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i spent the longest time trying to remember what color Tae's hair in this story is omg, i still don't remember so dont come for me
sorry for grammar mistakes, please enjoy -
The ride to the Park's residence was nothing less conventional since the dude lived right down the block from my place and as stupid as this sounds, I was currently hiding out in my car that was parked a few houses down from his, windows rolled up, and shades on.
To be honest, I was dreading even coming here because a huge part of me thought this project was gonna be a flop. I even considered walking to prolong the journey here but the spamming calls and texts blowing up my phone from Park Jimin forced me to take my car.
Jaemin and Joon shot me a few messages saying that they would be running a little late but they'd still be here which was great even though I knew they did not wanna come, not even stand in the presence of Taehyung and Jimin, they were just doing it for me which I was grateful for. I don't get why my dumbass would even recommend us all working together. Fuck, this was such a stupid idea.
"Ugh," I grumble under my breath as I lean into the window, eyes zeroed in on the huge mansion waiting before me. I hadn't been here, well inside of Jimin's home in years. Maybe the last time I was eight and Jimin and I were overdosing on jolly ranchers and juice boxes on his living floor...those were the times but nevertheless, the house from outside didn't look any different from what it did years ago.
There were still those same flowers in front of white picket fence and the vegetable garden behind it. The front door still read "Parks" in dark cursive and the stairs were still as massive as can be just like when I was child and would climb up it to get it inside.
From what I remember Jimin's parents were nice.
Despite being a cheating douchebag, Mr. Park was an okay guy, a guy everybody idolized in this town. He was charming, attractive, (and always serious) with a beautiful family and an even beautifuler son who would one day follow in his footsteps. He didn't communicate much with me when I used to come around but he would always give me this look, a strange look as if he was trying to figure me out.
Mrs. Park was quiet but kind. Always picking me up from school when my mom would run late, plucking flowers from her garden and putting one behind me ear, and always a smile on her face. She was cool, too cool almost.
My phone buzzing in my pocket pulled me out of my thoughts sadly as I shimmy my hand into the back pocket of my jeans and whip it out, screen lighting with another text message from the one and only.
Park Jimin:
You here?
Ugh, I'm stalling.
Y/n:
Walking up to the front door. Open it for me?
Jimin doesn't respond to the message after that so with a low groan erupting from my throat, I hop out of my safe haven of a vehicle and march up to the white picket fence calling my name. I push it open and then close it after myself before sprinting up the cobblestone steps.
