𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐒

XXIII

"Jimin, where are we going?" Rosé clasped her hands in her lap and looked over at Jimin, who leaned back in his seat, fixing his eyes on hers as the limo sped down the gentle foothills of Seoul City and into the teeming downtown area, into the swarm of loud noises and amber streetlights.

"My favorite restaurant, Miss Park." His voice was soft. Low. Confident. Almost warm as he shifted in his seat to turn towards her. His eyes once again transfixed by how the evening sun seemed to light her from within.

On a whim he had decided to take her out. Found her standing in the room he had dedicated to the display his art collection. She'd been eyeing the Chuck Close painting on the wall-the massive portrait coalescing into something logical from far away, but merely abstract pools of color from where she stood-and cleared his throat.

"Miss Park." Willing himself to keep calm as he regarded her. Her form. The look on her face as she turned towards him, her hair falling gracefully about her shoulders and face.

"Might I request your presence this evening?"

Rosé had nodded, eyes neutral. Unsurprised.

"You know where to find me, Jimin." She'd turned her back to him then, continuing her study of the painting on the wall.

Rosé pressed her lips together, a slight twitch of anxiety running in spurts through her.

His favorite restaurant-oh god, I'm surely underdressed for something like this-I'm sure it's some hoity-toity place where they won't serve me if I don't look like I own half of the city...

"Ah, I see..." She dropped her eyes to her lap, wishing she'd thought to wear something a little nicer. One of Jungkook's dresses... Wishing Jimin had, in his haste, his sudden excitement at this outing, thought to perhaps warn her of something along these lines.

As if sensing her concern, Jimin replied quickly, his eyes scanning her from her sandaled feet to her loose hair, "don't worry, Rosé-where we're going, I'm actually the one who's rather overdressed..." He leaned forward in his seat to take off his suit jacket, folding it and laying it neatly on the armrest between them, then reached up to untie his tie, sliding the silken fabric out of its perfectly tied knot before he rolled it up adeptly, placing it on top of the jacket.

Rosé watched with an almost morbid fascination as he unfastened the buttons at his wrists before rolling his sleeves up to the elbow, exposing his forearms, all pale and smooth like his hands, then reached upwards once more to unbutton the top two buttons of his shirt, revealing a hint of a white cotton undershirt underneath the fine linen. He ran his fingers through the jet black hair two times and shifted comfortably on his seat.

She ripped her eyes away-not nearly quickly enough-as Jimin noticed her staring at him.

His voice, tinged with curiosity. "Do I have something on my shirt?"
He looked down at the crisp front of his shirt, fingers scrabbling along the surface, searching for an errant thread-perhaps a stain-?

She swallowed hard, slowly lowering her eyes to his chest-clenching her fists in her lap, smothered by skirts where he couldn't see them-as she tried not to linger for too long.

I am the one in control here-

-remember that-

A smile curling on her lips almost defensively as she flicked her eyes up to meet his confused gaze.

"Nothing, Jimin-I thought there was something there-I must have been mistaken."

Control.

Vinegar.