STRAWBERRY FIELDS|| BTS

ten

Despite what the letters have told him, he let him in for a second time.
The pink haired boy dragged someone else behind him as he was granted access into their little hiding place on fourth floor, then once they were both in the room slightly pushed him towards the chairs and tables underneath the fabric, a sign telling him to take one of his own; while he himself walked up to Taehyung.

"Listen, I know you probably don't want to create some club here, but let him hide here for today ok?"
The boy asked, white lighter tucked away in his breast pocket along with a cigarette.
Taehyung crossed his arms on his chest, leaning back in his chair, head falling to the side.
"Listen, I'll try not to make it happen again." The pink haired boy sighed.
There was no change in Taehyung.

Jimin watched the boy uncover the furniture and pick up a chair, sliding it towards the table that had been put up by the elder. He seemed somewhat shy, eyes hidden behind an uncut fringe– despite the unnecessarily long hair, it was well kept and brushed down so that not a single hair stuck up. His blazer was somewhat big on him, and he guessed he was a couple years younger than him.
He took a seat without looking at anyone.

"Here" the boy finally said, pushing 4000won into Taehyung's breast pocket. "Now let him stay here, ok."

Taehyung didn't let him stay because he needed money, because in fact he needed the money. He needed some money that wouldn't be waisted on cheap beverages. But Taehyung hadn't even processed the money being pushed into his pocket at that point, he let him stay because he saw some kind of genuine emotion in his eyes, some sort of pleading, begging.
That's why he let him stay, because the boy was important to...

"Wait, before you go, I think it would be honourable to do some introductions don't you think?"
The pink haired boy halted by the door, hand resting on the handle as he looked at everyone around the room.
He knew everyone already: Jimin was the kid with weak lungs and a long history of schools, Taehyung was the kid with paper wrapped sandwiches and a uniform that smelled of alcohol.
"So? Aren't you gonna at least tell me what to call you?"
The boy new to the room played with his hands before standing up.
"I'm...my name is Jungkook" he introduced himself quietly, then sat back down closing in on himself as he stared at something on the floor.
"Yoongi" he nodded, and left.

That's why he let him stay, because Jungkook was important to Yoongi.

Taehyung always watched him leave from the second floor classroom; where he attended the art club every Tuesday and Friday after school.
Jimin has never noticed him watching before, because they always parted ways in the hallway. But today he waved.

He wasn't particularly great at art, his anatomy was limping on one leg, he didn't follow the laws of graphic art either- his work mainly consisted of bright acrylic paints that he covered the A3 pieces of paper in, and then waited extra time after school for them to dry, before rolling the paper up and taking it to his fourth floor hide out. He never took his paintings home, and neither has anyone apart from himself seen the mix of colours and the plastic finish of the paint when it dried. He had no plans to show to anyone either, and the club teacher has long given up on trying to moving him towards the front so he could pay more attention to the subject.

Today he picked up a range of yellows whites and pinks, that he would mix to make himself a palette of pale sunshine on dull days— when it seemed like it was going to rain but the skies never began to cry, and soft candy floss pink— like the one which his mother always bought him at the carnivals that used to arrive into the city.

Either the carnivals stopped arriving, or he stopped noticing the advert posters.

Taehyung always watched him leave from the second floor classroom, Jimin was always met with a boy in green uniform, and from what he could see they seemed pretty close, but Taehyung knew better than to trust appearances, he knew more than anyone just how much you can hide under appearances.

He laid the paint on in wide, thick horizontal strokes, the pinks and yellows overlapping each other blurring into each other like fairy lights , the added dark blues and mint greens around the edges added some unknown depth to his own carnival, a carnival who's horizon never seemed to end.

He waved today because the boy from the unknown school leaned in to Jimin's ear and pointed something out to him, the taller boy did not make eye contact with Taehyung, but he knew he was there watching Jimin leave everyday.
Jimin spun around on the tips of his feet, eyes quickly locating the second floor window and raising a hand in a small wave towards Taehyung.
Taehyung didn't have extraordinary eyesight, but he did see Jimin's rose petal smile, drowned out in the yellow hues of the slowly setting sun.

And when he was almost done, fingertips coated in paint, he added a figure in the center of it all, nothing detailed, a geometric silhouette of black paint, but he knew who it was.

He knew it was Jimin in the center of his carnival.