The Fall was a Trip - Prologue
An Original work written, produced, storyboarded, edited, agonized over and owned by: bangtanbeforebitches
Starring: Min Yoongi and Actor YN/Reader (from a purposely POC perspective) with guest appearances by everyone else you know and love.
Genre: Bangtan is Bangtan-verse AU, Rom-Com, Interracial Relationship Navigation, Strangers to Lovers, Quick but Slow Burn, Star-Crossed Lovers, Story within a Story, POC POV, K-Drama Indulgent on all fronts
Themes/Warnings: Heavy issues, Honest discussions, Things people probably don’t want to hear, Ridiculous run-ons for the fuck of it, 4th wall breaking, Inner monologue rants, YN is EXTRA AF, Mentions of racism, Childhood trauma resurfacing, Mentions of anxiety, Dangerous situations, a Shit-ton of swearing, Drinking, Probably smut at some point down the line, Some hopefully not so confusing script breakdowns, Usage of basic film and stage production terminology, Excessive flirtation (but Jimin doesn’t count), Fluff on Fluff on Fluff, Smooth moves, Lots of awkward moments, YN is a klutz, Sweetness to rot your teeth, Mood Swings, Denial of emotions, and at some point after therapy- Acceptance.
Format: Multi-chapter, ongoing WIP
Word count: currently 17k
Rating: Explicit, Minors are advised to not pass GO. 18+
If I could describe the way his gaze makes me feel in one word it would probably be…
I’m going to have to go with "uncomfortable".
In the absolute best way, sure, but let me just honestly say out loud (well, in my head) that it has been legit agony. To have all of these feelings drummed up so suddenly and at once for this one person. How people in relationships get over feeling this vulnerable all the time is beyond me.
From the moment we first locked eyes and through each encounter since then...
Every simple conversation,
Every plot to secretly meet,
Every unplanned moment that became a precious memory for me,
Every one of the countless, staged, 'casual run-ins' with one another,
Each of the covert missions we carried out,
Each of the lies we told and the omissions of the truth that our friends made for us,
All the sneaking around and all of the work was necessary just to have a basic date.
Just to have one night together.
And I’m not sorry for it because I would do it all again if I had to.
It was worth it so he could experience some semblance of normalcy for once in his life.
It’s amazing, really, how long we were able to keep it up.
What, with the many declarations of his affections for me that felt so obvious but Dispatch and the rest of the press missed…
We somehow still survived even after that stupid, impulsive and unprofessional profession he decided to make in front of both armies…
That one left me breathless. He was so smooth.
And, yes-- right now, as he gloats at me with his eyes from across this aisle.
He’s currently trying to get me riled up over a snack. A snack that I bought, mind you. His hand has been forever lost in my bag of shrimp crackers with that dumb-pretty, cocky smirk of his and flecks of golden crumbs dusting his lips.
The power of a single look from this man?
Even when he’s being obnoxiously cute like this?
What I see in his eyes when he looks at me can unsettle my entire being.
Back when we met, his stare was unnerving. He wasn’t just examining me like everyone else did, though. Holding his gaze for the first time felt like a test that I was unprepared for. I didn’t know what answers he wanted from me. I hadn’t properly studied. There was no time.
Never once did he judge me based on my appearance, which was so opposite of anyone around us. Nor did he judge me by my choice of handbag, which he once swore he notices first when meeting someone to get around actually answering the question.
His lack of prejudice was appreciated but it was a privilege I certainly was not accustomed to since moving to South Korea.
He didn’t and still doesn’t give half a fuck about my height,
-- only a few inches shorter than him and we’re eye level when I’m in heels.
-- hips wider than his, chest ample and rear high, rounded and pronounced.
-- which when free suffocates him if I lean on his shoulder.
He didn’t care about my skin tone, meanwhile, his entire country revolves around this standard idea of porcelain equaling perfection.
He didn’t make assumptions about me based on the way that I speak or the way I sometimes make very American mistakes.
Honestly, I could be standing before him, stripped down completely nude, and this guy would probably still keep his eyes locked on mine for as long as humanly possible before indulging.
He likes that we’re so different. He likes that I’m so different. He says all of my everything is exactly what he didn’t know he was looking for.
Each day I wake up and struggle to remind myself that he’s into this-- into me and my body, my thoughts, my dreams and my touch. It’s a lot for my brain to accept.
Until he rolls over, opens his eyes and looks at me.
Those searing orbs he houses in that perfectly sculpted face of his are dangerous, packed with the fervency of a meteor and the luster of a star.
He has the ability to make every drop of blood in my veins run hot. I could easily describe to you in detail the residual side effects that have been wracked upon my person since meeting Min Yoongi.
It feels not as if he's looking at me or looking through me because, no. That much I would be able to handle. At least I think I could.
Well, I definitely can handle that kind of look from anyone except for him. I did all the time. I could take it when I was still capable of discernment which is a skill I now lack thanks to his presence in my life.
Back in the day, when our paths first crossed, I swear to you-- I had a thicker skin.
Ok, I should rephrase that.
“Back when we first stumbled upon one another” is more true to this story.
I was so used to either being gawked at like some newly discovered species in a zoo OR (on the flip side) being completely ignored altogether like I wasn’t worthy of existing.
His is a sincere, open and full-on stare that bores into me, birthed from somewhere deep within him.
Always so intense, his focus on me. It’s discomfiting, the way I’m left paralyzed by him. Helpless while he hacks into my hardware and memorizes every line of my code. It’s as if he knows things about me, my system and how I work that even I have yet to download and discover. He sees every pixel. He’s saved away each of my files “as is” and keeps searching for more.
And whenever our eyes connect, I’m able to see all of him too.
I want nothing more than for him to keep looking at me exactly the way he is right now.
Like he wants to keep what he’s found.
I would also like for him to stop being a fucking tease and pass back my damn shrimp crackers already.
This is going to be a long flight home.
