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I sighed and gave him the key.
I followed him to Jungkook's house. The rain was pounding down like a million tiny hammers, so loud that maybe Kook's human ears couldn't hear the thunder of the truck's engine. I watched his window, but he didn't come to look out. Maybe he wasn't there. There were no thoughts to hear.
It made me sad that I couldn't hear enough even to check on him-to make sure he was happy, or safe, at the least. Why don't I have his number so I could text him?
Jimin climbed in the back and we sped home. The roads were empty, and so it only took a few minutes. We trooped into the house, and then went to our various pastimes.
Hoseok and Yoongi were in the middle of an elaborate game of chess, utilizing eight joined boards-spread out along the glass back wall-and their own complicated set of rules. They wouldn't let me play; only Jimin would play games with me anymore.
Jimin went to his computer just around the corner from them and I could hear his monitors sing to life. Jimin was working on a fashion design project for Rosé's wardrobe, but Rosé did not join him today, to stand behind him and direct cut and color as Jimin's hand traced over the touch sensitive screens (Namjoon and I had had to tweak that system a bit, given that most such screens responded to temperature). Instead, today Rosé sprawled sullenly on the sofa and started flipping through twenty channels a second on the flat screen, never pausing. I could hear her trying to decide whether or not to go out to the garage and tune her BMW again.
Seokjin was upstairs, humming over a new set of blue prints.
Jimin leaned his head around the wall after a moment and started mouthing Hoseok's next moves- Hoseok sat on the floor with his back to him-to Yoongi, who kept his expression very smooth as he cut off Hoseok's favorite knight.
And I, for the first time in so long that I felt ashamed, went to sit at the exquisite grand piano stationed just off the entryway. I ran my hand gently up the scales, testing the pitch. The tuning was still perfect.
Upstairs, Seokjin paused what he was doing and cocked his head to the side.
I began the first line of the tune that had suggested itself to me in the car today, pleased that it sounded even better than I'd imagined.
Taehyung is playing again, Seokjin thought joyously, a smile breaking across his face. He got up from his desk, and flitted silently to the head of the stairs.
I added a harmonizing line, letting the central melody weave through it.
Seokjin sighed with contentment, sat down on the top step, and leaned his head against the banister. A new song. It's been so long. What a lovely tune.
I let the melody lead in a new direction, following it with the bass line.
Taehyung is composing again? Rosé thought, and her teeth clenched together in fierce resentment. In that moment, she slipped, and I could read all her underlying outrage. I saw why she was in such a poor temper with me. Why killing Jungkook Jeon had not bothered her conscience at all. With Rosé, it was always about vanity.
