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Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime...
Let me lead you from you're solitude...
Say you want me with you here, beside you...
Anywhere, you go, let me go too...
Love me, that's all I ask of you.
“Jimin he is helping me.”
“No he is not Taehyung. You haven’t even seen his face!”
“I don’t have to Jimin. His voice is enough for me.”
This isn't the first quarrel between the baritone and the ballerino, and it certainly won't be the last.
It has been months since Taehyung first heard the voice. His voice. His Angel of Music, as he’d like to call him.
Taehyung has been apart of Seoul’s very own prestigious opera company ever since he was a child. His parents carried the legacy of this company on their backs before they died, and in the midst of being surrounded by the opera, Taehyung only dreamed of following in his parents footsteps.
The company would be touring all over France in the coming year and upon their leading man mysteriously just vanishing into thin air, a voice had been speaking to Taehyung from beyond his mirror, whispering praises and coaching him into becoming a better singer.
The Angel of Music had told Taehyung that he should prepare soon, that he was born to be the leading player in the Opera.
And he was right.
“Our leading player is Suho hyung. I will never be good enough to take his place.”
“Something tells me that your Suho hyung won’t be apart of the company for that much longer.”
Taehyung didn’t think anything of it then but, now? God, he hopes his suspicions are far from the truth.
“I hear you talking to him, at night Taehyung. You are lucky the other dancers have rooms away from yours.” Jimin says forebodingly before he interlocks his and Taehyung’s hands. “Tae-ah, please just… be careful. This ‘angel of music’ of yours could be very dangerous.”
Taehyung scoffs, snatching his hands away from those of his closest and dearest friend. “This is coming from the lead dancer of our company, someone who already has it all! Hyung is helping me to become a better singer. It is because of him that I have gotten this far. He is doing this to help me.”
Jimin looks as if he is on the verge of tears. “Taehyung―”
“Park Jimin.” The dancer himself gasps, turning to face Kang Seulgi, the ballet teacher who, is standing angrily in the doorway. “Come back to the stage. I am tired of you playing around. We must continue on with rehearsal.” She chides, eyeing Taehyung suspiciously before stalking away, her black dress crackling in the distance.
Jimin sighs. “I didn’t know that me being a lead dancer offended you so much. I never meant to boast or brag about my position in the company.” Taehyung’s lips pull downward, guilt seeping into his bloodstream and making him feel sick.
“Jiminie―”
“I have to go. I hope the vocal lessons with your angel of music go well Taehyung.”
Jimin scampers away, his ballet shoes barely making a sound. Taehyung sighs, eyes welling with tears as he turns back to his mirror, powdering his makeup onto his tan cheeks. His hand drops, ultimately giving up as his heart sinks in regret.
“Angel-hyung, please speak to me. I really need you now, more than ever.”
The room is silent, save for Taehyung’s quiet weeping. He swallows down his cries as he rubs at his eyes, ready to succumb to his sadness.
The candlelights flicker. Taehyung's breath hitches, jumping out of his skin as he looks around the room. He squints into the mirror.
“My Angel? Are you there? My Angel please speak to me. I need you.”
Taehyung yelps as the vase of flowers behind him falls to the ground, shattering to pieces.
“Angel.”
“Taehyung? My lark why are you crying?” The Angel asks. His voice is deep and yet, soft, like a velvet cloak that wraps around Taehyung’s form, keeping him warm and safe.
“Hyung this was a mistake. I wish Suho had never left us. I wish―”
“Do not say things that you do not mean my dove. You deserved that role. You always have and you always will.”
Taehyung wipes at his tears. “Your words may be sweet, and yes I may be successful now, because of your help of course, but I can not do this on my own. I should have just played my part and―”
“Taehyung, you’ve said that you have always wanted to meet me, right?” The Angel asks. Taehyung's lips clamp tight.
“You... what? I can see you?”
The voice chuckles. “Yes, I have told you before, I am no angel.”
Taehyung giggles, his chiseled cheeks pink with delight and something else that he can not name.
Even though he has not seen his Angel’s face, he knows it is just as beautiful as his voice, maybe even more.
“I… yes, I’ve always wanted to see you. I just know you are so much more than I could ever imagine.”
The voice seems to almost sputter.
“No one is as beautiful as you, Taehyung-ah.” The singer blushes, running a hand through his long oak brown locks.
“Please my Angel, let me see you… I will never doubt my abilities again if you let me see you, even if only for a moment!” Taehyung pleads. Taehyung can hear the voice sigh, but he can also hear the smile in his breath.
How will his angel look? Is his hair light? Or dark? The sensual Daegu is clearly threaded into his gravelly tone. Is he from there? He knows so much about music, does he sing too? Does he play?
Does he feel the same about him that he feels about Taehyung?
Taehyung knows it is proposterous, to fall in love with the sound of someone’s voice, no, to fall in love with someone, from only having heard their voice. But he doesn’t care.
He loves his angel anyway.
“Okay Taehyung… place your hand upon the mirror, and close your eyes.”
Taehyung does just that, placing a soft hand upon the mirror before him and closing his eyes. The world seems to spin, a whirlwind of air swirling around his being, making him shiver. The glass beneath his hand seems to fall beneath the light weight that he places upon it. The baritone's lashes flutter against the cool breeze that grazes his features. Even so, he keeps his eyes shut tight, never having the courage nor the want to disobey his Angel.
The glowing light within his dressing room is long gone, replaced with a cool, crisp ray of moonlight that makes Taehyung shiver at the drastic change.
An organ plays.
Haunted and dreadful sounding yet, all the more beautiful, the chimes and harmonies of the organ infect Taehyung from the inside out, cradling his heart and igniting a fire in his soul.
He wants to open his eyes, he truly, truly does.
But his Angel told him not to.
"My Angel, please, may I open my eyes? Will you let me see you?"
An icy breeze bursts with Taehyung, the cold followed by a soft warmth that encompasses all of his sides. The clicking of shoes can be heard against the pavement, Taehyung’s heart stuttering as his fingers tremble by his sides. He clenches his fists, struggling to contain his nervous excitement.
”Angel?”
”Taehyung... you... you may open your eyes now.”
The ends of his Angel’s words are rushed, ramped as if he doesn’t actually want Taehyung to open his eyes.
But Taehyung has waited for far too long.
The baritone opens his eyes, his vision cloudy, the fog in sight beginning to part.
In front of him is a hauntingly beautiful man, a black cloak adorning him and keeping him in the dark.
Taehyung sees the pale skin first, a pretty cat shaped eye, as well as a round button nose and a pouted set of lips hidden behind…
White. A flash of white sears the man’s features.
It’s a mask.
But all too soon, the masked man turns away, a ghost in the night as he seems to float back to the organ. Taehyung gives into the illusion of the cloak, his Angel truly an angel in flight, the wings? His cloak.
Taehyung follows quickly after.
“Angel? Angel you’re—”
“Don’t Taehyung. This was a mistake. I’m taking you back—”
“No please.”
Taehyung cries, grabbing ahold of the Angel’s wrist and bringing the man to a screeching halt.
The man in the mask looks up, a gleaming, charcoal colored eye wide.
Taehyung’s heart is struck.
“You… You’re… Angel you’re so beautiful… So much more beautiful than I could have ever imagined you’d be.” Taehyung sputters, his heart so full at the sight of the man he’s been dying to meet in person. His Angel’s hand is cold, but Taehyung wants to warm him up.
“Angel.” Taehyung takes a step closer, his eyes scanning over every minuscule feature of the man he loves.
The Angel’s hair is dark and parted neatly to the left, the color of a raven’s wings. His lashes are long and feathery, his onyx eye sparkling bright. His cheek is devoid of any color despite the blossom of pink atop the apple of his cheeks. His lips are plump, chapped it seems, like his face has never seen the sun.
The other half of his face is covered by a white mask, one that has intricate designs of hangul.
Taehyung’s hand mindlessly drifts to the obstruction.
The Angel snatched his hand away, the shine in his eyes dull and sad.
“Don’t Taehyung… It… I don’t want you to see that.” The man says vaguely. He stalks away, his body seeming out of place as he tries to figure out what to do with his pupil.
Taehyung slowly follows.
“Angel I… well, I always knew you were real. I knew it.” Taehyung nearly cheers, his eyes crinkling in delight as he places his hands against the organ to steady himself.
The Angel huffs.
“We were never supposed to meet but, it seemed like fate had other plans for us.”
Taehyung’s beaming smile dips low, his expression a clean slate of, acceptance.
Us, his Angel said. He likes the sound of that.
“You must have a name, right Angel? As much as I love calling you that because… you are. You’re my angel you’ve saved me.”
“You give me too much credit.” The angel interjects sharply, his words gritted but his tone, as soft as satin.
Taehyung needs to hear him speak more.
“I give you the credit you deserve. It’s because of you I can get to live my dreams, to live the life I’ve always wanted.”
“Taehyung—”
“Tell me your name, please. Please my angel, tell me you’re name.” The baritone begs, his voice of pleading worn out and tired.
His Angel swallows thickly, the man wandering over to a tall bookshelf that Taehyung had never noticed before. The pads of his pale fingers skim the spines of ancient literature, letter by letter.
“Yoongi.”
Taehyung’s breath is stolen from his lungs.
“Min, Yoongi.” His Angel- no, Yoongi, clarifies.
Taehyung’s heart sings.
“Yoongi…”
“Hyung. I am older.” Yoongi states softly. Taehyung giggles freely, the sounds that trickle from his lips pouring into the air and affecting his Angel in a way that he can’t see.
“Yoongi-hyung, my beautiful, beautiful hyung.” Taehyung damn near coos, his chest all fuzzy and full of light. The fire within him, the one burning in his soul, is like a magnet, pulling him towards his Angel with a fierce tenacity. The masked man is astonished to say the least, clearly not expecting such a reaction from his pupil with the way that his body folds in on itself.
He sits, the adjacent contraption of a piano glistening in the moonlight.
"We don't have much time before your performance. Sit."
Taehyung obeys, like he always does. His Angel's words are like a symphony, the man himself, the conductor. His Angel, Yoongi rather, has only ever told him things with Taehyung's best interest at heart. He would be foolish to not listen now.
The Angel of Music has already gotten him so far.
Yoongi's fingers are like droplets, trickling down on the keys bringing forth a sound of what Taehyung sees as rain.
"You said, that if I showed you my face, that you would never doubt yourself again, is that still true?"
Taehyung nods feverishly, his heart lodged deep in his throat. "Yes."
The corner of Yoongi's lips that Taehyung can see squeeze tightly, forming a thin line of indifference.
"Good, then I shall take you back."
Taehyung frowns, a chord of anger now struck by his Angel's words.
"But, but Angel—”
"No Taehyung. I have showed you my face. You must go—”
"But you haven't." Taehyung shouts, his voice already raw and grated from trying to hold back his tears. Yoongi growls.
"You're going to damage your voice with all of that screaming—”
"Yoongi." Taehyung bites, knowing very well that he is crossing a line that he mustn't but, he is angry, so very angry at Yoongi for hiding from him for so long.
For hiding his beautiful face.
The Angel of Music is appalled by his pupil's change in tone, having never been spoken to with such disrespect. Taehyung's tan face is shaded red, rage ripping through his being as he lets the tears fall.
"You haven't let me see your face. You wear a mask hyung, you lied to me."
Yoongi expression creases with worry, the quick churning of his stomach now making him dizzy. "I... My dove, I never meant to lie to you."
Taehyung sniffles. "But you did. You have. I ask nothing of you but to see you, to see you. Why can't you show me—”
"Because you'll hate me Taehyung."
Yoongi's scream chills Taehyung to the bone, his own beating heart now ice cold.
His Angel... cries.
"I wear this mask to hide... to hide what scares people, what sickens them..." Yoongi clears his throat, a feeble attempt to cage back in his wild emotions.
"Taehyung if I show you my face you will wish to never speak with me again and I can't have that because... because—”
"Because you love me." Taehyung completes. Taehyung completes his Angel, they complete each other.
They always have.
Taehyung takes a few, cautious steps forward, his entire body shaking with a sense of hope that has him fueled with energy.
"Let me show you that's not true hyung... Let me..." Taehyung pleads, his voice cracking in all of the right places. He stops, right in front of Yoongi, his hand slowly raising, grazing the sculpture that is his mask. Yoongi seems to flinch, his eyes stung with tears as his hands tremble at his sides.
"Taehyung—”
"Hyung—”
The mask is gone.
In it's place, a bulge of marred, discolored flesh that has Taehyung backing away, the pristine, mask of ivory falling to the floor.
His Angel's eye is scarred over, shut tight, the skin there tainted and blemished to the point of no return. Reds and yellows and purples discolor random splotches of tissue, the patches of raven colored hair now burned, forbidden to grow.
Yoongi cries.
"I... I-I told you. My dove why don't you listen to me, why don't you—”
His Angel's speech comes to a screeching halt, the unspoken words buried deep in between Taehyung's lips. The baritone clamps his hands tight against Yoongi's face, drinking him in as he parts his lips, the kiss saccharine and everything that Taehyung could want and more.
So much more.
Taehyung breaks the kiss, his Angel's face still in the palms of his hands. Their tears have mingled, their faces wet with dew and mist and desire.
"You are so beautiful." Taehyung whispers before kissing Yoongi again, only this time, the kiss is much harsher, passionate. Yoongi allows his eyes to fall shut, their tongues lapping as he is pulled down, forced against the piano and kissed until his lips turn a blood red.
Taehyung takes this chance to bite the Angel's bottom lip, gasping into the ravenous kiss as Yoongi scratches at his costume of white satin. He should probably give a damn.
He doesn't.
It is Yoongi that breaks the kiss apart this time, his already plumped lips now swollen and glossed over with lust.
"My dove..." He breathes. Taehyung giggles into the kiss, his lips a buzz, his heart aflame.
"My Angel."
It's no surprise that Taehyung is now a legend of the opera when he has the Phantom by his side.