Archive of Our Own

Fell fast, ended faster, yeah

Late night conversations, led to complications

Now my heart is in my hands

*

Prelude No.4 

"That's beautiful." Seokjin says.

The pianist freezes. His pale, slender hands still over the piano keys, and the song that had once filled the room comes to a jarring halt. When he looks up, Seokjin wishes he hadn't interrupted. Perhaps it's the low light in the dim classroom, with all of its curtains closed, or perhaps it's the boy's long hair casting shadows on his face, but Seokjin feels like he's intruding, like he's stepped into darkness that he isn't welcome in. Seokjin's awed smile fades.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you-" Seokjin tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. He finds the difference between the two of them almost comical. Seokjin's hair is a soft brown, and his pink sweater clings loosely to his frame. The boy's turtleneck is tight and his hair is dark - as black as the night sky ahead of them. "I just heard you from my classroom and the song was so pretty that I thought I would- Yeah."

There's a pause as the boy considers him. Seokjin rubs the back of his neck nervously, feeling like he's made a grave mistake. He knows his ears are turning pink, but the darkness in the room reassures him that it isn't visible. There's just enough light that Seokjin can see the boy's legs uncross, and when he runs a hand through his hair, Seokjin's heart stutters a little. The pianist's eyes glint in the moonlight. They seem to have worlds. inside of them.

"Thank you." The pianist says. He has this soft, grounding voice that's meant for music, and there's a smile in his tone. "It's Chopin. Prelude No.4."

Encouraged, Seokjin steps into the room.

"It sounded..." Seokjin searches for the words, and gives the pianist an embarrassed smile. "It sounded sad."

"Well, it was played at his funeral."

Surprised, Seokjin giggles and hides it behind his hand. It's a completely inappropriate response, but the boy's smile widens into a grin at the sound of his laugh.

"Could you play it again?"

The pianist blinks at him. He's rather pretty, up close. As Seokjin steps closer he sees long eye lashes, delicate features. The pianist's eyes crinkle a little, warm with a smile, and he shrugs and turns back to the piano.

"Why not?" He asks.

Seokjin stands as the song begins again. It's sad and suffocating, and it hurts to listen to. Seokjin's eyes flutter shut. He rests his hand on the top of the piano, and lets the sound wash over him. Seokjin has always loved music. He's always wanted to sing. There's not much time to practice, between studies and his role as a prefect and tutoring younger students and his part time job, but he never loses his love for it. Never once has the passion for music inside of him went away.

The song is short - it's over after a few minutes. Seokjin's eyes open, and he faces reality again.

"You're welcome." The boy says, but there's this tiny smile on his face. It's proud and it's welcoming, too.

"Sorry," Seokjin says, "I just- really liked it. I wanted to hear it again."

The pianist shifts on the seat and pats the free space.

"Come sit." He says, "Not many people come here to listen to me."

There's a pause before Seokjin slips onto the chair beside him. The chair is small - their knees brush slightly as the pianist begins to play again, this time a song that feels brighter, more cheerful. Moonlight falls onto their hair and the backs of their necks, and Seokjin is reminded that he needs to get home soon. He's already late for dinner, and afterwards he has to study more. Yet he lets himself be soothed by the piano sounds.

"Which grade are you in?" Seokjin asks, "I haven't seen you before."

"I'm in the year below you," The pianist murmurs, "You're Kim Seokjin, right?"

Seokjin nods.

"The prefect." The boy drawls, punctuating it with a note. "I've heard of you."

At the teasing tone in the pianist's voice Seokjin bristles. He knows what the others think of him - knows they laugh about him when he isn't looking, for working too hard and being too strict. His studies leave little time for friendship and perhaps they think him strict, or too serious. His brother has always told him he has one of those faces that are closed off, aloof, but Seokjin doesn't understand. He doesn't know how to be anyone else.

"Have you." Seokjin says, and it isn't a question.

"You're not what I expected," The boy says, sending Seokjin a crooked smile, "I thought you'd be more... stuck up."

Seokjin feels more and more uncomfortable, the line of his shoulders growing stiff. He feels his heart rate go faster, his breathing grow more shallow.

"I'm Yoongi." 

Seokjin gives the pianist a curt nod.

"Why are you here?" Yoongi asks, "To give me detention for playing the piano after hours?"

If he's honest, Seokjin has had a hard day, and the evening isn't even over yet. The pianist's prodding, his teasing, glinting eyes, make him angry, make him hurt, and he stands quickly from the chair. He's no longer soothed by the piano, and is thankful when Yoongi's hands still over the keys.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you." He asks, feeling anxious and wrong, so very wrong.

"That's not what-" Yoongi sighs, running his hands softly over the surface of the piano keys. "Sit back down, Seokjin-sii."

"I have somewhere to be. I'll be leaving now."

"Hm." Yoongi raises an eyebrow, "More studying, right?"

What is it that Seokjin does, to make everyone treat him like this? Why did a late night conversation that started with such promise end up with Seokjin feeling even worse than before? Until he'd heard the beautiful song, he'd been resting on his desk, tears stinging behind his eyes. The music had been comforting. It had been a warm hug that said, you're not alone. And for just this once, Seokjin had left his work behind, and he'd walked towards the music.

But in reality, Yoongi is just like everyone else. Seokjin turns away from the piano.

"Yah, don't be silly. Sit back down."

"I have to leave." Seokjin says, not looking at him, "And I suggest you do, too, before the janitor arrives."

Once Seokjin leaves the room, there's silence. Yoongi sighs and turns back to the piano, but no music comes to him. Truthfully, he likes Seokjin - he likes his shy smile, his pretty eyes, the way he hides his laugh behind his hand. Who could blame him, for wanting to flirt with the older boy who he's never had an excuse to speak to? Seokjin was the first person to listen to him, truly listen to him, since he moved to this school last year. So he'd teased him, half heartedly, and ruined it.

There had been something hurt, in Seokjin's eyes. Yoongi shakes it off. Prelude No.4 feels different on his fingers, now.

*

Ave Maria

"A prefect, smoking?"

The teasing, soft voice feels familiar. Seokjin is leaning against the school wall, his eyes closed, his mouth wrapped around a cigarette. He blows out a ring of smoke into the cold air and cracks an eye open to watch Yoongi walk towards him through the dark. Yoongi is wearing this long hoodie, his hair tucked behind his ears and his smile is sheepish. He seems cautious as he rests on the wall beside Seokjin. He's smaller than Seokjin. It's... cute. He's really cute.

"Don't tell." Seokjin says, giving him a small, shy smile. "I just needed a break."

"We all do, sometimes." Yoongi says, "Give me a light?"

So Seokjin leans forward and sets the end of Yoongi's cigarette alight. They're close for a moment, and their foreheads almost brush. Seokjin's eyes get caught on the warm curve of Yoongi's mouth before he clears his throat and steps away. He knows he's blushing but, well, he could just blame it on the cold.

"I'm sorry about before." Yoongi says, looking up at Seokjin. 

The apology sets a warm glow alight in Seokjin's chest. The air grows lighter between them, and Seokjin blows out another ring of smoke.

"I suppose I'll forgive you." Seokjin says, and delights in the way Yoongi cackles.

"Are you always at the school this late?"

"Are you?" Seokjin retorts.

"Sure." Yoongi shrugs, "I don't have a piano at home. I can't afford one."

Oh, Seokjin thinks. He has a piano at home. It sits empty in his living room.

"What about you? Why are you here?" Yoongi asks. There's no trace of hostility in his eyes. In fact, his eyes are warm, and Seokjin gets lost in them for a moment before he turns back to the stars.

"Sometimes I tutor after school." He says, "Other times I just study."

"That's a lot of effort just to stay away from home, Seokjin-sii."

Seokjin bristles again.

"That's not the reason-"

"Sorry, I should've phrased that better." Yoongi holds up his hands, smiling encouragingly, "Look, I understand. Trust me. I mean, that's another reason I stay here too."

"You don't want to go home?"

"I live alone, so there's not much home to go back to." Yoongi shrugs. "Yah, don't look at me like that. It's just the landlord won't let me get a cat."

Seokjin smiles again, shy and bright. The conversation has eased some of the anxiety that had been creeping up on him all day, climbing onto his chest and restricting his breathing. He puts out his cigarette and turns to Yoongi, and they smile at each other. An understanding rises between them, under the starry sky. It's a step towards friendship.

"Do you wanna come listen to me again?" Yoongi asks, "It's fine if you don't, it's just- nobody ever does. It would be nice, to have you there. If you want."

Oh. Seokjin thinks of Yoongi's music, so pretty, so wonderfully sad, and doesn't understand why no one would want to listen to such a wonderful sound. Perhaps Yoongi feels the same loneliness that Seokjin does. To always be performing for someone, but never being watched, praised, understood.

"Yeah." Seokjin says, pulling his sweater sleeves over his hands. "Yeah, I do."

"Come on then," Yoongi smiles, "It's cold out."

He walks beside the pianist, their sleeves brushing, and looks up at the night sky. Yoongi hums as they walk, swinging his arms back and forth.

"That's beautiful." Seokjin says, "What is it?"

"Ave Marie." Yoongi says in a hushed voice, as if he's telling him a secret, "Shall I play it for you?"

"Please." Seokjin says, and the back of their hands brush. The night smells like smoke, and sounds like a piano forte.

*

Serenade No. 10

After that, Seokjin spends almost every weekday evening by the piano, listening to Yoongi play.

It's how they become friends (and, Seokjin learns later, how they fall in love). Music is intimacy, after all - songs becomes emotion themselves, and whatever misunderstandings and late night conversations they struggle through, the two of them always have the piano to fall back on. Sometimes, when they argue, Yoongi will play Seokjin a song. And they will speak without words.

This night, Seokjin shrugs on his coat and closes his textbooks. It's easier to study when he knows he'll get to hear Yoongi play later. He carries his textbooks out of the classroom in his arms and steps through the shadows towards the music room. As he does, Seokjin feels his heart grow light and warm.

"There's this song I love," Yoongi says, as soon as Seokjin steps inside. He isn't sitting at the piano, tonight - he's lying on the floor in his coat, looking up at the high ceiling. "But I can't play it."

Seokjin rests his textbooks on top of the piano and smiles. He sits by Yoongi's feet.

"Why not?"

"Serenade 10." Yoongi murmurs, "It's played with 13 instruments and it's the most- the most beautiful thing you'll ever hear."

Seokjin smiles.

"I want to hear it played live, once." Yoongi breathes, "Just once."

"I'm sure you will."

"You think so?"

"I know so." Seokjin says. 

Yoongi sits up and smiles at him, his messy hair curling around his face. It's always been long, growing down the back of his neck, but Seokjin has found he likes it more lately. He doesn't understand why - it's technically the same style it's always been. But lately, Seokjin has been noticing how it frames Yoongi's face, how it suits the colour of his eyes, and he doesn't know why.

"What?" Yoongi asks, nudging him with his shoe.

"Nothing," Seokjin shoves his foot away, "Play me a song."

"I don't play on demand." Yoongi grumbles.

"Yes you do." Seokjin jokes, and Yoongi sticks out his tongue.

Instead of standing to play the piano, Yoongi reaches inside of his coat pocket and pulls out a bottle. Seokjin gasps.

"Is that alcohol?"

"It's Friday." Yoongi shrugs.

"We're at school-"

"Oh, come on." Yoongi laughs, "It's good. Look, I chose one you'll like."

He holds out the bottle to Seokjin, and there's this sweet look on his face that says please. Seokjin sniffs and turns his head away.

"No."

"Come on, hyung," Yoongi pleads, and Seokjin flushes. It's the first time Yoongi has spoken to him casually, and it turns his cheeks pink. "Let's have a little fun. No one's around, and the janitor likes you too much to tell on us."

"Well-"

"I know you want to." Yoongi says, with this mischievous little smile, and Seokjin gives in.

The alcohol burns. It's sweet, though, and Seokjin sighs. Lets it relax him. This was a good idea, he thinks, and Yoongi's wine stained smile matches his own.

"I'm not playing you anything tonight," Yoongi says, "I feel too-"

"What?"

Yoongi pauses, considering. Starlight touches the edges of his hair.

"Shook up." He decides.

"Why?"

There's a pause. Yoongi tilts his head, and considers him. 

"You're clueless." He decides, and takes another swig from the bottle.

In the dark, cold music room they take turns drinking wine and talking. Seokjin thinks he could spend a year like this, in just this moment, with the taste of fruit on his tongue and his legs growing stiff underneath him.

"Tell me a secret," Seokjin says, in a hushed voice. He's a little dizzy.

"Huh?"

"Tell me a secret."

Yoongi grins, all gummy and cute, and rests his chin on his hand.

"A secret," He says. Seokjin watches Yoongi think about it, and then watches as his smile fades. "You know what my secret is? I'm really fucking lonely."

The words are in the air, now, hovering above their heads. Vulnerable, scared. Seokjin nods. 

"It's like- You're the only person who listens to me play, you already know that. But it's not just that, it's everything. It's-" Yoongi pauses, "Nobody takes my dream of playing piano seriously. It's like... I have to be academic to mean something to my family, to the world."

Seokjin understands this more than most. Yoongi continues speaking.

"And you know I'm trans, right? Look, that's not why I left home, my parents supported me, I left because I wanted to be alone. But the thing is... I don't know anyone else like me and that's hard, hyung. Because you're great, but you'll never be able to get it."

It's hard, not being able to share that with Yoongi, Seokjin thinks. But it's not his to share.

"Does it ever stop?" Yoongi asks, quietly. 

"What, loneliness?" Seokjin shuffles forward and rests his chin on Yoongi's knees, "No. But I can share it with you."

"Huh?"

"That's my secret too." Seokjin gives him a smile, and shares this moment with him. There's no song playing, but it feels like there is. "I'm lonely too, Yoongichi. I have to study and I have to live this life that's already been given to me. And I don't want to complain about it, because I'm grateful for what I have. But along the way I somehow lost everyone, and I don't have anyone left."

Then Yoongi smiles back. He understands.

"Except you." Seokjin says, just as Yoongi says, "Except me."

Seokjin has never heard Serenade 10, but it sounds like this, he thinks. He knows it like he knows he'll never listen to anyone else play piano again, except if they're Min Yoongi.

*

Nocturnes

The first time Yoongi sees Seokjin having a panic attack is outside of a classroom. 

It's late enough that Seokjin's fast breathing is the only sound in the school. He feels like he's suffocating. There are finals coming up, and the stress had gradually built into this huge, insurmountable thing. All he can think of is, what if he fails? What if he disappoints his family? What if he- And the ifs come, and they come, and they are visions so dark and so terrifying that all Seokjin can do is curl into himself on the rough carpet and sob, breathless.

When he hears footsteps coming towards him, Seokjin ignores them. But something in him is comforted when he feels small warm arms wrap tightly around him.

"Hey," A soft voice says, a familiar voice. Yoongi, Seokjin thinks, with a little relief. "Hey, Seokjinnie, it's okay."

And, as he's been taught, Seokjin tries to slow his breathing. Count to ten, then twenty. Yoongi doesn't try and help, just stays beside him, but it means everything. As embarassing as it is, it means the world for someone to be there for him in those dark moments. 

(Yoongi tells him later the song he had thought of in those minutes was Nocturnes. There's a build into this painful crescendo, and then these smaller, gentler notes. When Yoongi plays it for him, Seokjin understands.)

The first time Seokjin sees Yoongi cry is in his bedroom.

It's not the first time in Yoongi's apartment. Seokjin sits cross legged on the bed, opposite his friend, looking gently at the pianist as Yoongi cries. It's a lot, hyung, is all he says. It's a lot. And then it just... spills out of him. The pain of leaving home, the stress of balancing his studies and his friends and the piano, the exhaustion his depression makes him feel. 

You're brave, Seokjin says. Takes his hands. Thinks of Nocturne. You're brave and you can do it. He's always had this mindset, that life is nothing without love and hard work. To him, Yoongi represents both.

"Do you think so?" Yoongi asks, eyes red with tears.

Seokjin squeezes his hands.

"I know so."

*

Misunderstandings

"I didn't know you could play," Yoongi breathes, awed.

Seokjin doesn't answer, and continues playing the piano in his living room. He doesn't know how to say, I haven't for years. He doesn't know how to say, you taught me to love music again. He doesn't know how to explain that all he does is write songs for Yoongi, nowadays. So he doesn't.

Yoongi is standing behind him, so close he can feel the breaths on the back of his neck as he sits at the piano. Seokjin plays the song, his song, clumsily, but with love.

"What is this?" Yoongi asks. "I've never heard it before."

"That's because it's mine." Seokjin murmurs, "It's called misunderstandings."

The song reaches it's climax, and Seokjin breathes out, his heart carrying him over the last few notes. This song was written with a memory in mind. The first time he met Yoongi, awkward and shy and, afterwards, hurt. Learning to be friends with him had been the best decision Seokjin ever made, even if it was difficult. After all, nothing worth having is without effort.

"You wrote it?" Yoongi's voice sounds thick. "It's pretty."

"I wrote it for you," Seokjin says, his ears turning pink. The night may be dark, but there are lamps in the living room - surely Yoongi sees the blush on the back of his neck. Seokjin doesn't understand it. He's always been shy, but it's never been fluttering like this, a nervous sort of anticipation that makes him feel warm. "Because you always play for me."

"Jinnie." Yoongi says. He rests his hands on the back of Seokjin's shoulders, and Seokjin fingers stumble and miss a note, "I... Thank you."

He can't concentrate on anything, not the song, not the moon. Seokjin lets out a shaky sigh, the weight of Yoongi's hand on his shoulders the only thing grounding him. Why, Seokjin thinks, his heart pounding in his ears. But it's not the uncomfortable racing pulse because of anxiety. It's something else.

The song finishes. Seokjin's fingers are trembling when he closes the piano lid and rests his hands on his lap.

"What did you think?" Seokjin asks, "I know I have a long way to go. The song has lyrics, too, I just haven't finished them yet. And you're so much better than me, and I haven't written in a while, but-"

"Hyung," Yoongi says, very quietly. "Hyung, look at me."

Seokjin turns his head and looks up at Yoongi. He's looking down at him with a soft smile. His eyes are shining, and when one of his hands rises to tangle in Seokjin's hair, he looks like he might cry.

"I love it." He murmurs, "I've gotten so used to you listening to me that I forgot what it was like to listen."

There's a silence.

"Thank you." Yoongi says.

Then he leans down and kisses Seokjin.

It's gentle. Yoongi's warm lips touch his own, and the hand on the back of Seokjin's head pulls him closer, gently, tilts Seokjin's head so that Yoongi can kiss him deeper. Seokjin melts, wrapped in Yoongi's smell, of coffee and fresh shampoo. He thinks he can hear misunderstandings playing in the background.

Then Seokjin realises what's happening and goes stiff. He pulls himself out of Yoongi's arms and stands, quickly, on shaky legs.

"What are you doing?" He asks, his voice loud with nerves. 

"What do you mean?" Yoongi sits in the chair by the piano, still. Smiling, his head tilted. His lips are pink from Seokjin's lip gloss. "I think it was fairly obvious what I was doing."

"You know what I mean. Why did you-"

"What, kiss you?" Yoongi smiles, as if it's not a big deal, "Because I like you, idiot. Because I thought that we-"

And as the afterglow of the kiss wears off, Yoongi's smile fades away. He looks small, all of a sudden. His face crumples as he realises.

"I.. thought we were on the same page."

Seokjin is still stuck on I like you. He's always had this plan, for his life - study, go to college, work for the family business, get a wife and children, live how he's supposed to. Yoongi has shaken it up. He can still feel that kiss, warm on his lips, sweet as sugar. It feels just like a song. How had this happened? When had he...

Fallen in love.

He's in love with Yoongi. Maybe he has been all along, since he heard Prelude No. 4 from along the corridor.

"Look, I'm sorry, hyung." Yoongi stands quickly. He hides his face and grabs his coat from the coat rack quickly. "Forget it, I shouldn't have- I'll just go, I'm sorry."

Seokjin, too stunned by his realisation, can't stop him.

The door slams shut behind Yoongi.

Seokjin doesn't know how long he stands there in the living room before he falls into the seat and begins to play the piano again. It feels like a lifetime of wonder, of oh, oh this is why it felt like this, this is why every song he played was so beautiful to me.

*

Late night conversations.

By now, Seokjin knows Yoongi makes it to the music room around 7.

His extra classes finish at 6, but Yoongi wanders around the grounds afterwards for around an hour before he gets here. Seokjin has always found it an endearing habit of his - sometimes he can see Yoongi from his classroom, walking amongst the trees, and it always lifts his spirits.

Technically, the janitor should close up around 6, but he knows by now that Yoongi and Seokjin are here, and so he stays later. Sometimes he'll chat with them - other times, he drinks tea in the office. This is how they've spent so many nights together, warm and happy, until the janitor comes hours later to send them home with a fond smile.

(Don't you have a family to get back to? Seokjin asked, once. The janitor just smiled, and didn't say anything. Perhaps he just likes the sound of the piano, Seokjin thinks. But deep down he knows that the janitor is just lonely, too.)

Tonight, Seokjin is the one sitting at the piano. He runs his fingers along the keys Yoongi has touched a million times. Without him, Seokjin thinks, where would I be? Yoongi had brought music to him.

At around five to 7, he hears footsteps in the corridor. And he begins to play.

It's the song he wrote following Yoongi's confession. It works as a conversation, low and high notes moving back, and forth, back, and forth, eventually coming together and rising, falling, until there's no more notes left to play. Seokjin closes his eyes. He can feel Yoongi watching him in the doorway, and he's terrified, but he's also... he's also brave.

Most of all, Seokjin isn't lonely anymore.

The song ends. Seokjin turns to smile at Yoongi.

"It's called late night conversations." Seokjin says, "It's yours."

Yoongi just stands and watches him with an unreadable expression. Is this how Yoongi had felt, that first day they met, when Seokjin had interrupted him playing Prelude No.4? 

"You know all of my life I've had these rules, for everything." Seokjin says. He turns in his seat and folds his hands in his lap, and tries to look Yoongi in the eye when he speaks. "I made this plan for what my future would be like, and then you came along and you-"

"What?" Yoongi won't look at him. He's scuffing his feet on the floor. "I ruined it? You wasted your time with me?"

"No, of course not. You-" Seokjin looks away, too, his heart in his throat. "You changed me. I always thought I had to make my family proud by doing everything they wanted me to do, but all I ever loved was music. And you brought it back to me, Yoongi. You made me think there were new ways of living."

Yoongi looks up. His eyes are like starlight, like a song.

"I love music. I love the piano. I love sitting with you, at night." Seokjin stares at the moonlight on his shoes. "And I've never been in love before, but I love you."

"What?"

"I-" Seokjin swallows, his face turning pink, "I love you, Yoongi."

My heart, Seokjin thinks, is in my hands. He can hear it singing.

"Say it again." Yoongi says, and there's this lovely grin on his face, and Seokjin's heart stutters.

"Don't tease me." Seokjin says.

And the silence is warm and promising. There's still music in it.

"You know, late night conversations is made to be played by two." Seokjin says, "Do you want to play it with me?"

Yoongi's grin grows brighter.

"Yeah," He says. When he walks towards Seokjin, his footsteps sound like music notes. "Yeah, I do."