"yeux de chat."
"sorry?"
"yeux de chat, cat eyes. that's what i'll call you from now on, min. you're evil and heartless. just like how people see cats."
"well... how do you see me? if you weren't roped into people?"
"well, i am a cat person so i thi...
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💌
yoongi sighed to himself a lot that night, guilt treating him as if he were an animal. he couldn't exactly tell which was more animalistic, more horrible, if it were him or the guilt. he had heard of guilt eating a person alive but he had never really experienced it first hand. secrets and lies and ground-breaking rumours were not the things that often escaped his lips, but he could feel the blood of his soul drip down from the guilt's longing jaws.
his entire body gained weight with the thought of what he did and he dragged his arms across the floor, getting some water. though he knew he didn't need to, he brought his phone with him, finding namjoon's steady breaths relaxing in a way. he eyed the piano in the sitting room as he sipped at his water
his brain felt as strange as the water he drank. why did water taste so curious late at night? there was nothing different about the water compared to the water he drank during the day. were the guilts and hardships of the day catching up to him and leaking into his drink like a poison ready to infect his bloodstream? what was so... weird about this time and its water.
he looked at the piano again, or maybe it looked at him. he listened again closely to namjoon's soft breaths, 2 seconds in, 2 and a half seconds out. the keys sang to him, lured the boy like a shark to chum. yoongi admired the glossy coat of the piano in the moonlight, finding it beautiful and omnious all at once. why? he couldn't tell you, maybe he just grew up to be afraid of the dark, afraid of the unknown and afraid of that that he couldn't control.
a breath left his lips as he sat at the stool, seeing the black and white keys infront of him. he decided to just turn his microphone down a bit rather than fully mute himself, he wasn't sure why but he felt it would be better than muting himself.
he let his fingers glide across the piano, like birds across the ocean, dipping down where they needed to and a song leaving gently. though, like the sea, as beautiful as it was, the salt still lurked. a memory crossed his vision and suddenly it was all he could see:
a young child, sitting on an aging, sick woman's lap and watching as she played a symphony he never learned the name of but grew to know each note off of the top of his head. a soft smile made its bed on the woman's face and the boy admired it before looking back at the frail fingertips.
when the child tried to see anything else he felt his head be forced back to stare at the piano. like the piano was the only important thing. that the piano was to be yoo- the young child's whole life from that moment on. was the woman aware of this? was the woman aware of the poison she let intoxicate the child's mind as she herself mindlessly played? was the woman aware of the dripping ink like words that resonated in her chi- the boy's mind, years later when she was no longer a sick and aging woman? word that spoke:
