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Really, the whole thing was Hoseok’s fault. If Yoongi had just ignored the knocking on the door, he wouldn’t be in this situation. But ignoring Hoseok was unthinkable, so Yoongi had let him in, and now Hoseok was being persuasive.
“Just come to one rehearsal, hyung,” he said. “I really think you’ll like it.”
“I really think I won’t.”
“It’s a fun group,” continued Hoseok, undeterred. “There are some great players - wait until you meet the other viola player – he’s brilliant - and everyone's really friendly. They all love music as much as you do-“
“Music and I have broken up,” said Yoongi. “We’re not speaking to each other until it stops breaking my heart.”
It was meant it as a joke, but didn't sound very funny as he said it. Hoseok wasn't amused; his whole face turned soft and sympathetic.
“It might be good for you to get out of your apartment,” he said in a gentler tone. “You haven’t answered any of my messages in weeks.”
Yoongi looked away. “I’ve been busy with work.” This wasn’t true – Yoongi had been turned down for several composing commissions in a row, so in fact he had a lot of free time. But Hoseok didn’t need to know that. “And I go out of the apartment all the time” He tried to remember his last outing – hadn’t he gone to the convenience store a few days ago? It had been recently, anyway – probably not more than a week.
Hoseok failed to look reassured by Yoongi’s words. He studied Yoongi with a worried face – Yoongi tried to look like a functional adult, and not someone who’d been washing himself with shampoo because he was too apathetic to go and buy more bodywash.
“Well,” said Hoseok after a moment, “if you really don’t want to come, I understand. But it would help us out a lot – the orchestra really needs more violas, or just competent players in general. And I thought…” -he trailed off for a moment, before continuing in a wobbly voice- “it might be nice to do something together again. I miss seeing you.”
Oh no. Hoseok was making That Face: the one where his eyes went big and his mouth turned down. Yoongi felt his resolve weakening; he’d do almost anything to stop Hoseok looking like that. Even if it involved a community orchestra.
“Just one rehearsal,” he said. “As a favour to you. And I haven’t played the viola for ages, so don’t expect too much.”
The change in Hoseok was instant: the smile switched back on and he was a ray of sunshine once more. “Yay, thank you, hyung! You might even have fun!”
“I won’t.”
“I think you will. Just a little bit.”
Yoongi soon regretted his promise. Apathy took over him again once Hoseok left, and by the time rehearsal day arrived, he just wanted to call the whole thing off and stay in bed. But it seemed the least he could do for Hoseok was to show his face at one rehearsal. And if he really hated it, he’d fake a medical emergency and leave. As Hoseok picked him up and drove him to the rehearsal, Yoongi focused on this comforting idea. There were lots of options - he could go for a stomach bug, or maybe a sprained finger. Yoongi was sure he could do convincing yells of pain.
His foreboding was increased when they entered the rehearsal venue. It was a small, drab community hall, several decades old and in need of repairs. Worse, it was full of people - all genders, mostly middle-aged, none of them looking like impressive musicians. In fact, there were few signs of any music happening at all: a few chairs and stands were set out, but most people were chatting in groups, not an instrument in sight. They all seemed to know each other - Yoongi instantly felt out of place. Hoseok, having far better people skills, was unbothered. He shepherded Yoongi through the hall, waving to everyone and explaining who the various players were. He even threated to introduce Yoongi to people, but luckily Yoongi talked him out of that idea. Instead, Hoseok headed over to a knot of people and started talking, while Yoongi found a corner to unpack.
It had been at least a year since Yoongi touched the viola; it would be terribly neglected by now. Part of him hoped that the strings had snapped or the bridge had fallen out – that would be a great excuse to leave the rehearsal. But when he opened the case, the viola was intact, though very out of tune. Yoongi checked it over, finding all the scrapes and scuff marks from years of playing, then slowly brought it back into harmony. It wasn’t a good instrument – he’d picked it up second-hand for cheap, and the sound was nothing special. Still, when Yoongi finally triumphed over a slipping peg and had the viola in tune, he felt a small glow of satisfaction.
While Yoongi was preoccupied, someone got the group moving in a productive direction. The rest of the chairs were arranged, music was handed out, and players began to settle into their places. There was no sign of the other “brilliant” violist that Hoseok had mentioned – judging by the other players he’d seen, Yoongi was doubting that description – but truthfully, he was more than happy to play on his own. No one to notice his mistakes. There was no sign of a conductor, either, but most players seemed quite relaxed about this, chatting in their chairs or fiddling away on their instruments. Yoongi, however, was impatient. He hadn’t come all this way to watch other people socialise. He wondered how long they were meant to wait – surely at some point everyone could just go home? At ten minutes past the nominal starting time, the concertmaster – Joohyun, Hoseok had said she was called – stepped up and began to direct the tuning. She at least seemed to be taking the rehearsal somewhat seriously, and the group gradually quietened under her attention.
The foyer door banged, and all heads turned as someone entered the hall. For a moment Yoongi assumed their tardy conductor had finally arrived: he was younger, and handsomer, than he’d expected. Then he noticed the instrument case – just another player, then possibly the mystery violist.
The new person blushed a little under the attention, but waved at the group cheerfully enough. “Did I miss anything important?” he asked.
Joohyun gestured around at the group. “As you can see, we are conductorless. Again. So no.”
“Well no need to worry, I’m here now,” said the mystery man. “If need be, I’ll try conducting – how hard could it be?”
Yoongi’s university friend Namjoon had studied conducting, and Yoongi had watched his years of struggle to master the art. If all the drunken 3am rants he'd been subjected to were anything to go by, conducting was harder than it seemed. Still, watching this guy’s attempts might be entertaining, at least.
Joohyung seemed to think similarly. “If he’s not here in ten minutes, I’ll let you try,” she said. “I need a laugh.”
The new arrival made his way to the viola section, where he stood looking down at Yoongi. “Hello, new friend!” he said. “I’m Seokjin, the magnificent leader of the violas, and I think you’re in my seat.”
Yoongi frowned - he should have thought to move over, but he'd been distracted. He opened his mouth, meaning to apologise, or maybe introduce himself, but what came out was “Well, you were late.” Hearing his unfriendly tone, he winced internally – what a great way to make a first impression.
Seokjin was taken aback for a moment, but he recovered quickly. “I suppose I was,” he said. “Are you making a leadership challenge? I wasn’t expecting a coup this evening.”
Hoseok leaned over from the cellos, looking concerned. “Oh no, Seokjin-hyung, this is my friend Yoongi. He came along to help us out tonight, because he’s a kind and friendly person.” He gave Yoongi a stern look.
Yoongi shifted over one seat, and tried to put a more approachable look on his face. “Yeah, I’m Yoongi,” he said. “Sorry about, um. Your seat, or whatever.” He attempted a smile; it felt stiff.
“Since Hoseok vouches for you, I’ll forgive you this once,” said Seokjin as he sat down. “Despite the attempted coup. But if we’re going play together, there’s something you should know about me.”
Yoongi raised his eyebrows.
“I am…” said Seokjin, before pausing for a few dramatic seconds, “a viola genius.”
Yoongi’s only stared blankly in response. He couldn’t tell if this was a joke or a particularly arrogant boast, and Seokjin’s serious face didn’t give him any clues.
“Yes, people are often struck speechless when they find out,” said Seokjin. “But please, try not to be too intimidated.”
Yoongi raised his eyebrows even further, trying to come up with a suitably scathing response. Perhaps luckily, at this point, the conductor finally arrived, so Yoongi ignored this baffling violist and turned his attention to the front of the group.
His first thought was that this conductor wasn’t worth the wait. The man looked tired, and shabby, and unhappy about being here. There was no apology for being late; he simply stepped up to the podium and called out the first piece. Yoongi tried not to be pessimistic – maybe he was better at conducting than people skills. As the orchestra began playing, however, that proved to be a false hope. The man’s hands were keeping time, but he was gazing off at the far wall. He didn’t indicate the dynamic, give cues; he might have been conducting in an empty room, for all the attention he paid to the orchestra.
Perhaps because of this, the orchestra sounded… less than impressive. They were too loud, the different sections were out of sync, and one of the flutes was badly out of tune. Yoongi hadn’t believed Hoseok’s flattering description of the group, but he’d expected better than this. To be fair, some players were doing a decent job. Joohyun did her best to keep the violins in time, and Yoongi could hear Hoseok’s confident playing leading the cellos. And as for Seokjin… Yoongi had to admit he was good as well. Not a genius, but definitely talented. Yoongi himself wasn’t playing his best – he was out of practice, and sight-reading as well – and the contrast wasn’t doing him any favours. Perhaps he should have practiced at some point over the last few years.
Still, a handful of good players couldn’t carry the whole group. As the trumpets came in an entire bar late, Yoongi downgraded his judgement of the orchestra to woeful. This wasn’t the fun evening of music he’d been promised - perhaps it was time to bring out the sprained finger routine after all. The group reached the end of the piece and stumbled to a halt, ending with a final discordant squawk from the brass section.
“Good,” said the conductor. “Let’s move on.”
Yoongi nearly scoffed aloud. He’d met plenty of apathetic musicians in his time, but this guy was something else. He tried to exchange an incredulous look with Hoseok, but Hoseok was looking at the ground, frowning slightly. Yoongi felt a pang of sympathy. Hoseok, with his high standards, would be hating this careless practice. Yoongi had assumed that Hoseok asking for help was just a ploy to get him out of the house, but maybe he did need moral support after all.
With no response from Hoseok, Yoongi turned to Seokjin instead. “This guy is a joke,” he said. “My conductor-friend could do a better job standing on one leg with his eyes closed.”
“That sounds amazing, you should bring him next time,” said Seokjin. “And it’s true our conductor is… not the most enthusiastic. On the plus side, he'll probably quit in a few weeks. Our conductors tend not to stay long.”
“I can't imagine why,” muttered Yoongi. “This a travesty, I can’t believe I came out tonight just for this.” He scowled around at the world in general.
There were a few tense, silent seconds.
Seokjin cleared his throat. “Well, speaking, of jokes,” he said brightly, “I have an important question I need to ask you. What is the range of a viola?”
“What?” said Yoongi intelligently, not expecting music trivia, “Um, I think… C3 up to-"
“Wrong,” interrupted Seokjin. “The correct answer is…” -he paused for a moment- “as far as you can kick it!” He erupted into squeaks of laughter, while Yoongi could only stare in amazement.
“That’s awful,” he said eventually. “That’s the stupidest joke I’ve ever heard.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Seokjin. “I’m sure I can think of one stupider.”
“Please don’t,” said Yoongi, “I need to concentrate on playing.”
“Ah, I’m being too distracting,” said Seokjin. “This happens a lot – what with the good looks, charm and viola genius, it’s a wonder anyone can concentrate.”
Despite himself, Yoongi felt a smile tugging at his mouth. It wasn’t the joke, which truly was terrible – it was the way Seokjin was gleefully making a fool of himself. Perhaps he wasn’t so arrogant after all.
The orchestra struggled through the piece once more, then the conductor called a break. He slumped onto a chair in a corner, apparently exhausted by this short musical effort. Yoongi wished they had kept playing – it was preferable to unstructured social time with strangers. But he needn’t have worried. Hoseok found him immediately, and took him straight to the coffee-making facilities. He then stuck by Yoongi’s side for the whole break, like some guardian angel of small-talk. Yoongi had expected Seokjin to have lots of other friends to talk to, but after a few minutes he came to join them as well. With these two social butterflies next to him, Yoongi didn’t have to talk at all. All he needed to do was nod occasionally, sip his drink, and refuse to smile at any of Seokjin’s silly comments.
After the break, the orchestra attempted a second piece, and it was even worse than the first. Yoongi found he was less annoyed than before, though - he was too busy being bothered by Seokjin. The threats had been true: Seokjin knew several more viola jokes, each one worse than the last. Yoongi tried not to respond - he had some dignity after all. However, a particularly stupid effort had him snorting into his chinrest, and Seokjin's answering smile was delighted. When he managed ignore Seokjin and focus on the rest of the orchestra, Yoongi felt more generous towards them than before. Yes, they definitely weren’t very good: the flutes continued to play flat, the trumpeters were too busy laughing at their mistakes to come in on time. But that didn’t seem to bother them. At least people were enthusiastic. Yoongi stopped worrying about playing badly – Seokjin was the only one who would hear, and he probably didn’t care. Despite himself, Yoongi felt his mood lifting. He might almost say he was… having fun.
The only sour note was the conductor, who was as indifferent as ever. Joohyun asked him for feedback or suggestions, at first politely then increasingly less so, but he didn’t have anything useful to say. Eventually Joohyun ran out of patience and began directing the rehearsal herself, which worked much better. The group went over some sections in more detail, and they were just starting to make some progress when they were interrupted.
The foyer doors swung open, and two women and a man bustled through, carrying mops, buckets and a vacuum cleaner. They stopped at the sight of the orchestra; in response, the players trailed off into silence, and everyone stared at each other for a few awkward seconds.
“You should be gone by now,” said one of the women eventually. “Look, it’s after nine o’clock.” She jabbed a mop at the clock to emphasise her point.
After a few moments, everyone turned to look at Joohyun “Perhaps there’s been a mistake,” she said. “We should be booked until ten.”
“No, it was nine,” said the other woman firmly. “We have a lot to clean, and you’re late.” She crossed her arms.
Joohyun glanced once more at the conductor, but finding no help there, she put down her violin and headed over to sort things out with the cleaners. The rest of the orchestra broke into excited murmurs.
“Don’t worry, Joohyun will manage everything,” said Seokjin, giving Yoongi a reassuring pat on the arm. “She always deals with these things – she’s very competent!”
“Always… you mean this happens a lot?”
“Oh, yes,” said Seokjin, nodding. “Well I mean, not this exactly, invading cleaners is a new one, but something exciting is always happening. Last year we had to abandon a rehearsal because the roof leaked and the hall started flooding.” He leaned across to poke Hoseok with his bow. “Do you remember the flood, Hoseok? The foyer was ankle deep, we had to wade across.” He pouted. “I ruined my best socks that night – they had a llama pattern, it was tragic.”
“Yeah, I remember,” said Hoseok. He frowned at Yoongi. “I’m sorry things are so messy tonight, hyung. I really hoped you’d have a good evening.”
“Don’t worry about it, Hoseokie,” said Yoongi. “It’s been…”
He realised, with some surprise, that it had been a good evening. This group was even worse than he’d expected, but in the few hours he’d played with them, he hadn’t thought about his own depressing life at all. No one here cared whether he was famous or successful – he was just another player, here to play music badly along with everyone else. Yoongi didn’t know how to explain any of this out loud, but luckily he didn’t have too: Joohyun was back, and from her face, it wasn’t good news.
“I’m afraid we need to pack up now,” she said. “There’s been a mix-up with our booking, and we need to be out of here in fifteen minutes.” She shot the conductor one last unfriendly look, then began to pack up along with everyone else.
As the musicians put everything away and trailed out of the hall, Yoongi found himself sticking close to Seokjin. He felt he should say something to finish the evening– “nice to meet you”, “thanks for looking out for me”, “your jokes are terrible” – but none of that seemed right. Instead, he stood there in awkward silence while everyone else said their farewells. Seokjin didn't seem to mind Yoongi following him, but at a certain point, most of the other players had left and it was just the two of them. Seokjin smiled at him; Yoongi forced himself to say something, anything, instead of lurking like some sort of gremlin.
“This has been an interesting evening. The group is very… enthusiastic.”
“We certainly are," said Seokjin. "And also talented and amazing, wouldn't you agree?"
“Well…”
Yoongi looked at Seokjin’s twinkling eyes and felt he didn’t need to be polite. Seokjin could cope with his real thoughts
“Amazingly bad, maybe. Are the trumpets always that much of a mess?”
Seokjin squeaked with laughter. “Some nights are worse – those guys have no sense of rhythm at all. They’re great, I'm very fond of them.”
“And the percussion section,” continued Yoongi, warming to his theme, “can they do any dynamics other than loud? And don’t get me started on the flutes-“
“This is all very true,” said Seokjin, grinning, “but you're forgetting the string-players? Didn't any of them impress you?”
Yoongi pretended to think. “Well, Joohyun is quite good.”
“Anyone else? Anyone charismatic… handsome… possibly a genius?”
Yoongi shook his head. “No, there was definitely no one like that. Especially not the viola players.”
Seokjin sputtered and, as Hoseok came over to join them, began to complain. “Hoseok, this friend of yours is very rude! He's telling lies, trying to deny my talent-"
“Hoseok, why didn’t you warn me about this guy?” interrupted Yoongi. “Do you know what I’ve had to put up with this evening? How many abysmal jokes I’ve been subjected to?”
“Slander! I am extremely funny, Yoongi is just intimidated by my viola skills-“
“If you don’t stop talking, I will push you down the stairs.”
“Now now, Yoongi,” said Seokjin, his mouth twitching, “violins is never the answer.”
Yoongi had to bite his tongue, or he would have done something terrible, like laugh.
Hoseok was wearing a slightly fixed smile. “I’m glad you’re getting along,” he said, sounding a little uncertain. “You’re both so… funny, and clever, I knew you’d be friends.”
“We are not friends,” corrected Yoongi. “And if he makes more stupid jokes next time, he's going to regret it.”
“So, you’re coming back, then?” asked Seokjin immediately. “You’ll be here next week?”
Yoongi looked from Seokjin’s eager face to Hoseok’s hopeful one. He should say no – this was just supposed to be a one-time favour. He didn’t have the energy to get involved with a group of terrible amateur musicians. But then again…
“I might try out a few more rehearsals,” he said. “Just as moral support,” he added quickly, as Hoseok broke into excited squeals. “I’m not going to practice, or learn the pieces or… care about the group, or anything.”
“That’s fine,” said Seokjin. “Showing up is enough - luckily, you have a viola genius to take care of all the hard parts.”
“For the last time, you’re not a genius.”
Seokjin patted Yoongi on the head, patronisingly. “You’ll admit it one day. Everyone falls for my charm in the end.”
“Never going to happen,” muttered Yoongi. But as Seokjin grinned at him, his whole face crinkling up, he wasn’t so sure after all.