Jungkook starts talking about Freya.
"She's really smart, Tae." he tells Taehyung one night after dinner. "I mean, I thought I was smart, but fuck, she's a genius." Jungkook suddenly looks at him, uneasy. "Sorry if you don't want to hear about her. I'll stop now."
"No, it's okay. Tell me more." he replies, offering a smile . Maybe he can't see her in person, but hearing Jungkook talk of her helps fill the gaping Freya-shaped hole in his chest.
"Well, she sat down next to me the other day. And so I told her my name, and she told me hers. And I asked her a question about this concept I didn't understand, and when she was done talking, I felt like I could write a fifty page essay on it." Jungkook tells him, "She transferred from New York. Columbia, I think. Why the hell would someone come to UCLA if they got into Columbia?"
Taehyung. She would come for Taehyung.
"Maybe you should ask her." Taehyung replies, feigning nonchalance.
"Crazy, right? I'm not one to judge, though. Columbia probably didn't suit her, so she moved, to sunny 'ole California where everyone is happy all the fucking time."
Except happiness is nothing but a mere cloak for sorrow and hurt. Media builds Los Angeles up to be paradise, but take one look at the homeless on the streets or the string of crimes that take place at night and it's obvious that the City of Angels is anything but angelic.
"Does she still look like the pictures?" Taehyung dares to ask.
"Yeah, pretty much. Hair's shorter, and fashion sense changed, but everything else is the same. Did you live in New York too, then?"
"Something like that." he says, and doesn't go into detail. "Jungkook?"
"Yeah?"
"Take care of her, okay?"
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