7. Into Your Arms

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There was a painting on the back of his head. It was monochromatic. The streets were in the sonic silver shade of grey pallet. The flowers were snowy white with leaves closer to moonlit grey. The silver sky looks aesthetic with all the charcoal clouds huddling next to the midnight black moon. Under a tree with leaves white and falling ivory petals, there sat a boy with a violin in his hands.

His face was blurred, his hands circled the violin as he stared at the sky. The raven hair messily dances along with the breeze, finding his tranquility within the tragedy. He wasn't playing the violin, instead, his fingers finding their way to touch the string ever so softly, the bow was on the silver-grey lawn, the glistening makes his eyes flutter close. There was soothing music in the background adding up the melancholy of what it looks like a morning but so close to a night. Puzzled world spinning around in reverse.

The tattoo on the wrist of the boy says 00:00 while his painted black nails touched the white fallen petals. His head turns to the right, registering to the music that can be heard from afar, orbs inches away from meeting his almond brown ones and

Bam. His eyes shot open. An unknown sound buzzed in the middle of the night, reminding him that that's it. The dream ends there. Without opening his eyes, he sat on his bed, blinking twice to recall what he saw. But he could only see a grey canvas. Typical. The world looks typical to him. The nights, the music, the flowers, the colors, the people- everyone was either white or black. If not, then grey.

Jungkook tried to gather up the broken puzzle pieces of the dream he just witnessed. Sweat beads camping on his forehead, sore body, and soft heart put him in a position where he couldn't concentrate on anything else but just the illusions. His mind subconsciously paints the tree, the violin, the music, and the tattoo.

Jungkook clenched his fist at his failed attempt of getting a glimpse of his dream once again. There's a foggy picture of the hint in his mind but that wasn't enough. The shadows were not enough. He gritted his teeth before getting up from the bed and walking towards the balcony. Why is he even awake? Jungkook inhales the night sky and lets out a sigh. Even if it's midnight or the morning, it all looks the same. This place looks so different from the days he came here. It changed a lot in his mind. Being the part of a different century never made him tired until tonight when he couldn't pinpoint what was behind those grey footage he just saw.

To say about Jeon Jungkook and his present, there isn't a lot. He is an optimistic, vivid thinker, and open-hearted man. He can be a jock and a good boy, works hard, studies well, excellent in sports, and is obedient to his parents. Jungkook doesn't break rules. Sure he does make some whenever he gets bored with playing Overwatch, or when he completes the whole snack pack. He used to believe that the decisions of hearts are instantaneous. Depending on the feelings the organ assumes people and life, lazy to think about the pros and cons of the conclusion. It didn't take a lot for him to change it though, to rewrite that feelings don't always make you weak.

The present Jungkook left behind has a stack of books on his neat table, the soothing playlist that would buzz through his glowing Bluetooth speaker at nights, thousand cups of his favorite ramen packs, and the skyscrapers of Seoul at night which would look tiny to his eyes when he stands at the rooftop of his dorm. Did I mention that Jungkook is a perfectionist? Stubborn to do everything and win over every competition? Oh, yeah. He's living up to the nickname his family and friends bestowed him. The golden boy. He smiles at his thoughts. Does he regret leaving them behind? No. Not a single bit. Does he miss those days? Yes. Tiny, but yes. He missed the chaos once he hated.

The wind gushing around him was cold enough to give him goosebumps. He pulled his grey sweater paws and hid his hands under them. Standing there on the balcony, glancing at the closed window somehow heals him. Each whiff felt like ecstasy. The fog that blurs the glasses makes him wonder about the souls who are away from him, who are happy with their present, who are in love with their partner from the very beginning, and those who wanted to travel back in time to meet their beloved just like Jungkook did. Will there be people like that? No. He doesn't think so.

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