His Bodyguard || K.TH.

8. Collision

You sigh, giving in and getting settled in the backseat, placing your hands on his waist.

Taehyung's smile pulls into his cheeks.

"Hold on tight." He begins to pedal and you look up at the stars, cheeks heating with the gentle breeze that keeps kissing upon them and tangling into your pulled back hair.

It's serene. Dangerous. You should be keeping a distance away from the boy you're holding onto. But while you remain firm, it's not so easy when he never once lets go of you, always an invader of personal space.

"God, how did you manage to ride a bike in a suit? This is hard!" He laughs, sound hearty like his father's, and his effort is not futile. "Baro's gonna kill me for biking in the new suit he tailored and iron pressed for me."

The paved path is smooth, grounds endless and the scent of grass constantly maintained and cut fills your senses. Once Taehyung builds enough momentum and stops pedaling, letting the built speed push him forward, the metal chains on the wheels clink. It's the only noise you perceive as the two of you move farther away from the house.

While you might not admit it, you're enjoying yourself.

Taehyung glances behind him, even if he can't see you in the dark. He knows you're there.

The boy begins to pedal faster, feeling you hang tighter to him, hands wrinkling his suit blazer. "Y'know, when I'm on my bike it feels like I can go anywhere. I can go quickly to any destination I want. No one can really stop me." He hums a soothing note and you can feel his love for it, something so mundane that he's found solace in.

"Should we just ride off into the sunset, Y/n?"

"No."

"Why not? We could be whoever we wanted to be, go wherever we wanted to go." He sighs wistfully and softly. "Doesn't that sound so nice?"

It does. But you won't tell him that.

In the meanwhile, Taehyung smiles to himself. Your body heat pressed against his is warm and comforting, but he won't tell you that either.

"And I wouldn't mind going anywhere with you."

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The sun is setting.
 
Yet, Taehyung stays in his spot, undeterred that he's losing the light he needs. His tongue is peeking out in concentration, eyes narrowed as he stands at an angle.

His hands are stained in a puke green, a smear of yellow on his chin, clothes soiled in dots of paints when he decided he was going to do a splattering technique an hour ago. 
 
He doesn't seem to mind the smell either, wiping his paintbrush recklessly on the canvas, brows furrowed as if he's a careful surgeon in the middle of a procedure. But his movements are erratic like he's erasing an entire page of essay writing done by hand. 
 
You're not sure how much longer this is going to take.
 
"Don't look," he says for the millionth time out of the corner of his mouth. "You can't see it until it's done. No one's supposed to look at a masterpiece that's unfinished."
 
You don't speak a single word, staying in your position. If someone walked by and didn't know any better, they'd think Taehyung was painting you with the way you're standing in the middle of the room, away from his easel.
 
"It's okay if you work late tonight, right?" The boy glances up, tiny smile gracing his features. "I need to finish this. Project's due tomorrow morning."
 
"It's fine."
 
Taehyung softens. "You're the best. If you're tired, you can go nap on that couch. I'll wake you up when I'm done."
 
"I'm on the job."
 
The man scoffs, returning to his artwork and washing his brush off in the bucket of water before switching to another brush. "No one's going to attack me in the art room, dumbo. No one's even around."
 
But you stay in your spot anyhow, facing the door while keeping an eye on the windows that's only becoming more and more difficult to see out of with the sun setting. Taehyung doesn't tell you twice to take a seat. He's focused, tongue running on the inside of his cheek as he continues.
 
It's obvious that he's wildly passionate about painting and it's a quality you admire. He's not just a troublemaker anymore who flourishes in misbehaving and trickery. You're glad he's found the arts as a means to express himself.
 
After half an hour, he hums, dabbing into the last colour on his palette. "Just... putting some finishing touches and... there we go! Finished! Come, look!"
 
Taehyung excitedly beckons you forward as he takes a step back to view his final piece. With the permission to walk, you join his side, turning to the canvas and he quickly swivels around to watch your expression carefully, soaking it in. "What do you think?"
 
It's ugly.
 
Terribly hideous. But you won't tell him that.
 
"Why is it neon yellow and green?"
 
He merely shrugs. "It spoke to me. You can see I dabbed the yellow in the corner and it kind of bleeds out and turns the dark green into a lime shade. Your eyes go to it, right? It's supposed to be the focus of my painting. I call it Sun Fire."
 
It's messy, chaotic, out of control. But the rough streaks of paint look purposeful.
 
You stare at it for a long moment and the discomfort only increases. It's difficult to understand abstract art and you feel like you don't have enough knowledge to analyze it properly, so as Taehyung waits for a response, you end with, "It's interesting."
 
"Right?!" He's happy that you agree, bobbing his head enthusiastically.
 
You tear your eyes away. "It's unsettling."
 
"Huh." The comment is odd, but he still takes it.
 
You notice that the loud colors very much embodies Taehyung and you add, "Not bad."
 
He grins, ecstatic from your praise. "Is that a compliment?"
 
"It's an observation."
 
"Just saying, it's not for sale. This is priceless to me."
 
You nod, shifting towards him with a serious expression. "Are you going to eat dinner?"
 
His brown eyes twinkle with mischief, made more alive as he searches your features as it's his favorite puzzle that he's trying to solve again. "Are you asking me on a date?"
 
You're not amused. "I have to make sure you have proper meals."
 
Taehyung laughs, sound drawing from his chest. "If you're going to ask me on a date, dumbo, you don't have to be so coy about it and make up excuses. C'mon, let's go eat. We can leave it here to dry."
 
He's about to casually throw an arm over your shoulder, but you step away, out of reach and he smiles, flickering off the lights and closing the door of the art studio behind the two of you.