"You're not so bad yourself," I found my tongue.

"Fortunately, this isn't my best look." he laughed. "I haven't slept for the past three days."

I studied his dark circles once again, wondering what on earth kept this boy awake when everyone was dreaming. I waited for him to tell me more, but he didn't. Oh no. The conversation is coming to an end. No. Do something.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

He pursed his lips.  "Min Yoongi. Remember it because it's going to be known worldwide one day."

The beautiful boy now had a name. I cocked my eyebrow at him. "And why would that be?"

"Just..." his jaw tightened. "I don't want to expose anything because some things aren't definite yet."

"Well, it's too late for that. My name is Hana by the way. I hope you remember that, even though I can only go so far with my art."

Yoongi inhaled sharply, and let out a loud sigh. "I believe if you work hard enough, you'll be able to go wherever you want."

"You really think so?" I laughed lightly, bending over to get my brush again. "You should know better. Aren't you older than me?" I stood up, expecting anything but a solemn face, but that was what greeted me.

"Believing that is the only thing that keeps me going, Hana. Since I'm the older one, you should stay true to your youth. Children are supposed to believe in the impossible." he shook his head. I didn't retort back about being a child, because at this moment he seemed so much older than I am, so much wiser. I stared at him, trying to read all the words he left hidden, but he remained a mystery.

"Why do you stay up all night?" I asked, fiddling with the brush handle.

"Oh you know, partying. Hitting it up at the clubs." he shrugged, and noticed the look I was giving him. "I was producing music."

"You produce music?" My eyes went wide.

He waved his hands. "I haven't debuted yet. I'm actually a rapper. Well, trying to be one."

"I'd love to have a listen one day." I told him, but what did I know about rap?

"No can do. I'm still tuning it to the utmost perfection."

"Oh." my heart dropped, already feeling the guilt from treading over the boundaries. He noticed this, and grabbed my wrist to hold the paintbrush up.

"Tell you what. You chase after your passion-" he shot a pointed look to my precious tool, "and I chase mine. Don't give up."

He released my wrist, my arms dropping to my sides. "Promise me then," I spoke, my heart beating a mile a minute from his touch. "That we'll see each other at the top. No- let's watch each other climb."

He didn't respond at all, but I knew by looking at him that he felt uneasy. Maybe he wasn't used to assertive girls like me, heck even I'm surprised by the way I'm acting now, but I needed someone who supported me, someone other than myself.

"Can I have your number?" The words flew out of my mouth. Yoongi's hand went up to his neck, rubbing the back of it. "You're the only person who believes in me."

He  eventually fished out his phone to give it to me. "Hana..." he muttered. "I don't think we should get too close."

I called my cellphone from his. "We're just going to be each other's pillars of support. Is there something wrong?"

"I just feel uneasy."

"Why? A soon-to-be famous person shouldn't be exchanging numbers with a nobody?"

His irises darkened and shook his head roughly. "How could you even say that-"

"Then?" I pressed on further.

"Hana, just... we shouldn't get too involved with each other." he reiterated.

I handed him his phone, fully knowing that I would never be the one to text him first. "We won't be."

He stuffed his device into his pocket without a single glance at it. "Right. Okay."

And when he left, I wished for a number of things:

1. Let me see him again.

2. Let me see him again.

3. Let me see him again.