Seven fallen angels incapable of falling in love. One girl that can keep them from spiraling into darkness.
Used to waiting on others to make a decision, Grey is a waitress at a high-end cafe. That is, until she finds herself lured into a parallel...
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Grey cradled a bowl of strawberries, plopping them in her mouth one by one as she explored the grand halls. Today, she'd found a new nook to explore near the men's suites and since Jin was busy handling whatever he needed to and she couldn't look Jungkook in the eye, she decided to get lost. She had been walking for a few minutes when she detected a tiny noise around one of the cavernous corners. These noises repeated in sequence, forming a cadence that danced atop her curious mind.
She followed the sound. It was light and soft. Like the snowflakes that fell on the tip of the tongue or the feeling that accompanied being curled up in a blanket made of fine fur. It reminded Grey of a cold yet warm nuance. A winter wind that contained hints of spring; the trees were beginning to thaw and the promise of growth lingered on the horizon. It was like someone opened a window and allowed just a little bit of light and fresh air to seep through.
His song had changed since she last heard it.
Grey came to an archway covered by curtains. She used a hand to pull them back, silencing her breath as she found Min Yoongi bent over a white Steinway, his fingers playing the keys gently. Lulling his music to life with a lullaby rather than beating the notes out like he did a few months ago.
He wore a red tee shirt. It was the first time she'd seen him in a color other than black. Against the shadows of the room, cast primarily by the megastorm lingering outside the series of patio doors, he resembled an apple; the first fruit of spring. The tall ceiling reflected his sounds, the entire room pulsing with his melody.
Here, at long last, he blossomed.
She padded over to his bench, sitting quietly on the edge. He drew his hand from the piano as soon as he noticed her.
"No, don't do that," she said. "You were playing beautifully."
Grey waited for a snarky remark. Yoongi said, "You like it?"
She nodded, plopping a sweet strawberry into her mouth.
"I wrote it for you," he said.
She stopped chewing. "For me?"
"I call it A Princess of Spring."
Princess because that was what he called her. But why spring?
She put her bowl on the floor, not wanting to ruin the beautiful white paint of the instrument. "Yoongi, I'm honored. Can I ask why you picked that season in particular?"
"You breathe life into everything around you." Yoongi pressed the keys again, playing a few notes that would not overpower his voice. "I didn't want you to, but you won. You broke through my walls."
She'd never been told that before. Her impact was visible. Yoongi was handsome in red. He may be part of the undead or undefined, but he looked alive. Dare she say it, pleased.
