❝𝗕𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗧. ── 𝗝.𝗛𝗦

003

◥◣◥◣◥◣◥◣◥◣◥◣◥◣◥◣◥◣

🏁 003: 𝘾𝘼𝙉𝙏 𝙏𝙍𝙐𝙎𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙔𝙊𝙉𝙀🏁

MAY 18, 2006
1:12 AM
TOKYO, JAPAN

◥◣◥◣◥◣◥◣◥◣◥◣◥◣◥◣◥◣

NAOMI REMEMBERED THE WAY SHE dreamt of being in a position like this. She remembered seeing Hoseok talk up pretty girls (and sometimes guys) with a smile so charming she'd go weak in the knees without ever hearing what he said. By the end of the night, that person he was so eloquently speaking to would be right where she was, leaving with Hoseok to do things young Naomi could only imagine.

Now she was here, sitting on the expensive, leather seats she dreamed of resting her ass upon and all the could feel was hatred, discomfort knowing that this car had seen Yoongi's last moments. Yoongi's car had hit the back of Hoseok's but had gotten off with a fucked up bumper and a smashed hood. Hoseok repaired it in no time, brand-spanking-new, while Yoongi's car was left in a smashed-in, mangled ball of metal and car parts at the bottom of a ditch.

Naomi sat with one leg crossed over the other, hands folded neatly on top of her exposed, honey-toned thighs. She watches the world fly by as they turn down unfamiliar streets to her. She admires Tokyo nightlife. The whole city was lit up with bright, luminescent lights, so bright that they replaced the stars in the sky. The buildings glowed with a hypnotizing yellow and blended into a beautiful mix of black and sepia. They were in a mesmerizing assortment of colors, clubs, advertisements, and giant signs; all illuminating her face in shades of ocherous as she gazed out the window.

"How long have you been in Tokyo for?" Hoseok's voice permeates the air like the smoke from his cigarettes. He leaves the windows rolled down, lets the wind circulate through the car. It tosses his hair across his face, caressing his flawless skin with strands of black and silver. For a moment, Naomi didn't question why her younger self found herself obsessed with him. At the time, she only knew him on the surface level. She obsessed over the idea of who he may be. She liked the way the shell of him looked.

He was a car with a fresh coat of paint but rusting under the hood.

Naomi casually gazes at her nails. "Just got here today actually." She glances over at his form, leaned back, and relaxed against his chair with a hand tossed lazily on the wheel and the other resting on the center console. His face is momentarily lit with various colors. Yellow, dark, red, dark, blue. And in those small spaces between colors where his face is left in the shadows, Naomi can see him for what he truly is.

A soulless murderer.

"You just got here and your first thought was to come find little ol' me?" His tongue flicked against his lips as they do when they get a little too dry for his liking. It was habitual, a ritual he's done for years without so much as a single thought from him. He'd do that when he spoke to her, called her "kid" to really drive home how he saw her, but she'd see him lick his lips and think she'd have a chance, not realizing how concerning that would be if he ever showed interest in someone her age.