DREAM, MOONCHILD, SOULMATE || BTS

7: FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING

I turned, startled to see Taehyung standing there. He'd followed me, his silhouette emerging from the shadows, his gaze locked on me with an intensity that made my heart stutter. I hadn't expected him to follow me, and the mixture of relief and discomfort washed over me like a wave.

"Taehyung," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you following me?"

His expression was serious, a stark contrast to his usual playful demeanor. "You seemed drunk," he said quietly, stepping closer. "They asked me to follow you. I thought you were making a call... I didn't know you smoked."

I shifted awkwardly, trying to shrug off the tension, but the anxiety was tightening its grip around me. "I just needed some air," I explained, the cigarette dangling between my fingers like a guilty secret. "And, well, I smoke sometimes... when I drink. It's an old habit from back home. I'm sorry."

Taehyung's eyes softened, but there was something urgent in his voice. "I get it, but you need to be careful. You're a singer, Miya. Smoking—especially now—could hurt your voice." He paused, his gaze locking with mine. "And more than that, people are watching."

My heart sank as his words hit me. He was right. We weren't just two people sneaking out for a smoke. We were under a spotlight, with every move scrutinized. I glanced around, suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed we were.

"You're already drawing attention," he added, his voice low and steady.

I bit my lip, the gravity of the situation finally settling in. The streets were quiet now, but that could change in an instant. A fan with a camera, a journalist lurking—there was no room for mistakes.

"We should go back," Taehyung said gently, his hand reaching for mine. His touch was warm, grounding me in the moment.

I hesitated, finishing my cigarette and tossing it away with a sigh. The air was thick with tension, and when I looked at Taehyung, I could see the disappointment flicker across his face, barely concealed. Without thinking, I grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly as I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder as we began walking back.

After J-Hope paid the bill, we found ourselves wandering down Hongdae Street. The energy was electric—music and laughter spilling out from every corner, street performers showcasing their talents under the neon lights. I've always loved watching street performances, the rawness of it all. There's something magical about seeing someone pour their heart out in front of strangers.

As we strolled along, I spotted a busker nearby, his voice resonating above the crowd. Drawn in, I moved to the front, eager to see him up close, while the other members hung back, blending in with the crowd. The singer finished his song, his eyes scanning the audience before landing on me. He smiled, his voice laced with excitement as he spoke into the mic.

"I know you," he said, his voice echoing through the speakers. "I follow you on YouTube. You have an incredible voice. Would you sing one of your covers?"

I was flattered but shook my head, smiling apologetically. "I'm a bit tipsy, and my throat's kind of sore right now," I explained, trying to brush it off. But the crowd wasn't having it. The busker continued to beg, his eyes pleading, and soon the crowd joined in, chanting for me to sing.

My heart raced. There was no way out now. The anticipation in the air was thick, and I knew I had to step up. Taking a deep breath, I agreed, feeling the weight of everyone's expectations on my shoulders.

I chose to sing "Fake Love," the same song that had connected me to so many online. As soon as I started, I saw Jimin and J-Hope move to the front, their phones raised, recording me with proud smiles on their faces. The first few notes left my lips, and the crowd fell silent, their attention entirely on me.