It had been a week or so since the fan meet, and Min Yoongi still couldn't get Han Seo-yeon out of his head.
He lay on the couch in the living room of his house, one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling. The album was finished, and the members had gone back to their own homes after weeks in the dorm. He had the whole house to himself and nothing to do. That was the problem.
Han Seo-yeon.
He didn't understand it. He had known her for one night. He didn't even have her number. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw her.
Her hair came first. It was long and black, and it fell all the way to her waist. That night it had been a little messy, and a few strands had stuck to her wet cheeks when she cried. He remembered how soft it felt when it brushed against his arm.
Then her face. Her eyes were big and dark, a little red from crying, and they had gone wide when she recognized him. Her cheeks turned pink when she laughed. She had a small nose and a mouth that curved up at the corners, even when she was sad.
Her body was slim but not too thin. She had a narrow waist and soft curves, and she came up just to his shoulder. When she stumbled into him in the bar, he had caught her by the waist, and he remembered how small and warm she felt in his hands. He remembered how nicely she fit against him, as if she had always belonged there.
And her voice. Slightly high, a little shaky, and so honest. She had said everything she felt, without hiding anything.
He rubbed his face with both hands.
What is wrong with me?
He had been with other people before. It had never been like this. He had never lain on a couch in the middle of the afternoon thinking about a girl whose last name he had to remember because she had never given him her number. He had never felt like a part of him was missing.
He stared at the ceiling again. He didn't hear the front door open.
"Hyung!"
Yoongi jumped and almost fell off the couch.
Jimin was standing at the entrance of the living room with his shoes still on, holding a paper bag and grinning.
"Why do you always do that?"
"Because it's funny. Also, your door was unlocked. You should be more careful. What if a fan walked in?" Jimin dropped the bag on the table and sat in the armchair. "You were staring at the ceiling again."
"I was thinking."
"About her?"
Yoongi didn't answer.
"Hyung." Jimin leaned forward. "It's been a week or so. You have to do something."
"Do what? I don't know where she is."
"I know. But sitting here like a ghost won't help." Jimin shook his head and opened the bag. He pulled out two cups of iced coffee and handed one to him. "Anyway, I'm not here to lecture you. I came because the manager called me."
"The manager?"
"He can't go to the meeting today. He has some emergency at the agency. He wants the two of us to go in his place."
"What meeting?"
"The event planning company. For the anniversary concert." Jimin took a sip of coffee. "They want to discuss the schedule and venue. It's just a first meeting. The manager said it'll be quick."
"Why us?"
"Because there's nobody else free, and he trusts us." Jimin stood up and straightened his jacket. "Come on. Get dressed. We have to leave in thirty minutes."
Yoongi groaned, but he got up.
---
The office was in a tall glass building downtown. A receptionist showed them to a meeting room on the fifth floor, and a woman in a gray suit came in a few minutes later with a folder.
"Welcome, Mr. Min, Mr. Park," she said, bowing. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. I'm the director of the events team."
"Nice to meet you," Yoongi said, bowing back.
They sat around a long table. The director opened her folder and began to go over the concert details. The date, the venue, the stage layout, the lighting. Jimin took notes. Yoongi nodded in the right places, but his thoughts kept drifting.
"There's one thing I should mention," the director said, closing the folder. "I'm very sorry, but there's a small hiccup in our partnership."
"What kind of hiccup?" Jimin asked.
"The colleague who was in charge of your project just resigned. We'll be assigning a new person, but it may take some time. Please give us about a week to make up for it."
"That's fine," Jimin said. "We understand."
Yoongi didn't say anything. He was staring at the table.
A knock came at the door.
"Come in," the director said.
The door opened, and a woman in her forties stepped inside. She was carrying a file.
"Good morning, team leader," the director said.
"Good morning. Sorry to interrupt." The team leader bowed to the two guests, then turned to the director. "I wanted to let you know that Miss Han's resignation has been processed. She finished all the forms this morning."
Yoongi's head snapped up.
"Han?" he said.
Everyone turned to look at him.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "What was her name?"
"Han Seo-yeon," the team leader said. "She was the planner in charge of your project."
The room went very quiet.
Han Seo-yeon.
"Han Seo-yeon," Yoongi repeated slowly. His heart started to pound. "That name sounds familiar."
"Does it?" the director said.
"Please wait a moment." He stood up. "Can I see a picture of her?"
The director and the team leader exchanged a puzzled look. Then the team leader opened the file in her hands and turned it around. On the first page was an employee ID photo.
It was her.
The long black hair, tied back neatly. The big dark eyes. The small, curved smile. She looked a little more serious than she had that night, but there was no mistaking her.
"It's her," he whispered.
"Hyung?" Jimin said. "Which one?"
Yoongi didn't answer. He looked up at the team leader.
"Where is she? Is she still here?"
"She left a few minutes ago," the team leader said. "She finished her resignation procedure about ten minutes ago, and she left the building."
Yoongi didn't wait to hear the rest. He pushed back his chair so hard it nearly fell over and ran out of the room.
"Hyung!" Jimin shouted behind him. "Where are you going?"
He didn't stop. He ran down the hallway and pressed the elevator button over and over. It was too slow, so he took the stairs, jumping two steps at a time. His breath was loud in his ears. He crossed the lobby, almost knocked into a man carrying boxes, and pushed through the glass doors.
He stopped on the sidewalk.
Cars were moving up and down the street. Buses, taxis, delivery bikes. People hurried past him in every direction, carrying bags and phones and umbrellas. He turned left, then right, scanning every face.
She wasn't there.
He ran to the corner and looked down the next street. Nothing. He ran back and looked again. A black car pulled away from the curb, and for a second he thought he saw someone with long black hair in the back seat, but it was too far away, and the car turned the corner and disappeared.
He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, breathing hard, his hands hanging at his sides.
She had been in this building. She had been here, only minutes ago. If he had come a little earlier, if he had left the house sooner, if he hadn't been lying on the couch feeling sorry for himself, perhaps he would have found her.
He pressed his hands against his face.
He was so damn disappointed.