He's Not From Here (BTS Taehyung X Reader)

Someone on the Run?

"Why are you calling me at this hour?" You yawn, sleepily glaring at your clock that read 5:30 A.M.

Silence.

"Hey, Taehyung, what's up? You're starting to scare me," you say, sitting upright in your bed and turning on the lamp next to it.

Nothing.

You decide to wait a few minutes, maybe it's something he can't talk about right now? Maybe he's having a hard time speaking? Could he be sick?

"Are you okay?" You ask carefully, as if you were stepping on glass.

"Boo." You roll your eyes as Taehyung starts to laugh on the other end of the phone call.

"I no scare you, I just kid," he chuckles.

"That wasn't really funny," you say, a faint smile on your lips. "What if I thought you were hurt and called the police?"

"Hmmm," he ponders, "that no good."

"No good indeed," you agree. "And also, it's that would be no good."

"That w-would be n-no good?" His tone was uncertain and quietly timid.

"Good," you smile. "But why did you call me at this hour?"

"Ah, yes, well," he states nervously, "bathroom not well. Water rising."

"Oh my god, did you plug up the toilet?" You face palm, wondering what on earth what he was trying to flush down if there's a problem with his plumbing.

"Ah, I no know," he states unsurely.

"I don't know," you correct. "What's your address? I'll be down there in 30 minutes."

"A-address?" He sounds as if he's never heard of it before.

And he probably hasn't.

This is was going to be a long morning.
*********************
One hour and half later, you're standing in front of the condominium Taehyung lived in, just about 2 blocks east and 4 blocks south of your own residence.

It took you ten minutes to get ready, plus an additional half an hour to figure where the heck you were going in the first place. Taehyung was not exactly good with directions nor did he know the names of streets and places.

With the help of a neighbor, who was compliant enough to tell you the address as well as how to get into the apartment, you were finally here.

It's been a good week and a half since the last time you saw Taehyung in person, where the two of you parted your ways with each other's phone numbers. But that doesn't exactly mean that he, even for a second, let you forget that he existed.

Although he still isn't very proficient in his English, Taehyung somehow learned how to get a translator on his phone whenever he would text you.

And he would text you quite often too.

Now, sometimes the translator would translate some pretty funky things that didn't exactly made sense but, for the most part, you and Taehyung were able to communicate just fine.

And you grew to know him better as well.

Leaving you to come up with a pretty accurate conclusion as to how he managed to nearly flood his damn apartment space.

"Taehyung Kim," you whisper threateningly, "what on earth did you do?!"

Everything was soaked.

When you entered the building and asked to be told where Taehyung's room was, which was Room 25, you didn't expect it to be this horrendous.

Walking down the hallway and standing in front of his doorway, you noticed one large, wet spot on the carpet. Gritting your teeth so hard that your mouth hurt, you knocked on the door.

But as you had knocked on the door, it opened. Not only did he flipping flood the damn place, he didn't even remember to lock his door.

Thus, that brings you here. Staring at the damp, beize carpet as it slushed under feet, you put your hands on your hips expecting an explanation.

"Well.." Taehyung trailed off, scratching the back of his head nervously.

"Well, what?" You tapped your foot impatiently.

"I try flushing down papers.. many, many papers," he says quietly.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, telling yourself that this isn't something you should be work up over. It's hard to say that sort of mantra over and over again when the water soaking up the carpet threatens to press deeper into your shoe.

How does one may this much of a mess?

"Alright, let's see the damage," you say tiredly. It's currently 6:45 A.M. You have to be in class in the next three hours, and you only slept for five hours the previous night.

It was really going to be a long day.

After another half hour trying to get Taehyung to say why on earth would he try and flush the toilet when it was obviously failing him, you call the plumber, something Taehyung was scared to do. He wasn't used to New York, and he didn't know how to speak to the guy over the telephone.

For someone who shows so much open affection, you'd think he'd be more outgoing.

"Yeah, when would you be able to come down here and fix the plumbing?" You tap your foot impatiently, thinking about the sleep you could be having right now if only Taehyung could just sit tight and not destroy something over the span of a week.

"Miss, what on earth did you do at this hour?" A grumpy, low voice responds on the other end of the phone. Mr. Banks was really a nice gentleman but you suppose that that was when the sun was out and shining, and not at 6 in the morning when all was shrouded in darkness.

"Pardon me, I'm just calling in for my, ah, er— friend, here, who had quite the mishap that we aren't sure where to start," you say defensively.

"Right," Mr. Bank scoffs, "and I'm a pharmacist technician."

"Well, when can you be here?" You scowl into the phone, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"I'll see you at 7:30." And with that, you hear a repetitive pattern of beats, indicating that Mr. Banks has ended the call.

Geez, you think, Mr. Banks sure isn't a morning person.

You find Taehyung sitting on a cushy chair, staring off into the wall.

He looked so lost in his thoughts, his head tilted to the left, resting on his palm with his elbow on his knee.

"Hey, what's up?" You walk over to him and wave a hand in front of his face.

"Ah," he murmured, taking his eyes off the wall to look at you, "nothing, Y/N."

"Are you sure?" You put an elbow on his shoulder.

"What were you trying to flush down anyway? Couldn't you have just thrown it or recycled it instead?" You take your elbow from his shoulder and walk so that you're in front of him. You give him a pointed look.

His puppy dog eyes only go to look down at the floor.

"No," he said softly, "because then they find me."