Thunder.G

🌙 pretty moon dividers 🌙

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a/n: This is literally the longest thing I've ever written in my life ._. I really tried to do my best, I got the idea after seeing the Winter ahead teaser and I really wanted to write it (even though I thought it was going to take much longer). I wanted to give a special thanks to @thunderg, @kookiewithluv and @angellekookie for helping me with the revision, they are the best moots in the world, I adore them, I really don't think I could have finished it without their opinions :(

Resume: You and Taehyung had a passing relationship four years ago, a relationship that felt like a hurricane; fleeting, sweeping, destructive. You had left a mark on him, one that, even as the years passed, was still present, and, no matter what he did, it seemed unwilling to go away.

Warnings: It has quite a bit of angst, Taehyung at one point acts like an idiot, time shifts between the present and four years earlier, most of the shot is focused on Tae's point of view.

WC: 16.9k

Taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss @yooglefics @zent9

Dividers: @thecutestgrotto

Taehyung stared fixedly at the sculpture in front of him, from the shape of its eyes to the soft curve of its lips. It was just like you, so much so that he could almost imagine the sparkle in your eyes and the sound of your laugh. He clenched his jaw as flashes of the days he had spent by your side returned to his memory—those times when you stayed up late kissing until your lips ached, or those afternoons when you went for walks on the beach to get some fresh air. It was unfair, it was painful, and perhaps the worst part was that it was his fault.

He set aside his chisel, never taking his eyes off the perfectly polished face of the one he was sure was the love of his life. He wasn’t going to gain anything by recalling the past, by getting stuck in the “what ifs” that had tormented him these past few years, he knew that. But then, why? Why was it so hard to stop thinking about you? About your voice, your touch, the way you loved so selflessly and intensely, simply... you.

"Taehyung, the exhibition is about to start. Are you ready?" Jiwon asked, crossing her arms as she leaned her shoulder against the doorframe. Her navy blue suit and the firm tie of her hair contrasted completely with the casual image she usually projected. He couldn’t help but feel a little relief as he realized his best friend took her work seriously, that maybe he wasn’t as alone as he thought, as alone as he felt inside.

"I think so..." he murmured, untangling the linen apron with clumsy movements before walking to her side. "What about you? Are you ready?"

"Already ready for more than an hour," she muttered quietly, too distracted by the sculpture behind him to really answer as she should. "It’s her, right? The woman you’ve been crying over for... I don’t know, three years?" She walked closer to the sculpture, studying its features. The delicate way in which Taehyung had captured her essence, as though he had poured his heart and soul into polishing every tiny detail of her. He had probably succeeded because even she, someone who was a zero at anything unrelated to science—and emotions in general—could feel a pressure in her chest looking at your face. "She’s beautiful... I understand why it hurts so much to have lost her." She shoved her hands in her pockets and turned to him.

"It was four years, Jiwon, and no, it’s not just ‘beautiful’, she is—" He protested, clenching his fists at his sides, his gaze fixed on your face—or rather, on the portrait of it. "She’s much more than a pretty face. You never knew her, you never did, so don’t talk about her like that."

Jiwon raised an eyebrow, a mocking smile crossing her face. "Oh, seems like I struck a nerve. Did you remember something interesting?"

Taehyung swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t like talking about you; actually, he hated when others talked about you, at least when they hadn’t had the chance to get to know you the way he had. When he had presented his exhibition with the 38 pieces he had created with you as his muse. Just like him, everyone was captivated by your beauty. It was weeks of the newspapers asking him about you, his new muse, talking about you as though they knew who you were, investigating tirelessly to find you. He hated it. With the bad taste left by Jiwon’s comment, he took a silk veil to cover the sculpture with as much care as possible, convincing himself that, in some way, covering your face would protect you from prying eyes. But he hadn’t counted on the fact that through the silk veil, the silhouette of your face still stared at him, as if reminding him that some wounds couldn’t be hidden by the finest fabric. Perhaps he didn’t miss company so much, at least not Jiwon’s.

"Let’s get out of here, please," he murmured, leaving the studio as quickly as his feet would allow him. The pain in his chest grew more unbearable, the nausea soon followed, and the discomfort was hard to ignore. He didn’t know how much longer he could endure it like this, but it definitely wouldn’t be much longer.

While Taehyung hurried out, Jiwon remained in the doorway, staring fixedly at the statue now covered by the veil. Unlike what Taehyung thought, she had known her—perhaps even longer than she could confess to her friend. She took the door handle, giving the space one last look. She stopped for a few seconds, clearing her mind. The uncertainty and guilt that had haunted her for the past four years were becoming harder to bear. She kept telling herself she was doing this for his sake, or at least that’s what she kept telling herself. She clenched her jaw as she closed the door, as if doing so could choke the memories that threatened to suffocate her too, trying to leave that bitter love behind with the hundreds of portraits, photographs, and sculptures Taehyung had refused to display.

"Seriously, you couldn’t look more pathetic," Jiwon murmured, sitting relaxed in one of the beach chairs Taehyung had in the backyard of his house—mansion. The warm sun embraced her semi-naked skin, covered by a black swimsuit that accentuated her figure perfectly. Thick sunglasses rested on the bridge of her nose, protecting her eyes from the scorching summer sun, while her blonde hair fell softly over her shoulders. Jiwon was, in simple terms, a beautiful woman. But her sarcastic, insensitive, and rough attitude drove away almost everyone around her. Taehyung was one of the few exceptions.

"What are you doing in my house?" Taehyung grunted, ruffling his hair as he lay down on the grass, his brown eyes fixed on the crystal-clear water of the pool. The soft itch from the grass against his bare skin made him feel a little better, a little more alive. Why did it affect him so much that Joohyun left him? Well, maybe the fact that they had been together for five years, that she had been his muse since he met her, and that she left him right when he asked her to marry him, explained the intense pain in his chest. "You should, I don’t know... do whatever it is that family business owners do, like ruining one of your employee’s lives or marrying your secretary."

"Nah, that’s boring. Besides, Jungkook isn’t my type," she murmured lazily, the summer sun burning her eyes through her sunglasses. The sensation soon began to relax her, to the point of feeling her eyelids fall involuntarily. "Now, what are you going to do with your work? You have an exhibition in eight months and you’ve barely managed to do anything other than cry over some brainless girl."

Taehyung frowned, turning to look at Jiwon. Her mocking smile and sarcastic tone fit perfectly with her attitude. They had been friends for over ten years, and he still didn’t understand why they remained friends. With the urge to throw a beach chair at her head still bubbling inside, he stood up from the ground and walked toward her, approaching with firm steps.

"Joohyun wasn’t a brainless girl. She was my girlfriend, my muse, and without her..." He paused for a moment, staring at the sky barely covered by clouds. Something in his throat was choking him. "Without her, I’m nothing."

"Oh, please, stop being so pathetic." Jiwon reclined back in her chair, taking off her sunglasses and throwing them somewhere on the floor. Her expression, though slightly furrowed, was filled with disdain, and one of her eyebrows rose inquisitively. "Since when do you feel sorry for a woman? There are hundreds of thousands of women out there who are way more interesting, beautiful, and fun than that bitch."

"Stop calling her that, Jiwon," he said sternly, clenching his teeth to avoid exploding. He didn’t like her talking about Joohyun like that, even though he knew Jiwon had no filter for her opinions. He had always been aware of Jiwon’s coldness when it came to emotional matters, especially love, but that didn’t stop the pain her words caused every time they pierced him. Part of him knew what Jiwon said was true, but another part, the bigger part, refused to accept it. He preferred to live in a world as beautiful as his works than face the harsh reality.

"I’m just telling the truth. She cheated on you more than once, took advantage of your money, and was obsessed with being the star of your works. She practically made you dependent on her!" She moved a little closer, gently tapping his forehead. "Trust me, there are a lot of beautiful girls out there who could be your muse. Just... I don’t know... go look for one."

Taehyung looked at his best friend’s impassive face, the calm in her blue eyes, as cold as ice. She would never understand him. No matter how hard she tried, Jiwon would never feel art and love the way he did. Her view was objective, superficial. And that was exactly what he needed at that moment.

"Ugh, I’d forgotten how loud these events could be," Taehyung muttered, walking with his head down, heading directly to the exhibition hall. The cream-colored hallways adorned with hundreds of high-quality paintings and sculptures made Taehyung feel as if he were at home—or at least that’s how it had been for a long time, before he met you. He still felt a certain warmth in these kinds of places, but something inside him twisted every time he stepped into a museum. It was hard to feel whole when you had lost someone you felt so drawn to.

"It’s because you’re here, stirring up the hormones of the women artists," Jiwon murmured, walking slowly, taking her time to appreciate the art around her. Unlike Taehyung, she had never sympathized with art. She didn’t understand why people admired it so much, nor did she understand how it could generate such strong emotions with just one look. But she knew he liked it, and that was more than enough to spare a few hours of her life to accompany him to exhibitions.

"Of course not, that’s—" His feet came to a sudden stop when he noticed a large painting on the far wall. At first, his mind refused to accept what he was seeing. He blinked, trying to convince himself it was a coincidence, an illusion… But every detail brought him back to that night. And then, the weight of reality fell on him, crushing him. He remembered that moment as if it were yesterday—the cold night breeze on the beach, the smell of salt, the sand against his toes, you… It didn’t take long before he felt the knot forming in his throat, growing until it made it hard to speak and breathe. That white dress with blue reflections, your long, dark hair, the moon, the night,… everyhing came back to him like pieces of a broken mirror, cutting his heart with every little shard he tried to visualize.

It wasn’t just a painting. It was the only time he had captured something more than the beauty of a muse; he had painted the love he felt, without masks or artifices. That painting was a secret, a silent confession he never intended to share.

"Oh, I don’t remember seeing this one among the pieces you submitted," Jiwon said, walking closer to read the title. "Muse?" Taehyung’s heart stopped the moment he heard those words leave Jiwon’s lips. He didn’t want that painting to be displayed; he didn’t want anyone else to see it, for anyone else to feel what he felt that night. He didn’t want to share that moment so intimate, so important to him, to both of you.

Every brushstroke was an unspoken word, an echo of that night he could never relive. How could he share it? How could he allow someone else to interpret it, feel it, judge it? With the little strength he had left, he looked at the figure of the young woman in the painting, and with a trembling hand pressed to his aching chest, he murmured, "Ask them to take it down. Now." His voice cracked as he clenched his fist against his chest, as if trying to contain something that was about to break. "I don’t want… I can’t see it here."

Despite the pain the painting caused him, he seemed incapable of looking away from it, from you. He didn’t understand—how had it ended up here? He was certain he had left it with the rejected pieces. He had spent four years hiding it from the view of any intruder, never showing it to anyone—so how?

While Taehyung wrestled with himself, trying to figure out how the painting had ended up in the exhibition, Jiwon focused on studying him, every little gesture he made. She noticed how his lips pressed into a thin line, how his chest rose and fell irregularly, how his hands trembled slightly at his sides, and, finally, how his eyes seemed to be covered by a sheen of water, on the verge of spilling a bitter tear.

It was only when a single tear traced down his cheek that guilt overwhelmed her. She pressed her lips together, her thoughts clashing against each other. She had thought displaying it would give Taehyung a push, a way to force him to stop running from his own feelings. But now, seeing his reaction, she wasn’t so sure. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to present that painting at the exhibition.

The soft night breeze elegantly tousled Taehyung’s hair, a stark contrast to his bare feet resting on the sand. The cigarette between his lips and the taste of nicotine made a feeble, almost miserable, attempt to ease the pressure on his chest. The memory of Joohyun still lingered in his mind, every time he closed his eyes, every time he picked up a brush. Frustration began to irritate him, and he still had only seven and a half months left to present his exhibition.

“You shouldn’t do that, it’s bad for you,” murmured a soft voice behind him. Silent footsteps beside him made him turn to see who was interrupting his negative thoughts, but even after being able to put a face to the mysterious voice, he couldn’t say anything. Every word, every thought, absolutely everything seemed to vanish the moment their gazes met.

There was a woman next to him, slightly younger than him. She wore a white dress, very similar to the one a bride would wear on her special day. Her dark, long hair rested delicately against her back and hips, and her large, bright eyes perfectly reflected the moonlight. Every feature he focused on made her seem even more ethereal. He had never felt anything so sudden since the first time he took a brush in his hand.

“Are you okay?” the young woman murmured, her brow furrowing slightly as she tilted her head to better observe Taehyung’s face, as if looking for any wounds or signs of pain. There was something about her that made the pain disappear from his chest.

“Who are you?” he managed to say after what felt like an eternity. The cigarette he had between his lips had long since fallen to the ground, forgotten entirely thanks to the almost angelic presence of the girl.

“Me?” she pointed to herself, her eyes reflecting incredulity and confusion, emotions that lasted only an instant, for she almost immediately gifted him one of the purest and gentlest smiles he had ever seen in his life. “My name is Y/N, Y/L/N Y/N.”

“Y/N…” he murmured softly, taking in every detail of her face. The way her eyes reflected the light of the stars, how the night breeze tousled her hair, how her very presence seemed to calm the pain that had darkened his days for months. For the first time since Joohyun’s rejection, Taehyung felt inspired, as if, after months of drowning in a sea of tears, his lifeline had arrived, the one thing that could pull him from his misery. A new muse. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes, of course! Ask me,” she tilted her head slightly, ready to listen to whatever the stranger had to say. You would lie if you said you weren’t nervous about speaking to him, not only because he was a complete stranger and could very well be a lunatic - although you were sure he wasn’t - but there was something about him, perhaps the way his eyes seemed so lost, or his melancholic aura that drew your attention, urging you to get closer to him, to understand why he seemed so… lost.

“Could you… could you be my model?” Taehyung wasn’t an insecure person and rarely justified what he said or did, but for some reason, he immediately felt the need to justify why he was asking her, a girl he had never seen before in his life, to be his model. “I don’t want you to misunderstand me, I’m not a creep or anything like that,” he hurried to say, feeling a wave of heat flood his face. “I-I’m an artist, I do paintings and sometimes photographs…” he shifted in place, anxiety gnawing at him. He licked his inner lip, taking a breath before continuing. “I have an exhibition in seven months and… the woman I was working with, my model, quit some time ago and seriously, seriously, I need someone to help me and you are…” he stopped again, his heart skipping a beat as he looked at her face again, “you’re beautiful…”

“Oh…” you said softly, feeling your cheeks warm faster than you’d like to admit. For a man as handsome as him - because yes, he was very attractive - to say that about you was… overwhelming. Even though your impulsive side, the more romantic one, screamed yes, your rational side made you reflect a little before accepting. You didn’t know him, you didn’t know his name, you had no way of knowing if it was true, and you didn’t plan on putting yourself in danger unnecessarily. “Do you have any proof that what you’re saying is true?”

“Well…” he put his hands in his pockets. He didn’t want her to see how they had been trembling from the nervousness of whether she would say yes or no. “I can tell you my artist name and, you know, you could look up my work. You don’t have to say yes now, you can take your time to think about it,” he pulled out a piece of paper from the back pocket of his pants, an old supermarket receipt he had forgotten to throw away in the past. He stretched it as much as he could, and once it was more… presentable, he wrote a series of numbers on it along with the name Vante. ‘I hope this doesn’t make me look crazy,’ he thought, ‘but I can’t let this opportunity slip away.’ “Here, this is my number and my artist name. If you like the idea, don’t hesitate to contact me.”

“Thank you… I’ll look it up when I get back to my hotel,” you murmured, looking at the messy, hurried writing with a smile. His strange way of giving you his contact information might have made you a little fond of him, but you definitely wouldn’t tell him that. It would be a secret kept only for you.

“So… why do you want that painting removed?” Jiwon stood her ground, ignoring Taehyung’s request. Her playful gaze had vanished a few seconds ago, replaced by an unusual seriousness. Her hands rested casually in her pants pockets, and her gaze, now cold and calculating, stayed fixed on her friend. “Why does her memory torment you so much, Taehyung? What happened between you two?”

Taehyung, for his part, remained looking down, incapable of facing the painting, incapable of reliving the moment that would change his life forever—something he had labeled his “point of no return.” He didn’t want to be interrogated, didn’t want to answer questions about her, didn’t feel capable of doing so without breaking down into inconsolable tears.

“It’s been almost four years, Tae,” Jiwon murmured, her voice so soft that, if he didn’t know her, he wouldn’t believe it was the same person. “You won’t achieve anything by keeping all of this inside… I want to help you, but I can’t if you don’t open up to me.”

Taehyung sighed, ruffling his hair in a futile attempt to shake off the frustration weighing on him. He knew she was right; he knew he had to be honest, to tell the truth, but the memories were so painful, so unbearable.

“Tae… please.” Jiwon tried to meet his eyes, her pleading gaze fixed on his now-disheveled hair.

There were a few moments of silence, seconds in which they both seemed to be debating how to proceed. On one hand, Taehyung wanted to open up to her, to tell her the truth about what happened between him and her. Jiwon, on the other hand, seemed to be debating internally whether to keep pushing or simply let it go and wait for another moment, wait until he was ready to take that step on his own.

It was just when Jiwon opened her mouth to say she’d go talk to have the painting removed that Taehyung’s voice interrupted her. “It was my fault…” he murmured in a low, trembling voice, barely holding back tears. “She… she left because of me, Jiwon. I ruined it… and I’m not even sure if I’ll ever have another chance to see her again.”

With soft yet determined steps, Jiwon approached Taehyung, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him close, letting his forehead rest on her shoulder. She ran her hand through his dark hair, sighing as she felt her shirt grow damp from his tears. She lifted her gaze, noticing the large ostentatious chandelier above them. It was a trivial detail; she’d seen it hundreds of times and never paid attention to it. But now, in this moment, with the uncertainty of not knowing how to console her friend, the crystal design of that pretentious object helped her stay distracted, to maintain the calm she was known for.

“It’s okay… it’ll be okay. Whatever happened, you can’t keep carrying it alone. I’m here, do you understand? No matter how much time has passed, you don’t have to face this on your own,” she murmured softly, feeling Taehyung’s hands grip her like his life depended on it.

“If only I had… If only I’d been different, if I’d been better, maybe she’d still be here. But I hurt her. I made her leave.” The weight of his words seemed to crush him further, his voice trembling as if even the air itself refused to cooperate. He kept his head down, unable to face Jiwon’s eyes, afraid of finding pity or judgment there.

Jiwon had known Taehyung for years, had seen every side of him and accepted them all without question, because it was those very facets that made Taehyung the man he was—her best friend. However, seeing Taehyung break down like this hurt her more than any other negative trait she had witnessed in him. This time felt different; this time it felt like there was nothing she could do to help him, and that unsettled her deeply.

She wanted to find the right words, something that could take away at least a fraction of the pain that seemed to be consuming him. But all she could do was hold him, because sometimes, words weren’t enough; sometimes, all it took was silence and a warm embrace, letting them release their pain on your shoulder and simply being the handkerchief for their tears.

You walked into Taehyung’s studio, taking in the walls covered in artwork, many of them featuring Joohyun. A framed photograph caught your attention: Joohyun in an elegant, confident pose, with an air of near-unattainable perfection. A knot formed in your stomach at the thought that you could never measure up.

“She wasn’t perfect. I just learned how to capture her that way,” Taehyung murmured, almost as if sensing your unease and insecurity about his proposal.

You gave him a nervous smile, telling yourself this couldn’t go too badly... though deep down, you felt like you’d already failed before you even started. “Are you sure this is going to work?” you murmured as you watched Taehyung shuffle his things around in a clumsy and overly rushed manner.

You had contacted him the following day, still uncertain about the idea of being his model. The paintings you’d seen, the photos and sculptures—everything was truly beautiful, just like the woman who had taken on the role of Taehyung’s former model. It made your anxiety grow even more. What if his audience didn’t like his new muse—you? What if you couldn’t measure up? How were you supposed to pose? What expression should you wear?

Taehyung set his canvas in front of you, moving around the room in search of the perfect angle, muttering to himself all the while. “Relax,” he said without looking directly at you, his hands busy adjusting the lights and his materials. “I don’t need a professional. I just need someone who can give me back the inspiration I thought I’d lost. Difficult? Yes. But not for you.”

A soft blush spread across your cheeks, and you quickly lowered your gaze, embarrassed. You had no idea why you had agreed to this, but when you saw the bright spark in Taehyung’s eyes as he asked—begged—you to be his model, his muse, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no.

Your eyes fell on one of the photographs resting near the easel. Once again, it was Joohyun with her impeccable posture and piercing gaze, seemingly staring at you, judging you from afar. You tried to avoid catching your reflection in the nearby window, but you couldn’t stop the thought: How am I supposed to live up to this?

“But I’m not a model... I’m going to be so stiff,” you said quietly as Taehyung gently guided you to the exact spot where you were supposed to sit. Your heart raced every time you felt his presence close to you, his touch, his gaze. You were so deeply captivated by his passion for art that it was almost impossible not to feel your small, fragile heart overflow with anxiety, fear, and excitement whenever you saw him.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to be a model to be someone’s muse,” he chuckled softly, seating you in front of the grand piano in his spacious home. He stepped back to where his canvas and paints were, feeling the inspiration he thought he’d lost rushing back to him in a flood of emotions he didn’t fully understand—and, for the moment, didn’t care to.

All he needed was to complete a total of ten paintings—just ten. The other works would be divided into photographs and sculptures, most of which were already nearly finished. He only had to focus on his craft, on taking advantage of the inspiration that had returned to him thanks to you, and simply… paint.

“So… do I just sit here doing nothing?” you asked curiously, lifting your hands until your delicate fingers hovered over the piano keys. You liked music and, along with it, instruments. You’d taken piano lessons as a child, so you had some skill, and playing might help calm your nerves.

“You can play something if you want…” he murmured, fumbling with his charcoal pencils, desperate to get something onto the canvas, eager to capture your beauty with his own hands. He wanted—no, needed—the world to see you, and not through just anyone’s eyes. He wanted everyone to see you the way he did: as his salvation.

“Oh… okay.” From your spot, you could see him: the concentration on his face, the way his fingers moved clumsily among the pencils and charcoal. There was something hypnotic about his passion, the way his entire world seemed to revolve around a canvas. And for a moment, you wished to be more than just his muse. Shaking your head in an attempt to dismiss the thought, you turned back to the piano, pausing for a few seconds before beginning to play a soft melody that Taehyung recognized as River Flows in You.

The anxiety he had felt, the desperation to create something at that very moment, dissipated. He still wanted to paint the scene before him—there was no doubt about that—but he no longer trembled as he picked up his pencil. His heart didn’t race wildly. It was simply… you, him, and the sound of the piano keys filling the silence between you as Taehyung immortalized the moment.

After a few minutes, Taehyung paused to observe the scene before him: your gentle gaze fixed on the piano keys, your lips slightly pursed in concentration, your hands moving fluidly to the romantic yet melancholic rhythm of the song. It was like a scene from a movie made just for him, reflecting both his pain and his fortune.

“Wait, turn a bit to the left… No, not that much.” His voice was calm, but you could see the tension in his furrowed brow. You tried to follow his instructions, though every small movement felt more awkward than the last. You were starting to get nervous, and it showed. “Like this?”

“Yes… yes, that’s good,” he replied, but his tone was distracted, his gaze fixed on the canvas as if trying to solve a puzzle. You knew something was still bothering him, but you didn’t have the courage to ask again—not when your nerves felt so raw.

For a moment, he lifted his eyes from the canvas and looked at you. His gaze was intense, as if trying to find something he still couldn’t capture on paper. “You’re fine,” he said softly, more to himself than to you, before returning to his work.

His comment threw you off a little, distracting you from your task. A sharp, wrong note echoed in the room, and your cheeks flushed immediately. Were the stars aligned today just to embarrass you?

“That was… unexpected,” Taehyung said with a soft laugh.

“Sorry, I was thinking about something else,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

“Don’t apologize. It makes it more… real,” he said, his lips curving into a smile that managed to soothe your anxiety, if only a little. “I never thought something as simple as a piano could look so…” Taehyung trailed off, his voice fading into the sound of his pencil against the paper.

“So what?” you whispered. For some reason, your heart raced with anticipation for whatever he was about to say.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied quickly, but his cheeks held a faint blush. He set his pencil aside and leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting between the canvas and you. You could feel his scrutiny, but this time, it didn’t make you feel insecure. There was something different in his eyes, something you couldn’t decipher.

Taehyung didn’t realize it, but in that moment, his eyes met yours. It lasted only seconds but felt like an eternity. Something in his expression made your chest tighten: was it admiration? Gratitude?

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper that hung in the air between you. His gaze remained locked on yours, dark and deep, as if searching for something he didn’t even know he’d lost.

In that moment, the world seemed to stop—there was no piano, no paintings, just the weight of his gaze anchoring you to the ground.

His hand, stained with charcoal, rested gently on yours with a softness that surprised you. It was a strange contrast: his fingers strong but trembling slightly, as if holding himself back from gripping you tighter. Something in your chest twisted—a mix of fear and hope—and for one brief, eternal moment, it felt as if the walls between you both had crumbled.

But the moment broke as quickly as it had come. Taehyung withdrew his hand, his expression closing off again as he stepped away. He gathered his materials with studied calm, as if nothing had happened. But you knew it had meant everything; you wanted it to mean everything.

Even as Taehyung distanced himself, you remained at the piano, letting the melody flow naturally from your fingers. But your mind? Your mind was elsewhere. You couldn’t stop wondering why such a simple gesture affected you so deeply, why your heart raced every time he looked at you. Your reflection in the piano’s glossy surface stared back at you, confused and almost lost. To him, this was just work. But to you… what was all of this to you? What were you feeling? The answer scared you, but at the same time, it filled you with something new, something you couldn’t define.

"Are you feeling better?" Jiwon murmured, holding a bottle of water up to his face. She would be lying if she said she didn’t feel sorry for seeing him in such a sorry state, with wet cheeks, a red nose, and dry lips. It was probably the worst she’d ever seen him, even worse than when Joohyun had left him. But she had no idea what to do or say to cheer him up. Knowing herself, she’d probably make things worse if she opened her mouth.

"Yeah..." he replied quietly, his brown eyes fixed on an empty spot on the floor. He seemed lost, absorbed in his own world, trapped in memories that caused him so much pain and heaviness it felt like he couldn’t bear them much longer. That, Jiwon thought, had been Taehyung's greatest muse: his pain.

"I’m sorry you have to go through all of this, I... I didn’t want to cause you more trouble. I know you hate listening to people complain and all that, but... I don’t have anyone else..."

"Shut up, you’re just making things worse," he murmured with sarcasm, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere a little. Contrary to what Taehyung thought, Jiwon actually cared about how he felt, she cared about listening to him, being there for him. "Now, why don’t you start from the beginning? How did you meet her?"

Taehyung stayed silent for a few seconds, one of his hands running through his hair, which had lost its once elegant form a long time ago. He licked his lips, feeling them dry. When he looked up, Jiwon’s eyes were already fixed on him, observing him with an intensity that revealed just how vulnerable he felt.

"I... I met her five years ago... there were almost seven months left until the next exhibition and I was struggling to create new art... and then she..."

"Did you make her your muse?" Jiwon tilted her head, sitting down next to him on the step. Her friend’s nervous behavior was starting to unsettle her. Even she didn’t know why. She knew him like the back of her hand, she knew he would never harm a girl, at least not consciously. So why was it so hard for him to speak?

"Yeah..." he murmured, covering his face with both hands. He closed his eyes, letting the memories of his time with Soomin flood back: her laughter, her eyes, her lips, her skin against his. Each memory grew more vivid, like a cold stream of water. He could hear the melody she played on the piano the first time they worked together, or remember the first time he saw her smile... Everything overwhelmed his mind like a cascade of moments he couldn’t stop. "She... she was like a breath of fresh air. I’d never met anyone so beautiful... and I’m not just talking about her looks, although she was that too. I’m talking about... her." He sighed, looking at Jiwon, whose eyes reflected the desolation he was feeling. "Her essence, her soul... whatever you want to call it. That’s what made her beautiful, Jiwon, and I don’t think I’ll find that in anyone else... I don’t want to."

Jiwon hugged her knees, still looking at her friend. She thought she understood what he was saying, at least to some extent. She had seen it reflected in his works, the way he portrayed her. It couldn’t be a coincidence that in each one, Soomin appeared as an ephemeral, ethereal being.

"So, then? Why did you let her go?" she murmured, studying his profile intently. She knew Taehyung was rambling, avoiding the topic. If she didn’t press him, he wouldn’t face it, and the last thing he needed right now was to keep avoiding reality.

Jiwon watched Taehyung for a long moment, feeling how the air between them thickened. She could see the internal struggle in his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged as if the weight of his sadness was crushing him. She decided not to interrupt him, though his words hung heavily in the air. The silence between them became thick, but Jiwon didn’t want to rush her friend. She knew that only when he was ready, the words would come. But when Taehyung finally looked at her, his dark eyes were empty, filled with a sadness that Jiwon couldn’t fully understand, but she felt it as if it were her own.

‘It was her who left me, Jiwon...’

"I told you I can't dance, Taehyung," you said with a trembling voice, watching as your feet wobbled unsteadily while trying to follow Taehyung's steps.

The soft jazz music filled the room, and the evening light covered them in a warm blanket that made the scene feel like something straight out of a 1950s-inspired movie, where a couple of lovers let themselves be swept away by the music, enjoying each other's presence.

The only difference was that they weren’t a couple of lovers. At least, not both of them.

You simply let yourself be carried away by Taehyung. His slow and relaxed swaying set the rhythm while you felt his soft heartbeat against your ear. Yours, in contrast, sped up, making it hard to breathe. Your steps stumbled between the softness of the music and the weight of what you didn’t dare confess, as if you were dancing on a cloud about to disappear. Every second with Taehyung felt like that to you—it felt magically unstable, a shaky ground that made you feel too good to let go.

Taehyung, on his part, felt calm, at peace, inspired. He enjoyed your presence and how easily you could make him reason, forget his pain, and move on. Feeling your hands, much smaller than his, against his shoulders made him feel grounded, and your nervous gaze and shy stutter caused a warmth in his chest that he had never felt with any girl before. Taehyung wasn’t someone who liked comparing people, but it was impossible for him not to compare the emotions he felt when he was with you and how these made him feel much more secure than he had ever felt with Joohyun. He couldn’t stop wondering what that meant, what he was supposed to do with all the emotions he was feeling. Everything felt so familiar and new at the same time, as if his heart recognized something his mind still couldn’t understand. And that disconnect scared him more than he wanted to admit.

They were each other’s refuge, their pillar. Taehyung felt free when you were by his side, and you felt protected when Taehyung was by your side. You were sure of what you wanted from Taehyung, but him? He still couldn’t fully decipher his emotions for you. How could he think about what he wanted if he didn’t even know what he felt?

"Let go," he whispered next to your ear, his fingers lightly brushing the silk fabric covering your waist. The combination of his warmth and the coolness of the fabric gave him a strange comfort, one he didn’t fully understand but didn’t want to let go of.

"It’s hard... to let go in situations like this, Tae," your fingers pressed slightly against Taehyung’s shirt in an attempt to ignore the shiver you felt down your spine when his words left his lips. For a moment, you could feel the warmth of his mouth against the bare skin of your shoulder, and it was a sensation you didn’t want to forget.

"Then let me guide you," he pulled back slightly, enough to gaze into your eyes. The eye contact between the two of you made everything feel unstable and blurry, and for the first time, you didn’t feel afraid to let yourself feel, because how could you not, when he looked at you with those warm eyes and that kind smile on his lips?

The tension between you two seemed to grow with each passing second, until you felt a tingling at the tips of your fingers and a flutter in your lower belly. The soft saxophone melody had long since faded into the background, both of you too focused on each other’s breath, the foreign heartbeat invading your ears, transporting you to a world where only the two of you existed.

"Tae," you murmured, a lump forming in your throat, your eyes fixed on his. You felt like with every word, the ground beneath your feet was disappearing, but you kept going, "I think... I think I’m falling in love with you." The words hung in the air, filling the silent space between you two.

He didn’t respond. He simply watched you, feeling the gentle sway of your body against his. His hands, now a little stiffer, remained on your waist, but his fingers began to tighten slightly, as if trying to hold onto a truth he didn’t fully understand. His lips, pressed in a thin line, trembled for a moment before returning to silence. He wanted to speak, but the words got stuck in his throat, as heavy as the feelings he was just starting to understand. His thoughts were a whirlwind, unable to find an anchor in what he truly felt, so he just stayed there, your words floating in his mind, repeating over and over, tormenting him.

And you? You just let it go, convincing yourself that he needed time. You knew it was hard to find the words for something so new. At least that’s what you told yourself, trying to silence the fear that started growing in your chest, the fear that this silence wasn’t the prelude to something beautiful, but the confirmation that your paths would never be the same.

“What did you say?” Jiwon frowned, not out of anger but confusion. You had left him? Really? Up until now, everything she had heard about you—from Taehyung—painted a picture of someone completely in love, head over heels, someone who seemed to give everything for him. So why would you leave? Something didn’t add up.

Both remained silent, the only noise filtering into the room was the distant buzz from the exhibition inside the museum. There was a certain tension in the air that neither of them could decipher, mostly because they were both focused on two very different things. Jiwon was trying to understand the torturous silence and torment that seemed to invade Taehyung every time your name came up in conversation; and he… he was trying to explain the situation without breaking apart in the process. He didn’t like remembering the past, didn’t like reliving the happy moments by your side because he knew they’d only remain as fleeting memories erased by time. And he didn’t want to forget you, didn’t want to lose you. You had left a mark on him in a way no one else ever had. Who else could understand him the way you did? Who else could play a melody as harmonious as the one you played every time you sat in front of his piano? Who could allow themselves to open up the way you did with him? To Taehyung, you were one of a kind, a treasure that no amount of money could buy or replace. If only his past self had thought the same, maybe…

Taehyung let out a sigh, softly biting his lower lip. He felt frustrated, lost, hurt… how could he put everything he felt into words when the wound was still open? Wasn’t it supposed to be that you healed first and then made sense of the situation? Even so, he tried. He tried to tell Jiwon the reason you had left. “It was my fault, Jiwon… damn it, it was my fault,” he murmured through clenched teeth, the lump in his throat growing more suffocating, his eyes burning more and more. “If it weren’t for me, she’d still be here, with me, and… and maybe… just maybe…” he pressed his lips together, looking at Jiwon with eyes full of pain, of regret, “she’d still love me.”

Jiwon observed him in silence for a few seconds. She hadn’t missed the fact that he still hadn’t told her the truth about why you had left him. So far, all he had admitted was that it was his fault and that you were the one who left, but the reason was still being dodged, and it was beginning to frustrate her. She wasn’t a patient person; she had waited four years for him to spit out whatever was tormenting him so much. She didn’t intend to give him more time—he had already had the opportunity to wallow and cry over his own misery. Now it was time to face reality, to face the present. It was about time he left the past where it belonged.

“Taehyung,” she grabbed his cheeks between her hands, perhaps a bit too roughly, but she didn’t care. She wanted to help him, truly wanted to, but time was running out, and his ramblings weren’t helping much. “Tell me right now what the hell happened between you two.”

"Then… What do you like more? Painting or music?" you asked, a playful smile decorating your beautiful face as you held a small bouquet of flowers in your hands. You had been with Taehyung for almost five months, and each day spent with him made you feel more comfortable, more at home. You were no longer embarrassed to be his model, and you didn’t mind looking at him for hours while he captured your image on the blank canvas. A few days ago, you had also lost the shame of being next to him, skin to skin, heart to heart. You had forgotten how good it felt to be with a guy.

Your eyes were fixed on Taehyung, on how the summer linen shirt barely covered the top of his body and how small maroon marks stood out on his neck and collarbone. You felt a slight wave of heat cover your face as you remembered the previous night, and all the ones before it. You could still feel his warm, rough hand on the bare skin of your waist, his soft sighs against your lips, and his eyes covered by a layer of lust.

"Hmm, I think… I prefer admiring music, and creating paintings," he smiled as he answered, letting his brush float over the blank canvas, tracing every detail of your figure, from the shine in your eyes to the pink of your plump lips. "What about you, Y/N? What do you prefer?"

"Me?" You paused for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling. You were surprised that he returned the question— you’d be lying if you said otherwise. You stopped to think for a moment. Music or painting? You loved art in all its forms, you loved going to museums and admiring the classic works that everyone knew, as well as those hidden in a corner that rivaled the beauty of the classics. You also loved music, attending recitals, concerts, seeing a live performance like The Phantom of the Opera or Hamilton— that was one of your biggest dreams. But...

A slight smile painted your lips as you thought of your answer. "I prefer to write."

"Write?" Taehyung set the brush aside for a moment, focusing entirely on you, not the beauty that so enchanted him or the inspiration you made him feel, but on you as a person. Even though you had been getting to know each other for months, Taehyung didn’t know much about you, aside from basic things like your name, age, and a few likes you had casually mentioned.

"Yes, I studied a degree in literature in Paris. Actually, I had returned to Korea the same day we met," you laughed softly, hiding the lower half of your face behind the bouquet of flowers Taehyung had asked you to use for today’s session. "I’ve always… been captivated by books and the emotions they could evoke in people, how you could get so immersed in a story just through the words of someone you've never met… I… really want to become someone who can provoke those intense emotions just with words, cross the barriers of language and culture…" You lifted your gaze, locking eyes with the bright man in front of you; his eyes so full of life, his heart-shaped lips, his messy dark hair, stained with paint from his hands. He was a work of art in itself, one you had admired constantly from the very first moment. "I guess that’s why I was captivated by you the first time we spoke… knowing that you were able to achieve everything I’ve always wanted with your art… made me see you as a role model, I suppose."

With slightly trembling hands, you set the bouquet aside, walking slowly and unsurely towards Taehyung. You didn’t stop until you were in front of him, feeling the warmth of his skin close to yours. You stretched one hand to rest it on his shoulder, lifting the long skirt of your pale pink dress just enough to raise your leg. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you positioned both of your legs around his, in an intimate yet comfortable act at the same time. You brought your face closer to his, resting your forehead against his.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, just before saying, "Anyway, I don’t think that matters… I stopped seeing you that way a long time ago."

Taehyung didn’t say anything. He rarely responded to comments like that from you. Besides, it’s not like you could say anything when his lips were against yours, his paint-covered hand caressing your cheek, leaving a trail of color on your skin as he brought his face closer to yours, wanting to feel you closer, wanting his kiss to convey everything he felt. You felt his other hand caressing your thigh, lifting your dress higher as his hand moved closer and closer to your waist.

You didn’t need words when you could feel it this way, you thought. That would be enough for now.

Taehyung was aware that he needed to speak, that he had to let out what he had been hiding for so long, even if it was difficult for him. He thought that perhaps, the perspective of someone distant and completely detached like Jiwon could give a new twist to his memories, maybe with her help, he could reflect on what had happened. But knowing what he had to do was very different from being ready to do it.

Still, despite the insecurity and anxiety that speaking it out loud caused him, he said it, for the first time, to someone else other than himself.

"I think... I think it all started after Y/N confessed her feelings for me," he said with a trembling voice, his hands shaking slightly as he prepared to tell Jiwon the truth behind his separation from you. "Everything felt too overwhelming, I was too absorbed in my own art, in what I wanted, in what she meant to my art, and..." he closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath in an attempt to avoid breaking down in tears again, "I guess I forgot she was more than just a muse for me... I forgot she was a person with emotions, with feelings..." He lifted his gaze, looking at Jiwon’s expectant eyes. "The only way I knew how to love was through my art, through my paintings... but I completely ignored the fact that... by doing that, I forgot her, I neglected her... I treated her like a replacement."

They both fell into silence for a few seconds. Jiwon observed him attentively while Taehyung seemed to be lost in his own world, lost in his memories and his own pain, in the moment when you confronted him, in how your tears started falling the moment he didn't know what to say to you, too afraid of how it might affect your relationship with him, not realizing that it was precisely that insecurity that would separate you permanently.

As Taehyung vividly recalled the day of your separation, Jiwon was trying to analyze everything he had said up to that point, trying to piece it together as best as possible. There was one doubt that lingered in her mind, one piece that, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t fit together. "Replacement"... did he really say he treated her like that? She was sure she had heard him use that word. She glanced at him sideways, noticing how his hands were clutching his dark hair, pulling at it in a desperate movement. She didn’t feel completely comfortable interrogating her best friend while he was in such a vulnerable state, but the unease and the urge to intervene were too strong, even for someone as controlling as her.

"Taehyung, by any chance... did you treat her like a replacement for Joohyun?" she said softly, watching every little change in Taehyung’s expression, looking for any sign that could tell her what was going on in his mind. She wished she was wrong, she really did, but the fact that he had just used that word... it was hard to think of anything else.

She knew she was right the moment she saw how his brown eyes filled with tears.

"How much longer? My hands are starting to cramp," you murmured, feeling the exhaustion weigh on you. The moonlight streamed through the window, delicately falling on your sleepy face. It was a view worthy of being captured in a photograph, but Taehyung knew that, even if he did, it wouldn't be the same. A photo couldn't express the emotions he was feeling in this moment.

"Just a little longer, Y/N, hold on a bit more," he said softly, finishing painting your dark hair. His heart raced every time his eyes met yours, noticing how they seemed to reflect the stars and the moon. He'd painted hundreds of women in the past, had a muse here and there, but no one had made him feel the way he felt right now. Not even Joohyun. "God... you're so beautiful, it's so easy to feel inspired by you."

You watched him in silence, noticing how his hands moved over the canvas, how his eyes shifted between the painting and you in a matter of seconds. You could see the adoration and admiration in his gaze, and yet, you couldn't help but feel a slight tug in your chest. The thought had been lingering in your mind for days, but the insecurity and fear of hearing his answer had kept you from asking it until now.

At least until now.

"What am I to you?" you murmured with a trembling voice, gripping the soft fabric of your dress. The pressure in your chest and the knot in your stomach grew with each passing second without an answer from Taehyung. You were scared to know the truth, scared of what his answer might be, but you needed to be sure of his feelings for you. You needed to know if he saw you for who you were or if he simply… treated you like another one of his models.

"What kind of question is that?" he laughed softly, putting aside his palette and brushes, gazing at the painting before him. It was absolutely hypnotizing, like all the ones he'd done since meeting you. He couldn't explain it, but every painting he'd done with you as the subject made him feel satisfied with his work. "You're my muse."

"Is that all? Nothing more?" You watched as Taehyung carried the freshly finished painting alongside a pile of other works he'd made since meeting you. The lack of interest he seemed to show toward your question made your heart ache. You were sure you hadn’t been imagining things; you saw the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, how every little thing you did seemed to dazzle him in a way that was almost exaggerated, as if your mere existence enchanted him. So why did it now seem like he had no interest in you? In what was between you?

"Why do you say it like that? It’s important to me," you murmured, your heart breaking a little more with every word he said. "I needed to finish the next exhibition, and I couldn’t find inspiration after Joohyun left... when you came into my life, it was like a lifeline. Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there that night. I probably would’ve had to, I don’t know, post an ad on the internet asking for a model or something."

"I was her replacement," you interrupted, standing up from the chair you’d been sitting in for the last five hours. Your legs trembled; you weren’t sure if it was from the time you’d spent in that position or because of the overwhelming urge to cry, but it didn’t matter, not now, not when the person you loved had just told you to your face that you were nothing more than a tool to achieve his goal. That, just as you were, it could’ve been any random girl who offered herself. "All this time... all we’ve been through together... didn’t it mean anything to you? Did you only care about finishing your work?"

Taehyung turned to look at you, his eyes widening slightly as he saw the tears silently streaking down your cheeks. He felt his mouth dry and his heart tighten at what he had just said. He had never thought of you as a replacement, right? You were beautiful, and he wanted to capture that beauty in his work; that was it.

No. No, it wasn’t. He knew it, but still, he couldn’t deny what you had just said. There were emotions involved, of that he was sure, but was it love? Was it really love? His heart had just been broken almost half a year ago, wasn’t it too soon to fall in love so quickly? Wasn’t it unethical?

"You never said it," you said with a broken voice, your bottom lip trembling with each word that left your lips. "You never answered when I told you I loved you."

"You're really an idiot," Jiwon let out a deep sigh, pressing her hand against her forehead. "How is it even possible that you said that? Do you have a brain? Of course, you do, but it's obvious you don't know how to use it."

"I know it was a mistake, I know, believe me," Taehyung watched her get up, feeling the urge to do the same, but the numbness in his legs and the trembling in every part of his body prevented him from moving. "I've replayed that moment in my head over and over, thinking about everything I could've said, how the situation could've been different if I... if only..." He let out a sigh, tugging at his hair with force. "I loved her... I still do, I always have, but... I don’t know... I was so desperate for inspiration, for recognition for my art that... I forgot."

"What did you forget?" she murmured, watching as Taehyung's hands lowered to his knees, burying his short nails into the fabric of his suit pants. "That the poor girl, surprisingly, also had feelings and wasn't just a doll you could use for your work?"

Taehyung knew Jiwon would react this way, after all, he had thought the same thing after his conversation with you. Still, it was hard not to feel hurt by his friend's cold words, no matter how much he felt he deserved them.

"I forgot that the reason I approached her in the first place was because I loved her," he whispered after a few seconds of silence, biting the inside of his lip to keep any sob from escaping. He didn’t deserve to cry; he wasn't the victim in this situation. "I loved her, Jiwon, like I had never loved anyone in my life. She was so much more than my muse. The only reason I was able to paint was because she made me feel alive, because she made me feel like it was worth showing the world the same beauty I saw in her. I wanted the world to see what I felt, but I never thought that by doing so... she... she would leave me."

"Well, shit," Jiwon crossed her arms, pacing in circles in front of him. She felt nervous, restless, and insecure. She slipped her hand into her pocket, pulling out her phone and quickly sending a message to one of her saved contacts. It was just as she pressed send that she realized something. "Wait, with what you just told me, she never mentioned anything about leaving you."

Taehyung looked up, his eyes seemed dull, lifeless, desolate, just like he'd felt over the last four years without you by his side. With one last sigh, he gave her a soft, weak smile, devoid of happiness. "That’s because she didn’t leave me at that moment, Jiwon."

Taehyung felt restless, pacing back and forth, staring at the window like a madman, desperate for any sign of you that would indicate you were still alive. It had been almost three days since your last conversation, and during those days, he hadn’t received any sign of life from you. The anxiety began to consume him like never before. Were you okay? Were you eating three meals a day? Were you staying hydrated? Were you sleeping enough? What if you had caught a cold? What if you’d had an accident?

It was just when his mind took him to the worst possible scenario when a soft "knock knock" sounded on the front door, followed by a “Can I come in?” from your side.

With his heart in his hand and his stomach almost in his throat, Taehyung ran to the door, opening it too quickly. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide his desperation anyway.

"...Hey," you said quietly, looking at him with a barely perceptible smile. It wasn’t like the smiles you had given Taehyung in the past. There was no familiar sparkle in your eyes that made him feel weak and excited, and your voice didn’t have the affectionate and cheerful tone it used to have before your last conversation. But there you were, in front of him, looking just as beautiful as always, being the pillar that kept him standing during his worst moments. “Can I… come in?”

Unable to say anything, Taehyung stepped aside, letting you enter his studio, watching as you walked gracefully and delicately through the place decorated with hundreds of paint jars and canvases of all sizes, most of them empty.

"Y/N, I..."

"Let me speak first, please," you said in a calm tone, turning to look at him. Your expression was serene, but it carried the same pain as the last time you saw each other, and that broke Taehyung in a way he didn’t even know he could feel. “I want to apologize for the other day. I think... I think I got carried away by how I was feeling, and I completely forgot that, from the beginning, what we had was only a work-related relationship.”

“No, wait, don’t apologize…”

“Let me finish,” you approached him, your steps slow and unsure. You were scared, afraid of making a mistake again, of taking the wrong path, of opening your heart once more and leaving even more hurt. But you knew this conversation was necessary. “What we had was a contract, yes,” you took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to organize your thoughts as best as you could, “But… I’m aware that over time, we both developed feelings for each other. I know what I felt for you, I know it was real and genuine and intense... and I know you feel something for me too. It might not be the same way I feel, but it's there; the way you look at me, how you treat me, I know it was mutual because I could feel your love for me in every moment I was by your side. I know it wasn’t my idea.”

Taehyung felt a weight lift off his shoulders. You understood, you knew how he felt even without him saying a word, and that made him feel even more captivated by you. He wanted to hug you, kiss your face, stroke your hair, feel every little piece of skin he could touch, kiss every corner of your body to show you that what you were saying was true; he loved you.

“But... I can’t allow myself to keep suffering for your indecision, Tae. I don’t want to give everything of myself while I wait for you to feel ready to take the next step,” your lashes fluttered quickly in an attempt to ward off the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes. Even though you felt like you were breaking inside, you kept that weak smile on your face until the end. “I don’t plan on staying by your side, begging for the minimum I deserve…” you moved even closer to him, lifting your hands to touch his cheeks, caressing his cheekbones with great delicacy. You swallowed the lump in your throat and continued, “So I’ve made the decision to leave, to... to give us some space to think things through... so that you can get over whatever it is that’s stopping you from moving forward with this... and while you do that, I... I will continue with my life... waiting for you to fix your problem... waiting for you” you whispered against his lips, barely separated from yours by a few centimeters.

Taehyung barely had time to process everything that was happening. He didn’t want to accept what you were saying, he didn’t want you to leave, to abandon him, to leave him on his own.

But he knew you were right, he knew this would only hurt them more, that he needed to separate his muse from his love for you, and if that process hurt you, then... he would have to let you go.

“How am I supposed to find you again?” he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him as much as his body allowed. He licked his lower lip, feeling it getting drier and drier, “I already gave all my luck in doing it once...”

“I know you will,” your tearful eyes met his. They both seemed to express the same thing; pain, loss, love. “I trust you.”

And finally, you brought your lips to his, releasing all the emotions you had kept inside since the last night you were together.

The kiss was overwhelming, full of desperation, tears, and small sobs escaping from both of them. It was slow, soft, delicate, and felt like what a farewell kiss should feel like between two people who could have had everything but were not yet in the right place, who weren’t ready for whatever they would have to face if they were together. It was a kiss of promise, a “see you later” that kept the question of how long it would take to feel that way again.

That moment was, without a doubt, the one that marked both of them the most. That moment was the one Taehyung framed in the last canvas of his final collection; The 1.

“I feel a bit overwhelmed by all the information I just received,” Jiwon murmured, uselessly shaking her hair. Her hands seemed to tremble softly, and judging by the shine on them, sweat was beginning to cover them. “I mean, I understand what happened… more or less, but this whole situation is so… I don’t know, intense?” She turned around to look at Taehyung, who was still sitting at the side entrance of the museum. “You two sound like two hopeless idiots who have no idea how to get over your fears and differences, and that frustrates me so much. If I didn’t care about you so much, I’d probably be hitting you by now.”

Taehyung let out a small laugh. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t funny, it was just some kind of impulse, a reaction Jiwon always managed to get out of him whenever they were together. It reminded him why they were friends. Taehyung was the sensitive side of the friendship, Jiwon the rational side, and both complemented each other, which was why they had made it this far without killing each other in the process.

“I know… we were young and stupid… maybe if we had talked things through better… if only… I hadn’t been so scared to admit what I felt,” Taehyung sighed, letting his head fall into his hands. He wanted to be strong, face the situation in a mature and responsible way, but it was so hard. Years could pass, but your presence and the effect you had on him… that would never change.

“Don’t bullshit me, that was four years ago, you weren’t that young and naive,” she muttered under her breath, fidgeting restlessly. She lifted her head, looking at the clear sky above them. She thought maybe by doing that, she could calm down a little, take a breath before continuing. “Okay, fine, let me…” she let out a sigh that seemed to have been held in for a long time, her gaze, usually cold and direct, now completely avoided Taehyung’s. “I have something to confess.”

Taehyung furrowed his brows, observing Jiwon’s hesitant expression, how her hands moved over the fabric of her pants, how she walked back and forth awkwardly. He could tell something was disturbing her, and it made him feel even more uneasy than he already was. “What’s going on?”

“I know her,” she murmured almost immediately, stopping to look him in the eyes. The doubt and insecurity were still there, she didn’t know if this was the right decision, but she couldn’t hide such an important detail from Taehyung either. He was her best friend, she wished him the best, wanted to see him happy, and if she could help, even a little… she would. “I’ve known Y/N for years… three, to be exact.”

Summer had arrived, and with it, all the memories you shared with Taehyung. It had been a year since your farewell, and although you were the one who decided to end whatever it was you had at that time, the pain of losing him hadn’t diminished at all. You could still vividly recall every inch of his face: his smile, his eyes, the mole on his cheek, on his nose—every tiny detail felt as close as the last time you were with him.

You had spent the past year moving from one part-time job to another, never relocating to a city too far from where you met Taehyung, holding onto the hope of running into him again as soon as possible. You didn’t feel ready, of course; not enough time had passed to move on from your relationship with him. But that didn’t mean you missed him any less—the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his work, his deep laugh, his soft voice, the way he danced to music your grandparents would listen to.

You missed everything about him, and you no longer knew how to deal with the loss. You had never officially been together, but it had felt like the most real relationship you had ever experienced in your life, even if it had lasted only a few months, even if it had left you feeling used. You wanted to go back to him, to take back your words, to see if you’d still be together if you hadn’t said what you did.

But your rational side—the side that tried to protect your heart from the pain of failed romances and relationships that could hurt you—repeated that you had done the right thing. You weren’t ready for each other, and if you were lucky, you’d find him again, and this time, he’d be ready to let himself be loved and to show his love openly.

You stared at the triangular-shaped glass sitting on the coffee table in front of you. You were almost certain it was lemonade, but you couldn’t quite remember what you had asked the waiter for, and you didn’t feel like asking. Picking up the glass, you took a sip, grimacing as an odd taste hit your tongue. It wasn’t lemonade. You cursed yourself internally for being so caught up in the past that you hadn’t paid attention to what you had said or done in the present.

“Hey! You must be Y/N, right?” A blonde woman in a black suit approached your table, pulling you back to reality and the present. She carried a leather bag over her shoulder, and resting on the bridge of her nose were black glasses that matched perfectly with her suit. Everything about her screamed “boss” and “woman in charge,” and just watching the elegant and confident way she walked made it clear she was someone decisive who didn’t beat around the bush. She was everything you were not.

“Miss Han?” you murmured, standing up from your chair to greet her properly. You were slightly taken aback when she casually tossed her bag onto the chair, but you decided not to comment on it. After a brief bow from both of you, you sat down again, facing each other. You felt quite intimidated by her—not just because she was more than ten centimeters taller than you or because of her elegant haircut and confident posture. She genuinely looked like someone who didn’t tolerate nonsense.

“Please, just call me Jiwon,” she said with a tight-lipped smile. Her cold, calculating gaze scanned you from head to toe. “So… you’re the new editor, huh?” she asked as she picked up the drinks menu from the center of the table. Her glasses were still on, but you managed to catch a glimpse of her blue eyes when she lowered her head to look at the menu.

“Uh, yes, that’s me,” you said in the steadiest voice you could muster, straightening your posture in your chair. You wrapped your hands around the glass of… whatever it was you had ordered, gripping it tightly until your knuckles turned white. Your nerves were at their peak today, and her presence wasn’t helping. Perhaps it would have been better not to come to the interview today.

“Oh, do they serve alcoholic drinks here? What a surprise,” Jiwon hummed, too engrossed in the menu to notice your panic. “I think I’ll order a mimosa… no, better yet, soju. Just one bottle. It’s been a stressful day,” she sighed heavily. Her perfectly painted red lips let out a deep exhale. For a moment, you wondered if the woman in front of you was really your boss or a runway model. She had the physique for it.

“You’re going to drink? How will you get home? You came by car, right?” you muttered before you could stop yourself. Heat flooded your cheeks as you realized you had just questioned your potential boss, someone you had only just met.

“Huh? Yeah, I came by car,” she said nonchalantly, waving over a waiter to politely order a bottle of soju and some gimbap. “See that guy at the table behind me?” she murmured once the waiter left, pointing to a young man, probably your age, sitting a few tables away. He was leaning on his hands, staring at Jiwon’s back with an overly wide smile—one of those smiles that looked like it would give him a facial cramp. “That’s my secretary. He’s the one who brought me here.”

“Secretary?” you blurted out in surprise, glancing at the guy. Did she notice the way he was looking at her right now? Because he definitely didn’t seem like the type to be a secretary.

“Yeah, ignore his stupid face. He always looks like that,” she said, resting her chin on her hands and pushing her glasses up to rest on the top of her head, where her bangs met her hairline. “Now, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, Y/N?”

“Well…” You cleared your throat, trying to hold her gaze. You lasted no more than five seconds, but at least you tried. “I studied literature here in Korea, and… uh… I went on an exchange to Paris, where I finished my degree.”

“Do you have any previous work experience in this field?” she tilted her head slightly, and you swore you heard her secretary sigh.

“I edited some books for independent authors this past year…” You decided not to mention your time working at a bookstore or the other small jobs you had taken to pay rent.

Before Jiwon could comment further on your sparse experience, her secretary approached the table and handed her a phone. You caught a blurry image on the screen—it was an incoming call.

You weren’t the type to snoop, really, but it was impossible not to glance when the guy was practically offering it on a silver platter. You saw the contact name and, for just a second, caught a glimpse of the photo. Your chest tightened as you recognized the picture.

“Ugh, I told you not to interrupt, Jungkook,” Jiwon muttered before taking the phone to answer it. “What do you want? I’m busy,” she said, leaning her elbows on the table and inspecting her nails with boredom.

She spoke to him with such confidence that it made you wonder what kind of relationship they might have. Were they friends? Family? …Partners?

“Why should I care if you’re alone on a day like this?” she rolled her eyes, slumping back in her chair. “Fine, I’ll buy you one on my way home. Happy now?” She fell silent for a moment before muttering a goodbye and ending the call. “Sorry, personal issue.” She handed the phone back to Jungkook, refocusing her attention on you. “Now, where were we?”

You glanced at her phone, lost in thought for a second. They knew each other, and judging by her tone, they were close—but not romantically involved. You doubted she’d be that curt with her boyfriend. Turning back to her, you felt a newfound determination in your gaze.

She knew Taehyung. She could be the bridge between the two of you when the time came. Taehyung could find you more easily if he knew you worked for one of his friends. You adjusted your hair, tying it into a firm bun to keep any stray strands in place. You were going to get this job, no matter what.

“What do you mean by that, Jiwon?” Taehyung’s voice sounded a bit more agitated than before, mostly because now both of them were running toward Jiwon’s car, desperate to get to her publishing house as soon as possible.

“What do you mean, what do I mean? I told you I know her, idiot!” She pulled the keys to her car out of the bag she was carrying on her shoulder, unlocking the doors. She gestured with her head for him to get in the passenger seat. She didn’t have time for explanations, not now, at least. I mean, it was three damn long years she needed to explain, and although she could probably give him a summary with the essentials, her brain wasn’t ready to form the timeline properly.

“Could you elaborate a little more!?” As soon as he was inside the car, he slammed the door – a bit too hard – and buckled his seatbelt, taking longer than he should have because of the constant trembling in his hands. Knowing that Jiwon knew you… that she knew where you were, that she had the possibility of seeing you again, of apologizing in person… It was just too overwhelming.

“Shut up and let me do my job as your friend,” she muttered, checking the rearview mirror to make sure no car was coming. Once she was sure nothing or no one would cross their path, she started the car and accelerated as much as she could legally do on the street… and maybe a little bit more than what was legal. “Ugh, damn it, I never thought I’d do this for you. Can you see how low you’re making me fall? I’m playing Cupid-for-second-chances, this is disgusting,” she glanced at him sideways, her eyebrows furrowing in her frown, “you owe me big time, Taehyung.”

Taehyung, still reeling from the news and scared by the excessive speed at which Jiwon was driving, grabbed one of the handles on the ceiling of the car, watching as the buildings seemed to flash by on either side of them. He swallowed, just before looking at Jiwon. “O-okay, I’ll give you whatever you want, seriously, just… could you slow down a little? I’m not sure how legal this is…”

“A speeding ticket doesn’t kill anyone,” she murmured with indifference, ignoring Taehyung’s insistence to slow down, even just a little.

Still feeling his chest tighten and his nerves on edge due to the situation, Taehyung stared intensely as the buildings became more familiar, as they got closer to the publishing house where Jiwon worked, and the closer they got to you, the more his insecurity grew.

What if you didn’t want to see him again?

“Do you think she’ll want to see me?” he murmured softly, gripping the car handle so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Jiwon, on the other hand, wasn’t in a very different situation. Her hands gripped the wheel as if her life depended on it, her furrowed brow and serious expression, which so often characterized her, were back, something that, to some extent, calmed Taehyung’s anxious and uncertain heart. At least one of them could keep control of themselves… even if it was just a little.

“If it’s the Y/N I think it is… then yes, she wants to.”

"I don’t get it, why do you want to work in the art section? I thought you liked fantasy books, romance, and stuff like that." Jiwon observed curiously the draft you were holding in your hands, absentmindedly chewing on a tomato and cheese sandwich. It was lunchtime, and her new employee couldn’t even take a second off from her work, and she wasn’t sure if that should make her happy or worried. At least it was fun spending time with you.

"I do like them, yeah, but... uhm... there's someone I like, and he... he really likes these things, and I just... wanted to learn a bit more about his world." A shy smile appeared on your face, your gaze dropping to the book sketch you were holding in your hands. "And, well, I wanted to know if, by any chance, someone might have written about his works in any of these books."

"Oh, I get it, you have a crush on an artist." She laughed loudly, playfully putting her arm around your shoulders. She raised an eyebrow and carefully watched the embarrassed expression on your face. "Did you have any luck finding him in any of those books?"

"Yeah..." You pursed your lips slightly, avoiding Jiwon's inquisitive gaze at all costs. "But I’m not planning to look for him... at least not yet, I need to give him time, I need to... wait."

"Wait? Wait for what?" She murmured, confused, watching as you held one of the sketches tightly against your chest. She knew that one, she had flipped through it a bit when she came to check if Taehyung appeared in it.

"Wait for him to be ready," you replied, looking at the sketch you were holding. You had seen his interview and the photos attached with it, photos of the works Taehyung had made during your time together. You had read the interview over and over again, feeling your heart race every time he mentioned you, the way he talked about you... it gave you hope that he still loved you, even though it had been a year since the goodbye.

"Wouldn’t you like to meet another guy? I know a guy, who also happens to be an artist, who I really think you’d get along with," Jiwon said with a big smile, pulling out her phone to show you a picture of Taehyung. "He’s handsome, right? Just like you see him, he's still single, he has horrible luck with women."

You laughed softly, finding the situation quite ironic. You stared at the picture for a few seconds, smiling as you saw his face again, not in interview photos or ones taken from the internet, but a picture of him, one where he looked relaxed and happy. That was the Taehyung you had fallen in love with.

"Could you give me his number?"

“Get in the elevator.” Jiwon stopped in front of the tall metal doors that almost reached the ceiling. Once they opened, she pushed Taehyung inside, ignoring his complaints and confused expressions. “Tenth floor, office 1013.” Before the doors closed, Jiwon raised her index finger, pointing it at him threateningly. “Don’t you dare screw it up this time, Kim. This time, the girl has me to give you the beating you deserve.”

And the doors closed.

Now that Taehyung was alone, his mind couldn’t help but flood with emotions and questions, keeping his nerves on edge. What if it wasn’t his Y/N? What if you didn’t love him anymore? What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you weren’t ready? ... What if you’d found someone else?

Hundreds of questions echoed in his mind as the elevator climbed to the tenth floor. He was scared, nervous, excited, tense—all at the same time. He didn’t think he could bear the thought of losing you a second time in his life. He didn’t want to.

The sound of the elevator doors opening distracted him from his internal monologue, preventing him—at least somewhat—from imagining even worse scenarios. With a lump in his throat and the fear of being rejected again, he stepped toward the door marked 1013. The door and walls were made of glass, allowing him to see everything inside the office without even entering.

From the outside, everything seemed to be in order. A large bookshelf filled with books, mostly hardcovers of various colors and sizes, stood prominently. A tall lamp rested in one corner of the shelf, while a beautiful plant in a decorative wooden pot occupied the other. The desk appeared impeccably neat, with only a few colorful, patterned pencils resting on its surface, alongside a yellow notepad and several sticky notes of different colors and sizes.

He scanned the room for any sign of you—or at least something to confirm this was indeed your office—but there was nothing recognizable, except for the almost obsessive orderliness of the space. He knew you had a sort of OCD when it came to organization, at least in work-related matters. He still remembered how you’d almost panicked at seeing just one thing out of place in his studio, or how you’d arranged all his paints by color palettes to make his work easier. He hadn’t changed that arrangement in four years…

“Excuse me, can I help you with something?”

Taehyung’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of a soft voice behind him. It was you; he was sure of it. He could recognize that voice anywhere. Suddenly, there were no more depressing or pessimistic scenarios, no more voices in his head telling him this was a bad idea, or memories pulling him back to the moment he had been with you. Now, there was only silence, and the single thought that you were standing behind him.

His chest ached, each breath he took feeling tighter against his ribs. Everything around him seemed to shrink, suffocating him. He wanted to turn around, wanted to see your face again, but fear and insecurity made it difficult. He had imagined this exact scenario in his mind over and over—every morning when he woke up and every night before falling asleep—so why? Why was it so hard to speak now that he could finally see you again? Now that he had the chance to make things right?

“Are you okay?” Your voice carried a layer of worry and uncertainty. Your hand gently rested on his shoulder, trying to make him turn around so you could confirm he was alright. You didn’t usually receive many visitors—apart from Jiwon and Jungkook—and this floor was exclusive to certain employees. You were sure he wasn’t one of them; you’d never seen him here before.

While you tried to make the man in front of you turn around to ask what he was doing there, Taehyung was trying to control the erratic beating of his heart, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm it. He had wanted this moment to come, had yearned for it since the day you walked out of his studio four years ago… but that didn’t make it any easier.

A part of him wanted to give up, to run, to prepare himself better for this moment. But another part… didn’t want to leave you, didn’t want to lose you—not after knowing what life felt like without you. He still remembered some of the moments you’d shared together, moments that made him question why his love life had always been so complicated.

Just coworkers wouldn’t sleep together, wouldn’t bring each other breakfast in bed, wouldn’t dance at sunset, pressed tightly against each other, feeling the warmth of their bodies as one. They wouldn’t kiss… coworkers wouldn’t take each other to the edge of pleasure every night until their last “project” together. And he knew it.

He didn’t want to lose that again, not now that he had the chance to get you back. So, for the first time in his life, he decided to take the leap.

“I… I’m fine,” he murmured, his voice sounding rougher than it usually was, yet still retaining its essence. And that was enough for you to recognize it.

When he turned around to finally face you, it felt as if the past four years had never happened. You looked just like the last time he’d seen you—maybe a little older, and your once-bright eyes now seemed a bit more serious—but you… you were still as beautiful as ever. You still made his heart race uncontrollably, just like you had four years ago.

“Tae?” A soft gasp escaped your lips, your eyes widening slightly in surprise at seeing him there, standing in front of you. Your hands started to grow cold and clammy, and you couldn’t stop the warmth from rushing to your cheeks. You knew this day would come. It was why you’d joined this company, why you’d accepted the number Jiwon had shown you, why you’d kept your promise and waited for him all these years. Yet you’d never truly believed the day would come when he’d find you, when he’d finally come back. “You… you came back.”

Hearing his name from your lips was a shock he hadn’t expected to hit him so hard—but it did. Some things didn’t change, and one of those was the effect you had on each other.

“I need… I need to talk to you. Are you free?”

Both of you walked in silence toward the small yet elegant café located on the top floor of the building. Neither of you seemed to dare to speak first; you were still processing the fact that he had come all the way to your workplace to find you, and Taehyung was too preoccupied organizing his thoughts, repeatedly rehearsing all the things he wanted—no, needed—to say to you. Neither of you wanted to ruin this reunion.

“We’re here,” you murmured softly, glancing at Taehyung out of the corner of your eye. Your fingers fidgeted with the fabric of your dress, trying to mask the trembling in your hands. You didn’t expect a reply from him; you simply led him to a table near the balcony and took a seat in one of the four chairs around it.

Taehyung sat across from you, clasping his hands together on the table, lightly scratching the skin of his fingers. He felt anxious, worried, excited—and didn’t know how to express everything he wanted to say. He hesitated for a few seconds, seconds in which he barely looked at you, barely breathed properly.

At least he was lucky that you were a patient person.

“Y/N, I… damn it, I’m sorry, let me…” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it already was. His gaze darted around, struggling with all his might to verbalize what he had wanted to tell you for the past four years. He licked his lips, and the table shook slightly as his restless leg bumped against it. He tried, even a little, to hide the anxiety that overwhelmed him, but his body wasn’t cooperating at all.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You tilted your head, tentatively reaching out to take his hands, wanting to offer at least a little comfort. You didn’t want to rush him, not if it would make him even more nervous to the point of being unable to speak. “Take your time.”

“I can’t, damn it,” he sighed in frustration, holding your hand between his and giving it a gentle squeeze, as if he needed to remind himself that you were there, with him. “I’ve already spent too much time thinking about this. I’ve practiced hundreds of times what I was going to say when I saw you again—why is it so hard to do it now that you’re in front of me…?”

You watched him in silence, feeling your heart tighten in your chest at his words. He had thought of you all these years, just as you had thought of him.

“The last time we saw each other, I… I was a jerk, a complete idiot. I knew what I felt for you—of course, I did—damn it, I’m sure I’ve never loved anyone like I love you,” he licked his lips, keeping his gaze low. He felt incapable of meeting your eyes, of facing the possible rejection from you. “I should have told you then, but I was so scared… I thought that if I did, sooner or later, you’d leave me, just like Joohyun did. I thought that if it ended like that, I wouldn’t see you the same way again. And I was so damn obsessed with the intense inspiration you gave me just by existing that I completely forgot why I felt that way. I forgot that I loved you…” He lifted your hands, still trapped in his, and pressed a soft kiss to them, something barely perceptible, cautious. “I didn’t come here to ask for your forgiveness, because I don’t feel I deserve it—not after the way I made you feel. I just… I just wanted you to know that you were never just a muse to me—you were… you were everything.”

You swallowed the lump growing in your throat, feeling your eyes start to sting. Four years had passed, and finally, you had heard what you had longed to hear from him. Warmth filled your chest, and in an instant, the weight you had been carrying seemed to lift. The soft kiss you had received from him made you feel like that twenty-year-old girl again, meeting him by the seaside the same night you had returned to Korea.

“Tae… could you look at me?” you whispered, eyes fixed on his dark, tousled hair from the countless times he had run his hands through it that day. A few seconds passed, and he didn’t move or say anything, as if it were too hard for him to face you after the outpouring of words he had just let out. And it truly was hard for him; what would he do if he saw rejection on your face?

But that wasn’t the case.

When he finally looked at you, he couldn’t help the shiver that ran through his body or the faint sting in the corners of his eyes. There you were again, smiling at him as if he hadn’t broken your heart years ago, reaching out to gently touch his cheek in the softest, most delicate way possible, treating him as if he might break at any moment.

“Thank you for being honest with me…” you said. Your tone was much more relaxed than it had been minutes ago. The hand resting on his cheek slid down to his jawline, and your eyes studied every corner of his face that you could see. You had missed him more than you realized. Seeing him in photos wasn’t the same. Hearing about him wasn’t the same.

Taehyung observed the smile on your face, trying to understand why you weren’t angry, why you didn’t want to yell at him, hit him. Wasn’t that what was supposed to happen after everything that had happened between them? Weren’t you supposed to hate him? To move on with your life and leave him behind? That’s how it was supposed to work, right?

“I thought… I thought you’d hate me for taking so long,” he murmured softly, bringing his hand to rest over yours. At this point, it was impossible for him to take his eyes off you. It almost felt like you had cast a spell on him, one he refused to break free from.

“I promised I’d wait for you,” you gave him a smile so radiant, so full of emotion, that he couldn’t help but feel a weight lift off his chest as a small smile began to spread across his face.

With the ache in his chest slightly lighter and with a bit more confidence, Taehyung dared to ask the question he had been waiting to ask all this time. “Should we… start over?” The hand still holding yours stretched, intertwining his fingers with yours, feeling your warmth against his skin. It felt right to experience that sensation with you again.

“No.” You shook your head, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as your smile grew even bigger. “I don’t want to forget how I fell in love with you,” you murmured, running your thumb over the skin of his hand, trying to get used to the sensation of his touch against your fingers once more.

A soft laugh escaped Taehyung’s lips. His eyes still felt misty, but this time for different reasons—this time, out of joy, out of happiness. “God, you’re so sweet,” he said, bringing your hand to his lips again, this time with your fingers intertwined. He pressed his lips to your knuckles, a soft smile meeting them. “Alright, then no starting over.”

“Yeah.” Warmth crept up your cheeks, and you had to bite your lower lip to stop yourself from smiling even wider than you already were. “Can we… pick up where we left off last time?”

Taehyung watched the pink on your cheeks spread to your neck and ears, the way your eyes sparkled as they looked at him. He loved having you in front of him again, and he loved that he could still have this effect on you even after all this time—because you still had the same effect on him.

With a gentle nod, Taehyung leaned closer to you, never letting go of your hand. He could feel your soft breath against his, your noses barely brushing, his eyes fixed on your lips. He had waited four years for this, and he still couldn’t believe it was about to happen. It felt almost like a dream, one he had been having for 1,460 nights in a row.

The goodbye kiss they shared had been painful—perhaps the one that had marked them both the most in their entire lives. But this? This would undoubtedly leave an even greater mark than the last. Feeling your lips against his, the faint taste of coffee, the sensation of your hair brushing against his fingers, your soft sigh of relief, and their light laughter colliding as they tried to deepen the moment made him feel like an inexperienced teenager again. But it felt good—more than good—it felt perfect.

When they parted, just a little, only enough to look at each other, Taehyung decided it was time to say the words he had held back for so long—this time, without fear, this time, without waiting for you to say them first.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered against your lips, brushing a strand of hair away from your face as you leaned forward to kiss him. “More than anything in this world.”

You let your head rest against his hand, closing your eyes under his touch, smiling softly. You felt happy, overwhelmingly happy.

“I know,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand. “I love you too.”

Masterlist.

This is such a masterpiece 💕💕 (i love everything you do)

To say you were tired was an understatement. The purple heels decorated with diamonds were killing your poor heels, the corset barely allowed you to breathe, and you were absolutely certain that at some point in the evening you would step on the overly voluptuous dress and fall face first to the floor, feeling too humiliated to even look the guests in the face.

Your introduction to the guests had been a good while ago, now you were too busy choking on food with your older brother to worry about the others. This, you thought, was the only way you could scare off any suitors.

"Seokjin, Y/N" you both turned in the direction of Namjoon's serious and accusing voice. He was the second eldest, but he definitely seemed to have more authority than Jin. He cleared his throat, trying to get the men next to him to ignore his brothers' behavior, "These are the Jeon brothers," he flashed a charming smile at two of the men, who seemed to be wearing clothes just as expensive as those of your brothers. "They are both interested in doing business with our family, so it's important for them to get to know each other better."

Jin and you looked at each other for a second. Namjoon was trying to introduce you to one of the two to be your fiancé, and Jin had to approve before anything happened. You wanted to kick your brother's pretty little face. 

You looked at Jeon again. If Namjoon was bringing them in as possible fiancées, it meant they had a high position in the hierarchy of nobles that your middle brother and father were so obsessed with. 

You smiled with your lips pressed together, trying not to look as awkward as you seemed, why should you know these people? You were sure they didn't even care about you. Despite that bitter thought, you bowed slightly to both of them and, in the softest voice you could manage, said "A pleasure, I'm Kim Y/N, Emperor Kim's fourth daughter."

The one you thought was the older one, took the back of your hand and left a barely noticeable kiss on your knuckles. You held back the urge to vomit. You hated being touched, let alone kissed without being told that's what you wanted. How rude. The youngest, however, seemed to be too distracted watching something on the other side of the ballroom.

You frowned, watching the direction his eyes were going and following it. It was only then that you realized why he didn't take his attention away from that spot on the dance floor. 

There was a group of four people, two women and two men, and each one was even more beautiful than the last, if that was even possible. The first person to catch your eye was the green-eyed redhead. Her hair had unruly curls tied up in an elegant bun, you weren't sure, as the distance was too far, but you could swear she had freckles on her pale cheeks and upturned nose; she wore a red dress that had white flower decorations on the sides and back, highlighting the color of her skin and eyes. She didn't look like she was from here.

The second person was the one who attracted the gaze of the youngest Jeon. She, unlike the previous one, had wavy blonde hair and wore it perfectly loose, her white skin with pink tones made her sky blue eyes stand out so much that it even looked like it could hurt from admiring them so much. Her dress was of a color similar to her eyes, but darker and with white decorations and sleeves that became loose after resting on her elbows. Yes, you could understand why he couldn't take his eyes off her.

The third was a man. His gray-toned hair stood out more than the rest of the men's, but, without a doubt, the most impressive thing was how pale he looked, for a moment you thought he might faint. He was wearing a dark blue trench coat, very similar to the skin of a crocodile, his black leather pants fit his legs perfectly and the long boots that reached below his ankles shone enough to see your reflection, and you were meters away. You squinted to see what he was wearing under his trench coat. It appeared to be some sort of men's corset, with three thick leather straps encircling his waist.

And the last one that met your gaze was... perfect. His hair, like the girl Jeon didn't seem to want to let out of his sight, was blond, the only difference being that the ends were almost completely black. He wore a black trench coat with gold decorations and black pants that looked much less tight than the boy next to him. He was wearing a vest, which you'd swear was for a pocket watch, the same color as the trench coat and, as a finishing touch, a white tie over his shirt. Now the one who didn't want to look away was you.

You were sure that your brothers and the older Jeon were talking some crap about the kingdom that you were definitely not interested in. There was a blond boy who was too gorgeous not to give him the attention he deserved.

You weren't sure how intently you looked at him, but it was enough that the man turned his gaze in your direction, causing his gaze to collide with yours. Your heart flipped over your chest as you watched him smile brightly at you. 

Who the fuck was that guy and why didn't you know his name yet?

Your heart returned to its normal rhythm as the blonde girl caught your boy's eye - yes, that would be his name by now - and dragged him almost to the door leading to the castle courtyard. Your feet itched from the urge you had to follow both of them. 

You saw the giant clock beside you. 2 AM, would anyone mind if you left the party for a few minutes? You had been standing here making your presence known for over five hours, you thought you had the right to do so.

Just as you turned to say a polite goodbye to the group of men you were obliged to be in, Namjoon gave you a huge smile and showed you the door through which the blond couple had just left. A great urge to vomit flooded you at the thought of that man with another.

"Can you take Jungkook for a walk in the garden? His brother just told me he loves flowers, I'm sure you can have a wonderful warm time chatting about gardening."

Jungkook, who was apparently the younger of the two, looked at you with eyes full of excitement, but you were aware that this glow was not about you, just as you knew he could tell in yours that you were in the same situation as he was. 

"Sure, I'll lead him through the garden until we reach the main entrance," you took Jungkook's hand almost without thinking, running as you lifted your dress with your free hand, you didn't want to let them out of your sight.

When you opened the door, both of you shaken, a wave of disappointment fell over you. There seemed to be no sign of them.

Jungkook, avoiding at all costs to look at you -due to how embarrassed he felt-, let go of your hand and started to walk slowly. You just followed him silently, just as uncomfortable and disappointed as he was.

You couldn't help but imagine the thousand and one scenarios in which that pair would be involved, what if they were kissing? Or holding hands while declaring their undying love for each other? What if he loved her?

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling stupid to be daydreaming about a complete stranger. 

You were still cursing yourself internally when Jungkook put his arm in front of you, stopping your movements. You frowned, ready to start questioning him, but then you heard two voices, one female and one male, they seemed to be arguing.

You and the younger Jeon shared a glance, silently deciding that you would go investigate. Taking advantage of the darkness around you. You walked through the shadows of the large bushes until you came upon a large fountain decorated with a human-sized angel at the top; in front of it were they, though definitely not as you expected.

"I told you, Hoseok, I can't do it" gasped the blonde desperately, shaking out her hair and messing it up. You didn't understand how she could look even better like this.

"Well you'll have to, Jiwon, Yoongi isn't going to let his... whatever it is with Chaeyoung, try to mess with one of them, and you know it" the boy, who you had had a ridiculously strong fixation on, spoke so patiently and softly that even you would have given in to whatever he needed. Although, being honest, you would give in to anything he asked for.

"This is ridiculous" the girl growled, resting her hands on her hips and raising her gaze to the sky. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Jungkook's mouth open slightly in astonishment. You thought you looked the same at the moment, but for a very different reason than he did.

"Just this once, you just have to talk to him, nothing more," your throat went dry as you watched him beg the girl for help. You had never seen a man beg so much for something. Now you were curious as to what it was that he was so reluctant to do.

Your intention in getting a little closer to them was not to be discovered, but, just as you predicted moments ago, those stupid heels had ended up getting tangled with the giant skirt and, consequently, making you fall. Face to the ground. With the garden freshly watered. At the feet of both of you. You wanted to die.

Masterlist

I can't help but say this again, do the second part please 😭.

Hello everyone! I was just coming here to let you know that I'm moving my account since this is just a secondary one and it's annoying to have to keep switching accounts all the time :) New name is @livingformintyoongi (yes, it's the same as this one lol).