The Silence We Fill | MYG

Chapter Nineteen

Ernst Mielck: Romance

Cello and Piano

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"Min, you look. . ." I smile, laughing softly. 

The blue haired boy smirks, holding his hands out in a shrug like motion. "I know. I'm Min Yoongi, I look good in anything." He tells me before snickering.

His black suit fit him so well, the clothing making him look so professional. Especially since the last few days, he had been in over sized shirts and shorts. Not to mention the fact that his hair was barely groomed. But now, his hair was was fixed as if stylists themselves had done it. And now, soft makeup adorned his features.

He looked perfect.

"Well I don't know if that's true but-" I snicker as I trail off, seeing him want to call out but not wanting to be rude either.

"It must suck to be blind." He says instead of the words that I know include swearing and playfully sharp words. 

I snort. "Don't say that about yourself. After all, you haven't complimented this." I murmur, waving my free hand down to my outfit.

While I refused to wear a dress, I put on a skirt and blouse. Same as the town competition. Though I was fixed far more nicely, my hair styled in the most complicated way I could make it. I also wore makeup, hoping for it to noticeable even if it was natural.

"Ah, right. Because we love a girl who fishes for compliments." He jokes, laughing when I lightly push him. 

Though we quickly become serious when they call another contestant to the stage.

At the moment, the two of us sat on a bench near the entrance of the stage. We could hear the music playing and the sound of others chattering to their partners. Most conversations were full of worry as they spoke of the possibility of failing.

Hint: Most.

The present conversation was the one of bragging and gloating of how well the team would do. Jisoon and Youngseo. Their young faces were full of confidence, so much that it could be described as childish. But they were children, it would only be right that they did have such young tendencies.

"We should go easy, they don't stand a chance." Jisoon snickers, causing Youngseo to roll his eyes but nod in agreement.

That phrase was only just the tip of the iceberg. A lot of their words consisted of calling names to certain teams. I would clench my teeth whenever they threw a dirty word to some innocent player who simply wanted to collect themselves. Yoongi just watched with abandon, simply huffing under his breath disapprovingly. 

"Min, what's our number again?" I ask quietly, hoping to not gain the two teens attention. They hadn't called at us yet, and I was beyond grateful.

"Fourteen. We're dead in the middle."

The two of us wince at the words.

Anyone who played at a competition knew the middle was the worst. Either be the very first, or somewhere last. Because anything in between would be, most likely, forgotten.

"It'll be fine. We just have to play like we've practiced." I murmur, my optimism contrasting his realistic facts. But thankfully, Yoongi is quiet instead of bursting the bubble. 

"Number thirteen, please come to the stage."

We were next.

Yoongi and I look at each other before I crack a small smile. "Don't worry. We'll do fine."