1981

The dancer swayed his hands along the pitch darkness that he was encompassed in. The music was rythmic, the beats faster than the pace of his life that seemed to drag him endlessly in a path with no ends.

The melody was subtle, with no lyrics nor emotions. It was just the depiction of dedication and passion. Perspiration drenched his forehead, droplets of sweat meeting the surface and splashing on the cold metallic tile after which they created a mirror of distorted reflection.

He danced without any care, swaying his body to the meloncholy music that lingered in the room. The beats echoed in his heart, resonating through his body and tingling in his skin. His hair stood on the end, as the fragments of memories came into life like a ton of bricks.

Floating on air, he brought out his contemporary style, thumping on the floor ever so often. The gravity supported his entire existence, but he defied it's rules as he opened his invisible broken wings and soared across the imaginary starry night sky.

"Jimin," a raspy voice called out for him, interrupting his daily routine. He halted his agile movements and looked around, gesturing for the visitor to enter the room.

"Namjoon hyung? Why are you here?" Jimin asked, grabbing a water bottle and gulping down it's contents.

"Did you forget that we had scheduled a meeting with a new client?"he chuckled, raising his eyebrows.

"We still have an hour for that, hyung,"Jimin said, between breaths.

"Just wanted to remind you. I remember that last time you had to do everything in a hurry and you almost missed the client," Namjoon laughed slightly, reminiscing the memory.

"Come on, hyung. It was just that one time. I don't know why are we even doing this anymore," Jimin said, pursing his lips together.

"You promised," Namjoon stuck his index finger out, pointing to Jimin.

"Your forced me,"Jimin said accusingly.

"Oh come on, chim. It's the only way we can earn," Namjoon tried to cover up.

"I can understand, hyung. What's the client's name this time?" Jimin asked, sighing deeply.

"Taehyung; Kim Taehyung," Namjoon said, smiling softly.

"That name sounds so familiar," Jimin thought for a while.

"You must have probably heard it somewhere in the music field since he is a saxophonist," Namjoon blurted out frantically.

"Must be. Anyway, formal or causal?" Jimin questioned, wiping the sweat with a dampened towel.

"I think we better go for casual. But be sure to wear a cardigan since it's cold outside," Namjoon instructed the younger.

"All right, hyung. I'll get going then," Jimin said, heading towards the end of the room to pack up his belongings.

"I'll get going too. See you in an hour." Namjoon said, bidding goodbye to Jimin as he left the room.

But little did they both know that someone had been discreetly observing them.

With a black mask.

-

The painter looked at the empty canvas in front of him. With a stargazing white colour embedding the board, it was a stark contrast to his black coat and brown boots he was clad in.

A brush with beautifully and delicately picked out brown bristles swung loosely from his fingers.

With the sunlight seeping through the window, glistening on the painter's face, he stuck out his lips as if he were discreetly making out the masterpiece he was going to draw.

The sky was a deep colour of orangish hue without any signs of serenity, abhorrent to the painter's idea of any normal evening.

He despised sound, for it was nothing but the emblem of empty loneliness. The canvas in front of him was placed on a stand, and everything was ready.

Paints bottled up and lined up neatly along with brushes of different sizes yearned to come into life at the artist's touch.

He filled a cup of water from the nearby tap and placed it near his pallette.

His painting usually depicted the inner void that was eating him up. But this time, it was different.

It was a void that would devour him from inside out. Neither being the voyage to his inner self nor the thriving for success, his braincells ran helter skelter to find the answer.

But his heart knew that the painting was for a cause; for a cause which only his memories knew.

He had visualised smooth skin, with no blemishes except for tiny pores that allowed penetration of water.

The kind of skin that would lurk him into the cavern of apocalypse. It was easy to reciprocate, for it had a deep impression in his mind. It had a insolent past behind it, but he knew that the smoothness to it would always remain the same.

He opened the first bottle of paint. It was a light colour of yellow orche. Taking one of the thinnest brushes, he dipped the brush in the diluted paint solution before making the first dab on the canvas.

Drops of water dripped from it, dragging the colour until it morphed into the grainy structure of the canvas.

He made another stroke, this time, it looked more clear. It was truly going to be an exquisite piece of art but not something which could be exhibited in the museum.

The outline with a yellow orche was finally completed with one last stroke on the canvas which was once colourless and emotionless.

Dipping his brush in a deeper shade of the same colour, he overlapped the light ones, making sure that the outline was still perfect like his visualisation.

He cogitated for a minute whether to draw the slim fingers that once caught his attention, but finally decided not to do so. After all, it was those same fingers that turned his nightmares into reality.

He aimlessly let his eyes wander over the futile painting that covered one-fourth of the canvas in front of him. It was devoid of any love or compassion. But, it was for a cause.

The painting was as incomplete as his life, but as smooth as the emotions that failed to overpower him. It was a masterpiece, but at the same time, accentuated his failure.

None of them could decipher the meaning behind the painting in front of him, for it just a monochromatic mess of colours.

Sighing deeply, he signed his name at the end of of painting.

Jungkook

And his name was incomplete just like his painting.

**********

Nice meeting you again, isn't?

*****

A/N's note: Another life? What do you guys think?