''The tantalizing sensation of holding your life in your hands.

The exhausting and infuriating pain that appeared whenever an obstacle got on your way.

How would you make the obstacle vanish into thin air?

Would you overcome it ?

Or would you simply... get it out of your way while using different means ?

Whatever you are about to attempt, be careful.

''I am obsessed with vinyl. I am fixated on both the music and the material...What are you obsessed with?''.

The bilious noise of his bell, pierced his ears and the man sighed in frustration. Second time someone is interrupting his writing process today. Taking his circular glasses off and placing them on the right side of the table, the writer stood up from his chair and put on his slippers. With slow steps he moved closer to his door and put his eye on the eyehole. The pizza man was covered from head to toe with scarfs, a coat and a beanie, his gloved hands trembling from the unbearable crisp of the merciless winter.

The man unlocked the door and instantly tightened the belt of his robe around his waist.

''Sorry for the delay Mr. Jeon. The traffic was...''.

''Don't worry. I had actually forgotten about my order'' he chuckled. ''Wait here until I find my wallet. I am sure I must have left it upstairs''.

''I will wait here then sir'' the man spoke, his voice barely audible under his knitted scarf.

''Oh please, come inside. You must be freezing'' Jungkook urged the man to come inside. The man hesitantly stepped inside and placed the pizzas on the table. He just sat there trying to be as judicious as he could.

Jungkook ran upstairs and began to search for his wallet. As a person who didn't really enjoy being outdoors, he never had his wallet thrown in a bag or the chest pocket of his jackets. After a quick pursuit, he found the item somewhere between his bed sheets- reasonable outcome of yesterday's night- and climbed down the stairs. The man hadn't moved an inch, his fingers playing with the tassels of his scarf.

''Sorry I kept you waiting. Here... keep the change'' Jungkook smiled and handed the cash to the man.

''Thank you Mr. Jeon. Hope you enjoy'' he murmured and made his way outside.

Jungkook almost pitied the boy. Driving his car in the middle of a blizzard, just to satisfy the crapulous appetites of people he didn't even know.

Pouring himself a glass of red wine, Jungkook sat back on his chair, feeling that all his ideas had jumped out of his mind, turning him back to point zero. He was so zealous to create something award-worthy, something that will make people remember his name for the present and for many years to come. His previous book was considered a masterpiece, a sagacious piece of art summarized between six hundred pages. He was just nineteen and he had the entire world bowing on his behalf.

And within a matter of seconds, he was a nobody again.

Someone better, someone more experienced surpassed him. And author after author kept on writing and writing, brainstorming the most wonderful ideas, leaving Jungkook fade into the sands of time as a memory of something that was once valuable. Of something once people remembered.

Four years had passed and Jungkook still hadn't managed to finish a second novel. Ideas were flooding his mind non stop and without further delay Jungkook had tried to put them into words. But he always found faults. The beginning or the ending, the hero or the villain, everything had defects. And as the perfectionist he was, the twenty- three year old hated flaws.

His typewriter, a gift from his late mother, was patiently waiting on his desk, eager to be used and produce words and notions. But unfortunately for the man he had nothing innovative, nothing pioneering to show to the world outside of his imagination.

Grabbing a slice of pizza, he placed a vinyl record on his turntable, the exquisite melody of the ''Four seasons'' calming him down. He searched for his cigarettes, the box somewhere between his pillows. Despite his perfectionism, Jungkook hated cleaning. Yes, his clothes were neatly folded and spattered with cologne. Yes, his entire house was clean, not a speck of dust could be found. Yet when it came to cigarettes and money, Jungkook could never pinpoint where he exactly saw them last.

He brought the cigarette to his lips and lit the tip with his lighter. He released a thick cloud of smoke and placed the stick on the silver ashtray he had on his table. The place screamed loneliness during the day, yet a different sound was escaping Jungkook's chambers during the black-clad nights.

Tonight however Jungkook decided not to call him. He didn't want the man to think that Jungkook depended on him for pleasure and sexual satisfaction. With his cigarette in one hand and with his other palm slowly making his way into his boxers, Jungkook came to the decision that self indulgence was the only solution. No catching feelings and not spending money.

At least for tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

''I thought you would have something ready by now'' the handsome male stated when he saw the empty pages that were scattered on Jungkook's table.

''Everything seems incomplete in my head Jin. All the characters, the plot...everything is too simple. I always focused on complicated storylines'' the raven haired uttered with disappointment.

''Why don't you focus on one character?'' Jin asked and saw the man raising an eyebrow.

Kim Seokjin, twenty eight years old, an extremely handsome and knowledgeable man. However, this is all the information Jungkook had for the said man. Ergo, he didn't trust him completely. He once met Jin in a bar and apparently the older lived very close to him. Jungkook hadn't yet visited Jin's residence but considering the man's lavish style, his abode was anything but humble.

The steely-eyed man was comfortably sitting on the velveteen armchair, a cup of hot chocolate warming up his cold palms. Averting his gaze from the beverage back to the younger he continued his thinking.

''Write a monologue. Focus on one's character point of view'' he suggested and his mouth curved into a smile.

''Isn't this a little jejune? You know, tedious ? Why would someone read an adventure where only one person participates in it?'' Jungkook inquired, a look of confusion painted over his coal eyes.

''Not if you write something intriguing. You shall try to make a character with many sides, a person with many mistakes and many faults. Someone who despite his terrible fate is still lovable and unique. Monologues don't have to be dull'' he added and gave his friend a lopsided grin.

''My previous book involved a plethora of characters. You are asking me to do a one hundred and eighty turn here'' he laughed and his nose crinkled.

''Oh Jungkook, Jungkook...You are supposed to be an author. An artist. You should be able to try new things, innovative methods. You can do it, I believe in you'' the older commented and continued to sip on his liquid.

Oddly Jungkook could sense a slight tension between them, some sort of unwanted imposition. Well, in spite of his profession the man was awful when it came to understanding people's feelings or even worse; glances. Nevertheless, the friendly smile on Seokjin's face was somehow interpretted as something suspicious in Jungkook's head.

''I... I will think about it. Thank you Jin'' he remarked and his hand reached for the pack of cigarettes.

''My pleasure. And please quit this habit or at least narrow it down. I am worried for your health'' he pleaded and stood up. He grabbed his woolen cardigan and wore it around his broad shoulders. He tied the scarf around his neck and playfully punched Jungkook's arm.

''I have to go, I am working really late tomorrow morning. Tell me if you make any progress , okay ?''.

''Sure, I will have you informed'' he muttered and waved at Jin who was already out of the door.

Jungkook drew his lower lip between his teeth and twirled the cigarette between his fingers. He remembered how peeled the skin of his fingertips looked after he had finished his last and sadly only book. The endless hours of editing and countless nights of spending his time over a screen. Using another means of writing would surely come in handy. He fixed on his glasses and put the gasper betwixt his lips.

He sat on his chair and opened the typewriter in front of him. The keys on the machine were talking to him, calling him to press on each and every of them in order to create something new and entrepreneurial. But he didn't know where to start from...

So he just left the cigarette hung between his lips and allowed his imagination to run wild, his fingers dancing on the keyboard as if a ballerina was doing multiple pirouettes. Like pretty edelweiss the words bloomed with his escapism and slowly his story began to take the form of a man.

The figure just jumped in the jungle of his fecund mind and sluggishly, with steady movements the twenty three year old thought of his first line. The first line that would unknowingly alter his life. Forever.

Only a name.

He had to think of a name.

A name that looked like liquid gold, trapped in a glass bottle. A name that sounded like the mellifluous music escaping from his vintage vinyl. A name that would make men and women melt. A name as comely as the person that will bear it.

A name that sounded pure but held the bridles of sin.