Pose For Me | K.TH

31

AILA

I sigh.

Groceries.

Seriously?

Back at the house I'd thought it wasn't a bad excuse. But now that I'm here, walking aimlessly down the pathway, I realize how stupid he'd think that I was when he saw the note.

First, I had zero money with me. And he knew.

Second, Taehyung's home was miles away from the actual city. Which meant that I'd realistically have to walk more than five miles down before I saw a single store. He knew this as well.

I sigh again.

But it was also way too early to go back.

So all I can do is to continue my aimless walking, kicking at the small pebbles scattered next to the road. I'd just walk around for about ten minutes, and then trace my way back up to the house.

Not a problem.

He'd probably laugh at me once I got back for trying something so stupid, but still. Making him laugh once he saw me would mean that my plan succeeded.

Slowly, I start the counting in my head.

_______________________________

TAEHYUNG

"Aila."

My voice is thick from sleep as I come out to the living room. But she isn't there either. The house is completely silent as well.

I run my fingers through my hair, not caring that I was making more of a mess out of it with each passing second.

"Aila!"

Still no answer.

I'm completely awake now. And one by one, I check everywhere in the house that she could possibly be— her room, my studio, the bathroom.

She's gone.

Then I see it.

"Merde." I whisper when I see that one of my coats are missing from the hanger. My eyes instantly flicker towards the doorway, and the tightness in my chest turns a hundred times worse when I realize that her shoes are missing as well.

"...Aila?"

She'd left the house. At a time this early?

Why?

Or had she left during the night? I didn't— I hadn't heard anything. If I...If I went after her right now, would I be too late?

My hand catches heavily against the cold stone of the island table. I'm struggling to remember, if she'd told me anything about this the night before. She wouldn't have gone anywhere without letting me know.

But I come up with nothing.

Then I feel the rustle of paper against my pale fingertips.

I lift my head up.

It's a note. And with cold sweat running down my back and hand trembling, I tear the piece of paper from the edge of the table. My eyes skim across what's written.