Characters: Min Yoongi x Reader
A/N: Au! You don’t hear music until you fall in love
It’s been a long time since I actually posted anything, and this has been sitting in my drafts for the longest time. I recently had something bad happen to me so the only way I felt I could at least hold myself together was with some much needed Yoongi fluff (something tells me it’ll turn into angst though, so just beware). It’s not great, I’m trying to get back into my writing, but it’s something, so here you go.
‘You make me feel something. You make me hear something.’
Piano was his pastime, the one thing that kept him grounded.
His reasons, while of beauty and heartfelt selflessness, were all the while melancholic. They echoed of a boy who had no hope in himself, so he thrived when putting it into the world. What he couldn’t give himself, he would give others; in regards to hope, and music.
Truth be told, Min Yoongi could not hear a single note he ever played. He couldn’t hear the wonders he created with his fingers upon ivory and pitch black keys. He could only feel them, as if an extension of his own soul. At first, he’d learnt when he was a child. The vibration of a single note sent shivers up his spine, as if it were meant to be. His teacher, a man who had happily been married for a sum of 38 years, was familiar to the chime and the voice of a piano, finding himself rather impressed with Yoongi’s musical ability, despite his own obliviousness.
Today was no different from the last day, or the one that came before. Sitting in a park gazebo, adorned with flowers of the spring, and a lovely public piano that had been maintained by the community. In a world where music was the representation of love, anything that produced such a blessing was treasured.
Couples walked past, to and fro, slowly trailing across the path of fine stones, admiring the lush green of the grass and the sweet melody of Yoongi’s talent. They could all hear him, and he couldn’t even hear himself. Sometimes, he would envy them. Purely because he wished to be able to hear what others could, and hated being clueless and deprived. Other times, it would bother him little, or not at all. Because as long as he felt the music, as long as his muscles reacted when he pressed the piano keys, he was fine.
As a young child, Yoongi had always found confusion in the workings of love. Why couldn’t platonic or family love constitute as a deep enough emotion? He was certain he loved his mother and father, yet no music would fill his ears. He knew he had fallen in love with the way piano made him feel, and he had been certain no person could ever make him feel a romantic love that rivaled that.