Taehyung

Paris had always had something magical about it, but that night the air smelled of secrets. The parade lights had gone out a few minutes ago, and only a few of us remained in the room, enveloped in murmurs and half-empty glasses.

You were there, in that red dress that seemed to defy the light, leaning against the wall, a glass of wine in your hand. You weren't even trying to hide it: you were looking at me, with that mixture of curiosity and defiance that has always characterized you.

I never thought I'd see you here , I said, breaking the silence, letting my voice carry more calm than I actually felt.

"And I never thought you'd dare to speak to me ," you reply, raising an eyebrow, bringing the glass to your lips with provocative slowness.

I smiled, barely. The world had painted us as enemies, as if our gangs were two kingdoms destined never to meet. But there we were, you and I, sharing an expensive wine on a street corner in Paris, while the city slept and our glances made more noise than any sound.

Perhaps, I thought, the most intense rivalries are born from what is most alike. And yes, maybe our fans hated each other, just like our groups and companies, being global artists, but I couldn't take my eyes off you tonight.