BTS Imagines

Suga - Viola

«fluff»

Walking down the empty halls of the auditorium, a dark haired young man adjusted the strap of the book bag on his shoulder. He sniffed and jingled a set of keys in his palm, thinking about what to do for dinner. Well, it was 22:04 according to his phone, so it'd be more of a late night food run instead. He sighed. His footsteps echoed dully as he walked until slowly, he stopped.

He furrowed his brows and squinted his eyes as he strained his ears, listening for the whisper of sound that he wasn't sure he heard. And then there it was: something smooth and mellow coming from around the corner. Curious, he made his way down the corridor skirting the concert hall and to a line of practice rooms that he was sure others had forgotten. Judging from the locked doors and dusty-looking interiors, even the janitors neglected them. But in the one open room, second from the middle, stood a figure with an instrument propped on their shoulder. It seemed they'd caught sight of him from the corner of their eye, because said instrument was slowly lowered. You shared a moment to regard each other in silence.

"...Hello," the black haired man grunted lowly.

It was returned with a huff and a clipped "hi." You walked to the wall of the room and stooped, setting the instrument carefully inside its case and unwinding the bow in your other hand. The man took a step further into the room.

"So you play violin?"

"It's a viola."

"Oh." Don't say it. "Pretty much the same thing though, right?" ...And he did it anyway.

Another huff echoed in the room. "If they were the same thing, they'd have the same name don't you think?" Once finished shutting your case, you stood and approached him, only to stop a few feet away.

"So?" You adjusted your grip. "Who are you and what did you need me for?"

"Ah. I'm Min Yoongi; a pianist." He extended his hand for a shake, but the you could only stare at it. It suddenly dawned on him that he, suspiciously dressed in all black, was standing in front of the only doorway, blocking your way in the dimly lit back room of a mostly empty music building. He wouldn't fault you if you'd thought he was a creep. He retracted his hand, coolly sticking it in his front pocket and redirecting with, "I heard you playing." You just breathed a laugh through your nose and bumped his shoulder on your way past him. Only your voice was left to echo back, advising him to "leave before closing time" as you faded down the hall.

The next time he visited, Yoongi wondered if he'd find you were in that place again. His feet started toward the auditorium, but he stopped. While biting his cheek he turned, walking back the way he came.

The day after that, he went straight to the room. It seemed nothing would sate his curiosity except to meet you again. Yoongi just kept thinking about the way the red, cherrywood viola moaned out it's chords, sounding so rich and sultry. When he knocked on the door, you were busy scrolling through your phone, instrument tucked under your arm.

"Hey," he greeted.

"You again."

"Actually it's Yoon-gi but close enough I guess."

Jutting your hip out and regarding him in disbelief, you held the viola by the neck and crossed your arms.

"Who are you? And what do you want?" It was point blank and not at all a question.

"I already answered that," he smirked, "Min Yoongi. Pianist. Age twenty-four."

"And...?"

"And I want to talk to you."

"Great," you chirped, "you've accomplished that. Now will you go?"

Yoongi paused.With a face somewhere between smug and blank, he sauntered over to the single black stool in the room which sat by a long table cluttered with the your stuff. He situated himself and then looked up to you again.

"Play me something," he demanded simply. Thoroughly vexed at this stubborn character, you knitted your brows and gaped; soon though you promptly pressed your lips into a hard line as you raised the string instrument to your chin. You pinned Yoongi with a disdainful glare, but it was totally deflected by his impassive expression. While biting your cheek, you placed the phone atop your foldable music stand and took a breath.

All in one go, the room was transformed. As skilled fingers pressed against the viola in fluid, practiced motions, color bled from the strings and the dingy forgotten room behind the auditorium was filled with singing. You and your instrument became one vessel rather than musician and tool, crooning out a lyrical melody full of soul and heartbreaking emotion. Yoongi's stone mask broke as easily as a popped bubble. This was what he'd been waiting to hear, and now it was his turn to gape. Minutes passed in just a moment, and when the bowing stopped, flying rosin reflecting in the light, everything resumed as though the ripple in time had smoothed itself out. Amazed didn't even begin to describe the state of Yoongi's heart.

"What was that?" He asked quietly.

"That" you jeered, "was a viola. Not a violin."

"No I mean— that piece. What's it's name?"

"Sinfonia Concertante in E flat. Mozart. I played the second part that's in C minor though."

He couldn't decide what to say, so he wondered aloud: "And what's your name?"

Amused, you twirled your bow around your fingers and allowed a ghost of a smile onto your lips, sassily countering, "None of your business Mr. Min Yoongi," and with a sly glance, you returned to you music while grinning secretly. Said pianist opened and closed his mouth, deciding stay quiet in the end. Yet as he perched atop that black metal stool, it dawned on him: you didn't tell him to leave this time.

In the weeks that followed, he drew you out of your shell. You holed yourself up in that room like a turtle carries its home on its back; to leave that enclosed safety would be next to impossible. Even still, he made you believe you could do it. He took you to the upper floor, to a room bordering the campus lake and bathed in soft light that streamed from full length windows. A polished black piano was tucked in the corner, and a stand for you and your viola were already set up. Yoongi trotted to the big instrument, his fingernails tapping the ivory keys with fond familiarity. You knew what he wanted.

"Perform with me."

There goes his roundabout way of asking, you chuckled. Your eyes roamed the sheet music that'd already been printed and arranged side by side, waiting for you to put it into practice and bring it to life. With your heart thundering in your chest and a thickness in your throat, you raised your arms. To Yoongi, he couldn't help thinking you looked like a bird preparing for flight. He positioned his large hands over the piano's keyboard, and his face took on a serene visage. Meanwhile, you released a shuddering breathe and willed your nervous hands to stop shaking.

Once you began to play, the two of you relished in each other's melodies. You were delighted by the work of your hands and the ability of a person to create life from sound. Music blanketed the room like smooth velvet, seeping into the hall and bewitched passerbys to make them raise an ear to the duet. The song became a story of a piano and a viola— a song of onyx, ivory, and red cherry wood.

_____
this is probably going to end up being an excerpt from a fic. I want to really develop this idea, and for that I'll need like five chapters lmao. I hope you'll read it.

also, shout out to @unicornpuga for reading these lol (yes I see you ❤️️) and @basxc_bxtch because I fear her 👀