it filters through the house like smoke.
the sound.
before jeongguk's eyes open he hears it.
he feels the wind next.
he's bare, naked in someone's bed.
but it's freezing, disorienting.
the someone isn't next to him.
there's just that sound.
but the sound is warm.
it floats into the room, distant.
he's not sure where it comes from, only a vague idea.
a vague sound.
so he opens them.
a faint light, the moon.
the cieling, the walls, all bright.
the atmosphere dark.
up.
he moves, so the cold strikes him.
he sits, and stares, at the drapes billowing.
the balcony, the outside.
the sound seems to grow as he sees more.
he can almost see it.
but he wants to.
see it.
feet meet cold wood.
he sways, nearly touching the cold with his nose.
balance, he finds it, after he finds a shirt.
no longer bare.
the room next door, where it originates.
he leaves the wind behind, the dark night.
he follows the warmth.
the beauty.
like a magnet.
kim taehyung is like a magnet.
the moment he sees, he's drawn.
he watches.
long silver fingers.
silver because of the light from the window.
the same moon as before.
they dance.
the keys press easily, emanate warmth.
they give under his fingers.
he controls it.
the piano.
jeongguk can feel it where he's bare.
it touches him everywhere.
like the man commanding it had touched him earlier.
the fingers move over the keys, but it's like they're moving over Jeongguk.
he feels them.
spiritually, he feels them.
but also really.
he carries himself to them, and touches them.
their eyes meet.
it's silent, between them.
no voices.
just that sound.
taehyung looks surprised to see him awake.
he wants to ask.
jeongguk can tell by his eyes.
but jeongguk wants to ask too.
why this has happened more than once.
why he kisses him the way he does.
why he whispers in his ear warm things, warm like the sounds he makes.
why his fingers play his heart with the same elegance.
neither of them do.
instead, the bare one sits.
next to the clothed one.
knocks their knees together.
and then he listens.
he listens to his voice.
the way taehyung really talks, not the bullshit that comes from his mouth.
the lies.
the way he's honest.
it's honest.
the way taehyung's eyes show his thoughts.
the way he stares while he plays, but not at the thing he's speaking through.
at the thing he's playing.
and jeongguk hears it as it's spoken.
the truth.
how taehyung feels.
and it's so beautiful.
jeongguk's never heard anything as beautiful.
it leaves him breathless, and his hand doesn't move.
it curls over the fingers, the voice, and holds them, feels them move, them talk.
