Petals Behind Glass | Taegi

1- Magic Mirror on the Wall

Home is where the heart is forced to be.

Home is tucked deep inside the midst of an aging neighborhood, where the breeze blows only the smell of the leaves it tears from its trees, trunks rooted in a picturesque scenery of vivid greens and pale browns under a faded blue.

Home wears a wide brick terrace around its front, a red cedar roof atop its head, and sees through huge windows framed by clear white pine.

It stared silently at its newest arrival staring back with tense drowsy eyes, tight fisted hands clenching around the handle of his tiny suitcase, a shared secret gusted away inside a whistling wind.

"It's a lovely house, isn't it?" A toneless voice spoke beside him, long and thin fingers finding their way around his slugged shoulders.

Without a glance he shrugged them off. "It's 100 years old."

Countless stories of children possessed to kill their parents in little old houses just like this one coursed through his mind; the images made the corner of his lips twitch up.

"Yoongi!" A small woman burst out the door, pulling him into a warm embrace. "Oh, goyang-i, I've missed you!"

A shy smiled formed onto Yoongi's blushed cheeks at the sound of his childhood nickname. You sleep as much as a cat, I should have named you nabi when you were born!

"Oh, I'm sorry, Yoongi," she pulled away, "I know you don't like it when I call you that but I've just missed you so much!"

He held her mud stained hands in his. "It's fine, mom. I've missed you too."

His mother's smile reached her eyes. "How was your flight? Did your dad get lost on the way back from the airport?"

"I'm standing right here," his father said.

Yoongi had chosen to ignore he was.

"I can see that, yobo," his mother said, "how about you take my aegi's luggage inside instead of just standing there, hm?"

She dragged her snickering son towards the entrance, paying no mind to the frown on her husband's face as he trailed behind. "I'm so excited for you to see the new house, nabi!"

Yoongi struggled to lift the edges of his mouth, his mother's spirits too high to reach, but they opened up wide as soon as he walked through the door.

Pots, and plants, and flowers everywhere.

The living room was filled at every corner with large vases of red roses and white sunny daisies, a centerpiece of a hundred violets sitting majestically on the coffee table, and the crown molding of the high ceiling covered to the rim in the vibrant orange of his mother's favorite: tiger lilies.

Memories of a younger Yoongi helping his mother take care of her garden were projected right before his eyes; all dazzling gummy smiles, and scintillating dark eyes, and soiled round cheeks.

It looked like home.

"It's beautiful, mom."

"Oh, I'm so glad you like it, goyang-i!" She held his arm. "Your dad hasn't stopped pestering me about spending so much time in my garden."

"A house doesn't need this many flowers," his father said from the hallway, voice monotone.

Yoongi hadn't even realized he hadn't stayed in the living room with them.

"But it does need a grand piano?" Yoongi pointed at the instrument.

His father stayed quiet, striding towards his piano without giving either one of them a second look. His refined fingers graced the keys with the elegance of a ballet dancer, every twist and twirl of his hands turning into a bittersweet and enchanting melody that fluttered Yoongi's long eyelashes to a close.