He once told me about his love for lyrics.
How the words spoke to him like a poetry.

I pressed my lips together, hands neatly placed on my knees, eyes roaming the dark walls of his recording studio. His brows were scrunch together as half of his face were illuminated by a small light that had managed to seep through his window, making up such a wonderful and breathtaking sight for me to see as I sat on his couch and took advantage at the privilege to see such magnificent beauty.

Everything was set perfectly— the smile etched on my face and the living masterpiece in front of me. The only thing out of place was the music playing in the background which somehow brought distraught and sadness over me.

I would often wonder about his playlist and the ghost who lived there. The faces he saw and the voices he heard. The soundtrack to a thousand tragic endings, real or imagined.

"Why do you always play sad song, hyung?" I asked, breaking the perfect silence as he stopped scribbling on his notes and turned to face me, his face void of emotions yet his eyes screamed of so many things. He was silent, his finger tapped against his desk simultaneously as the once beautiful atmosphere turned into nothing but pure awkwardness.

I could feel the fast beating of my heart as I await for his answer which felt like years with every single second that passes, growing more and more impatient as finally, he answered.

"Why the hell not?"

The first time I saw him, I noticed how haunted his eyes were. And I was drawn to him, in the way a melody draws a crowd to the dance floor. Pulled by invisible strings.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to anger you." I quickly apologized, bowing my head as I look down on my feet, seeming to find it much more interesting that to see an angry Yoongi— he hated disturbance after all.

Without another word, he turned back on his notes, working his way as he completely ignored me, stucked in utmost devotion for his song whilst I sat there, stuck staring at him. My heart would flutter from time to time just by how adorable he is as he still and ever remained silent, blocking me out of his world.

Now I wonder if I am one of the ghosts— if I am somewhere, drifting between those notes. I hope I am. I hope whenever my song plays, I am there, whispering in his ear.

and the way his eyes surrendered, gave the answer away.

A sigh escaped from his lips, gentling throwing his pen on the side before standing up on his feet, eyes meeting mine as he walked until he reached me. He didn't say a word nor made any move, but as I looked up in his eyes, I knew.

that I am in every ghost of the song he plays— in every piece of the notes he scribbles down on his notebook, the every sound of his drumpad and the every beat of his heart.

And the way he tipped my chin just proved of how right I was, enough to send me off to cloud nine, losing myself in the large sea in his eyes. He sealed his words with a kiss, tenderly and passionately against mine as sparks roamed my every being— his hand on the small of my back as he pulled me closer, exploring every inch and every corner of my cavern but with a tinge of love and care in it.

We broke the kiss, hidden smiles playing in the corner of one's lips, and I took it as a chance to ask again. "Why do you always play sad songs, hyung?"

He was silent, tracing circles on my back before he leaned in to kiss the crown of me head, pulling me until he was snuggles close to my neck as electricity passed all over my body, running through my veins as his breath fanned the side of my neck.

so with my heart beating ever so loudly and my insides churned, he whispered

"— because the thought of losing you always comes to mind."