Oneshot Vault TK

Tints of You

Grumpy Tsundere Jungkook x Sunshine Soft Taehyung

Jungkook : Cold, blunt, huge shoulders, secret gentle heart, colourblind, secretly loves flowers and sunsets but never sees them properly.

Taehyung : New art major, partially blind in one eye, paints like he sees everything, warm, giggly, a little clumsy, but sharp when needed.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first time Jungkook saw him, it was raining.

Not the dramatic, movie-kind of rain, but a silent drizzle that clung to leaves and hair, softening the world into blurred greys. Jungkook was walking back from an early-morning meeting with the university board, leather bag slung over his broad shoulder, tie neatly pinned, shoes tapping precisely against the stone path of the east garden.

He never walked through the garden. It was a detour he hated – too many rose bushes pruned for aesthetic, too many students lazing around with guitar cases and oversized sketchbooks. But today, irritation burning at his temples from yet another denied budget proposal for the student council, he needed quiet. Or maybe he needed to feel superior to others wasting time under banyan trees while he built his future.

That was when he saw him.

A boy – slender, wearing the cream art department uniform stained with smudges of colour Jungkook could not name. His hair fell softly over his eyes, curling at the nape, damp from drizzle, sticking to his temple as he bent forward, squinting at the paper on his knee.

His fingers moved with swift grace, brush flicking in delicate motions. His thumb was resting against his lower lip, absent-mindedly rubbing off a paint streak that had no business looking that beautiful.

Jungkook halted mid-step.

The world around him, always in washed out monochrome, seemed to fade into an even emptier void. Because this boy's movements... they felt like colour.

The boy looked up suddenly, blinking wide doe eyes at him. There was a patch over his left eye, floral embroidered, delicate against his fair skin. His visible eye crinkled in a smile as he tilted his head.

"Oh!" His voice was soft, the kind that breezes out without warning. "You're... um, you're blocking my light."

Jungkook blinked, realising he had stepped in front of the stone bench where the boy sat, casting a shadow over his sketchbook. His brows knitted instantly into his practiced frown.

"Watch where you sit next time," he snapped, voice low, dripping with habitual coldness. "The garden path isn't an art studio."

The boy giggled – actually giggled – and Jungkook felt his chest clench in annoyance. "You're funny," the boy said, brushing a stray curl away from his eye patch. "But... um, sorry. I just wanted to catch the morning light before class. It's warmer than noon light. You know?"

No, Jungkook did not know. Nor did he care. Colours were irrelevant to him. But he couldn't stop staring at the paint streak running down the boy's wrist like melted honey.

The boy noticed his gaze and lifted his hand sheepishly. "Ah. Sorry, I'm messy. Oh! Wait."

He rummaged in his worn canvas pouch and took out a small rectangular piece of stiff paper. Holding it out with a shy grin, he said, "Here. You look like you could use some colour."

Jungkook took it reflexively. It was a tiny brush painting of what he assumed was a flower. Petals blooming in layered textures, lines bleeding into each other with intentional mess. He could not see the colours, but something about it felt... warm.

Before he could respond, the boy was already gathering his brushes into his pouch, fumbling as he stood up. He winced slightly, blinking rapidly.

"Careful," Jungkook muttered instinctively, seeing his stagger. The boy steadied himself with a weak laugh.

"It's nothing. My bad eye's tired today. Anyway..." He slung his pouch over his shoulder, turning to look up at Jungkook, lashes wet with drizzle, lips curling into a smile that felt brighter than any palette.

"I'm Kim Taehyung. Art major, first year. See you around... Mr. Student Council President."

And with that, he walked away, shoes leaving faint damp prints on the grey stone path.

Jungkook stood frozen, the little painting clenched in his large hand, heart pounding for a reason he could not name.

He looked down at the brush painting again. The swirling textures, the gentle flicks of Taehyung's wrist embedded in every stroke.

You look like you could use some colour.

He scoffed softly, slipping the painting carefully into his leather bag, behind his organiser. The drizzle turned into a silent downpour, tapping his shoulders with cool urgency.

For the first time in years, Jungkook wondered what colour the sky was when it rained.

--

PLEASE VOTE AND COMMENT LOL

Moon~💜