Run or die. The question raced through my conjugled mind. The only words present. However I knew that if I made the decision I'd have to suffer. To go through the consequences. But I also knew that if I stayed I'd be left to rot like a dead body left to be burned. I had to make my decision, and I had to make it now. So I made it. I ran. I ran so fucking fast that the last thing anyone could do was stop me. There was nothing now. No turning back. No looking back. Each memory would only haunt me continuously. But only one word would register in this moment.
... Run.
......................
Y/N POV
It's been 3 years since the tradgedy. Since the fall of my "family". I would love to say that I've lived life well since then and found a group of besties to hang out with. I would love to be able to say that I've dated guys or even had guys as friends and that when we broke up I was like any normal girl, crying over the situation with ten million boxes of tissues and 33 tubs of brownie fudge ice cream. But despite my efforts, I really can't say any of that. Not even one thing.
So far nothing in my life has been normal. Not only have I tried so hard to get trustworthy friends but I've even tried so hard just to cope with life, and trust me it was not easy. Instead, the past 3 years of my life have been filled with anonymous notes from a mysterious and secret..."admirer?" That's what I'll call them for now, but they seem to know every detail of my life, let alone admire me for what I've done. They seemed to have gotten all my information down to the dot. Even my history, my past, all of which I've struggled to forget and everyday am reminded of. Don't get me wrong, I've tried to be a social butterfly but I guess that doesn't necessarily work for everybody ne. Especially not me, but I had no objection to trying. After all, all I wanted was to be normal. Just an ordinary person, living an ordinary life in an extraordinary world.
Luckily, -in the first few months of my runaway- I had harboured just enough money to buy an apartment in Busan. I knew that the whole reason that I ran away was because I didn't want to be like them. Like my so called "family". So I started of as a waitress, earning 5000 won each hour I worked. Gradually, I started to get hired into clothing shops and quite recently became a stylist at the Gucci shop downtown in Lotte Mall Dong Busan. However, each situation in my life, whether little or big has been merciless, nevertheless.
At the moment it was 5:00 am and I'm still early but I guess that just means more money for me. I was starting to get ready for work when I received a text from my boss.
Boss: Hey y/n can you please come in early today because we have some important clients to get styled. They're going to the BBMA's, so this will be your first major project.
Y/N: jinjja! Arraseo, I'm on my way. Thanks!
As I got dressed I couldn't help but wonder who the clients were, since there were a lot of celebrities going to the BBMA's. Anyway I decided to just do my best. After I was finished getting cleaned up and dressed, I headed down to my kitchen to grab a granola bar as a supplement for my breakfast. Then I headed straight for work, I decided to walk since I needed the excercise and it seemed like a fresh day.
What Y/N is wearing:
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Time skip to work brought to you by namjoons dimples...
Finally arriving, I stepped through the double doors that were adorned with the Gucci logo. A familiar sight but something I could never get over. Who would've have thought 3 years ago the girl sleeping on a broken bench who only ate a meal of ramen a week would be working at one of the biggest luxury retailers on the planet and as a stylist too. Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of vibrant blue in the corner of my eye. As I looked over in the direction of it, I saw a group of 7 breathtakingly beautiful men, each with diverse colours grazing there already amazing hair. Even with their backs to me I could differentiate each brand they wore and the cost of each article of clothing, and daaaaammmmmmnnnnnn were they hella expensive. I guess you pick up a few things when you work as a stylist for Gucci. Forget a snack! These boys were there own full three course meals!
I began to stumble towards them, since they seemed to be the only ones other than me who were in the shop. Somehow I got the feeling that these guys were my clients and also my ticket to some big money making. However, as soon as I reached them they all turned to me expectedly, as if they were waiting for an explanation as to why I wasn't already there. Now that they were all facing me, I took a glance at each one of them. Slowly contemplating there styles colours and expressions, but as soon as I looked towards the man who wore a maroon velvet jacket with an ebony black turtleneck underneath and was adorned with a beautiful look of bubble gum pink hair- our eyes locked and an involuntary shiver ran down my spine. His gaze held mine, almost as if we were in a showdown. I felt intimidated, which was not an emotion I often felt since the fall. For no reason whatsoever, I had the sudden urge to run. Just like before. Just before the fall. I don't know who this man was or why he felt so familiar. All I know is that I'll try my hardest to find out...
