Crossed Hearts (SugaKookie)

1

His fingers moved nimbly across the keys. He loved the way the sweet, somber sounds bounced off of the cream colored walls. He closed his eyes, taking in the darker tones and humming along softly.

Music.

Peace.

His fingers quickened, bringing his song to a crescendo before leveling out and fading the music into sweet nothingness. A whisper meant for his ears and his ears alone. He could hear the breathing of the man behind him. He didn't pay it much attention. The man was simply another member of the audience he called life.

His fingers came to a sudden halt, his eyes snapping open. A hand had been laid on his shoulder. Normally, people didn't disturb him while he played his music. He looked up into dark, chestnut colored eyes.

Namjoon.

Namjoon was taller than most Korean men. He was almost six feet tall. His hair had grown out in the past years, dyed blonde and looking rather stylish as it was partially swept back from his forehead. A few locks still fell into his eyes. He kept chuckling whenever anyone would point it out and tell them he was going to get a haircut soon. He was all deep voice, big, puffy lips and loud laughing. He was dressed casually, ripped, black jeans and a graphic tee of some overrated American band.

"That was amazing," he breathed.

Yoongi shook his head, "It wasn't finished."

He heard an small sound of embarrassment issue from Namjoon's lips. The man had always been a bit clumsy. It was his nature and Yoongi held nothing against him for it. It was simply one of his defining characteristics.

His fingers began moving once more. Softly. Slowly. A building of music and emotion that poured from his very heart. He heard Namjoon shift and sit back down somewhere behind him. His eyes fell closed, his voice coming back to hum. He had been working on this tune for awhile. He and Namjoon needed another track for the album they were putting together. If all went according to Yoongi's plan, this would be one of the star pieces.

He finished the melody, opening his eyes once more and taking a pen and pad into his hands that had been sitting on the floor. There were scribbles and notes all over the slightly crumpled pages. Yoongi had it with him at all time - he never knew when inspiration would strike him and he needed to be ready.

He flipped to a new page, the yellow paper and black lines staring back at him almost expectantly as he wrote a few notes. There were some changes that needed to be made to the melody and he wanted to remember them. He heard Namjoon shuffle around again, picking his coat up and yawning. He felt the urge to glance at the clock but stifled it. He needed to finish this song. It didn't matter what the time was.

"It's late, hyung. You should be going home, too." Namjoon's voice pulled him from his work.

He sighed, quickening his writing. It was barely legible now but Yoongi could still make it out. Namjon was usually right. He probably did need to get home and sleep.

Yoongi loved sleep.

He finished writing out his notes before slipping the pad into his backpack that was resting beside the piano. Taking one last, longing glance at the sleek white and black keys, he picked himself up and gathered his things. Namjoon patted his back, handing him his car keys with a tired smile. Yoongi's eyes wandered to the digital clock on the wall. It was well past midnight.

He chuckled under his breath, waving goodbye to Namjoon as he locked up their studio. It was cold outside. A wind blowing with an icy chill making Yoongi shiver under the folds of his coat. He pulled it tighter around himself, snuggling his nose into the collar to keep it slightly warm. he almost sighed in relief when his eyes landed on his car. It was parked under a street light, the light falling down dimly on the silver colored vehicle as if it was beckoning Yoongi to its warm confines.

Yoongi absentmindedly unlocked the back passenger side door. He usually just threw his backpack into the back seat so he wouldn't have to deal with it being up front and falling around when he turned corners. However, something stopped him from throwing his backpack into the seat.

There was a person laying there.