There are a lot of places to go in the world. You expect yourself to be at the police station, filling out a report, giving your personal account of what occurred. Or maybe at Taehyung's apartment, watching him eat dinner before being dismissed for the night.
Of all the places you thought you'd end up today, you most certainly did not consider you'd be in the Blue House, inside your father's office.
Mahogany bookcases surround you, floorboards creaking under each step, chair purposefully uncomfortable. It's cozy, yet dark.
And the old man stares at you with a stern expression, a cold gaze that carries prepared scoldings ready to be carefully spewed out. You meet him with a blank look, eyes indifferent but alert.
You sit in silence as if in a time out. The gratitude of the woman you helped is still sinking in as your wrist swells.
The old man finally breaks the silence. It's a test. "Do you know why you're here?"
"I acted irresponsibly."
Not even twenty minutes at the station, you were getting called in. In the meanwhile, Taehyung was off somewhere with Jimin, not here to witness the end of yet another job of yours.
"You were given specific instructions not to leave Kim Taehyung's side."
"I'm aware."
"Yet you went off to assist a stranger and left the President's son when he's your responsibility, when his safety is much more important. It's your job to be monitoring him at all times, not to do police work."
"I couldn't ignore what was happening around me, sir."
"Then maybe you're in the wrong occupation."
It's your fault. You'll accept the punishment readily. After all, something could've happened to Taehyung in your absence and who would have to be held responsible?
It's obvious your attention was put elsewhere, that you're not truly dedicated to your duty. Your recklessness could've been costly or even fatal to Taehyung.
You're a bodyguard. Not out to fight vigilante justice.
"I apologize."
He shakes his head and sighs. Even after all these years, it's still frightening to be on the other side of the desk. Age has still left him tall and cold as steel.
You remember staring up at him, standing across the room. But what's far worse than being scared is the disappointment in his eyes.
"You're going to be reassigned."
"I understand."
"I can't trust you to protect the President's son anymore. It's too much of an important task to leave it to someone distracted and if this happens again, you'll be taken off duty permanently—"
The door slams open. Hard enough to jump back against the wall.
"Taehyung!"
Jimin's gasping with wide eyes. You turn around in the chair and your dad's pupils fly over at the rude interruption that's all too dramatic. Jimin's lips seal and he stands straight, moving out of the way, out of sight behind the other door, doing nothing to stop Taehyung.
"You're firing her?!" The college boy frowns, having eavesdropped on the entire conversation. You shut your eyes tight, cringing in your seat. Your impassiveness is finally marred, destroying what you tried so hard to maintain. "You can't just fire her!"
"Mr. Kim."
Taehyung's appalled, mouth wide open, unable to comprehend what's happening. He shakes his head. "Y/N didn't do anything wrong. What was she supposed to do? Let that woman get robbed?"
"Taehyung," you warn him to stop under a quiet volume, but he ignores you, openly challenging your father without an ounce of fear.
Your father gets on his feet, not amused with these childish acts. "She'll be reassigned to a different position in the Blue House. There's no need to worry about who will look after you. I'll discuss it with your father."
"No."
It's silent for an extended moment. The man's brow quirks. "Excuse me?"
"No," he repeats and almost laughs. Taehyung takes it so lightly, it's impressive. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kang. No. You can talk to my father all you want, but no one else is going to be my bodyguard, but Y/n."
The Chief's frustration doubles, but he keeps it at bay with a calm facade. "This is not a decision you can make."
"But it is. This person is going to end up following me around, so I think I get all the say. And I know for a fact that you've never re-assigned or demoted any of my bodyguards before. Not even Jimin and I'm pretty sure he lost me at least twenty times."
The called upon bodyguard squeaks outside. If possible, he stands straighter, fear emanating off his very flesh.
"I have no idea why you're being so harsh to your daughter." He steps by your side and looks down at you, meeting your eyes. All traces of the mischievous and playful boy have dissipated. He's stern and angry.
"Let's go, Y/n," he urges and grabs your wrist, but when he pulls, you sharply inhale. Taehyung's grip hesitates and he notices the way your skin is starting to bruise.
You quickly pull away, putting your arm behind your back, out of sight.
Your father's horrified, his authority trampled on, the power of his position proven futile. He doesn't like it, but there's not much to do when Taehyung's obviously not going to budge.
You dip your head out of respect. "If you'll excuse me, sir."
Maybe years ago, you would've told Taehyung off, make him leave and accept what your father has to say. But your sense of defiance has long been waiting. So without wavering, you escort Taehyung out, nodding towards Jimin outside in acknowledgment as he gulps.
You reach back with your left hand, shutting the doors.
Taehyung doesn't speak a single word. He looks straight ahead, hands digging into his tracksuit jacket pockets as he strolls away. You're left strolling behind him and it occurs to you that it's the first time.
The first time he's stood up for you. And not against.
–
"Where are we going?" You speak up halfway across the house, nearing the west wing that you're unfamiliar with, having only memorized the map layout.
Jimin has long stopped following, sensing that he has no place between the two of you and you were watching over Taehyung anyways, resuming your duties as if nothing happened.
"We're going to the hospital," he says and you realize that he's making his way to the driveway where the driver will probably be on standby.
"Why?"
"What do you mean why?" He laughs, back to the lighthearted Taehyung that you're most familiar with. He smiles and stops abruptly. You nearly bump into his backside and while you scramble back, he spins around.
"Are you seriously that much of an idiot, dumbo? I knew you had a low brain cell count, that you're all brawn and no brain, but c'mon, I expected better from you."
You stare at him.
He stares at you.
Finally, Taehyung points down to your red swelling wrist that you're unconsciously clutching towards your chest. "That..." You lower your arm immediately. "...is why we're going to the hospital."
But you refuse to move from your spot.
"Taehyung. We're not going to the hospital."
"Yes, we are, stupid."
"No, we aren't."
His frustration makes a muscle in his cheek jump, irked by your refusal. Luckily, no one's around to hear the argument.
"Why don't you just listen to me for once! I know I don't have a lot of good ideas but I think this is a good idea. You broke your wrist for god fucking sakes! You can't change my mind! We're going!"
"No," you whisper harshly. "We won't. If... if they find out I hurt my wrist, how am I supposed to protect you? I'll really get pulled off this assignment. You'll have another bodyguard. Do you want that?"
His arm drops to his side, expression darkening. "I don't care. I'm not going to let you suffer because of me."
"I didn't break my wrist, Taehyung." Now you're the one catching up to him as he speed-walks down the corridor. "I just lightly sprained it. My ligament isn't torn. It'll go away in a couple of days. I just need to ice it and maybe bandage it up."
You slide in front of him, blocking the way and clutching your wrist with your left hand.
Taehyung steps to the left, but you slide in front of him.
He steps to the right, again you intercept in his way.
The boy's shoulders slump, he licks his lips, patience running thin. "Why don't you just go?"
"It's not a big deal."
"Then you won't be pulled off your assignment of protecting me. No one has to find out!"
"But they will. I just... I don't want to go."
Last time you were at the hospital, you were shot in the knee. You thought you were going to die and you swore to yourself you wouldn't go back for an injury again.
The man gazes at you. It grows quiet. "Pretending you're not hurt when you are doesn't mean you're strong." Still, he gives in. Taehyung steps aside, looking at the white wall in defeat. "Where's the first aid kit?"
–
The guest bedroom is empty, but the both of you take refuge in the corner where there's two arm chairs pulled up next to a rounded coffee table meant for decoration.
The kit is open, bag of ice by his side, stolen from the kitchen. Taehyung's tongue is poking out in concentration, brows furrowing as he tries his best to bandage your wrist, though it's sloppier than he prefers.
Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you try your best to maintain composure, reminding yourself that you've been through much worse before. But that doesn't mean you aren't susceptible to pain, no matter how hard you try to hide it.
Taehyung pays attention to your breathing patterns, your inhales and exhales, reading your expressions to make sure everything's okay. The second you slightly flinch, he apologizes.
Once done, he presses the ice down to your injury. "If it doesn't get better in three days, we're going to the doctor. I don't care what you have to say."
"Okay."
He grabs the cushion from the bed, moving stuff off the table to put your wrist on top of it. "The internet said you have to elevate it. And you have to keep the ice on for at least two days."
"Okay." You comply, but it's strange. Foreign. You're not used to being taken care of. But it's not unpleasant. It's kind of comforting.
It simmers down and he retracts his hands into his lap, looking across the room to the painting of sunflowers. "You looked really cool."
A tiny smile tickles at the corner of your mouth. The pain numbs under the frigid temperature. "Did I?"
"Yeah. I wish I saw you take him down though. I only saw the aftermath. The police were pretty impressed too and the woman was so thankful you were there. You were really admirable, Y/n. Brave. I wish I was more like you," he admits in a surprisingly timid tone.
"You're brave too." You don't doubt he'd do something too. He's not the type of person who'd stand by and watch someone get hurt.
Taehyung grins and then glances at your wrist. "It doesn't hurt too bad, right?"
"I've been through worse."
"Doesn't mean this right now doesn't hurt. You have to take it easy for the next few days until you get better, alright? If that means Jimin needs to join us, then I don't care. Actually, you should just teach me self-defense so I can protect myself... and you."
"You tried learning once, remember?"
Recognition sets behind his eyelids. A humongous smile expands into his cheeks and he leans back.
"Oh yeah. I hated it." Taehyung visibly shivers for the dramatics and you almost laugh. "Your dad's scary."
"You didn't seem scared back there."
"Yeah." He shrugs. "I was more scared that you'd be gone."
The words are more meaningful than he'll ever realize.
He adds something along the lines that the last thing he wants is to revert back to a few months ago when he was bombarded by bodyguards, how he much prefers you. His ramblings continue and you muse how much he keeps surprising you.
Taehyung is less and less like the misbehaving child that you've deemed him to be.
He's shaped up to be someone respectable. Someone admirable that you can be proud of. He's much more courageous than he gives himself credit for– you can't stand up against your own father the way he did.
"Hey, Taehyung."
"What?"
"Thank you."
For being your advocate, for helping you– it's what you could've asked for.
He doesn't know what you're exactly expressing gratitude to him for, but he takes it happily. Taehyung's still boyish and reckless, and less overbearing. You're beginning to see his charm.
–
"How interesting."
The professor is staring at the painting while his fingers stroke his chin. Beside him is the teaching assistant who's also gazing at the artwork, and his brows are furrowed with his mouth agape. He tilts his head to the side, trying to see it at a different angle.
The large canvas has been splashed with a dark green shade that could win ugliest color in the world award. Yellow is splattered in the corner, bleeding out to make a lime green that's still unpleasant with the neon surrounding it. Rough paint strokes are seen. Maybe someone sneezed on it accidentally.
It's messy. As if someone had a strict kale diet and then took a dump on the canvas.
"What do you think?" The older male asks the younger.
"I think... someone was rushing last minute to get the project done."
The professor hums. "There's a sort of chaos to it, isn't there? Kind of madness itself."
The student turns to his mentor. "What do you think?"
"I think..." He analyzes with a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. "It looks sad."
"Sad?"
"Yes. Sad." It's the best word he can find, oddly simple for his extensive vocabulary. "But the yellow indeed reminds me of the sun. It's almost a glimmer of hope kind of piercing through this sadness. This loneliness."
"I can't see it," the TA breathes out in honesty. "It kind of looks disturbed."
"No, not disturbed. Just a loss of control. Isolation. The yellow is very intrusive."
"Huh?"
"Give the student ninety percent. It's an A. Could be better on technique, but the concept is clear and execution is very well done."
"Alright then."
The TA considers how much more he needs to learn. It's hard to understand art and even harder to dissect erratic art pieces made by the student named Kim Taehyung.
To be continued...