Who are you? • pjm

THREE

"Hey there- neighbour" My head swivels and my mouth drops at the sight of the man infront of me. Jimin stands with his hands on his bare hips and a smile spread across his lips.

Not this again.

My mouth drops and I grab my letters, "He- Hi" I quickly look away from him and outside at the rain pouring from the heavenS. Lord save me now.

"Fancy seeing you here" he crosses his arms, his muscles flexing and grabbing my attention almost automatically. What does he mean here? It's post day and it's my apartment.

"I was just coming to get my p-post" I stutter, my arms wrapping round the letters in my arms. He chuckles and nods slowly, a belated sigh escaping from his lips.

"I mean- it's a massive coincidence we both came down at the same time" he chuckles disconcertingly and my eyebrows furrow.

"Are you trying to say I'm stalking you sir?" I raise an eyebrow and he explodes into light hearted laughter.

"No- of course not" he snickers, finally composing himself, "I just thought that maybe it was a sign from god or something" he snorts, I roll my eyes.

"Well, Jimin was it?, I must go and study- it was lovely to see you as always" I speak sarcastically and he rolls his eyes back at me.

"You too Y/N- like always you've made my heart flutter" he shouts as I make my way up the stairs. I wait until I'm around the corner before leaning against a wall, my body doubling over and a loud sigh erupting from my mouth.

He's too hot for his own good. I don't understand how someone could be so confident in there half naked body. It's insane.

After a few minutes of exasperation I continue my way up the stairs, his words still ringing in my ears. How have I never noticed him before? Like he's a walking god who lives besides me- it's almost too good to be true.

After making my way back to the flat I flop onto the sofa, my mind still racing at the thought of Park Jimin.

Maybe he's a vampire? That would be one excuse of why I've barely seen him. Forgein? Doubt it, his accent was strong and his face was Korean. Alien? Could be, honestly I'd let him prove me anyway.

Spy? I could imagine him as a spy, running in and out of buildings in a tight suit- gun in hand ready to fight off all the bad guys. That would mean he'd be lying about who he is. It would unfortunately mean that it would be likey he'd have to leave nearly as quickly as I found him.

Which in retrospect took a while so I could be lucky.

Maybe he's married? He could be rich and using that apartment as an escape from his evil wife at home he desperately needs someone to save him from. Maybe I could be this person?

Maybe I need to stop fantasising about the clearly normal ripped guy living besides me- and instead go talk to him.

How though, that's the real question.

I could suddenly go take the trash out and ask if he needed his taking out. No, that's stupid.

I could ask for sugar, or milk.

That could work very well.

I jump off the sofa and head to my bedroom, searching for something cute- but not too cute- to wear to my adventures with Park Jimin.

After 10 minutes of getting dressed I head outside and down the hallway. Before spying outside his door.
Maybe this is too much?

Maybe I'm saying maybe way too much and need to think of another word?

There's a possibility he thinks I'm cute. There's a possibility he things I'm drop dead gross. There's a possibility that this is a bad idea.

The doorbell rings as my fingers go rouge and press the button. My whole body seizes up.

It cracks open, showing his eyes and fluffy hair poking out from behind the wood.
"Hey there stalker" he sings before opening the door properly. Clothed this time, his arms cross as a questionable face shoots across his flawless skin.

"Have you got any milk? I've run out half way through making a tea" I laugh slightly and his eyes squint. He can see straight through the facade.

He takes a deep breath before nodding and turning around and disappearing into his flat. Do I follow?

I go with my instincts and follow.

His apartment strikes me supprised, it's the typical bachelor pad. But with class and flowers.

Dark wood floors line underneath my feet, stretching all the way to the cream walls and black curtains. Paintings line the walls all the way through the visible house. Through the front room to the suspected bedroom, to the kitchen.

"I never said to follow" he says in a low monotonous voice as he reappears with a glass of milk. I smile slightly and bow my head at him.

"Thanks for the milk Park" I stroll out of his flat and pause at the door.
"No problem, it's what neighbours are for" he replies, audibly unimpressed by my intrusive behaviour.

"See you around Milkman"

Smooth Y/N, real smooth.