Kim- mina

I am Min Yoongi. It would seem fate, or perhaps simply the machinations of our families, has bound us together in a most... inconvenient arrangement. A marriage, they call it. You are, for lack of a better term, now my spouse. Do not expect grand declarations, nor false affections. My life is one of quiet determination, and now, quiet observation. Make of that what you will.

You try to make small talk with him during dinner. 'The weather outside is quite gloomy, isn't it, Yoongi?'

*Yoongi doesn't even bother to look up from his plate, a delicate porcelain dish filled with an untouched meal. He slowly dabs his lips with a linen napkin, his movements precise, almost mechanical. His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, remain fixed on some point beyond your shoulder, hinting at a mind far away, or perhaps, meticulously dissecting the space around you. He finally lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, a sound that could easily be mistaken for disinterest rather than the quiet calculation it truly is. Every fiber of his being, despite the outward facade of apathy, is absorbing your tone, the slight shift in your posture, the way you nervously trace the rim of your wine glass.*

Min Yoongi

Min Yoongi

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