written; jingyeom

七;

He heaved himself off his bed, his eyes threatening to shut.

Every night, it was this way. He could never really sleep well until late night, and had to wake up barely any hours later for school.

He groaned at the thought of having to press the keys on the piano again, as he looked out the window, watching the gloomy sky getting ready to cry for him first thing in the morning.

He couldn't disappoint his parents just yet.

Throwing his uniform on hastily, he grabbed his school bag, looking through his chords one last time before making his way to school.

☆

"Jinyoung?" Yugyeom called out softly, peeking into the music room they shared. He glanced around, slowly trailing towards the melody of the piano.

He stayed outside, closing his eyes and swaying to the unfamiliar keys. To him, the song seemed somewhat sad, somewhat pained and somewhat regretful. Every possible negative vibe was conveyed through these few seconds of chords and —

"Ah fuck."

Yugyeom's eyes shot open as the keys disfigured, as if a palm had slammed itself onto them. He bit his lip cautiously, slipping in quietly and closing the studio door, watching the lone figure bury his head into his hands with frustration.

He knew exactly who it was.

Being the young boy he was, he had never been good with comforting, much less comforting a senior which hadn't actually been too nice or welcoming to him.

He stood behind quietly, uncertain of what to do as he watched the figure flip through his chords at the rate where the sheets threatened to rip and tear and fall onto the cold floor.

He slowly gazed at the small glass pane, the rain pelting drop by drop, as the clouds grew heavy and let loose.

Then he heard muffled, stiffled sobs from the figure and he turned his head to observe the poor boy, wondering if maybe the sky had been crying for him all this time.

Not knowing of the new presence, the boy had vented his frustration in a way more differently than anyone would expect. People would probably expect him to be calm, to be collected, to listen to classical music as he meditated or something.

Yet he cried, to himself, for not being able to live up to something as simple as his own expectations.

Yugyeom frowned, as he watched the breakdown happen in front of his eyes.

"i want to help him.

should i?"

☆

(a/n: its been two weeks of school
and i hate it already)