gods and monsters wreaked havoc across hell's plains, but you kept me safe in your embrace high above the clouds.

Jin's laughter faded as the sound of the front door opening and closing was heard from the kitchen, Hoseok raising a brow and Jimin not paying attention as he sat at the dining table on his phone. Jeongguk walked through to where his hyungs were, sitting opposite the second youngest at the table and looked around with confused eyes.

"Why do you look so shocked to see me?" Jin had a blank face, his blond hair falling into coffee eyes but his hands not moving to brush it away. Hoseok's brows were furrowed and his mouth gawping, giving off a mild fish impression.

Jimin didn't even know the maknae had walked into the room yet.

"WHERE IN THE ACTUAL FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?" Jin exploded, hand flinging a kitchen towel across the room and eyes flying wide open, the sudden act making Jeongguk jump in his seat. Jimin copied the younger's actions, for the towel had landed on his mop of orange hair.

"Uhm, work?"

Hoseok crossed his arms over his chest. "You were with Taehyung, weren't you?" He raised a brow, blond hair no longer blond but his natural dark strands. Jeongguk gave a haste nod, fiddling with his own skinny fingers as his palms began to become clammy.

"Imma Snapchat this, hold up." Jimin mumbled but everyone, except the youngest, ignored him.

"You could've called, texted, sent an email, even a fucking pigeon! But no, you decide to make me worry my ass off because of my concern for your safety!" Jin picks up another tea towel, grasping the red material tight to restrain himself from shaking Jeongguk senseless.

"B-But why di-didn't y-you come look-looking for me-?" He stumbled over his words, fear of the elder practically dripping from every struggling syllable.

"Because Yoongi kindly informed me that you were fine, saying he saw you two snuggling like two lovers on the floor." His older brother hoisted himself up onto the kitchen island, swinging his legs slightly as disappointment faintly laced his words.

Jin sighed, sitting in the IKEA chair next to the younger and tried to ignore Jimin. "I was just worried Jeongguk. It's not like you to just take off like that without saying anything."

Jeongguk took the towel from the eldest's hands and rubbed the sweat from his brow, wiping his hands afterwards and sighed too. "I'm sorry hyung. I'll tell you next time."

Jimin made kiss noises, puckering his lips and giggling, running his hand through his hair afterwards. "Next time huh? Gonna get frisky?"

Hoseok threw an orange at the boy, followed by a chuckle from him and a groan from the victim. "Shut up goldfish."

✧✦✧

Sunset had rolled around yet again, and Taehyung was sat in front of the portrait of his mother. His gaze drifted from the chocolate waves of hair, to the soft dip of her cupid's bow, to the younger version of himself on her lap. He felt like crying, he wanted to cry, he felt a need to cry. But he couldn't.

Yoongi walked into the room holding bottles of black paint and rollers. He set them down on the couch and warily watched the other artist, fluffing his now slight-green toned hair and sat next to his friend, resting his elbow on his propped up knee.

"She used to show me so many ways of living, Yoongi. Showed me that genders don't matter in love, that art was a magical way of expressing loud emotions, that I could do whatever I wanted if I put my mind to it." Taehyung spoke quietly, not wanting to break the calming atmosphere too much with his deep voice, that was already thick with emotion and raw with pain.

"You know she didn't mean to hurt you. She's mentally sick, Tae, she didn't know what she was doing." Yoongi looked over at him, to see the younger still staring up at the portrait with a faint sad expression.

"Not when she was drinking her beloved liquor or smoking her cigarettes. Not when she went out with friends until the sun rose. Not when she left me to fend for myself. Not when she told me to stop my relationship with a boy because it revolted her."

The elder artist nodded and looked back at the painting. Sea foam irises, a soft blue so light it could've been mistaken for white, stared right back at him. Taehyung really captured the emotion in those especially, the old happiness sparkling the orbs unlike the hatred that reflected in them now. How could such a friendly woman do such awful things? To her own son?

"She became this totally different person all because of...because of that bastard I call my father." Taehyung spat.

Your pathetic dad has gone off with another man, child. I guess you're going to become a faggot too huh?

He lifted his hand to softly touch his cheek, reminiscing back to that harsh slap she had first ever laid upon him. He remembered the red hand print, the amount of tears he shed, the pure fear resonating in his young eyes. She had held him afterwards, muttering meaningless apologies over and over while wiping away ongoing streams.

"Maybe that's what love does to you. Makes you feel so special and happy when it's shown, but when it stops and your lover finds another, you feel like demons are invading your entire being. Hatred settles in and you just radiate negativity and pain." Taehyung hums in agreement, sniffling as he wiped at his waterline as Yoongi rubbed his back with a warm palm.

"Now I'm not making excuses for her," Yoongi continued, "No one could give that woman any excuse or reason for what terrible things she did to you. But when you hear that the love of your life and father of your child has run away with another person, a man as well... She must've broken down in so many ways."

He stood up and walked to the couch, Taehyung's softened eyes following the elder's smooth movements and soft thuds of his footsteps. Yoongi held up the black paint and rollers, smiling with closed lips at the younger, holding one of each object out to him.

"This portrait, as beautifully painted it is, needs to go if you're going to move past that part of your life. I'm not saying get over it, I'm saying that you should stop letting it hurt you." Taehyung nodded, getting a paint tray to put the paint in.

Once the black was applied to the rollers, wide smiles on artist's faces and their hands gripping the equipment tightly, Taehyung made the first stroke of paint. Or roll, however you'd put it.

"See Tae? Life can get better; you just need to let it." The painting may have been void of any colour, but Taehyung couldn't have felt any happier about it.

✧✦✧