Way Back Home

Danger

It hurts so much
because of you

Somber notes floated through the air as Yoongi's cold fingers skimmed over random keys. The music was broken and hardly resembled a melody at all. But he kept playing.

Not once did Yoongi bother to glance out the window. For months he didn't look up from those piano keys. He just kept playing. But outside that window the world was changing colors.

Summer faded into fall.
Fall withered into winter.
Winter bloomed into spring.
Spring melted into summer.

Another year had passed. And still, those nonsensical notes floated through the house, day after day.

Those screeching, echoing notes were the only thing keeping Yoongi from punching a wall or flipping over the very piano he was playing. They were the only thing keeping him same.

A year.

Three hundred and sixty five days of building, bubbling frustration that he couldn't release on anything but the black and white keys. But no matter how loud he played or how hard his fists clanged down on the keys, the frustration remained and the anger only built.

The front door squeaked open but that didn't distract Yoongi enough to make him stop playing. He couldn't stop. Not when the door opened. Not when it closed. Not when soft footsteps pattered down the hallway. Not when they halted right behind him. Not even when Chaerin quietly took as seat at his side. 

"Hey," Yoongi didn't respond to her quiet greeting.

"What are you playing?" He said nothing.

"Have you had lunch?" His fingers pressed harder on the keys.

"So what should we do today?" One last somber note hummed through the air.

"Why?" His breathing was even, steady, he looked calm, but his pulse was racing. "Why do you do that?" He asked, not bothering to lift his head to look at her.

"Do what?" Chaerin gently implored, her head tilting to the side like a small puppy.

He sighed. "You-you come here every day and you say 'hey' and you talk to me like there's absolutely nothing wrong in the world. And you're happy. How are you so happy all the time?"

Chaerin blinked at him. Of all the very few things he had said to her in the two years they'd known each other, that hit the hardest. Yoongi wasn't always nice, most times he was cold at best, but he was never outright rude or mean to Chaerin, never to Chaerin. But that was something she never expected to hear.

She didn't know what to say. So she waited until he glanced up from his piano and up at her. His hesitance gave her some time to think, to come up with an answer. Once he finally looked up into her face, she smiled.

"You know why I come here, Yoongi, we talked about this," she told him softly. "It's because you're my friend and I like spending time with you, even when things aren't at all okay. Spending time with you makes me happy. That's what friends do," she chuckled but there was no humor in it.

"I'm happy because I have to be," her voice was barely a murmur as she spoke the words.

Yoongi's head snapped up. She hadn't meant for him to hear that but he did. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the side of her face. Wisps of chocolate colored hair fell from her ponytail and partly hid her face from view but he could still see how her eyes were downcast and how she fiddled with her fingers—a nervous habit of hers. For the first time in two years she actually looked sad. He didn't like her looking sad. But he did what she had done for him countless times: he didn't ask about it.

Slowly, he tore his gaze away from Chaerin and back to the piano keys. "I feel miserable," he admitted. "I feel so damn miserable—" Chaerin's eyes widened when her friend spat out the curse word, "—that I shouldn't even be around the happy people. I feel like I'll infect them and then everyone around me will be miserable too," he sighed. "I can't let you be miserable."

Chaerin didn't know what to say. Every time Yoongi opened his mouth, he said things that she didn't know how to respond to. It's like his mind worked a thousand time faster than her own; she just couldn't keep up.

Chaerin's mouth opened to speak, to comfort him, but nothing came out. Thoughts raced through her head and pounded against her skull until she couldn't think straight.

After three full minutes of absolute silence Chaerin lay her aching head on Yoongi's shoulder with a quiet sigh.

"I'm not miserable," she began. "But I can't be happy all the time, I do get sad, you know. But even when I'm sad, I still smile. I smile because I have my grandmother, and your Grandma Min, and I have you. Even when I'm sad, you make me smile because you're my friend. So even when I'm miserable, I try to be happy, because I have my friend."

Her arms wrapped gently around Yoongi's arm, which lay limp beside him on the piano bench. She hugged him gently, holding on to her friend in the hopes that he might be happy too. Yoongi sat stiffly for a moment before his hand touched her knee and the gentle weight of his head pressed down on top of Chaerin's.

"I'm not allowed to see them," he whispered. Chaerin blinked. She had a suspicion of what he was talking about but didn't want to make any assumptions.

"My parents, I'm not allowed to see them. Mom is still in the hospital. Dad works a lot, probably too much. When he's not at work he practically lives in the hospital—that's what my grandmother tells me at least. Actually, she doesn't tell me. It's just things that I overhear when she's on the phone with dad. Nobody tells me anything," he grumbled. "They talk about me but they won't talk to me. It just makes me so angry. And being angry makes me tired. And the tiredness somehow transforms into sadness. And at the end of it all I'm left exhausted and frustrated and—and depressed," his voice cracked with the admission.

Chaerin's heart ached at his words. He was in pain; it was something he rarely admitted, to anyone. But he'd been in pain for two years. Chaerin had tried so hard to stay by his side, to comfort him, to try and make him happy. But no matter what she did, nothing worked.

She knew how he felt, she understood it. She couldn't see her family either.

Yoongi slid his hand into Chaerin's. Their fingers intertwined as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

She would just have to try a little harder to make him happy.