EDEN | Yoonmin

two

two

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YOONGI HASN'T BEEN HOME IN ALMOST A YEAR. Eden looked like a strange, foreign place to him as he wandered up the stone stairway to the front door. He'd done his best to keep the house in good condition, but weather was a worthy opponent and had taken a beating to the stones that rested in front of his home. The house loomed over him, tall and proud. It was outdated for the time period, a classic example of Victorian-Gothic Namjoon would say. He was right, it was a classic example, and well preserved too. Not like the other houses in the surrounding area that were chipped, uninhabited and falling apart with each passing year. Eden was hidden away in the woods, deep into the forest that only the brave managed to make it as far as his gate. It was an introvert's dream, perfect for Yoongi as he had always liked his privacy. His home was his sanctuary, or so it used to be.

It was a stranger to him now.

Eden. It was almost ironic that he should name his home that. Eden supposedly meant someplace peaceful, delightful, a paradise if you will, and Yoongi certainly saw it that when in the early years. He could spend hours upon hours in the comfort of his home, not once being bothered to step outside and join the real world. He felt no need to. His home was suffocating, he wasn't dying to leave it. Eden was supposed to be a safe place for Yoongi, but it only brought him pain whenever he returned. How was a place that was designed to be a place of serenity and peace supposed comfort for him when all it did was remind Yoongi of him. God there were days where Yoongi couldn't go anywhere in the house without being reminded of him.

Sometimes it was an object - so random and miniscule - that triggered a memory, and suddenly he was looking at it with fondness. "How can you love that thing, it's hideous!"
          "Oh Yoongi, stop it! It gives the place character!"
Yoongi didn't see what he saw, but he didn't dare get rid of it. He didn't want to upset the younger in any way, and now that several years had gone by, he kept it. Getting rid of it meant getting rid of him, and he still wasn't ready to let go.

Everywhere he went, his scent lingered, the sickening smell of seafoam and lavender that drove him wild. It was quite literally, everywhere in the house. "Mon Coeur, you smell so heavenly right now, it's intoxicating. I'm dizzy just at how good you smell. Do you see what you do to me? It's not a bad thing my love, no no, I love it, I crave you,"

Yoongi dared not to enter the library if he could help himself. He kept all his books separate should he want to read. He could still hear his voice coming from inside the room, reciting poems, quotes or plays he enjoyed. "Every revolution starts and ends with his lips,"
         "What am I to you, he asks/I put my hands in his lap/And whisper, you/Are every hope/I've ever had/In human form,"
Other times he sang, and Yoongi would lean against the doorframe and listen to him. No longer was the house filled by the sweet melodic sounds of his voice. Oh how he missed those sweet, sweet melodies that tumbled from his sweet, sweet lips.

He wouldn't enter the bedroom he'd given him. Not unless he was craving the memory he'd left behind, felt the need to be closer to him and even then, it was too much for him. It was too painful to lie in the silk sheets, tangled up in his scent that still lingered in the fabric. Too painful for him when he could remember the intimate moments they shared together in this room. "Mom Coeur, let me hear you. It's just you and I,"
         "Oh god! D-Don't stop, Yoongi, keep going, just like that. I can feel you, you're so deep,"
        "You're such a good boy for me, taking everything I give you. My precious little human, that's it baby, moan for me,"
He shuddered in pleasure and in sadness knowing that could never be. It wouldn't be the same. He'd tried to move on, tried to see others, and while there were one or two that he kept around, they weren't him. They never would be, and he had to accept that he was destined to remain alone for the rest of his life. He'd lost his lover - the only man he desired to be with other than sexually. There was nobody out there for him anymore. That person was dead.