Quiet | BTS ✓

53

Aria and Hoseok help Yoongi into his apartment, his bruised hand cradled against his chest, just against his shattered heart.

Yoongi's uncle had to stay back at the school to fill out some paperwork since he was a witness to the crime, so Aria texted Hoseok to ask for a ride to Yoongi's apartment, and he picked them up with no hesitation.

After sitting him down onto his couch, the pair sit on the table in front of the blonde man, watching him carefully for any signs of life from the man they both adore.

But though his best self bloomed beautifully as he moved into the light after so many years, his worst self has come forth, causing his light to wither away as quickly as his piano did in the fire that consumed all hope he had come to know.

He couldn't think. He couldn't move. He could barely breathe.

The only thing he can feel is a slight tingle in his fingertips as they long to caress the keys he's found solace in for so long.

That piano was more than an instrument to Yoongi; it was an ally. It was a friend. It was his partner. It was his diary.

That piano was a symbol of his hope.

And now that his piano will never play another beautiful note, Yoongi fears that he too will succumb to the flames of darkness licking at his skin as they threaten to pull him under.

If something so beautiful can be so easily destroyed, why couldn't he?

If something as ethereal as that piano could crumble beneath something as destructive as flames, why should he feel hope that he will escape unharmed?

Aria watches with fear in her eyes as she sees her boyfriend in such a state; she has seen only kindness and hope in his eyes. She didn't know him when he was lost and alone.

This boy, the one in front of her, is the true form of the boy who had his heart broken by his own parents. The boy who felt so alone and trapped in a never-ending spiral of disappointment.

Aria nudges Hoseok and then points to Yoongi's keyboard and Hoseok frowns.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Hoseok says quietly as Yoongi silently stares at his bruised hand, the fingers of his other hand tracing over the marks made by his act of revenge.

He wishes he could feel the pain of the bruises. Just so he can feel something besides the pain in his chest and the tingle in his fingertips.

He keeps having to remind his hands that they cannot have what they ache for.

Aria points to the keyboard again, more urgently this time.

"His hand is hurt," Hoseok argues. "He's not going to be able to play."

Aria glares at Hoseok for a moment before standing up and trying to move Yoongi to the keyboard by herself, but Yoongi's legs refuse to work.

He's utterly numb.

Except for his heart and his fingertips that are begging for the familiar embrace of their old friend.

Hoseok sighs in defeat before he gets up and helps Aria drag Yoongi over to his keyboard, plopping him down into the seat situated in front of the instrument.

Aria reaches for his hands and tenderly places them onto the keys, urging him to do the one thing he has always done to get his emotions out into the air instead of letting them cause a storm inside his own mind.

Yoongi blinks a few times as his fingers touch the coolness of the keys. It's not the same; these keys feel artificial and new. Not worn and loved like the ones he craves for.

But this keyboard, as he has to remind himself, is his too. He never felt emotionally connected to this keyboard, as it is just an instrument he bought to keep himself busy with whilst being away from the instrument he truly loves.

But, with the bigger picture hazy in Yoongi's mind, he cannot make himself remember that it is the music he loves, and that it's much more than just one piano that makes his heart beat.

He cannot make himself remember that though he does not have that piano anymore, he still has the music.

He's too lost in the darkness tonight; he's let it consume him. Just for tonight.

So, he begins to play.

The undeniable heartbreak escapes from Yoongi's mind into the air surrounding the three; none of them expect any lingering hope in this piece being played tonight.

Hoseok goes to sit on the couch and give Yoongi his space while he plays; Aria stands close to him, making sure he knows that she is there, physically and emotionally as his shattered heart tells its story, piece by broken piece.

Yoongi winces in pain as the adrenaline begins to leave his body, his bruised hand beginning to ache.

He doesn't stop. He can't. This is the only way he knows how to deal with the darkness threatening to engulf him.

He listens as the melody echoes around him, embracing him as the music always does, but it doesn't feel quite the same.

It's like the music itself is sad for the loss of such a beautiful piano.

Yoongi surprises himself with the piece; there is no hint of anger or rage in the notes he plays. After realizing what had been done, Yoongi had felt a rage like he had never felt before in his life.

But after attacking that man and barely escaping assault charges, every part of his soul was purged of the anger and was replaced by an ever-consuming agony.

Yoongi's tears fall onto his hands as the song ends, and he feels his body sag in exhaustion from carrying the weight of the darkness in his heart from the moment he realized what had happened to the piano.

He almost feels silly being so distraught over an object; he fears that those around him would never understand that he viewed that piano as a friend.

But he realizes who is around him as he feels small arms wrap around his torso, and he immediately feels guilty for ever thinking that she could ever misunderstand him.

"I'm gonna give you two some time alone," Hoseok says. "I'll come with your car in the morning, Yoongs."

Hoseok comes over to Yoongi and squeezes his shoulder in comfort, sending him a soft smile before kissing Aria's forehead and leaving the apartment.

Yoongi turns around to face Aria, his head hung low as he stares at his now throbbing hand.

The hand that once played the most beautiful of melodies on the most beautiful of instruments.

The hand that is now painted a beautiful but tragic mixture of lavender and violet as the bruises blossom further on his hand, spreading as quickly as the despair consuming his soul.