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When he climbs up the stage, he sees nothing but the blinding lights. Far away - he thinks - Far away people are clapping, cheering, waiting in anticipation. Here and there… There’s only one thing he can contemplate. The black and white keys, shining in the blinding lights of the famous concert hall.There is no point in denying. The piano, his proud and faithful lover, first and … the last? He sacrifised so much to be there. Whatever people think, it was never about the fame, the money, the success. He wanted to be recognised, obviously, but more than that he wanted them to understand, to feel what he feels.He was never good at words, always too bold or to shy, but music… It was always different with music. He could feel through it, really feel, shake all of the numbness ruling his days, reach to warmth he desperatly craved. He could show even the broken parts of his soul without even a shadow of shame. Using this shiny keys he could tell every story, show every emotion, and it felt so good, so deep, so true. It was addicting. His own personal heaven.So, why does he feel this way? So heavy at heart. Tears are threatening to fall, but he still tries to curl his lips in a fake attempt of a smile. It’s not like he really has to care about it, about how emotionless or hostile his face looks. People know him. His fans know him even better. It’s part of his charm. His mysterious face, almost without emotions, not welcoming, but so, so interesting.His eyes running through the crowd mindlessly. They know he won’t give them even one grateful glance. He is grateful though. Grateful that they let him make living out of his passion. But still… He’s not there for them, he’s not, although they came here especially for him and they wait, oh, so patiently until intense emotions will run through his fingers just to be changed into sounds and melodies. They will cry and laugh, sometimes almost forgetting to breath. Their hearts will beat in crazy rythym, waiting in anticipation for this grand performance, stronger and stronger with every second. The best of the best, Min Yoongi. Magician of the piano, true artist, with sounds running through his vains instead of blood. You can’t deny his great talent, his abillity of capturing complicated world of feelings into notes and melodies. And love he feels to this instrument of his is just undescribable! He touches it as he would touch a lover, as there was nothing else in this whole wide world. The way he looks at it is as he saw the stars and constelletions in this little black and white keys.Yes, he knows he’s good. It’s so flattering that they think like that. It’s so unbelivable that they see his bare truth, his love and raw passion. Yet, still it’s not why he’s here. So, standing in the centre of the stage, drinking his success, watching his first love sitting proudly in front of him with all its glory, why does he feel like he lost, like everything was gone? There was never anything more important, was it? Ever since he saw the old piano in the corner of the room in his childhood house, he knew his destiny. His first love, it should be the last, he was sure of it? Right? Wrong… Right?!It’s time to start. It’s time to give them what they came for. Its time to feel again. He doesn’t want to be numb anymore, he just wonna feel, just a little bit...Why can’t he? Memories flood through his mind like a river when his fingers find the place on piano keys, stroking them with confidence. He knew it’s going to be hard when he come back home. He could feel it in his bones that last concerts of his tour, in his homeland, for Korean audience, will be so fucking hard. He should be prepared. But how could he forget, how could he ease his mind when there were so many memories, when all he ever wanted was to play at this very stage. He promised himself he will one day. He promised himself. Once, he even shared this dream. Shared it with Jimin...Jimin, his Jiminie, his Sunshine, his life and the death of him. He sees him so vividly now… Fingers run thorugh keys faster, his eyes are focused, brows furrowed, lips wishpering some words that no one can hear. He remembers… He wants to forget...
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When he saw his first love for the first time, he wasn’t much taller than the old piano chair, standing so lonely in front of an old instrument in the corner of his grandma’s room. It was just a decoration for them, just another furniture to dust. He was so, so suprised when he pressed black key and he heard the sound. It was so beautiful, aluring, promising heaven and hell to his little soul, though he really couldn’t comprehend it yet. He could only feel and, God, he felt, he felt so much that his tiny heart almost freed itself from his ribcage.-„Don’t be ridiculous, Yoongi” he heard his father's rant „No son of mine can make a decent life playing stupid sentimental melodies here and there. I won’t let you become the joke of this town, of my house. You’re gonna work hard for your family, do you here me?!”He was scared of his father's hursh words, his furrowed brows and angry face. Yet, he was also so determined to fight for the feeling blooming in his heart whenever he even saw his beloved instrument. He was learning alone, listening to his instincts and reading old musical books hidden in grandma’s cabinet. He played at night when his father worked hard to feed their little family, sick wife, her old mother and two useless sons, as he liked to notice every time someone praised him for being so hardworking and reliable. Yoongi’s lovely grandma, petite woman with the warm smile, showed him some basics, too old to be scared of this rotten man who could never love her daughter just right.The inspiration to his own melodies was whole wide world surronding him with cacophony of sounds. Since he was tiny boy, barely even speaking, he discovered that everything has their own sound. Raindrops falling from the roof, plates in the old kitchen cabinets, his mother fingernails scratching old wooden table, wind blowing through old roof of their house… Everything! These sounds were his reality, much more interesting than what he could see or smell around. They were the best way to express himself, even if it was just knocking the table with old, wooden spoon.You see, he was never good at words. His mother was so worried when he was barely speaking at the age of three, but father didn’t let her take any doctor’s advice.-„No son of mine is a freak!” he used to say „He’s just lazy, that’s all, and I will teach him. I will teach him well!”That was the day he got to know that his father hand, slapping some parts of his little body, makes a sound too. The sound he hated to hear, although it happened to be one of the most freaquent in this house for many years to come.He's never showed his passion to music at school, too scared someone will tell on him and his father will sell the old piano. Of course the old man did it anyway, barely a week after grandma’s funeral. There was no one in this house who wanted old piece of furniture, so out of tune these days, beside this sad, skinny teenager who was too scared to even try protecting it. They all got new shoes and jackets for the money. „The deal of my life!” his father said so glad with himself.You see, Yoongi’s father, Min Jongho, wasn’t a bad man, not at all. He loved fiercely an equally firecely hated. He was just a practical, traditional man. No one could tell he didn’t took the best care of his family. It’s just that he didn’t understand. He just hated to the core of his bone this sensitive cry baby he had to call his son. There was something so not right with this boy. If his pretty wife, Min Gayeon, wasn’t so shy and sick, he could even suspect the boy wasn’t even his. No son of his could be that weak, that pathetic!Yoongi missed his old piano so much, but he was older now. He learned too soon about cruelty of life. He taught himself to not care anymore. What he felt touching black and white keys, changing sounds into melodies, was forbidden. Equally forbidden as what he felt watching blonde boy from neighbourhood eating his lunch at the school playground. He knew it’s going to kill him one day. He knew…but he still thought it’s gonna be just that simple, to bury the truth underneath of his every day lies. His father payed well for the school. He was supposed to become accountant, make really good money but stay close to family, make better life for them. He was supposed to have a wife, kids and all this ordinary life. He just wanted to make his family proud, just this once. He couldn’t.-„No son of mine will be disgusting, unnatural creature, taking his dirty liking in men! You will marry the woman I'll chose. The WOMAN or you will forget you had a family!” his father was screaming loudly without his usual care for keeping his respectful public persona.That was the day he got to know that silent tears of his mother are not so silent anymore. They have a sound which is actually louder than bombs in his ears. That was the day he found out his brother silent sobbing can rip the silence harder than a thunder. That was the day he lost and gained. Lost safety of childhood house, everything he recognised as familiar warmth, but gained freedom, cold and unforgiving, his freedom.He didn’t come back there ever again. Not even once. He knew his mother was buying his recordings, he saw her at his concert once. He met his brother, his wife and little daughter few times when they came to visit. But it was never the same. The ghost of his father's curse was standing firmly between them. You can’t find love where there’s no understanding. For what is worth, they tried, so hard, but they just didn’t understand…
He came back to his first love almost right away after starting his new life in Seoul. He was working night shifts in some shitty motel but also almost every afternoon before work he was sitting in front of this cute little cafe, playing the piano. He played what he felt like, a little bit of classical music, some popular songs, a little bit of his own compositions. People rarely gave him money, but someone always bought him coffee or some nice street food and, what’s more important, he had an audience, so his love was given the attention he craved for it.-„That sounds so sad. Are you sad Mister Pianist?” sweet voice was so full of authentic concern that for the first time he stopped playing and actually reacted for somebody’s attempt to talk. He has never reacted before, not even once, not caring about any praises or curses. He wasn’t there for them. He was just dating his first love. Whatever could be more important?-„I guess, I am” he responded, a bit suprised with this sudden urge of making a contact. He raised his head a bit. „I guess, I even like it. It’s better than feeling nothing, right?”The owner of sweet voice, the most beautiful man he ever seen in his life, giggled. He fucking giggled! And that was the most beautiful sound he ever heard in his life! So, eventually, that was the day Yoongi found out that the word „beautiful” can also be the synonim of a sound. He wanted to write the melody with it, cherishing this precious sounds coming out of soft, pink lips…
-„You play every day, right?”-”Yeah, almost every day. I can’t leave my love alone for too long, you know, Mr…” he raised his brow in silent curiosity. He had to know the sound of his name. He just had to.-„Jimin, Park Jimin. I heard you before, but couldn’t recognize the piece. Is it some European composition? Mr…”-„Yoongi, Min Yoongi. No, it’s… I mean... I wrote it myself.”-„Wow! It sounds a bit like the rain, you know, the warm one, just like at the beginning of spring, drop, drop, drop…” the angel with sensual resonance in his pretty name giggled yet again.-„You can hear that? Oh, that’s just… No one heard that before, but you’re right it is about the rain”-„Does the rain make you sad, Yoongi?”-„It does. It brings some memories… but that’s ok. There’s usually rainbow after rain.”-„Yes, I hope you’ll see it soon” angel said with his crescent smile and everythign was bright again.
That was the day Yoongi found out that rainbow can be found in someone’s eyes, in someone’s smile and it can smell as fresh loundry and it can sound as soft voice. That was the day he met his last love.
-„Yoongi, come on, you can’t be late for the audition!” Jimin was holding his hand firmly pulling him to the taxi.He just rolled his eyes looking at the impatient beauty next to him. His boyfriend for two weeks, Park Jimin, couldn’t be more proud, yet more impatient when he got to know that some VIP producer left his bussiness card on Yoongi’s piano the other day. That was the day when Yoongi found out that pride and hard work make sounds too, the sound of Jimin’s honest laugh and their friends loud cheer, the sound of wet kisses falling from plush lips.-„Jimin, Jiminie! They want me, they really want me! They say I’ll be training now, you know, I’ll get the proper teacher and I will improve my skills! But I can still compose, they want me to. They said it’s nice and fresh. They said it’s a chance to attract younger audience. I could be even as famous as idols. Ha, ha, with my face, an idol, with the boring piano and that face! They will get me manager, I will tour, if I will be good enough, obviously. I could live like I always wanted…”His beautiful boyfriend was speechless, but his heart had a sound, pounding loudly in his chest. He could feel it, he could hear it… That night he found out that true love can make sounds too. It sounds like wishpers under the night sky, little pants, hushed screams, praises and confessions. It sounds like the prettiest noises falling from this beloved lips when the world looks like Jimin, tastes like Jimin, smells like Jimin… His Jimin. That was the day he found out that his first love may still be the last, but in between he can close his world around little fingers and beautiful crescent smile.
-„It’s only for a while, Sunshine. You know how it is. We both lost our families and lots of friends because they couldn’t accept the way we want to live. You know how Korean society looks at people like us. I've just started, I’m gaining attention, climbing the ladder. You know that’s all I ever wanted, you know that’s so, so important…” he was clenching palms of his hands, fisting the soft material of his own sweater, knowing how hard it is for both of them.-„Yeah, Yoongi, I know, your first love... I get that. It was always there for you, understands you like I never couldn’t…Sometimes I think that if piano had a body you would marry it, live with it, make a family with it! But what was I? Your plaything? Your way to forget?” Jimins eyes are so big right know, staring at shock, threatening angry tears.-„No, baby, how can you even… You were always by my side, my number one fan. We dreamed about this, both of us! Look, it’s also better for your career. You’re rookie too, just published your first book. You will lose everything before you even started, just as me. The backlash, can you even imagine… Jimin, if they knew we are together…” he tried to convinced Jimin or more even convince himself, he knew there’s no other way and he just couldn’t turn back right now.-„Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare to compare this! I have never planned to be a writer. I wrote this for us, about us. You can’t just… Beside, do you think I care?! Do you think I would put my career before us! You are my first real love, my whole world. All this months and years I was standing beside you. I watched how you touch this stupid black and white keys more often than me! How you talk through your fingers more gentle than you ever spoke to me! You were always so focused on the dates with the black beauty on the stage and falling asleep first ten minutes of our dinners. I bored you, I disgusted you, cause you can not play me like you play the stupid piano! You don’t want me cause I’m not as obedient as it is! And now… You want me to lie, to pretend that I've never kissed you, never hold you, never pleasured you just like you wanted it… Are this memories so worthless to you?!” Jimin's anger was rising as wildfire. Yoongi was almost afraid that he will hear the slapping sound again after all this years… But no, Jimin was not his father although he equally just didn’t understand.-„No, please, my little prince, you’re the most beautiful and pure part of my life. There is not even one bad memory conected to you. But music… It was always my destiny, my chance, it saved me, I can’t just walk away from…”-„Your first love…” Jimin looked so defeated, so broken. He wanted to hold him so bad, but he knew that no amount of kisses can change what his was doing to the love of his life right now. He was breaking this pure, little soul. There truly was no turning back right now.-„Jiminie, baby, please. Just for a while. We will be close, I will call you every day, we can even meet. Musicians are allowed to have friends. When I gain my position, when they willl beg me to stay, to be their artist, I will introduce you to the world, as my partner, my love, my everything. We will have our happily ever after. Just, please…”-„How long?”-„Contract says two years…” he couldn’t look into his eyes saying this, he knew what he would find there.-„Have you even heard yourself, Yoongi?! Two years?! You want to hear that I will wait for you, right? That time has nothing to say when you’re in love. But news flash, Mr Min. We are not a part of cheesy drama! You want me to watch you, to be there for you but I can not touch, I can not speak about my feelings. This is what you want for me? This is how you show your love?! I’m so done with this, so fucking done! Come back to it, to your first love, to apparently your only love and let me be!”That day Yoongi found out that broken heart also makes a sound. The sound of slamming door, the sound of broken sobbs echoing in empty room, the sound made by cold sheets in his suddenly too big, empty bed. The victory had such a bitter taste. He didn’t see it coming. He only wanted to love and be loved. He was sure, he felt it. The electric feeling running through his fingers when he touched the black and white keys… when he touched Jimin’s body… He loved them so much. How could he choose? They say the first love is always the one to remember. He wanted it to be the last. He didn’t want it to be the last. He didn’t know anything anymore.There was the only thing he could do just now. He opened the door to their guest bedroom. Few months ago they found old piano at display, so similar to the one he saw with his little eyes of a child. They bought it and restored it. They put it to the guest bedroom so he could play even when Jimin had to write or had some friends over. He sat there once again today an played. He changed tears into sounds, sounds into melody…
Ten months later he found out that sounds of his pain moves other people’s hearts too. „For J” was the first not classical piano composition that was played in national radio and television, appearing in main channels, in the song charts, settling its fair place on the playlists around the world. In countless interviews he was talking about his first love but not even once he let them know who mysterious J is. It was only for him, his „in between”, still his everything. He was starting to prepare the tour. He started to meet friends again. It wasn’t easy at the beginning cause they had almost only mutual friends. They never spoke about HIM, stating that it’s not their story to tell. He only knew that Jimin’s last book, „Whispers in between”, was a great success and he is currently promoting it overseas. He regreted he can’t have his own signed copy like with the first one. He bought it, of course he did, but he couldn’t make himself to open even the first page. He was so scared it will be again for them, about them… He didn’t have any more tears. He just couldn’t find any more sounds.Then there were next lonley months, filled with hard work and countless dates with his first love. During concerts in Korea, he still played the same piano they bought together with Jimin when he passed the audition. They had to take a loan but it was so worth it. Everything they did together was so valuable, he couldn’t deny it.Lately, he’s found out that pages of the book makes their own sounds too. They are much more silent than the others, barely wishper to him, but he can hear them just fine. He took Jimin’s book in his hands, opened the first page and saw it: „For Y. My first, my last and everything in between”. He didn’t cry that night but he slept with the copy of the book tackled safely in his arms, like he would hold HIM if he only could.He always thought that his first love was the one who saved him from the unhappy, empty life. He always knew his destiny. Did he really?
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It’s time… Fingers run through the keys. The place he always belonged. Home… Yet, there’s no joy in it anymore. This home doesn’t have soul anymore. Everything seems to be so wrong. The last sounds changed into the silence.Once again he found out that his success has a sound. It sounds like never ending cheers of the crowd in the famous concert hall. He can only listen to it, standing there, strangely uncomfortable, cause when he can’t touch his love, he suddenly feel so out of place in this big, shiny room, with all this elegant, sophisticated people. Someone gave him flowers, lights are so bright again. He feels almost like jetlagged, coming back from the longest journey. He bows and smiles, at least tries for a smile. He breaths deeply trying to memorise this moment. He sacrifised everything for it. It is his reward. He was always sure it’s gonna finish like that. Him and the piano, in front of the crowd. He never doubted, although really, there was no chance.Then why is his heart bleeding so much? It’s time to turn around and walk away. Tomorrow he’ll be back. It’s going to be better. His beautiful lover will shine with his pretty keys, will lure him again, will promise dreams, will let him live again, let him heal, like it always does… It’s time to walk away.He turns around, going backstage without a single word. He was always bad at words, never a storyteller, never a poet. He’s known for this, just turning back, without a single glance, or a wave of a hand. They shout after him, confess their love, tell him how his music healed them, how they come back every evening just to hear it. He used to care. He dosen’t anymore. Good for them - he thinks - good for them to find their peaceful place in his music.He’s not stupid, he knows that without them his music wouldn’t be important at all, he’s not heartless, he’s not a robot. He just didn’t came for them. It was just a date, with his first love, the one that owns him, the one that took everything else. He almost falls from the last steps of the stairs. He’s so deeply in thoughts. Where is he actually… backstage? Right, time to change, the costume, the persona, it has to stay here till the next time, till tomorrow.
-„Yoongi…” he barely hears quiet words falling from plush lips.-„Jimin? Is that… Is that really you?”-„Yoongi, I… I’m so sorry. I can’t…”-„Jiminie… what are you…?” he almost can’t breathe. He’s sure it’s a dream. It can’t be the truth, the reality. Right? It’s his brain, full of pain, tricking him. Right?-„Yoongi… I… I….I know I shouldn’t be here, but I just… I can’t live like that anymore. I had to try… I’m so lost without you. I tried to forget. I did. So hard! You know I was right. I knew it from the beginning that I’m always second in your life. I was the one who had to wait, who had to understand. I was right to be jealous, to be mad even. I wanted to be selfish, I thought I deserve better” words fall faster and faster from his mouth. He’s scared that the pianist will just turn around and walk away, like he always walks away from his audience „It was so hard to admit that I’m not that perfect, that I’m not that reliable, not that understanding. I knew you couldn’t choose… I promised to never make you. You were with me because I was the only one to understand. Yet, in the end, I forced you to make this choice. I’m sorry. I should have stayed in my place, should have been smarter, better boyfriend, better human being even…” small hands was clutching the hem of his shirt so hard, eyes pleading, full of tears.-„Jiminie….” he knew this beautiful, pure soul is apologizing for something that was not even his fault to begin with, something that he shouldn’t even been put through in the first place. It was just so Jimin, so him. He always put others before himself.-„No, listen… Yoongi, baby, please, just listen. I can’t… I know I don’t deserve to even be here. The piano… It probably hates me so much… You probably hate me even more, but please… I left my new number to your manager. If you find it in your heart to forgive me… I’ll be waiting, I’ll… Even if it’s just for simple talk, just from time to time. I miss you so much. I’ll take anything you give me…” silent tears flooded pretty eyes.-„Jimin, baby, please don’t cry, I can’t stand it. Please, can I even say something?” Yoongi was pleading, he had to try even if it was the last thing he will do in his godforsaken life.-„No, please. Just text me when you ready or call me, ok? I shouldn’t come here. It’s just spoiling your big day. But I wanted to see you one last time and… show you how proud I am. I saw the whole performance, you know? You were absolutely brilliant out there! But that’s enough. I’ll better get going now.”-„Jimin…” it is so hard to see with blurry eyes, so fucking hard to trace the lines of this sweet face right now when tears don't go away no matter how many times he blinks.-„Bye, Yoongi. I love you, I’ve never stopped. I was so wrong and so right, at the same time, you know. Seeing you at the stage I was so, so jealous. That you love that much and you are loved…”-„You are loved too, Sunshine, you know?”-„I hope so, I really do.” the shy, sad smile was crawling on this perfect, round lips.
Yoongi watches him going away, his beautiful body dissappearing into the shadows of the backstage corridors, and he lets himself sob loudly into the empty hall. He wanted to kiss him, to hold him, to whipe his tears. He couldn’t, not now. It was too soon. God, it hurt so much… Yet, for the first time from many months he felt it. Hope started blooming deep in his heart. He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his dress shirt. His manager really texted him the number. Yeah, Hobi was always a good friend, he thought smiling a bit. He opened the message app and started typing...At the other part of corridor, pretty man stood with his tears stained face. He regreted so much, he wanted to go back. He couldn’t. He was brave today, he knows he could do better though. Jimin was always better at words, but never understood the music. He’s world is where the words are written at the white pages of his books. He was always better at words.Sudden sound of incoming message suprised him a lot. It’s probably Seokjin, his manager. He surely wanted to know if he helped enough by contacting him with his boyfriend, mister Jung Hoseok, currently manager of Min Yoongi, the greatest modern Korean pianist, touring the world… Yeah, he’s a good friend. They owe him anyway thinks Jimin. It was thanks to him Hobi even got the gig when Yoongi was just a rookie musician out of nowhere. He reaches to the pocket of his black jeans and takes out the phone.
Unknown number
Hi, Sunshine
Jiminie
Sunshine?
Unknown number
I’ve change my numebr too, you know? You know, right?
Just checking if yours is real.
Jiminie
Oh… Ok
Unknown number
Wanna talk… properly.
Jiminie
(Jiminie change unknown number into Yoonie)
Yeah, I don’t know.
You think we’re ready?
Yoonie
I understand. It’s too soon.
I’m sorry my little prince.
Jimin shivers reading yet another pet name. He missed this so fucking much.
Jiminie
No. It’s not.
Just… don’t want you to act on emotions
Don’t wonna force anything.
...
Today was hard...
Yoonie
It was.
That’s why we have to talk.
Jiminie
Ok
Yoonie
Ok?
Jiminie
Yeah, lets have some talk.
Yoonie
Sunshine… thank you.
I have never stopped either, you know?
Yeah Jimin thinks putting his phone back to the pocket I hope I am loved, still. I have nothing but hope. He won’t write anything else. Not today. But suddenly he feels it, the weight is taken out of his shoulder. He can breathe again. Maybe he really understands. At last...