Suga sat on the bench, eyes closed as his fingers trailed over the black and white keys, his broad shoulders swaying with every note that reverberated through the empty floor of the building. Some of the Bangtan recruits had hauled his piano up here personally four or five nights ago; the days had all started to run together. All Yoongi could think about was her, The way your hair smelled. The feel of your skin beneath his fingers. The noises you made when he kissed you, claimed you with fingers and tongue.
His hands passed fluidly from key to key, ankle occasionally flexing as his foot pressed down on one of the piano's pedals. The music poured out of him, unstoppable, and all he could think about was you. The way you had looked laying on his piano, biting your wrist to keep from making too much noise. The way the moonlight had illuminated your features, freezing your expression forever in his mind. Yoongi trapped his lower lip between his teeth as he pressed more forcefully on the keys, ratcheting up the tempo.
Low notes twined together, pausing as a few individual strings of a high C poured out of him, then back down into the lower scales. Yoongi rolled his tongue in his mouth, thinking back over those few precious days in the Manor. Your presence had filled the entire house, the scent of your perfume lingering in the air.
All of the Bangtan Boys felt it when you were in the house, from the greenest recruits to the most senior members to each man in the Inner Circle, himself included. It was almost physical, your presence. All of his Boys were lighter, friendlier, happier when you were there. As if wherever you walked, sunlight followed. The Boss swallowed hard, pushing all of his feelings from his heart, to his shoulders, down his arms and out through his fingers into the keys.
God, I miss her. Had it truly only been less than a week that you'd been with him? It seemed as if you had always been there. Yoongi wished he had told you how you made him feel; how he wanted to be a better man -- a better Boss -- because of you. You tamed that ruthless, restless spirit that raged and roiled deep in his guts, stroked and placated it with sweet words and a gentle touch.
The music rose to a crescendo as he imagined you sitting beside him on the bench. The fire in her... She was sweet and kind, yes, but not to a fault. She had a flame in her gut -- maybe one strong enough to match his own -- that burned so brightly it was almost blinding.
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As he played, Yoongi thought of everything Jungkook had told him; you were in some fortified abandoned place in downtown Osan, and it was nigh impregnable. But you were being moved tomorrow night. His assassin told him of Hyunjin's attempt to take her, and how her uncle had stepped in to keep her 'pure'. So she could be married. Married.
A discordant note jangled out of the piano at his thought, and Suga had to consciously take a breath, relax his shoulders, lower his head, and continue playing. The same thing. Over and over. I Need You. That's what the melody was singing, again and again. Each note, high and low, were saying your name, screaming how much the Boss missed you, begged for you to be safely back in his arms. Soon, the piano sang, Soon.
Yoongi knew when you were going to be moved. He knew where. He even knew how many people would be there to guard you.
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Suga tipped his head back as he thought, as his fingers danced across the keys.
