Music to my Ears

What is Love Anyway?

The digital keyboard sat idle in front of Jin, who had been racking his brain for the longest time on what he should do to write the perfect response song.

No specific melody was coming to mind.

Perhaps he could invert the tune? No, that would sound janky unless it was purposeful. Should it be bright? No, that wouldn't be an accurate reflection of their time together, nor would it be his style. Should it be somber? No, not really. He didn't want to be any more depressed than he already was.

So many different ideas filtered through his head, a flurry of concepts and thoughts clashing and clinking like a falling pyramid of wine glasses, knocked over by the slightest touch. There were so many things he wanted to say and not enough words—or melodies—to say them. He pressed the keys aimlessly, hoping that by some miracle they would form one cohesive song, one cohesive thought. He wanted the song to show how wonderfully vulnerable Yoongi had made him feel, the anxiety that came with the potential of not being loved back, the fear that he had just lost an important friendship, but all of these thoughts were exactly that: just thoughts. Thoughts that he was unable to figure out for himself, much less put down to paper in the form of abstract notes.

When he eventually became bored and frustrated from his lack of talent, he left the keyboard plugged in and resumed his days' assignments, organizing his desk and other chores that probably shouldn't be left for later. He kept circling around the piano, wondering if he had the inspiration now to sit down and come up with something ingenuitive, but he found that he was never in the right headspace.

Night had come quickly, and his apartment was drowning in darkness aside from the singular string of light fixtures glaring in his kitchen. Around this time, Jin would usually send Yoongi a goodnight text, wishing him sweet dreams and good luck in all of his endeavors, but he was feeling so horribly embarrassed and distraught that he couldn't even bring himself to touch his phone.

Oh well. Another time, then.

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Yoongi had become so focused on his practice that nothing could faze him anymore. Not the loud laughter of students rushing out of the classroom buildings. Not the squawking of the pigeons outside of his window. Not even the janitor who kept obnoxiously scream-singing songs as he mopped the floors, ignorantly believing that all the students had already left campus and being too deaf to hear the sounds of the piano coming from practice room 304.

Yoongi was alone, but not lonely. He had the piano to keep him company, as it had been all of these years. He learned to take solace where he could find it, even if he was still impossibly bitter and heartbroken over the way Jin left. He had not heard from him in a while, but maybe Yoongi wasn't ready to hear from him just yet either.

Instead, he had the big competition to serve as his distracter for the time being. If he placed first, he would get the chance of a lifetime to study abroad in Germany, a chance to start doing what he loved for the rest of his life. That was incentive enough to focus on practice and to get his ass in gear, no matter how much he missed the stupid, troublesome Jin who kept invading his mind and thoughts.

Taking a momentary break, he slipped on his grey hoodie and walked towards the café at the edge of campus, their very first "date" spot, although they didn't consider it one at the time. He would simply get his iced americano, take a seat somewhere on the establishment while he drank it, and then go back for some more practice. Easy, right?

When he walked through the glass doors of the café and the little yellow bell announced his presence, he noticed the long line that was snaking through the building, each customer impatiently tapping their feet against the floor, scrolling through their phone, or talking to the person standing in line next to them.