“Have you ever seen someone so beautiful time seems to stop around them?”

The sun outside is still yet to rise.

And that means, most people are still cozy on their beds and sleeping. Only the few risers who have business to deal with in this ungodly hour or elders doing their daily aerobics in the nearby park are the only ones loitering around the neighborhood. Sunday morning is supposed to be a work-free and rest day. Slumping on the couch while still in your comfy flannel pyjamas, flipping the remote all over the early morning television shows with a cup of hot coffee on the other hand. That is.

But for some odd reason, a third year college student is already having a mental breakdown on an early Sunday morning for his final project in the form of Min Yoongi.

Two weeks have passed since their professor had announced about their final project that would be due the next month and creativity still hasn’t visited him even once. This supposed to hit him like a truck since photography is like a second nature to him, as natural as breathing. But the last couple of weeks were wasted into staring into distant spaces, mind trying to scramble some useful and decent ideas for the project but all are still off. Nothing. None.

The hands that’re gripping his strawberry pink hair is dangerously on the verge of tearing his scalp off his skull. Eyes heavy from the lack of sleep – from editing and brainstorming – with almost bruised-like bags residing under it. Already pale skin looking even unhealthier paler in just a span of two weeks.

And he felt like crying from utter frustration because this wasn’t supposed to be like this.

A resigned sigh escaped passed his lips, pursing into thin line as nimble fingers grazed over the photo papers in front of him. Colorful and monochrome photos he had taken from the last two weeks are all scattered on the wooden desk, assorted and waiting. He thought this could somehow work, that amongst these photos at least one would stood out…but none to his disappointment. None. All was considered a garbage, according to him, and not worth a look.

With a heavy heart, Yoongi stood up and collect all the photos, placing them in a manila paper envelope before walking away. Maybe, it’s best for him to get some sleep for now before taking a stroll outside to look for a better subject, which he hoped would be a success.

It’s already four in the afternoon when he wakes up.

Still a bit disgruntled from sleep, he forced himself to roll out of bed. Pulling a black hoodie, paired up with jeans. Pink hair sticking in every direction, trying to tame it in front of the mirror but failed and eventually put a black beanie atop his head to hide the stubborn pink strands. He walk over his working desk to grab his camera, slinging the strap over his neck before turning to his heel and making his way outside the house.

A ray of yellow-orange light greeted him. He tilt his head up to look up, sun starting to set somewhere in west and sky mixing the colors of yellow, orange, pink and purple. The view above is ethereal, oddly giving him some sense of mellow effect that he can’t help himself from putting his camera lens in front of him, finger pushing the shutter one, two, three times to capture the scene. It’s good. It’s good.

He moved his feet forward, taking a leisure steps in the slightly busy neighborhood as he tore his eyes from the sky. There are high school students walking home from school, businessman catching their bus and children walking their dogs to go to the park. Yoongi capture the busy surroundings around him, pushing his shutter relentlessly hoping that this is it.

Hours passed and the sky above was completely took over by darkness before Yoongi felt his stomach grumbled. He hasn’t eaten anything since he went to bed this morning, no wonder he’s starving. The air outside is slowly becoming chilly as the temperature tentatively dropping. And it is a good thing there is a coffee shop a few meters in front of him.

As he set a foot in the said shop, warm air hits his freezing exposed skin, the chime above his head creating a sound signaling there is a new customer. The shop wasn’t packed, thank God, walking himself towards the empty four seater on the far end near the glass wall and flopping on the settee. He pulled the camera strap off his neck and rest it on the table. Finger hovering over the button to slide the images he took this afternoon and look over it. There were decent photos this time he thinks he can use. At least, they’re not all going straight to the recycle bin later.

Have you ever seen someone so beautiful time seems to stop around them?

Yoongi asked himself as he abandoned the spoonful of blueberry cheesecake hung mid-air, mouth still slightly agape from the action of eating when the small chime from behind him softly clinks.

Two boys about his age, if not younger (but he doubt it) enters the shop; one with chocolate brown hair that is about his height, built and sun-kissed skin, and one with mushroom-like hairdo that is slightly taller than the former. Both boys are chattering animatedly to each other, seemingly absorbed at their topic as they both walk straight towards the counter. The guy with mushroom-like hairdo leaned to whisper something on the smaller – who nods his head in agreement – before moving his neck to look for the empty seat. The smaller boy stayed quiet on his side like a good kid, round eyes glued straight before him and arms circled over the other’s forearm tightly.

They look cute. They look like couple.

But the last thought made some odd constricting in Yoongi’s chest, choking on the long forgotten piece of blueberry cheesecake still inside his mouth, and reminds himself to chew and swallow first before bringing his attention back on the two new comers. His hand blindingly finding the cup of his cooling mocha latte on the table, sipping the liquid with his eyes still glued on the two boys.

It’s like, something pound harshly in Yoongi’s chest, knocking his breath out of his lungs as his blood rushed through his face and thrums in his ears when he noticed the two boys are walking towards his general direction. And then he saw that the only vacant seat was the two seater beside him.

“Come sit here, Jiminnie.” He heard the taller boy said as they approached from behind him, pulling one of the chairs and letting the smaller boy settle on the seat. The mushroom-like haired boy glance over Yoongi’s table, giving him a small smile as their eyes met before the boy withdraw his eyes back to the smaller boy. “I’ll get you the usual?” The boy asked.

The tanned skin boy smiles, nodding his head like an excited puppy. “Yes, please.”

The voice sounds so soft and sweet in Yoongi’s ears, and something in his stomach twirls.

“I got you.” Were the only words the taller boy said before they both giggled, sounding youthful and light. He left the smaller boy on the their table to head towards the counter and Yoongi can’t help but stole a glance over the smaller boy – Jiminnie as the mushroom haired boy calls him – because he just stays quite, small smile still planted on his lips while looking down at his fidgeting fingers resting on the table.

It’s wrong, Yoongi thinks, because it’s almost invading someone’s privacy, as he felt like it. But his hands seems to have their own minds when they reached for his