A/N: Ayy chapter one, hope you enjoy because i kinda want they're relationship. Also if you want to check out jungkook: end, i'll be updating chatper one in a few minutes

Ahn Yoomi

The room was dusty. The entire apartment seemed to feel as if it was covered in a fine layer of dust. No matter how much we cleaned, it always felt as if the dust would settle back down the next day. So I'd grown used to it's presence, it was the one constant thing in my life. Not my job, not my family, not even my lovely boyfriend was there for me the way dust was. It haunted me, as did the words; to dust you shall return.

I stepped inside our bedroom, kicking my heels off into the pile of strewn shoes. Loosening the bow tie around my neck that the restaurant owner made the waitresses wear, I tore it off and pushed open several buttons. The closer I got to the bed, the more I pulled off. I yanked the tight pencil skirt off and then my shirt until I was only wearing my bra and .

“Joon,” I muttered, exhaustion deep in my voice. Calling for my boyfriend, the shape under the grey comforter moved and I heard a low voice respond.

“Yoomi-ah?” He rasps, tilting his head lazily to the side to spot me. Our bed was piled with old quilts and a throw in attempts to keep warm because we couldn't afford a high electric bill.

Too tired to do much else, I crawled up onto the bed, over his figure and slipped under the sheets with him. His warm arms reached for me immediately, pulling me to his chest. We were well into winter, but he only wore a pair of soft sweatpants that brushed against my bare legs.

“Good morning, babygirl. How was work?” Namjoon murmured, tucking my head underneath his chin. I inhaled his calming scent as I nuzzled closer to him, wrapping my arms around his bare torso.

“Horrible.” I tell him, pressing kisses on his collarbones. One of his hands slips up my back to tangle in my hair.

“Any reason specifically this time?” He asks and I hear humor in his voice.

“No, just the usual.” I say with a sigh. Namjoon chuckles, but we both know that we have barely a few minutes together in this bed before he has to get up and go to work. I worked night shifts, day shifts, any shifts that my waitressing job could give me. Namjoon worked early morning shifts at a nearby gas station before he went to the studio to work on his music. He would stay in studio until late in the night.

These few, precious moments were all that we had together.

“Dress warmly when you go out,” he tells me, already guessing that I have another shift today.

“Don't stay too late at the studio today,” I smile tiredly against his skin. “My shift ends at ten tonight, we could have dinner together.”

Namjoon presses a kiss to my head. “That sounds amazing, first meal together in ages.”

“When do you have to go?” I ask, even though I already know. His shift was from five am until three pm.

“I have to get ready in a couple minutes,” he tells me regretfully. “But when you have time, check your email. I completed the gula project last night, if you want you can listen to it before my YouTube audience does. We release is this Friday.” He tells me.

I nod against him, happy that he had completed his project. It was difficult for Namjoon, he was producing music with a company that didn't have much money, in fact he spent money out of his own pocket most of the time to produce his music. YouTube offered little audience and income, but he could only grow from there. And what could he do? He loved music. And I loved him.

“I'll make sure to,” I whisper, fighting to stay away. My next shift was in six hours, I needed all the sleep I could get.

“You know that I do this all for you, baby,” Namjoon presses another kiss to the top of my head like he does every morning when I wake him up for work. “I love you and every word that I write is for you.”

“I know,” I smile against his skin, feeling so incredibly luck and loved. We didn't have much, but he made me feel like I had everything. “I love you more.”

I fell asleep wrapped up in his arms but I rarely woke up with him still against me and the soft, sleepy mood from the night would disappear when I wake up in a cold bed looking at another nine hour shift at the restaurant. Being with him was dreamy, warm but then I'd wake up and the reality was as cold as our tiny apartment.

Maybe I was growing older. Older than I ever thought I’d get.

Being young and fearless was something that I had taken pride in, being a twelve years old, taking the subway downtown, running around and just creating chaos. It almost seemed as if I tried to rebel in every

aspect of my life in my younger years. My parents were strict, so in high school I dyed all my hair dark green, pierced my nose, and worked all the night shifts that the nearby convenience store could over me. I slept in class because I knew it would drive my teachers insane, but I studied hard after school hours. I kissed boys I knew my friends wouldn’t approve of, my career advisor suggested that I studied medicine so I developed a love for art.

And now I regretted it. Now, I was scared. Scared of everything. Too scared to take the outrageous risks I used to be able to without bli