Left Behind [Jungkook Fanfiction]

Prologue

                It was early in the morning. The air was cold but not enough to make me want to cover myself until I looked like a bag of clothes. It was more like a chill temperature, the one that give you goosebumps and then you don’t kind of feel it anymore, unless a cold wind passes by. The sun was slowly rising, letting its rays be seen from above the buildings blocking him. There wasn’t much noise, only a few birds flying gracefully above. I was standing at the bus stop, waiting for the first bus to arrive. There wasn’t much people either, just two old women beside me and a few cars going to god-knows-where.

                I’ve always loved getting up really early in the morning during vacations or free weekends to go on a lonely journey across the country to find inspiration. I mostly decided which city I wanted to visit and then go. This time I was making my way to see the morning ocean at Busan. I had heard from my fellow students that you can have the best views of the ocean at Busan. And I wanted to go there and paint something, because I hadn’t in a long time.
Even though I practiced every day I didn’t feel that as painting, since I didn't feel anything while doing it. To my eyes, it was just tracing lines on an empty canvas, no more than that. And it had been a long time since I had a free weekend and had felt inspired by something. So I thought it would be a good idea to go and paint whatever thing that really made me feel some kind of emotion.

                After ten minutes or so, the bus arrived and the doors opened. I climbed up, paid for the ride and greeted the chauffeur with a small bow and a smile. He smiled back and I sat beside a girl with a crazy hair colour.

                Her hair was so cool. And her grown-up-like features made it look even more awesome. The thing was that her hair was white, but it had stains of many bright colors. There was blue, pink, red, orange, green, yellow, and purple, even black and grey. All of that together. It actually looked like an abstract painting in which there are splatters all around. But this time, it looked even better in her.

                As I sat the girl muttered an “Annyonghaseyo.” Which I replied the same way, trying to hide my enthusiasm with her beautiful hair colour. I kept silent and started to feel bored so I took out my sketchpad and pencil with the intention of drawing whatever came into my mind. But I was stopped by the girl’s hand offering an apple.

“Do you want some? You look like you haven’t had breakfast yet.” I took my eyes away from the yet-drawn paper to look at her. She smiled once my eyes met hers, making a gesture for me to take the apple. How did she know I hadn’t had breakfast, I don’t know. The only thing I know is that ignoring the fact that I was surprised, I took the apple.

“Kamsahabnida…” I said as she started to talk about art because she had noticed my sketchpad. She talked about how much she loved it and the things she had once done and painted. But the thing that fascinated me the most was the fact that she had dyed her hair by herself because “Art can turn out many ways, and my hair is one of those.” She had plastered her love for art and her talent on her hair. Something I had never seen before, and I really liked it.

                When we arrived at the train station we had to part different ways and was just then when I realized that I hadn’t asked her what her name was. I had been so concentrated on the conversation that I forgot about the fact that she had a name. It’s funny because I guess she also forgot to ask mine. I can’t judge, she was as much into the conversation as I was myself.

                I wanted to take the first train to Busan, but it was just about to part. I had to run with my not-so-light things all the way to the train. Spend all that trouble just to find the train about to explode because of the excessive amount of people. I don’t know how I did it, but I managed my way inside. As I had expected, there wasn’t any free seats, so I had to get a grip on the upper bar. The only problem is my height.