Peaches & Cigarettes, Mangoes & Wine ||| KTH X READER

|| SESSION 8 : DANCE OF THE DEATH PT. 2 ||

PARK JIMIN'S POV:

What happens,
When the devil is being summoned again?
The assumed dead one,
The once, well and alive Angel?

~

Softness of the dark red futon I enjoyed touching with my palms, as I sat there, finally, catching a breather, at dawn of the next day, after working all night serving a multitude of guests with all kinds of liquor they've never tasted before.
That prodigy of a bartender I was.

A sigh of relief I let out, closing my eyes to enjoy these few seconds of silence- only The utensils machine brimming as background noise.
Though without avail, the moment didn't last long,
it never would.

There, a loud yell from the back of the kitchen, the main chef of this Bar supervising for delicacies, ordering me to clean front and back yard.
"Can't I get a break? Sheesh..."

Of course I couldn't.
Of course I couldn't, and instead of being allowed to get a sip of alcohol the least, I had to bear everyone's and my owns sober or in-sober thoughts.

Broom in hand, the rusty backyard was my first destination. Though it was cleaned weekly, it still deemed like no one had ever touched it in centuries. I blamed the stray kids playing around at day time whenever they could.
The silent wind had to be filled with Melodies by Frank Kinatra, whilst the broom took care of several dust, empty plastic bottles and cigarettes.
My singing voice hadn't beared the light of day in a while, as to why the high tones resembled the ones more of a screaming crow.

Though The Peak of thus song made me reminisce and remember of a certain old friend,
A special old friend.

One wearing a boxy smile that availed whenever the blues played, as he would sing and jam along. His right foot always leaving and returning the surface with taps. Which was funny because he was actually left handed. Thus left hand though, it did whatever it pleased. Either it would be mimicking the play of a saxophone, or moving to the tune.

One bump against my back it took for the thoughts to be thrown out, and for my consciousness to fall back in place.
The broom on the other hand, landed harshly on the ground, amongst its dirt.

It seemed as if the same kids had just ran in here to cause some trouble. I didn't pay attention to them first, as picking up the broom was a priority.
Work (he) was.

"These damn.."
Blonde hair of mine slumped down and covered my face when crouching down.
I only looked back up the moment a sudden whine and struggle was heard from the children coming from the opposite direction, one at that time, for an unknown reason.

"Leave us alone sir, we promise we won't do bad again!!"

Silence availed, before someone loudly cleared their throat.
"Apologize to our bar tender the least, will you?"

The honey combed deep voice that would usually sing to Franz Kinatra's muse, clang.

It was him, the old friend, standing wide and proud as he held one of the young boys by the collar.

The green suit deemed to be the same old one, only groomed quite worse. His chocolate brown curls were replaced by an ash blonde color, slicked back to the side.

My doubts raised in the matter of milliseconds,
Could it be that friend?
Could it really be Kim Taehyung?
But he was dead, a dead man he was, wasn't he?
Had the past three years of my life been a complete lie, I wondered.

Legs trembling, I got up to my feet, staring in awe.

"Oh my fucking god."

By then, the children had already found their chance to escape, and did so, jumping over the fence, probably cursing at that.