Bangtan Universe • BTS oneshots

5. Snowglobe • dancer vmin

The stage is engulfed in darkness, saved for the one column of light shining onto the wooden chair at the center.

The patrons scattered about the bar murur, the sounds lingering and overlapping, as anticipate cumulates, palpable in the stilled air.

Taehyung's long fingers caress the glass tumbler in hand, nails tapping onto the surface impatiently.

Clink. Clink.

The ember liquid within sloshes around, releasing its intoxicating fragrance. The ice cubes hiss and crackle faintly under the heat of his palm.

"Been fifteen minutes already. Seem like quite the build up, just for a new dancer." Taehyung observes, and clicks his tongue in disdain. Beside him, Namjoon hums but stays silent.

Then he sees him.

Black silk blouse loosely draping over his toned torso, with simple black pants to match. Hands flipping through silvery grey hair carelessly, tousling it, dark eyes scanning and surveying the crowd. The whispers in the crowd grow louder, restless.

The figure takes a seat in the chair, and all the lights in the club dim. The music starts, ceasing the incessant murmurs, like waves that recede into the background.

Taehyung finds his eyes trained onto the dancer, taking in his every move.

It's not just his looks. He's beautiful, undeniably so - all doll-like eyes and puckered lips, mixed with sinuous muscles and masculine curves. A dangerously alluring blend. But what enthralls Taehyung, draws him in like all the other patrons who gape with bated breath, is the way he moves.

Head tilted up slightly, chest lifted and back straight, the dancer carries himself with such innate grace, as his body snaps and responds to each beat of the song. And Taehyung can't help but applause the song selection. Club Omelas is a popular place, its stage frequented by boisterous jazz bands on the weekends. But on the quieter weekday nights such as tonight, the bar attempts to draw in the crowd with more risque acts, burlesque dancers in skimpy outfits, flaunting their youth to suggestive tunes.

Not this one though. The song is simple, instrumental with a basic beat and a jazzy flair. The outfit is plain, his collarbones barely peeking through the shirt opening. And the dance moves almost feel classical, each position of his feet and body achieved with perfect control. Slowly, the world around them fizzles away, and Taehyung finds himself suspended in the moment, thoughts ebbing and flowing with each jete and pirouette. He only snaps out of the trance when the music stops, and the momentary silence is punctured by enthusiastic applauses and chatter.

A thought flashes through his mind, loud and definitive - this dancer, this ethereal thing of beauty, will be his and his alone.

Taehyung is no stranger to collecting pretty trophies in life. His heart thrums excitedly at the prospect of a new pursuit. The crowning jewel of his collection, Taehyung drags on his lip between his teeth, and delights in the idea.

I bet he'll look stunning, all wrecked and pleading in bed.

He strikes up a conversation with the waitress.

"Oh, that's Jimin. The new guy. Pretty face, too bad he never talks." she pouts her lips teasingly, as Taehyung throws her a half-hearted wink, "probably thinks he's better than the rest of us. New kids, always the same."

Taehyung chews over the words. A challenge, he finds his interest piquing even more.

Over the next few weeks, Taehyung tries out all the usual tricks. He fills Jimin's dressing room with a profusion of flowers - roses, lilies, orchids, flowers of every type and color, the sacherine fragrance spilling into the hallway behind the stage. The waitresses tell him later, that it all gets tossed out into the garbage bin, right when Jimin gets to the room.