The Silence We Fill | MYG

Chapter Five

Song Used: Fantasie-Impromptu in C# Minor, Op 66, Frederic Chopin

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I watch as he bows, saying his name softly before then sitting on the stool. He doesn't hesitate, his movements happening instantly one after another. As if a robot, remembering all the commands that someone coded in. He says something else, the piece if everyone is following the same format, and starts to play.

It starts with one ringing note before setting off into a decent pace. I would be amazed if it wasn't for his rigid figure. It wasn't one from being anxious, instead simply being still as his hands do all the work. They easily glide over all the keys, being so obviously experienced. 

He hit all the notes perfectly too, the tempo done so well it didn't seem human. I glance to the judges, who are all watching in seemingly amazement.

I almost laugh.

The exact opposite of my performance.

The pace slows quickly only for it to just as quickly return. 

I wonder what he looks like right now. Is he purely focused, like on the balcony? Eyes narrow, mouth firm, and gaze so set it's as if nothing else exists?

I don't know, and for some reason it aches at me when such an inhuman performance is being given.  Because every note, every ring, every move, is just as decisive as the beginning.

Is he not scared? Nervous? Worried?

 Maybe he is a machine, no emotion on his face as he simply taps all the notes he's probably practiced night and day for. 

 My thoughts distract me from the piece, and I barely notice when the last note is pressed. 

The only reason I do is because I see two of the stages stand, applauding in such a way that I'm sure all the rest of the pianists know they won't make it. How could they when someone so seemingly perfect just walked up? I stand up and peek around the curtain to see the place where people are sitting. Everyone simply sits, watching. 

Are they left as speechless as me?

I'm left with no answer when my attention is thrown to the boy who is now walking to me. Instantly I move back, watching as he enters the small room I'm in.

"Uhm, good job." I whisper, my voice so small that I don't even believe he heard me.

But he did, turning to give a small bow. "Thank you." He speaks in a deep voice, seeming to speak from the back of his throat from how there was a slight rough back to it. 

Min Yoongi.

So this was him.

Marsha comes up, breaking my thoughts and simply waving us over. 

I almost don't want to stand, my body feeling like lead now that all the adrenaline has left. Though I do force myself to, following after. Albeit I did lag behind. Marsha walked quickly, something I hadn't noticed before through my anxiety. 

I tried to hold my violin carefully too, remembering I had left the case back in the other room. It was hard to with my shaking fingers though, the instrument trembling along with it. 

I didn't think it was too bad though it seemed to catch the attention of Yoongi, who glanced back to me only for his eyes to travel to the grip on my violin.

"You shouldn't be so harsh on it." He murmurs. I'm caught off guard, my mouth silent as I simply watch him. I wasn't harsh on it. "You'll hurt it with how you play. It's reckless." 

A spark of anger flares through me though I try to push it down. But as I think it doesn't really help.

Reckless?

Harsh?

I treated my instruments with the upmost care, making sure they were never so much as scuffed. They were my friends, someone who helped me so much. And who was he to judge how I treated them?

"I don't know what you mean." I finally say, trying to not let my emotion slip through my voice. Instead I try to sound more blank, as if I just totally missed everything.

"You hit the strings too hard." This man has the audacity to try to explain, "Just move more softly. You'll hit all the notes you need to like that."

I glance down to my violin. It wasn't complaining when I played it. It helped me. I know everyone could hear what I meant to play. "I wasn't trying to hit all the notes." I say, making him tilt his head lightly. This causes the bangs on his head to all shift with the movement.

"You weren't trying to hit all the notes?" 

"I was playing my own song. I didn't need to hit all the notes you're thinking about." My jaw tightens lightly, my teeth wanting to clench together to hold annoyance that was building up in me.

Yoongi simply stays quiet after that, which I'm severely thankful for. But I can't really hold onto my anger now that he isn't speaking. Because a lot of people didn't agree with how I played music, and that was something I had come to understand over the years. And maybe he was just one of them. Though it still did slightly annoy me with how blatant he was being.

I glanced to violin.

I didn't work you too hard did I?

I didn't want to hurt it already when I had just begun to have it by my side. It was a friend now, someone who was supporting me to get to the top. You're not supposed to hurt friends like those.

I can't really be sad for long though as I realize we've entered the waiting room again. A few musicians are there, those who didn't watch the performance, but I could hear the rest ready to join, those who I'm sure did watch. 

And I'm right when I see the rest of the group walk into the room. When everyone settles I'm already setting my violin back into it's case, feeling a good amount of eyes on my back as I do. When I glance up I see the rest are on Yoongi, who is simply trying to ignore all of them. 

"Thank you for your performances and effort that you all gave today." Marsha starts to speak, taking everyone's gaze with her voice. I'm grateful for it. "As said before, the results will be given in a few days. We predict around two. If you do not get a phone call by those two days please call us. You may leave." She bows before exiting the room.

Yoongi is the first to start to exit despite the few people who are trying to speak to him. 

Almost the exact opposite of I who tries to thank everyone for the applause. Counting as I got no feedback from the actual judges, it was something I felt I actually needed. In terms of not feeling like I totally failed. So I owed them something. A lot, actually, it felt like. 

I didn't really hear a lot, their words mushed together and my eyes watching the door shut behind the mysterious man that didn't even seem man.

I sigh.

I suppose it was time to wait for the call.

End of Chapter Five