BLACK ON BLACK | TK

Chapter One

***

"Where have you been?
Do you know when you're coming back?
'Cause since you've been gone
I've got along but I've been sad."

The park in front of his apartment complex had become his second home during the two years he'd spent there—a place where he could peacefully lay and listen to the soothing sounds of nature or the laughter of the children running in circles around each other. Those were the beauties of life, at least that's what he thought. The little things—those that you didn't quite notice, not until you dared to look closer and see how special they were. 

He had loved the place ever since he'd moved out of his childhood house and every time loneliness pressed against his chest, Taehyung went down the two floors and headed for his favorite bench, carrying his favorite pencil case, a sketchbook and holding tightly the leashes of his two dogs in his free hand.  Every time he reached his bench and let his dogs run freely in the park, he uncovered his wrist and started writing.

It was his routine.

He's been doing it ever since he turned 18, hoping that one day he'll see an answer somewhere on his skin.

He wrote everything, or at least as much as he could on the limited surface of his arm. He wrote messages for his soulmate but he never got a response. Taehyung told them how his days went, how he was feeling, what his dogs were doing, everything he had done in the past days but, no matter how much he wrote, other words apart from those written by him did not appear on his skin.  No matter how much he stared at his own body in the mirror of his apartment, the answers did not appear, and he was left all alone in the coldness of the night, again and again—alone with the destructive thoughts that erased away all the calmness and happiness he managed to muster up during the day.

On one of the days he decided to rest and avoid working because the weather was too nice for the day to be spent inside. Taehyung was holding his sketchbook on his knees as he sat on the bench, enjoying the tranquility of the park he so dearly loved. He didn't have a job—not specifically. Being a freelance artist meant he didn't have fixed working hours or a set schedule but it also meant that he had to work more in order to sustain himself and the two souls he adores. It became exhausting at times—Taehyung spent whole days and nights painting in order to meet all of his deadlines but he wouldn't change it for anything else. It was a job he adored and, at times, he didn't even consider it a job. He loved creating, bringing emotions to life through his work, and he loved the fact that he could take a day off whenever he wanted.

There were days like that one, when the weather was warm, but not extremely so, and the wind brought a refreshing breeze that brought balance between the warmth air and the cold one—on those days, Taehyung liked to sit outside, in the park. 

He enjoyed sitting on the bench with his sketchbook dropped in his lap, his eyes curiously analyzing the world around him in search for inspiration—he always searched for a muse but not many things appealed to him and those that did were the ones he did not see often.

He had noticed, during those two years, that despite his own style and his preferences, the things that inspired him seemed to be the complete opposite of his lifestyle. He wore large slacks and thin shirts, sometimes dropped a tie around his waist to bring more color to his neutral outfit and his shoes were always too elegant for a simple walk in the park.

He couldn't wear shoes that had laces and yet, he always found himself staring at the people who wore chunky, dark, boots, he always found himself checking those out in stores even if he never bought any. Taehyung enjoyed drawing them, those combat boots, and he loved drawing leather jackets too, even if he did not own any—his jackets were mostly blazers that matched his trousers. His sunglasses were tinted, colorful, but he always drew dark ones along with silver earrings he's never even seen—his jewelry was golden.