𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐝 ● 𝐉𝐉𝐊

• 34 • amour sans fin

Embarrassment was howling at you from your stomach as you watched the curator of Louvre greet Jeon Jungkook with utmost respect possible. He even bowed in the traditional Korean style to honour him. 

You looked down. How had you not paid attention to this? All these years when you'd tried to find him, you had actually been running away from him. With the insecurity and fear of finding out the answers you really wanted, finding out the truth. You'd loved him endlessly, and if getting answers meant finding out he didn't love you anymore and had done everything then just to get physical or for passing time, it would break you apart. These prospects scared you and you never genuinely tried to find him.

But, today, when he had found you first, and brought you all the way to Paris and was proudly parading your art to the city, your soul knocked at your heart. You'd even disrespected him by sending him out of your room, made him feel like a used body. You were heartless, to your heart. 

Seojun stared at the man on the stage in awe, whilst you in shame. The opening ceremony had progressed and the guest of honour was called to the stage. The great philanthropist, the art patron, the director of Women d'Art and the exceptional artist - Jeon Jungkook. The man you loved. Your shoulders swelled seeing him on the raised platform, in front of the most influential people in the world of art. Despite of him being an influential person too. He was hopelessly handsome, stole your sanity within fleeting seconds of making a brief eye contact with you on stage. 

How foolish of you to assume he was just a low-lying artist when he had so much to give to the world. He deserved this and more, you felt your eyes water as the audience roared with claps. Some of his most famous art was shown on the screen behind. A girl dancing in red. Dramatic, emotional, striking. You gulped the guilt and shame as tears gathered in your eyes. 

He had been on his knees for you. Begging you to fly into his comforting arms and you'd tried to get him off your back by saying you needed to meet with an important head. So fucking embarrassing. You were scared, to give in and to face the consequences of your answer. It would be so easy, so damn easy to give in. You would happily die if you say yes. What is the guarantee that he won't leave you again?

You had told him you needed time to think. But, you and him very well knew that's what you didn't have. You knew you couldn't afford to lose more time than you already had. Time had already walked away and both of you had still stayed back, now was the time to join hands and run ahead. To catch up with said time. 

The claps hushed as the curator handed the mic to Jungkook. Your stomach buzzed with nerves.

"Salutations, mes amis," he greeted with a thin smile, you knew that wasn't his full one. He was pained, you'd caused him pain when it was such an important night for him. Unknowingly, your hands had clasped together, awaiting his words. Burrows of pain forming in your heart seeing him broken. 

All your fault. 

"Tonight- Désolé, today is the best day of my life." His voice echoed on the speaker of this magnificent hall of the Louvre. His honeyed husk brought the level of your pulses up. "This...festival of art, this celebration brought back to me, my love." Whispers arose and the young ladies in the crowd went into a detail gossip session. "They say time heals. But, no one tells you it makes you see love in different colours. You see seasons as the person you love, you see the simple world as a celebration of love. I've felt time break me, make me and ground me."

You move forward towards the stage, not giving a damn about the faint French curses which came your way when you blocked the audience's view. You could care less. He was talking about you to this hall of famous people. The speech was just an excuse, he was talking to you through the speech.