VMINKOOK / THE ART OF BEEKEEPING

34

— PART THIRTY-FOUR.

' a stupid-er document '

duplicitous? oh, absolutely. they've got such false faces, like they're made of wax. i wonder what madame tussaud's would give to have such pretty, lifelike figures amongst their collection. only difference is, their minds aren't as meltable as wax; no, they're impossible to even attempt to pry open. thick skulls cut off any access to the celestial cerebrum, and there's a wall beneath their skin, something that is impassable, no matter how hard you stare into their cosmic eyes. like children from the heaven's, horror bleeds from every orifice — haunted cherubs, fallen angels, more like wicked wiccan with curses bounding around their tongues, readying themselves to spool out in blackened puffs of smoke. puffs of smoke? what kind of dumb metaphor is that? witches? angels? devils? satanists? oh, yes, of course, they're all cult members! god, i'm a fucking genius!

"God, I am so fucking stupid." Taehyung slams his head onto the keyboard, allowing a gargling group of letters to scramble for their lives across his document. He doesn't know whether to laugh or cry, as he sits in the darkness of his room, only illuminated by the eyesore of a computer screen. Truly, he feels like an idiot for even trying to comprehend those two buffoons, he's half-tempted to just scrap this whole idea and... and, well that's the whole dilemma, he doesn't have any clue on how he could possibly escape their clutches.

Moving to a deserted island somewhere was starting to look like a viable option, at least there, he wouldn't have to worry about people and their impure intentions.

"T! Pizza's here!"

Groaning, Taehyung slips his feet into his wolf slippers, and gloomily trudges to the kitchen, where his dad was rooting through the fridge for a beer, humming joyfully to himself. There was some trashy sitcom blaring on the television, and the boy found himself bizarrely comforted by the sight.

"Oh, my darling child, you look fucking awful." He says, as he finally turns to see his son, who's got a glum expression twisting around upon his dainty features. Yejun laughs excessively at the boy's current state, "have you been in your pyjamas all day?"

"Well... yeah." Taehyung's smile slides onto his face, not being able to suppress it when amongst his dad's naturally warm glow, "I've been sleeping most of the day."

"My, how lazy you have become." Yejun chuckles, chugging down a huge gulp of alcohol, 'it's saturday!' was always his joyful excuse when Taehyung pretended to chastise him for it, "anyways, settle down, have some pizza, tell me all the goss, what's happenin' down at the old school house?"

The blonde haired boy frowns at his dad's intentionally annoying tone of voice, and exuberant words, "dad," he whines, a pout upon his lips as he gnaws on a slice of the sloppy, greasy mess.

"Taehyung," the man cops the teen's tone, along with his expression, chewing exaggeratedly on his own slice, "jee, you look like you need a beer."

"Nah, I'm alright."

"Pfff, what a loser," Yejun rolls his eyes jokingly, stirring no such amused reaction from his son, "ok, what's going on? Why so gloomy and boring?"

Taehyung looks up at his father, who's peering down at him, with comical, narrowed eyes. His skin was smooth, like a representation of youth, and yet, there was such age and wisdom in those silenced, sorrel eyes. The boy always felt safe when in the grasp of those eyes, "nah, nah, I'm okay, just stressing about some project."

"Ah," Yejun nods in understanding, "wha—"

"Hey, how'd your date go with that sunshine gal?" Taehyung interrupts, wanting to change the subject instantly.