Pose For Me | K.TH

9

AILA

My finals were in just a few days.

Scribbling a bit more in my notebook, I pack up all the pencils and textbooks I'd scattered all over the library table. It's almost late evening— I'd stayed here for five hours, trying to finish studying for all the topics.

There's only a few people left in the library as I sling my backpack over my shoulder, walking out the door.

The air is cool outside.

And I'm about to head home when I remember what Taehyung had told me yesterday.

He'd told me that he'd finished a design.

I glance up into the darkening skies.

Would he still be there?

But after five minutes of hesitating, I finally turn down the pathway for the studio. It wasn't that far from my apartment anyways— I'd just walk back if it was closed.

I'm honestly doubting that it's open, even when I'm right in front of the door.

But the door opens when I tug on it.

The inside is dark. But the end of the hallway is dimly lit, and that's where he worked on his designs.

Swallowing, I slowly let the door fall back close. It's so quiet that I'm acting quiet myself, making sure that my footsteps aren't so loud and that I'm not breathing too loud either.

I wasn't even a thief, and I was acting like one.

Carefully, I peek inside the doorway.

And at first I think it's empty, when my eyes sweep around the room. But then I notice a small, crumpled pile of ruined fabric on the floor, and a familiar figure sitting slack on a chair right next to it.

Taehyung.

Face brightening, I push open the door and pad inside. He's bent over on the edge of the table, face buried in his hands.

Something feels wrong.

"...Taehyung?"

He lifts his head from his hands. But his face is still turned away from me, and I pause in my steps, head tilting with confusion.

He sighs, sounding like he's composing himself before shifting around.

"Good evening, Miss Aila."

My confusion turns to horror.

His eyes are deadly dark, compared to the bright flush of his cheeks. There's a scar on the corner of his lip, a small cut stretching from his mouth to jaw.

He raises an eyebrow at my stunned silence, eyes narrowing as if he's almost daring me to say something about it.

"You—"

He cuts me off, looking like he'd completely meant to.

"I didn't think you'd come— it's so late." He murmurs, gathering up the pile of fabric and tossing it in the trash. "Do you want to see what I have for you?"