#admin ren

~*~*~

While you wouldn't necessarily complain about sleeping in the wilds, with the stars above your head and the sound of creatures going about their business, you had to admit having a roof to block out the rain and a comfortable bed to cushion your back was a nice change of pace.

"We don't have enough rooms for everyone in your party, unfortunately," comes the innkeep, flipping through her books. "Hopefully you aren't against rooming up."

"It would be cheaper that way," voices Wyll with a shrug.

Karlach laughs. "I don't care if I have to sleep on the floor. Give me a nice fluffy pillow and I'll sleep like a babe."

You catch the innkeep's eye and smile. "I think that answers your question."

Setting four keys down on the counter, she motions to the stairs to her right. "Well then, breakfast will be ready in the morning if you're interested. Enjoy your night."

As you grab the keys and turn to your companions, you grin as everyone eyes each other up. Shadowheart and Lae'zel would have to have separate rooms lest you wake up to one of them dead. Maybe the druids wouldn't be against wild shaping into cats that could sleep at the ends of the bed to free up space. Astarion--

Is staring at you with mischief in his eyes.

The moment he sees your eyes lock on his, he sidles up next to you. "What was that, darling? You want to share a room with me?" He puts a hand to his heart. "I'm honored, of course I'll agree. You needn't even ask."

Fighting the smile and giving him an eyeroll, you wave the remaining keys and set them back on the counter. "Figure it out, you guys. I'm tired."

"I would be too," you hear Gale mutter, eyes darting between you two with a raised eyebrow.

Slipping an arm over your shoulders, Astarion turns you toward the stairs. "I wouldn't bother trying to add yourselves to our room. We'll be...busy."

You hear Lae'zel scoff while Wyll laughs, "We know."

Letting him lead you up the stairs and to your room, he leaves you at the door while he sets his pack down on the bed. A single bed, large enough for two, yet... Glancing about the room, you spot a small fainting couch and make your way to it.

Rifling through your pack and grabbing up your nightwear and blankets, you start undoing your clothes. "I can take the couch."

His ruffling stops, and you turn to see his shirt half off, a confused look thrown your way. "What?"

"I can take the couch," you repeat, motioning to it for good measure.

Furrowing his brow, he looks between you and the bed. "Are you blind? There's enough room for both of us, darling."

Raising an eyebrow, you study the bed. While there was enough room to stretch out comfortably, and the thought of cuddling up against Astarion all night makes your heart flutter...

"You'd be comfortable with that?"

He gives you an incredulous look, then you watch as it morphs into a confused look once again, then shifts into one of surprise. Tossing his shirt onto the bed, he approaches you slowly and doesn't stop until your chests are mere inches apart.

The emotions you see in his eyes closes your throat.

"My love," he starts softly, quietly, feathering his fingers down your arm before gently wrapping them around yours, "you always continue to surprise me." Bringing your knuckles to his lips, he places a soft kiss upon them. "I wish for nothing more than to wrap my arms around you, feel you pressed up against me, and keep you all to myself."

Feeling your cheeks burn, you squeeze his fingers and give a smile. "How long have you wanted to tell me that?"

He grins with a wink. "I'll leave that to your imagination. Now!" Pulling you forward, he tugs on your shirt. "Get dressed so we can cuddle and be mushy and gooey and make myself want to throw up."

Jimin ran as fast as he can and as quietly as he can.

After years of experience, he’s gotten better at hiding–at being one step ahead of them. By them, he meant the police, the rival gang members, and his father’s guards. It didn’t matter who was chasing him, the fact was that he was being chased to be taken somewhere against his will.

Finally, he reached an alley where he kept one of his spare hoodies. He had hiding spots like the same alley he was in now all over the city, in case of emergencies. It’s easier to lose people who were after you when they are looking for your clothes. Change them and it’ll be faster for you to blend in, as if you didn’t matter to them.

It was a good thing that he was smart, or he wouldn’t have lasted in the business he’s in, let alone be so good at it that the boss wanted to train him to take his position once he gets recalled by the higher ups.

Three years.

It has been three years since Jimin ran away from home and became the monster that he was to himself. It has been three years since his father burnt his studio.

Jimin wanted to be an artist, a painter worthy to be an uncontested legend. When he was younger, he begged his mother to send him to Russia–to the last surviving classical arts academy. That was where he learned to paint realistically, but even he admits it will take him more time to be at the level Michelangelo and da Vinci were in. He concentrated on his art and disregarded the responsibility his father wanted him to take, being a son of a chaebol owner. His father burnt everything he loved because when you had nothing to lose, you had nothing to fear.

His father was right.

After three years, he now smokes, drinks, kills, and deals in drugs. Easy money, just what he needed to survive in the shithole he hides in. It doesn’t mean that when he does it, he sleeps soundly at night. He cannot remember when he last had a good night’s sleep. He wakes up at the slightest of sounds, always ready to be on the run. If not that, his dreams repeat the happenings on that night.

He couldn’t escape them, he could only run.

The members don’t know about his ability. He couldn’t let them turn him into anything viler than he already was. The other branch of the gang involves themselves in art forgery, thus he stays far away from them. They are worse than dogs and idol scout managers; they can sniff talent miles away. In the end, they will mold that talent to exploit it to their benefits.

Jimin keeps quiet. Most of the members are afraid of him anyway–he does not smile and he does not speak unless to give necessary information, and his speed makes them wary of him. He knows he’s not the strongest in size, but he wields his physique powerfully in quick strikes that his opponent cannot foresee–cannot protect themselves from him.

He was so far in his thoughts he didn’t see the small woman, half sprawled in the opening of the alley. She was staring into nothingness. She was holding hard onto her bag. Her lip was bleeding. Thankfully, she was clothed.

When he kneeled to her position, she flinched away from him. She looked at him with wide and frightened eyes. Her lips were full. Her cheekbones were high. Even in the light of the moon, you can see her skin was tanned. She didn’t look like the women you can see in the movies.

“Y/N?” Jimin called her name in a whisper; she almost mistook it for something else. As he continued to stare at her, he realized something. He knew those eyes. He knew those full pink lips. He has agonized shading the shadow that was supposed to have been highlighted in her high cheekbones.

Yet, she didn’t even know.

However, she has changed. She looked more mature than she had before. The sparks in her eyes have dulled. Her long hair has been cut short to reach her shoulders. He couldn’t believe it, that after all those years; she was now lying down in front of him.

She burnt three years ago.

He watched her burn all those years ago.

Now she was bleeding, alone, in a secluded alley, in the middle of the night.

He started reaching for her, but she turned her head away. She was afraid of him. “I won’t hurt you,” Jimin said. He stepped back and removed his jacket. He draped it over her, looked into her eyes, and stood up.

It doesn’t matter. Whatever happened to her was none of his business. Nothing good would come out of his meddling in anyone’s affairs.

“The homme fatale Jimin won’t hurt me? You’re literally fatal and mysterious.” She paused, her voice quieting down as if she was afraid the wind would tell on her, “But you have pretty eyes.”

“How do you know my name?” Jimin asked.

“Well, how do you know my name?” she asked back.

“If you won’t tell, then I won’t tell,” he retorted. “You obviously know who I am, so stay away. Don’t confuse my pity for anything else.”

Suddenly, she pressed her lips onto his. He was completely taken aback. “You know, you talk too much. And they said you were practically mute,” she commented, eyeing him up and down as if she was sizing him up.

“Tsk. What a petty thing to do. You think I’d start stuttering, blushing, and feeling something for you? Wah, that’s a pretty old trick to try on me.” Jimin’s eyes looked like they could freeze the entire world in its coldness. “Well then, this is where we part our ways. Goodbye.” He turned around and started walking away.

“Ha! What? He’s insane! He’s an ass too–but damn, I’m mesmerized,” she murmured, touching her lips as she watched his retreating back turn one with the night.