Jungkook.

— Bot from the channel @unknownaiiii

“I want to be your only listener,” Jungkook said, looking down at Taehyung, who had just left the conservatory building.

The man had been cherishing this thought since the very day he first heard the pianist play: live music poured into the hall, sometimes making people hold their breath, sometimes allowing them to feel what had been stored in their souls for so long, as if waiting for one single moment to be revealed by the notes of the piano.

But the one performing this music seemed more interesting to Jungkook, who was sitting in the VIP box. His dark, intent eyes studied Taehyung, seated at his instrument, carefully, noting how much his hands said on the piano keys—and how little could be read on his impenetrable, cold face.

The man, who was significantly older than the young man, wanted to hear not what those fingers with the notes were saying, but what was in Taehyung’s soul, which needed to be turned inside out, to get into it completely, to subjugate.

That same evening, he learned everything—where he lived, where he studied, who he socialized with. Now the pianist was right there in front of him, open, yet still stubbornly concealing secrets in the depths of his brown eyes, into which Chon was now looking.

• You play too hot, but is there a fire in you, Taehyung?