"I'm looking for..." He paused. His expression clouded. Jisoo waited patiently. He sighed. "I've forgotten." She smiled kindly. "It happens." He laughed quietly. "No... I haven't had my Purple Hour yet." She walked around the counter. "What did you come here thinking about?" He frowned. "My wife." "Then maybe you were looking for something for her." His face brightened. "That's right." He laughed at himself. "A notebook." Jisoo handed him one with a deep purple cover. "For memories?" "For memories." He stared at the notebook for a long moment. "My wife had her Purple Hour last month." Jisoo's smile faltered. "She doesn't remember me anymore." Silence settled between them. "But..." He looked down at the notebook. "...I'm going to make her fall in love with me again." His voice was determined. Jisoo felt tears threatening her eyes. She watched him leave the bookstore holding the journal against his chest like something precious. Maybe love wasn't about remembering. Maybe it was about choosing someone again even if you had to start from the beginning.

Taehyung ignored him, gaze locked on Jisoo. "He's bothering you." "No," she snapped. "He's not." The lie was thin. Taehyung took a step closer. "Then why are you yelling at me instead of him?" Silence. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "He's my friend," she said tightly. The word felt wrong the moment it left her mouth. Taehyung's brows knit together. "Your... what?" "My friend," she repeated. "So just-leave it." He laughed once, sharp and incredulous. "Since when do you have a friend like this?" The guy's face darkened. "Watch your mouth." Taehyung finally turned to him, eyes cold. "Or what?" "Tae-!" Jisoo hissed. Taehyung looked back at her, stunned now-not angry, not yet, just genuinely shaken. "You never mentioned him. Not once." "I don't owe you explanations," she said, voice trembling with something dangerously close to panic. "That's not what this is," Taehyung said quietly. "This is about him." The guy scoffed. "You don't know anything about her." Taehyung's jaw tightened. "I know more than you, enough to see when she's uncomfortable."

dropping it on the table. Tonight already felt like a waste. She was about to rest her chin on her palm when- A shadow stopped in front of her. She looked up only halfway, just enough to see a jawline carved by God and lit by neon. The guy had messy dark hair and eyes that shimmered under the strobing lights-eyes that looked like they belonged to someone who laughed easily, but didn't tonight. He leaned slightly forward, trying to get her attention. "Want to dance?" he asked, voice low but clear even over the music. Jisoo blinked. Once. Twice. Her mouth opened automatically. "Yeah," she said, waving dismissively, "I'll come in a moment." She didn't even look fully at him. She didn't think she needed to. Her phone buzzed again. She looked down.

That story is dedicated to someone close to my heart. It's written with emotions and I know not everyone might like it because this story isn't simple cute love story. My point was to write emotions i feel and not everytime It's happiness. Life is brutal the way it is and not everything is sugarcoated.

Mrs. Kim cleared her throat softly, as if to remind them they weren't alone. "Taehyung," she said lightly, "why don't you sit down? I've just made a very interesting offer to Miss Jisoo." He turned slightly toward his mother, still visibly tense. "You didn't." "Oh, I did," Mrs. Kim said with a calm smile. "She's perfect for the role." Jisoo felt his eyes on her again, heavier now, colder. "Of course you agreed," he muttered. "I didn't," she shot back immediately. "But nice to know how low you think of me." He looked at her like he was trying to read every layer of her - and like he didn't like what he was finding. "Whatever this is," he said finally, voice clipped and sharp, "stay out of it." Jisoo tilted her head, that mischievous spark back in her eyes. "Make me."

Taehyung hesitated, staring toward the faint shadow behind Jisoo's curtain. >Taehyung: ...Got new neighbors. >Hoseok: Some girls? Tell me they're hot. Taehyung bit down a grin. >Taehyung: A family with one girl. The chat exploded. >Jimin: OH??? >Daehan: This man's on house arrest and still pulling girls. >Seojun: Respect. >Hoseok: Describe. Taehyung typed, then deleted. Typed again. Deleted. He wasn't about to write poetry about the girl he saw for literally ten seconds. >Taehyung: Black hair. Pretty. That's all. >Jimin: Bro that's the vaguest shit ever. >Daehan: Did you flirt? Taehyung's ears burned. >Taehyung: Tried. >Seojun: USED THE SMILE? Taehyung exhaled loudly through his nose. >Taehyung: Yes. >Hoseok: And?? Taehyung dropped his face into his palm. >Taehyung: My ankle monitor screamed like a dying robot. In front of her.

Taehyung blinked. "What are you-" "Your side," she said, pressing the tape down with surgical precision, "and my side." He blinked again. "Wait-" "You stay over there," she continued, gesturing like she was performing a ritual, "and I stay over here. You don't cross the line. No socks, no shoes, no coffee cups. No humming. No existing past the tape." Taehyung stared at her for a beat... then burst out laughing. "You've got to be kidding." "I've never been more serious in my life."

"You weren't supposed to see it yet," he says quietly. She crosses her arms, trying to shield herself from the sudden, stupid ache inside. "Why is she in it?" His answer is soft. Deadly soft. "Because you're not complete without her." Jisoo's nails bite into her palms. "She's weak," she says. "She left you." Taehyung steps closer, slow. "She's part of the story whether you like it or not." "I'm not her." "No," he agrees, voice dropping lower. "You're the one who stayed." The words land somewhere between a compliment and a curse. He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, thumb grazing her cheek. "There's only room for one muse when it's finished," he whispers.

It started on Monday. He was late to their tutoring session. Not drastically, but Taehyung wasn't usually late anymore - not since they'd started... whatever it was they'd started. Their rhythm. Their uneasy, teasing, careful balance. He slid into the library seat with a quick, "Sorry," barely meeting her eyes. His hoodie sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, and she noticed the faint tremble in his fingers as he reached for his pen. Jisoo narrowed her eyes. "Did you eat today?" "Hmm?" He didn't look up, already flipping through the textbook. "Taehyung." "I'm fine." That was the answer she kept getting.

"Not bad," he said, nudging her skate with the toe of his sneaker. "You almost looked like a real skater back there." "Wow. A compliment without a side of sarcasm. Are you feeling okay, Skater Boy?" He turned his head toward her, eyebrow raised. "Skater Boy?" "You know," she said, smirking as she sat up and tugged off her wrist guards, "black hoodie, late-night skating, annoying levels of confidence-if Avril Lavigne had a fever dream, it'd be you." He let out a low laugh. "Okay, Seoul, that's the worst nickname I've ever heard." "Good," she said sweetly. "It's supposed to sting."