not what you think

xxxv: n

"I assume you understand the rules I've explained?", Namjoon asks Joonki who stands at his front with a stoicness Namjoon fails to apprehend.

"I do," Joonki voices, abridged and translucent.

"Right now, Taehyung isn't working on any new paintings, so you won't have to carry anything or keep tabs on new works other than the ones hanging by the wall," Namjoon gestures at the picturesque view, amber studio luminescence cascading upon the levitating arts.

"It means I just do maintenance for the time being, and look out for them."

"Yes. Lunch break is at twelve pm so you can skim around and check upon those," Namjoon nods, "I'll go and take my classes. Inform me or Taehyung if something happens."

Joonki nods whilst Namjoon treads for the exit, the double doors gliding open upon sensor grasping his footings, enclosing upon his figure crossfading into a moderately morphed transport, wheels gyrating him away from the infrastructure.

He heaves a sigh as he swipes on his formal ensemble to cascade make-believe dust to assuage his haphazard nerves upon the newness of the interior and people.

Treading for the only painting which enticed him enough to reminisce of his past, he stands at its nose, toiling to comprehend any crack or insignia of mishappenings.

"I guess it's fairly new so nothing happened," Joonki murmurs like a monologue before trudging to the next one, before gliding to the next, until he stands in front of the painting of the dancer, reminiscent of the creator's lost love, unbeknownst to Joonki.

Joonki views the accents of the painting, the shadow cascading upon the female where sunbeams failed to stow itself, the tresses gliding in the air as the twirl-like stature entails a pirouette being forged. The tan skin gleaming against the amber glow, accentuated jaw, slightly parted lips, the ensemble cascading with poise till her knees.

Joonki isn't the one who is enticed by women, but he concurs her beauteousness, and apprehends why Taehyung would sketch her with all the tenderness and exactitude.

"It's someone from his past, I think."

Joonki perceives the voice and twirls to see the janitor standing, a mammoth brush a tad bit heftier than him, viewing the painting from his rear.

"It seems so," Joonki murmurs, a bantam smile on his lips before viewing back from the drawing.

"I assume it's someone he loved dearly," The janitor voices, softened gaze towards the boy.

Joonki's stupefaction reaches skywards in an unprecedented sort of way.

His disbelief over the janitor's elucidation causes him to be voiceless.

Kim Taehyung being capable of love is an enlightenment his psyche would never conjure.

Kim Taehyung with no remorse, no affliction, no hardship, as he viewed him till now.

"Kim-nim capable of love? I wonder," Joonki voices, "I didn't know he's capable of having actual feelings."

"Son, you're only viewing the surface. His happy-go-lucky personality changed when he came back from Seattle," The oldened man voices, a particular melancholy in his tonality, "He has grown timid and deadened."

"He's afflicted and his affliction has caused him to be like that. He views this painting now and then, with so much longing. He doesn't know but I see it."

Joonki views the man, as he voices his views.

"After Taekyung's whereabouts being unknown, he was devastated enough. It has grown manifold somehow in the past year. He's lost without his sister and probably this woman."