GREYSCALE WARMTH | TK

Chapter Seven

Again, a song that so dearly inspires me. It's in my native language but I really wanted to share it with you so here's an English translation I found online.

Also I don't know if I ever mentioned but this will be a short story of about 10 chapters

***

"you took my hand and saved me"

Jeongguk finds it ironic. How something so dear to him can change in just a matter of seconds, how something he's been waiting for his whole life can vanish and break in just a fragment of time.

Life is like that, he thinks.

It breaks at times in the most painful ways.

Jeongguk thinks the night he noticed Taehyung's shallow eyes for the first time was the moment his broke — the moment everything fell apart.

He remembers that night as he writes in his journal, remembers the moment they arrived at the restaurant and Taehyung just stared blankly at the two glasses by his plate — champagne and sparkling water.

He remembers the way he played with his food and the sadness that appeared in his eyes when the lights dimmed and turned into a red glow instead — someone had proposed and Jeongguk had mentioned how pretty the colors looked.

He remembers the way his boyfriend had nodded even if his eyes had stared blankly at the lights.

Jeongguk remembers every second as he moves his pen on the page. There are a few stains on the paper, courtesy of his messed up emotions, and some words are covered in dark spots of ink — mistakes he felt like not erasing.

He thinks mistakes are essential.

They pave the way to the right path so he chooses to leave the words there, a reminder of what he had wanted to write, of what he had chosen to change.

Jeongguk stops abruptly when he feels like he can't breath, then lets his pen drop on the table. He stares at it for a few seconds, feeling more tears roll down his cheeks as he watches it slide onto the smooth surface of the wooden desk until it falls.

All Jeongguk hears afterwards is a loud thud and, once he looks down, Jeongguk notices the large stain of ink on his carpet and the bent tip of his dearest pen. He feels no pain as he stares at it, which makes him scoff because, merely two weeks prior, he would have started crying at the thought of losing or breaking it.

Now, as he stares at it, he thinks nothing can hurt him as much as the thoughts of Taehyung do. Not even the sight of his broken pen, the only thing left from his father.

Taehyung can't see colors. Jeongguk had realized that after that night. He had tried many things — desperately — in order to check if his assumption was right. He had kissed Taehyung under the night sky, had caressed his cheeks, then had asked him if the colors around them brightened every time they kissed for him as well.

Taehyung had nodded but Jeongguk had seen the way his irises had avoided his.

As he sits in his chair, Jeongguk can't help but sigh at his own incompetence. He should have noticed sooner.

***

The next time he meets Taehyung is a few days later, after another press conference. His new book is supposed to be published in a month so everything's hectic around him — including his own mind.

Taehyung, as usual, pretends there's nothing wrong between them but Jeongguk is quite sure that the other is aware of the fact that he now knows the truth. However, neither of them can bring it up — the fact that Taehyung can't see colors.