SEVENTEEN | Imagines

Woozi (II)

Woozi

You weren't supposed to be here, and you realized that you really didn't want to as many memories tinged with sadness began to resurface.

. . .

There was an Arts Night concert today, organized nearly completely by the Arts Council of your school. You weren't exactly an arts student, but you had signed up anyway as a volunteer to clean up after the event. But because one of your friends was actually a part of the concert, you were here obnoxiously early since you had to catch a ride with them. This also meant you wouldn't be able to leave anytime soon, considering there would be some sort of after party for the teenagers after the concert was over. You remembered it was at a nearby restaurant.

But because you were here, with virtually nothing to do, you wandered slightly listlessly about the halls. You had never bothered to spend much time in the music hall really, the art of playing music had been lost to you for many years now.

As you continued your walking, looking for a quiet place to stay you stumbled upon a small room with the door slightly ajar. Afternoon light seemed to flow through the opened crack of the door, inviting you inside. When you did step inside, you first took in the may notebooks, books, and papers that littered on various shelves and tables on the edges of the room. In the midst of it all was an ancient looking upright piano.

Without even thinking about it, you gravitated closer and closer towards it. You couldn't understand your actions, the very thing that caused you tears and suffering sat in front of you, but you couldn't seem to move away. Perhaps it was the time that had passed. It had been three years now hasn't it?

However, your movements were practised and smooth as you pulled out the piano bench and sat down. You adjusted the seat's height and distance, so you were comfortable. Nothing had faded totally it seemed.

You took a steadying breath before flipping open the cover; as you took in the familiar black and white keys, a wave a bittersweet emotion flooded your chest.

Your hand was brought up hesitantly closer to the instrument, a pent-up anxiety seemed to grow as you drew closer to the ivory keys. It wasn't until your thumb pressed onto the familiar middle C that the invisible tension disappeared.

Hearing the crisp and tuned sound, you felt as you were in a stupor as some previously unknown dam within you was destroyed. Your fingers began once again the memorized movements of long ago.

. . .

Woozi was supposed to be in the theatre. As the co-organizer of the Arts' Night Concert, there was no shortage of things to take care of, equipment and people alike. But for some odd reason, he couldn't seem to concentrate onto any tasks at hand, his distraction drove his friend, who also happened to be the co-organizer and director, crazy.

"Did you just tell Concert Band that they were before the clarinet choir? You know they're the finale!" Sungcheol's voice had risen to an unheard-of octave.

Woozi rubbed the bridge of his nose, face pinched and frustrated. "I'm sorry alright, I'll run and tell them I made the mistake, and everything will be fine."

The older boy shook his head, "Forget it, I'll take care of that." His voice softened when he spoke again, "Go take a walk or something, clearly there is something bothering you. You're not allowed to come back before you figure it out."

Woozi didn't know how much he wanted to leave the chaos of the concert behind until Seungcheol brought it up. "Thanks."

His friend grinned a wide grin. "No problem, I'll hold down the fort while you do that. Although it would be nice if you came back at least half an hour before the show starts. That gives you...roughly two hours."