The vision
Seoul, 2:47 AM
The night outside was quiet. The kind of quiet that didn't feel peaceful — it felt… watched.
Taehyung sat up in bed, chest rising and falling rapidly, sweat lining his forehead despite the cold air of his penthouse apartment. His breathing was ragged, eyes wide, pupils dilated.
Again. The same dream.
But this time… her voice.
"Come back to me..."
It wasn’t a whisper anymore. It had echoed.
He slowly brought a shaky hand to his lips, like he was holding onto the echo — the voice of a girl he’d never seen in real life, but had been meeting for weeks in his dreams.
And every time, her eyes… violet. Not brown, not hazel — but shimmering, glowing violet. Eyes that looked like they'd seen lifetimes.
He stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at Seoul’s sleeping lights. The city buzzed with silent stories, yet none felt as strange as the one playing out in his own life.
---
“You need rest, Tae.”
Namjoon’s voice from earlier that day rang in his ears.
“You’ve been spacing out a lot lately. What’s going on with you?”
Taehyung hadn’t answered.
How do you explain to someone that your dreams feel more real than your life?
That the girl in your mind feels more like home than anyone else ever has?
He leaned his forehead against the glass. “Who are you…?” he whispered into the night.
No answer. Just silence. And that same burning pull in his chest.
---
Next Morning — Art Exhibition, Downtown Seoul
“You sure you wanna be here?” Jungkook asked, glancing over at Taehyung who had his hoodie pulled up and a mask on, sunglasses covering his eyes even indoors.
“Just walk,” Taehyung muttered.
He didn’t know why. He’d just felt it — like he was supposed to be here. The urge had hit him like a wave this morning. A sudden, deep need to go to this gallery in a quiet alley of Itaewon.
And he followed it. Just like that.
Like a magnet drawn to something familiar.
He wandered between the frames, his heart oddly uneasy. The paintings were all… strange. Abstract. Ethereal. Almost too familiar.
Then he froze
There. A canvas in the far corner. Large, framed in black, drowning in a violet misty glow.
He stepped forward, his breath catching in his throat.
The painting — it was her.
The exact girl from his dreams.
Same eyes. Same face. Same expression.
Same mark on her wrist.
A spiral of stars… just like in his vision.
He stared. His hands shook slightly. His lips parted.
He hadn’t told anyone about her. Not even the members.
But someone… someone painted her.
“Do you like it?”
A soft voice behind him. Warm. Calm. Feminine.
He turned slowly.
And his heart stopped.
She was standing there.
The girl from his dreams.
Except now… she was real.
---
Her name was Evelyn Min. Half-Korean, half-French. Painter. Quiet. Gentle aura.
No press. No noise. No scandals.
She existed like a whisper.
But to Taehyung, she roared into his world like a storm.
He couldn’t stop staring.
And she noticed.
“You okay?” she asked, cocking her head with a nervous laugh.
Her voice — the same voice from the dream.
“I… I’ve seen you before,” he whispered.
She blinked. “What?”
“In a dream,” he added quickly, shaking his head and trying to smile it off. “Sorry. That probably sounds creepy.”
“No…”
Her voice dropped.
“It doesn’t.”
Because suddenly, she remembered something too.
Those eyes... those eyes felt familiar. She knew, she has seen him somewhere but...where?
her heart was clenching for no reason. What was the effect of those eyes.
And in that moment, surrounded by strangers and art and silence —
they both realized this wasn’t their first meeting.
It was their first return.
---
---
Seoul, 3:05 PM — Art Gallery, Inner Hall
The world outside buzzed with horns and noise.
But in here — the air between them stood still.
Taehyung kept his eyes locked on Evelyn like he was reading a verse written just for him.
She looked back at him with silent curiosity.
Neither of them spoke for a few long seconds.
Then she smiled — hesitant, polite, distant.
“Would you like to know what this painting means?” she asked, pointing to the canvas — the one that had captured him moments ago.
He gave a short breath of a laugh. “Only if it doesn't involve dark magic.”
That made her laugh — softly, but genuinely. It hit him in the chest like sunlight.
“No dark magic,” she said. “Only… a little madness.”
Taehyung tilted his head. “You painted this?”
She nodded. “Last month. I had this strange dream — over and over again — of a man with eyes full of sorrow… like he was waiting for something he had already lost.”
Her voice had grown distant, like she was half-talking to herself.
“I didn’t know his face,” she continued, “but I remembered the emotions. And this woman. She was reaching for him, but… something invisible was pulling her back.”
She paused. “So I painted it. I called it… The Pull.”
His heart stuttered.
Evelyn didn’t know it yet — but she had just described his exact dream.
He licked his dry lips, searching her face.
He wanted to ask a million things.
Wanted to tell her everything.
Wanted to touch her hand just to feel if this was real.
But instead, he just said: “Can we… talk?”
---
Café Lumière – 4:22 PM
They sat across from each other, untouched drinks between them.
He still wore his hoodie and mask, sunglasses on the table now. Evelyn sat wrapped in a soft brown scarf, her black curls escaping her messy bun.
There was something incredibly fragile about her presence, like she existed on the edge of a dream and might disappear if he blinked too long.
“You’re an artist,” he said, finally breaking the silence.
She nodded. “And you’re… Taehyung.”
He winced a little. “I hoped you didn’t recognize me.”
She smiled. “I did. But I didn’t want to make it weird.”
“You already painted me in your dream,” he teased gently. “Can’t get weirder than that.”
She blushed. “Fair point.”
He leaned forward, voice low. “Evelyn… you don’t think this is strange?”
She looked into his eyes. “I think it’s terrifying.”
He stilled.
“But,” she added softly, “I also think some things are meant to be terrifying. The best things usually are.”
That answer struck him deeper than he cared to admit.
---
Evening — Han River
They walked without talking much. Every now and then, she would glance at him, as if confirming he was real.
They sat on a bench facing the water.
Lights shimmered. Boats passed slowly.
The wind carried the scent of autumn leaves and memory.
Taehyung looked sideways. “I’m not… normal, Evelyn.”
She turned toward him, her eyes serious.
“No one is..”
He hesitated. “I have dreams. Visions, maybe. And I don’t mean those ‘random subconscious’ ones. They feel like memories. Like… like I’ve lived them.”
Evelyn inhaled sharply.
“I see a girl,” he said, voice just above a whisper. “In every one. Her eyes are violet. Her hair, like shadow. She has a mark on her wrist… a spiral of stars.”
Evelyn’s blood turned cold.
“Wait…” she whispered. “A spiral?”
He nodded.
She slowly pulled back her scarf… and pushed up her sleeve.
There it was.
The mark.
Taehyung stared. Then his eyes met hers.
Neither of them breathed.
“Who are you?” he whispered.
no words were shared.
She was just looking at him with something in her eyes. Something...that only he can read.
---
Late Night — Evelyn’s Apartment
Evelyn sat cross-legged on her floor, old sketchbooks scattered around her.
Charcoal. Paint. Ink. Every page — filled with the same face.
The man with sorrowful eyes.
The one she thought she invented.
But he was real. He had a name. And he had just touched her soul without even trying.
She pulled out a dream journal she hadn’t opened in months. Flipping through pages, she paused at an entry:
"The woman burns.
The man cries in silence.
A ring of fire. A crown. A curse."
Her fingers trembled.
Taehyung wasn’t a stranger.
He was a memory.
---
Meanwhile — Taehyung’s Penthouse
He stood at the mirror, shirtless, staring at his reflection.
Right over his heart — faint, like ink under skin — was a spiral too.
He touched it. It pulsed warm.
A voice echoed in his mind:
"She is your undoing,
and your salvation.
The Enchantress must choose —
to love you or destroy you."
He fell back onto the bed, overwhelmed.
“Who were you to me…?” he whispered into the dark.
No answer.
But far away, Evelyn also whispered into the night:
“Why do I feel like I’ve lost you before
—Midnight
She stared at the moon from her window.
He stared at the same moon from his balcony.
Different places.
Same thought.
Same pull.
Hi guys!! It's my first ever story so please avoid the mistakes and support me if you like it.❤️
