1982

The curtains secluded the vicinity, subtly touching Jimin's fragile self curled up at the end of the room. The sunlight seeped through the windows, kissing him with delicacy, moulding the unwoven desires along with the intertwined thoughts and escalating memories.

Jimin's dilated pupils faltered in fright, devoured by the dark shines of the world. He was petrified; of himself; of the beats of music; of his heart and of the truth that seemed to be closer.

The soft texture of the curtain whispered to him that everything was alright, yet the voice in his mind was contradictory. His lips trembled under the kisses of the streams of light, as if he were abhorrent to the idea of inhaling happiness.

His hands were pale, as if they had been pickled under the sun for years. They seemed distraught, emanating an emotion though it was an lifeless body part. He was trapped in a prison, where darkness encompassed the void in his heart. He could not see anything past the prison; neither it was a coincidence that he was chained in it forever.

He closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing the shivers from the echoes of his colourless shadow. All he could see was the inconsistent past with fragments of memories that yearned to come to life once again.

Can you see beyond my broken mask of smiles?
A girl in the languid emerald sea as a loner,
Getting washed away by the salty waves,
Drowning in the bottle of truth and lies.

The drought of smiles like the pain of knives,
Not believing in the tears of an eye,
A world of battles with the treacherous minds,
Looking at the end of a new layered start.

The song began to play from his phone that seemed to mirror the rising waves in his broken heart. He let out a deep sigh of exhaustion. From the view of his eye, everything was distorted and he was colourblind. Neither he was taught that broken was beautiful, nor how to fix the broken wings.

Getting up, he resurrected his posture and faced the wall. There was a psychic emotion lingering in the room; as if he were there to vent out all his frustrations and desires that could never be fulfilled.

As if he were making up for his mistakes and colourless emotions. As if he were making up for the void of compassion and love in his heart. As if he were making up for his life.

For the life that was once lost.

He punched the wall once, feeling the agonizing pain travel up his nerves, lingering for a minute or so and then dissipating like the fog off a thick lake. Yet the mental pain made him to stagger back lifelessly, falling on the ground with a vulnerable thud.

His shadow reached out to him, as vulnerable as him. It converged with the wooden tiles, creeping up to his heart, devouring it. There was a monster with its own enigmas living in him, with claws sharper than his fake smiles and thoughts contradictory to his decision.

Monsters didn't live under his bed. He was his own monster; a monster living in his mind in its own beauty and peculiarity. It was slowly eating him up with the unheard questions and the prominent question made Jimin ponder over his life decisions.

"Why did Areum tell me that my past was coming for me?"

-

Jungkook stumbled into the studio, his eyes aimlessly wandering across the vast room for immediate assistance. His painting kit was strapped to his shoulder, and for the first time he was dressed proffesional, with a tiny smile on his face.

His hair was parted, giving a view to his beautiful doe eyes that enlarged when lost and squinted when confused. His hands were adorned with tattoos, with the emblem of being an artist; an identity. With the timberlands boots covering his feet, he tried to walk softly, so as to make sure that he didn't disturb the co-workers.

"Can you tell me where is Chim's room?"he blurted out, walking over to a cubicle where a lady was seated, arranging the papers.

"Chim? Sir, we don't have any tutor like that. You must have misunderstood the name,"she blinked rapidly, confused.

"Oh sorry, his name is Jimin; Park Jimin. I'm pretty sure this was the studio," Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Jimin? Oh sure, you'll have to walk straight and take two lefts. You'll see a room labelled with his room,"the lady pointed towards his right, nodding approvingly.

"Thank you. I'll get going," Jungkook bowed slightly.

"Be careful. He's a bit arrogant,"the lady silently hushed Jungkook, with a scornful glare on her face.

"I know him well and in fact, he's the sweetest person ever. It's just that he doesn't like strangers." Jungkook left the place without further ado and walked towards Jimin's room.

For what after seemed like eternity, he reached the room which was engraved with Jimin's name in big bold letters. From the outside, Jungkook could sense that the air inside the room was saturated with sadness and perplexion.

He knocked on the door slightly, making sure that it wasn't incessant or disturbing in any way.

He opened the door slowly, perking up his eyes slightly from the doorway. Jimin noticed him, with a fazed expression on his face, gesturing him to enter. Jungkook, on the other hand, was ecstatic, and entered the room with a warm smile on his face.

"Hello," Jungkook bowed slightly, making Jimin nod in annoyance.

"Why did you want to meet me?" Was Jimin's first question. He didn't reciprocate Jungkook's expressed and was nonchalant to the things that were going to commence.

"Do you perhaps by any chance know someone called Taehyung? His full name is Kim Taehyung," Jungkook questioned, his voice in a velvety rush.

"He's my client. What does he have to do with an artist like you?" Jimin trailed his eyes down Jungkook, pointing towards the canvases and stands.

"Oh, well, I actually work for him and usually, we collect the portraits of all our clients─ sort of a tradition which runs in our company. I'm his personal artists and the one assigned to paint you," Jungkook tried to manage, fumbling upon his words.

"So you mean, you need a portrait of me? Well, I have-"

"I personally need to draw you," Jungkook said, looking intently into Jimin's eyes.

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Jimin sighed deeply.

"It's just a portrait. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't get hurt... " Jungkook trailed off, nibbling his lips.

"I don't want random strangers to draw me," Jimin had a scornful glare etched on his face.

"I'm sorry, but I'll have to do it," Jungkook was persistent.

"If not, what will you do?" Jimin scoffed, running his hands through the neatly set hair.

"You have high chances on losing your job; your money and most importantly; your life. And I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want to lose this pretty studio of yours. Or do you?" Jungkook threatened Jimin, pointing at the radios and cassettes.

"What kind of a company does this anyway?" Jimin was afraid of losing his job. He huffed, snarling under his breath before finally accepting. "Ok, fine! What do I have to do?"

"You have to do just one thing," Jungkook took out the canvas.

"And what's that?" Jimin questioned, raising his eyebrows.

"Strip."

*******

Dance was my alphabets and I learned to make sentences out of them.

*******

A/n's note: sorry for not updating yesterday... Had to get in track with writing the descriptive style.

Oh btw, hows the new cover? I changed it since the previous one had a fanart and was pretty much not appreciable.

And the song was mine loll(the two para thingy.) So don't use it without permission