Ca Ira | yoonmin

Eleven

He's holding a ring in his mouth.

His tongue teases with it against the inside of his cheeks, nudging the hollow circular outline, a faint metallic taste lingering. He wonders absently if it's the same ring in his memory, with an encased blue gem as brilliant as the most vibrant sky on a sun drenched day.

There's smoke all around him, thin wisps of warmth permeating his skin, smelling of pine cones and wet peat from the forest. His head is in a hazy cloud, with the ring turning languidly in his mouth.

He should be worried, shouldn't he? There's a tiny itch in his heart, gnawing restlessly, reminding him of emotions that can never be forgotten. But Yoongi pushes it aside, ignoring it for now.

There's no rush, this is fine.

Yoongi is alone and lost, yet he relaxes into the haze, soaking it up. For there's a presence around him, calm and enveloping, rounding out the sharp edges of the solitude.

Something taps on his mind suddenly, a sharp rhythmic sound that cuts through the comforting smoke.

Tap, tap, tap.

Yoongi blinks and gulps, swallowing the ring by accident. The realization startles him, so does the heaviness as the object slides down his throat and lodges somewhere deep within, becoming a part of him.

Yoongi snaps his eyes open and awakens from the dream.

The familiar faded white walls of the bedroom appear in front of him. The bed is cold, but the air in the house is refreshing, faint traces of smoke from the hearth mixed with scents of spring outside.

Dawn has already broken. Mellow daylight filter through the small window next to the bed, punctured by vibrating shadows of tree branches. Yoongi stretches and yawns, luxuriating in the rare moment of laziness.

His eyes widen when the sound from his dream starts again. Tap, tap, tap.

It's coming from outside.

Reluctantly, Yoongi pushes himself up with one hand. He rubs on his eyes, and sits up by the edge of the bed, fishing out the shoes underneath with his feet.

The bedroom door is half open, and Yoongi steps through, into the living area of the farm house. Oak pillars peek through the plastered walls, some fortified by him since moving in four years ago. Warm ember glows in the hearth in the middle of the space, with venison sausages Jungkook made hanging haphazardly above on the cross beams. Smoke rises up slowly into the loft above, giving the bags of grains stored inside a distinctive flavor that Yoongi has grown to like.

He straightens out the chairs next to the open hearth, and nudges the warming pans to the side, as the river rocks inside clack against the copper covers.

Tap, tap, tap. The noise starts again, chasing away the lingering haze from sleep, and paints a smile on his face. He continues down the house, pass the handmade pine dining table, into the workspace in the back of the house.