somewhere I've seen you before

POV: Taehyung (Age 23)

Timeline: His 1st → 2nd week

Location: Bookstore, Rooftop Apartment

Season: Spring

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Taehyung wasn’t the kind of person who believed in fate.

But he did believe in patterns.

The way coffee always dripped a little too fast when he was late. The way his favorite sweater disappeared the one week he actually needed it. The way strangers looked at each other in passing — like some of them had known each other in a different lifetime, and just forgot to remember.

He had never believed in soulmates.

But something about that boy…

Was starting to unravel all his rules.

---

He hadn’t planned on going back to the bookstore. But that same tightness returned to his chest the morning after the station. A feeling like he’d misplaced something — or someone — and the only way to fix it was to retrace his steps.

And that bookstore… it felt like a step.

He went alone, as usual. Hoodie, sketchbook, earbuds in with no music playing.

There was something soothing about the place. Narrow aisles, creaky wood, the scent of old pages and candle wax. The kind of place where time didn’t run forward. It folded softly and sat down beside you.

He made his way to the art section. Then poetry. Then stopped near the journals.

And that’s when it happened.

---

Across the shelf, just for a blink—

there he was again.

The boy from the station.

Dark hair. Grey hoodie. That same quiet sadness.

His hand hovered over a copy of On Memory and Other Inheritances, as if he was deciding whether to open it — or burn it.

Taehyung’s heart jumped.

This was too much of a coincidence.

Or was it?

---

He couldn’t move at first. Could only watch.

His body didn’t trust his brain. Or maybe it was the other way around. But he stood frozen behind a stack of journals, breath stuck somewhere between his throat and chest.

He wanted to say something.

He wanted to know something.

But he didn’t get the chance.

Because just as their eyes met — the boy smiled.

Small. Quiet. Tragic.

Like he was saying goodbye without a word.

Then he turned and left.

Again.

---

Taehyung didn’t follow.

He should have.

But he didn’t.

He just stood there, staring at the empty space where the boy had been, the heat in his chest spreading like spilled ink.

He felt ridiculous.

What was he doing?

This wasn’t a movie.

This wasn’t fate.

It was probably just a coincidence.

Twice.

Right?

So why couldn’t he stop thinking about him?

---

That night, he found himself on the rooftop of his apartment building, sketchbook open on his knees, the city humming quietly below.

He hadn’t drawn all week. The pages were still blank.

He didn’t know where to begin anymore.

He flipped back to the station sketch — the first one — and stared at it like it might blink back.

The boy's eyes.

They still haunted him.

They weren’t just sad.

They were… remembering.

That was what unsettled him most.

How could someone look at you like they already knew the ending?

---

The wind picked up. He held the page down.

His fingers itched for movement, so he turned to a blank sheet and began sketching without thinking.

Not a face this time.

A place.

Bricks. Rusted pipes. Metal railing. Cracked cement tiles.

A rooftop.

And someone sitting there — hood up, back against the wall, arms wrapped around their knees.

He didn’t realize who it was until he finished the shape of the hands.

It was him.

The boy.

Alone.

---

He stared at it for a long time.

Then added a detail he didn’t understand:

A journal next to the boy’s foot, half open.

Blank, except for one line:

“This time… I hope you forget me first.”

Where did that come from?

He’d never heard that sentence before. Never read it. Never imagined it.

But somehow… it felt like a memory.

Like something that should have happened.

Like something that would.

---

He leaned back, closed the book, and stared up at the stars that had started poking through the haze of city light.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

The wind didn’t answer.

But he swore, just for a second—

it felt like someone was listening.

---

The next morning, he walked past the station again.

He didn’t mean to. Not really.

But he slowed near the platform. Eyes scanning. Half hoping.

Nothing.

He lingered. Waited for the next train. And the next.

But the boy never came.

And that’s when Taehyung realized the worst part:

He hadn’t even learned his name.

---

“I don’t know how to miss someone I’ve never had.

But it feels like losing him anyway.”

— Taehyung, Journal Entry

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