A/N: This chapter starts off with an event Y/N attended that happened a month prior. It then flows early into the night of the same event and then finally ends at the end of the night. Sounds confusing but it will make more sense as the story progresses!

Enjoy!

...

[ ' 1 month ago. ' ] 

[ .... ]

"I don't know if I can do this." Your lips twisted to the side as you fixed a stack of portfolio pamphlets on a greeting table, "It's been a long time. I want everything to be perfect." You adjusted the packet of papers detailing details of who you were, and the schedule of the event being held tonight.

Your assistant followed behind you quickly, fixing the pamphlets back into their rightful place after you had adjusted them. Knowing you well enough to understand that you would come back and fix them exactly the way they once were by yourself all over again,

"You deserve to do this. To show everyone how strong you are." She reassured you with a confident smile on her face, "You've been through so much these few months. Created beautiful art too. Everyone needs to see it." She nodded enthusiastically, "Now let's go head in. You shouldn't be out here doing what the other assistants are supposed to do." She encouraged you to step through the large doors leading into the venue, "Everyone's waiting for you." She whispered from behind your shoulder and you took a deep breath, nodding your head at the venue assistant as he opened the doors to the hall entrance for you to enter.

"Here goes nothing."

[ ... in the auction hall ... ] 

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us on this grey, rainy evening. It's an honor to welcome you on behalf of our foundation to tonight's gala."

You groaned under your breath and your assistant nudged you gently with her elbow before leaning in close to your ear, "You got this." She whispered, and then you groaned a bit louder in response when your assistant asked you if you were ready, shaking your head as a silent 'no' with your lips pressing together tight to refrain yourself from making anymore obscene noises while the announcer continued,

"Tonight's event is sponsored by the Art Institute of D.C. with special guest contributions from the Artists for a Cause organization." The announcer took a moment to smile at the crowd and you took that chance to gulp the rest of your champagne swirling around in your glass.

Swallowing down the fizzing liquid, you glanced around to see if you could catch the eyes of any waiters. You spotted one a few feet away and you did everything in your power to get their attention. But it was out of your luck as they were too far and too busy serving other guests to notice your intense gaze on the back of their head. It was worth a shot though.

So, you stared. Stared some more. And then stared at their back until they turned around. Then you began to raise your hand whenever you thought they were headed your way, blinking several times when they finally faced you. Fuck, of course it was of no use. They could hardly see you from your stance at the front of the stage. How shitty. You couldn't even have a shot of anything before making your way onto the stage as your assistant already gave you a heads-up that the announcer will be calling you to the stage soon.

You started fidgeting at that. Fingers playing with the expensive fabric of your dress. And then the set of diamonds clasped around your neck. You didn't want to draw any more attention to yourself. Which was hard. It was hard not to have anyone looking at you when you were the reason they were all gathered in this hall anyways.

You had to remind yourself that you were a professional. You were being paid by the Art Institute of your state to be here. To showcase your art. To have these rich, old fucks buy your shit and hang it on the mantle of their fireplaces. Or do whatever rich people do with art. 

'Get it together.'  The better part of your brain shouted at you, and you sighed as if you were a child being scolded. 'Fine.' The other voice in your head gave up. Your hands clasped tight behind your back when the voiced died, and you dug your nails into your palm, forcing yourself to control your breathing while you stood off at the side of the announcer's stage.

You refused to keep your eyes on the crowd before you. Choosing to stare straight ahead at the large crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the distance. Wondering if the chandelier fell, would it scatter into a million pieces or would it crash and fall into a hole in the ground instead....

If the latter happened... Could you crawl into that hole and disappear too?

You were never one for big, fancy events like this. You hated the entire process. From having to squeeze into the tightest dress known on earth and fitting your feet into tall (and uncomfortable) heels. To having your hair gelled, pulled and hair sprayed into a skull paining up do.

If they preached so much about artists being able to express themselves, why didn't they let them come to galas wearing sweats and a hoodie? They should change the rule of dressing fancy because who gave a fuck anyways? Who cared when it was always the same every year. The same venue. The same announcer. The same attendees. The same greying hair and wrinkled faces greeting you. But of course, one thing that stayed the same without fail was the money.

Yes, a portion of proceeds from the auction will be donated. That was the truth. But the check you'll cash out once this boring ass event is over, was worth more than the auction, art and price to throw this event in general.

You were grateful, of course. Not many people can make a living off their craft. And you weren't always this well off either. You too had your days of being a starving artist as well. But you worked hard. Worked until you made it. Now, here you were. Standing tall and proud at an event sponsored to showcase your art and your art alone. You were damn proud of yourself. And the bag you were about to catch after this wasn't anything to complain about either.

"We will be showcasing beautiful pieces that were handpicked by the art Institute themselves for you to auction on. And of course, a percentage of the proceeds made tonight in the auction will go to organizations fighting for a cause." The announcer chirped in excitement, "Tonight's gala will be focusing on a very special artist..." He took a dramatic pause, and you held your breath. Feeling your assistant shift on her own feet from next to you as well,

"This person has been through hell and back. With the media scrutinizing her every move. To her own personal battles. But! --" The announcer had his finger up to silence the crowd before he continued to speak, "--Just like a phoenix rising from its ashes, so has this artist." There was another eruption of applause, and you felt your knees weaken at the noise, "She is a twenty-two-time award winning artist. Collecting plaques, awards and trophies from art institutes all over the United States and Europe..." He went on.

"Showtime, boss." Your assistant mumbled under her breath just for you to hear and you forced yourself to smile as you and the announcer both looked at each other before they began to speak again,

"...Our artist tonight is someone we hold near and dear to our hearts. She has been in and out of the limelight for some time now. Taking a break for a few months and now, finally... choosing tonight's event to make her grand come back. We've missed you, Miss Y/L/N. Please welcome her to the stage, everyone."

The dramatic lights blinded you for a second the moment they hit your face where you stood and although you wanted to shield your eyes so that you could see, you instead put on a bright smile on your face as you faced the crowd and gave them a wave. Hearing their applause grow louder from your engagement with them,

"This way, Miss Y/L/N." Your assistant being as helpful as she's always been, led you to the stage and you took hold of the announcer's hand as he helped you up the stage to the platform,

You did a little shimmy onto the stage, mostly because you were trying to walk properly in your heels and didn't want anyone to notice that you were about ten seconds away from kicking them off your feet and launching them into a wall instead, "Nice to see you again." You smiled at the MC, giving his hand a gentle squeeze while he guided you to the podium.

You cleared your throat when you approached the stand, feeling the nervous jitters creeping back into your stomach as you faced the crowd once more. There wasn't any more time to make a dash to the exit. After all, you had every opportunity to opt out of attending tonight's event if you truly wanted to. You just needed to remind yourself not to let a split-second feeling of nervousness be the reason to miss out on this chance.

Nevertheless, no matter how many times you've done this. No matter how many events you've attended, you couldn't shake the nerves. But you couldn't fuck this up now. Couldn't chicken out. As this was your comeback. The moment you waited ages for. The time you dreamt about. A time you didn't think would ever happen again. This was the moment you didn't think you could live to see. But you lived. You survived. And you were here to show everyone that no matter what they thought. No matter what the media said... you were here. You made it. And it was time to shine.

You waited for the applause to die down and then you touched the mic, testing to ensure that you could be heard before you leaned in with a smile, mouth opening to speak but the applause of the audience roared louder than you could even imagine, "It's been... a rough while... But I'm here." You started and the applause died down,

"We love you!" You heard someone shout from the way back of the crowd and you let out a laugh,

"Thank you... Thank you all so much for coming tonight." You started.

[ ' .... ' ]

"SOLD to the K.N.J Foundation!"

"And another SOLD to the K.N.J Foundation."

"And last... but not least.... Six million dollars! Going once... twice...--"

"6,130,000" A voice went from the back and the announcer nodded, eyes searching the crowd to see if there are any more bidders, "Going once..." He began the countdown, "Twice..." He paused for a moment and then he announced, "SOLD to the newest bidder of the night... K.N.J! Spectacular!"

"Holy fuck." Your assistant immediately downed the drink in her hand when the announcer shouted that your final piece of artwork for the night was sold at the highest fucking price she had ever heard too, "Same fucking company." She glanced down at her phone, "I've been keeping track on who's bidding and winning." She leaned into you, showing you her phone, 

"This KNJ Foundation bought out almost the entire auction." She whispered, eyes wide and in shock while she swallowed, "Six point one million. Damn." She took a breath, looking at you, "Who is this person?" She blinked several times and you both tried to nonchalantly look around to see if you could spot the bidder, but it was to no avail.

"It can't be just one person." You whispered back to her, lips pressing together while you eyed the audience, "They're too quick to be just one person." You noted and she agreed with a soft hum.

The bidders were hidden. But you knew they had to be more than one person. A duo. An anonymous bidder and buyer. One was calling the shots. The other was bidding. You couldn't figure out who they were as the sea of people contrasted with the ceiling lights in your face made it difficult to spot a single soul in the crowd.

"You better find them later and thank them... whoever they are." She nudged you with a smile and you nudged her back harder, feeling her silly grin playing around her lips at her comment, "You know... thank them properly." She mused, "If they're attractive enough, of course." She corrected herself when she felt your glare burning into the side of her face and then she laughed.

You scoffed at her comment, head shaking in distaste as you spoke, "I'm not fucking anyone from this shithole." You almost smacked her for her nonsense but instead, found yourself letting out a small laugh as well, "These old shits wouldn't last ten seconds with me." 

Yeah, it was bad to be straight up talking shit about the people who bought your art. But these people didn't love your art. They didn't love you. They just wanted to be the ones to claim that they owned a part of your exhibition.... A part of you.

They wanted to be the ones to gloat to the press that they met and spoke to you because the press themselves could never get a hold of you. You hated the spotlight. Hated the paparazzi. You didn't do interviews. Didn't do the public. Maybe a few photoshoots here and there. Even some editorials if you felt up for it. But other than that, you took being private very seriously. 

And that's what the press loved most about you. No one gave a fuck about artists. Artists weren't celebrities. But... something about you was captivating. So damn alluring that no matter what corner you turned, the paparazzi was there. Ready to put their awful cameras in your face and catch you on your worst days.

It meant a lot for these people to get the chance to meet and converse with you. Especially since this has been your biggest night yet. The world had been wondering where you've been. After all, the last they heard of you was of your engagement to longtime boyfriend being called off. 

That was another thing about you the media loved. Them painting your failed love life out to be a tragic love story. You remembered reading from the headline of an article depicting your breakup in a dramatic light.

Was it fame or foe that ended this artistic duo?

Did this mystery woman end the relationship of these two world class artists?

That's just what some of the articles you read said. There was more but you couldn't bring yourself to give anymore of them attention. All you knew was that the media didn't give a fuck about your privacy. They didn't care about your overdose. Didn't care about your mental health. None of that was on the news (rightfully so). But, it didn't seem as though media wanted to headline anything about your struggling mental illnesses either. 

All they were worried about was the fact that you and your ex had broken up. To think that they could care less if your mental health was dwindling and the illnesses you fought so hard to silence had returned louder and deafening than ever made you sick to your stomach. And that's why you couldn't stand them.

It was all too much for you and you decided to disappear not long after the news of your breakup hit the stands. And it had been close to a year since you went into hiatus. At first, you just wanted to take a few weeks or even a month off. Just wanted some time to think. To breathe. To scream and cry too. And all of that would have been fine if no one knew. You would have come back and pretended everything was fine. But that wasn't the case...

You later found out that someone sold the story to the tabloids. Someone leaked your breakup to the media. You didn't think it was your ex. He wasn't that scummy. But someone on the inside who knew you stabbed you in the back. Used the moment you were at your darkest for their own wellbeing.

'Hope the money was worth it, whoever you are you.'

You never found out who did it. But in a sense, you were glad they did. Them leaking your private life to the media gave you a reason to take the break you desperately needed. Unfortunately, you didn't think your mental health would dwindle as much as it did while you were taking your break. Part of you felt guilty for taking time off for yourself. You began to beat yourself up over it. And that was unfortunately what led you to the pills... the overdose.

Now look at you.

Oh, you couldn't wait to see what Channel 6 News had to say in the morning. A phoenix rising from its ashes is what the announcer called you and damn, you hoped they would use that in their headlines tomorrow.

And yes, you would find whoever oversaw this mysterious K.N.J foundation. And yes, you would thank them. Not in the way your silly little assistant suggested because sex wasn't on your mind tonight. You were too busy riding the wave of killing your comeback. 

Besides, it was probably an old schmuck with tons of money to do whatever they wanted with it anyways. In this case, said schmuck liked your art enough to buy it all out for 6 million whopping bucks. You still couldn't believe it.

[ ' .... ' ]

[ ' Before the night started. ' ] 

"Woah... there she is." He was as giddy as a child. Almost bouncing in his seat when you graced the stage with your presence, "Hyung, I never thought I would ever see her like this."

"See her like what? You can't even see her." His hyung grumbled, clearly bored and disinterested, "She's seven hundred feet away from you and looking like a speck of dust in this auditorium. You see where our seats are? They put us all the way in the back." He made a tut noise with his lips, stark black hair blowing above his head as he puffed air into his cheeks before he glanced down at the pamphlet in his hand, eyes on a page with pictures of you showcasing your art at the previous gala hosted nearly a year two years ago,

"She is pretty though." He quirked a brow when his eyes fixated on a flashy diamond ring on your ring finger in the picture, "Didn't know she was engaged. Huh." He mumbled absentmindedly to himself and then flipped the pamphlet over to study the other side of it.

The younger man snorted, peering over his hyung's shoulder to look at the same pamphlet he had been previously gazing at, "Told you." He chimed with a proud smile, "She's gorgeous." The man almost let out a dreamy sigh and he caught his actions before he embarrassed himself even further, "She was engaged to her high school sweetheart. Artist too. But they broke up." A small frown tugged his lips downwards, "She stopped making art for a while after that. Today is the first time she's being seen again after almost a whole year."

"You know too much for your own good, Namjoon-ah." The gentleman teased, "You sound like our fans."

"Don't compare our precious ami to Namjoon. Please. I'm begging you." Another voice chimed in with a scoff, "He's borderline stalking her at this point."

"He wants to date her."

"To marry her."

Namjoon was stuck in his own little world. Too busy feeling the excitement from being in the space as someone he respected (and adored) to even hear his hyung's clowning him right in front of his own face, "Do you think we can meet her after?" The obvious fanboy seemed hopeful and his dark haired hyung felt kind of bad to burst his bubble. 

Thankfully, the older brother didn't have to step on any toes tonight because just as the gentleman asked the question, the other hyung butted in just as expected, "Hah! Meet her?" The caramel-colored hair male rolled his eyes, almost guffawing at the ridiculousness, "You can't even afford her." He let out a soft cackle at his own joke, head tipping back as he chuckled, "Ah, who would have thought. The Kim Namjoon. Falling in love with a person he's never met." He chortled, mouth snapping shut when he caught Namjoon glaring at him,

"Seokjin hyung's just kidding around, Joon. Don't choke him out just yet."

"Exactly." Seokjin pursed his plump lips after wetting them, a coy smile growing along his mouth while he began to twiddle his thumbs in a mischievous way, feeling like a lightbulb had gone off in his head as he smile,  "I have an idea." He leaned in towards the younger male, "KSJ Inc versus The KNJ Foundation. Let's see who wins the bids."

The black-haired gentleman cursed under his breath then twisted his lips to the side while he rolled his eyes, arms now crossed over his chest while he spoke from where he sat sandwiched between the two respectfully broad shouldered and broad chested friends, "You're both sister companies though. It's a write off so win win for each of you no matter what." He stated in a matter-of-fact tone before getting cut off by the other hyung instantly,

"Why do you need to get so technical all the time? It's the thrill of it all, Yoongi." He grinned, hand resting on the dark-haired man's thigh and giving it a pinch, "Stop being such a party pooper and join us. I'll even let you on my team. Bid with me."

Yoongi's hand flew to his thigh as he jumped in pain when he got pinched, "Ow, bitch." He hissed, prying the mischievous fingers dancing over his leg off and swatting the hyung's hand away from him, "God, I'm tired of you guys." He rubbed over his leg, "Gambling is an addiction." He made a tch noise with his lips, "You guys needs help... Therapy. Especially you, Kim Seokjin. You're gonna go broke before the night ends."

"Sounds like he's in." Seokjin grinned wildly, giving Yoongi's leg yet another pinch.  

[ ' After the auction. ' ] 

"My art isn't even that great." You muttered under your breath to yourself, "Not enough to spend millions on it just like that." You grumbled, "It's probably another hundred-year-old fart that bought everything." You reiterated the same sentence you said earlier this night just as an older attendee passed by you, catching his aged eyes on your cleavage. 

You forced yourself to smile at him and then crossed an arm over your chest at once to cover yourself, 'I'm tired of looking. If they didn't approach me by now, then they really wanted to stay anonymous.'  You thought to yourself, lips tracing along the rim of the glass of wine in your hand while you stood there in deep thought.

Five more seconds and then I'm out of here.

That's when your assistant came almost speed walking up to you, her eyes wide and as crazy looking as ever while she tried to mouth something you couldn't grasp when she scurried up to you, "Miss Y/L/N. There's someone that would like to meet you." She still had the wildest, cracked out look on her face and you couldn't understand why she was acting so dramatic,

Just as you were about to tell your assistant to stop being weird, a gentleman's voice cut through the stillness in the room from behind your assistant. It was a deep.... deep fucking voice from. So deep that it almost spooked you. 

But when you looked over the head of your assistant and he spoke to you, that's when felt your world tilt... Forever, 

"I love your art."

...

End of chapter 2.