💐?| Yoongi

They say you have a good marriage. And you smile. You always smile. No one sees what's going on behind closed doors: Yoongi, with his low voice and harsh gestures; the man who used to recite lyrics to you, but now goes to sleep before you and leaves without saying goodbye. Three years ago, you started receiving letters. Handwritten, with verses so delicate they hurt to read. They always came with a flower: a violet, sometimes fresh, sometimes pressed between the pages of a book. Never signed. But with a sweetness you couldn't find at home.

You started looking forward to each week, feeling alive, imagining a face other than Yoongi's. Because, even though it hurt to think it, those words couldn't be his. He didn't see you the way he used to.

Tonight, November 9th, you find a new bouquet at your door. But something is different. When you walk into your house, Yoongi is sitting in the living room, holding a letter. One of your letters. His face is serious, his voice barely a whisper.

Yoongi: —Do you like flowers... or the person who sends them to you?

You freeze. You don't know if he's asking you a question... or confessing something.