"At night when the stars light up my room, I sit by myself, Talking to the Moon."
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Lee (Y/N) ─ a college student majoring in the performing arts, more particularly ballet. Reserved, sensitive, and your stereotypical loner, she's not one to talk ─ t...
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"Highest self?" you let out, tears that once brimmed you eyes finding their way out. 'No.. This entire month — it has to of been a dream. He's not real, surely.' "What.. What does that supposed to mean- I-"
"You know exactly what it means," Yoongi utters with hands clutched onto your upper arms. You look away, fearful that if you stare into his eyes any longer, you'll fall even deeper. "And so do I."
"Yoongi, this.." You chuckle dryly, stomach empty and head running around in circles. It seems as if every time you speak, the world goes numb — silent. "This wasn't supposed to be how my college years went- I.. was never meant to meet the moon — this is all just one big dream."
Yoongi is silent as your eyes flicker downwards, your vision growing even more blurry by the second. "Has to be.."
"(Y/—"
"It wasn't mean to happen," you say abruptly, a flash of hurt sprawling across Yoongi's face. It fades, and he takes the gentle approach.
"But it was," he whispers, and you clutch onto his shirt even tighter. He looks away in thought, chewing on his lips as he comes to a conclusion. "That must've been why.. Why I craved to come here- with you. But what's the purpose? Other than you being my reflection, what is the reason for all of this?"
Carefully, as though afraid you'd break, he cusps your chin with a wispy hand. You stare up at those pale blue eyes, his freckles gleaming their usual tone. You gulp as his eyes grow half-lidded.
He leans in, and your eyes widen at the timing in confusion. Your vision darts back and forth from his plump lips to his ghostly eyes, heart thumping against your chest. Unsure as to why you even did it, you shut your eyes, allowing him to take you.
Your lips meet, and instead of a docile, soft kiss, his mouth moves passionately and almost roughly against yours. Hands flying up to cup the back of his head, you kiss back as if entranced by his movements.
Moaning quietly, you press your body against his, his hand tugging on your shirt on your lower back. Your hand finds itself gliding across his pale soft cheek, colored a lavish scarlet. Gradually, you depart, and with delicate breaths, you look at him.
"You know what? I don't even care," he says, and still too much in a daze to question him internally, you try to catch your breath as your eyes glance to his now swollen red lips. "I don't care about the why. You are enough."
Completely forgetting about any heavy emotions, your heart soars to the heavens. Such a simple sentence ignites fireworks in your being — his touch that of a siren's rapturous song. He makes you forget so easily.
"This is real," he says strongly, hand going to hold yours. "So real that I can do that."
Knowingly, your reddened face depends it's shade and your words are caught in your throat. Your head empty as you just listen.
