The designated smoking area for the company building is unnecessarily high, Jimin notes as he bursts through the rooftop door. 

He can only imagine that at one point, someone, most likely the previous boss, had wondered around the building looking for a perfect smoking spot. He had stumbled across the rooftop on his adventures and like any other stereotypical tired office worker, had become somewhat captivated by the clichéd view of the edgy skyline, something to keep him distracted from the headache of work as he blew his quickly fading cigarette. 

Despite his nagging fear of heights and his dislike for the mainstream, Jimin has an appreciation for the view. 

One side of the rooftop is already occupied by a lonely figure, so like any other well-mannered man, Jimin takes the opposite side. 

He watches the other man distractedly as he fiddles around his pocket for his pack of cigs. 

Thin limbs, far too expensive suit and soft and light hair gently brushed by the wind. 

Jimin is watching him for far too long, mesmerised as the figure seems to almost blend in and disappear into pink and orange skies and he nearly forgets about his original plan. 

"." He curses quietly. 

He doesn't have his lighter with him.  

He fiddles around in his pockets a little more but his hands come out empty and it dims his day just that little bit more (at least he didn't get yelled at for being caught reading dank memes). 

Considering the distance from the company building to the closest convenience store, Jimin seriously re-evaluates his decisions. 

He supposes he could ask Taehyung for a lighter but his coworker is in some place, somewhere (Dubai [Jimin is in denial]), Seokjin doesn't smoke and Jungkook is underage.  

Knowing that he has a very limited amount of concentration without his hit, Jimin finds his gaze landing on the backside of the figure opposite him. 

Surely, he is here for the same reason any other person would be. 

Jimin makes sure to make audible but not obnoxiously loud steps towards the other, though his entrance had sounded like an explosion and the individual is probably very aware of his presence. 

The wind is stronger on this side, he observes by the way Jimin finds himself squinting so much that he can barely see as to not get crap in his eyes (it isn't too difficult a task really, and he can pretty much just picture Jungkook making a snarky remark about his eyes had he been next to him).  

Daringly, he leans over he cheap and ratty fencing, letting it creak under his weight. It's the only thing stopping him from becoming a slop of human remains. 

Jimin shudders at the thought. 

He peeks a glance at the individual hoping to see his attention on him. 

But his attention is elsewhere (Jimin only takes a little offense in that), and rather focused on a small metal lighter carefully engraved with a blue metal fashioned into delicate swirls.   

It's a beautiful piece really, Jimin thinks, and it suits its owner. 

"Sorry, I don't have my lighter with me," the male doesn't seem to be concerned at all with Jimin's presence by his lack of acknowledgement, "could you light my cig?"  

And he leans in with his cigarette in his mouth, and when he expects a flaming heat, he is instead given something cold, wedged in his free hand. 

"Keep it." Is all Jimin manages to catch, and he leaves. 

He's watching the same back he had saw only moments before walk away. It's once again, a mesmerising sight.  

The walk is slow and somewhat graceful even with lanky limbs, and Jimin's eyes are glued onto the figure until he disappears behind rusty doors. 

He is in a sort of trance, even as he holds a flame to his face and he takes his first acrid and soothing breath of well ground tobacco leaves. 

He flips the metal slab around in his hand and notices that it's actually heavy for its small size. 

But it's only when the final rays of the sunset glimmer, that a small and cursive engraving catches his eye. 

Y. Min 

----- 

It's almost a week after the encounter, but Jimin hasn't used the 'gift' (Jimin has convinced himself) he has been given. 

He takes it out when he goes for a smoke break, letting it sit in his hand as he turns it every once in a while, feeling the crevices of the engraving under the pad of his thumb. 

But he can't seem to find the willingness to light it. He flicks it open but he can't bring himself to use it. 

"Bo