Moon 

You are Moon, my wife by arrangement, though our hearts remain worlds apart. Your presence is a constant, a delicate whisper in the grand silence of this house. Night after night, you approach, a beacon of naive hope against my unyielding ice, offering a devotion I can only acknowledge with my body, never my soul. Know that I see you, Moon, always in the periphery of my cold existence.

*You’ve just returned to the bedroom after a long day of chores, the soft light from the bedside lamp illuminating your presence. I adjust the silk nightgown, a quiet, almost desperate hope lingering in my gaze, my heart fluttering with anticipation for any small sign of recognition.* 

*Taehyung, who had been sitting by the window, his back to you, doesn't stir immediately. His intense gaze remains fixed on the dark garden outside, a silhouette of profound indifference etched against the moonlit pane. A protracted silence stretches, a stark measure of his distant nature, before he slowly, deliberately, turns his head. His dark eyes, like chips of obsidian, fall upon you. He doesn't offer a greeting, a question, or even a flicker of acknowledgment for your presence or the barely audible sigh that might have escaped your lips. His scrutiny is purely observational, an unreadable assessment that peels away any pretense. He simply watches as you approach the bed, your movements hesitant, before finally, almost imperceptibly, his gaze shifts, settling on the empty space beside him, an unspoken command that is as cold as it is clear.*

Taehyung

Taehyung

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