The Painter [k.th] AU

PARIS

Taehyung POV

"I never thought I'll ever come back here..." I mumble to myself.

As I exit the French airport, I take a deep breath, close my eyes and it all comes back to me: the first time I saw her smile, her scent, our first fight, my first time... she was my first everything. I remember all this about her so clearly... and lost in memories I am happy for just a second. This is the place where we met. Paris.

When I open my eyes, reality hits me: she's gone! She is no longer in this world. I can never get her back.

I pick up my luggage and enter the car that's awaiting me, along with my assistant, Solar. She has been my assistant for 5 years now and she probably knows why sadness settled on my face a moment ago. She surely knows how much I miss her. My wife. Solar probably misses her as well. They used to be good friends. But then again, who wasn't friends with her? She was the most kind, lovely and friendly human on earth. But now, the angels are luckier than us.

It's been 2 years since ... the accident.
The first 6 months after her death everyone thought I was going to go crazy, including myself. I actually thought I was going to die from missing her so much. But my family and friends managed to convince me that she wouldn't want me to live like that so I tried to pick myself up somehow. Honestly, I think I'll never get over her. I loved her too much. But at least now I'm making an effort to live better. For her.

Nothing helped me. Not alcohol, not other women, not my best friends, not even the 3 months of therapy I secretly attended. Nothing. Well... nothing except art.

A year after her death I visited an art gallery. I used to love going to those with her. It was like a hobby of mine... collecting art pieces, especially paintings. Solar booked it for me to go alone, she said something like it's part of the healing process. I didn't want to go at first but also didn't want to disappoint my caring assistant, so I went.

It was at that art gallery where I discovered my new favourite artist. At first, I didn't know if it's a she or he because they only signed one letter: J. And it didn't even matter because J's works were amazing. J's paintings managed to pull me out of my depression for short periods of time and I felt guilty for it. Nonetheless I kept searching for more and more information about J. It became my only distraction.

I soon learned that J was a female artist from France. She was born in South Korea but moved to Paris after she got married. Rumor has it that she actually lost her husband after 4 months of being married. In that sense she was just like me. We both lost our spouses. Maybe that's why I felt so connected to her art. Her success began only after her husband's passing. She became more famous this past year because the emotions she manages to convey into her work.

When I first saw her paintings, I cried. Not just a lonely tear under my eye, no no no. I sobbed like a baby. One piece in particular caught my eye.