7.

Yoongi P.O.V

I bid farewell to Jin, my roommate, and made my way out of the dorms, into the autumn afternoon; a chilling wind was blowing, making me shiver in my hoodie. The sun's rays were falling, but weren't of any help because they gave off little to no heat.

The trees I was passing by were almost barren. A few yellowish leaves were hanging onto the branches for dear life. The other fallen leaves were either being swept up by the wind, or were getting crunched under my Puma shoes.

I shoved my hands into my pockets for warmth and stared at the cloudy sky, which brought back some memories.

The weather was stormy, and so was my mom's mood.

The electricity in the house had been cut because we had forgotten to pay the bill.

"I spend all my income, paying for your school fees, so that you can have a good education. But what do you do? Fail in all subjects, and bunk school for half of the year, wasting all of my hard earned money!" My mom said angrily.

"Not all subjects. . ." I mumbled under my breath.

"What was that, you little brat?!" She had shouted at me.

"I didn't fail in all subjects; only those I didn't think were important," I had said boldly.

"That isn't up to you to decide. I don't pay your fees for you to just study for the few subjects you think are important," she said incredulously.

I knew she had a point, and I felt sort of guilty because she did work really hard to provide for us both. I was just going to apologize, but the next thing she said put me off.

"Your dad should've been here. He would have beat some sense into you," she said rolling her eyes, but when she realized what she had said, something which looked like regret flashed through her eyes. I was speechless.

'She did not just say that.'

"Son, I—" she said reaching out to me, seemingly at a loss for words. I shoved her hand away, and ran out the door, banging it shut behind me.

'How could she pull out the father card so easily, especially after she knows just how much I loathed him, and how the mere mention of him triggered me?' I had thought to myself, tears threatening to fall out of my eyes any second.

I wiped away the tears, not wanting to feel any more sorrow because of that bastard. I finally looked up, and found myself in an unknown alleyway, and I got rather pissed till I realised that it was the same one I passed by on my way to school.

'School. . .' The whole argument with my mom flashed through my mind.

I kicked a stone out of frustration, which flew and hit something at the far end of the alley, causing a loud clinking noise, that echoed in my ears, due to this being a secluded area.

I was curious as to what made the sound, and went forward to examine it. I took my second handed phone out, and switched on the flashlight, slowly walking over to where the sound had come from.

Near the end of the alleyway, I came across a dust covered keyboard with a few broken keys.

I bent down and wiped the dust away with my hand. After the dust settled, I could see the keyboard a bit more clearly; with all the dust covering it gone, it actually looked new and usable.

The previous owners must have mishandled the keyboard for it to be in such a condition.

I was filled with an urge to get it fixed, so I decided to carry it to the record store a few blocks away, which I've been at so much, that I can safely call it my second home.

After about ten minutes I had finally reached, and stood in front of a huge yellow building, sort of breathless and with aching arms. I looked up, and saw a huge neon yellow sign which read 'HYBE Record Store'.

I pushed open the door, and was greeted with soothing, jazz music.

There were all sorts of musical instruments you could imagine, and many more which I didn't recognise. The walls were painted a soothing shade of yellow, which were matching the colour of the lights.

There was a television set which would always show a tutorial on how to play any instrument; today's was a tutorial for beginners to play the piano.

It felt like fate.

There were shelves after shelves of music albums, a record player accompanying every shelf.

I walked to the nearest shelf and was looking for some place to put down the keyboard, when I was startled by a sudden voice behind me. I turned around, and was met with the sight of an old man with glasses on.

"Oh, Mr. Choi!" I exclaimed.

"What brings you here again young man? And why are you carrying that old keyboard with you?" The man said to me, with a kind smile.

"I found this in the alleyway a few blocks down from here. I was wondering if this could be fixed?" I looked up at him, slightly tilting my head.

"We can, but there's no guarantee that it'll work just as well as I assume it once did," Mr. Choi had said.

"Oh that doesn't matter! It's fine even if it works just a little."

"Why can't you just buy a new one?"

"I can, but it would mean a lot if you could help get this fixed," I said in a persuasive manner. He looked at me for a second before slowly nodding his head, and smiling at me.

I grinned, and made my way to the end of the store, where I always sat.

It had a traditional seating with a fun eclectic, vintage-inspired chair that gave off a bohemian vibe. Layer on textured throw pillows and rugs were placed, that gave the space a warm and inviting feeling.

No one will understand why I wanted this keyboard, but I personally felt a connection with it, even though I had found it only a short while ago.

We were both ill treated, and misused, in a way. Somewhere deep down, I hoped repairing this keyboard would help mend my broken soul, but the rational part of my mind had disagreed.

I got up and took my favourite Vinyl record from off the shelf, and gently placed it on the player. Cool music filled the my ears, and I immediately felt at peace.

All the events that occurred a few hours back, were nothing but another horrible memory stored at the back of my brain.

I closed my eyes, and leaned back, a soft smile growing on my lips.

After what felt like forever, a voice shook me out of my calm state, and I sat up straight on seeing Mr. Choi beaming at me. "It's ready," is all he said.

I immediately jumped up, and walked out of my little corner, and went up to the cash register.

"Does it work?" I said, slightly bouncing on my feet.

"Why don't you try it out yourself, son?" He said, chuckling.

I nervously pressed a few keys on the keyboard, trying to match it with the one I had seen on the small TV in the record store. I was scared at first, but then felt the music take control over my body.

I was so engrossed in the music, that I had forgotten about Mr. Choi.

Flustered, I hastily stopped pressing the keys and looked up at him, feeling heat rise up to my cheeks. "I'm sorry, I just zoned out." I scratched the back of my nape.

"That's alright, Yoongi," he said, showing off his amused eye smile, and ruffling my hair.

"Thank you! How much is it for the repair by the way?"

"It's on the house son." Mr. Choi smiled.

"O-oh, but why?" I asked, confused.

"I see talent in you, Yoongi. The passion you have for music. . . I have not seen that for quite a while now. I believe you can do great things with it," he said.

'Talent?' I felt a warm feeling in my chest after hearing that.

"Thank you so much Mr. Choi! I promise to take good care of it. I will make you proud," I said, slightly bowing.

"Yes, I know you will." He patted my shoulder.

I was elated that there was someone in my life who didn't think I was useless, and had faith in me.

I had talent. And I worked hard to nurture it.

The keyboard had seemed useless because it was misused and had a few broken keys. But someone treating it right and fixing it made it good as new.

I was, in a way, very similar to that keyboard I had found all those years ago.

I am still waiting to find that someone who will treat me right and will heal and fix me to the happy person who I am capable of being.

Music used to only be my hobby; a time pass of sorts. But now, I realised that music is my passion, something I have talent in.

After that incident, I was fuelled to keep my promise to Mr. Choi and make him proud.

He was like a father to me; a much better one than that asshole. I haven't spoken to Mr. Choi for about three years, but I know, wherever he is, he would be proud of who I am today.

I broke out of my trance and realised that I had reached the Arts building.

I walked through the colourful corridors, which were empty now since it was after hours, till I reached a specific door. I pushed the door open and walked into the familiar room.

This room had comforted me countless times in my time here at G.V.U.

The piano room.

I sat down and began pressing random keys to warm my fingers up. This tune. . . it's not bad. I opened my eyes and began paying more attention to the music I was creating.

A, c, D, c, c, A, G, f, G, A, D, c, c, f. . .  A, c, D, c, c, A, G, f, G, A, D, c, c, f. . .

I tried again and again yet I kept getting stuck at the same key; I didn't know which note would sound perfect, so I left it at that and began playing a piece which I had been practising for a long time, and which I'm confident in playing;

La Campanella.

Five keys into the piece and I was transported into another dimension where nothing matters except for me and the music I'm making.

My favourite place. No worries, no problems, no stress. The shitty world I'm living in doesn't matter over here.

I finished the piece with a grand ending and looked up, forced back into the problematic but real world.

I felt a presence beside me and turned around.

I saw a man, a few years younger than me, with long black hair parted to reveal his forehead. His doe eyes were widened, staring in my direction in a trance, and his lips were parted, allowing his front teeth to poke through, making him look like a rabbit.

His ears were pierced, similar to mine, but he had a helix piercing too. He was dressed in a casual manner, black hoodie paired with black tracks and black Timberlands.

Hearing the music stop, he quickly straightened up.

"Were you just standing there the whole time, staring at me?" I asked, rather weirded out.

"Uh, yes," the guy said, looking flustered.

"Not creepy at all," I muttered.

"Uhm, that was really good. La Campanella is one of the most difficult pieces to perfect and you seemed to be playing it flawlessly. I'm really impressed," he said, trying to clear the awkward atmosphere.

"Thank you, I guess. I have been practicing it for a long time," I said, standing up and wiping my hands on my jeans. "Are you a new music student?"

"No, I'm in neurobiology," he said rather dryly.

"How did you know about La Campanella then?" I asked him, intrigued as not a lot of people, apart from the ones majoring in music, knew about this.

I could see him stiffen, and desperately try to think of something to say. "I, uh, know a little about music too." He looked away and shoved his hands inside his pockets.

"Huh? Well, that's nice." I tilted my head, trying not to stretch the topic, as I could sense how uncomfortable this was for him.

His eyes scanned my face once again. I wonder what he thinks about me. Does he also think that I'm a weak creature?

"I'm Jungkook, by the way!" He said, putting his right hand forward. I looked at it for a second, before moving forward, and shaking hands with him.

"Min Yoongi."

***

Jungkook P.O.V

"Nice to meet you, Yoongi," I said, smiling slightly.

I noticed that his hands were big and thin, perfect for a pianist. His pale fingers were lined with rings, which was cold against my palm. 

"Likewise."

He's a man of few words.

"Which year are you in, if you don't mind telling, Yoongi?" I asked, trying to make small talk.

"Third year," Yoongi said shortly. "Uh. . . my hand."

He nodded to our hands which were embarrassingly still shaking awkwardly mid air.

"Whoops, sorry." I quickly retracted my hand.

Could this day get anymore awkward?

He chuckled softly. It was a pleasant sound to listen to.

I was about to open my mouth to say something, when a scream was heard outside.

"JUNGKOOK! WHERE ARE YOU FOR GODS' SAKE!"

It was Lisa. Oh shit.

The door suddenly slammed open, making us jump a little. Rosé and Lisa stood in the doorway, with very pink cheeks.

"There you are! We thought you had slipped and hit your head and fainted in the washroom!" Rosé exclaimed.

"Uh, why would that happen?" I asked.

"You know, because of all the stuff you guys leave behind in the washroom," Lisa said, shuddering. Yoongi was sending a death glare in her direction.

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad," I laughed. "What made you assume that Lisa?"

"Have you, perhaps, been in there, by any chance?" Yoongi spoke up, staring intently at Lisa.

"As a matter of fact, I—"

"That doesn't matter now! Let's be grateful that Jungkook didn't hit his head and is alive." Rosé suddenly interrupted Lisa's meek rebuttal, startling us all.

"Even I'm grateful that I'm completely fine," I said, emphasising the last words.

An awkward silence surrounded us and was broken by Yoongi, who cleared his throat and said, "Yeah, this was fun, but I'll take a leave now. See you around, Jungkook. You too, girls."

"Yeah, we need to get going too. See you, Yoongi." I waved my hand, which he completely ignored.

Unfortunately Rosé and Lisa didn't.

"He just—"

"Don't. Just don't," I said and went out the door. I heard the girls laughing inside and followed me.

_____________________________________________

A / N

[241121,, this chapter has been revamped.]

A little more insight to Yoongi's past :]

Hope y'all liked the chapter!!

Don't be a silent reader, and vote 😃🔪
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~ VeXo 💜
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