創建|poiein°taekook

t a e h y u n g

Jeongguk stared at the empty canvas in front of him, limbs hanging limply off to the sides, back bent, a dead look in his eyes.

"Semi-abstract landscape; paint your pain" it said on the blackboard in messy chalk scribbles, indicating the subject of that lesson's project, with several others around him doing exactly that; painting their pains.

Yet Jeongguk sat there, not moving an inch, not being able to.

"Mr. Jeon, you haf painted, yez?" The teacher swooped down, but withdrew after seeing the empty stretch of nothingness. "Ah, ze art block. Not to worry, my boy, not to worry. Take your time."

Yet how much time was he supposed to take? How many days and nights had he already spent like this, staring off into space, ruminating about what is and what could have been. Paint your pain. How could he, when the only pain he felt was...nothingness? He was empty. Devoid.

Once, he had believed himself to be betrothed to art, believed that this was his only passion, his only one true meaning of life. But not anymore. Without him....everything else lost it's hue. It's colour. It's utter meaning.

The ringing of the bell jostled him out of his melancholy epiphanies. With a sigh (and aching limbs) he mindlessly threw all his brushes inside his satchel and lifted the canvas up under his arm. Barely hearing the drone of the teacher, he slouched out of the hall, mentally pleased as to how there were no evening classes, and that he could spend the afternoon revelling in his misery(again).

Last out of the room, he stopped against another door right beside the art room, which stood ajar, revealing it's contents inside.

A piano.

A rush of emotions rolled against the inside of Jeongguk's body, licking up his ribs and palpitating his heartbeat for a fraction of a second. The sudden urge to hear the instrument being played, to sit down beside Taehyung and watch his slender fingers strum against the keys, became overwhelming to the point that he, Jeon fucking Jeongguk, started tearing up.

You miss him.

You miss him so much, to the point where everything else seems distant.

"Why?" He whispered. "He didn't mean much to me."

Liar.

Momentarily closing his eyes, he inhaled. Then exhaled.

And when he fluttered his eyes open, he knew.

He knew what to do.

Paint your pain.

Your pain.

His pain was Taehyung.

And the answer burst open with clarity.

_______

Taehyung sighed, staring up at his ceiling, a dead-eyed look in his usually vibrant hazel irises.

Hoseok had tried (many times) and failed in cheering up his melancholic form. At last, he had left, leaving a cup of green tea on the bedside table, long gone cold.

Now there Taehyung was, numb with what he had done, tired of telling himself it had been for the better, that neither he nor Jeongguk would have gained anything from what they had been doing.

Fuck buddies. Friends with benefits. Yes, there had been some moments where Taehyung ( and Jeongguk too, he hoped) had felt actual, real affection and/or warmth. But it wasn't enough, was it?

No.

And Taehyung was sick of it.

The blonde sighed again. He was doing a lot of that these days. Along with crying. And temper tantrums. And not attending classes.

Basically, he was a mess.

I wonder what he's doing right now, he thought. Probably fine, going about his daily life in perfect health.

Truth was, Taehyung had been tempted to visit the brunette many times, but had convinced himself that it's a bad idea. After all, he himself had been the one who broke it off. Jeongguk wouldn't want to see him. At all.

Another sigh, echoing off the empty dorm room.

Maybe it was time he got over that boy. That claustrophobic idiot who got flustered at the smallest of things. That moron with some form of paint always smeared along his clothes. That wreck with too many ideas in his head.

Maybe Taehyung was the wreck here. An absolute wreck just because of him.

For some part of him knew, no matter what happened, no matter who he met with amazing manners and sweetest words, no matter how loving and caring and unashamed that person would be to be with him...Taehyung would not feel satisfied. He could not forget that rude nineteen year old headass that had called out to him on that day of the festival, instantly mesmerizing him with his sparkly gaze and softest skin and adorable teeth.

"What the fuck, Taehyung?" The boy muttered to himself, sensing wetness slide down his cheeks.

Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.

_________

a/n; sigh. dw, things will get steamy 👀 soon. & by steamy, i mean--well, you know