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"Thank you for seeing me at such a short notice," Mari says as she sits down in the hairdresser's chair.

"I'm not sure how you would survive without me," Jia responds with a smirk painted on her lips. "How can you be a dancer and not be able to put your hair into a bun?"

"I can put it into a messy bun, but those ballerina buns take skills that are above my level of expertise," Mari laughs.

"Oh," the man seated in the chair next to Mari says. "You're a dancer?"

The hairdresser cutting the man's hair clears his throat and then continues to cut his hair.

"I am," she says proudly. "A ballerina, actually. Do you dance at all?"

The man sighs sadly. "I used to."

Jia begins to brush Mari's hair out as Mari and the man engage in idle conversation.

"You still seem in perfect shape. You don't dance anymore?" Mari asks, raising her eyebrow.

The man laughs. "I'm far from being in perfect shape. You need working legs to dance, and that's something I no longer possess."

"Oh," Mari says, eyes widening. "I am so sorry. I had no idea."

"No worries," he says before he puts his hand out for Mari to shake. "I'm Jimin."

"Mari," she says, reaching her hand out to put into his.

The hairdresser doing Jimin's hair flinches slightly when their hands touch, but he clears his throat again and turns his attention back to Jimin's hair.

"Done," Jia says as she sprays Mari's hair with hairspray. "That bun isn't going to move an inch while you're up there dancing."

"As always, I'm endlessly grateful," she says, grinning at her friend. "You're going tonight, right?"

"As always," Jia winks as Mari stands.

"It was nice to meet you, Jimin," Mari says, smiling at him.

"Pleasure was all mine," he responds as Mari and Jia walk away towards the front door.

"Jimin," the hairdresser doing his hair murmurs once they're alone. "I know what you're thinking. Please... don't."

"She's perfect," Jimin says in awe as he watches Mari walk away. He gestures towards Jia's comb that still has a few of Mari's hairs entangled in the teeth. "Hand it to me."

"Jimin, I'm not helping you with this. It's sick," he says, shaking his head.

"Please don't make me ask again," he says in a low tone.

With shaky hands, the hairdresser reaches over and grabs the comb, handing it to Jimin. He takes the hairs and gently places them into a locket that he had taken off from around his neck a moment ago.

"She'll be the perfect puppet. I can feel it."

Marionette | BTS ✓Where stories live. Discover now