꒰🍒꒱ lil note : repetition is a technique I use to emphasize significant ideas, so all repetition that you'll see from now on is intentional uwu

꒰🍒꒱ also, the story plot will be starting deeper after this chap :DD (this chappy is a peek into beomgyuie) I'm excited to show yall what I've been planning with this! and note that I'm a science student and not an arts student, so sorry if I made any mistakes!i had made a thorough research of this beforehand, though i might still get some wrong T__T

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

To be frank, Beomgyu knew people talked about him behind his back. He knew they feared him, he knew they all suppressed to talk his name in school. He knew.

He was the mistake that teachers gossip about in lounges. People theorize on why he changed out of his perfect life in the art department for music; a subject he was incompetent about. He was a mistake, he is a mistake. 

He had his future planned out at the beginning before everything came pouring down on him like a rainstorm. A small house by the waters where he'd make downstairs a coffee house, he'd serve coffee with personalized latte art he made. Timber flooring that smelled of furniture stores and wooden round tables where he'd serve customers their drinks, a console table to display his paintings by the door. 

Above the little coffee house would be his home. His and his lover's home. Beomgyu didn't have a lover in mind when he created this scenario in his head, but he knew he wanted to settle down when he was at that age. he wanted see-through curtains in his bedroom that he'd keep open during the day, and shut at night, letting moonlight reflecting from the waters into his room. For stormy evenings, he'd shut the blackout curtain behind it.

He'd wake up and open the window to the smell of the ocean and he'd paint on the balcony on days he decides to close the shop early. He'd paint the ocean, the view, his mother, his significant other, anything he could think of and gave him inspiration- or a sense of calamity, he would lay on a canvas.

He'd kiss his lover before they went to work every day- assuming they dont work with him. Beomgyu prefers if they'd work with him on the coffee shop, but that was entirely up to them. They'd have bread and cakes that were snuck out from the display case, supposed to be sold in the shop, with quiet and sneaky giggles on their balcony for breakfast every morning, and at night, he'd shut the shop after his lover comes back home safe and sound.

And then what? he had remembered asking himself, asking all the right questions to make sure his dream was well thought through so it would at least be realistic.

And then, he deems. And then he'll die. 

If he can just live like that, with no concerns, with his lover and maybe children in the future, he'd be happy to die after. As long as he got to live the simple life he wanted, he'd give back to nature as gratitude and rest.

But Beomgyu was no longer like that.

even his art teacher hadn't known what had gotten to him the last day they were having lessons. The last day Beomgyu was smiling. A bright blonde tenth grader who wore a white shirt with plenty of stains and slender jeans that hugged him right; was what he had been that last day. The day before he snapped.

It was five in the afternoon when the department's art teacher; Kibum, or Mr. Kim, had entered the studio to store the paintings for the student's that stayed behind. 

Their highschool was nice. if work was due that day or the day after, the doors were always going to be open until five pm every day. 

When he entered, however, he was met with an extremely horrid sight.

When people hear Beomgyu's name, they think of paintbrushes and stains of stationary colors against a linen canvas, sun-kissed by the rays of early morning light.

But at that moment, when Kibum sees a small form curled up in the corner of the white-walled studio, drawings and brushes scattered and paint wasted on the floor, cans opened and spilled, coloring the floor a bright pinkish-blue, (the color of Daegu when it was spring, he notes) he knew something was wrong. 

It was like someone left a stain on what was once a beautiful painting. The previous envisionment of the boy completely turned around. He was no longer a hung painting, but a ruined one. colors clashed and composition done wrong, a disproportionate piece of abandoned work. He lays there with his head buried deep into the crook of his arms.

The empty studio echoed with alarmingly loud sobs, wails that sounded heartbreaking from the small trembling figure. Kibum slowly approached the younger, kneeling in front of him.

"Choi Beomgyu? What happened?" he asked slowly, but the kid doesn't respond, so he moves closer, one hand moving to gently grab his shoulder.

Beomgyu shoots up and shrieks, moving further into the wall. His eyes were extremely bloodshot and his soft pale cheeks were stained with tears and nail scratches. Beomgyu had a different glint in his eyes, the once happy and excited shine now replaced with fear.

Beomgyu was looking at his teacher, but he wasn't there with him. Kibum knows. 

"Hey," the scared younger's teacher calls out, "Come back to me, B-"

Beomgyu lets out another pained cry, and he buries his head into his arms once again, shaking like a leaf.

"Mom,"

His teacher looks at him apprehensively, as if Beomgyu was a piece of glass, arms raised. 

"B-"

"Mom, mom, mom," Beomgyu sobs brokenly into his arms, "Mom,"

That day, he was sent to the counselor that was just closing, and his teacher never heard from him again. 

Except for the fact that he stayed in the counseling until midnight, that day.

The incident spread after that when they heard that prodigy Choi Beomgyu had torn his own painting on the rooftop and screamed at everyone who tried to stop him.

Insane was what people called him.

When he suddenly pushed all his many friends away and ate alone at lunch,

When he had started hanging out with a completely, completely different group of people soon after- the group that the old color-splashed boy would always try to avoid.

When students saw him move classes to music only to beat up the student there- Taehyun. That's when people started to fear him. To talk about him behind his back, to make sure every new student that enters will never experience what they merely heard in stories.

Now, when people hear Beomgyu's name, they think of the famous 2002 painting from the anonymous artist Bansky. the Girl with Balloon, it was called. The painting that was auctioned at the highest price of 1.4 million, but was shredded to pieces the moment the gavel hit, immediately decreasing its value. Worthless.

Beomgyu knew he was the school's hot topic. He knew people feared him and thought he was a heartless bully.

He knew.