The Seven Passengers (BTSxTitanic)

Chapter 16: Yoongi

I push the short brandy glass away. It should be empty after having four refills. My hands should be shaking by now, but they're steady as a rock as I press the piano keys. The sound echoes in the empty crystal dining room.

I've always been able to handle strong drinks, and for a while I showed off my talent. That was all before I went to one nightclub that ended my public drinking. That night is still fuzzy, but one moment has been burned in my mind, so much that I can't drink in front of others without feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt.

The piano sounds distant as I play. That's obvious. I'm not giving it my all. My notebook is sitting beside me, patiently watching and waiting for me to flip through the pages. Those pages hold my greatest love and fear.

The doors open and I turn to see Jimin enter with a sweet smile. 

Speak of the devil. 

He walks toward me, a white sweater so big it covers his hands, leaving small fingers peeking out. I can almost forget what he really is.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who practices in the morning," he steps on stage with me, his eyes fixing on my drink. "And I'm not the only one who thinks mornings are hard."

I shrug. "I've had better, and worst." Out of habit, I slide the glass away as Jimin suddenly takes a seat next to me. It's a surprise, but not unwelcome.

"May I?" Jimin gestures to the drink. I would have thought his taste would have been more fruity, sweeter. My taste is bitter, just as I like it. I give him the glass and watch his face twist as he swallows. "That's strong."

"It's not for lightweights," I say a bit more colder than I intended. Jimin doesn't seem to mind. He focuses on the music sheets in front of me and looks at the piano.

"You would have thought I would know how to play this by now, huh?" he chuckles. Jimin's hands rise out of the sweater sleeves as he lightly touches the piano keys. A tiny sound comes from the piano.

"Want me to teach you?"

Jimin pauses. "Really?"

"Why not?" I take his hands and place them on the keys. "See? Each white key is a letter. It goes from A to G." Jimin's hands wiggle under mine and I wonder if I'm holding them too tight. He doesn't seem to mind.

Jimin presses each key from left to right. He must be a listener, a player who relies on listening rather than reading the sheet music like me. Jimin laughs as I tell him to hit two keys on my signal while I play a short solo on the left.

I can't remember a time I was this excited with a piano. But maybe it's not just the piano that I like. Jimin has slid closer to me, only an inch keeps us apart before our knees can touch. He's like a magnet, drawing me in so much I mess up on the last part of my solo.

Jimin laughs, but not at me. I feel my cheeks rising as I laugh with him. I don't recognize my own laugh, it's been so long. Jimin throws himself at me in a giggling fit and I catch him in my arms.

A thud erupts and we halt until I realize it was the notebook that fell. Jimin bends over, a slip of skin showing at the mercy of his sweater. I can't look away.

It doesn't occur to me that he's picking up the notebook until it's too late.

I snatch the notebook before he can flip through. Startled, Jimin raises both his hands. "Whoa! What was that about?"

Nothing. "Nothing."

Jimin pauses and for a second I think of making a run for it. I'm not the most athletic person on this ship, but I can try to jump across tables like his friend Taehyung did. Hell, maybe I could be better.

"All right," he shrugs. Jimin places his hands back where they were and starts over like it never happened. His laughs are softer and his smile is smaller. Goddammit. It figures I would be the one to scare him. Of course it would be me.

"Will you ever show me what's in there?" Jimin asks softly.

I want to say yes. I want to show him every page I stayed up writing late in the many nights. I want to see what his reaction would be. Would he be flattered? Concerned? Livid? Most of all, I want to rid myself of the one secret that keeps me swimming in brandy.

"Maybe," is all I can say.

Jimin nods and continues to practice on the piano, this time taking my hands and guiding them with his. My mind is slowing, taking in the fact that I'm holding hands with Park Jimin. The Park Jimin. God, his hands are so soft.

"How was that?" he asks with huge, anticipating eyes. I forget how he's still a kid at heart. Still learning new things. Still has a life ahead of him.

"Perfect."

But I didn't hear anything.