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Offended, but trying to hide it, I move my eyes back to the paintings. Trying to hush the fire burning within me, I stare at the famous Starry Night, watching as the colors dance in front of me - from dark blues to bright yellows, it all leading me into a whole different world.

A world that lasted only for a second before Taehyung opened his posh mouth again.

''Would you be able to tell if it's authentic?'' He asks as if demanding a challenge, though the corner of his mouth tugs up in a smirk and I know it's jokes all over again.

''Are you talking about the painting or your persona? Because if it's you, I'm one hundred percent sure that it's fake.''

I try again, but he bursts into a small laugh, proving that lighting me on fire was all he wanted.

''You're right'', he says, eyes wrinkling up as he smiles, ''Though not about me, but about the painting. All you see in here is a perfect replica of the real deal. However, there is one single thing I own that's as real as me standing right here, right now, in front of you.''

Before my tongue could form a question, he was already standing in front of a drawing. ,It was nothing more but a simple sketch of a naked woman sitting with both head and arms resting on her knees.

The iconic name Vincent was scribbled down on the bottom left and a small, yet strong word is written on the bottom right - Sorrow.

''It's a sketch,'' Taehyung says, his voice changing tones, now sounding deeper, more serious. ''You might think it's not much, but Van Gogh considered it one of the best figures he'd ever drawn.''

He takes a sip of his drink, moistening the throat before the words could come back up again. ''It looks simple, yeah? A drawing done by nothing more than a pencil, pen and ink on a piece of paper. Though the story that holds on to it is so much deeper than what meets the human eye.''

''What's the story behind it?'' Intrigued by the way he speaks, I wanted to know even more.

''The model you see on the sketch, her name was Sien Hoornik. A woman Van Gogh encountered wandering the streets of The Hague with her five-year-old daughter in the year 1882. But Sien wasn't just an ordinary woman.''

He stops, leaving his drink on the chair seated in the middle of the room before he placed both of his hands behind his back. ''She was a pregnant alcoholic and a prostitute that soon ended in the hands of poverty. Van Gogh then, out of pity, took care of her and offered her refuge, providing her shelter and in return, she modeled for him.''

Something within me changes, like a light switch that somebody's hands touched and now I see Taehyung under a completely different light.

Before, he was a spoiled rich kid who inherited money from his father and spent it on paintings just out of boredom.

Now, he's a man, enjoying not just the art, or the technique, but the whole story behind it, which made me think that there's more to Taehyung than what he allows others to see.

''They lived together for a year or so'', he continues, ''and many say that it was the happiest time of his life. He depicts Sien as a woman scarred by life, and saw parallels to his own drawings of age-old trees ravaged by nature.''

A pause.

''I wanted to express something of life's struggle, both in that white slender female figure and in those gnarled black roots with their knots.''

And then he looks back at me, smiling. ''That's what he said, but the happiness didn't last fot too long. It was the prostitution and the alcohol that made them go separate ways.''

Then I waited.

Waited for him to tell me the ending, wanting it to be a happy one, though my stomach soon twists in knots and I know what awaits me when his rose-tinted lips set apart.

''Sien committed suicide in 1902'', he says, dark brown eyes looking away from me. ''by throwing herself into the Scheldt river.''

The air suddenly grows silent and the only thing my ears can hear is my own heart pumping blood through the veins inside of me.

Even though I felt sadness, I also felt anger. Mostly towards love in general, and how it had the power of healing while also having the ability to destroy everything it comes in touch with.

''It seems that Van Gogh held onto the painting because he too, was later on imprisoned by sorrow.'' A long sigh escapes his lips as I was left completely speechless, both of my hands holding onto the glass of champagne before he turned around to face me. ''Wow, I've just ruined our celebration night, didn't I? My apologies chéri.''

He smiles once again, a sudden warmth wrapping me whole.

''Would you care for another, maybe more cheerful story than the last one?''

''I'd rather not. This one took quite a toll on me.'' Sharing a small laugh, I didn't lie. ''And please, don't call me like that. It feels weird.''

''Alright then.'' He chuckles quietly. ''What would you like me to call you then?''

I place my glass on the chair next to his before I look back at him. ''Erika would be fine.''

''Like the flower? Or the song?'' His eyes glisten with joy.

''What song?''

''Aish, don't tell me you don't know about it? It's an old classic.'' Almost ecstatically, he grabs my wrist and pulls me out of the gallery room into another one covered in thousands and thousands of shelves that have books sleeping on them.

I don't get the chance to admire the size of this room, nor do I even get a small glimpse of the piano standing in the corner because Taehyung pulls me forward and I'm now facing an old, almost dusty gramophone.

Its golden sound horn twirls up in the air, the turntable under it already has a vinyl record placed but Taehyung was swift to remove it and is now in the search for a new one.

''When the flowers of Erika fall.''

My eyebrows are furrowed. ''What?''

''エリカの花散るとき[Erika no Hana Chiru Toki], the song.'' He repeats. ''It's the song's name.''

His slender fingers rummage through a box right next to the gramophone, his eyes merely reading the names of random artists before he lets out a loud aha! with a grin appearing on his face.

''I've never heard of it.'' I admit.

''That's because your ears have been vandalized by today's trash music.''

''Are you saying that k-pop is trash? Because let me tell you something grandpa-''

A roll of his eyes as a reaction given to my sentence. ''Just trust me, you'll like this.''

Careful enough, he lays down the vinyl and places the needle just on top of it. The next thing I know is the warm, almost distorted but soothing sound that echoes through the library room.

Like dust and scratches, the needle creates crackle and picks up the sound of its own motion, adding thickness to the sound wave, making me almost deaf to the actual song playing.

It's an old song, that's for sure, a whole orchestra wearing out a jazz melody followed by a woman singing in japanese.

''In 1963, Sachiko Nishida released this very song.'' He explains in between the music notes. ''My father gifted this to me when he came back from his trip in Japan.''

And he was right.

As much as I hate to admit it, he was right - I actually liked the song.

''So your father was a rich man?'' I say, it being more of a statement than a question but Taehyung was quick to answer.

''Still is,'' Taehyung admits, hands resting on his back and he follows me as my hands keep scrutinizing through the bookshelves. ''He's the reason behind all of this.'' A throw of hands in the air - a motion to show either small gratitude or dark pride.

''Where is your dad?''

''On a business trip to South Africa.''

I keep walking, making sure the distance between us never grows smaller. ''All of this then, is your dad's legacy?''

''Not all of it.'' Tilting his head, he follows my lead, like a puppy does to its owner. ''You could say half of it was because of my hard work and commitment.''

He keeps getting closer and I quicken my pace. ''Just by reselling paintings? Or is there anything else you do?''

''There's more to it.'' He doesn't deny it. ''I don't do just small auctions and gallery shows, precious. There's business from all around the globe, all kinds of companies owned by my father and now, moi.''

I feel like asking more and more questions, the mystery behind Kim Taehyung slowly revealing itself.

''What kind of business?'' I ask before I stand still, realizing that there's no way to walk further - I've been cornered and he's now in front of me, with his hands still behind his back. Soon enough, he makes a step closer, pushing out the remaining air that kept us apart.

''Now, why would, a little girl like you, want to know that?''

As much as my mind was telling me that he was only joking around, for some reason, he looks more intimidating now and my voice gets stuck in the throat. I struggle to come up with a comprehensive explanation once his eyes are etched on me. ''Out of curiosity?''

The response I gave seems to make this all even more entertaining as he takes a couple steps further. Now only inches away, his breath brushes the tip of my nose as his hand reaches forward, resting on the wall next to the skin on my face.

''You know what they say...'' And the music goes silent. ''Curiosity killed the cat.''

My heart drops beneath my own feet and I hold my breath. Once my eyes are closed, I purse my lips in a firm line and wait for the unexpected - he was either going to kill me, right here, at this spot. Or, according to the close proximity of his lips to mine, he was going to kiss me.

''What are you doing?''

I can hear him, but I don't dare to open my eyes, though somehow it's like I can see the cheeky grin on his face and that's when I knew he was toying around with me yet again.

''Hmm?'' I open my eyes, only to be met with Taehyung's sly smile as his eyes widen even more.

''Did you really think I was about to kiss you?''

''No!'' Slapping his arm, I free myself from his trap.

''Oh chéri. I don't do kisses.'' A deep laugh rumbles across the room. ''Not on the first date.''

A/N

more and more secrets are being revealed and i hope you all like the taehyung i've shown you so far, though there's more to him of course :') i hope you enjoyed it. please take care of yourselves and take the most out of your summer vacation. love you. ♡

song for the chapter; sachiko nishida, when the flowers of erika fall. painting inspiration; sorrow by vincent van gogh.