Blue and Grey || Taejin

Chapter 28

The greatest stories are born from darkness, are born from the deepest, most desperate pits of the of the writer's heart, are born from the shards of glass that are embedded into their soul. They are born from the broken memories, from the everlasting trauma and from the heartbreaking loneliness one feels.

Stories, how big or small, are a coping mechanism, whether they are being read or written.

Taehyung had lost his love for reading for some time now. No, lost would not be the right term. It was more like he had become exceptionally specific about what he wanted to read. He craved for thril, for the shiver down his spine. He wanted something that blossoms slowly instead of unfurling all at once. He wanted something that made him laugh and cry just the same.

And yet, everything he penned down nowadays was nothing but pieces he would never read willingly. He wrote about gentle touches, soft kisses and the mandatory good mornings and goodnights. He wrote about holding hands in the dark and listening to one another's heartbeats. he wrote about the sappiest love that one could ever imagine, with no twists or turns or the occasional ex wanting to come back.

And he wrote about one character over and over again- shy, fleeting smiles and squaky laughter that made butteflies go haywire in his stomach, big, glassy eyes that held the most broken gaze, the most carnal hunger, the most desperate need for warmth, cherry lips that felt so soft and sinful, nimble fingertips that could melt the coldest ice and a mop of fluffy, fading purple hair that soread around the head like a halo everytime he got pushed into the mattress.

What worried Taehyung the most was the second protagonist, the lover who was a different person in every story- sometimes the distressed ceo of a multinational company who needed an escape from his responsibility, sometimes a prestigious artist hunting for the perefct muse, sometimes a single parent with a beautiful child hoping to find love once again, sometimes just a boy of barely eighteen with a whole, happy family and too many dreams for his own good.

The second protagonist was always someone too fictional, too smooth and unscathed to be real.

Taehyung chuckled bitterly as he closed his notebook, flinging it to his bedside table along with the pen. He moaned due to his sore muscles and rested his back against the pillows that were pancakes at this point and needed to be restuffed. It had been a particularly stressful day- eight clients and none of them him hard enough. He found sex mechanical, nothing that could go below the surface.

However...

Taehyung groaned as he hid behind his veiny hands and drew his blunt nails across his face before rubbing his eyes with his palms. He thought maybe if he could subject his... strange thoughts and feelings into words, he would realize how ridiculous he was, but instead it just made him see more colours.

At least, he was aware that it was next to impossible for a rat like him to even reach a deity like Seokjin's level; that was the only thing which was keeping him from blurting nonsense. Well, in fact, nowadays, he could not even use that perception to hold himself. That other day...

He was not sure if he was grateful for that interluding phonecall or not.

Anyways Taehyung checked his schedule for the following day on his phone and felt a foolish smile grace his lips. God, did he need to pull himself together?

A yawn erupted from his chest as he slipped down to rest his head on the pillows.

Sleep crept towards him soon as the last thought on his mind whisked away, leaving traces of a purple hair and expensive perfume.