Yoongi POV
In Yoongi's 500 or so years, he didn't find interaction with humans all that appealing. Though, he supposed, interaction in general was not his forte. Aside from his six brothers, he hardly spoke to anyone.
Around the time of the Salem Witch Trials, it had become apparent that, although he and his brothers were not witches, they were still supernatural beings that the human world would not take kindly to. They were still young, less than a century each in age, and their bloodline had to be preserved. They had to hide their identities as vampires and become hidden to the outside world. That left one problem, though. How would they feed? So, they made a deal with a man and his family who, at that time, were struggling for survival. They would offer themselves up as a source of food to the brotherhood of vampires if and once they, the humans, became of age, as well as swear a vow of secrecy, and in exchange, the seven of them would offer his family any comfort they needed and desired, for generations to come. Not having much choice, the father agreed, and thus started the bond between the brotherhood of vampires and their human companions.
Yoongi wasn't really taken with the idea from the beginning. Humans were vain, selfish creatures, and were extremely delicate. He longed for the days where he only had to feed on them once and leave their corpses behind to fertilize the ground. Though the rest of his brothers relatively made more of an effort to befriend these beings upon each passing generation, Yoongi did no such thing. What's the point? he would often ask. They'll be dead soon anyway. The only time he entered their presence in the spacious manor they all lived in was for a quick drink when he was feeling especially parched.
Time is especially grueling to watch pass when you're immortal. To clear his time, Yoongi often wrote music. Ever since coming across the works of Bach as a young fledgling, it was a passion he wanted to pursue. He was enamored with the art of music. He'd made personal acquaintance with artists like Mozart, Beethoven, Debussy, Vivaldi, Louis Armstrong, Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley, The Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel... he could continue on. He found that musicians were the only humans he could tolerate. They saw beyond their own world and wished for something better. They made the world more beautiful, the tarnished thing that it was.
For centuries he was lost in his world of music, thousands of musical drafts littered around his room. His brothers often wondered at why he never sent it out into the world, even anonymously, or why he never threw the old stuff away. He hissed whenever he saw them come close to his work. Each sheet was a memory. He would never rid himself of any of it. All he had to do was take one, sit down at the piano, and he could recall a memory nearly forgotten from two centuries passed. That was the power music had. He only ever shed tears recalling those things, the only parts of him he could call beautiful.
Yoongi probably would have lived on like that for centuries more to come. Contained within himself. Unwilling to branch out. It seems, though, that no matter how much time one has experienced, it can't prepare a person for the unexpected. This one unexpected thing that had hit Yoongi like a tidal wave was a little girl, born in the age where technology was rising to its greatest heights, a girl who possessed an inane amount of curiosity that unsettled him to his very core.
One day he found this ward, one of many that he'd had over the years, fumbling about in his quarters, the small thing no older than four or five years old. The sound of the piano, the only one in the manor, alerted him from the other side of the aged structure, and he ran in a fury to inspect who had dared enter his room. He halted when he found the small creature barely half his size banging her tiny fingers on the keys. With a little bit of an annoyed edge, he treaded quizzically into the room, coming up behind her. "What are you doing?"
She turned to him, jumping a little as she hadn't heard him enter, eyes surprised but shining. "Oh! Master Yoongi! Hello."
He couldn't even recall her name. "What are you doing?" he repeated impatiently.
"What is this?" she asked instead of answering. "It's pretty."
He pursed his lips. "It's a piano. A musical instrument. Do you know what music is, child?"
"I think so. That's what Momma calls this sound." She played a key to make her point. She turned her eyes back up at him. They were impossibly wide. "Do you make that sound, Master Yoongi? I hear it sometimes."
Slowly, he nodded his head. "Yes. Yes, that is me playing." He paused for a moment, before coming closer to hover over her. "Would you like to hear something?"
She broke out into a toothy grin, clapping her hands. "Yes, please!"
He swallowed at the close proximity, as he could smell her dainty scent, but he knew enough self-restraint to not feed off of a small helpless thing like her. Instead, he reached a hand over her shoulder to play a short, melodious tune with one hand, his fingers skating over the keys effortlessly with his centuries of practice under his belt. He could hear her breathing hitch in awe as she watched and listened, such a concept as playing the piano this way being so alien to her young self. After he finished, she looked up at him with her big eyes. "Master Yoongi, how did you do that?"
"Practice, child," he explained. "Lots of practice."
"Wow," she breathed. She reached out a hand to touch the keys again, but hesitated, as if intimidated by the talent he'd displayed and scared to try again herself. "I want to do that," she said wistfully, confirming his thoughts.
"You can," he said. "You just need practice like I have."
She looked up at him with a big smile, and the sight stunned him. How could a child have a smile so bright and powerful? "Can you teach me?"
The question took him aback. No one had ever asked him to teach them about music. People had displayed curiosity, and even had asked to listen, but never had they wanted to partake in it with him. He wasn't sure how to answer at first. "I don't know if that's a good idea," he said neutrally.
Her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. "How come?"
"I'm sure you'll get bored quickly. I also don't think your mother would approve spending so much time around me."
"Why not? We live together. And your music is really, really pretty. I think Mommy would like me to make something pretty like that."
He didn't quite know how to explain to her. He didn't think that her mother was too keen on his presence, since the only courtesy he ever gave her was leaving her with enough blood to avoid unnecessary fatigue after each feeding. He wasn't sure how much this little girl knew about what he was, or at least the ugly details behind it all.
He wasn't one to be delicate about it, either. She was going to know sooner or later. "You know that I... I hurt your mother sometimes. Right?"
At this, her brow furrowed. "Hurt? That's not what Mommy says. She says you bite her, but she's never really hurt."
Hmm. Interesting that the woman didn't speak about this topic with distaste. He knew he would if he were her. "I drink her blood, child. Did you know that?"
She slowly nodded. "Yes. But Mommy says that it's because it's the only thing you can eat. So that doesn't make you bad, I don't think."
He stared at her for a moment, puzzled. She was so pure hearted, which he supposed made sense for a child, but what stunned him was the fact that her childlike wonder outweighed her fear, even smothered it. He didn't see much reason to argue further, and although he would never admit it, he'd longed to share his passion with someone, anyone, for a very long time.
"You will ask your mother for permission first, and if she gives her consent, practice will be five days a week for two hours each day. You must practice on your own for at least one hour a day as well. If these requirements are not met, I will no longer offer my help to you. You also may not come into this room unless it is for lessons and personal practice. Is that understood?"
Her eyes blinked as her brain worked through his mature use of words, before she smiled up at him in excitement. "Yes! I will be back soon, Master Yoongi! Thank you!" She surprised him further by coming to enfold her little arms around him in a hug, wrapping around his waist daintily. He offered no physical touch in return. It was enough that he allowed her to do this in the first place. As she turned to leave, she looked back at him and giggled. "Oh, and I don't know if you knew, but my name is Y/N." He watched as she went, pigtails flying behind her.
He inhaled the air around him. Her scent still lingered in the particles. Y/N's scent. So delicate, so light, so sweet. He smiled the teeniest bit, somehow knowing he was going to, dare he say it, enjoy her company.
He fully anticipated when she came of age. He was going to thoroughly enjoy getting a taste of her.
Hello all my lovely readers! Hope you liked the first chapter. Please leave comments, I would love to hear from you all!