5. Ashes

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Wednesday, 4th. March. 2015

It'd been a tiering long day filled with classes. The last being one for performance studies, an elective I'd chosen for the semester.

I found it interesting, communication in relation to audiences and performers. The topic of parasocial interactions to be more specific. For the elective a group assignment was given, so, I'd stayed back with some classmates to map out the project and work on it with them.

By the time we decided to wrap it up and continue at another time it was getting late.
Nearing 9 pm by the looks of my phone screen.

After packing up I bid them goodnight and headed down a flight of stairs to the ground floor of the building. The halls were empty, no one else around. And, for the most part they were silent, that was until I reached the last of the steps and continued to walk past the rooms of the music studios.

The faint sound of a piano melody drifted in the air, calling me to it. Like a pied piper of sorts, it was soft and enticing, pulling me closer to its center. As I went the sweet sauntering of the keys became clearer.

I found myself starting at a wooden door, ajar, the number 28 plastered across it.
Is this wrong? Should I walk away?

But, my feet wouldn't let me. I was unable to turn my back from such a beautiful sound. Discarding my inner confliction, I throw caution to the wind and lean in closer to the crack of the door.

Inside, there's a guy seated at a keyboard. His fingers dancing over the keys being the origins of that sweet yet saddening tune. His eyes lightly closed, as though lost in emotion. Somewhere else, far far away. I lean closer, so enveloped by him that I accidentally moved the door and it made a creek.

My heart sinks. The moment he heard the sound he looked over, eyes narrowing in my direction. I didn't stand a chance at backing away, escaping before he got up and pulled open the door.

"Who's there-" He stops, falters. Detest crossing his features as he looks down at me, I'm such an idiot.

"I'm so sorry, it's just, the melody was so beautiful." I grabbed at straws to try and explain my creepy actions, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. I wasn't some kind of weird voyeur.

"Don't do it again. You should get out of here, it's getting late." His voice dropped to a cold rasp. Sharp words hitting me in the chest. Eye's coldly searching me for a moment.

I knew I shouldn't have been peeping on him but, did that really warrant such a hurtful response?

"Sorry..." I mumbled. As he gazed at me with such intensity I held my breath, then, he shut the door in my face.

As I trudged back home feeling dejected by my encounter, the melody of the tune he played still floated in my head. I hummed it lightly, and, even though he seemed like a jerk, there was no denying the way he played piano had swayed my soul.

After I got home I took a shower and got ready for bed, despite being exhausted I went to check my emails as my last task of the day before resting. To my surprise, a little '1' sat in my inbox. It was a reply to the application I'd sent.

I pushed passed my nerves and clicked into the email and began to read. I was expecting to see 'Sorry to inform you..' but, I nearly choked on air. By some miracle it was a message of acceptance along with some information about an introductory seminar for new employees being held this weekend.

I sat there, staring at the email as it dawned on me, I'd got the job. I secretly thanked the universe for showing me a ray of kindness amidst all the bad luck I usually seemed to have. Part of me wanted to cry, just out of genuine happiness. If there was one thing that was important to me, it was my passion for writing music. And this opportunity was a step further towards my dreams.


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Memories - Yoongi's Piece:

25th.September.2013

A week had passed since Jia woke up from her surgery.

I stopped by the hospital to see her each day since then.
But, every time I was met with the same question.

It's tearing my heart out, ripping it to shreds, hearing her ask who I am. Day after day.
Whoever wrote such a tragic story into being was fucking heartless.

No, it was my own doing. I was so caught up in my own pain that I was blinded to hers.
It was my responsibility to be there for her. I failed.
And now, we're suffering the price.

Maybe she was better off.
Better without us bringing all this shit, pain and suffering into her life.

Wasn't it us that caused it to begin with?

Our fault she was defiled by that fucking piece of shit Dae-Sung.
Our fault she had to watch people get killed.
Our fault she was put in danger, up until the very end.

She was better off not knowing about any of it.
Not having to hurt anymore.

With each day the agonising truths pile up.
Lead my mind into spirals of conflict. 

I don't know how much longer I can take this shit in all honesty.

Were my visits, my attempt to go there every day and introduce myself for her benefit.
Or, was it my selfishness and desperation to have her back.

Giving up decisively also counts as courage.
If I really love her, I need to let her go.

My knuckles hurt from the rage I'd taken out after leaving the hospital that afternoon, the bloody scratches stung as the night air hit it. I stumble through the back ally behind the hospital, crying, laughing like a fucking madman. Her face etched in my mind, I wanted to hold on to it, to her.

But I can't.

For her sake, I need to tear the sentiments out and burn them.

Burn them all for her.
Until not even the ashes remain.

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