He's in the shadows, bending over, peeking over the plotted plants to the guards at the door.
His eyes narrow, wondering how he'll distract them. Freedom is so close. Perhaps he could just jump out of a window rather than walking through the door. It's not like he hasn't done that before. The only trade off is that he'll get a mouthful from colliding with the bushes which he can always spit out.
But Taehyung doesn't get the opportunity to sneak off into a room and open a window.
Your hand is thrown on his shoulder and he flinches in shock.
"Where do you think you're going?"
He cranes his neck around, smile guilty. "Caught me, huh?"
"You're not allowed to leave without anyone-"
"-protecting me, yeah, yeah, whatever, I get it, dumbo. It's just so boring. Admit it. You were getting bored too. It's just all political talk that I can care less about." Taehyung turns around fully, hands digging into his pants pockets. "I just wanted to ride my bike for a little bit. It's really nice outside right now. Weather's good."
"You have your bike here?"
"I have my teal one here. So what do you say? Can I go? As long as you come with me, I'm allowed to do whatever I want, right?"
It's ridiculous that he goes first and asks later.
For now, you press a button against your earpiece. "Standby. Kim Taehyung's in the East Wing by the red room."
A voice returns. "Copy."
You look back at the man with blonde hair swept back, brows thick, lips thin and eyes full of trouble. "You should tell me if you want to ride your bike."
His grin expands. "For the record, I'm telling you now."
"If they saw a fast moving figure in the dark, you'd get shot at."
"Well, thank god you found me when you did then." He rocks back and forth from his toes to his heel. "So what's your final decision, dumbo? Are you joining me or not?"
He already knows the answer.
You have no choice. You're merely obligated to protect him.
So when you walk off, Taehyung laughs and follows after you, quickening his pace to match yours.
The grounds are dark, light coming from inside the house and the twinkling stars above. Aside from the laughter and music that leaks past window cracks, there's the sound of crickets and the rustle of leaves from trees nearby. It's indeed peaceful.
The warm wind grazes against your cheeks and for a long moment, you take it all in, letting the atmosphere soak into a quieted mind.
You don't notice Taehyung gazing at the profile of your face.
"Nice, right? I'd be a waste to be stuck inside." He looks away, propping his bike up and grabbing the handles. With you reporting his actions, he doesn't need to worry about being shot at and eliminated as a potential threat.
"This bike isn't as good as my other one but it's still decent. It's my old one that I use as backup now. One of my bodyguards previously slammed into this one. Nearly killed me trying to chase after me."
"Maybe you shouldn't try to run away."
"But that's half the fun." He throws his leg over, sitting down. "Take a seat, dumbo."
"Where's your helmet?"
"I'm fine without it, dumbo. Don't worry so much. Just this once, okay? And if I happen to fall, you'll catch me, right? Just stop talking and get on before we're attacked by bugs out here."
You sigh, giving in and getting settled in the backseat, placing your hands on his waist.
Taehyung's smile pulls into his cheeks.
"Hold on tight." He begins to pedal and you look up at the stars, cheeks heating with the gentle breeze that keeps kissing upon them and tangling into your pulled back hair.
It's serene. Dangerous. You should be keeping a distance away from the boy you're holding onto. But while you remain firm, it's not so easy when he never once lets go of you, always an invader of personal space.
"God, how did you manage to ride a bike in a suit? This is hard!" He laughs, sound hearty like his father's, and his effort is not futile. "Baro's gonna kill me for biking in the new suit he tailored and iron pressed for me."
The paved path is smooth, grounds endless and the scent of grass constantly maintained and cut fills your senses. Once Taehyung builds enough momentum and stops pedaling, letting the built speed push him forward, the metal chains on the wheels clink. It's the only noise you perceive as the two of you move farther away from the house.
While you might not admit it, you're enjoying yourself.
Taehyung glances behind him, even if he can't see you in the dark. He knows you're there.
The boy begins to pedal faster, feeling you hang tighter to him, hands wrinkling his suit blazer. "Y'know, when I'm on my bike it feels like I can go anywhere. I can go quickly to any destination I want. No one can really stop me." He hums a soothing note and you can feel his love for it, something so mundane that he's found solace in.
"Should we just ride off into the sunset, Y/n?"
"No."
"Why not? We could be whoever we wanted to be, go wherever we wanted to go." He sighs wistfully and softly. "Doesn't that sound so nice?"
It does. But you won't tell him that.
In the meanwhile, Taehyung smiles to himself. Your body heat pressed against his is warm and comforting, but he won't tell you that either.
"And I wouldn't mind going anywhere with you."
–
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The sun is setting.
Yet, Taehyung stays in his spot, undeterred that he's losing the light he needs. His tongue is peeking out in concentration, eyes narrowed as he stands at an angle.
His hands are stained in a puke green, a smear of yellow on his chin, clothes soiled in dots of paints when he decided he was going to do a splattering technique an hour ago.
He doesn't seem to mind the smell either, wiping his paintbrush recklessly on the canvas, brows furrowed as if he's a careful surgeon in the middle of a procedure. But his movements are erratic like he's erasing an entire page of essay writing done by hand.
You're not sure how much longer this is going to take.
"Don't look," he says for the millionth time out of the corner of his mouth. "You can't see it until it's done. No one's supposed to look at a masterpiece that's unfinished."
You don't speak a single word, staying in your position. If someone walked by and didn't know any better, they'd think Taehyung was painting you with the way you're standing in the middle of the room, away from his easel.
"It's okay if you work late tonight, right?" The boy glances up, tiny smile gracing his features. "I need to finish this. Project's due tomorrow morning."
"It's fine."
Taehyung softens. "You're the best. If you're tired, you can go nap on that couch. I'll wake you up when I'm done."
"I'm on the job."
The man scoffs, returning to his artwork and washing his brush off in the bucket of water before switching to another brush. "No one's going to attack me in the art room, dumbo. No one's even around."
But you stay in your spot anyhow, facing the door while keeping an eye on the windows that's only becoming more and more difficult to see out of with the sun setting. Taehyung doesn't tell you twice to take a seat. He's focused, tongue running on the inside of his cheek as he continues.
It's obvious that he's wildly passionate about painting and it's a quality you admire. He's not just a troublemaker anymore who flourishes in misbehaving and trickery. You're glad he's found the arts as a means to express himself.
After half an hour, he hums, dabbing into the last colour on his palette. "Just... putting some finishing touches and... there we go! Finished! Come, look!"
Taehyung excitedly beckons you forward as he takes a step back to view his final piece. With the permission to walk, you join his side, turning to the canvas and he quickly swivels around to watch your expression carefully, soaking it in. "What do you think?"
It's ugly.
Terribly hideous. But you won't tell him that.
"Why is it neon yellow and green?"
He merely shrugs. "It spoke to me. You can see I dabbed the yellow in the corner and it kind of bleeds out and turns the dark green into a lime shade. Your eyes go to it, right? It's supposed to be the focus of my painting. I call it Sun Fire."
It's messy, chaotic, out of control. But the rough streaks of paint look purposeful.
You stare at it for a long moment and the discomfort only increases. It's difficult to understand abstract art and you feel like you don't have enough knowledge to analyze it properly, so as Taehyung waits for a response, you end with, "It's interesting."
"Right?!" He's happy that you agree, bobbing his head enthusiastically.
You tear your eyes away. "It's unsettling."
"Huh." The comment is odd, but he still takes it.
You notice that the loud colors very much embodies Taehyung and you add, "Not bad."
He grins, ecstatic from your praise. "Is that a compliment?"
"It's an observation."
"Just saying, it's not for sale. This is priceless to me."
You nod, shifting towards him with a serious expression. "Are you going to eat dinner?"
His brown eyes twinkle with mischief, made more alive as he searches your features as it's his favorite puzzle that he's trying to solve again. "Are you asking me on a date?"
You're not amused. "I have to make sure you have proper meals."
Taehyung laughs, sound drawing from his chest. "If you're going to ask me on a date, dumbo, you don't have to be so coy about it and make up excuses. C'mon, let's go eat. We can leave it here to dry."
He's about to casually throw an arm over your shoulder, but you step away, out of reach and he smiles, flickering off the lights and closing the door of the art studio behind the two of you.
–
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The situation at school was improving for Taehyung.
It's easier to tell it was getting better these days, that it's not so difficult for him anymore. He's more motivated to head to class and not just ditch, to actually complete assignments on time, not mumbling and grumbling as much anymore while you both walk on campus.
People's long stares are also lessening, no longer putting empty rows between him and the rest of class, no longer murmuring as he passes.
He even chats with a classmate or two before the professor begins the lecture, albeit they always sit two seats away and Taehyung constantly forgets their name after the conversation, coming up empty when you ask who it was afterwards. Nonetheless, it's an improvement.
The success is not solely attributed to you. Your mere presence alone is not enough to motivate Taehyung, no matter how much his mood might improve with you around and it's certainly not enough to alter the opinion of the student body. Rather, it's a combination of things that are difficult to outright pinpoint.
Maybe it's because they've finally gotten used to the idea that the President's son is here, that he's no different from the rest of them.
Maybe because he's made you abandon the suit and now dress in these common clothes, it's easier for the two of you to blend in.
Maybe it's due to the fact that Taehyung isn't being chased by bodyguards or surrounded in them anymore and as the visible alienation no longer exists, the social and mental one was slowly diminishing as well.
Whatever the case may be, you're proud to report back these findings to the President himself.
It's not just Taehyung's physical safety that you must ensure, but you're also responsible for the protection of his wellness as a whole.
"You know, you look better like this," he comments, turning his head around slightly as he continues to bike down the path. Taehyung's strapped in a bright, blue helmet that ensures his safety and puts you more at ease.
"I'm not saying you look bad in a suit. Trust me, you don't. It's hot as hell, but you look cute. Kind of like a real college student."
You glance down at your jeans and simple sweater. It's the best combination you could come up with after extensive research and asking for Jungkook's opinion.
It's not like you had any idea how a typical university student dresses day to day when all you've known were high school uniforms, police uniforms and then the bodyguard uniform.
And you're pretty sure if Taehyung knew you had a gun on your hip, hidden under your sweater, he'd think your outfit is a little less cute and a lot more lethal.
"What would you have majored in if you were in uni, dumbo?"
"I don't know."
You never particularly enjoyed school.
"You probably could've done anything," he hums. "You got pretty good grades back then. I remember. But I can imagine you being a chemistry major. You'd look so good in that lab coat. Or maybe in the mathematics department. Some kind of science or math thing."
"Keep your eyes ahead before we crash, Taehyung."
He listens and still manages to continue the conversation, thoughts traveling far distances in different scenarios that could never be. "You think we would've been friends?"
"I don't know."
"Course we would," he decides with a laugh, smile plastered on his face.
Taehyung's presence is overwhelming. He's loud, bright, energetic. You aren't. And that mere revelation would naturally put the pair of you in different circles and you'd most likely stay away just from being unable to keep up with him.
He'd be too blinding from afar, too difficult to approach if you didn't know who he really was, even if he wasn't the President's son.
Then again, Taehyung has a natural habit of sticking his nose in things that shouldn't belong there. An invader of personal space. Who pries open private cans? He's good at sticking to your side like gum.
There's a chance the two of you would be friends.
"Does it matter if we would or wouldn't be?"
"Of course it does." Taehyung turns around again with a warm smile. "I'd always want to be your friend."
You stare at him for a second before calmly stating, "We're going to crash."
"Oops." He swerves nearly hitting a telephone pole and laughs. "My bad."
Friends... You've never had many of them. But the idea that you'd keep each other company even as strangers is somehow pleasant.
A small smile that he doesn't see takes its place on your features.
The pair of you stop by the corner convenience store, grabbing lunch with Taehyung's insistence on it.
"Is there something you want to eat? I can get it for you," he says casually while dismounting the bike.
"I'm fine."
"Pssh... Sure. Tuna sandwich then." Before you can walk off, he stops you. "Can you stay and watch the bike?" He becomes sheepish with the long look you give him.
"There's no bike rack out here. Even if I use the lock, someone can just pick it up and steal it. It's happened before. Unless you want me to wait out here next to the busy, dangerous street and you can go inside the safe, warm convenient store yourself."
It's silent.
You turn towards the glass windows, finding the store empty and the teenage clerk in plain sight. As if to help with the deliberation, the college boy adds, "I won't get attacked. Promise."
You don't know how he can promise something like that. "Hurry up."
"Okay. Be right back. Don't worry about me, dumbo," Taehyung chimes and his hand pats your head once, making you flinch before he retracts his arm and skips away.
It feels like you're babysitting a child. While you enjoy his company on occasion, it's hard to say if now is one of those times. Everything is a constant battle, most of which includes you giving in to his antics.
The bike is leaning against the wall and you cross your arms, expression blank, watching him and the intersection. Naturally, your line of sight ends up falling onto the only moving entity close by.
A woman is walking out of the parking garage a few meters away, marching on the upward slope while talking on the phone. But you quickly notice a man in darker clothing walking in the opposite direction to her, hands in his pockets, eyes suspiciously pinned onto the ground.
He brushes past her roughly.
She apologizes. "Excuse me-"
The stranger grabs her purse strip and pulls.
She drops her phone, screaming, tugging her possession like it means the world. It's unimaginable that you're witnessing a mugging in broad daylight.
"Help! Help me!"
"Let go, bitch!"
There's not a moment of hesitation. You step forward and your pace quickens into a run.
The purse is yanked out of her arm but before he can escape, you throw your body forward, arms wrapping around his waist and using the momentum to push him down.
You tackle him, the fall cushioned by your wrists colliding against the concrete. Your teeth grit as the pain shoots through your flesh.
The man yells, face slammed into the cement. The woman steps back with a scream.
It's a struggle. Your technique is rusty after months without usage, but your muscle memory remembers well enough and you scramble forward while he's still caught off guard and trying to recover. You twist his arms back automatically.
"Stop fighting. Do not reach for your pockets," you warn in a low tone, ignoring the agony in your right wrist. Your knee is placed on his lower half, entire body weight used to hold him in place.
The man shouts and by then, people passing by have stopped, freezing mid-step with their eyes wide. "Let me go! Let me go!"
You look up, a strand of hair falling in front of your face, sweat built at your hairline. "Miss. Can you please call the police?"
"Y-yes." She's still startled, grabbing for her phone on the ground after a delayed moment and dialing.
"F-Fucking bitch," the man spits out, squirming to no avail. Luckily, a kind male bystander comes over to help you hold his legs while the victim is on the phone with the operator.
You ignore the twinge of your muscles and at the exact same time, the college boy you know saunters out of the convenience store singing your name. But he turns to his left, finding that you've completely disappeared, bike left to lean on the brick.
He shifts the other way where a crowd has gathered and he almost drops his plastic bag.
"Y/n?!"
To be continued...