VIRTUOSO - A MYG Story

CON FORZA

CON FORZA

With Force

I woke up the next morning, alone in Yoongi's bed, my bare limbs still tangled in the sheets. After throwing on some clothes, (I knew that overnight bag would come in handy...) I followed the hallway to the kitchen, my bare feet padding on the creaky hardwood, and I paused to take in the breathtakingly spectacular view out the bay window.

It had snowed. A lot.

"Looks like we're not going anywhere for awhile," Yoongi said quietly, coming up behind me to slip his arms around my waist, joining me to look out the window.

"How many inches do you think that is?" I asked, seeing that the snow had piled up nearly as high as the mailbox at the end of the drive.

"Supposedly we got almost three feet of snow. Can't leave for awhile because the county won't get out here to plow the snow off these back roads until at least midday tomorrow." he replied, taking a deep breath and releasing his embrace to stretch his arms.

"Oh, so you mean I'll have to spend the next 24 hours cooped up in the same house with you two? What ever will I do?" I playfully pouted at him before he grabbed my hand, quietly laughing, pulling me into the kitchen with him.

After we shared breakfast that morning, Yoongi, Hope, and I decided to spend some time in the rehearsal room. We did a full run-through, my first time singing all of the songs on the setlist, in preparation for my upcoming "official" debut, which was only a few days away.

"Alright, now let's go back and run through Bei Mir again. This time, I want you to focus on seducing your audience. You need to play a role as you sing, and your role... is a jazz siren." Yoongi instructed from the piano bench, in a business-like tone.

He was extremely intimidating. It reminded me of my college professors during juries*, and instantly gave me the kind of anxiety I hadn't felt since my last year of Conservatory studies.

We started again.I had only just finished singing the first verse, and Yoongi already cut in.

"Stop!" he called out, halting the music, "You sound as sensual as a plank of wood. Do it again."

Ouch.

"Yoongi, do you really think..." Hobi started to interject, questioning Yoongi's abrasive tone.

"Again." Yoongi commanded firmly.

"I could say bella, bella, even say wunderbar..." I sang, trying to look and sound more sexy, more alluring, as I'd been instructed to do. My thoughts were hammering in my head, tripping over each other, and I stumbled over a line.

"STOP!"

"Yoongi, I can't do this. I'm so stressed out."

"I know you are. Performing is stressful. You have to learn to overcome this, Faye, or you'll never be able to do this." he almost scolded, saying it so matter-of-factly.

A soft expression came across his face when he realized how hurt I was.

Yoongi made his way over to me at my music stand, touching my shoulder so I would turn to face him.