Seoul Searching

It's hurried.

The pencil staining the back of his hand is smudging all over the metal of his computer. His wrists burn almost as much as his fingertips. His glasses sit tight and slanted on his cold nose. Jimin is furiously tapping away at the keys of his computer, trying to get every last thought out before it's gone forever.

"Small nose," he murmurs.

"Slanted eyes, black hair, small smile, grimace," His eyes scan over the words quickly, "rough voice, big hands, pale, moody, nice."

He sits back for a moment, before clawing over and typing one last word, "Gentle."

Crossing his arms, he squints at the dimmed screen, unspoken words moving in between his lips, pronouncing every detail about the character he's currently developing. A heartbroken pianist. A man desiring for a life of simplicity, a man of gentle and small gestures. Once a boy with quiet dreams, now grown with a hunch in his back and a hole in his chest.

Jimin thinks the man is missing something. He's lost something dear to himself, but it wasn't a person.

"No," Jimin whispers, touching his chest with his palm, feeling his heart rumble, "a feeling."

Jimin opens his eyes and frowns, "He lost inspiration..."

The man is broken, unable to create a melody and it tears him to shreds. Yes. That's it, good problem, hard to solve, it will be a good story.

If Jimin could only write it.

Lately, he's been coming up with grand theories, intricate plotlines, and vivid characters, yet he can't piece them together. Stress is a very weak word for the current predicament Jimin has found himself in.

It's late and Jimin is beyond the point of redemption for today's work. He's been sitting

in this same seat for hours, drafting up the same character, Jimin can almost picture him perfectly in his mind now, the way his voice would sound, the way his hands would feel.

If Jimin closes his eyes he can see him, he hasn't come up with a name yet, but he thinks he could if he had time to put more thought into it. In times of lost melodies and unwritten stories, Jimin likes to convince himself that he can find what he's looking for through the life of the city.

Seoul speaks to him in a way nothing else can. No book can capture his eyes like the lights of Seoul can, no song can whisper unspoken secrets like the murmur of Seoul's nightlife does, nothing gives him more inspiration than Seoul itself.

So without much thought, Jimin hurries out the door to discover Seoul's secrets.

The concrete is slick under his leather shoes, dewy cars rush past in flurries, bar and club lights dance around the bass pumping in the ground. Jimin has a feeling that his answers won't lie in an energetic atmosphere today. He ponders over his options, cafes and libraries are closed, dance clubs are not fitting his criteria, and sports bars are far too dirty for his liking.

He worries his bottom lip over where he could possibly go, walking slow and without direction. Within the following minutes he's wandered into a rather unfamiliar area, he rarely ventures over here, his work is on the other side of town, and this area is for more sophisticated, wealthy residents of Seoul. Jimin passes a row of nice and proper looking apartments, he looks up and admires the size of the balconies and the life that rests inside of them. He waves up to one group of people, champagne glasses in hand as they smile back down, tilting their drinks off to him in gesture.