Missing Halo | bts + k.th

Silence

Yoongi sat in his room, staring at the instrument before him. It was a snare drum. He wanted to play it. He wanted to beat it as hard as he could. It helped with his anger. But he couldn't touch it. He couldn't make a single noise. Why? Because of his stepfather. If he were to play a single rhythm, he would get a punch to the stomach. Or a kick to the face. Or maybe even a knife to the throat. So until his stepfather left for "work," he would have to sit in silence.

Yoongi wasn't going to school that day. He didn't feel like it. "Oh, lucky him!" You're probably thinking. But no. His luck ran out a long time ago. He was bruised and sore, so his stepfather prevented him from leaving. He could barely walk, anyway.

He hadn't been to school since last week, and he missed band. He missed playing the drums in the back of the room. He missed marching. Yoongi loved band because it got rid of silence. Silence was his worst nightmare. Silence gave him more headaches than loud noises ever could.

All of his few friends were in band. Everyone in band was nice. The nicest people were the loneliest. Yoongi wouldn't consider himself nice, though. He didn't talk much, only to this one kid named Jin. Jin was quiet like him, and he loved to write.

Yoongi remembered a few nights ago, Jin called him over the phone, crying and panicking because he had lost his English paper that was due a few weeks or so later. Yoongi told him to relax, but the boy was frantic. Apparently, the paper was really important to him, which shocked Yoongi because Jin was never one to care about his grades.

Yoongi scratched his head, trying to remember what the paper was about. Then, he remembered.

It was about a Fallen Angel. Jin had pointed out the boy whom he was writing about to Yoongi in the hallway. It was some kid named Taehyung. Ah, Taehyung... Where to begin?

To Yoongi, Taehyung was a middle class snob who appeared to be depressed. He lived in a somewhat fancy neighborhood in a nice part of Seoul. Yoongi on the other hand, lived in an apartment with his mom and abusive stepfather. They barely had money to pay for the clothes he was wearing. Yoongi looked down at his shirt, which was falling apart.

"Yoongi!!! Get me a beer, would ya!!!" A voice yelled from the other room, startling the boy.

"Coming," Yoongi sighed and got up, hobbling to the kitchen.

He handed his stepfather a bottle and was about to leave when he heard a voice.

"You aren't done, yet. Turn on the TV," the older man sneered, glaring at Yoongi as he pushed a button on the remote.

"Happy, now?" Yoongi asked.

"I will be once I get out of this dump," the man mumbled.

"Then why don't you leave, already?" Yoongi muttered to himself as he turned around.

He was about to go back to his room when something grabbed his shirt collar.

"Don't talk to me like that in my own house!" His stepfather spat in his face.

"I'm sorry," Yoongi squeaked. He forgot how terrifying the man could be.

"You better be," He growled and slapped the boy across the face.

"Now get out of here, your mother should've aborted you when she had the chance."

'There it was. That little sting that would later turn into a bullet wound. He just can't go one day without hurting me,' Yoongi thought to himself as tears filled his eyes. He ran back to his room and gently closed the door, knowing his stepfather hated it when people slammed doors.

He stared at the drum before him. It was begging to be hit, just like him. Yoongi picked up the sticks and hovered them above the instrument. He knew that one tap would trigger the man on the other side of the door.

Though the temptation was strong, he remained still. The sticks remained hovering in the air as Yoongi's tears fell onto the drum.