cold • jungkook

四点一

comfort | 安慰

↳ "No matter how many people care about you, she thought, if you can't be open with them about who you truly are, you're still alone."
Diane Chamberlain, The Silent Sister

[listen with youtube audio]

A POPPY represents consolation.

the only form of solitude and consolation yoongi could ever get, was once from an auburn piano, located in the corners in the house of his forsaken youth.

he hadn't actually liked a brown block of wood that produced sounds and had strings in it. but that was, not until his mother passed away.

he received it as a gift from his mother on his 5th birthday; the piano was way taller than him back then, and he remembered struggling to seat properly on the leather seat.

he gently presses a finger down the white jade keys, than the ebony ones. each key produced a different tone of sound, and the feeling was prodigious, knowing that each key only sauntered when his fingers stroked them.

he plays a few notes here and there, and his mother chuckles, taking a seat beside him. do you want to hear a proper melody? her voice is sweeter than honey and warmer than a mild fire, lets play one melody yeah? and than we'll go fetch your father from the train station like we always do on evenings.

the melody was simply too divine for words to even describe it; he later learned the name of the piece, view of silence by joe hisashi. that was the song his mother had repeatedly played on the little radio by the window when she was pregnant with him.

but that was the last time yoongi had ever seen his mother play; for he started learning to play the magnificent instrument himself too.

elementary school, and he stopped playing for awhile. for that was because his parents started quarreling frequently. the tunes he played only annoyed them further, causing them to shout at him to go to his room.

the evening walks from the train station with his father after his work and back to his family home became less and less frequent now, to the point where his mother wouldn't even mention about it to him anymore.

he lets dust gather in layers and layers atop polished wood, grime between forgotten keys.

14 years old, and he finally was a good head taller than the bronze wood. he stares at the dusty piano, hand clutching protectively around his mother's funeral photograph.

'hey mom,' he inaudibly sighs, 'i'll take good care of little piano here, and i will take care of dad too; his job is a little stressful lately, and he has been staying out late quite often now.'

he gingerly cleans the faded keys, the grimy pedals, and than fixes the run down exterior. he re-polishes it, before returning his mother's photo to it's rightful position; the top of the piano she bought him.

he awkwardly seats back onto the leather seat he once struggled to seat on, and carefully flips open the cover. he presses a cautious and timid note, groaning when he realized the keys were long under-tuned.

yoongi, his mother smiles, do you want to hear another melody?

he jumps upon hearing his mother's voice. tears threatening to spill over the fragile dams of his eyes upon setting his eyes on the silhouette of his mother.

'm-mom,' he chokes, and he quickly stands from the seat in order to get a better look, 'mom is that r-really you?'

the faded silhouette of his mother doesn't reply. she moves from her position near his bedroom frame, the same place she always stayed and watch with pride whenever he was practicing his tunes.

taking a seat, she rests her hands delicately on the pieces of ivory and onyx.

your father really liked this piece, so you should too. i haven't played in a very long time, so do forgive me of my mistakes my dear.

her voice was still nectarous and affectionate, but the warmth in it had a hint of melancholia, regret, and apology.

the melody she played was the same piece she first played for him; but the original tune was changed slightly, with different renditions to each line. the once enlivening tune was now sorrowful, compunctious, melancholic.

he swore he hadn't cried so hard in his life before; his mother's apologetic and sadden smile came into his view, her frail hands ruffling his tousled charcoal locks saying i have to go now, love.

18 years and the brown piano located in the fifth music room down the hallway looked too familiar like the one he had back home.

and the girl's curious eyes that peeked on him a few days ago, looked too oddly familiar like someone that once gave him comfort.

roughly edited i guess tho theres still grammar mistakes