Begrudgingly, i give in, mostly because he's too naturally charming not to. "And pixie dust."

Taehyung grins, satisfied, before he catches you by surprise, takes your hand in his, and pulls you into the elevator.

Much like the corrupt businesses whose main offices are only a few minutes walk away, i go from the top down. Taehyung says that it is like a very, very long slide. i say that it's an extremely slow walk.

He's an art student. i don't really know what else you were expecting. He stares at each piece until it bores into his eyes, fills up another cup in his soul, overflowing with color, with light and meaning and everything in between. Every now and then, he and i stop at the same one, inspecting each and every detail, and Taehyung will lean to the side and whisper in your ear.

He will tell you what he thinks of the medium, what he thinks of this piece and what he thinks of the positioning of that specific object. He tells you not how he interprets it in the eyes of the artist, but what it means to him, and how he perceives it. And, as the hours pass, i realize that, while i have been in museums before, but i had never felt like you were truly there. And here you are, standing in front of priceless pieces of art with a boy in love with art beside you, and he holds your hand as he takes you through what brings him more joy than anything else.

Well, besides perhaps, chemistry.

When i reach the first painting and sculpture floor, Taehyung lets out an audible gasp.

i round the corner and before i know it, you're standing in front of what could very well be the most famous painting of the nineteenth century.

"I forgot it was here," Taehyung says distantly, like he's forgotten who he's talking to. In the ink black of his pupils, you can see the oil painting reflected, the thick blue and yellow brushstrokes, each and every line on the canvas.

"Now, this piece I'm familiar with," i say, standing next to him and staring up at The Starry Night, an artistic feat, worth more than probably a hundred times your tuition, and a legacy. The legacy that The Starry Night left behind is one that you see still reflected today. i see it in all of the other people in this little room, clambering over one another just so they can get a glimpse. i see it in the little children who draw self-portraits in art class, Sharpies and markers and crayons littering the page.

And i see it in the boy next to you, who loved something so much he knew that he would be doing it for the rest of his life. He would be following a legacy, forever, until he forged one of his own. i look not at the art but as Kim Taehyung gazes at it, memorizing each and every stroke and imprinting it onto his brain. And i finally realize what art means: passion. It means that it fills you up, flows through your blood and into your heart, consumes you. And it means that the only thing you can do to prevent it from eating you alive is to spread it, and let others get a taste of the madness.

"It really is beautiful, isn't it," i muse. i don't know much about art but when there is something so mesmerizing, so stunning, in front of you, it's difficult not to notice.

i feel Taehyung turn his head, letting the gaze of his piercing brown eyes rest upon your figure for a split second before he turns back. "It is," he says.