"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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🫀
TW: use of r-slur and f-slur (censored)
two lovers entwined.. pass me by, and heaven knows i'm miserable now.
yoongi was smiling at his phone as he walked, he hadn't stopped talking to namjoon since he got off the phone with the boy's father. he couldn't find a valid reason as to why he should. why should anyone ever stop talking to The namjoon kim?
the boy couldn't help but reminisce on the time he had spent with namjoon, couldn't help but find a weird sort of joy in thinking of the hardships he had been through and yet prevailed.
would he be where he was if not for namjoon kim? dead? he couldn't shake the fact that it was a possibility. namjoon got him away from his murderer, deadbeat, barely-human man of an uncle. namjoon gave him food at the worst parts of his life. how could he ever possibly repay him?
all of this, and yet yoongi was plagued with the thought of all the times he had hurt namjoon. when he abandoned namjoon as a child and bullied him for beliefs that didn't even align with his own or his parents. when he'd annoy the boy to no end, creating stupid nicknames he knew namjoon hated, scribbling on the boy's paper at any chance, even on a few occasions spreading fake rumours about the boy just to throw namjoon off and be better than the boy and win. all of that and so much more. all of that, even before the first chapter of this story.
yoongi always thought that he needed to win. and he knew who started that belief.
yoongi smiled bright with his gums on full display, up at his disheveled uncle. the man had a harsh and itchy looking amount of stubble on his face and his eyes were sunken, not to mention his complexion was pale and cold. his shirt and trousers had clearly not been ironed, only adding to his horrible look. the tie he wore was done up sloppy and not how yoongi's father would ever do it. not that that mattered, considering the man was dead.
yoongi's uncle was silent for a moment, and yoongi stiffened up his back, trying to egg on some praise from the older man. jihu just took a quick drink of his liquor before setting the glass on the piano, looking down on the young boy.
"you best try again, yoongi. your parents would not be happy. especially not your mother, gosh.." jihu tutted, "she'd be absolutely devastated that her only son was so terrible at the piano, something she cherished so much."
if jiho min was known for something besides her culinary excellence, it would unequivocally be the woman's talent on the piano. the woman would play at every house party for the guests and every night to her son and her husband, being not so verbal with her love but using the piano as a means of communicating how much she treasured her family.
