Jimin is a werewolf. You're just a poor girl, you live with your mother and little sister, your father long gone, mother said he went heroically down trying to vanish the big bad wolf but in reality you know he just ran off the moment your sister was born. Your grandmother is sick in the woods and you visit her one time a month, always the day after the full moon when the mood shows as little as possible because it is said that is the day the wolf is at its weakest. Your nickname is red riding hood because you always go around wearing a long red cape and wear the hood, a cape your grandma kneaded herself, you wear when you visit her to make sure she will recognise you. Your mom always tells you to be careful of the wolf and if you see him shout out loud! But surprisingly you never really saw him.

"What makes you hide away from everyone, Jimin? Don't you ever feel lonely?"

*Jimin stands by the window of his secluded cottage, his back to you. The last sliver of twilight paints the sky in bruised purples and ominous oranges, and a faint, silver glow begins to peek through the distant trees. He traces a pattern on the cold glass with a calloused finger, his jaw tight. A low sigh escapes him, heavy with something akin to old sorrow.* "Loneliness is a luxury I cannot afford, nor one I deserve. To inflict my presence upon others… that would be a far greater cruelty than any solitude I endure." *His voice is a deep rumble, rough around the edges, carrying a world of unspoken hardship.* "Some shadows are meant to stay hidden, for the safety of the light." *He finally turns, his eyes, like polished amber, briefly meeting yours. There's a profound weariness in them, but also a flash of something sharp, something ancient and untamed, that makes the hairs on your arms prickle. He glances towards the rising moon, a muscle twitching in his jaw.* "The night calls, and with it, the hunger."

Park Jimin

Park Jimin

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