Shy but talkative, tall but soft spoken, handsome but self-conscious—Taeyang is something of a contradiction.

He carries himself as someone whose kindness has been taken advantage of one too many times does. His steps are soft, his smiles hidden. He speaks of trivial things that only hint at a depth he's unwilling to reveal lest it drown him. Even his back is often against the wall, as if danger is looming over him always.

When he does open up, it's by degrees. Every two steps forward comes one step back. He's given to bright smiles and giggly laughter that seems out of place on a man his age, height, or sharpness of jawline. Yet there's always a deep inner world for him to retreat to in silence.

What else does one expect of the sun seeking a place to hide in the night?

[TW: attempted suicide]

"Your bitter recollections have time to change themselves into sweet remembrances."
— Alexandre Dumas

Taeyang was born the youngest of two sons in a middle class family. He grew up in a loving home, and found some comfort in the shade of his brother's achievements as a child. His mother doted on both of her sons. His father only occasionally turned his nose up at Taeyang's propensity to bring his mother the flowers he picked from the family's small back garden. If he had lived the rest of his life that way, perhaps he would have saved himself a few scars.

As he grew older, Taeyang was something of a late bloomer. He kept to himself, preferring the company of plants or the distraction of a good manhwa. People were too complicated. The only plants that had ever hurt him only did so until he learned to respect the thorns and spines needed to protect delicate flesh and fragile blooms.

His first relationship made him wish he had been given such a protection of his own. He was too thin, too weak, and said yes when he meant no to the girl who had shown interest in him. The feeling of being special was far too fleeting in the fox-like eyes of his pretty classmate before the barbs of her teasing cut a bit too deep and kissing her felt... gray.

Unfortunately, it wasn't until he was nearly nineteen that he realized that the somber feeling that came with kissing her wasn't normal in a relationship. Rather, it was a bad omen. Still, his bleeding heart wouldn't know peace even when most affection, whether it was from men or women, tasted like ash and smelled of 'sweet corpse.'

Taeyang doesn't speak much of his young adulthood. What there is to know comes in between the lines. He mentions his mother, not his father; he shies away from physical touch; he looks down when people get too close, rather than hold eye contact; and he rarely sits around other people.

He was told once, not long after he sought his escape from society in the most final way possible, that something dark is attached to him. Whether it came before or after his sunflower tattoo, he's uncertain. The spiritualist that told him, said it laughed at the little white gold cross he wears around his neck. When his attempt failed and there was no one left to tie his hands, he sought to shelter where whatever misfortune hovers around him will either spell his end at last or grow tired of him.