JaneInRain

Chapter 3. Courir Vite!

"Meet me at Rue de Lorraine street, I'll pick you up."

"To return your ribbon… of course"

Disbelief was no longer a stranger to you. The feeling of your head spinning, pace quickening, and shoulders tensing visited you ad nauseam. The shock of seeing a message from V has slammed into you again and again. It should have worn out by now; the excitement should have dulled. But no, it is as though a new match sparked inside you each time you looked at the messages. As hot and bright as the one before. Your eyes lingered on the last message before you ripped your gaze from your phone, returning to the outside world. You then began your journey, weaving through the crowd. Looking around, a sad wistfulness etched itself onto everyone's features. This, you thought to yourself, was something you sympathised with, but could not relate to. For their night was now ending, but yours just now beginning. 

Your boots clicked against the cement pavement outside the stadium. The further you walked, the quieter the post-concert bustle was. Soon, the commotion was reduced to soft murmurs from the few around you—mixed with the gentle chirps of the crickets. Your head finally felt clear after what seemed like a millennium of chaos. You breathed in deep—the fresh smell of the night and woodfire entered your body. The calmness of the environment demanded one to feel tranquil. Nonetheless, your hands shook. You wiped the sweat off your brow and took a shuddering breath. It still did not feel real that you would be seeing Kim Taehyung. You still had your reservations despite the paramount evidence indicating that it would be him. It could be a coincidence. You could be walking into something dangerous. Wasn't it a little silly to agree to be driven by a stranger in the dead of night? Your walking slowed. In a city you didn't know? You stopped. That spoke a language foreign to you? You slowly turned on your heel. 

As you began to retreat, you heard the low purr of a vehicle. You turned your head to examine the sound. The car next to you slowed to a stop. And what a car it was. The mirror-polished black supercar was a testament to obscene wealth. Before you could make the connection, the tinted windows lowered smoothly. The first thing that caught your eye was a dash of white fabric. Your ribbon. It was all you could make out in contrast to the darkness of the street, the car, the silhouette. So if that was your ribbon, then the person holding it must be…

Your heart thrummed in your chest. Again, you froze at the hypothetical. You entered that liminal state of denying and expecting. Your eyes had not yet proven what your mind told you. His entire being was an enigma. All your interactions wore a thick, shrouded veil. Be it a haze of alcohol, the barrier of a phone screen, or the cloak of darkness between you two now. There was always a separation. This was why doubts littered your mind. The detachment served as a cocoon of protection - denial that this was real at all. Like a moth to a flame, you gravitated towards the flurry of white. Timidly, you reached a shaking hand out to retrieve the ribbon. As the material grazed your fingertips, you felt it whip back into the void of darkness. You scoffed.

"You have got to be kidding", you scorned, the wall of darkness and denial providing a morsel of confidence. 

"I'm so sorry, I can't seem to reach that far." You could recognise that rich velvety voice anywhere. The teasing line turned the cold air warm, kissing its way from your ears throughout your body. After a beat of silence, the door in front of you slowly pushed open. You stared at the gap left ajar. The darkness between the door and the vehicle held fear and uncertainty, but above all, thrummed with opportunity. The wordless invitation hung in the air, so daunting. Yet so terribly thrilling. You took a deep breath, then pushed the door open. Sliding into the passenger seat, you searched for the door handle and shut it behind you. You locked your vision onto the door in fear of turning around. Slowly, you forced yourself to face the silhouette.

In that moment, the aforementioned cocoon of safety was torn to shreds. What you were met with was raw reality. Kim Taehyung stared back at you. His features were more handsome, deeper, and more real than any form of media could wish to portray. His dark eyes scanned your face, not worried, not smug, but interested. A light smile threatened to tug at his full lips. You felt like prey crossing predator territory - his presence was crushing, and he knew it. You finally broke the silence, scrummaging every morsel of confidence. "I don't think I've introduced myself", you started, "I'm _____". 

"Nice to meet you ____, I am Taehyung" he spoke serenely, outstretching his hand for you to shake. It was almost comical, him sharing his name as if it wasn't your first and last thought every day. You took his hand into yours, his long fingers enveloped yours. He smelt of a rich musky cologne. That and a faint tint of sweat. Not in an odourful way, but in a way that smelt like a man. This scent almost drove you insane. He still wore his performance clothes, his face dusted with a faint glow. As your skin touched his, a pulse ran through your arm. He felt like something you shouldn't touch, an artefact in the museum. It felt like someone should slap your hand away and scold you. But no one did. 

"Thank you for inviting me in your car", you expressed, offering a soft smile. A light 'hm' was all you received. His commanding composure held a stark contrast to your nerves. He was transfixed on your face, taking his sweet time to drink in each feature of yours shamelessly. You shifted in your seat, the air suddenly becoming stuffy and hot. "Sooo…" you trailed. You clasped your hands into your lap, elbows locking as your posture tightened. "Why has V of BTS invited me into his car? I feel like the last time you saw me, I did not give off an excellent impression," you questioned apprehensively. Leaning back against the seat, Taehyung crossed his arms. He drew a sharp breath through his teeth as a thoughtful expression graced his face.

"You promise not to let this get to your head?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow as he gave you a sidelong glance. Taken aback, you nodded–too eagerly. "Well, at first I…", he trailed off. His eyes weren't trained on you anymore, but on something behind you. His expression faltered, widened eyes flicking between yours and the subject. Nothing could have prepared you for the horror as you turned around. A cold chill rippled throughout your body. Right next to you, a face pushed against the tinted window. Their skin plastered onto the pane, smearing their features into grotesque proportions. Within seconds, they unstuck their face from the window and began screaming. Akin to a blaring alarm, their voice boomed, "Taehyung is in this car! With a girl!" Slowly, you turned to him, only to find the same dread written on his face. 

After a breathless pause, came a whirlwind of chaos. "Oh my god," you started. Like a broken record, you repeated the phrase again and again. He swiftly started the car whilst speaking over you. "We're leaving now, we don't have much time," he quickly yanked his seatbelt on. "Did you put your seatbelt on?" His words barely registered as your head spun. His frantic movements, the sound of you both talking over each other, the blinding shutter of camera flashes growing around you as the screaming horde approached, were all too much. They saw you, your face would be all over the news, you shouldn't have done this, your life is over, you'll be shunned from society, without friends, without safety, without– Just as your panic threatened to swallow you whole, a hand touched your shoulder and anchored you back into the car. "Breathe," Taehyung spoke, gentle enough you'd almost think it wasn't a command. The other hand reached around you, grabbing the seatbelt on your side. He was mere inches away from you, and the fragrance of his cologne wrapped around you. The small distance between your bodies was charged with warmth and awareness. Taehyung pulled at the seatbelt and pushed it into the clasp, his knuckles lightly brushing the outside of your thigh. With a quick maneuver of the gear shift, the car roared, then screeched, as he pulled into the street. Your back pressed against the seat cushion as the car propelled forward at an impossible speed. The street lights turned into a blur of shooting stars, the cars dashes of grey, and the trees dashes of green. 

"Shit," he muttered. "Paparazzi vans are following us," his deep voice reverberated. The tension in the car was palpable. Following what felt like an eon of lefts and rights, you spotted an off-road track hidden between a thick wall of trees. "Turn in here!" you exclaimed. Without a beat of hesitation, he swerved into the track, the back wheels dragging across the road. You traversed the dirt road for around a minute, the only light around you being the headlights. The end itself was surrounded by thick forest—the looming trees stood like tall sentinels, promising no escape. Taehyung switched the car off as the headlights went out; what used to be dim outlines of trees turned pitch-black. 

Finally, there was silence. Finally, there was stillness. The security of the surrounding trees and the comfort of the darkness helped ease most of your anxiety. You took a deep breath in, compensating for holding your breath for the entire ride. In unison, both you and Taehyung sighed. You both looked at each other in surprise. The tension in the car quickly melted away as a shared laugh escaped both of you. 

"So how often do you get into car chases with girls after your concerts?" you quipped, your finger tracing circles around the armrest. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or the intimacy of it all, that made the words slip out of your mouth before you thought. He then laughed. It wasn't an awkward laugh. It wasn't forced either. It was a deep, warm laugh. Almost boyish as his cheeks heated in embarrassment.

"Not many," Taehyung admitted, the outline of his head shaking regretfully. "Why, jealous?" he interrogated, amusement threading into his voice.

Your finger stopped tracing circles. "Not at all, I don't even know you." You cringed at how blatant the lie was; of course, you knew him, almost everyone did. However, he would never figure out the extent to which you did. 

"That's true," he drawled, his body shifting to face yours. "Well, since my older sister canceled, I thought I would hang out with you."

"You don't have an older sister, you have two younger siblings," you corrected. The words yet again escaped your mouth before your brain could protest. Correcting him was like muscle memory. A smug "ah" escaped his lips, knowing his conniving scheme caught you in your tracks. The car suddenly felt unbearably hot, you thought of jumping out and running away. Until you heard him chuckle, you glanced up to see him already looking at you. The soft glow of moonlight tracing his perfect features. His eyes glistened in the dark, the kind of eyes that could hold someone captive forever. 

Without any physical indication, the air shifted from playful into something deeper. More intimate. Something that left your chest to rise a little higher and fall a little lower. Something that made you squeeze your legs together. And he felt it too. You knew he felt it when his eyes trained on your thighs as they pushed together—then back to your eyes. You knew he felt it when his gaze settled on your lips. He leaned in painfully slowly, tilting his head to the side and licking his lips. His presence was overpowering; you felt like shrinking as he prowled towards you. Just as he was about to close the distance between you, his phone began to blare. You both jolted in unison.

Taehyung rolled his eyes and muttered something. You didn't register what he said, as you were fighting your own battle in that moment. What just happened? Despite the dark, you were acutely aware of how red your face was. 

"I'm so sorry ____, I have to take this," said Taehyung; his eyes brimming with apology and remorse. You quickly dismissed the apology with a waving hand. Shifting your body away from him, you looked out the window in an attempt to provide him a sense of privacy for the phone call. However, it was simply impossible not to eavesdrop. 

"Hello?" Taehyung started. The voice on the other line sounded rushed. The person whispered urgently, "Tae, where are you right now?!" Shuffling then filled their side of the call, as though they were using the phone in secret. 

"Don't worry about it," Taehyung replied. 

"Don't worry about it? Tae, you need to get here NOW," the voice, which sounded a whole lot like Jimin, hissed.

Taehyung readjusted in his seat, clearly taken aback from the unexpected severity of the call. "Why? Am I in trouble?" he questioned.

"Tae it's bad, you–", more muffled voices sounded from the other line. "Oh no, I have to go. HURRY. NOW!" Jimin squeezed the final plea before ending the call.

Without words, Taehyung started the car again. "I'm sorry, we have to go now. If Jimin is this freaked out… it must be bad." He placed his hand behind your headrest as he looked behind to reverse the car. You studied his stern features, his jaw was set; his expression unreadable. Without warning, his gaze snapped towards you. "You okay?" he spoke softly. The sudden attention to you threw you off slightly.

"Yes, well, won't the fans still be out there?" you questioned, remembering the severity of your escapade with V. 

He sucked in his teeth as he continued to reverse, "Maybe… But I'm going for the lesser of the two evils." He then looked back at you with a smile. "Also, this car drives fast."

The remainder of the ride flew by. Metaphorically and literally, as Taehyung showed no mercy on the gas pedal. You moved too fast to even register whether there were any paparazzi vans around. 

✦ ✦ ✦

Before you knew it, Taehyung pulled into a driveway guarded by black iron gates, their thin structure curling into classic French grandeur. He drove to a post and punched in a code, causing the gates to slide open. You could not restrain your gasp as you beheld the mansion set in front of you. Even in the dark, the building was breathtaking. Ivy climbed the limestone walls. The windows were set out in rows, each adorned with baroque detailing typical of European architecture. You were so entranced with the scenery that you did not notice Taehyung step out of the car. You snapped back into the moment when your door opened. V stepped aside as he held it ajar. You stepped out of the car, your boots emitting a soft click as they hit the ground. You then both began walking to the building. He walked with urgency; you walked with hesitation. The gap between you widened the closer you approached the entrance. 

"What is this place exactly?" you squeaked, your voice sounding far more timid than intended. 

He turned around and stopped for you to catch up. "This is what we are renting for our stay in Paris," Taehyung replied.

"We?" you implored. 

"Well, all of the members, of course," Taehyung responded, shifting slightly as though he was agitated by the delay of entrance. You had no time to process the possibility of meeting all the members as he took your hand and dragged you forward.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 2. Very Important Person

The melody of the choir of birds outside your window stirred you awake. Finally cracking your eyes open, everything in your body fought against any movement. You felt decrepit as you sat up. You looked around, blinking once, then twice. Where were you? Your eyes followed the soft light that seeped through the translucent curtains, hanging off the tall windows. The sun’s filtered glow danced onto the silk sheets of the four poster bed. Opposite from where you were sitting was a large fireplace that seemed more like a ridiculous display of wealth than function. This room was beautiful. The intricate details on the furniture spoke of aristocratic France, the simplicity of the creamy white walls calmed the art from seeming too extravagant, the smell of freshly washed fabric interlaced with the wafting scent of baking pastries from outside. The entire atmosphere felt like you were in a dream. However, as the clock softly ticked, reality began to slowly chip the dream facade away. You began to remember the night. The club. The sidewalk. The man. The man whose house this belongs to.

You looked over to the oak bedside table, held on thin legs that swirled around. Your foul and betraying phone sat there, screen black as ever. Luckily a charger was right next to it. You connected the plug to the cable and waited - the stretch of silence forcing you to cringe at the memories. I was such a mess in front of him, and he was so attractive. Who even forgets their hotel name?? You crinkle your nose at the thought. Before you even dared to think about the state of your hair towards the end of the night, you heard a buzz from your side.

You looked at your lit phone. Then something stuck to its back dropped into your lap. A black paper card with refined silver writing looked back at you. There was no name, no business, just a sequence of eleven numbers. That’s right, the man gave you his number. Wait… HE GAVE YOU HIS NUMBER?? Even with the state of your hair?! You quickly punched the numbers into your phone - you needed to thank him for his altruistic kindness.

“Good morning. Thank you so much for helping me last night”

You threw your phone to the other side of the bed. Your face heated as you anticipated the eventual response. Almost instantaneously, a ding sounded from your phone. Pouncing at your phone, you read the notification.

“Good afternoon, I was wondering when you’d finally wake up!”

You scoffed. You didn’t remember him being so feisty in real life.

“I wouldn’t have taken that message so gracefully if I wasn’t so indebted to you”

“Should I be worried about who is in my house right now?”

“Only if you’re particularly attached to your valuables”

“You’re funny. Anyways, I would like to make you further indebted to me”

Your eyebrows pinched in confusion. What could that mean? The longer you waited, the more sinister the text message seemed.

*Image attached*

“Enjoy ;)”

Oh god.

Quickly overcoming the fear, you download the file. You scanned the document.

OH GOD.

The title read: VIP Exclusive Package Ticket x 1 BTS Arirang Tour.

Your mouth fell open as your head drew back away from your phone. Blinking rapidly in disbelief you attempted to make sense of the image. Is this real? This must be fake. How could this man have access to the tickets? Maybe he worked in the management team? Or as a promoter? Even so, surely they wouldn’t be handing out exclusive tickets so freely - especially on the day of the concert. Oh god. If this ticket is real, the concert starts in a few hours. You didn’t even give him the grace of a response as you began packing your belongings back into your small purse. Stumbling out of the door, you took one final look at the room of your dreams then strode out.

⭒⭒⭒

You glanced at your phone, the clock reading 7:00pm. The cold breeze was of little reprieve from the heat the bodies around you exuded. The barricade lightly pressed against your ribs as you propped your elbows atop its edge. You managed to claim front row not only because the tickets were real, but because they included escorting by the security to the very front of the pit. You could not believe the situation you were in. It felt you were not in your own body, but living through the lens of someone else, someone incredibly lucky. You looked upwards, taking in the beauty of the setting sun, light pastel colours dusting the pink sky.

The energy of the stadium was electric, the buzz of over seventy thousand fans produced a frequency of pure excitement. Everything felt surreal. Your body was in a state of shock although you were receiving no sensory input. You were blinded by hypotheticals, heart thrumming at the sight of an empty stage, your breath quickening at no sound in particular. Reality had not yet fabricated, but you responded as if it did. Feeling as though you were stuck in a liminal state between expecting and denying. There is no way these men were actually real. They were merely pixels on your screen, ink on your poster, sounds in your earphones. As the sky turned from a light pastel to something deeper, more intimate, the crowd quietened. It was as though you all collectively decided to catch your breath, everyone snapping their necks to the moving figure from the corner of their eye. You followed suit, seeing the red smoke engulf the stage as they ran to the middle. Then, a discordant melody played around the entire dome, the sound of a broken record filling the area from top to bottom. A sea of more dark, masked figures ran across the stage - each chaotically careening across to the melody of Hooligan. As they rushed through, a trail of red flame pursued them. You had never felt anything like this. You screamed along with the entire stadium in a futile attempt to release the overwhelming emotions your body was trying to keep contained. Tears threatened to make their way down your face as you stared up at the assembly of dancers. If that moment was overwhelmingly euphoric, you could not even begin to describe what you felt when you saw the face of each BTS member as they ran alongside the dancers. You felt it was a sin to be this close to the stage. You saw the glisten of their accessories against the stage light, saw their facial expressions as they circled the centre of the stage. And you certainly saw V, in all his glory. You loved them all, but it was something about Kim Taehyung. Something about his presence that made you draw closer; to the screen before, to the stage now. You felt your soul disconnect from your body as you took in everything about him. His loose fitting black leather clothing, perfectly sculpted face, the freckle on his nose, his neat dark hair, some which was held up by his ribbon.

Wait…

His ribbon?

YOUR RIBBON?

It was as though life itself stopped. Your brain was working so fast making connections that the passage of time slowed. There was no mistaking it, that was your ribbon. The detailing on it was unquestionably yours. That was the ribbon you left in the car as you arrived at the apartment of the mystery man. But alas, the stage is still full of smoke. You must have been mistaken. And even if the detailing was the same, it is surely just a similar ribbon. Denial overwhelmed you. However, this denial was short-lived. For around two songs to be specific.

In the interlude between the songs, all the members were circling the stage, waving for the fans. You screamed louder for each one that came along, holding onto the arms of the strangers next to you in excitement. After being greeted by the six members, you knew who was to come. Anticipation gnawed at your skin as the blurry figure moved towards your section of the crowd. Then he came into view, his entire presence was sinfully alluring. You could not take your eyes away from him. He was magnetic, hypnotic. In the way he moved as though he owned the stage, the way he scanned the crowd with his shadowed eyes, the way he stopped at you.

His gaze locked with yours. You couldn’t breathe. A smirk flashed across his face for less than a second, breaking the mask of concentration. His movement stopped. The crowd gaped. Slowly, he reached his hand up to his hair, pulling the end of the ribbon so it would come undone. Gaze not breaking from yours, he pushed the ribbon into the breast pocket of his jacket, closing the zip then patting it lightly. In that moment, you did not feel the physical contact of those squished next to you. You did not hear the chatter and cries from the crowd. All you saw was V, and all he saw was you. It was as if no one else in the world existed, like nothing else in the world was certain until now. After what felt like an eternity, he moved again. Blowing a kiss in your direction and began making his way to the other side of the platform. Your trance was then shattered.

The crowd erupted. The shrill high-pitched screams of the fans reached decibels you could not imagine were possible. Everyone in the crowd was in uproar. Everyone but you. You thought you would faint. Denial now had absolutely no place in your mind. No excuse could cover the gesture Taehyung made to you. The teasing gesture that had your legs give in to your weight.

The rest of the concert was stellar. Throughout the entire time, you were either laughing, crying, or screaming. You knew the band would never disappoint, but you did not prepare for the extent of talent and hard work each member contributed. Be it Jimin’s vocals, J-Hope’s dancing, or Jimin’s long blonde hair (omg). After what felt like too short of a time, your eyes followed the shooting light into the sky. Fireworks. You felt the wave of despair crash over the entire stadium as you all understood the unspoken rule. When the fireworks go, so does BTS. Naturally, you fell for the trick. You were mesmerised by the lit sky, each pop producing a new variation of supernova. You cast your gaze down to the people around you, the light tracing gentle shadows across their faces, the light of the sky giving each person a hopeful glitter in their eyes. With a lot of fear and reluctance, you dragged your gaze towards the stage. As expected, the members had left. You cried with the people around you, unable to fathom how lucky you had gotten to share this moment with everyone around you. You had almost forgotten the one key factor that set you apart from everyone else. You had almost forgotten that you slept in Kim Taehyung’s bed.

As if he knew you were thinking about him, you felt a vibration from your phone. Scrambling to grab it from your pocket, you looked at the screen. The notification read:

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

Your heart dropped, you were really going to faint this time. You held onto the barricade for support as people began to file away behind you. Why has he reached out again? With shaky fingers, you began typing. Be normal.

“It was sufficient”

“I saw you bawling your eyes out when we played 2.0. It’s not even a sad song”

“I had something in my eye”

“It seemed you had something in your eye the whole concert, hope you’re okay”

You chuckled at the text. As you were formulating a response, you heard two consecutive dings from your phone.

“Meet me at Rue de Lorraine street, I’ll pick you up.”

“To return your ribbon… of course”

Chapter 1. They win some, you lose some

You closed your eyes for a heartbeat. The breath you'd been holding pounded against your lungs, demanding an escape. You feared that if you exhaled, you might lose the little composure you had been fighting for. The sea of gray dots looked back at you smugly from the screen. Not one blue dot. Not one open seat for the BTS concert.

All your friends solicitously looked at you, eyes full of sympathy. You had gathered your friends to help you get a ticket, knowing that this sale was going to be war. But you never prepared for the chance that you might not actually get a ticket. Your arms loosened at the soothing rubs on your shoulder and murmurs of condolences. A shuddering breath escaped.

"Guys, it's fine, I told you these fans were insane." A smile tugged at your lips as you leaned your back against the wall. "I'll get 'em next time," you shrugged, feigning indifference. To them, it was believable. To you, you had booked a non-refundable plane ticket to the city BTS was touring in without the actual concert tickets.

The hours faded into days. The days into months. The ticket war debacle was soon forgotten. Denial and avoidance washed over your sorrow, smoothing the sharp edges of your dejection like waves to seaglass. Soon, the memory reduced itself into a numb figment of your past. Every video of the band you came across, you avoided; every fan space you followed was put on mute. You could not bear the reminder of what you had lost. The only things that remained were their songs, for their art was ineluctable. It was their music you played whilst you sat on the plane, your ears aching slightly as you pushed the earphones in deeper. The sky darkened, the blue atmosphere stained by orange dashes along the horizon. The plane descended in unison with the sun. It wasn't long before the air of the cool, brisk night fanned your face as you set foot down the plane steps. I didn't get tickets, so what? I still get to explore Paris, the beautiful city of love; you thought to yourself.

​

☆ ☆ ☆

​

Your body sank into the cushion of the hotel bed. Makeup products spread all across the bedding. Music from your phone played in the background as you lined your lips with a deep brown. There was no time to spare on this vacation; the second you arrived at the accommodation was the second you began to prepare for the club. Bright silver jewelry adorned your body, every movement catching the light and glittering in your peripheral vision. Your head lightly spun, cheeks gradually flushing the more alcohol you consumed. After finishing the final touches on your makeup, you braced yourself against the yellow peeling wall and guided yourself out of the room.

​

☆ ☆ ☆

​

You thanked the cab driver curtly as you stepped onto the cobbled pavement. The bass from the music around all the clubs thumped like the beats of a heart around you. Your own pulse is intertwined with the city's soul. The faint warm glow of the street lamps lit your way as you weaved through the moving bodies along the road. Finally, you arrived at the queue. It was a promising entrance, the windows exhibiting dancing, laughing silhouettes. You swayed from foot to foot, waiting for the endless line to subside. Before you knew it, you were looking into the eyes of the bouncer as he confirmed your identity. You rewarded him with a meek "merci" as you were handed your ID back. The effect of the alcohol quickly dissipated from your body as you walked into the building. Seeing no familiar faces, you were hit with the harsh reality that you were alone. Alone in a place completely foreign to you. You did not know the language, the people, or the culture. You clutched the side of your purse until your knuckles turned white. You brought a shaky hand to your forehead as you wiped off your sweat. Slowly, one foot was put in front of the other. Quickly, a drink was ordered using the few French words you retained from class in high school.

​

After a few encounters with the same bearded bartender, the tightness in your muscles began to loosen. You let the music carry you to the dance floor. Strangers spun you around, their visage blurred like a motion picture film. You were handed more and more drinks, sustaining your drunken state. You were feeling euphoric, the alcohol coursed through your blood as you let your body move with the music. The feeling did not last long, however. Between the bass and the melody, the sound of a glass breaking sounded throughout the room. Suddenly, the gentle hands of the dancers turned rough as people began pushing into each other. You could not tell what was happening. Were they fighting? Was that blood? Why is everyone so aggressive? The feeling of euphoria warped into a deep-set nausea. Sickening dread crept its way from your core to your throat. I do not like it here. I don't feel safe. I want to sleep in my own bed, in my own home. Hot tears pricked your eyes.

​

You slipped through the crowd of bodies, narrowly missing flying jabs and elbows. Their once beautiful dance turned into grotesque inhuman bodily contortions. You pushed through the hallway, the walls beating you up for just walking. A sob ripped from your throat as you made your way through the dimly lit corridor, the dark street only a few painful steps away. Hands shoved through the door. As the door slammed behind you, the music dulled to a distant, even thud behind the doors. The heavy mix of perfume and sweat faded, the air feeling clearer. Everything was so still, calm, and comfortable. Despite this, your tears continued to cascade down your face. Your shoulders heaved as you placed a hand atop your mouth, stifling your sobs. The weight of it all pulled you down to fold onto the sidewalk. You shakily pull out your phone to order a cab back home. There was absolutely no way this night could get any worse. That was until you clicked the power button. Once, then twice. Nothing but a black mirror stared back at you. Any remaining hope you had for salvaging the night was hastily ripped from you. Bringing your knees to your forehead, you curled into yourself. You didn't know how long you stayed in that position; nauseous and despairing. I wonder what my friends are doing right now, you thought to yourself. Has my cat been fed yet? I should have texted my roommate when I had the battery. Your mind wandered into a jumble of thoughts.

​

Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder. The train of thought crashed into a wall. Cold shivers ran through your body in response to their touch.

​

Excuse me, are you alright?

​

The concern laced in their words contradicted the depth of their voice. Lifting your head, you peeked at their face through your disarranged hair. The man in front of you was squatting, levelling his gaze with yours. He was dressed in all black, trench coat spilling onto the pavement. A dark scarf covered most of his features. Only his eyes were visible above, watching half-hidden beneath his neat dark hair. Those shadowed eyes seemed oddly familiar, but you were not in a state to speculate. After a moment, you remembered he posed you a question. "I- I'm… I just, I don't know why I'm here", you hiccuped. A beat of silence stretched as you saw his eyebrows pinch in concern. You then continued, "I'm not from here, I can't speak French, I don't even want to be here, I came for a concert of my favourite band, I didn't get tickets, my plane is non-refundable, I-" slurred speech spilled from your mouth without end. He listened, gaze never breaking from your eyes. He made no attempt to interrupt as he took in your words. Eventually, your words sputtered and died down. Feeling that silence yet again, a small wave of regret washed over you, heating your cheeks. However, the feeling quickly dissipated as the man nodded in understanding.

​

His voice cut through the silence of the street, "I'm sorry to hear that, but it's not safe for you to be sitting out here. Do you want me to order you a ride to your place?" The words he spoke were calm, yet firm. There was nothing to lose; it would be safer to accept the ride than sit out here the entire night.

"P-please," you choke out. He then asked for the address of your hotel, and you pulled out your phone to look it up. Again, all that you saw was your reflection. "My phone.. It's dead," you murmured quietly. "... and I forgot the name of my hotel," you murmured, even more quietly. You could not bear to look at the man out of embarrassment. Just before you could thank him for his concern and wave off his kindness, you heard a sudden movement. He pushed off his knees to tower over you. The dark silhouette offered an outstretched hand. Reluctantly, you took it. With ease, you were lifted onto your feet, staggering on your way up.

​

"I can take you to one of my houses," he said, gentler now. "It is empty, and no one will bother you. I know it's inconvenient, but I cannot just leave you here alone." You blinked, mind attempting to weigh out the dangers. However, your mind was of little to no use right now. Again, you nodded. He lead you, a steady hand placed on your back. You walked a few streets down until you reach a black car situated along the road. “This is my driver,” he states.

Driver? Who is this guy? And how can he afford multiple houses in Paris, in this economy?? You pondered. Walking around to the passenger seat, he opened your door as you sat down into the clean car. He exchanged some words with the driver in a language you could not distinguish. Moments later, his gaze shifted to you. Your breath hitches in your throat as his attention is fixed onto you.

“Here’s my phone number, let me know if you come across trouble”, he said as he passed you a card. He then leaned his forearm against the door, causing you to lean back from the intimacy of it all. “Also,” he trailed. “Who was the band that you couldn’t get tickets for?”

What an odd question. Why does he care? “It’s a South Korean band, they’re called BTS,” you state. A soft chuckle escapes his throat as he nods.

“Alright, get her home safe okay?” he directs, redirecting his attention to the driver.

The ride was painful. Your stomach was in your mouth with each turn that the car took. You were grateful for the silence between you and the driver as you did not believe you could muster up another word. After what felt like an eternity, the car came to a smooth halt. As you stood up, you felt the ribbon in your hair become undone. Not having the energy to pick it up, you left it and trudged behind the driver into the towering building.