UNIVERSE / BTS.

59: you're a peach / taejoon

flora nods slowly, hands clasped around her cup. "actually, tete, i don't work for your father anymore. i'm retiring, amore — nana's old. your father hired someone else to do my job."

taehyung raises his eyebrows. "ah, i'll miss you, senhora. you'll still be around?"

"yes darling, of course," flora nods. "i'll bring you breakfast, don't you worry," taehyung laughs. "you'll like this new guy. he's korean — your father wanted you to have someone you could speak to easily."

"does he know that i speak italian?" taehyung rolls his eyes with a chuckle, although it does sting that his father knows so little about him. the divorce happened when taehyung was fifteen, and his father has mostly been away on 'business' — that business being fucking women he couldn't fuck whilst taehyung was home, whilst on business trips — ever since. but he takes care of himself.

"probably not. but this kim boy is sweet, the son of a local cow farmer — his father left when he was little, poor doll — and he'll just make sure you don't get into trouble," flora explains, her withered face showing signs of past beauty, like a ruined temple. taehyung nods slowly, his hair illuminated like a black halo by sunlight behind him. "but he is only a year older than you... maybe it's better that you'll have someone your age here," she smiles gently, before coughing a little. "anyway. give your nanny a hug."

taehyung smiles as the two embrace, having mixed feelings about this namjoon boy. he supposes he'll be fine, but anything feels like it'll be fine as long as senhora flora's sweet sunshine smell is surrounding him like her arms are. taehyung kisses her cheeks, and she bids him goodbye, leaving him with his breakfast and his thoughts. taehyung knows that namjoon will be showing up at 10, roughly, so he's going to make sure he's looking stunning — of course, he always looks stunning.

sipping his coffee, taehyung walks the slate stairs back up to his beautiful spacious room with huge windows and a distinct smell of citrus, mingled with taehyung's cologne he adores. the sunshine shining on his features, illuminating him like a fine statue, he looks through his wardrobe, slender pianist fingers clutched around his cup. first, a pair of swim shorts — loose white things, meant for women, with a little lace detail —, a loose flowing top, with black lace and red roses sewn into the fabric, and under that, an almost see-through floaty white vest, which contrasts beautifully with his tan.

freckles stand out on his makeup-less face, which makes taehyung smile as he gently puts in his nose piercing, the silver glittering. summer by brockhampton, the first song on his favourite mixtape, drifts hazily through the thick heat of the italian air, making taehyung long for something more. with his sony walkman and new book in hand, he walks down to the pool patio, appreciating the slight wind that seems to carry away his worries — not that he has any. taehyung's bare feet barely make a noise as they cross the slate, and he settles himself on a ledge beside a sickly fragrant bush of orange flowers, the music at the perfect volume and the sun the right heat, and everything perfect.

"in the heat of the summer..."

taehyung sings along softly, his toes close enough to the pool to lightly skim over the water, calming, book abandoned for the time being. he loves these little moments of peace, accompanied by the mixtape he makes each summer exactly for this trip, they make his heart slow and his brain stop being so demanding, and time just seems to slow in old ancient italy, which is probably why he adores it so much. yawning gently, taehyung leans his head back against the wall, as the song fades into palace by the same band, and he closes his eyes, happy.