Choose Your Own BTS Adventure

PATH 2: SEOKJIN - PART 4

"Are you okay in there?" came the worried voice of Namjoon with a knock on the bathroom door behind which you were currently hiding. "I heard screaming."

You clutched at your dome desperately, the shock of your baldness still very fresh and raw in your mind. You grasped for a towel to wrap around your head and then slowly opened the door, peeking out.

Namjoon studied you curiously. Your eyes wore a look of panic that appeared out of place in the quiet Saturday morning light. You did your best to hold your face together, to try to stifle the shrieks that wanted so desperately to leak out of you.

"Sorry," you said in a small, strangled voice. It took everything in you not to burst out in fresh tears just then. "I just, um, cut myself shaving my legs in the shower."

His eyes narrowed on you. It was clear he didn't believe you. "I didn't hear any water running. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," you said with a wave of your hands, trying to assure him that you most certainly weren't entirely bald under that towel.

His eyes lingered on yours for a spell longer, as he tried to make up his mind whether or not he was going to choose to believe you. It was too early in the morning for him to expel the energy required to extract the truth from you, though, so he gave in with a sigh. "Okay," he said, turning to leave. "Just try to be more careful next time. I don't want anything to happen to my favorite housekeeper."

It was that last remark that softened your heart enough to confide in him, at least enough to grab his arm before he could take off and ask in a whisper, "Hey, Namjoon. Could I maybe borrow a hat?"

He cocked an eyebrow at you. "A hat?" he asked, his voice full of groggy wonder as he scratched at the back of his neck.

"Yeah," you said. "You know, those things you put on your head?"

"I know what a hat is, Y/N," he said, his face full of passive aggressive scorn. "What do you need a hat for? Bad hair day or something?"

"Or something," you pushed out through gritted teeth before slapping a hopeless smile on your face.

"Okay," he said finally, setting your mind at ease. "I'll be right back."

"Thank you!" you called out in a voice a few shades too loud to be considered normal before shutting the door and locking it tight.

The time between his departure and his return stretched out like putty. When he finally returned, hat in hand, you opened the door and snatched it out of his hands like a greedy brat on Christmas morning.

He gave you another analytical look and you felt small under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Thanks again," you said, your hand already on the knob and starting to slowly close the door in his face, hoping he'd take the hint and leave you be. He still stood there looking stunned and dazed even for a few seconds after you shut the door with a soft click.

"Women," he harrumphed, shaking his head as he left.

Yanking off the towel, you let out another soft cry as the sight of your baldness brought about a another sharp pang of pain in your heart. You hurriedly shoved the cap over your head and then slapped on a face mask for good measure. A few minutes later, you were dressed and heading out in search of a good wig shop.

~~~~~~~

When you returned to Hannam the Hill several hours later, you were feeling no better than before you had left. It turned out that even though you walked for several hours in search of a store that sold wigs, you had come up empty handed. What little Korean you understood was apparently not enough to get you around in the unfamiliar city. The only wigs you were able to find were the leftover ones from Halloween that you found in a clearance bin at the local drug store. You were left to choose from one of three options: a short black bob made of such shiny, cheap plastic you may as well have just covered your head in spray paint instead, a neon pink abomination that was obviously no good, and a shoulder length platinum blonde wig that could have passed for natural if you were currently suffering from glaucoma.