Like Chasing After the Sun • taekook

Three

The painting is so large that when I stand in front of it, my vision is filled with its windswept nautical landscape.

The nude female figure stands in a huge scallop shell, long golden curls escaping from the silver ribbon to cascade down her torso. There's something unnatural about the way she stands, as if the curves of her figure blend and drift weightlessly into the billowing wind.

It's as if I'm standing under the pale blue sky with her, amidst the sea foam and scattered roses, staring into her calm and omnipotent gaze, mesmerized.

"Birth of Venus, always a favorite at Uffizi."
Taehyung chimes up next to me, boots clicking on the marble floor. My lips curl up at the sound of his voice. I can't quite remember how we got to this moment in time, but I know he's next to me, and that alone is comforting enough.

He continues, "I do love Boticelli, how he painted the same model over and over, in almost every paint he had ever done, tracing her features on canvas long after she had passed away."

"Right, Simonetta Vespucci. And that he requested to be buried next to her, at the church down the street, even though she was married to another." I concur, but add after a pause, "Is that romantic or creepy though? To be so obsessed about someone else's wife for the rest of his life?"

Taehyung hums, and makes a face at me, "Probably a bit of both. But he succeeded in immortalizing his love for her. Isn't that what we all want, to be remembered for eternity?"

"I don't know. I'm happy with living as passionately as I can, I could care less if people remember me after I die."

Taehyung turns his head away at the words, his features falling into the shadow, "And yet you keep coming back here, to all your favorite places, dragging me with you every time."

"You're doing your quiet mumbling thing again." I walk towards him, until our arms almost touch, and I can feel the warmth radiating off his skin, "It's nice having you here though, sure hope you're not bored out of your mind."

He sighs, a little dramatic for effect, "always a little weird when you stop bickering and act super sweet, but why am I a sucker for it every time..."

We walk around, shoulder to shoulder, our footsteps echoing in the empty museum. Taehyung's hair is ash blonde today, trestled so messily, making me want to tuck the curls behind his ears, "Immortality is easier to believe in a city like Florence anyways. I mean, these very tiles were constructed by the Medici family; and within a 5km radius, are all the architectural and art wonders of the whole renaissance. There's a reason why religion, and even fantasies like vampires seem more possible in this town. Immortality is not a wish here, but an almost certainty."

I stare at Carravagio's Medusa portrait behind him, taking in the shocked expression on the bloody severed head, before retorting, "I don't know..."

Taehyung arches a brow at me, "Ohh?"

The eyes of Medusa bore onto me, and the snaked hair slithers and hisses, as I add, "All these... these achievements are beautiful, but it almost feels like the opposite to me. We try so hard to create perfection, to capture beauty and awe and love and passion distilled into these fragments of perfection. But why? Isn't it the very fear of death that pushes us to immortalize every moment? Botticelli kept painting Simonetta because she died months after they met, his love was the opposite of immortal, it was unrequited and never saw the light of the day."

Taehyung clicks his tongue and shots a half-hearted finger gun at me, "And bam, just like that, you're back to your true dark emo self."

I feel bad for dampening the mood, but the thoughts stick on my mind. The snakes slither and reach out of the painting, and the white walls start to ripple like liquid surfaces, before slowly melting away in bigger and bigger gaps. All around us, the painted landscapes are growing, dripping into the gaps, taking over, bringing with them snow flakes and restless wind. My thoughts are muddled, something buried deep within bubbles up, and I stand frozen and unsure of everything.

Hands hold onto my arm, and pull me out of my thoughts. Taehyung's voice is gentle as always, like a beacon of warm light amidst the chaos, "And yet, he tried."

I stare at him, dumbfounded, as he continues, gaze thoughtful, "Botticelli lived for decades after Simonetta died, and created many masterpieces with her as the muse. He tried to preserve love despite the inevitability of death, in spite of it. Heck, we all try. I don't think that's a bad thing, I think that's quite nice actually."

His golden curls gleam, hands rub on my arms ever so gently, drawing small comforting circles, "my dear little emo bunny, not everything in life is so extreme, all eternity or death. There are infinite small moments in between, and for most of us, they are more than enough."

All around us, the snow flakes fade little by little, and all the painted colors swirl and blend, dripping into a kaleidoscopic landscape of its own. I breathe out a long exhale, and feel my spirit lightening up before speaking again, "I think maybe I'm just getting hangry. Isn't there that really good pizza place down the street, in the back alley? The one with extra basil on the margherita?"

His eyes squint and crinkle more, and he punches my arm half playfully and half in frustrated relief, "Finally, Jung Jungkook, an excellent suggestion."