous red-conversed girl in the middle of the dancefloor before hurrying himself there and making an apparent fool out of himself because Yoongi (in the state of head-aching and views-blurring) could swear that what Namjoon thought of a girl was actually a man.

He eyed the shot of whisky in front of him, thinking that it would be his fifth tonight. He had actually said something along the line of 'only one' when Namjoon and Hoseok forced him to drink. Turned out that Min Yoongi was indeed a liar because he had burried himself in the fifth now. He had been initially afraid for the sake of his headache, thinking that they would get any worse. But then again after much contemplation, he realized that if it was horrible to start with, it certainly wouldn’t develop into the worst. Besides, they wouldn’t be any better, so he better just went ahead and dived headfirst to the pain that awaited him

Seokjin was conversing with Hyosang at the other end of the booth, entirely sober. Unlike his dongsaengs, he certainly knew his limit and out alcohol from the list of beverages that he would like to chunk down on weekends. That and how he always said they would need someone sober enough to stop them from doing something stupid. The only time he'd seen the eldest hyung took a sip of alcohol was during that time he had last seen Hoseok. It literally only took him a sip to send him into a deep slumber like a baby.

He cast his eyes to the tightly packed bodies on the dance floor. Hoseok was nowhere to be found, probably lounging with his group of dancers to celebrate. The kid was indeed a good dancer as much as an idiot that he was, Yoongi had to give him that. From the distance he could make out Namjoon's blonde hair, the young man dancing and jumping too much like an idiot, he had to divert his gaze to hold himself from embarrassment. He refused to acknowledge that stupid idiot as his friend.

He was in the middle of observing, scanning his eyes all around the club that felt all too small now when the lightwork hurt his eyes and he turned his view on the ground instead. The headache came again, knocking on his head as if asking his permission to infest his mind once again. His palms were sweaty and the bass thumping on the background grew louder and louder. Or was it his heart that was beating hard? Was this the result of taking five shots of whisky? He wasn't like this before. Chunking down alcohol like water was his specialty after all.

The beating went harder and faster it got the point where he felt someone banging a drum right next to his earlobe. He clutched on his chest, feeling almost of everything at the same moment. The loud noises, the headache, the pain. A rushed of cold swept through him, sending chills along his spine. It would only take the nausea to come and join in the horrible sensation to make everything a perfect torture for him. The ceiling of the room was indeed shallow with the black wallpaper lining them, he had only figured that now. All together he somehow felt like a bird in a cage, being trapped inside.

Getting up, Yoongi stumbled on his way towards the door. He needed some fresh air at least. The realization dawned on him and panic started to kick in. The wall of the club felt closer and tighter all around him. The need of fresh air had turned into the need for some mean of escape. He had to get out, and doing so meant that he had to pass the bodies jumping on and off the dancefloor. Yoongi gritted his teeth, realizing that he simply needed to bear it all and forced his way to the door right at the other end of the dancefloor.

He didn't even do the courtesy of saying excuse me, surging his way through the drunkards. He kept on clenching his fist hard, trying his best not to faint midway. He bumped into shoulders and stepped on feet, ignoring the cry of pain and protests thrown at him. A girl particularly told him to off after he bumped on her almost too hardly. He brushed it off and kept on stumbling on his way, the door somehow felt further and further from his grasp instead.

At one point he had to let out his arm, trying to make way and parting the bodies aside.

" off."

"Hey, idiot."

"What's you're ing problem you-,"

"Murderer."

Yoongi froze on his feet, eyes wide and heart thumping in his chest. Everything went quiet for a moment, as if someone just paused the time before resuming it back again almost too instantly. 

What did he just hear?

No, he heard it wrong. It was impossible for him to hear such thing. Even if he did it he probably heard it wrong, or it was simply wasn't addressed towards him.

Gulping, Yoongi kept on walking, trying to reach the door. He was that close from the absolution that granted him relief, managing to fight his way through the dancefloor when a girl, blonde and seemingly very drunk, bumped into him instead. She latched her hands around his neck, laughing words on his neck. Her breath sent shudders through his spine. This was definitely the last thing that he needed. On other days he would gladly crash his lips upon the girl's, but with head splitting and sweat running, he couldn't even care much about a certain girl grinding on him. He pried the girl's hands off of him, but she hugged him even tighter, her lips ghosting along his neck and went right towards his ear.

"Murderer."

His blood went cold. She tugged on his ear once again before she took her arm off and disappeared from sight, right when Yoongi was about to ask her what did it mean. He wouldn’t be wrong with that one, would he? It sent his body shivering, his eyes wide and the thump in his heart went louder and louder. The room started to spin or it was Yoongi who did, because he turned around to look for the blonde girl instead. He entered the dancefloor yet again, retracing his own steps.

His eyes caught the blonde hair of the girl. Somehow the door meant nothing to him now, only a mere grasp away and it stood behind his back now, forgotten.

"Hey, you. Wait a sec' I-,"

He reached out his arm and managed to grab on the girl's shoulder before someone bumped him again from behind, getting too close to his ear. He stumbled forward and the girl disappeared once again from sight. He was about to reach for her again, surging through bodies when he heard the same words whispered behind his back, sounding crystal clear and every bit of a reality that he could hope for it to be.

"Murderer."

He turned around, eyes wide to find no one standing behind him. Who said that? What did it mean? Was it addressed to him? That wouldn’t be possible, would it?

"Murderer."

And it didn't take a body bumping on him or a shoulder grazing for him to hear it, being spoken in hushed whispers, right next to his ear.

"Murderer."

No one was looking at him yet he could still the words being whispered to him, echoing all around. As if being queued, his headache came knocking hard. He struggled to stand still, his head felt like it was going to split. He covered his hands towards his ear, trying to block the noises, bodies bending down and eyes closing shut. It didn't make any sense to him yet it made his headache worsened even more.

"Murderer."

"No."

"Murderer."

"Stop it."

"Crasher-hyungnim."

"Shut up!!"

And the whispers finally did. He cracked his eyes open slowly and the first thing that he saw in front of him was his own two feet, standing on the cold pavement. He blinked, trying to determine whether what he was seeing was genuine or not. It pretty much was.

"Crasher-hyungnim?"

He lifted his head slowly, prying his hand off of his ears. The thumping had subsided. So did the headache. He felt entirely and almost too suddenly better. The walls were no longer confining him and there were no longer bodies bumping onto his. The air wasn't as suffocating anymore and he could even feel the cold breeze of autumn caressing his cheeks. He realized that he was outside, standing on the road.

"I know that you yell at me to shut up, but are you all right, Min Yoongi-ssi?"

And in front of him stood the strange boy, the one that he crashed days ago. He remembered the chubby cheeks and annoying grin. It reminded him of Hoseok's, though both had their own respective way of disturbing him. He was inside of the club moments ago, standing in between tightly-packed bodies with the ceiling crashing on him and headache splitting his head into two. How did he manage to find his way out, because he clearly didn't remember stepping outside of the door. All that he remembered was the voices and the whispers, telling him that he was-,

"-fine. I'm perfectly okay."

The boy coaxed his head sideways, seemingly not being convinced by his own words. Yoongi took off his beanie, running his fingers through his hair. He'd been sweating a lot. What was that, really? A bad effect of whisky? Probably something that he ate or drink before, reacting wrongly with the alcohol? Or maybe it was Namjoon slipping some pretty bad acid to his drink without him knowing.

He sighed, trying to gather up his thoughts. He didn't remember stepping out, but he did remember wanting to because the atmosphere was being too unbearable. Looking around, he had found himself right in front of the club, the door to it was located only a few meters to his left. He didn't really get high and ventured to places he didn't know, so at least this was a good sign.

"Hey, crasher-hyungnim."

The boy in front of him waved his hands, trying to get his attention. He looked at the boy and realized that there was another question he got in mind in the midst of all the ery that just happened.

"What are you doing here?"

The strange boy raised his eyebrow.

“Hanging out?”

Yoongi clicked his tongue.

“No, I mean why are you here, in front of me, right now.”

"I found you inside, being all weird and . So I bring you outside and you just puked right there on the corner," the boy said, pointing the direction at which he seemingly had puked. He didn't even remember that. That explained why he had felt better, then.

"You found me inside?"

"Yeah, I did. Such coincidence, right?" he said, face beaming with a smile Yoongi had somehow grown familiar to. "I was like-, wait, is that the crasher-hyungnim from yesterday? And boy was I right. It's weird seeing you here, hyung."

And Yoongi thought that he should be the one that got to say those words.

"It's weird seeing you here. Aren't you too young for clubs?" he said.

A slight blush crept upon the boy's cheek.

"It's that obvious, huh?"

Judging from the chubby cheek and grin, of course it was. But then again it wasn't his business, whether the boy managed to enter the club with fake IDs or not. It wasn’t even his business, where the strange boy decided to venture. Seeing him here was such a coincidence it hardly felt real at all. Yet there stood the very boy who he had crashed the other day. He tried to take a look at the boy's legs, only to see the wound being hidden under the jeans that he was wearing. There wasn't telling whether the wound had healed or not, but Yoongi could bet that it had formed into a scab as ugly as his own.

"How's the leg, kid?"

The boy grinned before answering. "Perfect. I got a friend who’a good at massages and she helped me with the twisted muscle. The most agonizing moment for me now is taking a shower, because wound and soap aren't the best combination ever."

He always talked too much to Yoongi’s liking. But then again everybody always did.

“I haven’t returned your handkerchief,” he blurted, remembering the fabric, still being folded neatly on his nightstand. He should have brought it along if he knew he was going to meet the boy. But then again, of course he wouldn’t know.

“It’s okay, crasher-hyungmin. It’s yours,” he said, grinning.

Yoongi raised his eyebrow. Did the boy just give him his handkerchief for free? He kind of felt it to be weird.

“Min Yoongi.”

“What?”

“Don’t call me ‘crasher-hyungnim.’ I really feel like a crasher,” he blurted out, though he found it to be unnecessary, to repeat his own name, since the boy had somehow taken the knowledge of it even days before. That reminded him. He hadn’t asked how the boy knew his name.

The boy gave him a small smile and he realized that up to this point he didn’t even know the boy’s name, branding him in his mind with nicknames such as ‘the strange boy’ or ‘that one kid that I hit’, with the latter sounding entirely wrong.

“But you are, though,” he said.

Yoongi clicked on his tongue. His head felt light and the headache had left altogether somehow. He breathed in the chill air and finding everything easier to understand and to live with. He felt much better.

“That last time, how do you know my name?”

The strange boy giggled.

“It’s written on your apartment’s door, hyung.”

Yoongi had to resist the temptation to facepalm himself. Of course. Where else could the boy know then? He wasn’t a psychic or some sort (because if he did, he would have been able to avoid the crash in the first place now, wouldn’t he?). The apartment had his name on it, written boldly next to the door, right on top of the mail’s slot. He should have known.

He was about to ask again, this time trying to put a name to the mystery boy when someone called him from behind. Yoongi turned around, seeing Seokjin stepping out of the club, looking for him.

“Yoongi, we’ve been looking for you. We thought that you’ve left.”

“I just went out to get some air,” he said nonchalantly, leaving out the headache from the conversation and most importantly, the part in which he had had a blackout. No one needed to know about that. He was perfectly fine.

Seokjin walked closer towards him, eye squinting, trying to get a better look at his face. He hated it, realizing that Seokjin was determining for himself whether Yoongi was indeed fine or not, trying to find any trace of whatever that could be wrong that was written on his face.

“What’s that on your forehead?”

. The beanie that he had worn to hide the scab was on his hand. He had taken it off earlier.

“It’s nothing,” he said, avoiding eye contact and putting on the beanie at the same time in a haste. It felt like he was running away from the question. He was, actually.

Seokjin sighed. Whatever words he had on the tip of his tongue had disappeared already. The young man looked at him as if he was tired of giving another lecture. Yoongi too knew that he was tired of hearing another. The older boy had seemingly got the same idea as him. None of them needed any consoling or lecturing in the time being, and in silence the two of them had agreed on that.

“It’s a scab, hyung. The one he got in the accident,” the strange boy suddenly jumped in to their conversation.

Hearing that, Yoongi shuddered. What the ? He’d been trying to cover that up especially from Seokjin and suddenly came this weird boy spilling out the very thing that he was desperately trying to hide. Didn’t he have manners, joining conversations like that?

“I didn’t get into an accident, hyung,” he said, facing Seokjin back, denying the words.

“You got into an accident? What kind? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“It’s true though. You kind of did, crasher-hyungnim,” he added, sticking out his tongue.

“Shut up,” he said, turning his head around slightly to see the boy, still standing on his spot, giggling. Seeing that, he felt like wanting to hit the boy for the second time with his car.

And now he kind of regretted not hitting the boy until he really died or something close to a coma. He wouldn’t be able to be this annoying then, when all that he could do was lie on the hospital bed, tubes coming in and out of his body. He turned his head around to face Seokjin, face seemingly confused. Of course he would be. He could only hope that Seokjin didn’t hear it clearly or having such difficulty to understand the strange boy’s words.

“Who’s-?” he asked.

“No one’s important. Forget it, hyung,” he quickly said, cutting off Seokjin’s question.

Then again, he still failed to figure the boy’s name. The boy had remained anonymous and he did feel the need to at least know his name. But then again he didn’t find the need to introduce the said boy to his friend. Doing so would only add to Seokjin’s questions and he was trying to avoid that.

“Hey, that’s mean. At least you can introduce me to your friend!” the boy exclaimed.

Yoongi groaned and Seokjin just looked at him with eyes confused. He tried to find the perfect words to explain the situation without sounding too extreme, because the word ‘I crash him a few nights ago with my car’ sounded rather harsh and Seokjin would undeniably be in such panic, his lecture for him wouldn’t stop for a whole week. Like a mom that he was, he would probably go as far as confiscating his key car.

As if god was being so kind to him that night, this time someone had come out to call out Seokjin’s name. Hyosang again, and Yoongi certainly didn’t know what the young man was up to, but it was enough to pry Seokjin off of him, turning around to see the man walked out of the club’s door.

“Namjoon’s making a scene. He’s clearly drunk. We need you.”

God bless Namjoon and his stupidity.

“What? What did he do now?” asked Seokjin.

“He’s into a crying fit, talking about Jasmine and . No, when I said about I mean literally, ,” Hyosang answered with face nor amused. Hearing that Yoongi only felt like laughing, but managed to keep his mouth shut.

Seokjin looked at Hyosang then back at him, seemingly concerned. He didn’t know why the young man had to always look at him like that, as if something would turn out bad if the elder didn’t have his eyes on him even for a mere second. As if there was something wrong with Yoongi, his gaze described. He hated it because he was fine.

Min Yoongi was fine.

He was perfectly okay.

“I have to go to Namjoon. Will you be okay?”

Yoongi shrugged, saying the same word he had remembered like a mantra.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Seokjin like always, didn’t look too convinced, but Namjoon spoke as a greater worry for now.

“You’re going home?”

His words spoke more of a suggestion instead of a question and he got the message behind it. Besides, he too felt like this would be the perfect time to head home. He had missed his apartment already.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Seokjin nodded. The man ran back towards the club’s entrance after Hyosang and Yoongi sighed. Right before he went inside the older ce again, seemingly not convinced with his answer. He always did and Yoongi didn’t know why he had to. Was he that hard to be believed in? Were his words smell of lies and deceived?

“You sure you can get home without me accompanying you?”

He groaned, expressing clearly how he didn’t want to be babysit.

“I’m fine, hyung. Really.”

Seokjin let out a smile, finally being satisfied of his answer before he disappeared back into the club.

“You have such a nice friend,” the strange boy said again and Yoongi kind of forgot for a minute that he was still there[i-[7] , standing behind him.

“Yeah, he was.”

Even as troublesome as Seokjin’s attention could be, he was still glad to be able to call the young man as a dear friend, because he wasn’t one to abandon his friends just like that. With Seokjin at least he knew that he wouldn’t be left behind. He sighed, thinking that maybe he was being the mean one, brushing off Seokjin’s attention just like that.

“What’s your name, kid?” he asked.

“You didn’t even know the name of the person you crashed on,” the boy said, his hands resting on his waist.

“Just tell me the name,” he growled.

The kid smiled and somehow he couldn’t seem to forget that one smile, being imprinted in his brain. He thought how the smile would haunt his night and how odd this was be, because he certainly didn’t know the explanation behind that weird feeling and premonition.

“I’m going to say this once and you’ll never be able to forget the name of the person you’ve crashed.”

The boy’s words echoed through his head. It would be true, he oddly felt.

“It’s Park Jimin. The name’s Park Jimin.”

Park Jimin. Chubby cheek, obnoxious smile, loud-mouthed, a complete brat, and somehow he met this particular boy because he had crashed his car on him in the middle of the road at 3 in the morning.

Park Jimin.

And he wouldn’t be able to forget that name, even when he got back to his apartment. The smile and the name was branded deep to the root of his brain, taking most of his thoughts as he lied on his back on the bed, trying to gain the sleep that seemed to always be out of his grasp. In the end he somehow managed to, with the smile of Park Jimin still echoing in his mind and the boy’s name at the tip of his tongue.

Park Jimin.

Someone he crashed his car on at 3 in the morning.