KALOPSIA ✓

20. you're gonna hear from me

20. you're gonna hear from me
"I may be unknown but wait till I've flown. You're gonna hear from me."

//

the man wipes away his tears.

he walks down the dark streets of New York, unintentionally making himself known as his leather covered, heeled shoes hit against each stone of pavement. his chestnut eyes stare ahead, no longer filling up with tears that lack reasoning.

he shakes out his shoulders, small but masculine hands pushed into the pockets of his tailored trousers. today he wears a simple, blazer jacket paired with a pair of black trousers. his fine hat remains on his head, covering his hair that he believe isn't doing it's best today.

emotional turmoil covers his eyes like a cloak. his eyes eventually turn to the side, no longer looking ahead or glancing at every bustling club he passes. on most nights, he's in those clubs and shows, singing his heart away. but tonight is a night for himself. not that singing to his people aren't for himself... tonight is more for individual silence. he's heading back to his apartment but his attention is quickly swept away to a bunch of shadowed strangers in the dark alleyway.

not strangers, he realises, stopping in his tracks as he stands at the entrance of the alleyway.

staying completely calm and still in posture and mind, he observes the gang activity. the emotional turmoil fades. mafia members huddle together, casual discussion in process as a man hands out perfectly rolled up cigarettes.

Taehyung walks into the alleyway, nodding at the men he's known to associate with but only to a certain extent. they come in handy when he needs them.

he likes how he's offered a joint without having to ask for one.

thoughtless thirty minutes pass in cigarette smoke and chatter before Taehyung exits the alleyway. he makes his way to finally meet Yoongi who'll be late anyway. unbuttoning the first few buttons of his pearly shirt, he enters the busy, colourful hotel bar and finds his best friend already delved into a drink that definitely isn't his first.

"hey." Taehyung greets calmly, sliding onto the silver bar stool as he ignores the dazed looks at him. he briefly smiles, not specifically at anyone. the forceful smile remains as he orders himself a strong glass of whiskey. how many cups must he down each day to realise it isn't what he needs? that there are better things to find distraction and solace in.

"you're late."

"when did you get here?"

"five minutes ago."

"exactly." Taehyung stands, downing his drink. he's already high and now slightly drunk. however, it goes unnoticed by his friend– he's usually like this, both of them actually. "i'll be back. i need to make a quick phone call." he mentions, walking away without waiting for Yoongi to answer. he however, catches his blank expression and his voice that orders one more drink.

sniffling his nose, humming a tune that isn't his, suited Taehyung makes his way to the cream, cord wired phone on the newly painted wall. he dials the number, leaning his forehead against the wall as he waits for it to ring. a headache. as he waits, he catches sight of the hotel sign that says 'no blacks allowed' and he looks away.

"Oliver, hey— how are you doing my friend?" and five, quick minutes later, he's back in his seat beside Yoongi.

//

fists clench on either side of Taehyung as he exits the hotel just to be bombarded with flashy photographers and rowdy reporters. he wants to act without thinking– it's what his mother taught him as his father sat back and did nothing.