FAUX LOVE

☆[22]☆

He gazed at the tall buildings that surrounded him, wondering if there was anyone else awake after midnight like him. He wasn't referring to those who stayed up late to party, watch movies with their partners, or have drinks with friends. He was thinking of those who were up due to insomnia, regardless of their wishes.

He wondered how many lonely souls were out there, but he couldn't say if he belonged in that category himself for the day, considering he couldn't sleep because of the thoughts that were invading his mind and not because he was lonely.

As he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, he frowned. No one would be texting him at this hour except Jackson if there were any last-minute changes in the schedule.

To his surprise, it was Jungkook. It was a pleasant one. He couldn't help but smile and shyly caress his lips.

From Jungkook:

Good night Mr. Kim.

Without hesitation, he quickly replied.

To Jungkook:

Good night Mr. Jeon.

It appeared that he was not the only one having trouble sleeping. He let out a deep sigh, taking one final sip of his tea before proceeding to the room he longed to be in.

It was the same room he had once escaped from, finding no comfort within its walls. It had become suffocating rather than a sanctuary like it did before he returned to Seoul. However, now every fiber of his being yearned to be in that room, his personal space. As he entered, he noticed the unfinished paintings still covered in dust, a pang of guilt washing over him.

The incomplete artworks depicted dark colors, devoid of hope. He made a mental note to address them later. For now, he needed a fresh canvas. Unsure of what he wanted to paint, he felt a sudden inspiration, a sudden urge to just go for it.

Just how long has it been that he experienced this profound sense of vitality? Engaging in an activity purely out of desire rather than necessity.

He proceeded to retrieve his paintbrushes and collect an assortment of paints, meticulously arranging them within arms reach. He intended to fully dedicate himself to this endeavor.

As he hummed a melody, he delicately applied strokes onto the canvas, his thoughts still preoccupied by the lingering kiss. Eventually, he succumbed to them, recognizing that they fueled his creative inspiration. With no hesitation, he allowed his hands to instinctively navigate the canvas. Completing it with a final stroke, he utilized nearly every color at his disposal.

His eyes widened in astonishment and he impulsively covered his mouth in disbelief as he gazed upon the finished product. One could easily recognize that he had just regained his senses, simply by observing his reaction. His heart raced with increased intensity, causing him to nervously bite his bottom lip before swiftly departing the room, securing it behind him without a second glance at the painting.

He proceeded to cleanse himself, engrossed in deep thoughts. He observed his flushed cheeks as gazed at his reflection in the misted mirror, prompted by the recurring recollection of the kiss. He then closed his eyes, elegantly swept back his damp hair, and released a profound exhale.

After changing into his sleepwear and slipping beneath the covers, he searched for every negative reason as to why he shouldn't be doing what he was doing, but he found nothing wrong with it. Maybe he'll get the answers if he sleeps on it.

The moment he convinced himself to abstain from negativity, a smile graced his face. He had his first kiss. Oh shit. He suddenly felt overwhelmed. He almost squealed but composed himself. With his eyes sealed shut, sleep swiftly claimed him, considering how the sun was just an hour away from spreading its light.