Lovely | BTS ✓

18

Taehyung is frozen in place, hand over his nose to keep the smell from invading his senses further, though it's still making his eyes water.

The smell of death is just barely masked by the flowers, but the smell of the flowers is so strong that it's all just mixing together to create a smell that Taehyung knows he will never forget.

Now that he knows where to focus, he can hear tiny sounds coming from the golden-framed painting in front of him.

Small hums, whispers and shuffles are filling Taehyung's ears, as though these otherwise insignificant noises are now demanding to be heard - threatening to deafen him.

The landing is engulfed in shadows, and Taehyung can't see anything except the barely-illuminated face of Amelia. Maybe the painter added extra highlights to her features so they would stand out, even as the shadows slowly consume this place. Maybe she just wants to be seen.

Wants to be heard.

Thump. Scrape.

His breath is held in his chest, eyes wide as he tries to see as much around him as possible. He's waiting for something - anything - to happen. Whether that be for August to wake up and demand to know why he's making so much noise, or maybe for Amelia herself to fall out of the painting and wrap her delicate fingers around his neck until he turns bluer than her eyes.

Not fully in control of his body anymore, he moves forward, trying to see her. In his delirious mind, he thinks that maybe if he sees her move a fingertip or blink an eye that it would kick his senses back into gear and he can run from this place and never look back.

His eyes watch, and his ears hear the sounds even more clearly now that he's closer. He scans every inch of the painting, willing something to happen.

Something to prove he isn't going insane.

The fingers of his free hand reach out, shaking fingertip caressing her rose-bloomed cheeks and cherry lips, trailing to her honey golden hair. The coolness of the golden frame meets his touch and he feels the smoothness - the perfection - of the accents.

He pauses, feeling something on the edge of the frame that causes him to frown, and when he leans forward to take a better look, he frowns further.

It's a hinge.

Feeling downward, he comes across a second hinge and he realizes that this isn't a painting at all.

It's a door.