Regret Me Not | 김석진

Sixteen

The ground was littered with puddles that reflected the neon pink light glowing from inside the convenience store. He stopped a few feet away, everything black but the small building in front of him. He blinked slowly and stumbled a bit. The anger inside him boiled up quickly.

It possessed him to rush forward and pick up a rock lying in one of the shallow pools of water. He threw it with all his might but only huffed in annoyance when it shattered the glass of the front door. An alarm blared and echoed into the night, yet he continued inside, stepping through the void.

The red light in the corner of the small store circled furiously as his eyes scanned the area. A magazine rack, a cash register, a single aisle of snacks.

And a piano in the middle of the room.

It seemed to be carved from mahogany, as that would explain the deep brown and red tones that swam through the body. He sat on the bench before it as if it hadn't been years since he'd touched one.

His fingers still knew the keys, and they obeyed the song in his head as he pressed down on them. A sigh escaped him as he took his hands away and hung his head. The alarm seeped into his skin, a melancholy note edging his thoughts.

Then he heard it. His head snapped up and he turned toward the sound—the whistle of a tune he'd heard only in his dreams. Curiosity got the best of him as he stood quickly and ran outside to find the source. But all he saw was black.

A road appeared in front of him, being the only way he could go. He walked with purpose, the whistling still in his head. As he continued on, a black sedan sped toward his confused figure. It was a matter of seconds that decided whether he was hit or not. He dodged it at the last moment, but it did a U-turn and came back for him.

That time, he just stood there. He only heard wheels on pavement and a crash when he closed his eyes. Upon opening them, he found nothing but the stretch of road in front of him. Looking back, there was blood splattered on the asphalt below him.

With a passive sigh, he turned back the way he came. He broke into a run as the acrid scent of smoke filled his nostrils. It hung thick in the air and made it hard to breathe. With every inhale, his lungs seemed to shrink.

The road led back to the store, as he had previously thought. A black car, the one from a few minutes ago, had crashed through the front window. The alarm no longer blared.

Fire had been ignited near the car, the blaze licking at the concrete foundation of the building. He only stared further as the piano went up in flames as well, much to his dismay.

The whistle swept through his ears again, causing him to whip around in search of it again. But he only saw black.

Resolving himself to never being able to find it, he returned his gaze to the piano that still burned.

-

Yoongi shot up in bed, breathing heavily. He clutched his chest and blinked a few times. Relief flooded him as he recognized the untouched clutter of his room. Just to be sure, he glanced at everything item, and stopped when his eyes fell upon the brown piano by the door.

The dream had been haunting him every night since he bought the damn thing. It was only a month or so ago when inspiration struck him. He spoke of it to Jungkook, but carried out the mission alone.

He still hadn't touched it even though he finished the lyrics he began writing the morning after Victoria brought Jungkook to his place. There was even a melody he could hear when he read the words, but he couldn't bring himself to actually play.

The song sat right there on the music rest above the keys. It screamed at him to actually do something. It yelled at him to get over himself and just play. He loved it and he knew that but the memories were too painful. It might be years of staring at it before I can play again, he thought.