Dichrome || k.th [COMPLETED]

2| One Night In a Strange City

"∂σ уσυ ηєє∂ мє
σя ∂σ уσυ נυѕт ηєє∂ ѕσмєσηє?"

—Rapi Kaur

°°°·.°·..·°¯°·._.· t w o ·._.·°¯°·.·° .·°°°

"What's your major, dear?" The woman's voice was gentle, making you the most comfortable you had felt around people for a while. Her silky, soft, raven fringes swayed as she looked up at you, crescent eyes holding a warm glow.

"Photography," You replied as politely as you could, the introvert within you screaming but you pushed the bastard in timeout, "I've been ambitious to pursue it for as long as I can remember."

"Look at you, having your future all organized and planned out at such a young age," The man seated adjacent to his wife chimed. The spiffy, crisp lines on his forehead creased as he sighed, "I wish for Taehyung to learn from you, he's uninterested in almost everything except for arts. I wonder in what direction will his concept go.

The disappointment in his voice wasn't left undetected by you. Nor by his own son.

Discomfiture hung over the atmosphere, like a cloud of awkwardness. Mrs. Kim's gaze warningly gleamed at her husband whilst you looked to your side at your friend. You regretted doing that upon seeing him humiliated, face changing color to beet red before he thickly gulped the water he had in his mouth, as if it left a terrible aftertaste.

His gaze remained unwavered from the pair of clean chopsticks intertwined between his fingers. He'd probably lost his appetite, and you'd immediately understood that there was a long tale behind this. Probably which included countless nights of arguments with an unconvinced, tradition-oriented father.

All that you could read from his expression.

"Well, maybe, I would like to do something I actually have aptitude for." A low voice grumbled quietly, blanketed with forced civility.

As much as you'd got to know them in the past two hours, his parents never came across being overly-dominating. But then again, you'd only judged their polite façades and gentle tones. Little did you know about the other color of the story.

He physically resembled his father to a great extent, and perhaps he repented it. There wasn't much he could do about it, anyway.

You, on the other hand, had discovered the secret to the Kim men's beauty. Tall, lean, broad shoulders - you had it memorized. His father was slightly more burly than him, facial features more dapper and scruff. The middle-aged man owned black hair, and intense black orbs which, you insinuated, were to look terrifying if he ever were to be infuriated. You decided not to stare any longer, gerontophilia not on your bucket list.

Other than the awkward, passive taunt, lunch elapsed pretty well, delight higher than your expectations. You'd literally made a quick prayer before leaving that his parents wouldn't put you up for some boring questions, and God listened.