beauty in the madness (un)
credit for the gif goes to whoever made it & posted it first 💜
(a/n: *peeks out from behind a curtain, nervously waving* “hey…! how y’all doin…?”
hello! i am coming out of hiding to say i would like to genuinely apologize for the delay in updates. in the time since i last posted, i started the official sequence for my major in college and things in my life picked up very, very quickly. along with the writer’s block i had for nephilim, i didn’t have time enough time to sit down and gather my thoughts in a work that i felt was worthy of you all. and as much as i like to finish one story before i start another, i also refuse to leave y’all high and dry for so long. thus, i felt this it was an appropriate time for this piece to see the light of day.
for everyone who has stuck beside me waiting for nephilim, and for all of your amazing, amazing comments and reactions, i’m here to tell you--never fear! the story will be continued, and finished. it isn’t going anywhere. it might even be returning sooner than you think-but i digress :) again, thank all so, so much for your interest, love, concern, and support! i hope you have an amazing day/night wherever you are! please enjoy this first installment of the upcoming series, the beauty in the madness <3 ~love, ati)
beauty in the madness, the beauty: part one of three {a prologue, of sorts}
yandere! kim taehyung x f! reader
warnings: yandere themes, violent behavior, physical assault
poet au, artist au
you, an introverted college student, stumbles upon a troubled young artist in the depth of his woes. this short interaction would take you on a journey to the beginning of the rest of your life, one that you thought would end in you meeting your soulmate and living happily forever ever. yet you must take care to remember that all is not as it seems...especially when it comes to human beings.
❥ happy valentine’s day!
------------------------------------------
“there’s beauty in his eyes
the brown spires that I see
so vividly reflecting my own”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“But you’re human, and that makes you beautiful.”
He lifted his head in shock, teary brown eyes poring into yours.
To this day, he didn’t know what to call this feeling, didn’t know how to grasp words fitting enough to describe the moment where he first laid eyes on you.
He must have made quite the impression, snot and tears dripping down his face with broken wooden canvases surrounding him and his school supplies all strewn across the grass, nowhere near his bag.
The bag which you happened to find and bring over to him.
You said that statement so assuredly, he had to pause.
You, however, smiled softly and repeated yourself. “You are a human being, and that makes you beautiful.”
Beautiful.
Many people at this university would use that word to describe Kim Taehyung. But what mattered was his opinion, and he’d never seen it befitting himself.
Temperamental?
Maybe.
Sporadic?
Yes.
Devilishly handsome?
Of course.
But beautiful? A word as intricate and delicate as that had no use being applied to his stature.
No, that word best fit the person that stood before him.
Draped in white from head to toe, your hair swaying gently in the afternoon breeze with a smile brighter than his future, the woman before him encapsulated the very image of an angel.
He had yet to take his eyes off you, but for every second they stayed on your visage, he was rewarded more and more. The clouds in the distant sky had moved on with the breeze, and the sun peered out just in time to form a halo behind your head.
Taehyung squinted from the intensity of the light.
You kneeled down, placing his bag on his lap. “I don’t know who you are, but I can assure you. You’re beautiful.”
There it was again.
The word that opened his chest up and planted funny feelings inside it, feelings that made him feel like he was about to throw up.
Or do something foolish.
Or fly.
Taehyung said something really meaningful in response, letting out a cool “Ugh.”
You threw your head back and laughed heartedly before getting up and brushing off your skirt.
“I have every reason to believe!” You waved goodbye, and the afternoon sun embraced your figure once more until you were nothing more than a dot, blending in with the rest of the rushing student body on campus.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kim Taehyung hated human beings.
Which, as a human being, was no difficult or great feat. There were plenty of reasons to hate people, justified and unjustified.
For example, Taehyung had woken up several hours early thanks to the pettiness of his housemates.
His hyung, Namjoon, was tired of everyone telling him how messy he was and spent the entire witching hour vacuuming the living room, as obvious as it was that it went against the decency of their housemate contract.
Taehyung glanced at the clock and realized his mistake. With a sleepy grumble, he went back to sleep, as one tends to do.
In the morning, however, thanks to his other housemate and roommate, Jimin, shutting off his alarm, Taehyung slept through one of the most important interviews of his career as a young artist.
He awoke to 7 missed calls from his professor and 4 missed calls from the interviewer themself. He shot up in bed, already calling his professor, but there was no hope. It was too late.
His once in a lifetime opportunity of being the youngest student from Rolis University to hang his own art in a gallery as reputable as the Xiaks Institute of Craft was gone.
It drifted out the window and was sucked up by a black hole like the vacuum that had woken him early that morning.
Now, don’t be mistaken. His hatred for human beings began long before the catastrophic events of this morning. But because he was having such a bad day, he decided he would hate all people just a little bit more than usual.
Wallowing in his misery, with plenty of anger to spare, he crawled onto campus and seated himself in the empty art studio, hoping to make himself feel better.
What had actually transpired was, in a series of actions fueled by unholy rage, he had taken all of his works, including his prized piece, and destroyed them all on the lawn.
Once the anger had finally dissipated, the gravity of his actions weighed on him until he collapsed at the bottom of a tree, sobbing. He screamed hordes of insults, complaining until his voice was hoarse about how much he could not stand the human race.
Until you had appeared, that is.
---------------------------------------------------
“I love those eyes
the eyes that sought laughter
and kindness
and love
and me
through the hard times
through the good times
I knew as long as I had him,
I would be okay.
We would be okay.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taehyung went home that night, brushed off the apologies from his housemate and roommate, and beelined to the basement.
They followed him, intrigued by his possessed behavior and watched as he wordlessly pulled out his paints and another canvas.
Throughout the rest of his classes that day, the only thing Taehyung had been able to see was your face. There were doodles of you all over his notes. He could not stop picturing that moment in time where the sun was hiding in the strands of your hair.
He immediately set to work recreating the image with pencil, erasing every curve and fold that did not feel correct to him. The entire time, he could hear your melodic voice repeating “You’re a human being, and you’re beautiful.”
It only took the next six hours to recreate the beauty that was his muse from the lawn, to put his raw emotions on the canvas. He had only stopped for a break a few times, but the resulting product was worth it.
He’d painted an exact replica of the scene he witnessed that morning: you, in your white attire, with a smile bright enough to rival the rays of sunlight peeking out from behind your head, the clouds in the blue sky overhead passing by without a care. It was exactly how he’d remembered.
Taehyung lifted the canvas off of its stand, gently put it to the side to dry, went upstairs, and promptly collapsed on his bed.
He skipped classes the next day, turning instead to his computer to email his professor and the interviewer a formal apology for wasting their time. He ended the email assuredly, a tiny smile gracing his lips, before opening his sketchbook and continuing to draw his savior.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Two weeks passed since the incident and Taehyung’s life returned to its relative state of normalcy.
He sat in classes, attentive but bored. He went home and bickered with his housemates. And eventually, that glowing, radiant image of you from the lawn dimmed until it rested peacefully in the back of his mind.
As the second youngest person in the household, Taehyung was used to being dragged around by his older friends. He only pretended to dislike it--as clumsy, loud, petty, and demanding as they were, they were also one of the few human beings Taehyung genuinely cared about.
So when Namjoon dragged his half-dressed (but impeccably stylish) self to a Open Mic Night at a cafe in the middle of nowhere (off the corner of Ninth Street and Fresco Avenue in their secluded university town), he was completely prepared to fall asleep on a comfy couch with a cup of hot chocolate.
Namjoon was the event host for tonight, as well as the last poet reading for the evening. What Taehyung discovered as he listened to each poem was, the closer to the end a person went, the more phenomenal their writing was.
His hyung went up to the podium after the snaps for the previous reader, making a couple comments alluding to their work. Then, he began to speak about the next person.
“Now, it brings me great pleasure to introduce this next poet. She has been writing from a young age, and always manages to find words to describe what she calls the ‘innate beauty of the world’. From the intricate to the simplistic, the overt and the subtle, she names it all in her heart and wears it on her sleeve for all of us to enjoy. Please, give it up for (Y/N) (L/N).”
Imagine Taehyung’s surprise when he hears that same melodic voice, nervously but lovingly speaking into the microphone. His eyes shot up from his phone and, lo and behold, there stood his muse on stage.
“Good evening, everyone!” you beamed so bright despite the dimness of the cafe. “I am truly honored to be here, to have heard so many amazing pieces tonight. Words are a gift meant to be shared, are they not?” The audience laughed kindly in response.
“The poem I wish to share tonight was inspired by someone who I found positively alluring. I hope my words can touch you in the same way my encounter with them touched me.” You smiled, opened your journal and began to read.
Taehyung sat entranced, captured by your appearance, your words, your voice. It was as though you were a siren, calling out to him hesitantly, but one note of your song and he was braving the storm to get to you.
Your poem, he realized (once he wrapped his head around it), depicted the two of you meeting that afternoon. You sang praises to his visage, comparing his tears to dewdrops on flower petals.
You had been taken by him, just as much as he was taken by you.
At the last word of the poem, silence blanketed the cafe. Soon afterward, however, the audience erupted into snaps and hollers, Namjoon cheering the loudest. You gave yourself a tiny curtsy before introducing Namjoon as the last reader of the night, and walked off the stage.
Taehyung wanted to jump up and go to you, but getting to listen to his hyung was the main part of the night he was looking forward to. Although a bit restless, he sat up in his chair and made sure to support Namjoon to the best of his ability throughout his reading.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the end of the event, it was Namjoon who had received the most snaps by far. And he was well-deserving of it in Taehyung’s eyes, for he could write like no other.
But despite his best efforts to find his angel, (Y/N), you seemed to have disappeared after the event. He went up to his hyung, who was finishing discussions with some of the other readers, and interrogated him.
“Ah, (Y/N)? She’s my junior in the Department of English, in the same year as you, Taehyung ah. She always disappears after the end of the night--it takes a lot for her to build the courage to attend and she doesn’t like to stick around for the questions.”
“Why?” Taehyung blurted. “She’s exceptional...she’s the only person that comes close to your level, hyung.”
Namjoon laughed. “That’s what I keep telling her! But no one can or should force her to stick around...it means the world to me that she came tonight anyway.”
Taehyung stuck around to help with cleanup at the end of the night. By the time the two traveled back, they only arrived at their home in the early hours of the morning.
Once again, Taehyung made a beeline for the basement and began working on two separate pieces.
The first one was the partner piece to the recreation of his muse: a self-portrait of sorts. While he had painted your (s/c) arm outstretched to him, he began painting himself, seemingly climbing out of the darkness that was his mind that day, arm desperately reaching to touch you.
He painted black clouds creeping out from behind the tree his back rested on, accompanied by dark chords shooting out of the gloom to wrap themselves around his arms, torso, and legs. The light that stretched from your fingertips, your words, your presence was erasing them the closer you got, portrayed by the frailty of the faded, broken lines on his wrist, getting darker and stronger as they passed down his forearms.
The second one was a recreation of the scene he’d witnessed that evening. And with the thought of the fairy lights from the cafe, the gentle smell of warm baked goods, and her melodic voice swimming in and out of his ears, Taehyung set to work once more.
When Jimin made his way to the basement to look for Taehyung the next morning, he nearly stepped on his best friend, who was sprawled across the floor as his two new creations lay drying, propped up against the wall.
------------------------------------------------------
“He always held me close,
whenever I felt like life was going
to devour me,
he stood there and fought it away
he was the night,
and I was the sad, broken
damsel in distress
but he saved me
when I saw him, the world
had light again,
had color again,
I could feel again.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The first thing Taehyung completed upon waking was wrenching his angel’s number from Namjoon.
The elder was reluctant to hand it out so easily and wanted to consult you about it first, but Taehyung ensured that the surprise would please you in the end. Thus with a heavy glare and stern lecture from Namjoon not to hurt his favorite underclassman, the sophomore was off.
Fiddling with his phone, he nervously debilitated over how he should introduce himself.
Should he mention where and how the two of you met the first time?
...so that you would remember him covered in tears and snot?
Better think again.
He recalled how he felt sitting in the audience that night and listening to your poetry. The way your words washed over him with a calm, loving sense of peace.
With a decided smile, Taehyung sent his first message to his muse, his (Y/N).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It had been a relatively exhausting day for you so far, which wasn’t saying much considering you had just woken up and prepared for classes. You were on your way out of the dorms when you received a notification from an unknown number.
You opened the message and your brows furrowed, trying to make sense of what was sent to you. A moment later, it became all too clear and you flushed.
“My tears have never been likened to dewdrops on flower petals before, yet there’s something so fitting about them coming from you. Thank you for the lovely poem, angel.”
Taehyung had been so proud of himself for that message, for keeping his composure and coming off as suave and put together as possible. After the monstrosity he’d deemed your first meeting, he wanted to make sure you would only see him in the best light possible.
Fabulously enough, it worked. You sent him a message back not even five minutes later, overjoyed that you had not only found the beautiful man you’d met weeks before, but that he had somehow heard the poem you wrote for him.
You asked him how he’d gotten your number and he responded, explaining how he knew Namjoon. You smiled at the mention of the upperclassman, a kind soul who always encouraged and supported you through your creative process.
Then you asked how he’d been doing since that day, and Taehyung filled you in on why he’d acted the way he had, and the opportunity he’d missed.
You sympathized with his cause, admitting that in such a helpless situation you wouldn’t know what you would have done either.
And then he joked that, rather than destroying all your best poems, you probably would’ve drawn inspiration from your feelings and written another one just as influential as the ones that came before.
The conversations between the two of you seemed to flow like the clouds. It was light and easy, drifting at its own constant pace, and the two of you understood one another in a way you’d never expected.
Perhaps it was because you were both artists who paid special attention and gave more effort towards your craft, or perhaps it was because you were so well matched.
Taehyung never told you, but he liked to think that it was destiny. He’d never been a firm believer of “most things happen for a reason” but, then again, you caused him to believe a lot of things he’d never considered before.
After a solid month of texting, Taehyung worked up the courage to ask you if you would want to meet up with him. He offered to take you out on a date at the same cafe where he’d seen your spoken word. To his glee, you readily agreed.
Thus began one of the least acknowledged, yet most influential relationships Rolis University would ever come to know.
Your love was pure, in every sense of the word. Unblemished by greed, or by other people praying on your downfall. You and Taehyung simply encouraged one another to do your best.
Taehyung showed his love for you without restraint, and this consistently made you feel bad, as your more introverted personality would restrict you from doing the same.
He always waved you away, however, claiming that it didn’t matter how quietly you spoke it, or if you would just kiss him quick before running off to class.
He always knew just how much you truly cared for him.
And he always showed just how much he cared for you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That night in particular had been one of the rougher ones in your relationship, Taehyung remembers.
The two of you had only been dating for about six months at that point. It was a beautiful night out, the type of night where it wasn’t so cold that the wind stole the sensation from their fingertips or kissed the tips of their ears red, nor was it so hot that it was muggy enough to cause people to shift uncomfortably in the heat.
The perfect kind of night, you liked to say.
He’d strolled into the cafe with gusto, fully prepared to enjoy another night of poetry. It wasn’t his favorite artistic expression in the whole world, and he really only showed up to listen to Namjoon, you, and, on the rare occasion, Yoongi, but Taehyung found ways to entertain himself.
He liked to play a little game with the lineup for any particular night. He would glance at the names and the title of their poems on the little provided program and, based on that one glance alone, bet on who he thought would have the third most successful poem of the evening.
(After all, you and Namjoon were consistent fan favorites. And he didn’t expect any less, as he had full confidence that the both of you were just that good.)
That night, he remembers glancing at the program and raising an eyebrow at the name listed above yours and Namjoon’s in skepticism.
“Hummingbird Beauty” - by Mateo Trian
“we are all made of stars” - by (Y/N) (L/N)
“badbye” - by Kim Namjoon
The title had peaked his interest the slightest bit, but as the night went on, he soon came to regret it.
“‘Hummingbird Beauty’?” He read aloud to Namjoon and looked up at the elder, only to find that his expression had soured. “Who the heck is Mateo Trian?”
Namjoon groaned. “I forgot they marked him down for tonight.” He sighed, sliding both hands down his face.
Taehyung snorted, gently folding the pamphlet and tucking it away into his pocket. “They didn’t just mark him, they put him down right before (Y/N). Is he that good?”
Namjoon pinched his face up in annoyance, the way he did when he wanted to yell or curse someone out but ultimately refrained from doing so for the sake of diplomacy.
He leaned closer to Taehyung, lowering his voice by several decibels so that the members of the club rushing around in preparation couldn’t overhear.
“In all honesty? No.” Namjoon glowered. “He’s the son of the head of the English Department, but he doesn’t have a lick of literary talent in his bones. He can barely tell a simile from a metaphor.”
Taehyung’s eyebrows shot up as he leaned back to look at him in surprise.
“Every so often, the department head will beg for us to let him read on stage to save face. He has us take pictures, put them on our social media sites just to keep up appearances. But his works...” Namjoon shuddered, not even bothering to finish his sentence.
“So he’s a tool.” Taehyung summed up.
“Pretty much. We don’t like having him show up and read, but this club and our Open Mic Nights are founded by his dad’s department, so it’s not like we have much of a choice.” Namjoon grumbled, glancing toward the door before averting his eyes just as quickly. “Speak of the devil-”
“Namjoon!” A cheery voice called from behind him, and Taehyung turned to see one of the most annoying people he would ever come to meet.
The fellow college student was only a couple inches shorter than Taehyung, with mousy brown hair and eyes that were green like the algae that floated at the top of the campus pond.
“Mateo.” Namjoon nodded with a polite smile, dapping him up. If the guy had any theories about Namjoon’s dislike toward him, he’d never find any evidence. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too, man! I’m pumped for tonight.” He turned to Taehyung with a smile that kindly displayed the rows of teeth that didn’t quite fit into his mouth and extended a hand. “Hey, how you doing, man? I’m Mateo.”
“Taehyung.” He shook his hand with displeasure.
“Taehyung here is like a younger brother to me,” Namjoon proudly introduced. “One of the top students in the university’s Art Department.”
“Dude, no way! You were totally giving me the artsy vibe.” Mateo grinned. “I heard everyone over there is stuck up their ass beyond belief--you fit right in!”
He then bursted out into the ugliest guffaw Taehyung had ever heard, and he stiffened up as he felt the other male’s fist hit his shoulder.
“Don’t worry, bro!” Mateo said, still chuckling when no one else was. “I’m totally yanking your chain. Loosen up! It’s a perfect night.”
Taehyung simply let out a smile (that looked more like a grimace) resisting the urge to punch the guy in the neck.
Just at that moment, Namjoon waved to someone from across the room. “(Y/N)! Come on over.”
You had walked out from the back area in search of Taehyung before the start of the show. He found you a wondrous sight compared to the person standing beside him.
For the past couple of weeks, the two of you would share a couch in the cafe, discussing people’s poems as they went before it was finally your turn.
You waved back at them with a hearty smile that made Taehyung’s heart melt.
For a split second, he thought he saw a shift in your expression when you turned to look at Mateo.
But just like that, it was gone, and you were already walking toward them.
“(Y/N)-”
“(N/N)!” Taehyung bristled as the sound of Mateo’s voice shouting your nickname overpowered his. You gave him a halfhearted wave as you approached, standing between your boyfriend and your senior, and folded your arms across each other.
“Hey, Mateo. Welcome back.” Your voice, soft and graceful as ever, was a welcome change to the foolishness Taehyung had been forced to endure for the past several minutes.
“Hey, sunshine.” Taehyung tried again, this time thankfully met with no interruptions as he wrapped an arm around your waist to press you into his side. He lay a gentle kiss onto the side of your head, and you flushed, returning the show of affection with a kiss to his cheek.
Mateo gaped openly at the two of you before pointing a finger, switching it back and forth as though he’d made some great revelation. “Whaaat! You’re dating our little (Y/N)?”
Your brows furrowed ever so slightly. Since when were you his anything?
Meanwhile Taehyung, on the other hand, was about two seconds away from committing murder.
“She’s not our anything, Mateo. She’s her own person.” Namjoon deadpanned, already exhausted before the event could even begin. “And these two have been dating for some time now.”
“I didn’t mean it like that! No, that’s awesome for you both.” Mateo spread his hands placatingly, a folded piece of paper that was presumably his work clutched tightly in one hand. “Cheers to the happy couple!”
“Thanks, but no need.” You gracefully turned him down, choosing instead to turn to Taehyung. “Do you wanna go grab our seats?”
He beamed down at you. “Anything for you, sunshine.”
Taehyung bid farewell to Namjoon and Mateo with a nod and whisked you away from there. He was relieved to be out of the other male’s presence.
Unfortunately, that was not even the most uncomfortable part of the night.
For the rest of the evening, you and Taehyung were subject to Mateo’s obnoxious boos for the lined up guest readers of the night, and when he did cheer, it was for those who had only signed up as a joke.
Taehyung watched you frown as you saw an underclassman slump back to their seat in tears, and the hurt you felt for them made his blood boil. He already knew what you were going to ask when you turned back to look at him, and he just nodded, mouthing for you to go.
You did this for a while, hopping between tables to comfort those who were subjected to Mateo’s bullying.
Finally, the first of many highlights to Taehyung’s night arrived.
It was Mateo’s turn to perform.
It turns out, “Hummingbird Beauty” was just about the most misogynistic piece of filth ever written.
In the poem, the narrator describes meeting who they thought was the love of their life. The thing was, the other person had no interest in them whatsoever. They continuously chase after and harass the person, the “hummingbird,” only to ridicule it until it no longer possess its beauty.
The entire time, Taehyung stared blankly up at the stage. There was no way this was real, right? Your underclassman deserved to be up there more than he did with that trash.
Even so, the moment Mateo was done reading, claps were heard from all around the cafe. They were slow and unenthusiastic, but he still received applause.
Taehyung was aghast.
How could anyone possibly think that was good?
At this point, you were preparing to take his place on stage, and Taehyung couldn’t have been more relieved.
There was a brief interaction while Mateo was handing you the microphone that Taehyung missed, but he was just so ready to focus on your reading and get out of there for the night, he thought he saw wrong.
That is, until Mateo sat next to him.
“Sooo? What’d you think?” He waggled his eyebrows at him as though they were friends.
Taehyung ignored him, of course.
“Ah, right. My bad. I shouldn’t interrupt while you’re paying attention to your girlfriend’s reading.” He whispered, continuing to speak. “I just felt you should know something. Y’know, from man to man.”
He glanced at Mateo, irritation seeping its way into his expression. The other male had no intention of getting the hint.
“What.” Taehyung whispered flatly.
“It’d be best if you heard it outside.” Mateo said, rising a few moments after. Follow me.”
Taehyung had no intention of doing so, but when he caught the look on Mateo’s face, he felt the need to change his mind. Besides, he didn’t want the prick interrupting anymore of the night than he already had.
Mateo led him out to the empty hallway that connected to the bathrooms.
“What do you want?”
“I’m going to need you to break up with (Y/N).” He said with a serious expression.
Taehyung paused in genuine shock.
“...What?”
“You heard me.” He said, jabbing a finger into Taehyung’s shirt. “I’ve known her for much longer than you have. We have a connection, and we have history. She’s supposed to be with me. So don’t go sticking your nose into relationships that you have nothing to do with.”
The fool then looked around as if there was someone who would overhear them and, rocking back and forth on his heels, said “I don’t know if you can tell, but she’s my hummingbird. I wrote my poem about her.”
“Look,” Taehyung interrupted, his irritation seeping into his tone now, “I don’t know what you’ve got going on in your thick skull, but (Y/N) and I are together now. Always have been, always will be. I wouldn’t let her go for anything in this world.
“Besides, if you had so much time and history, why wouldn’t you have made a move by now? Unless you did, and she didn’t reciprocate your feelings. So I hate to break it to you, but that’s all there is when it comes to that.” Taehyung finished and turned away, thoroughly done with both Mateo and the conversation.
“Oh yeah?” He could practically hear the smirk in the little shit’s voice. “If she didn’t reciprocate my feelings, then why did I get to cop a feel on stage?”
Taehyung froze.
And then, he snapped.
He remembers the hallway lights flickering off for a few seconds, and the red ‘EXIT’ sign hanging above the door in front of them being the only thing illuminating his expression of rage.
He remembers dragging Mateo out of said door to the thunderous applause that sounded from the audience, impressed by your reading.
He vividly remembers grabbing the brunette by his thick neck and repeatedly slamming his forehead into the brick wall, the crunch an extremely satisfying contrast to his unpleasant voice.
And he did that until he was satisfied, and then he flipped Mateo over to hold him by the collar.
“You didn’t get to do anything. You fucking assaulted by girlfriend, you self absorbed prick. You’re a nuisance to everyone around you, and I bet even little daddy dearest wouldn’t care if I left you a corpse in this alleyway. How about it, man? You tell me. Should I make good on my threat?”
“Nooo, n-no, I didn’t mean to, I swear I didn’t mean it.” Mateo was blubbering nonsense at this point, blood from his forehead cascading down his face in rivers, muttering shallow pleads for his life. “P-please don’t kill me, please.”
Taehyung stared at him for a couple minutes before he tsked loudly. “I shouldn’t even have to waste my time with the likes of you. Stop crying. You’ll live...for now.”
The other man sobbed gratefully, head swimming in every direction. “Thank you...thank you-”
Taehyung didn’t let him finish, jerking him forward to whisper into his ear.
“But if I ever catch you hanging around (Y/N) again, I will personally drain your body dry and use your blood as paint in my next masterpiece. Got it?”
Mateo whimpered pitifully, nodding in his desperation to prove he understood.
“Good.” Taehyung grinned, then slammed his head into the brick one last time, leaving his body to slump to the floor.
When you went searching for Taehyung later that night to gather help for cleanup, you found him hanging out by the bathroom.
“Hey, lovely.” You smiled and walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his midsection in a hug. “Where were you?”
“Had to make an important call.” He replied, grinning down at you and hugging you back. “I didn’t want to interrupt your or Namjoon hyung’s performance.”
"That’s fair. It’s a shame you missed it, though.” You hummed.
“Luckily for me, my girlfriend and one of my best friends are the two stars of the night, so they can read it for me anytime. And I’m sure you did amazing.” He nuzzled his nose into yours, then suddenly lifted you up and spun you around, and you laughed out in surprise.
Had you been just a bit more observant, you would have seen the drops of blood staining Taehyung’s shoes.
UnFortunately for you, you weren’t.
Funnily enough, after that night, the English Department head called Namjoon and told him that Mateo wouldn’t be coming around anymore. In fact, he wouldn’t even be continuing his education at the same school.
You shared the news with Taehyung in happy surprise, and he’d simply smiled at you, saying “Perhaps it was fate’s intervention.”
That night, he made another trip down to the basement, one that resulted in a haunting painting of a man holding onto nothing in the air.
His shadow lay before him, cast into a brick wall, and on the shadow, blood surrounded his head like a halo and cascaded down like a curtain.
His housemates were thoroughly impressed by the site, typically used to Taehyung’s darker paintings, but extremely put off by this one in particular.
(Maybe it was them, but the blood in that painting looked a little too dark…even after the varnish was applied.)
Yes, it was completely acceptable for you be a bit more reserved, to take your time when showing your love.
For Taehyung would always be willing to show how much he truly loved you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By the time most of his hyungs had graduated and you and Taehyung had entered senior year, your relationship was well underway.
Before he’d graduated, Namjoon held a ceremony where he’d formally inducted you as the head of the Open Mic Nights, taking up his old position as the organizer of the event and the last performer of the night.
Your boyfriend had proudly jumped on stage, presenting you with a brand new writing journal and a beautiful bouquet.
Taehyung no longer needed Namjoon to drag him to the cafe. He’d frequented the place enough to know the inside and outside well in detail.
He consistently attended the events, helping out with setup, cleanup, and most importantly, calming your nerves before you went out to read.
With his help, you gained the courage to stay around after all the performances rather than slinking into the backroom and hiding from any prying eyes.
Taehyung would never forget the look on your face when several starry eyed underclassmen approached you, entranced by your words and spewing questions about your poem. It took everything in him to bite his lip and hide the boxed grin of pride that was sure to burst out on his face.
While Taehyung assisted you with your craft, you did everything in your power to assist him with his.
Whenever the opportunity was presented, you would drag Taehyung to the nearest art museum and spend hours browsing around the galleries.
There were times where you felt that poetry was an absolute comfort to you because it could compensate and speak for you where, otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to find the words. But other forms of art didn’t need words, and you appreciated them just as much, if not more.
You never explicitly asked Taehyung to show you his paintings, just as he never explicitly asked to see your poems. You both felt that your art was very personal, and most times only wanted to share the best of the best with one another.
Of course, there were also those rare, precious moments where you’d show him the abstract thoughts you planned to turn into a poem, or he slid a small sketch your way.
No matter how difficult college and life had gotten for the two of you, you stuck together. You were inspired by one another, and you both grew and flourished together.
It was a love that almost stood the test of time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Druviere Fara did not take lightly those who wasted their potential in life.
As one of the most influential gallerists of his time, he picked and chose his artists with the utmost concern. He chose art that spoke to him, works that would not be found in his competitors’ array of blobs and splashes. Works that he could proudly call “art.”
Druviere Fara did not understand those who would willingly turn their back on fame.
As a lead curator in the Xiaks Institute of Craft, every fifteen minutes, he was meeting a young artist who had the potential to rocket up the artistic hierarchy. They approached him with determined eyes and impeccable fashion styles; something in their aura screamed “I am not of this world and it’s about time everyone else realized it.”
Years ago, he thought he’d discerned something akin to that in one art student his colleague had begged him to meet. They’d invited him over to Promise University and showed him the piece in person.
There was a certain tenebrosity that hung around that work, he remembered. Something like the attitude of the chosen artists of Xiaks, but something unlike it as well. Something that showed Druviere there was more to this student than what met the eye.
He’d been feeling generous, tired of the familiar faces at Xiaks, and offered this student the opportunity to have his art hanging in their institute, something so prestigious and coveted, surely there would have been no way to mess it up.
Yet two weeks later, the kid was a no show, and all of his calls were going to voicemail.
Druviere Fara did not go to voicemail.
He had put the student out of mind and went on with his day.
Yet, some time later, he had received an email from said student, a sort of apology for wasting his time.
Nevertheless, for an apology, the email sounded anything but apologetic.
Dear Mr. Fara,
I hope your morning is going well. I hope it is going much, much better than mine was the morning that we were intended to meet. I was, and still am, honored by the opportunity of having my art hanging in your institute, yet because of my foolish mistakes, I was unable to show you my best self and my best work. I sincerely apologize for having wasted your and Professor Kara’s time.
Upon having realized this, I lost myself to my emotions, becoming a force of destruction to everything around me, including my prized piece. I was too busy wallowing in self pity to go on--that is, until I met a certain someone. She has become my inspiration, and for her, I will continue with my passions and career in life. Rather than letting this be the culmination of my efforts, this will be my turning point.
I hope to be able to meet you again someday in the future, where you will once again be able to offer me the advice and opportunity I so carelessly floundered.
I also hope that, at that time, I will have works that are truly representative of myself and my potential. I used to only be able to see art through one lens, forcing myself to create works that I did not put my entire soul into. As precious as it was to me, my prized piece was one of those works.
Now, however, I am able to see the world through a much clearer lens. Perhaps a bit too explicitly, but clear nonetheless. As ugly, malformed, greedy, selfish, petty, and corrupted as this world and the people in it are, they are beautiful. And as an acquaintance of mine once said, we are human, and that makes us beautiful.
Sincerely,
Kim Taehyung
For the past two and a half years, Druviere wondered what possibly could have been going through this student’s head to make him think he cared.
Yet, despite his outward attitude, this email never left his mind. It never left his inbox, sitting at the bottom of endless requests and pleas for his attention. It left him feeling unsatisfied, and curious, like someone who had given up on finding a hidden treasure.
Kim Taehyung’s email laughed at him from the bottom of the screen, twinkling in a sort of satisfied victory. “I will get famous on my own,” it taunted. “I don’t need you.”
Druviere Fara never lost. And he most certainly was never chucked to the side like a toy that lost its appeal.
And with his mind made up, he pulled his chair up to his desk and opened the aged email.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As much as you loved words, you had a hard time finding ones that would appropriately describe your senior year of college.
A phenomenon unlike any other? A quick dive into Dante’s ninth circle of hell?
Whichever words you decided to go with, it was finally over.
You and Taehyung had both successfully gotten your degrees and, despite the lack of a clear path for the future, you knew that the both of you would walk it together, and that meant the world.
The two of you were planning to move into an apartment together next month, ready to commence the next stage of your relationship.
That night, however, Taehyung had hosted a graduation party, inviting his old and existing roommates and a couple of your friends to the apartment he still shared with his best friend and younger friend. The newly graduated and alumni spent time drinking and catching up with one another, sharing their plans for the future.
His roommates looked at him in shock the moment they’d seen your face, some teasing him behind your back. Although you weren’t sure why, you found it endearing.
You greeted them pleasantly, excited to meet the friends Taehyung had practically been raised with. Namjoon gave you a knowing smile as the two of you hugged.
The night was just beginning when a close friend of yours, Armani, stood up, claiming she had an announcement to make.
“I would just like to thank the wonderful host and all of his friends for their hospitality,” she giggled as she hid something behind her back.
“With as much as we have been through the past couple of years, it’s about time we get some good news, eh?” She waggled her eyebrows at you as the boys held up their drinks in agreement. You cocked your head at her inquisitively.
“As most of us know, our dear (Y/N) has a fantastic way with words. She delights the masses, scribbling in her journals endlessly and spends each day with her head in the clouds.” The guys cheered louder and you felt yourself growing embarrassed.
“I am pleased to announce that, because of all her hard work, her dreaming now comes to an end!” Armani slaps her hand on the table, bringing down and envelope with it. An envelope that stated it was from TreasuredLivres, an up and coming publishing company within their city.
Your jaw dropped and your hand trembled as you reached for the letter. Knowing Armani, it wouldn’t have been opened already. But they only would have sent this if--
“They want to publish a collection of your poetry!” Your friend squealed and tackled you in a hug as the partygoers cheered.
Your heart soared. “No way...there’s no way! Are you serious?!”
“One of the editors was a fan of your readings at the cafe poetry jams! They happened to sit next to me and I told them all about your works and dedication to your writing.” Armani gushed, hugging you while you held on to the envelope. “We exchanged emails, I snuck some of your poems away, and long story short...”
As long as it took with your trembling digits, you opened the letter and read its contents for yourself. Upon seeing the “We are pleased to inform you of our decision,” you knew it was the truth.
Your friends stood around you, cheering with excitement while it was all you could do not to let the tears fall down your cheek.
It was just like Armani to hide a surprise like this, just when you would be stuck in your mind, thinking about your next, unsure stage of life.
Taehyung gathered you in his arms, a familiar boxy grin on his face and held you as the sobs broke. They were happy tears, of course, but he made sure he was the only one who would be able to see them.
Eventually, you were able to calm yourself and thanked everyone for the congratulations.
To you, there had never been a more beautiful night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later in the evening, closer to the early morning, when the music had quieted down and everyone else had gone to bed, Taehyung gently took your hand and led you down the stairs of his apartment.
The walk down was familiar, and so was the smell of paint drying and the sight of canvases propped up against the wall.
What wasn’t familiar, however, was the bright, white sheets that covered each canvas.
He stood you in the center of the cold room, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. “Angel, can you do something for me?”
You nodded, a little nervous.
“Can you close your eyes for me? I need those pretty jewels to stay away until I say so, okay?”
You blushed and nodded again, closing your eyes and covering them with your hands for good measure.
You heard Taehyung huff out a laugh before he stepped away, rustling around with the sheets. There was the sound of a flip switching and some more rustling before he stated very, very softly. “You can open your eyes now.”
You slowly peeled away your hands, mouth gaping open at the fairy lights that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. They dangled over the canvases, the painting’s surface filled with imagery and color that brought more tears to your eyes.
It was you.
In his art, in his prized pieces.
It was you talking to him that first day on the lawn, you reading at the cafe, you looking up at a painting in the museum, you standing amongst a myriad of flowers in a field.
You had never imagined that, after all this time, Taehyung was as inspired by you as you were by him. He’d never said, and you never assumed. You didn’t want to hinder his process by asking any invading questions but to think he had you on his mind with such frequency that he could perfectly replicate your moments together...
It made you dizzy with happiness.
You turned around to say something, anything, but the sight before you made you stop short. If the paintings hadn’t made you speechless, this certainly had.
Rather than a box, Taehyung presented you with a (silver/gold) ring resting on photograph. You had seen this picture before; he always claimed it was his favorite one.
In the photograph, the two of you sat in the grass underneath the very tree where you’d first met. It was taken around your third or fourth date; he had suggested an impromptu picnic on the lawn so that the both of you would still have time to meet up that day before jetting off to classes.
You sat unbothered by the breeze, laughing in the picture with your face scrunched up in joy. He had a similar smile on his face, but rather than facing the camera, his head was turned toward you.
Taehyung gulped and gently picked up the ring. He flipped the photograph over, allowing you to see the words written on it, and you laughed as you started crying for the second time that night.
It was a poem.
He’d written his proposal to you in a poem, the bunched-together words telling tales of the moment he knew he’d fallen for you, and the promises he’d make and keep for you.
As you read, you had to keep pausing to wipe the tears out of your eyes.
When you finally finished, you looked up and to your surprise, he was crying as well. Silently, brown pools filled to the brim with water, glossy and warm under the fairy lights.
Like dewdrops on flower petals in the early morning, curling, stretching past the hurt.
Wordlessly, you nodded and flung yourself into his arms.
And the both of you dissolved into joyous laughter, refusing to let each other go long enough for him to even slide the ring onto your finger.
But he did, and Taehyung swears he’d never felt more complete than the moment he knew you were his.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I will never forget the beauty in
his eyes
as he looked into my own
and pledged his love to me.
and I will always remember
feeling the beauty in my eyes
as I looked into his,
and said “I love you too.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taehyung woke up the next morning over the moon.
He spotted his muse, still asleep, and smiled, admiring the way the morning light glinted off of your ring.
There were no words for the way that he felt, so heavily his love for you weighed down on his chest.
The only thing he wanted to do was to snuggle up next to you and go back to sleep, dreaming of your future life. However, an email notification on his phone caught his eye, and he whispered the sender’s name aloud in amazement.
“Druviere Fara...?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was a once in a million tale of meeting your soulmate in college, and living a life of happiness and success together forever after.
After graduation. you went on to become a fairly well known poet.
Of course, it took some time for your first collection to gain traction, but one well placed remark in an interview from accomplished poet and editor Kim Namjoon was just the right spark to put you on the literary map.
As your works flourished, so did Taehyung’s career.
The one and only Druviere Fara, unable to rid himself of that cursed email, met with Taehyung after all those years and finally got to see his paintings.
The tenebrosity of the young man’s work had not changed; if anything, it had just gotten stronger.
Yet it was because of that feeling, the emotions lurking in the shadows, that he wanted those same paintings to hang in his gallery.
“And who is this lovely young woman?” Druviere questioned the younger artist.
Taehyung smiled fondly, looking at your visage. “My fiancée, the acquaintance I spoke about in our email.”
Druviere nodded, intrigued by his portrayal of her image. “These works are exquisite...I must admit, I’m especially partial to the couple paintings of her and the self portrait you have created.” He cleared his throat, prying his eyes away from your painting.
“It would be good for these works to be hung in the gallery first, along with some of your other creations.”
The smile on Taehyung’s face didn’t drop. Rather, it became tight and cold, as if it were painful for him to keep his jovial expression up.
“With all due respect, Mr. Fara, I have no intention of displaying these to the public.” He spoke concisely and sharply, making it sound as though the aged gallerist were the one brought in to be scrutinized. “It is extremely personal to both my fiancée and I. She is not such an outgoing person in the first place. The only reason why I brought it here today is because you requested to see all of my works.”
Druviere stared at the young man for a long while. The gloom and anger of the self portrait seemed to be coming to life before his very eyes, and he knew better than to mess with such forces.
“Of course, Mr. Kim.” He laughed in a good natured manner. “You have provided me with quite the selection.”
He offered Taehyung a position as curator, giving him the opportunity to fill out the appropriate paperwork and attend an interview. Should he pass, he would be allowed access to design his own gallery in one of Xiaks’ museums.
“I simply request you hang your self portrait and a few other choice works in the gallery; everything personal may remain under your jurisdiction.”
Needless to say, Taehyung yearned for the opportunity. In front of Druviere, however, he remained calm and collected.
His icy facial expression sent a chill down Druviere’s back, and the older man preened with pride.
“That’s the composure of a Xiaks artist,” the gallerist gruffly praised. “Keep that, and we can send you well on your way, soaring to the sky.”
The temperature in the air rose back to normal and the graduate reached his hand out to shake. “Then we have a deal.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later, when asked, Taehyung would say that he’d always known she’d be his.
Later, when asked, their colleagues would mention how pure their love for one another was.
They would talk about how they inspired one another from the very beginning and went on to live very happy, enriching lives.
At least, that’s what was supposed to happen.
So how did it get to this?
How had the ending to your fairytale become so grossly corrupted, so irrevocably challenged?
When did the person meant to be your Prince Charming become your greatest antagonist?
Perhaps you were the one to blame.
After all, you were so captivated by his beauty that you couldn’t perceive the pools of madness that rested in him, simmering beneath the surface.
