Yellow.

from his accident • 2016

~ sometime in january, 2016 ~

Adjusting your hair, pulling it back tighter to keep it out of your face, you slap a hand on one of the sheets of photo paper in front of you, furrowing your brows. Giving the men around you a cold glance, you pull your legs up into the folding chair and laugh in distaste, a sound that has half of them writhing in discomfort, afraid they've struck a nerve.

"If... If we can't work something out, we're going to have to move on from the concept," a man with straight dark hair says with caution. Flickering your eyes over to him, you frown.

"Move on from the concept? I'm the best one you've got," you spat, "I mean, are you kidding?" Reaching over your knees you fumble with a couple of the sheets, holding one up for the group around you to see.

"Choi's concept is..." the man directed his attention back and forth from the sheet you held up, to you. As his voice trails off, you shake the photo, rolling your eyes.

"Predictable?" you offer, raising your brows, "Conventional? Ordinary? Done before?"

"Well, I- I- I mean..."

"You- You- You mean, what?" you don't mean to tease, in fact that's the last thing you wanted to do to these men, but this wasn't the first time they turned down your work.

Just because you were a twenty-two year old female sitting in front of them, dressed in your boyfriend's hoodie with your hair twisted into a knot, didn't give them the right to set you aside like they did with most women.

"We've been working with Choi for a long time, he's the best in the business, we can't exactly drop him from the project." Without a change to his expression, the man sits forward, placing his elbows on the table that separated you.

The door to the conference room swings open and slams shut behind whoever walked in, catching the attention of some of the men surrounding you. You remain laser focused, determined to win this time.

"I'm not asking you to drop Choi, I love the dude, but look at my sketches compared to whatever the hell he's scrambled together." Shuffling the papers around, you place two of them side by side so the man can do a comparison, narrowing his eyes as he studies the photographs.

"Hey, Suga," is mumbled from a few of the guys beside and behind you, making you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily. Your heart sinks into your stomach.

The man across from you takes a peek at the commotion, checking Yoongi out, who you haven't seen yet, then finds you haven't moved. You're still attentive, game face on, ready to pounce.

"These are..." the man speaks slowly, gesturing to your photos with a hopeful nod of his head, "Great."

Sighing heavily, groaning audibly, you say, "Great? They're more than great, they're better than Choi wanting them to dance in a ring of fire! Looking like a bunch of satanists..."

"Satanists?" Yoongi says with a chuckle, wrapping his arms around your shoulders that you shrug away in an instant. You still haven't turned to greet him. Pulling back, he narrows his eyes, stepping to the side of your chair.

"Hello, Mr. Min," the man says with a subtle smile.

"Mr. Bang Si-Hyuk," Yoongi says, totally flat, coming across as sarcastic as anything. He touches your shoulder with a finger, dragging it down your arm that was stretched out on the table. "Hi," his voice is gentle when he speaks to you.

"Hi," you answer, not as kindly, keeping your eyes pointed on your 'boss'. Yoongi shifts his gaze to the photos littering the table and smiles.

"It's insanity, right? Incredible," he looks at Bang in disbelief, "She listens to the song once, and comes up with... all of this."