Music to my Ears

There are Two Sides to Every Dream

It's so empty...

...goes the understatement of the century.

For the entirety of his college career, Yoongi was quite used to spending time alone in the practice room, accompanied by nothing but the dulcet tones of the piano.  But when you spend enough time with someone, even the most solitary people can become lonely.  About two weeks had passed since Jin stopped coming to practice.  No text messages, no phone calls, no FaceTimes: absolute radio silence from the one he held so dear.  And for some reason, Yoongi was beginning to feel like he deserved it. 

He had since moved on in his practice to the final composition, Liebestraum no. 3, and he was thankful that he was already plenty well-versed in the piece to not need Jin's help.  However, that didn't stop him from missing his second half immensely.

It was so quiet these days.  Late November meant that students were getting ready to go home on holiday back to their parents, and that others were too busy studying for their exams to even go to after school activities, much less stay on campus for any longer than they had to.  On days like this, Yoongi used to relish in the much needed silence—better to hear his own notes, after all—but there was something missing, and it was obvious as to what that was.

Yoongi felt a pang in his chest as he sat still on the piano bench.  The sun had a tendency to set earlier this late in the year, so he was left in utter darkness aside from the white gleam of the artificial light panels installed in the ceiling.  His hands had not moved an inch from his lap.  His mind had already begun to drift to better days.

The high-pitched laughter.  The voice that could switch from honey-silken smooth to that of a grating chalkboard in a matter of seconds.  That awful tendency to wink and throw finger guns in the air whenever he was flustered.  The way his cheeks would get so puffy when he ate.  God, Yoongi missed it all.  And that absence left Yoongi feeling completely and utterly lost. 

What did it mean to love someone, anyway?  Why was Jin so adamant that Yoongi didn't love him?  And why was Yoongi so sure that he did?

There wasn't a simple answer to any of this, Yoongi knew.  The only thing that was certain was that Yoongi missed that stupid face more than anything in the world.

What was he doing here, in this place?  This room contained only fragments of broken memories and lost causes.  He has a keyboard back in his dorm that he could always use to practice instead, so why was he here?  Was it perhaps because he was clinging on to the fantasy that, one day, Jin would change his mind and show up out of the blue, ready to take Yoongi back into his arms and hold him close and tell him he loves him and maybe even kiss him, just one sweet, gorgeous "Welcome Home" peck?

No!  That's silly!

Ahem...

Regardless, being here alone in the dark of the afternoon settled him with a chilling feeling. He looked out at the black of the piano's surface, the keys covered by their smooth case that he barely even touched for the duration of practice. The mere thought of touching their ivory skins would bring on a sense of unbearable longing, and yet, Yoongi flipped open the case.

They were still, like staring out at a white lake, swans flocking together so as to create a milky way of feathers, clouding the blue buried underneath. They glimmered under the glare of the artificial lighting.

Ah.

So that's why he stayed.

Because music is his everything.

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Yoongi was six when his mother was diagnosed with a weak heart. As all young children are, he didn't understand what it really, truly meant. He just knew that things would never be the same again.