He lay there miserable for several minutes. Where was she? She’d been gone a long time. Had something happened to her? He looked around, but he was surrounded by darkness punctuated by occasional mounds of deeper darkness: a tree stretching its branches toward the night sky, a bush squatting down for the night, some other undefinable object appearing menacing now that the light of day had faded away. He thought of her lying alone, injured in the street somewhere. Needing help. But no one was there. He couldn’t take it. He had to find her.
He stood up, wrapping the blanket around his half-naked shoulders. It was starting to get cooler, a bit of a chill creeping into the air. Clutching the blanket about his person, he limped toward her vehicle. He finally came across her, sitting in her car. He sighed with relief. She was all right. But why was she hiding in her car? He had really scared her. He felt instant remorse.
“Je suis désolé.”
She had rolled the window down for air flow. Jimin’s whispered words floated to her, and she opened tear-filled eyes.
“I’m sorry. Did I scare you back there? I swear I won’t touch you. Just please, please don’t leave me. I hate being alone.” His voice caught, and she realized he was about to cry.
Her heart turned over in her chest. If she were honest, she once again would have to admit that she was extremely attracted to him. It was even more obvious with him standing before her. And it scared her. A lot. She’d just met him, and he’d be leaving France in a couple of days. The last thing she needed was to get entangled with some gorgeous superstar who would forget her name in another week.
Yet here he was not acting like a typical, tough guy. He was begging her to stay with him. So strange. Was this some game he was playing to get her to let her guard down?
“You really don’t know anything about me, do you?” he asked suddenly.
“What do you mean?” she responded, puzzled.
“I live with six other guys. Everyone has their own room, except for me and Hobi. We share one…because I hate being alone. He took pity on me and became my roommate because he knows I’m happier around other people.”
She pondered this for a moment. “Why do you hate being alone?”
Had anyone ever asked him that? “I… I don’t know.”
“Is it because your thoughts run wild?”
His ankle was really starting to hurt again, and he cringed from the pain. She noticed.
“Your ankle! I’m so sorry! Here. Come sit down in the other seat!”
He walked around the car and got in as she unlocked the door. He was still thinking about her question. Did his thoughts run wild?
“What do you mean?” he asked her.
She shook her head. Really! Was she going to let him know everything going on inside her head?!
“It’s nothing.” Truly curious now, she repeated her question. “Why do you hate being alone?”
He thought back to his adolescence. To his life before Tae befriended him and came to his rescue. About the fear of other boys that he had tried unsuccessfully to block from his consciousness. He swallowed hard before speaking.
“It might be because when I was younger, I was mercilessly bullied by the boys at my school. They hated me for being different. For having different dreams than they did. If I was alone, I was more susceptible to being attacked.”
She sat, stunned. Here was this gorgeous, strong guy sitting next to her. She could feel the masculinity his lithe body exuded. She rather suspected that, in addition to having the frame of a slender body builder and dancer, he was probably quite skilled at some martial art, like taekwondo. Yet the fears of the defenseless boy he had once been still unconsciously affected him today. He abhorred being alone with his thoughts. He could still hear those threatening taunts and see those jealous faces.
It made her very sad. She loved to be alone for long stretches of time. When she was alone, she knew she was safe. And it’s when she got her best work done. No distractions. She could simply let the creativity flow through her fingertips. A gift God had given her to bless the world and warm His own heart.
She looked at Jimin. He had such a gift too, only his communicated itself through his feet and his limbs and his voice box. She didn’t like the idea that he might believe in even the slightest measure that his beautiful gift was actually a curse sent to separate him from other guys in order to torment him. Just because he felt joy in dancing and wanted to release that happiness on others didn’t make him weird. It made him a showcase of God’s own glory. But mortal men often missed the beauty of the image in which they’d been created. That image was released in manifold forms. Sometimes in the strength of a football player. Other times in the perfect control of a ballet dancer. Certainly, in the precious face of every single newborn baby gracing the world for the very first time with his or her presence. They were all priceless. Each and every single one. Most certainly, the grown man sitting next to her.
But right now, he didn’t seem like a grown man. For she could feel the grieving heart of the lost, little boy on the inside of him. Without thinking, she turned towards him, and words just flowed through her lips.
“Jimin. You’re strong. You’re beautiful. You’re everything you need to be. You’re walking out the incredible gift you’ve been given. If it separates you from others, it’s because you were given it for a purpose beyond the normal. You were given a subtle power to use for good, to reach others with love. The world often hates what it doesn’t have and can’t understand. And can’t control. But that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.
“You’ve been given a stage for a reason. So rather than ponder all the stupid things those ruthless boys said to you back then – and did to you?” She glanced at him, questioning. “Consider the reason that you’re on that stage. Ponder your purpose. Why have you been given such power? And what are you going to do with it?”
Wow. This girl was deep. Maybe she could write him some lyrics. He could see only the outline of her face in the car. He wanted to see her eyes. He wished he’d seen the look in those gloriously green pools when she’d called him beautiful.
She’d pronounced him beautiful. That declaration had washed over his heart like a healing balm.
“Do you really think I’m beautiful?”
Her artist’s eye answered without knowing that she was echoing his very own words. “I think, Jimin, that you are lovely.”
