A short chapter for your too long wait~
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When Beomgyu returned to his usual late-night post, he walked in expecting a normal lazy night. He did not expect to be running for his life half an hour later. Then again, when did anything ever go the way he expected.
The night started in its usual way, the artist quickly preparing his art supplies in a matter of minutes, an art he had mastered in his few days of painting the wall. He was a third of the way through painting the last figure, just having finished its outline and base coat when, through his earphones, he heard the loud, ringing sound of the front door slamming shut.
The boy froze, his heart immediately beating ten times faster as loud voices began to echo throughout the deserted school building. His hands began to shake, dropping the paintbrush that was previously in his grasp, and slowly, Beomgyu's vision began to blur. Didn't he lock the door after him? Why are people h-
"Do you think we will be able to see them?"
"Don't they paint nightly?"
"Didn't you see the car out front? They're here!"
"I'm so excited!"
"Who do you think it'll be?"
A growing buzz in Beomgyu's ears began to overlap the voices that were quickly growing closer and, without a second thought, Beomgyu grabbed his phone and sprinted down the dark halls, trying his best to stay light on his toes as to not give up his location with loud footfalls. The hallways swayed slightly but never went further than that and the Artist was able to make it down a few hallways without any trouble. It wasn't until he slammed into a locker after a turn taken too quickly that the voices began to shout.
"Did you hear that!"
"They're here!"
"Find them!"
Beomgyu gasped for air, trying to keep his lungs from collapsing as he twisted and turned through the hallways. Run faster. Don't let them see you. What the fuck were the students even doing here? Couldn't they wait two more days? Was that so fucking hard?
Hot tears began to prickle behind his eyelids, a mix of the cold wind hitting his eyes and his deep sense of frustration and panic. He had to get out, but he also left everything out, the paint lids still off the cans. Not only that, he hadn't even responded to the notes.
"It's not your fault," he whispered to himself as he turned down yet another dark hallway. In all his panic, contributed towards by the dim light, Beomgyu's eyes missed the fact that the tiled floor was still wet from when the janitor had cleaned it a half-hour earlier. The next thing he knew, the artist was slipping, his arms flailing as he tripped over his own feet, gravity pulling him down. His elbows and knees slammed into the ground, his hips quickly after, and his phone flew from his hand. He groaned, pulling his knees up to his chest as if that could protect him from the pain. The crash seemed to have alerted his chasers because, soon, their footfalls began to grow louder, their voices bouncing throughout the halls, easily climbing their ways into the boy's ears.
"Over there!"
"What the hell was that!"
His first tears pooled over his eyelids as Beomgyu clumsily and wobbly made his way off the floor, swiping his phone back into his hands before continuing to run, his gate now more of a hobble than a run. However, giving credit where credit is due, his hobble was quite fast. Finally, miraculously, Beomgyu somehow made his way back to the mural without being seen. Quickly, he topped the cans of paint before grabbing his sweatshirt and keys that had been thrown to the side and booked it out the door, the wild students still inside.
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who are you? || taegyu || completed
Fanfiction"Who are you?" "You'll see." ------ Beomgyu was an artist. And he was pretty damn good. At least that's what people told him. He had very little faith in his abilities but loved the hobby nonetheless. When Yeonjun asks the boy to paint a mural on t...
