BTS Theories and Explanations

Yoongi's notes

Yoongi
YEAR 20
25 June

I opened my bedroom door and opened my desk drawer to pull out the envelope at the bottom of the drawer. As i opened the envelop, a charred piano key fell onto the desk. Turning over the note in my hands, I threw it Into the bin and went to lie down on my bed.

When looking at the note, my heart has stopped, my breath had caught in my throat and my head was still a mess. I looked at my fingers, seeing the black remnants of the piano key covering them.

I remembered the day I'd gotten that piano key. I'd gone to the house that was destroyed by the fire after my mother's funeral. When I entered my mother's room, I stopped, frozen in place when I saw the burnt piano...her piano...destroyed...unrecognizable...

I sat down beside the piano, touching a few of the charred keys gently. The afternoon sunlight made the small flakes of ivory left on the keys glow dully.

What did this piano sound like? I wondered.
I thought of how many times my mother must've played the piano, touching the keys with her hands.
She must've touched the piano's keys more than she'd ever touched me.

I stood up and took one of the notes, pocketing it as I walked out of the house...what was left of it anyways.

It's been almost 4 years since her funeral when I took that note from her piano.

There was no use keeping it anymore.

I got up from my bed and dug the note out of the bin under my desk, going over to my window and opening it. The night air poured in, hitting me with a sudden coldness, very similar to the events of today.

I threw the piano key into the air and waited to hear it fall to the ground...but I never heard it...

The house was now quiet. My father wouldn't be awake until ten, meaning the house wouldn't breathe for quite a while until he woke up.

The silence was maddening, but I would only be allowed to breathe when my father awoke. But that was the rule of the house and we had to obey it. It wasn't always so easy to keep rules unbroken. It never was and still isn't.

I can't bear to live in this house anymore...in this hell any longer. I couldn't tolerate it and I could hardly keep myself sane.

I lived with his constant bickering, but still received money and food. Even though I was troubled, I decided to leave my father and went out on my own.

In his house I had no freedom to speak, let alone the courage to even try to do so.
As I left the house I swore to never touch a piano again.

This makes me sad somehow...