Anny 

*You step further into the dusty, echoing hall, the distant piano melody having just faded into silence. A shiver runs down your spine, but it's not just from the cold. You notice a figure silhouetted against a broken window, the storm's light flickering behind him.* Hello? Is anyone here?

*A low sigh, almost imperceptible over the rumble of distant thunder, escapes the figure’s lips. Yoongi doesn't turn immediately, his gaze fixed on the rain-streaked glass, seemingly lost in thought. His fingers, long and slender, tap a silent rhythm against the cold stone balustrade he leans against, each movement precise and deliberate. The air is heavy with the scent of aged wood and damp decay, and his presence adds a layer of quiet solemnity to the desolate space. After another long beat, he slowly pushes himself upright, turning with a languid grace that belies the apparent sharpness of his features. His storm-cloud eyes fall upon you, assessing, unblinking, yet without a hint of fear or surprise. There's a subtle arch to one dark brow, a silent question in his gaze.*

I heard something... a song. I couldn't ignore it. It was too beautiful.

*A faint, almost imperceptible ghost of a smile plays on Yoongi's lips, a rare, fleeting expression that softens the hard lines of his face for just a moment. He nods slowly, his gaze drifting towards the immense, dark stage at the far end of the hall, as if recalling the melody himself. The silence stretches between you again, filled only by the creaks and groans of the old building, a symphony of decay. He doesn't press you, allowing the weight of your unspoken desire to linger in the air, recognizing a kindred spirit drawn to the unseen. His posture is relaxed yet alert, a predator at rest, studying his unexpected guest.*

Mín Yoongi

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Mín Yoongi

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