from me to you. → kth | ✓

27.

chapter twenty-seven: doc martens

IT IS OFFICIALLY the day when everything is to fall into place and it has come faster than it needed to.

Usually, everyone's happy on a day like this one. I might as well be the first person who isn't.

But, the least I can do for now is cooperate.

I don't know what happened between my brother and Taehyung, but with a warning like that, I clearly need to watch my back.

At least four women are waiting for me at the hotel, arranged to get ready and take a photo shoot. I park as best as I can, sticking my head out the window every now and then to approve my perfectionism.

I signal to the ladies to follow me indoors and we finally settle in the suite I'm supposed to be getting ready in.

As I sitt and patiently let my treatment start, my mind automatically drowns out everything around me. It does that quite easily, but with the negativity currently surrounding my life, it isn't exactly smart to consume yourself in your own thoughts.

Every so often, I'd snap out of it. Each time, I'd notice a new thing. Like how each woman, have identical suitcases but different jobs. Simple, yes, but fascinating in a little way of its own.

A brunette with hazel eyes did my make-up while another with blue eyes started adding extras to the dress. They were all kind, respectful and minded their own business. All I received were allergy questions and smiles of admiration here and there.

At the end of the day, everyone remained professional. The three ladies left, leaving me with a dark-haired woman- the dress fitter.

She brought the well-anticipated tall mirror.

I had never seen myself so...dolled up.

My skin somehow looks better than ever. The signs of stress, lack of sleep and dehydration seem to have vanished. My hair has been completely straightened and pinned into a low-neck bun with a sweet fringe that only just brushes the tip of my nose. My veil is written to be of the best fabric and the corset fits better than it did at the tailor's. Overall, I look more graceful and patent that usual.

I'm suddenly jump-scared out of my own thoughts by the wedding organiser's brisk voice telling me that the 'groom was waiting in the suite's lounge for the photoshoot'.

My heart thumps rapidly in my chest, and I'm sure that without the dress, it probably would've sprung out. Slightly nervous, I thank her and move to the lounge, my train lifted by my PA for the day.

The beating increases even more as Taehyung becomes clear within my vision. He isn't facing me but is standing with his back to me, head tilted slightly as he engages in conversation with who I assume to be the photographer.

He followed the theme of white, black and rose gold. He's wearing a slim-fitted white suit and a silk black tie with matching Doc Marten ankle boots. I remember when we were teens, he'd go nowhere without his beloved Docs and that's something I've known about him since we were young. He'd probably gotten a few more pairs over the years, clearly not outgrowing the phase. I've just never seen it till now.

Probably sensing my presence outside the door, he turns to face me. I notice the also slimly fitted black shirt. A rose gold napkin and rose are tucked into his breast pocket and matching cuffs adorn his wrists.

His long, black curly hair is in a half-up, half-down man bun, his curls juicer and more hydrated than ever before. On one of his ears he has a series of black studs. I realise that he has always had them hidden with all his hair. A strange eye-shaped tattoo sat right behind it, something I could ask about later.

He raises a brow and looks me over. His expression of concentration is quickly replaced with a false smile as he takes my hand.

"Capture every feature," he jokes, guiding me with his palm softly resting on my back. It feels comforting if I can say that.

But it's all a scene, an act. Just for today, I tell myself. That's how it's meant to be.

I agreed to this and now it's actually happening. It's all real.

We are placed in the usual positions at first. Hand on shoulders, false, toothy smiles while he 'spins me around'. But Mr Photographer only grumbled, muttered and groaned, still unsatisfied.

"I just can't feel nor see the passion between a married woman and her husband," he exclaims dramatically.

"That's no fault of mine, so what else could you possibly want now?" Taehyung snaps suddenly, voicing both our thoughts.

"I think I have an idea," he mutters, ashamed. After a while of 'thinking', quickly moves to his duffel bag once more.

I'm starting to get impatient. I just want this to be overwith. And to make matters worse, I can now feel his fingers tracing upward on my arms as he holds them.

"What are you doing?" I protest. "You're making me really uncomfortable."

"Acting the part. He asked for passion, did he not?" He whispers.

He moves behind me and pulls me into a hug.

I put my hands behind him to try and get him to stop but he holds them behind my back, restricting all my movement.

To think this is the worst of it all, I'm in the middle of hating myself.

"STOP." The photographer suddenly yells.

"That's the passion I need." He bellows, dropping the strange equipment he'd fished out from his duffel bag, and swapping it out for his camera.

We are frozen in the position of Taehyung's hands grasping both of mine behind my back. My eyes close while he continues to shamelessly latch onto me, the camera making shuttering noises in the background certainly not improving things.

Do I enjoy it? No. But what choice do I have?

Finally, after what felt like forever, the embarrassment is finally over.

While I make the mental note to purchase the less suggestive photos, Taehyung dismissively waves me off, knowing the next time we'd meet would be at the alter.

I'm flustered but ready. I can do this.

The usual music starts playing and I link arms with my father, who's wearing a suit identical to Taehyung's but inverted in colour.

We say our vowels half-heartedly and just as he's slipping my ring on my finger, I notice a face I never expected to be present.

Seated in the front row is Yoongi, with a bitter look on his face.