yeux de chat / namgi

II. Leave all your tears by your bedside, and let's live a night

succeed for him.

they died for nothing if you do not succeed.

are you a failure, yoongi min?

are you worthy of that name: yoongi min?'

yoongi jumped up slightly, like a frightened kitten. many people compared him to a cat, something he never quite got but welcomed anyways, always wanting to be liked by others. he let himself be pulled from his thoughts as the sound of steady breathing turned into confused mumbles.

"go back to bed, jewbs, im sorry," yoongi said, just above a whisper.

he sighed and got up, hovering over his old friend. though he knew namjoon longer than he had ever known anyone. but namjoon kim was not a friend and the piano was not an enemy. the piano gave him comfort within the pearlescant memories of the two people he loved most, all that namjoon kim did was frustrate the poor boy.

"what were you playing?..." namjoon croaked, his voice full of sleep and his soul covered in mossy clouds. his lungs held deep forests full of towering trees that killed namjoon to be kept alive.

yoongi thought about the question, "i don't know, jewbs." his reply was made of soft snow and laced with harsh icecicles. his heart frosted over to the point where the boy's face turned just as pale.

"mm.." yoongi heard shuffling and a yawn, "did your mother used to play it?"

"yeah... yeah, joon, she did," yoongi felt a smile lie down into his lips.

"your mother was lovely.."

"yeah," yoongi whimpered, "yeah, namjoon, she was."

"keep playing if you wanna... 's nice." yoongi couldn't see it but he knew there was a smile sleeping kindly on namjoon's lips, he gave a slight chuckle and sat back down on the stool, realising now that he couldn't see a thing in the room. he hadn't ever been able to see the keys or the piano or the moonlight, there was no window in this room.

how many times had he played this piece?

or, for lack of better words, was he going fucking mental?

💌

yoongi awoke the next morning to an empty house, just like how he did everyday, his room engulfed in an onyx blanket as he listened to namjoon snore through his earphones. he cut off the call and texted for namjoon to wake up, walking to the bathroom as he did so. boring. just so boring. he did his business, brushed his teeth, took a shower, avoided breakfast, got dressed and sat on his bed with too much time to spare. he wanted something. anything.

with hope that what he thought might have happened did not happen he grabbed his phone, immediately going to snapchat and to his school's groupchats. his hope was shortlived. all of the coversations, all of the stories were the same. on whatsapp, an identical fate. his foot tapped nervously and rapidly against the floor, rabbit-like. he cursed whilst an epiphany came to him and thanked a god he didn't even believe in. he sighed and let his head hang between his legs, his arms clasped together in front of him.

nyumnyums
u still want ur scarf back?

more guilt ran through yoongi. no he didn't want the scarf back, he knew namjoon didn't have a coat or even anything to keep him warm. which angered him, knowing his family's financial state, namjoon didn't however.

gullible little shit, god i hate that june bitch.

angry kitten
nah keep it jewbs