I tugged on my heavy suitcase, and pulled it to my room.
Room 707.
"Why did they put me on the seventh floor?" I whined, and unlocked the door. I gaped at the room. There was one single bed, and beautiful decorated interior, and I neatly stocked bathroom. "Wowsie! Look at all this floor space!" I said, closing the door behind me. I threw my suitcase on my bed, and zipped it open, quickly stuffing my things away. Once I finished, I hung up my coat and set my suitcase in the closet. I leaped onto the bed, and stretched out. "Ahhh." I say, sighing of comfort. "Oh! I almost forgot!" I go to dig around in my suitcase, and find the small leather box. I open it, floods of photos falling to the ground. I pick up one, of me and my brother. Namjoon and Me. I pick up another, filtered black and white. I sigh, carefully holding it. "Mom." I whisper to the card as if Mom was still here. I pinned the photos to a corkboard, and stared at them for a while. "Now. As my job as a journalist, I have to interview someone. I'll start with my neighbor!" I throw my jacket back on, and tuck my notebook and pen in my pocket. I leave my apartment, going over to my neighbor's door.
I rap on it lightly, no answer. I knock again, still no answer. "Hello? It's anyone home? I just-" The door swing open, and there stands a blonde man, his hair messy, and concealer smeared on his face. "What?" He says, coldly and annoyed.
"Um, I'm a journalist, and I'm looking for someone to inter-" The door slams, and I hear it lock. I sigh, my shoulders dropping. "I'll buy you.. food? I'll never bother you ag-" The odor swings open again. "Come in." He says, faking a smile. I nod in thanks, and I step in his room.
His room smells of lemons, and I see six other boys sitting on the ground playing video games. "She's just here to interview me, so get out." The boys look at each other, wriggle their eyebrows, and leave. I sit down on a chair, and he sits on his bed, resting his elbows on his knees and observing his feet. "Uh, my name is Syfa, and how is your life right now?"
"Not interesting. I rap for a living, along with my six other brothers. We also dance, and some do basic vocals.. not rap." I nod, and note it down on my notebook. "Are you really a journalist, or are you another fan who found my apartment?" I perk up, "Fan? I don't even know what band your from." He sighs of relief.
"Well, good. I guess I'll tell you a bit more."
He tells me his name is Min Yoongi, stage name Suga, and he's from a group called Bangtan Sonyeondan/Bangtan Boys/Behind The Scenes, BTS for short. The group members are like brother to him. He explains ages, and his opinions about his hyungs and dongsaengs.
After hearing his story, I gather my things. "Thank you Mr Min." I bow.
"Just call me Suga. Get out. You still owe me food." I nod, and leave Suga to whatever.
I instantly pull out my laptop once I'm in my apartment, and write my article.
YOU ARE READING
maybe if i did || suga
FanfictionWhen Syfa moves into the apartment besides a lazy old grumpy "grandpa" named Min Yoongi, reckoned to be called Suga, she wishes she had stayed home. // Suga // Cover by Chiminemochi // Fanfiction // Romance //