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Black and white - all he can see.
His fingers brush the ivory; shaking and cold, just as pale as the keys.
The sun is cruel; pouring through the window with beams of gold, shrouding the room with a false sense of light, where there really should be none.
Min Yoongi’s heart has gone cold.
I will return, he had said. They will never succeed in keeping us apart, he had promised.
Yoongi brings his fist down on the keys, the strings of the piano plucking violently, vomiting out a dissonant sound; a wail, a sob.
Like a fallen vase all his promises were broken, each and every sweet word he spoke was ripped to shreds.
Yoongi leans his head against the wood of the piano, desperately trying to swallow the pit in his throat. It has been ages since he last saw him; crying and screaming as he was dragged away by the King’s men.
He’s a witch, they had said, tying his lover’s delicate hands together with fraying rope. You should know better than to fraternize with the enemy, respectable sir, they had told him.
Sighing, Yoongi withdraws his destructive hand from the keys of the instrument. It’s truly all he has left; the piano standing against the wall in the parlor.
It was Hoseok’s favorite place in their home.
“Yoongi, why don’t you play me a song this afternoon? It is truly a lovely day, and you know I love to hear you play.”
“Of course, my love. Come sit with me.”
They settled together on the piano bench, the sun sending bright beams to color their skin gold, tinting them a healthy pink as Yoongi stole a kiss from his lover’s lips. Without any more hesitation - he would never keep such a sweet boy waiting for long - he rested his fingertips atop the white, and began to play.
The melody was pure, languidly swirling around the room, dancing with the bits of dust suspended in the sunlight.
The piano is out of tune, now. Dusted over from days without any sort of attention.
“May I try something?”
“You know I could never deny anything of you, sunshine.”
His cheeks dusted pink and his eyes shined, smile growing ever brighter as he brought his hands up to cover his lover’s, placing his fingers directly over, as if to mimic playing the instrument himself.
Like a fire catching flame, or the sun bursting over the horizon; the druid’s eyes then turned a swimming gold, glowing prettily in the sunlight. The magic swarmed his body and his hands grew hot, and suddenly, the piano was no longer a piano.
It had become a symphony.
There is no sound, when Yoongi wipes the dust off his beloved piano.
Just particles floating through the air, dancing to a silent tune. When Yoongi heaves out a sigh they run away, scared of the grieving man.
The room was suddenly filled with eight part harmony, brass and woodwinds and strings; filling the lovers ears with a graceful lilt. Yoongi let his fingers take the song over, gliding smoothly over ivory, Hoseok’s happy laughter filling in the spaces between each measure.
They played like that for hours - a waltz, a march, an opera - it was magnificent.
If only they had been more careful.
Yoongi presses the butt of his palm to his leaking eyes, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest. The pianist gingerly presses down on one of the keys, letting the note ring out with a wince.
How could he bring himself to play when his muse, his heart, was gone?
It happened much too fast for either of them to properly react. Hoseok’s hand slipped from atop Yoongi’s, his eyes instantly growing dim. Yoongi faltered, his fingers playing a mash of chords.
“Min Hoseok, you are under arrest for the illegal use of magic. Keep your hands visible, and do not resist.”
Shaking, the druid complied, rising from the piano bench. Yoongi reacted a moment too late, knocking the bench over as he stood, taking both of his lover’s hands from behind.
“You do not have sound evidence against him! As lord over this land I order you to withdraw your warrant.”
“My lord,” the knight turned to the pianist, eyes glinting in horrific amusement, “I would advise you to properly shut your windows next time you try and hide a druid.”
The knight seized Hoseok then, eliciting a sharp yelp from his throat at the force of their grasp. Yoongi could feel his blood begin to boil, bubbling red and angry.
“You cannot do this, I am lord over this land and this manor! I request an audience with the king.”
“Normally that would be allowed; however, Min Hoseok is sentenced to death. Set to be hung in a fortnight.”
With a sigh the grieving pianist tries once again, setting his hands into position.
He begins to play, despite the aching in his heart, the pounding in his head, and the distant wail of a horn from across the land, the signal of an execution.
A lamentation fills the room; bemoaning chords and regretful dissonance. Yoongi pours his heart into the melody, chasing away the dust with his cries, cursing the sunlight for shining so brightly on such a dreadful day.
With a sob he falls forward, pressing into the notes with a roar of a crescendo, shaking in his frail form. With blurred eyes he plays, wishing to go back; back to days filled with gold, with light, with love, and magic.
“I will always love you, Min Yoongi!”
His fingers slip, the ivory coated with salt.
Covering his face he tries not to cry so loudly, in fear of disturbing anyone around, taking advantage of the lovely weather. With a whimper he wipes off the keys, a silent plea of forgiveness for abusing the instrument so.
The pianist stands to busy his mind with something else, the pain in his chest too great to continue on the way he had, when he sees a figure standing in the doorway.
“I have never heard you play your piano so woefully, my love.”