Beyond The Line: Taekook
Prologue
" 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘵, 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳....
𝘏𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘳, 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘢, 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘺𝘭𝘦, 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦....
𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦.
𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾, 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄?
𝖶𝗁𝗈 𝗂𝗌 𝖳𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾? 𝖶𝗁𝗈 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗍𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽'𝗌 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖿𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗆?
'𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙏𝙖𝙚𝙝𝙮𝙪𝙣𝙜, 𝙗𝙚𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚?"
" 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇𝗌... "
" 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘦, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦! 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰! 𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦... "
" 𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 "
" 𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 "
" 𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 "
" 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 "
Kim Taehyung, was an F-1 Racer, probably the most famous one. He was known to never lose a race, and always excell like the champ he was. The first man to drift the car for the longest time was an unbeatable record, and it was Taehyung's to own.
But the world didn't know the misery and darkness inside the star's life. The media, the press only knew him for what he was after his car sped past the racing line. But after that?
No one knows what Kim Taehyung is beyond the line.
[The Beginning]
The camera focused on the sleek asphalt of the Circuit de Monaco, where the sun cast a warm glow over the iconic racetrack.
Fans filled the grandstands, proudly waving flags and wearing the colors of their favorite teams. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation, a low hum of excitement as the final race of the season was about to begin.
Commentrators (Lead)
Welcome to the Monaco Grand Prix! The jewel of the Formula 1 Calendar, where strategy meets skill!
Commentrators (Lead)
That's right! The narrow streets of Monte Carlo demand precision driving and clever tactics. Who will reign supreme today?
The camera zoomed in on the racers, capturing their focused expressions as they adjusted their helmets and checked their gear. A few exchanged nods, acknowledging the weight of the moment.
Commentrators (Lead)
We've got a thrilling grid with the Red Bull Rampager starting on pole, followed closely by the Mercedes Silver Streak and our very own architect in the Ferrari Prancing Predator!
The camera captured the vibrant scene in the stands, where fans eagerly chatted among themselves, eyes sparkling with hope. A child held up a sign adorned with a simple message: “Go, Silver Streak!” Laughter and cheers erupted from a group of supporters dressed in team gear, their voices rising above the crowd.
Co- commentrator
Seems like the home team has some loyal supporters!
Commentrators (Lead)
The Architect is known for his cunning strategy, but will he be able to outmaneuver the game again?
Commentrators (Lead)
Well the Silver Streak's speed and consistency, poses a big challenge, as well. Let's hold our breaths together!
The camera panned to the pit lane, where a young woman stepped into view. Dressed in a sleek, fitted outfit bearing the logo of the event, she exuded a quiet confidence.
With a hand resting lightly on her hip, she surveyed the crowd, a warm smile playing on her lips as she acknowledged the surrounding fans.
For a moment, she paused, soaking in the energy of the spectators. As the countdown approached its final seconds, she lifted her arm, holding the starting flag high above her head, the fabric fluttering gently in the breeze.
With a gentle yet purposeful motion, she dropped the flag, signaling the start of the race.
The roar of engines bounces off the walls of the Saint Devote, echoing through the packed grandstands, where thousands of fans hold their breath, eyes glued to the track.
Down the grid, drivers were locked in their own battles, each moment filled with tension. A competitor in a sleek black car edged forward, attempting to squeeze between two others. The atmosphere was thick with adrenaline as the racers danced around each other, their instincts guiding every move, as they screech the second turn in Beau Rivage.
The atmosphere was electric; fans jumped to their feet, waving flags and chanting for their favorites. The stands vibrated with excitement as the scent of burning rubber hung in the air, creating a palpable sense of anticipation.
For any racer, it's a race for the trophy, for the fame, for the money and for all the other things that would come with it. But for him...
It was just the 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘓𝘪𝘯𝘦.
A helmet, snug; the seatbelt tight. He is the one with the horse logo on his car and the leather wheel in his hands. Inside the cockpit, gloved hands tighten around the wheel, knuckles whitening as the car accelerates toward the infamous Casino Square.
???
Rob, Casino Square's coming up. Brake marker....50 meters...30...10.... Brake!! (pulls the brakes, feeling the deceleration)
???
Turn in smooth and late, clip the apex...power out!
'𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵. 𝘚𝘪𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬'𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 1.3 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺.'
A quick flick of almond-shaped eyes to the rearview mirror reveals the chasing pack, their desperation palpable, but it’s not enough to shake the man's focus.
The grip on the steering wheel tightens, as he sees the upcoming turn approaching right in Mirabeau. '𝘐𝘵𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘹', a voice came in his ear and he did exactly that. It was a smooth maneuver but not smooth enough to shake off the Mercedes at his tail.
The camera cuts to the tunnel, where shadows engulf the car, the whine of the engine growing ominous as the cars shifts gears with surgical precision.
The lights at the tunnel’s end approach rapidly. The RPM's climbing, with the gray-green haze of the tunnel illuminated by the headlights....
'𝘚𝘪𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬'𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯' 𝘪𝘯, 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘰?'
???
I'm going to pull the brakes a li'll late and hit the Tabac. Give me an over steer set-up.
The Ferrari pulled the brakes late and continued with taking the Tabac aggressively. It powered through Tabac, carrying extra speed and pulling up, keeping the time in head.
???
Clip the first apex, rotate, clip the second apex...power out!
'𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 2.5 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘴. 𝘍𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘕𝘰𝘶𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦 𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘦.'
The scene shifts to the onboard camera, where every movement is amplified—the rhythmic breathing, the smooth yet aggressive steering, the subtle tilt of the head as the Ferrari Prancing Predator calculates the perfect braking point.
The car dives into the tight Loews hairpin, tires squealing, inches from the wall, yet it’s as if he has already seen this in a dream, every turn, every throttle push executed flawlessly.
Crowds in the stands lean forward as the car rockets through Portier, the engines' scream ricocheting off the yachts in the harbor.
Commentrators (Lead)
This is sheer brilliance—watch how the Architect controls the pace, not a single mistake, every lap like a metronome.
It's always the Final Lap, the game changer. With cars turning up against each other, overtaking their speeds and their force attacking and slamming with their furious energies: it was more of a dragon dance!
He looked ahead. At moments like this, there's only one thing he was told:
'It doesn't matter the car, matters who's behind the wheel.'
He couldn't let it go. For all the racers on track, even if the entire race meant nothing for them, when they draw this close, none can't help but hold their breaths, with adrenaline surging through their body like nitro with only one thing in mind: to reach the line first.
And he was going to let it go. He couldn't; not at this moment. His eyes glanced, for once in a moment, from the racetrack to the audience in the stadium and when all noises became silent and the ringing begun in his ears, he heard only the voice of that little girl shouting at him...
He settled his gaze back on the track, watching them final attempt of Silver Streak. Composing himself from the impulsive emotions, he slowed down to let the moment of his dance: to run alongside his rival, before he pushed the counter initiative and overtook the lead.
He took the trade positions, exchanged blows and pushed the limits as the Ferrari, finally, runs past the finish line, followed by the other cars screeching behind.
Co- commentrator
AND IT'S A WIN! AN ABSOLUTE, CLEAR-CUT WIN! INCREDIBLE PLAY BY THE SECOND-TIME CHAMPION!! (jumps out of his seat, throwing his hands up)
Commentrators (Lead)
CONGRATULATIONS, ARCHITECT! CONGRATULATIONS FOR WINNING THE MONACO GRAND PRIX FOR THE SECOND TIME! (stands up from his seat, with full excitement)
𝗥𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗥𝗲𝘀𝘂𝗹𝘁𝘀:
1. Architect (Ferrari Prancing Predator)
2. Silver Streak (Mercedes)
3. Red Bull Rampager (Red Bull)
𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀:
1. ARCHITECT: 30 POINTS
2. SILVER STREAK: 20 POINTS
3. RED BULL RAMPAGER: 15 POINTS
'𝘐𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘱. 𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘍1 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘦𝘢 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.'
The cars slowed down against the asphalt, as the winner, stepped out of his car, blowing off steam by now, and watched the stadium standing from their seats, clapping, cheering and waving their flags and banners in their hands.
The honey-toned, slick jaw glistening from the sweat under the afternoon rays of the Monaco sun, shining upon him and the exhaustion taking over him, as he panted while keeping hands over his hips, hoping for the last break: he looked around.
His almond eyes watched the stadium, the entire stadium with those fatigued yet tireless eyes, scanning the faces of each of the people in the stadium, and his breath slowing down with every face that he skipped.
Commentrators (Lead)
𝘊𝘖𝘕𝘎𝘙𝘈𝘛𝘜𝘓𝘈𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕, 𝘒𝘐𝘔 𝘛𝘈𝘌𝘏𝘠𝘜𝘕𝘎 𝘍𝘖𝘙 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘚𝘗𝘌𝘊𝘛𝘈𝘊𝘜𝘓𝘈𝘙 𝘞𝘐𝘕!
Until he reached the end, and a humorless scoff left his lips as he felt his team approach him; the race dawning closer to the end.
The roar of the crowd outside is deafening, but inside the dressing room, it’s eerily quiet. V, still wearing his racing suit, sits on a bench, staring at the floor. His red cap is pulled low, almost obscuring his eyes, as he looks down, staring at the white-tiled floor blankly. The door opens, and his coach enters, a broad smile on his face.
He could hear the noise—cheers, applause, the muffled voices of people chanting his name—but it all felt distant, like a wave crashing far from shore. His ears throbbed, each sound more painful than the last, a dull ache that grew with every second. His mind, weary and worn, screamed for silence, for a moment of peace, but the world around him refused to quiet down. It was suffocating, as if the air itself had become too thick to breathe.
Robert Manucci (Coach)
Fcking crushed it! Fcking crushed it, V! (patted his back)
Robert Manucci (Coach)
Second-time world champion! On top of the world! You scored big time, Taehyung!! Fcking ballistic!
Robert Manucci (Coach)
That was so fcking crazy! The press is screaming in my ears to get you before th- (noticed)
Robert Manucci (Coach)
Taehyung?
He doesn't look up, his hands clamped against each other and his expression blank. As always. The cheers continued, growing ever more frenzied, but V felt only the weight of his solitude.
The Coach probably heard that right. He has been through that scene, but every time he does, he wishes things would change. He wasn't the type of person that would make his racers work to death, without giving a shït about their health but right now, he believed nothing was working for him.
Robert Manucci (Coach)
(stepped closer to the bench and crouched before him) Hey...
Robert Manucci (Coach)
You won, Taehyung. The world is dying to see your face...(spoke gently)
Robert Manucci (Coach)
(getting no response, he sighed and rubbed the other's arm, soothingly) Alright, don't say anything. I'll handle them.
Robert Manucci (Coach)
You should go and get some rest. You played well. (got up and left the room)
He leaves the room, and for a moment, V is alone again. Then, the door creaks open once more, and his personal assistant enters, holding a clipboard. She had a small smile on her face, when she looked at V, knowing very well what was going on in his mind.
He's overthinking, going back to the moment, feeling every inch of the race as each second of the racetrack, every sound of the tires screeching against the asphalt replayed in his ears: she knew him well. Without a word, she placed the clipboard aside and sat beside the racer, the young champion.
She looked at him for a while, with the small smile still playing on her lips. How could anyone else understand this complicated hell of a man?
When she spoke so softly, that it almost came out as a whisper, but she got no response, she did, what she would always want to do. Her hands slowly moved towards the clamped hands of the racer, as he held them softly and gently in her owns, curling her fingers around them.
Unsurprisingly, within a second, she felt Taehyung retrace his hands back from her grip, and her smile faded away for a second before she broke into another one, again.
Jisoo
Still the same, aren't you? (asked, with a whisper)
Jisoo
(looked at him for a while as she gulped shortly) This was our last race together, Taehyung....
Kim Taehyung
(stays blank and emotionless)
Jisoo
(lets out a shaky breath) You know, I'm not..I am not complaining.
Jisoo
I had the best time with you, helping you and serving you. You...you were such a good boss (chuckled shortly)
Jisoo
You never looked down on me, even in my mistakes and faults; and you, may have not been a comforting partner, but you were always there...(tried to hold her tears back)
Jisoo
Maybe...(sighed)..maybe that was why, I fell in love with you.
Jisoo
But you...(chuckled)..you stayed the same, old bastrd!
Jisoo
I'm not sad! I'm not sad at all! (says, with tears streaming down her cheeks)
Jisoo
Maybe, I'm just...afraid. Afraid of leaving you behind. All alone.
Jisoo
I just wish...we had more time. So that I could at least, see your smile, one day.
Kim Taehyung
(rubbed his palms against each other, feeling the sweat gather in them)
Jisoo
(wiped her cheeks, and took a deep breath as she looked at him with a smile; a big one) But don't worry.
Jisoo
The new guy, would be good for you. I have met him, he's nice and...really kind.
Jisoo
Maybe he'd bring the best out of you. Maybe, he would...make you smile like I never could.
Jisoo
And..(chuckled with tears gathering around her eyes)...and maybe, he'll not fall in love with you.
Jisoo
Maybe, he'd be perfect for you, Taehyung. And he'd help you more than I could have.
Jisoo
So, please...be kind to him. Be easy on him. People...people deserve to be treated kindly, Tae.
Jisoo
(patted his back) And thank you for everything. Thank you, V.
There was silence all around, with only the light sounds of the sobs that Jisoo was trying to hold back. The tears weren't for her unrequited love, or her departure but rather because of the memories that were flashing before her eyes: of all the times they spend together.
It were the best days of her life, in the midst of her toxic relationship. And the silent support of the man she was supposed to work under, only made her more confident to break out of that relationship and fall in love, all over again, with her boss. And she didn't regret it, never would.
No matter how fearful it was, she loved him. She was courageous, so she loved. He was silent, so he didn't say anything and Jisoo knew, she was into something not destined for her. She accepted that.
Perhaps, she just wished to spend more time with them: the beautiful team, the fatherly figure of the coach, and the beautiful man, Taehyung. Perhaps she wanted to be greedy, but it was time. And she had to leave, unselfishly.
Jisoo
Won't you say anything to me? (asked, with a soft smile)
He didn't. He didn't say a word to her, and sat there with clamped hands and the red cap on his head hiding the emotions of his eyes.
Just as Jisoo was about to stand up and leave, she felt a weight on her shoulder and she pressed her lips tightly to not burst out crying because of it, but a sob came out, anyway.
And the slow voice in her ear.
Jisoo
(broke into a smile; a genuine one as she nodded)
Author
So, guys. How did you like the race? How was the excitement and the aftermath?
Author
Oh and what do you think about Jisoo and Taehyung's relationship? Is it sweet or salty? Or is it bittersweet?
Author
Tell me in the comments. And stay tuned.
[You look Lonely.]
The VIP lounge was a curated blend of luxury and intimacy, dimly lit with plush leather sofas lining the walls.
The air was rich with the scent of expensive cologne and the sweet tang of cocktails, creating an inviting yet electrifying atmosphere.
He didn't really attend nightclubs, even in the best scenes; they were not his scene. He'd rather stay at home, away from the world outside and gaze at the moon, for hours and hours long, wondering if there was someone on the other side of the planet gazing at the moon, and reminiscing.
Jimin
(looked at the silent figure).... You know, Tae, you should've seen hyung last night. He was dancing with a girl and.... let's just say, it was a spectacle!
Hoseok
(scoffed into a chuckle) I was just having fun, and...maybe she got into it, too.
Kim Taehyung
Is that what you guys call fun? (spoke lowly, with his deep yet hazy voice)
Hoseok
(threw him a mock glare, as he continued to sip his drink while watching his friends with a faint smile)
Jimin
C'mon, V. You're too serious tonight! Lighten up. Relax. Get a beer.
Kim Taehyung
(sighed) You know this isn't really my scene.
Hoseok
(raising an eyebrow) We know, but we’re here to celebrate! You just won the championship
Jimin
(nodded vigorously) Exactly! This is your victory night, bro! You know, how the ancient warriors used to celebrate their victory?
Jimin
They used to sing songs, and dance to the beat! So, why don't you try it?
Kim Taehyung
(looked around, observing the music shifting to party beats and people dancing and singing altogether, as he looked down again..)
Kim Taehyung
The noise...it's overwhelming.
Jimin
(leans closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone; earnestly) Listen, I get it. But you’ve spent so long focusing on your career. Just for one night, let’s celebrate. It’s okay to have fun, even if it feels strange.
Hoseok
You don’t have to be the racer or the champion tonight. You just have to be... Kim Taehyung. Just the Taehyung, we know.
Kim Taehyung
(gaze softened, as he looked at Hoseok, in hesitance) I don't trust myself.
Jimin
(rubbed his arm) We trust you. That's all that matters.
Hoseok
Indeed. The worst that can happen is Jimin not getting laid tonight, which...I highly doubt, is ever going to happen.
Jimin
(smirked) We don't pray for love, we just pray for girls~
Jimin
(looked at V and nudged him) Just one glass. C’mon, it’s Italian—smooth as silk. All in the best spirits, mate.
With a sigh, Taehyung reluctantly took the glass, the coolness of it sending a slight shiver down his spine. He took a small sip, the burn of the alcohol a sharp contrast to the calming water he had been nursing all night.
Jimin's eyes watched him closely, waiting for him to finish. Another sip followed, and soon the glass was empty, much to his friend's satisfaction: Taehyung was finally getting himself in the party.
Jimin
How was it? Amazing or Fcking Amazing?! (asked, enthusiastically)
Kim Taehyung
(gulped lightly) It's burning my throat.
Hoseok
(laughed lightly) Oh my god, Tae! That's how all alcohols are supposed to feel like!
Jimin
(chuckled to himself as he poured him another drink, and passed it to him)
Kim Taehyung
It's enough, Jimin.
Jimin
I can't hear anything! You gotta make yourself tolerant to this, V! For the sake of world peace! (emphasised, as he pushed the glass further)
Kim Taehyung
(hesitated, but attached his lips to the rim and gulped the drink away)
Jimin
To Our Champion!! (raised his own glass and gulped the whole drink in one go)
Jimin's phone buzzed quietly in his pocket. He glanced at it, then slowly leaned back in his chair, subtly dialing the manager’s number.
The noise of the club buzzed around them, but Jimin's focus was sharp as he murmured into the phone, his voice barely audible over the ambient hum.
Jimin
Yes, can you..? Okay, thanks. (placed the phone aside, as his gaze met Hoseok's)
Hoseok
(raised his brows, questioningly)
Jimin
(smiled and shook his head, assuredly into a 'i got it')
V’s eyes were half-lidded, his focus wavering as he took another sip. He wasn’t fully aware of Jimin's antiques, nor did he care to be.
The moment Jimin saw the girls walk in, he shot a glance at Hoseok, who tensed uncomfortably in his seat when he watched the girls and the smirk on Jimin's face, knowing very well what he was up to.
Hoseok
Jimin, you know that-!
Jimin
Hyung! Shh! (shushed him and made space for the girls)
The girls circled the table, their presence immediately drawing attention. One of them leaned in close to V, placing a hand on his shoulder, her perfume filling his senses.
But instead of feeling distracted or entertained, V felt an overwhelming sense of irritation. His mind wasn’t with them—it was miles away, stuck in a place only he could reach.
One of the women leaned in closer, her smile inviting but unwelcome. “So, you’re the racer everyone’s talking about? The Architect?”
Kim Taehyung
(rolled his tongue inside his cheek, as he felt his annoyance rising along with the burning sensation in his throat and he threw a menacing glare at Jimin)
Jimin
(smile disappeared when he saw the deadly glare on him, and chuckled nervously) O-Oh no, I think th--the manager misunderstood me!
Jimin
I was just asking for drinks! I think--you ladies have the wrong table-!
The woman, unfazed by his lack of reaction, tried again, this time leaning closer. "Come on, champ. How about we celebrate properly?" she whispered, her breath against his ear.
Taehyung's eyes sharpened, his gaze sliced through the "enjoyable" atmosphere" and his jaw tightened.
She hesitated, pulling back slightly, but another girl leaned in closer, laughing softly as she brushed her fingers against his collar.
Hoseok
(threw a glare at Jimin before speaking in urgency) Alright, girls. He's not in the mood, and he's clearly shown that. Don't force it.
But the women, either oblivious or deliberately pushing their luck, continued to linger. One of them, emboldened by the alcohol, leaned forward, her lips dangerously close to V's ear as she whispered something playful: "Wanna get out of here and land on some bed, däddy?'
Kim Taehyung
Enough. (rising abruptly, with a firm voice)
His jaw tightened and a stern, coldness in his tone made everyone around shiver at the sound. Taehyung glared at Jimin, observing to see if he still thought it was all fun and cool, but the ashamed look of the latter gave away his guilt.
The women finally got the message, their smiles fading as they exchanged looks of disappointment, muttering under their breaths as they retreated.
Jimin
... Taehyung, I'm sorry, man---I just wanted to-!
Kim Taehyung
It's alright. (grabbed his jacket from the couch and pulled it over his shoulders)
Kim Taehyung
I think it's time to leave. (he spoke lowly, as he walked out of the club)
But the world didn't feel any clearer outside the club; it felt much worse. His steps became unsteady, each step heavier than the last as the alcohol took its toll, thanks to that damn alcohol!
Kim Taehyung
(hissed, holding his head) Damn you, Park!
He reached out, grabbing the metal railing by the entrance, his knuckles turning white as he tried to steady himself, until he felt a large arm wrap around his waist, pulling him back to his feet.
Hoseok
Easy, pal. I got you. (spoke in a concerned and vigilant voice)
But V wasn’t really hearing him anymore. The faces in the crowd outside the club were starting to change, to shift in ways that made his heart pound in his chest. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, but it only seemed to make things worse.
When they reached the parking lot, V's driver was already waiting by the car, the engine humming softly in the background. The driver quickly moved to open the door, ready to help his employer inside.
Hoseok
Alright, let's get you home, man.
But just as V leaned towards the open car door, his gaze flickered upward, catching sight of something—or someone—just above the roof of the car.
Time slowed. And then, 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥.
The world around him faded into the background, the noises of the night—the hum of the car, the distant chatter of people—dulled to a distant murmur. His vision tunneled, focusing solely on the face that suddenly appeared above the car's roof, just beyond his reach.
It was that face, the one he'd been desperately searching for in every fleeting glance, every shadowy corner of his mind. The features were unmistakable, etched into his memory with painful precision.
His breath caught in his throat, his heart hammering wildly in his chest as a flood of emotions surged through him: shock, disbelief, hope, and an overwhelming sense of desperation.
His body moved before his mind could catch up. He shoved away from Hoseok, his legs unsteady but driven by a single, all-consuming need to reach them.
Kim Taehyung
Wait! (he tried to shout, but it was barely a whisper that cracked out with every raw emotion and vulnerability in his eyes)
He chased behind it; chased like no tomorrow. If his voice wasn't going to get him, he will use his legs. Or his hands. Or he will crawl, if he has to, but he will reach there. He will reach the figure and not lose them because--
"Oh, I'm sorry. Do I know y---oh wait! Aren't you Kim Taehyung?! The Architect?! Oh my god, I'm a big..." He was panting, his chest heaving, as the realization slowly dawned on him: there was no one there.
Kim Taehyung
(scoffed so lightly, that it couldn't even reach his own ears)
He was alone. Alone, like he has always been. The face, the person he had been chasing, was just a figment of his mind, conjured up by the alcohol and his desperation.
Kim Taehyung
(whispered in a trembling voice) ....𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦?
Jimin
--ove aside! I said, move aside, woman, or I will sue you!
Jimin
(looked at Taehyung) Hey, are you okay---no, of course, you're not. Let's get you inside, yeah?
V didn't respond. He just stared ahead, his eyes unfocused, as if he was still searching for something—someone—that wasn’t really there.
••••• 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 •••••
𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘶𝘱
𝘓𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦.....
His eyes opened, the room around him spun gently; his senses dulled by the heavy fog of sleep and the lingering effects of last night’s alcohol.
The ceiling above seemed to pulse in rhythm with the pounding in his skull, each throb is another note on the piano--wait, is that, Ludovico Einaudi?
He tried to focus, blinking rapidly to clear his vision, but it only made the spinning worse. Groaning, he rolled onto his side, the unfamiliar sensation of sheets clinging to his skin as he reached out, fumbling for his phone.
His fingers brushed the edge of the nightstand, knocking the phone to the floor with a dull thud.
Kim Taehyung
(groaned, as he slammed the bedsheet beside him)
He forced himself to sit up, his head feeling like it was filled with lead. The room tilted slightly as he leaned over, grabbing the phone from where it had fallen.
His eyes struggled to focus on the screen," the letters on the screen swam before his eyes, and he winced against the brightness. The buzz continued, drilling into his brain until he finally managed to swipe the screen and bring the phone to his ear.
Kim Taehyung
Yeah...(spoke in a deep, hazy voice, going octaves lower than it usually is)
There was a brief pause on the other end, then the familiar voice of the other person came through the haze. It was his manager.
???
Are you--alright? I tried to call you last night, but you-!
Kim Taehyung
Get to the point, Namjoon. (groaned, hissing with the stinging pain in his head)
Namjoon
Okay. You don't seem to be in a mood to respond politely, anyway.
Namjoon
You need to come to the company. We need to talk about your win and...your new PA.
The words echoed in his head, each syllable sending a sharp jolt through his temples. He tried to process them, but his mind felt slow, stuck in lingering exhaustion and alcohol-induced stupor.
All he could manage was a low, indistinct grunt in response.
Namjoon
Taehyung? You there?
Kim Taehyung
Yeah---yeah, I will be there. (declined the call and threw it away)
The phone slipped from his fingers, landing on the bed with a soft thump and his eyes drifted shut, the ache in his head melding with the soft hum of the world around him.
He stood up on his feet, wincing as a sharp wave of nausea hit him. The remnants of last night’s celebration clung to him like a heavy fog, each pulse of his headache a painful reminder of the champagne he had indulged in.
He shuffled to the bathroom, the harsh light piercing through his still-heavy eyelids, forcing him to blink rapidly in an attempt to adjust.
As he splashed cold water on his face, he grimaced at his reflection. Dark circles under his eyes bore witness to a restless night, and his hair was a tousled mess from tossing and turning.
Kim Taehyung
(hissed, hammering his head) Fck. Never again!
After a few minutes of splashing cold water, he grabbed a towel, patting his face dry.
The smell of breakfast wafted in from the kitchen, reminding him of the warmth that filled his apartment. His maid had always been attentive, preparing a simple but comforting meal of eggs and toast, the kind that brought a semblance of normalcy to his chaotic life.
Sitting at the small dining table, he pushed the food around his plate, the appetite he once had seemingly lost to the hangover. He took a few sips of coffee, which did little to ease the pounding in his head but still calmed him a bit.
After finishing what little he could stomach, he reluctantly made his way to the front door, the cool air calling him outside. As he stepped out of his apartment building, he inhaled deeply, letting the crispness fill his lungs.
His driver stood by the car, ready as always, the familiar sight bringing him a sense of comfort. The leather seats enveloped him as he settled in, the vehicle’s quiet hum serving as a backdrop to his head.
Kim Taehyung
(mumbled) Agh, just kill me, God!
"Are you alright, sir? Would you want to see a doctor? There's a clinic nearby", the driver looked at him through the rearview mirror.
Kim Taehyung
No, don't---don't worry 'bout me, just drive. It's alright.
He stared out of the window, watching the city awaken around him, the streets filled with commuters and the distant sounds of morning traffic.
Upon reaching the company, he took a moment to gather himself. The building loomed ahead, a symbol of his achievements and the weight of expectations. He stepped out of the car, the cool air biting against his skin.
That's when he was snapped by a familiar voice and he turned his head towards him.
Namjoon
Hey, Tae---oh. Oh, hold on. Wait a second. (stopped on his way)
Namjoon
You do not look like someone who just won a race yesterd---what's with that face?
Kim Taehyung
(shrugged) What, it's a human face.
Namjoon
I was talking about your expression, but anyway, follow me. They are waiting for you.
They both walked towards the conference hall, not long ahead, especially with the elevator. The atmosphere was buzzing with a mix of excitement and anticipation, and as he entered, the murmurs died down.
He walked in, seeing some familiar faces around, as he took his seat, after shaking his hands with everyone who seemed more thriller on his win, than him. Fcking plagiarists.
Robert Manucci (Coach)
So, before we start, let's give a big round of applause for the star of our day, Taehyung. Once again.
Kim Taehyung
(forced a smile, trying to ignore the spark of pain in his head)
Namjoon
Now, let’s talk about media coverage. We have several interviews lined up this week, and I want to make sure we highlight your achievements. I’ll need you to be available for the press on Wednesday and Thursday.
Kim Taehyung
(sighed, massaging his temples) Do I have to?
Namjoon
It’s part of the job, and it helps secure sponsorships.
Namjoon
Speaking of which, we’re looking into some new partnerships. Are you cool with that?
Namjoon
And because you aren't you going to be having any races, any soon, we can focus on the other aspects that we needed to cover.
Namjoon
I’ve scheduled some monthly sessions for you of track therapy. How does that sound?
Kim Taehyung
...Do whatever you want.
Namjoon
Alright, I don't think we have anything mo--(gets a call and picked it up)
Namjoon
Yes---yeah, oh, is he here?--oh, okay. Alright--yes, send him in.
Namjoon
(puts the phone down and slid a document towards Taehyung) Here.
Namjoon
The details of your new personal assistant because apparently, I don't trust you with yourself.
Kim Taehyung
(sighed, shaking his head as he glanced at Robert before opening the document)
Robert Manucci (Coach)
(smiled and whispered) He's a good one; trust me.
Kim Taehyung
(fingers graze the cover, and he inhales sharply)
Just as he’s about to open it, the door swings open, and a familiar voice fills the room.
V's head snaps up at the sound of that voice, his heart racing.
The moment he looks toward the door, he’s met with a figure standing at the threshold—someone he never expected to see again.
The folder from his hand drops on the floor, forgotten, as anything else around; with information written in bold letters:
𝗝𝗲𝗼𝗻 𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸.
𝘓𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦.
Author
Heylo. How did you like it?
Author
Don't tell me it's just me who's delulu to think that you even like it--I mean, honestly, you guys sck at commenting!
Author
Can't even say anything to you cuz in the end, I'm the same. The Silent Reader. Wait--
Author
I can write on that!
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