x. le crépuscule

"On n'aime que ce qu'on ne possêde pas tout entier."

[ beethoven - sonata claro de luna ]

JEN.

The bleaking ray of light that escaped through the cascading window pane of my tampered room was the call of another stringent day that I had to face in this maze of a mansion. Well, I can admit that today had one slip of a difference. It was January. The coldest month for New York City. Also, it was my eighteenth birthday, which means a week full of birthday celebrations and social affairs for me, especially because I'll be officially introducing myself as the rightful heir to the family conglomerate. Mother will bombard me with scheduled interviews, social gatherings,  and business rendezvous for the upcoming year, because it'll help me get the exposure I need.

It to be like this, to be compressed by etiquettes, to hold all these unwanted privileges, and to be constantly trapped in an entitled role that never really defined who I am. It wasn't about what I desired, it was all about what they desired me to be. It was me who achieved their conquests, never mine. This has been my life ever since,  an engraved concourse of broken hopes and dreams. I am walking on an never ending trail of what if's, in where my feet never reaches any silver lining. What a ed up way to live.

So much for poetic implications, I have my own party to attend to on our ranch mansion down Hudson Valley. My parents' business associates, far relatives and some of my elite acquaintances from business school are the ones invited for this exclusive party, another big party will be held on New York, it will be more public and open than tonight. A bit of a feverish display of interest must be enough to entertain the guests.

"You sure you prefer riding on my convertible than your newly purchased limo? Like I wouldn't mind riding your million dollar birthday gift, you know." Taehyung who just became my boyfriend three days ago just came to pick me up, we planned to go to the party together. It was already 3 pm and we're now on the front door of my house with his yellow BMW convertible shining behind him. I shrugged with disinterest. "No, I prefer yellow cars."

"Babe, really, I wouldn't mind having a non-yellow Mercedes-Benz luxury car and a chauffeur driving us to your party." He continued babbling as I opened his car door and took a seat. He then followed and placed his keys to start the engine. "Don't do that." I furrowed my brows, his hands stopped, turned his head and looked at me. "Do what exactly?" An eyebrow was raised.

You know why I'm dating this cliché hearthrob? Because he asked me out in front of every class circle in the campus and I would be damned by the lunatic fangirls if I reject the oh so great Taehyung. Yet he's still my friend after all, and it will stay that way even if I've been forcely labeled as the girlfriend.

"Don't call me that word ever again." I taunted with warning. "I didn't know you'll be this conservative, Jen." An amused smile creeped on his lips along with his brow flinching, a great appeal of insult. "Shut up, or you'll be single tomorrow." I provoked. Timingly, the engined roared, and as Taehyung changed gear, he looked at me again, "Hey fyi, I'm never the person who gets dumped first. So be careful..." He paused with a smirk, I was unconsciously anticipating, "...babe." then he winked at me as he stepped on the accelerator. "Ugh! For pete's sake!" I groaned and rolled my eyes. him and his self-confidence.

...

It was 6 pm and guess what, Taehyung's car broke down in the middle of the Mid-Hudson Bridge. "You ing forgot to gas it up?!" I was deranged, Mother would kill me if I'm late for my own birthday party. The blonde man just scratched his head on the driver's seat, "Well, I wasn't the one in charge of gasing up our cars, so I just get it out of the garage and never check the tank." His revelation just triggered my frustration more. "Mother would seriously kill me! I let you pick me up because I thought it would be easier to have no security following my tail, but I guess having you is worse." I muttered in annoyance.

"Can you chill? I'm contacting JK, he'll help us don't worry." He said with assurance as he swiped up his phone. I made a crude expression, "JK?" I asked in question. "Yeah, Jungkook. You know, he sits beside you on Politics Class? We're - uhm - friends." He informed, but why is his description so personal like he stalks Jungkook everytime? Suspicious.

"You nicknamed him JK? I didn't know that." I gave a subtle expression, "Yeah isn't it cute? He nicknamed me V too." A silly whipped smile came through his lips. "Oh really?" My eyes popped out, as I was figuring out his words. There was something up. I stared at him with discreet and got conscious. He went back to his serious expression as he cleared his throat. "Uhm, anyways. He said to wait for five minutes, he'll give us a ride." His words and tone were now bothered with consciousness. It wasn't hard to connect all the dots, as I figured out that Taehyung dated me to cover up his huge crush on this JK guy. , my boyfriend's gay.

...

Just like Taehyung said, Jungkook arrived and gave us a ride on his limousine because turns out that he was invited to my party too since his parents were business associates with mine. Yet the most shocking moment that happened earlier was me, the girlfriend, becoming the third wheel of us three. A ing mess.  I tried staying ignorant and unaware of the two's budding chemistry, since I have my social anxiety bothering me already.

We arrived thirty minutes after and luckily the guests were just starting to gather the place. When the three of us entered the venue, everything was dominantly lighted with purple and pink lights,  giving you the starry night atmosphere with dimmed lighting coming through the chandeliers and also club lights highlighting the area. The EDM tracks were the main music background, stand tables were also there,  classic champagnes and appetizers were already distributed by the suited waiters. Everything was exquisitely modern and party-like. They literally reconstructed this area of the mansion just to parade how wealthy we are. As expected from my parents, such a show-off.

Moments later, my parents found me and announced to everyone to greet me a happy birthday. Then the mainstream singing went on and I displayed a pretense smile, I was on the main stage sitting on a royal purple throne chair with a bouquet of pink roses on my arms trying to pretend that all of my princess-like dreams have finally come true and I have never been happier in my life, when truthfully all I see is dainty . I'd rather be locked up in my room and paint myself an abstract portrait for a birthday gift.

When the time came where everyone was busy with their own chit-chats, I went down from the platform and tried to lure my boyfriend to help me escape from this awful predicament I am in, but I found myself conversing with strangers who pretend to know me, and try to spark up a conversation that is something I do not need right now.  My anxiety started to churn my insides. It was all overwhelming at once.

When the opportunity to escape came I grabbed a glass of champagne and rushed to exit the place. I was now outside the venue but I was still inside the mansion. Maybe, I should take a rest. I thought as I made my way to my bedroom. But when I thought that everyone can't find me since they're all busy at the party, a maiden with a long chestnut hair surprised me as I took a right to reach my room. She didn't notice me though maybe because she was staring intently at my canvas painting pinned into the wall. I got intrigued myself, not because of the painting, but because of her looking at it.

I can't deny, she exudes elegance and beauty even from a distance. I can see her personal interest on my painting, her eyes were expressive, genuinely expressive. Then I had this sudden urge to approach. So I took a step forward, "It's called le crêpuscule." I informed with politeness. It was weird because I wanted to start a conversation with her, and everybody knows I don't do that scary .

"Huh?" She was a bit startled but when she turned and met my gaze, she figured out what I said. "Oh."

I smiled as I went beside her, facing the painting. "It means—" I wasn't able to finish my sentence when she interrupted, "—twilight. It means twilight, right?" She responded. "You know french?" I asked in surprised curiosity. She nodded, "Lived there for three years the least."

"That's why." I was convinced. Both of our eyes went back to gazing at the canvas. I remembered painting this in the middle of the night, I was fifteen and I was crying. I witnessed my parents going into a grave fight in front of me, and for a kid who has never been exposed to such heartache, I couldn't help but overthink about what would happen next. I was scared about everything — about everything crashing before me, knowing that I could never save anything nor could I save myself for that matter. So my thoughts carried my hands into a paint brush again, with a blank canvas. Ready to be painted by my mind's toxicity. Tears were constantly dropping as every of the brush became more painful than the other.

That's why I painted a white stallion gliding through the moon's twilight, with bended knees galloping through the scene. Wanting to run forever in the da