Painting Blank (BTS Jeon Jungkook)

1: A Dented Bike

"Ah shit," I curse, picking myself up from the asphalt. My left forearm is skinned, and my bike is damaged beyond repair. 

Its crinkled under the tire of a fancy black car, the turquoise paint chipping off of every bent piece of metal.

And I have that stupid interview in an hour, at that.

With my hair disheveled and my day ruined, I look at what rammed into me: a black BMW, with someone stepping out of the backseat.

"Oh my God!" The man from the car runs in my direction, and my heart flutters when I realize how gorgeous he is. 

His suit is crease free and his dark hair is styled up without a strand of it falling out of place. Pair his onyx eyes with his flawless skin, and the man looks like he just popped out of a Versace commercial. He's stunning.  

"Are you okay?" He asks as he reaches the front of the car, eyes connecting with mine and making my heart turn a somersault. I take the time to try to straighten myself up, brushing down my wrinkled shirt and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I'm okay-"

"I was so worried about you! You're not scratched, are you?" My voice halts in my throat when he turns on his heel, ignoring me completely so he can rub the hood of the car. 

I sit on the asphalt with my mouth gaped open, my hand frozen in shock but still in my hair where I was putting it behind my ear. My body is anchored, unable to move due to trying to process this jerk in front of me.

He wasn't asking about me, but he asked about the car?

"This old thing scratched you, didn't it?" He baby talks his car, taking a chance to glare at my flattened bike before his foot kicks a piece of it out into the road farther.

My eyebrow twitches at the sight, and I'm hoping the scowl I send his way is hot enough to burn a hole in the back of his skull. 

I stand from the gritty pavement, converse crunching on the loose gravel and alerting him to my presence. 

His eyes flash to me before he finally switches his focus away from the car. His hands go into his suit pockets, and he raises an eyebrow as he eyes me suspiciously.

"Can I help you?" He asks, and I have to stop myself from either laughing or strangling him. I cross my arms, huffing at him with incredulity.

"Yeah, I think you can help me." I answer in a dry laugh, taking a step closer to him. My finger juts out towards my bike under his tire. "That's my bike."

He looks towards it and back to me. "What about it? I'll have you know it nearly scratched my car."

I grit my teeth, hoping for his sake that he was joking. 

Now, I've never been a violent person, but seeing his arrogant and aloof attitude so early in the morning is almost enough to send me over the edge. 

"That bike," I answer through clenched teeth, trying to keep my composure. I glance at it a final time before I cut my eyes up to the nuisance in front of me. "I was on it when you hit me!"

"Ah," He nods in understanding, crossing his arms and leaning in to examine me. "I guess that explains why you look so... disheveled."

"Excuse me?" I gawk at him, not believing what he's saying.

The closer he leans in, the more I find my burst of confidence wavering. I try to stay focused and not think about the fact that he smells amazing, or the fact that his facial features compare to that of a Greek god.