When he is a well known photographer, who is absolutely obsessed with butterflies but you have fear of Lepidopterophobia
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That afternoon, Y/N had agreed to meet Taehyung at a quaint coffee shop to discuss the upcoming art exhibit and, more importantly, whether or not she would agree to be a part of it. As she pushed open the shop’s door, the warm aroma of roasted coffee beans and freshly baked pastries greeted her. Taehyung, seated at a secluded table near the back, waved her over with a soft smile.

"Thanks for agreeing to meet me," he said, his voice calm yet tinged with hopefulness.

The waitress appeared moments later, efficiently jotting down their orders—two crispy chicken sandwiches and sparkling pink lemonade, with extra ice at Y/N’s request. As the waitress departed, Taehyung leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table.

"So," he began, his tone gentle, "you said you’d have your answer today. But if you’re not ready yet, that’s completely fine." His reassuring words carried a quiet understanding, his eyes searching hers for a glimpse of her thoughts.

Y/N exhaled slowly, her hands idly tracing patterns on the tablecloth. "I would love to do it," she admitted, her voice wavering slightly, "but I can’t stand being near them. I tried earlier, but I... I failed." Her shoulders slumped as she sighed, her fingers picking at the corner of her napkin.

Taehyung watched her carefully, his expression thoughtful. "What is it about butterflies that you hate the most?" he asked, his tone was soft but curious.

"It’s the sound," Y/N replied, a visible shudder running through her. "The fluttering of their wings—it terrifies me."

Taehyung tilted his head slightly, a puzzled look crossing his face. "The sound? I’ve never heard that before."

"It’s hard to explain," Y/N said, her voice trembling as she picked up her sandwich and took a small bite. "It’s not just the sound—it’s what it reminds me of. I think talking about it might help." She hesitated, her gaze dropping to her plate before she continued, her voice quieter now. "It started when I was twelve years old. There were these two kids who used to tease me..."

Her words trailed off as a shadow of pain flickered across her face. Taehyung remained silent, his gaze steady and full of encouragement, as if willing her to continue at her own pace.

As a child, Y/N had always been the quiet, studious type—the kind of student teachers praised for her diligence and obedience. This earned her the unwelcome nickname "teacher’s pet" from a group of jealous peers. Their taunts and whispered remarks never seemed to bother her much; she brushed off their words with an air of composure that only fueled their irritation.

One day, frustrated by her indifference, the girls concocted a plan—a cruel scheme to humiliate her. They sneaked into the science lab during lunch and filled an unused utility closet with jars of live butterflies, capturing the delicate creatures with the sole purpose of using them in their twisted prank.

That afternoon, as the school emptied and Y/N carefully packed her books into her locker, they made their move. Without warning, they grabbed her, their hands like iron clamps on her arms. Y/N struggled fiercely, her cries for help echoing down the empty corridor, but they outnumbered her. Their strength was too much for her slight frame to resist.

Laughing cruelly, they dragged her toward the dark utility closet. Panic surged through her as she realised their intent. "Let me go!" she pleaded, thrashing against their grip, but her protests fell on deaf ears.

The moment they shoved her inside, the door slammed shut with a resounding bang, and the lock clicked ominously into place. Y/N was plunged into darkness. For a moment, all was still—then chaos erupted.

The loud bang had startled the butterflies inside the jars, and in their frantic attempt to escape, they began flapping wildly. One by one, the lids loosened, and the air was filled with the sound of frantic wings. The confined space became a nightmare as the creatures flew at her, their delicate wings brushing against her face, their spindly legs tangling in her hair.

The cacophony of fluttering wings filled her ears, drowning out her desperate sobs. In the suffocating darkness, she could feel their long tongues grazing her skin, their legs crawling over her arms and neck. The sensation was horrifying, like a swarm of living nightmares enveloping her. She tried to swat them away, but there were too many. Her panic rose as they clung to her clothes, their fragile bodies breaking apart and leaving wings scattered across her uniform.

Minutes passed, though it felt like hours, before the door finally creaked open. The girls stood there, laughing at her dishevelled state. Tears streaked her cheeks, her uniform was covered in torn butterfly wings, and fragments of the creatures clung to her hair. She stumbled out of the closet, trembling and unable to speak, her heart pounding so hard it felt as though it might burst from her chest.

From that day forward, the mere sight or sound of butterflies sent a cold wave of terror through her. What others saw as symbols of beauty and transformation, she could only associate with that dark, suffocating closet and the helplessness she felt as the creatures swarmed her. It was a fear she could never quite shake—a scar left by the cruelty of her peers.

When Y/N finished recounting her story, Taehyung sat in stunned silence, the weight of her experience settling heavily in his chest. At last, he understood the depth of her fear—the way it wasn’t just the flutter of wings or the sight of butterflies but the memory of humiliation, terror, and powerlessness that lingered beneath it all.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Taehyung said softly, his voice tinged with regret on her behalf. He reached across the table, his hand finding hers, his thumb gently tracing calming circles over her knuckles. “Those kids were cruel, heartless even. You don’t have to go through with the shoot anymore if it makes you uncomfortable. Your well-being comes first.”

Y/N hesitated, her gaze drifting down to where his hand rested over hers. The warmth of his touch grounded her, reminding her that she wasn’t alone in this. “As much as I’m afraid of them,” she began, her voice wavering, “I still want to do the shoot. My mom looked so happy when I told her about it this morning, and... I think I need to face this fear. I don’t want it controlling me anymore. But—” she paused, swallowing hard, “I’ll need your help.”

Taehyung’s heart softened at the sight of her vulnerability. He could see how much this cost her, how her courage was being drawn from a deep, determined well within her. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze earnest and filled with admiration. “Y/N,” he said gently, “your greatest fear is the thing I love most. But I want to help you see them as I do—not as something to fear, but as something beautiful, delicate, and transformative.”

There was a quiet sincerity in his words, a promise to guide her through this challenge with care and patience. Y/N met his gaze, and for the first time, the thought of facing her fear didn’t seem insurmountable. With Taehyung by her side, she felt a flicker of hope that perhaps, just perhaps, she could learn to see butterflies in a new light.

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