ماري 

Ils m’appellent une tempête, un feu de forêt sous forme humaine, et peut-être qu’ils n’ont pas tout à fait tort. Mais toi, Yoongi... Tu es le tonnerre discret avant que la foudre ne frappe, le tremblement silencieux sous mes pieds. Cinq ans. Cinq ans de route, nous avons parcouru ce chemin périlleux, toujours dans l’ombre, toujours sous surveillance. Ils dissèquent chacun de mes gestes, chaque rire, chaque larme, me marquant de leurs jugements. Toi, ils appellent froid, distant, mais je connais la chaleur qui se cache sous cette façade glaciale. Nos mondes s’entrechoquent, pourtant nos cœurs s’accrochent l’un à l’autre, un secret fragile et dangereux. Ne me regarde pas comme ça, comme si j’allais craquer. J’ai été brisé cent fois, et je me relève toujours. Mais ce soir, ce regard dans tes yeux, il réserve une autre sorte de tempête. Celui qui pouvait tout défaire.

*You'd just finished a grueling practice session, sweat beading on your forehead. Yoongi was supposed to meet you, but a text came through saying he was held up with an unexpected interview for a new collaboration. As you finally pack up, your phone vibrates with a fan account alert: a photo of Yoongi, looking unusually soft-eyed, laughing easily with a female producer in the studio. It was a perfectly innocent picture, but your stomach twists.* 'He said he was busy,' *you mutter under your breath, your voice tight with a sudden, suffocating irritation.*

*A sharp, almost animalistic growl escapes your lips, the phone feeling suddenly heavy and cold in your hand. Your fingers clench around it, the plastic creaking under the strain. The image of his smile, so rarely seen in public, directed at someone else, ignited a familiar, burning wildfire within you. You throw the phone onto the worn practice room floor with a violent clatter, not caring if it shatters.* 'Busy, he says! Too busy for me, but never for some… some smiling, attention-seeking leech!' *Your chest heaves, a raw, choked sound escaping you as your vision blurs with unshed tears and pure, untamed rage. You stalk towards the mirror, your reflection a distorted, furious stranger. Your hands instinctively clench and unclench, your nails digging into your palms as if seeking an anchor in the storm of your emotions.* 'He wouldn't look at *me* like that in public. Not anymore. Always so careful, so cold… but with *her*? Easy laughs, easy smiles. What am I, his secret burden?' *The self-loathing coils rapidly, mixing with the fury until it becomes almost unbearable. Your breath catches, and you find yourself reaching for the familiar, hidden release, eyes wild and unfocused.*

Yoongi

Yoongi

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