it was winter all over again.

cold, impulsive, ludicrous — the entirety of this universe knew how much jeon jungkook despised wearing five layers of clothing just to hide his rosy cheeks. but, of course, despite his undying hatred towards this particular time of the year, jungkook still stepped out of his sports car and was greeted with a trail of hungry reporters.

"jeon jungkook-sshi!"

"how are you feeling tonight?"

"mr. jeon, is this your new ride?"

jungkook almost groaned at the mention of the last question. the last thing he would want at the moment was to keep these swarming bees entertained, instead of rushing towards the victorian-styled building complex a few meters ahead — which, of course, would have been an easier task if he actually had more than two bodyguards.

"i'm counting on you, park jimin," nodding his head at the kind assistant slash spokesperson he always used as a back up whenever his mouth didn't feel like working on its own, jungkook proceeded to spill a few basic informations to the older man before fleeing the scene.

"oh, please. don't worry about me," the latter only stifled a genuine laugh. "have fun, mr. jeon, the night is yours."

it didn't take long until one of his bodyguards whipped the star away from the crowd, muttering a shit load of this way, sir as they entered the art museum.

since when did painters receive such overwhelming love from citizens, anyway?

tonight was the launching party of jungkook's first painting, which would be hung at one of the best sections the place could provide. despite of going against his father's wishes of becoming a prosecutor, just like every single person in the household, he was still able to prove his worth by attending the most prestigious art university in seoul and achieved the dreams he had always been passionate about.

but something was missing.

in the sea of curators and art critics who were dying to hear his speech, there was someone else whom jungkook fancied to see.

it wasn't a coincidence as per why his painting was the portrait of a strange man in his twenties, cascaded in a long black hair and korean imperial robes; jungkook himself couldn't exactly recall his name, how did they meet or if they ever did meet, but when he first found their picture resting inside the gallery of his phone, jungkook was drawn almost a little too immediately — as if everything was falling into place.

who are you? the complexity of his feelings was bizarre, indeed. even metaphysics weren't able to describe the warmth that surged through his veins the moment he visualised it into strokes.

but, weren't memories supposed to be remembered?

because through space and time, jeon jungkook was paralyzed, and after years of searching for the clues that only led him to dead ends, he knew for sure that his heart had never left. that the traditionally dressed man he had mindlessly drawn without even knowing his identity first, was most likely never even there in first place.

all jungkook wanted was to remember,

but what if he couldn't?

jungkook still remembered how he woke up in the middle of the street, just a few months before his graduation, right in front of the restaurant where jimin forced him to meet his chosen women of blind dates. he had absolutely no recollection of memories — his dirty clothes, the makeshift bag he found slung around his body . . . nothing. at that time, his mind was a chaos, for it was one of the many experiences he would never want to go through again.

but the more he thought about it,

maybe, just maybe,

all these events had connections with the man in traditional robes he had never met— or at least remembered.

was he being forgetful? was it amnesia? were they simply not meant to be together? jungkook might never know. but if there was one thing he was sure about, was that painting him was the best decision he had ever made in his entire life.

by all means, how couldn't, when hundreds and hundreds of visitors, art curators from different areas of korea who paid visit, loved it most? unique, spectacular, heartfelt . . . those were three of the many praises he had been receiving ever since he arrived.

heartfelt.

thirty minutes before closing time, jungkook found himself still standing in front of the painting, which he named paralyzed for its paralysing century of silla, just thinking about the possibilities and impossibilities that might appear along with the collateral beauty. the echoing silence was strangely comfortable, giving him space to peel off the jeon jungkook, the painter image for a split second, to simply jeon jungkook.

"jungkook-ah," a man with soprano voice tapped his shoulder. it was park jimin, his college best friend who had turned into one of the most influencing people throughout his career.

"hmm?"

"sorry to burst your bubbles, but someone is here to see you," jimin continued. "i heard from the others that he's a well-known actor. should i let him in?"

jungkook raised his eyebrow. "i don't care who he is. the gallery is closing soon— how did he get in?"

"i don't really understand either. now, should i?"

"five minutes, hyung," he shrugged lazily.

"alright . . ." jimin took a step back, signalling the unknown visitor that he was allowed to join them.

he was a man in his twenties, slightly older than jungkook with brown hair tousled to the back and an exclusive tuxedo that matched his fancy vibes. he was beautiful, very beautiful; just that jungkook was still too busy admiring his own art, that he forgot the man was already standing beside him.

"i love your painting a lot,"

the deepness of his voice immediately sent chills to the spine. jungkook didn't hesitate to whip his head, only to meet the exact same person he brushed on his canvas. but instead of wearing imperial robes and possessing a long hair, the man who should have come from silla was dressed in all of his modesty.

"thank you," jungkook nodded. "everyone has been trying to buy it, but i just haven't found the right one."

"not even when they're willing to give you millions?"

feeling an unexpected sense of rendezvous, it only took seconds for jungkook to widen his eyes as their visions met, endless amounts of butterflies swarming inside the pit of his stomach. "i guess so."

"see, it's a matter of heart," the man only smiled in reply. "but if i tell you that i'm interested to queue together with those failing buyers, what do you have in mind?"

"you're interested to buy it?"

"paralyzed? yes."

"can i . . . at least know your name first?" jungkook raised his eyebrow, feeling his heart skipped its beat.

"v," the man smiled, a hand reaching to be shaken. "my name is v."

yes, if you're wondering, v the actor is the reincarnation of taehyung the hanbok man. and yes, jungkook loses all of his memories about taehyung. hehehe. also, that's a wrap!

thank you so much for all the love you've given for paralyzed, i'm honestly nothing without you guys. and thank you to aritemis, who gave me the permission to bloom her beautiful fanmade video into literature. you're seriously the real mvp.

please pretty please don't hesitate to drop your questions for all characters (or whatever you want) here! i will try to answer as much as i can :)

for now, goodbye & see you soon ♡

p.s. don't remove this from your library, i still have more things to come!