Zero only has one goal, to be human. Escaping from the cell that once contained her, the outside world, which she longed to see for so long, is filled with more darkness than she expected.
She is faced with a world that is determined to label her a...
The world was safer when viewed through the round lens of a camera. At least for Jimin, it was. He could control what to focus on. The glimmering crystals of his chandelier, the people on the streets as he passed by them in his limo and the birds that built their nests high up in the streets as he sat on a bench in the park.
Jimin liked to capture the small, seemingly insignificant moments of life with his trusty camera. He liked to jokingly tell his Butler, Mr Smith, that it was his way of time travelling. He had years worth of footage to skim through. He could time travel to the past any time he wanted.
He liked that when he was behind the camera, who he was didn't matter anymore. He wasn't anybody's son. He was just a mere observer of the world who captured moments to store in his treasure box.
He liked not being the centre of attention for once. Whenever he was holding a camera, he almost felt normal. As normal as one could be when surrounded by a team of bodyguards who practically chased everyone away from the park when Jimin suggested that he wanted some fresh air.
Jimin ran a hand through his freshly dyed pink hair as Mr Smith placed an assortment of cold refreshing drinks on the wooden table in front of him.
'Thank you', he mumbled to the suited man who bowed before standing behind him.
He had decided that from that day he would stop letting his Father's suffocating rules affect him when he wasn't there.
What better way to begin a rebellion than to have a permanent reminder to mark the beginning of his road to freedom? The newly acquired moon phase tattoos on his back still throbbed with pain.
He had always felt connected to the moon. The lone satellite surrounded by the dark sky was always changing phases but that never changed the fact that it was the moon. He felt jealous of it. He was always changing himself, in search of who the real Jimin was.
'Mr Smith, Do you think my pink hair suits me?', he asked as he gave a bright smile to the man standing next to him. He was referring to what the hairdresser had told him after styling his hair.
The older man let a small smile split through his passive facade.
'Young master, I think that blonde dye would have been the better option', he said awkwardly before he stretched his hand to wipe a fallen leaf from the boy's shoulder, ' Nevertheless, Happiness looks good on you', he added.
Mr Smith had practically raised him ever since his mother left him when he was a toddler. He never agreed with the outrageous methods his Father used to raise him to be a mini version of himself. But he was just a mere servant who had no power to help the boy.
He was happy that even after everything he went through, Jimin's light never dimmed. Beneath the rough exterior he placed around himself, he was nothing but a sweet child who wanted to be accepted for who he truly was.
Jimin turned around with a prominent pout on his lips.
'How many times have I told you to just call me Jimin?'He folded his arms in front of his chest.
The older man smiled fondly at his antics.
'Young master-, Jimin, I believe it is time for us to begin heading home'.
He had no choice but to follow his request.
Jimin smiled radiantly and practically latched onto the older man's arm.
'Thank you'.
A/N
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Mr Smith is just like me
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