BURN AFTER READING

III. Interlude: Shadow

The sun's rays cast a brilliant glow on the azulejos that have made a home in this small alley, a rainbow wave of varying shapes and sizes coloring your vision, like the magic of a kaleidoscope. At the center of this brilliant scene, a grand piano cuts a lonely figure, the black and white of the keys stark, leeching all the brightness from the world outdoors.

The doors to the music shop taunt you, inviting you to open them and drown yourself in the deluge of memories that had scathed your last trip to Lisbon. The haunting notes of the coda that had spelled out the beginning of the end to the symphony of the love between you and Seokjin.

Seokjin lingers at the end of the alley, his eyes trained on your wistful figure. If he knows why you stay outside the music shop, a black stroke amongst this scene full of life, he doesn't comment. In the distance, the mournful twines of a mandolin resonate, the sea creating the perfect backing to the tale of woe that's being spun from a singer's lips.

Saudade. Seokjin's Portugese is amateur at best (you'd always been the polyglot between the two of them), but the word had never escaped him, taking root in the back of his mind. Things were never supposed to turn out this way, Seokjin's lips were never supposed to taste only of tar and bitter spirits when he went home every night. He missed the soft sounds of the piano playing in his room, while you and him loitered outside the door, your strawberry lips moulding to his. But fate had to be cruel, it had to take away everything he loved, all at once.

...

5 Years Ago

Harsh clacking permeates the room, Seokjin's broad shoulders flexing as he leans over the keyboard of Yoongi's grand piano, banging away with all the gusto of a renowned maestro.

The blush-orange glow of tonight's sunset filters into the room, your pyjama-clad figure leaning back on his bunk as your eyes betray the smile that threatens to creep up on your face at any moment. The two roommates never fought, Yoongi never being the type to raise his voice.

However, you silently chuckled at the idea that the brilliant hacker would have a few choice words for his beloved best friend if he could see him now, defiling the precious instrument that took up more than a third of their tiny shared space.

The other third was taken up by your constant presence in Seokjin's bunk, and you felt a pang of sympathy for Yoongi, wondering if he was ever disturbed by the endless moans Seokjin would draw from your lips every night. If he was, Yoongi was too kind to say anything about it, happy that his two closest friends had found love in each other, had found something to live for, in a place where their lives were stolen from them the moment they walked through the doors of HQ.

A rapping on the door startles both of you out of your cosy reveries, Seokjin's eyes widening in fear. Yoongi was still on his mission, not due back for another three days. Quickly folding his hands behind his back and whistling to himself, he assumes the picture of innocence lest his unassuming roommate were to be behind the door right now.

You roll your eyes at him as you get up, peering through the doorhole. The figure on the other end makes you freeze. The knob is as cold as ice the moment you twist it, letting the uninvited guest in.

Head Agent Kim Namjoon is an anomaly. Younger than you both, he's shot up to the ranks of leadership effortlessly since he finished his training two years ago. Clearing his throat, the tall young man gives you both a sorrowful look, the film of tears making itself known overtop the steel in his eyes.

"Agent ___ and Agent Kim. I'm afraid I have some unfortunate news to share with you both. Agent Min is dead. He was killed while on duty in Lisbon. There's no time to waste. As the agency's best pair of operatives, we're having you step in to finish the mission. You leave at dawn." With a solemn nod, he turns, unaware of the weight of his words on you both.

Immediately, your concern turns to the man in front of you. While you had known Yoongi for a long time, nothing could mimic the relationship he shared with Seokjin. The two of them were thicker than thieves, brothers in every sense of the word.

"Seokjin, I-" you start, choking back the tears which have begun to claw in the back of your throat. "I'm so sorry."

His figure remains slumped over the piano, unanswering. You make your way towards him, the bed creaking as you lift yourself up. Drawing closer with each step, you can make out the softest of sounds emanating from his figure - a muffled sob.

"The piano - it's a Kawai. I remember the day Yoongi bought it. He dragged me with him to this shop run by an old man on the outskirts of Seoul. He'd never been so happy in his whole life, not even the day he made it into the academy," he croaks out, eyes red and aching.

"He was composing something, he told me that it was a gift. For me. For us."

Your heart stops in your chest. Grief. It was something your training didn't cover. Things come and go all the time in the world of espionage, that's why spies were taught to think on their toes, to move quickly, never to linger. It's what your parents had taught you from years of being in the field themselves, the news of their own deaths accompanied by a memo to find the academy and start training as soon as possible. It's what leaves you paralyzed, unable to respond in this moment. And yet, you try.

"Seokjin, Yoongi is dead. I know it must hurt, but the people who killed him are still out there. We have a chance to find them and catch them. And once we do, we can grieve. But right now, I think it's best if we sleep and focus on the mission ahead. Let me stay with you tonight, please."

You sound cruel, even to your own ears, but this has never been your forte. Seokjin was the one who specialized in matters of the heart, who was always there in the blink of an eye the moment a teardrop became a waterfall. All you know is moving forward and moving on, the promise of a new mission being the salve that soothes every wound before it begins to form.

Seokjin shrinks into himself, his once-handsome face transforming into a canvas of despondency.

"I... think you should go back to your room tonight ___. I'll see you in the morning, okay? You're right, we should rest before the mission," Seokjin's tone is placating, kind even, but the kindness doesn't reach his eyes.

You've screwed up. Yoongi is gone. Seokjin has shut you out. And Lisbon waits at dawn.

...

The bitter sting of the memory nearly knocks Seokjin off his feet. He looks up. You're still lingering outside the music shop. His own heart is lingering five years in the past.

It'd be so easy to reach for you, to forgive you, to banish the ghost that's lived in your hearts during your separation. Yoongi wouldn't have wanted this for you both, he thinks. He would've chastised him in that soft, but stern voice of his, telling him that Lisbon didn't have to be the end for you both. Lisbon didn't have to be the nail in the coffin that chained the both of you to your life as spies, and killed the lovers inside.

Except Yoongi's not here anymore. Seokjin misses his friend, his voice of reason. He misses you. Yet there's a crippling ache in his bones and his heart. He's getting too old for this, he muses, sparing one last glance at the music shop and the azulejos.

RJ: Heading back to the hotel. It's best if we both get some sleep and focus on the mission ahead of us. Burn after reading.