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~Gemma is an American photographer known for her unique work. Her talent is miraculously noticed by Entertainment Group BigHit. She immediately packs her bags for Seoul, South Korea, and doesn't think twice about signing the two-year contract. Well...Gem should have read the fine print. ~The contract requires Gemma, for exactly one year, to be the roommate and personal photographer for BTS member Kim Taehyung. A dream come true right? However, it would be nice to know this extremely important detail before she.... well, you'll just have to wait and see. ~Gem didn't expect a future of endless bickering to grant her her best friend, but destiny's a funny thing.

Romance / Humor
Age Rating:

Chapter 1~ Ⓢⓤⓡⓟⓡⓘⓢⓔ Ⓢⓤⓡⓟⓡⓘⓢⓔ

I stare at the white apartment door with punctual, expected nerves tingling up and down my body. At twenty-three years old, I finally had my own little home. I desperately wanted to enter, but a load of strange anxiety overcame me. Why was I so nervous you ask? Well, not only is this my first ever apartment, but my first apartment in an entirely foreign country, South Korea.

I arrived in Seoul about three and a half hours ago as a wide-eyed and bushy-tailed photographer, excited by the new world that brilliantly revealed itself in a numerous amount of ways. I was tempted into a little exploring, but eventually got lost thanks to my lack of map-reading skills. I ended up having to ask a tourist guide where my apartment building was located, and she kindly helped right away.

South Korea was a beautiful yet crowded country, and Seoul just happened to be the epicenter of all the commotion. I grew up in Ohio, so I was definitely not used to thousands of foreign people filling the streets, who stared at me with both curiosity and weariness.

Winter was currently in session, and let me tell you, lugging my baggage around in snow and on ice was not pleasant, despite the beautiful scenery.

As of right now, I am still rooted in front of the door. “Open the door idiot,” I mutter to myself, “You’ve been staring at it for so long it probably thinks you’re a creep.” Turning the key, I opened the door and was immediately washed over by sunlight pouring through a beautiful, arched window. I dragged my luggage into what looked like the living room, considering a couch, TV, and a complimenting rug occupied the-- um, wait. Where did all of this come from?

Last time I checked, apartments just came with toilets, doors, and other appliances. Definitely not an expensive 60-inch screen television and nice couches. In the kitchen to my right, three wooden stools stand against a gorgeous white counter with a sparkly red Poinsettia adorning its top. A stylish driftwood table paired with benches takes up space to the right of the kitchen.

Now I’m confused. And scared. Either I was given the wrong key and door number, or I accidentally missed the part in the contract about rooming with a co-worker. Stressing out only on the first day here? Check.

Okay, let’s take a breather and rewind. Step 1: Take a shower. Step 2: Call the landlord. Step 3. Next decision depends on what the landlord says.

I gathered my towel, clothes, and showering necessities, and headed on my journey to find the bathroom. As I neared the third door on the right, my ears perked at the sound of running water. What the...? My thoughts about entering the wrong apartment became more questionable. Nervous about the possibility that someone was in there, I held my shampoo bottle like a sword, armed for battle.

3..2..1.. I open the door with full force: “Hands up!” I shouted, violently waving my “weapon” around blindly. Hearing a loud gasp, I opened my eyes surprised. And in that very moment, as a startled face popped out from the shower curtain, I screamed. Loudly.

He screamed back.

Covering my eyes in a hurry, I hurl my towel in the guy’s assumed location, sprint out, and slam the door shut. I pressed my back against it, heart beating way over its speed limit.

I laughed nervously. “Am I imagining things or-” suddenly the door jerks open from behind, and I fall backward, slipping on my fuzzy socks. “Shit!” The abrupt collision sends him skidding on the wet bathroom floor, but not enough for him to fall. I catch myself from landing on my back.

Immediately getting up, I look at the mystery man. His bluish hair was matted down but fluffy at the same time, and my towel hung dangerously low on his hips. Time moved slowly. I analyzed his features for a split second when I realized. Oh. My. Goodness.

It’s Kim freaking Taehyung.

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