"Even when a star dies, it gives birth to another one. It's mere existence is life and growth. One day I wish to be as infinite as the stars. To exist forever, if at least in their hearts."
When you left, you were not looking for a savior.
When he...
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Taehyung didn't mean to fall asleep.
When RM mentioned he was working on a new demo during practice today, he just had to listen to it. Namjoon, however, being the perfectionist he is, told Tae he couldn't listen in just yet. There was a certain point in the sound that he wasn't confident and still had to fix. Taehyung dropped it (after multiple moments of begging and pleading) and tried to forget about it for the rest of the day.
However, what with you showing up at the studio and his incessant curiosity, he just had to hear Namjoons song. It was like dangling a piece of bacon in front of a dog's nose, he just had to have a taste.
He planned to sneak in, sneak out, and have nobody know the wiser. Of course, like so many things, this did not go according to plan.
Unbeknownst to him, he entered the studio a few moments after you and RM hurried out of there, from the opposite side.
He listened to the song, before trying to find what RM could have possibly thought was bad about it.
Soon enough, the beautiful track had lulled him into a peaceful slumber.
Now, his head rests on his shoulder, as he slumps in the chair.
His face is slack, peaceful, his eyes fluttering as he dreams sweet dreams. His long eyelashes cast dark shadows over his cheeks, his hair fluttering with each breath. Thick and soft despite the natural curl that occurred after dancing for so long. He still has the slick shine that sweat leaves behind, turning his pure skin smooth and glowing.
He looks so beautiful, almost as perfect as the strokes an artist may create in a portrait.
When you enter the studio, having just finished cleaning Mon Studio, he is in the same state.
He utters a soft snore, but not one you'd be able to hear from behind glass. This time, you entered on the recording side.
You look around, awestruck once more by the beauty the room provides to your curious and hungry eyes.
Letting the door close in a small crack behind you, you set down your satchel, quickly cleaning up whatever trash you can find in the room. As you scan the instruments, you find that they are all fairly new, not even requiring a shiny new polish. Nevertheless, you grab a cloth sitting on a stool near the door and begin to carefully clean every instrument.
As you touch each one, the movement is a soft, caressing one. One that reminds you of the way your mother would use to run her hand through your hair as she brushed it each night.
You smile at the memory, realizing just how much you miss her, just how much her presence filled the holes in your heart.
Suddenly realizing how silent it is in the room, you set down the rag for a moment before turning and pulling out your phone. Pulling up your playlist, you press play, filling the world with music. As it turns it brighter, dancing with vibrant colors, you lean your head back and smile. After a moment, you turn back to your work, humming softly to yourself without even realizing it.
