"Dad, hey." I greeted him as I saw him approaching.
We had agreed to meet for breakfast. The only time in the day he was available to do anything. He would head on to the company from here. The same routine for the past seven months or so.
After he and Mr. Jeon signed their contract, it took my father a few weeks to be privy to the company's affairs. There had only been two small cases at the time, and he won them without a hitch.
"Hi, honey." he greeted back, a smile playing on his lips that I hadn't seen in a long time.
The truth was that he and I had some sort of disconnect due to marriage and his debts, which had placed a burden on his shoulders greater than either of us had had the strength to bear. But as much as the new job in Jeon Coop narrowed his existence as an attorney, it had still served as a chance for him to get back on his feet.
I still found it atrocious of Mr. Jeon to have taken advantage of my father's financial instability for his own twisted benefits, but I couldn't complain for it had been a win-win kind of situation.
However, my father no longer resented the fact that I had practically sacrificed a part of myself in order to prevent a greater wreck for our family. I had come to realize why Matokai Riku had been distraught, and rightly so.
Every father wanted to keep his family noble with his own efforts, but it hadn't been a competition between him and me in the first place. We were both now okay with me being married. It didn't portray the end of the world. I had gotten used to being Jeon Reva.
So I was glad that whatever ice existed between us had more or less melted.
"How are you?" he asked, pushing aside the bouquet of flowers in the middle of the table so he could see my face better.
The last few months had done him good. He no longer had red-shot eyes, which made me worry that they could soon become chronically burned into his body. Insomnia also seemed to be off the long list of issues he was fighting physically.
Every time Raiden talked about them starting to have dinner together again in the evenings, it brought a sense of relief to me and I felt more at ease about it. Always having a part of my mind in my old home was tiring, to say the least.
I smiled. "I'm fine. Same old, same old."
"Everything's all right over there?" he raised an eyebrow.
I didn't know what to answer so I pondered my response for a few seconds. It wasn't like it was torture and besides Yoongi and Dalrae, I wasn't really close to anyone. My husband was floating somewhere in the middle. I didn't even want to get started on Mrs. Jeon.
"Yeah, we're all still getting to know each other. But it's good, no worries." I went with the safest answer and it seemed to make my dad happy enough so he took a sip of his water.
The waitress took our order and strolled away, her short ponytail swaying with her steps. I liked this restaurant. It served delicious breakfast options and wasn't pompous or fancy.
"How's work?" I asked then, genuinely curious about it.
My father had his own office in the Jeon company and a new assistant. I wondered how he was coping with the organizing since he had been used to the way I handled things before I moved out. I hadn't done much, but he had always appreciated my help.
"I still need a bit of adjustment because, being a large company, they have different expectations than our law firm, but I'm getting along fine," he replied. "It's a little different than I was used to, though."
"You've always been good at your job, I'm sure you'll do well there too." I encouraged him and he nodded in appreciation.
Then he pressed his lips into a firm line, his eyes now looking a bit sadder. I knew what that meant. But we both also knew it was the course of life. If you had kids, you knew they would eventually leave.
"I miss you, honey. I'm sorry I was so unfair to you in the beginning. And—"
His next words tingled in my head before he uttered them, but I stopped him. This reunion wasn't for talking about past mistakes. We needed to look forward.
"I know, I miss you too," I said instead. He had to know what I felt deep inside and that our feelings were mutual.
"Come here," he murmured, holding out his arm. I grinned before sliding over to him on the leather seat and he placed his hand firmly on my shoulder. He kissed my temple. Then he sighed deeply. "It's almost that time of year."
I hated to admit it, but I hadn't seen those words coming. They made me tense, but I tried not to show any of it.
"Yeah," I muttered.
I felt his eyes on me, so I looked up at him. "Do you want to go together? Like we always have."
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I forced a smile. "Of course."
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Staring out of the balcony, I observed the clear sky. It had rained a lot in the last few days, but today the stars were showing. Jungkook was in his study doing whatever he usually did, which I had never bothered to ask. So I decided to go up to the roof.
Dinner was thankfully over so I decided not to take my phone with me and instead left it plugged into the charger. A jacket was needed to protect me from the cold wind though, so I grabbed one from the closet.
I walked down the hall but paused in front of the stairs leading up to the roof when I heard music echoing through the quiet house. It was piano sounds that filled my ears, coming from the music room below.
Knowing who the player was, I leaned my back against the wall. I had never interrupted, knowing he liked his privacy. Yoongi was sometimes an enigma, but most of the time you could get a word or two out of him.
Melody, so gentle yet so soulful continued to reach me. It was crazy how much you could express with a few keys, how much they could convey your feelings for you. No wonder there was even a form of therapy that worked with music because it really fed the soul sometimes.
Not once did his fingers slip as he blessed my evening with Hans Zimmer's masterpiece before expertly bringing the piece to completion. I waited, too curious to continue my way to the roof without having found out if he would play another piece.
But he did not, so I ascended the stairs. Closing the door behind me, I sat down on one of the loungers as usual and let the cold night blow my hair out of my face. I typically came up here when I was feeling lonely, but today it was simply fulfilling a habit.
I gazed at the stars as I then heard the door open and close behind me. Footsteps that I could perfectly match to their owner approached before coming to a stop in front of the lounger next to me.
"I heard you playing the piano," I commented casually. No hello or how are you was necessary between us, so acquainted were we by now. "Was that a new piece you learned?"
"Yeah," he confirmed. A cigarette already lingered between his lips, which he then lit up. Same routine. We had a few minutes until he would finish smoking it.
I gave him a quick glance, a cloud of smoke now rising into the night sky. "How long have you been playing?"
"Since I was little," he replied. "Stopped when I got to high school but started up again a while back."
I hummed in understanding.
The silence between me and Yoongi was never odd. He was a man who co-existed with you, sometimes offering his advice when he felt like you needed it. It was nice to sit next to him because he made you feel like you could talk about anything with him.
A good listener he was as well even though I tended not to complain much about things that actually called for complaint. He knew what was going on in the minds of others. Sometimes I thought he was a jeweler of people.
Sometimes he made you make assumptions about him too because he wasn't an open book. Most of the time I didn't ask even when curiosity sparkled, which I didn't often possess.
"I wanted to be a composer when I was ten," he said. His cigarette was now half burned, but he didn't knock the ash off.
I smiled at the idea of Yoongi standing in front of an orchestra, swinging a stick. The vision was sincere in a way, but I knew it would not come true.
I didn't doubt Yoongi's talent. After all, I had heard him play on more than one occasion. Sometimes he played pieces I didn't know, but I couldn't place whether they were his or I was just musically uneducated to name it.
I also didn't ask him why he had decided against this career. A son making music and gambling with his future by giving up a permanent position in the family business? Yes, that didn't exist for a lot of people.
"For someone who started playing again recently, I'd buy your tickets," I joked. I had never asked Yoongi if he would feel comfortable enough to play if I were in the same room.
"It's been longer than you think. I think it's two different interpretations of a while back because you're like half my age." he teased.
"No, actually you could be my grandpa," I said with a straight face and that made him laugh more. I couldn't help but join.
His cigarette was already smoked but Yoongi still remained seated. Our laughter died out and we stared ahead. I noticed the heaviness in his features even if he didn't really show any of it.
"Jokes aside, you really do play very well." I complimented, nudging him with my shoulder. He swung to the side and a shy smile broke free.
He shrugged. "I'm taking lessons."
"Oh?" that surprised me, but I wasn't involved enough in his personal life to know where he spent his free time. "Your teacher must be very good."
"Um. Yeah." he scratched the back of his neck. "She's the best."
Oh.
I couldn't help but grin. Maybe it was an assumption made too soon, but his escaping eyes as he said it before clearing his throat only confirmed it. It was a gut feeling.
Still, I approached cautiously. I wouldn't be able to handle Yoongi shutting me out just because I stuck my nose into matters that weren't my business - or worse, weren't correct.
"I can tell by the way you play that she's a passionate pianist." Safest answer.
"Very passionate. Sometimes it feels surreal listening to her." it made me happy for some unknown reason watching Yoongi share more of himself. And listening to him talk about his teacher.
"Really? I'd love to hear her play." I said.
"Yeah." he nodded. "She's a year older than me, but she plays it as if she's been doing it for centuries."
I smiled at that. I had never heard Yoongi talk so enthusiastically about anything. It almost seemed like he was proud of her, whoever his teacher was.
"It's smooth and rich, but sometimes fierce and temperamental." he continued.
I nudged him again with my shoulder. "Are we still talking about music and pianos?"
Now it was he who laughed, one side of his mouth tugging upward. It wasn't symphonies or Beethoven that made Yoongi happy. I wondered if that was why I was hearing him play more often lately.
"Maybe you can compose something together one day," I hinted. It was an innocent suggestion. One that seemed to occupy his mind as he grew quiet.
That's what life was, wasn't it? A symphony composed by yourself. Sometimes calm interludes reigned. Sometimes dramatic cacophonies caught you off guard.
Life was dynamic like the tides. It drew in and it pushed out. Everyone was the conductor of their own rhythm and harmony. And it was your choice who you wanted to keep composing the symphony with for the rest of your life.
He stared out into the night. The longest conversation I'd had with him had taken a turn I hadn't seen coming. But I liked it.
I wanted to see Yoongi happy because in a family where he got little attention as the oldest son, it brought a smile to my face to imagine someone else seeing the sincere, trustworthy, down-to-earth nature of him.
He deserved that. But his next words burst that bubble.
"I don't think that I'm meant to compose anything." he smiled sadly.
I frowned, his lack of confidence was confusing although he had talked so beautifully about it. "Why?" I asked.
"She..." he took a deep breath. Shook his head. "She's married," he said.
There was no bitterness in his voice in any way, but I wasn't blind to see the hurt in his eyes as he shot me a quick look.
I felt bad bringing the whole subject this far. Sometimes it was better to shut up. But maybe it would do him good to finally share this with someone who wouldn't judge him for it.
"Yoongi, I—"
"It's okay," he reassured. "It's nobody's fault. Life was never in my favor anyway."
I didn't know what to say.
The smile didn't reach his eyes as I turned to him and said nothing, yet I offered him my silent presence. I would never know how it felt, but I would offer a listening ear, even though I knew Yoongi would never speak of it again.
I watched his hand wander as if he was thinking about reaching for his pack of cigarettes again, but he stroked it along his pants instead. The silence was heavy and lingered on both our shoulders. His secret was safe with me.
"I'm going back inside," he announced after we had sat together for several minutes in the cold night.
"So am I." I followed suit, both of us now getting to our feet.
He let me walk through the door first and we wished each other a good night as we parted ways.
Back in the bedroom, I hung the jacket back in the closet, the freshness of the night now clinging to the fabric. The water in the bathroom was running, which made me assume that Jungkook must have entered the bedroom moments before I did.
Checking my phone for messages, I flopped down on the bed. It was still the best feeling and I didn't sympathize with Jungkook in the least that he was sleeping on the sofa. A bit cruel, but my selfishness didn't plague me as I stretched my legs freely.
The bathroom door opened after a few minutes and out stepped Jungkook. Only a towel was tied around his waist, drops of water sliding down his torso. He must have thought I wasn't here, because he usually got out fully clothed.
"You're back," he commented as I withdrew my eyes from him and stepped into the bathroom myself.
The smell of his clean soap wafted in the air and it felt warmer due to the steam. I brushed my teeth quickly as it made it difficult to breathe.
"Where have you been?" he asked, now dressed and drying his wet hair with a towel.
"Why? Do you have separation anxiety?" I snickered, applying my skincare.
"No, but your disheveled hair makes you look like you're having a midlife crisis," he shot back.
Indeed, my hair was a mess from the wind. I brushed it through carefully.
"Had too many human interactions today," I pointed out. "Can't add your first-grader comebacks, too."
I heard him chuckle as I shoved the brush back into the drawer before turning to look at him. He was now sitting on the sofa, his feet crossed on the small table in front of it.
This banter between us would probably never stop, but if I had to be honest, it was starting to annoy me less. It still did - just to clarify - but not in a mean-spirited and detrimental way. Hard to explain as well as hard to comprehend.
"Oh, where would you be without my comebacks? Just admit it's the highlight of your day." He smirked in his cocky manner.
The way his eyes were filled with glee and amusement only added to it. I could tell when he was in a good mood. His facial expression showed it in the form of lazy gazing eyes and the way his cheeks dimpled from his grin.
He tapped his phone against his thigh, the gray material straining against the muscles. I raised my eyebrows before snorting.
"Please, I'm restless without them," I joked. "I hope you never get tired of it."
He shook his head. "Don't worry. I can go all day long." he rasped. "And all night."
I stopped to stare at him. The smirk was still present, but his eyes had changed. It was a game that had already taken a different turn.
I laughed. "All night? I'll give you thirty seconds, max."
Seeing the innuendo clearly, he followed suit, now raising his own eyebrows in surprise and inquisitiveness. I honestly didn't know what we were even talking about anymore.
"Your past experiences sound like fun," he mused. There was a different gleam in his eyes as he breathed out through his nose afterward.
I also didn't know if he was interested in knowing that I had indeed had to finish the job with a hot pink vibrator that others hadn't been able to achieve. But a confident part of me knew he was just saying that to get a laugh out of it.
"Just saying what's true for most. Many things have been made great with the right kind of advertising only to disappoint at the end." I waved a dramatic hand. "Anticlimactic."
"I would see this as an offense if our company was an advertising agency." he nodded to himself. Adjusted on the sofa. Angled a leg. "Or is this a challenge?"
"Do I need to remind you who got the bed? Bets and challenges aren't your strength, I would say." I snuggled into the sheets and purposely grinned in his direction.
He smirked even more. "Oh, I'm confident about winning this time."
I sighed dramatically, which made him smile. I didn't want to know about his past lovers or hook-ups. "Good night."
Pulling the covers over my torso, I softened my pillow only to see Jungkook staring at me. "No answer is definitely a point for me," he muttered in satisfaction before sprawling out on the sofa as far as his massive body allowed.
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A/N: what are we even talking about at this point🫣