noc·tu·ary
(n.) a journal of nocturnal incidents
• a park jimin au •
in which a violinist misses the last train out of the city, so reluctantly seeks help from a dancer, after which the two strangers embark on a peculiar nighttime sojourn in Ne...
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The two resurface out of the subway and into the hustle and bustle of the city that never sleeps. Jimin eyes glance upwards, observing the haze that stretched wispy and thin in the sky, allowing him to see the translucent moonlight shining through the moving clouds.
"The address is just down this street," Kyara follows Jimin's pointing finger to the road parallel to where they stand.
The neon lights from the bars and shops collide with the artificial, warm glow of the lamps, illuminating the street together with lively pedestrians, who move in and out, walk back and forth on the side, mindless to the chilling weather.
Jimin takes in a deep breath, a muscle twitches involuntarily at the corner of his eye, his body suddenly resists the comfort and heat of his coat, any warmth he held before escapes him and the air kissing his skin feels colder as goosebumps form down his arms.
"Is it that bad?" Kyara sounds gentle, snapping his conscious back. Her concerned gaze studies his taut figure, "Whatever's waiting for you there?"
"It's nothing," Jimin is quick to avoid her question, and tries to push his troubles aside, growing somewhat calmer by her presence with him.
She deserves an explanation.
Jimin's sigh leaves him in the height of his tension, he racks his hand through his hair and dips his head downwards. He hesitates in voicing the reason to his anxious state, perhaps because he didn't want to believe it, perhaps because he doubts he is nervous at all.
"It's an ex... an ex something." He manages to admit to Kyara, who waits patiently next to him, "I just— I haven't seen her in a while."
The violinist nods understandingly as she clasps her hands together, wary to ask, "Was it a bad break up?"
Jimin finally lifts his face, locking his gloomy orbs with hers, "Are there any other kinds?"
This isn't what we're here for.
A pair of headlights appears down in their side, blinding them temporarily before passing and joining over dozen of its kind, giving Jimin enough time to lock his thoughts behind a door in his mind again and regain his nonchalance to continue, "Come on, I want to try and get you a bus."
"But they don't even run at night."
"Actually, we're close to Chinatown," Jimin's hand tugs on Kyara's sleeve before his fingers wrap lightly around her wrist, pulling her along behind him towards a bright, blue sign, opposite of the road Jimin had to be going down, "these go twenty four hours, plus, they're cheap."
A payphone stands beside the store where Kyara comes to a halt, pulling her wrist away from Jimin's hand, "I'm gonna make a call real quick, I'll be right in."
He complies, pushing the door open as a small bell chimes simultaneously, announcing his being there to an elderly man seated in the waiting area, resting his arms over his crane, and a fatigued lady who sits behind the counter where he steps forward to.
