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Jimin POV
He raced down the hallways and skidded to a stop at the two sealed doors. Taking out the security card, Jimin swiped it against the reader and stepped back as the doors slowly slid open, hissing softly. Standing on the top deck he could see the atrium of the research centre, a mess of computers and wires and diagrams and data.
His father, alongside two other researchers were huddled over a particular screen. Tiptoeing past, he made it to the other side and punched in the code into the key pad. Wincing as the door creaked slightly as it opened, he slipped past and closed it behind him.
The narrow corridor he was in now was dark and dimly lit. Only emergency lights dotted the walls every couple of yards, casting a sickly red glow on Jimin's skin.
He hated coming down here, where the pipes whistled and mimics the sound of ghosts. His footsteps echoed horribly against the floor as he reached his destination. The seemingly abandoned control room.
Jimin jiggled the door handle until it jolted open. Stepping inside he looks around at the once alien control panel. He sat in he worn leather seat and pulled the jacket over him. It was there when he found the room all those years ago, packed away along with notes on how to use the device.
It was a dark brown leather with a fluffy cream collar; well it had been cream. It was now a mottled yellow colour but Jimin loved it's musty and old smell. Inside the pocket had been a picture of a small boy with a number written on the back. Jimin had no idea why this ghost jacket was in the station. He couldn't ask without the others finding his special place.
He opened up the device, pressing buttons and turning knobs until the small screen lit up with a pulsing cursor. It was always black and waiting for a number to be inputted.
Jimin had memorised Jungkook's number by now. He'd spent years pondering on who the young boy was, why his photo was in he jacket of a man who probably died years ago.
Jimin bit his lip and paused. Jungkook lived in Busan, a coastal city in South Korea. He'd asked his mother about Busan, saying he'd heard one of the researchers mention it. She'd told him that when they lived on Earth she'd take him to the beach. That he was too small to go into the ocean but that he'd sit and play in the sand, smiling as brightly as the Sun they had been under.
Jimin wanted to remember that, to remember how the sun must've felt on his skin. Instead he's stuck with filtered air and stars. The same stars Jungkook looked at every night.
The thought sent shivers down him, maybe Jungkook looked at the moon and at the slight black stain on its surface; the research centre. He wondered if Jungkook learned about the centre and the work of the famous Park Seongwon and his wife Park Yoojung.
Jimin had a secret, hidden away in the catacombs of the centre. Hidden from the researchers, from the security cameras, the probes. Unknown to his parents.
Jimin may never remember what Earth was like but his heart was slowly falling for the boy who lived under the blue sky.
