Drabble : GREY
Yoongi x Reader
Gif credit to owner
Touch me/ feel me / hear me/ I yearn to exist / I only feel tangible with your eyes on me/ only feel real as you call my name
⚠️ Warning ⚠️ : BTS seasons greeting video which inspired this. Sad. Mentioned insanity and death.
"There is two types of music in this world good music and bad music. Whichever it is.. Isn't it nice to be remembered?"
A light escapes the window of the theatre next to your orphanage. You had watched night after night people disappear. You wondered when they left because when the clock struck ten you were snuck into the realm of dreams.
Your dreams were often repetitive. The object of your fascination played piano as you watched. Sometimes He'd look up at you and smile others he wouldn't note your existence.
Morning comes, there is tremor in your bones and unknown excitement.
Hurry up the matron says. Its a picnic day at the orphanage. More like an opportunity for reporters to boost ego of the rich man who owns the place. You aren't particularly fond of it.
You escape the crowd the matron barely pays attention to you among the others. You take full advantage of it now beyond the age to ask for attention or affection, both things are a luxury for you.
A tent attracts your attention and before you know it you step inside.
Inside you find a being, man or angel, beautiful or terrifying you cannot explain except your heart races at the site of him.
"Choose." He says laying cards infront of you.
"I'm sorry I don't have any money." You inform him.
" I didn't ask for a payment. Your wish will be your payment. I asked you to choose."
You pick a random card eager to escape.
"Ah but you can not change your destiny." He exclaims.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Ah but I can." He says playing with the card and turning towards the hundreds of strange souvenirs. He picks one a broken piano key and hands it to you.
"Now leave." He says startling you.
You go out and don't look back. Had you, you wouldn't have found the tent and maybe you would have seen the car coming at you at full speed.
Madness and screaming is the last song you hear of your world.
You wake up at the hospital to the manifestation of an emptiness that had always haunted you.
You learn you're deaf now. The world has robbed you of everything, you wonder why it kept you alive.
The days at the hospital are dull, going to the orphanage even worse. Strangely the piano key follows you religiously no matter how many times you discard it. In the end you keep it close.
When you thing all hope is lost a kind gentleman adopts you. He needs a person to take care of his store.
"Why me?"
"You remind me of my late wife."
It's a relief you suppose. You were going to be thrown out of the orphanage anyway.
Years pass as you accomodate to your new life. Maybe you cannot hear things and maybe you speak less but on nights where there is wind I'm your hair and magic in the air you still feel alive.
On one of such nights where you sweep the steps infront of the shops door he comes. Hair bleached, eyes sharp. The streetlights make him glow. You can sense his melancholy before you can read his lips.
"We are closing."
"Please."
He is a man looking for an escape so you grant him.
You put on the kettle to make tea. You offer him one.
Words are no longer spoken and silence is not deafening. There is something about him that makes you want to sway.
He comes again. And again. And again.
You greet him with a retail smile that seems to be turning genuine by the passing time and sometimes a cup of tea.
One day you see him outside and the dream of a midnight Prince seems broken. His hair is black and he looks younger today. Maybe it's the sun. You are about to cross the road when you're pulled back.
He realises you can't hear then. You confess when he screams at you and you don't blink.
He doesn't come for a fortnight. You wait till the clock strikes 11 and then sleep comes.
After full 15 days you find an invitation. A pretty mail addressed to you.
It lies at the back of your locker. Until you know longer ignore it.
Despite everything you dress for the occasion. Spending your week's paycheck on it.
You walk the quiet corridor of the huge building. A wait staff meets you and guides you to the seat.
You wait for him. The curtains lift to reveal him. You feel the music. You can't hear it but you feel the vibrations and it brings you to tears. You wonder how beautiful his music must have been though it doesn't compare to his face surely.
The thrums of magic enchant you or maybe it's the warmth of his hands as he holds yours.
You have learned the nuances of your lover. How he likes his food, how he hates people, how he's soft and hard and never changing and steady and moody and pouty.
He makes you laugh.
You have never thought you could ever laugh so much. It's almost foreboding.
You cook together, sleep together, breathe together. You are no longer different. Where his breath start and yours end, where your life starts and his ends is same as waves I the ocean.
There's a joy that radiates out of you like never before because now you have one thing you never did a house with person of love.
If you think love you think him. Your stranger. Your owner.
You dance to somedays to the magic of his fingers in front of the fireplace on cold nights with bare feet because now you're warm from the inside cold cannot touch you.
You can see love spill from his eyes even on the nights he turns back into a stranger. He likes to color his hair. From Ash to fire to coal and all over again and sometimes even new colours.
You don't ask what he does. He's your home and maybe it's built over someone's grave but it's still your home.
Slowly cracks appear.
Small. Big. Devastating.
Afterall how long can a house built upon bones last.
Hope comes in the form of hearing. You listen to the lovely voice as your fingertips touch the prominence of Adam's apple on your husbands throat.
Your husband stops playing music infront of you at first you don't notice. But as your anniversary comes and passes you are made aware. As he shushes you out of his work room wherein many nights you played his keys.
You are hurt until you watch the manifestation of horror. In a dream you watch your husband elicit souls of the living. His melody is both haunting and soft. Of love and pain and happiness and heartbreak.
Your eyes connect and once again you hear shouting as you lay awake in your bed.
Yoongi looks out of breath as he barges into your shared bedroom and is in tears when he sees you.
His behaviour startles you in the many summers and winters you've seen a lot of him but never once have you seen him cry.
You cradle him but never ask what scares your husband.
That night he confesses perhaps in the weakness.
"Not you. Not you too. I can't live. I can't die."
"Yoongi." You take his name calling him to you to escape whatever is that nightmare that consumes him.
Soon enough it is to be your nightmare too.
"They listen and driven wild. My music is my curse. The only thing I've lived for the only thing that keeps me alive.. but if you hear it- it will drive you wild."
Seasons change the night seems buried until out of some ungodly curse you find yourself wanting to hear it. That lovely music.
However I should warn you when you finally do listen it is unintentional.
You cannot sleep and wake up to find a cold bed so you go to your husband and he plays and you want to move but are moved instead.
Abruptly it stops.
For the first time your husband screams at you.
You don't talk to each other for a while. Then the pains start. You forget things. You hear voices.
In the middle of this breakdowns your husband finds you.
A string of apologies leaves his mouth and he cries for the third time.
"Let it.. let it kill me consume me.if Loving you is madness then leave me wild. If its forgetting myself then let me reader you and if it's drowning in my sorrow for you then let me go." You tell him one day when the pain is too much.
He sits down to play.
It's a song about his first love. The love that has brought his ruin.
That's the night you die and the third time Min Yoongi cries for you.
In another life you meet again a smile on his lips as he plays guitar and you twirl round under the fairy lights and your sixteen. Then your twenty. Again when your thirty two and when you'll be fifty and even at eighty.
This time dancing for him, with him and listening to him is your happy everyday.
A Min Yoongi of yesterday is glad he's forgotten.
