BTS IMAGINES AND SCENARIOS

The ghost in 3B✿ (Park Jimin/ Jimin)

Y/n

You noticed the missing socks first.

It wasn't alarming at first.
The laundry room was cramped, and sometimes socks just got lost. But the first time you pulled a mismatched pair from the dryer, you shook your head. How did that even happen?
Then it was a second pair.
And a third.
You even found one sitting in the hallway, just... sitting there, like it had been waiting for you to pick it up.

You blamed the old apartment building's quirks.
It was ancient, full of creaks and groans. The plumbing gurgled at odd hours, the floors seemed to shift underfoot, and the walls, well, they whispered.
But the socks... That was weird.
Still, you let it slide.

Then, there was the TV.

It was always the same . You'd get home late from work, drag yourself into the living room, and sit down with a snack, ready to relax. You'd reach for the remote, only to find the TV already on.
And it wouldn't be some random channel.
It would be your favorite drama , always the same episode, the one where everything starts to get intense. You hadn't touched it in days.
You'd turn it off, but then...
The next night? Same thing.

You didn't even have to turn it on. It just was on.

It started to happen more often. You'd step into the living room, and there it was ,the TV, glowing faintly, playing your favorite episodes like it was waiting for you.
It wasn't exactly scary, but it was unsettling. Like someone had been watching with you.

You tried everything.
Changed the batteries in the remote, moved the TV, even unplugged it overnight.
It didn't stop.

And then, one evening, the phone.

It was the most confusing part, really.
You could hear the familiar hum of your phone going off.
BTS.
Not a text. Not a notification.
Just a random song. One you hadn't played in ages. It wasn't even in your playlists.
You checked, thinking you had accidentally hit play on a random track, but it wasn't that either. It had just started.
You muted it, but the next day, it was the same, another song, at a different time, without you touching anything.

It was getting harder to explain away.

That was the night you were fed up.
After the third time the TV flicked on by itself, you decided to give the apartment a piece of your mind.

"If you're going to keep doing this," you muttered under your breath, staring at the flickering screen,

"either haunt me properly or leave me the hell alone!"

You didn't expect anything.
But when the room felt... thicker, warmer, you couldn't help but glance around.

And that's when you saw it.
A shadow.
At first, it was just a movement in the corner of your eye.
Then it became clearer.
A person, sitting on the armrest of the couch, legs crossed, staring at you.

You blinked.
Hard.

He was there.
He was real.

A boy, no, a man , in an oversized white hoodie and black sweatpants, casually leaning back. His hair was a soft silver color, messy in that way that looked intentional.
He smiled at you, like he'd been sitting there forever.

And then he spoke, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"You know, you're kind of rude for yelling at me."

You froze, mouth open, ready to scream, but nothing came out.
He raised an eyebrow.

"What? You expected some dramatic entrance?"
The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable.