Yoongi/The Notes

**The Notes** by **Yoongi**, written in the form of diary entries.

The red flames spiraled high. The house that I lived in until this morning was in a blaze. Those who recognized me raced towards me screaming. The neighbors were frantic. There was no way to get in, the fire engine could not access it they said. I stopped in my tracks. It was the end of summer. It was the beginning of autumn. The sky was blue and the air was dry. What was I supposed to feel, what I was supposed to do; I didn't know. And then, the thought, Mom. That next moment, with a crash, the house became rubble. The house was taken by the blaze, no, the house, the ceiling, the pillars, the walls, the room I had lived in had become the blaze itself, and like a house built of sand, it collapsed. I watched it, dumbstruck.Someone pushed me aside to hurry forward. They said the fire engine had got in. Another grabbed hold of me and spurred me to answer. That person stared me into the eyes and screamed something at me, but I couldn't hear anything.

"Is someone inside?"
I watched that person dumbly.
"Is your mum inside?"
That person grabbed hold of my shoulders and shook me. I didn't know how I answered.
"No. Nobody's inside."
"What do you mean." A mother from the neighborhood asked.
"What about your mum? Where did your mum go?"
"Nobody's inside."

The words I was saying, I didn't know either. Someone pushed me aside and hurried forward...

I thoughtlessly ditched school, but truthfully I didn't have anywhere to go. It was hot. I had no money, and I had nothing to do. It was Namjoon who said we should go to the beach. The other guys seemed excited, but I didn't particularly feel like it, nor did I dislike the idea.

"Do we have money?" At my question Namjoon made everyone shake out their pockets. A few coins, a few bills.

"So we can't go."

The one who said we could just walk was probably Taehyung. Namjoon made a face begging them to reconsider, but they just chattered away laughing and pretending to roll around on the road before starting to walk. I wasn't in the mood to talk back so I just fell behind. It was midday, so even the gingko trees couldn't provide shade, and the cars kicked up dust as they passed us on the sidewalk-less road.

"Let's go there." It was Taehyung this time too. Or was it Hoseok? I didn't care so I didn't look carefully, but it would have been one of them. I had been walking along with my head down, kicking dirt. When I almost collided with someone I lifted my head. Jimin was standing there as if frozen in place. The muscles in his face trembled as if had seen something terrifying. He was staring at a sign that said "Flowering Arboretum, 2.2 kilometers."

"I didn't want to walk." I heard Jungkook's voice. Sweat dripped from Jimin's face. He went pale as if he might collapse at any second. What is it? I had a strange feeling.

"Park Jimin," I called, but as I expected he didn't budge. I lifted my head again and looked at the sign.

"Hey, it's so hot. Why would we go to an arboretum? Let's go to the beach." I said as if dragging my feet. I didn't know what kind of place the arboretum was, but it didn't seem like we should go. Whatever the reason, Jimin's expression was strange.

"We don't even have money," Hoseok replied.

"That's why we're walking." And Taehyung added,

"If we just walk to the train station we can probably make it." Then Namjoon said,

"Instead we'll just starve at dinner." Jungkook and Taehyung pretended to cry, and Seokjin laughed. Jimin only started to move again once it was decided that we would take the road toward the train station. Walking with his head down and his shoulders trembling, Jimin seemed like a small child. I looked up at the sign again.

The characters spelling "Flowering Arboretum" were gradually getting further away.
 '

I opened the door with a loud slam and took out the envelope from inside the last drawer of my desk. As I turned the envelope around a piano key fell to the floor with a sound. I threw the half-burned piano key in the trash can and laid down on my bed. The emotions that were brought up hadn't simmered down yet. My breathing was a mess. My fingers suddenly covered with singe.

After the funeral ended there was a time when I returned to that house of ash left behind from the fire. When I entered my mother's room, the piano that was burnt to the point of nonrecognition caught my eye. I sank to the floor. I sat there as the sunlight shone through the window. In the midst of the last glimmers of sunlight, a few keys rolled around. What kind of sound would I hear from the keys if I pressed on them? I thought about how many times my mother's fingers had touched them. From the pile of piano keys, I put one of them in my pocket and left the room.

It had been four years since then and the house was always quiet. The silence made people go crazy. After dad went to sleep at 10 p.m. everything became increasingly quieter. It became suffocating. This was how everything functioned. I was tired because I had to live in such silence. I was tired because I had to follow a predetermined time-table. It wasn't simple to follow such a form. But what was significantly harder was living in that house, taking pocket money from Dad, eating dinner with him, listening to his scoldings. Whenever I had an argument with him, I always considered abandoning him and running away from home to live by myself. I never had the courage to actually do so.

I got up from the bed and picked up the piano key from the dustbin under my study desk. I opened the window and the night breeze came in. The things that happened felt like a night breeze slapping me in the face. I used all of my strength to throw the piano key into the cold air. It had been 10 days since I last went to school. Even if I didn't want to, I assumed that I'd be kicked out. I didn't know if it was because of my deteriorated hearing, but I didn't hear the sound of the piano key dropping to the ground. No matter how hard I tried to imagine it, I didn't know what that piano key dropping to the ground sounded like. No matter how much time passed, that piano would not make a sound again.

I told myself I would never play the piano again.

I stopped walking at the clumsy sound of a piano. The only sound in the empty construction site was the popping of a fire someone had lit in an oil drum. I knew the sound of the song that was playing. But why? My drunken footsteps stumbled. I closed my eyes and walked carelessly. As the heat of the fire grew, the piano sound, the night air, and my intoxication all grew fainter.

I opened my eyes at the sudden sound of a horn as a car grazed narrowly past me. In the confusion of the headlight's brightness, the wind of the car's passing, and my own drunkenness I stumbled helplessly. I heard the driver curse at me. As I came to a stop, prepared to curse right back, I suddenly realized I could no longer hear the sound of the piano. Amidst the sound of the blazing fire, the wind, and the silence left in the wake of the car, the piano sound was gone. It seemed to have stopped. Why had it stopped? Who was playing it?

The sparks from the fire surged forth from the drum barrel with a sharp noise. I looked at it for a long moment, spaced out. My face became hot with its warmth. It was at that moment I heard the clanging sound of a fist slamming down onto piano keys. On instinct, I looked behind me. For a moment my blood rushed so rapidly that my breathing became erratic. The nightmares from when I was young. It was like a sound I'd heard there.

Suddenly I was running. Against my own will, I ran towards the music store. My body turned of its own volition to look behind. I felt somehow like that was something I had repeated countless times before. It was a sensation of having forgotten something important.

The music store had a broken window. Someone was sitting in front of the piano. Although many years had passed, I recognized them in an instant. The person was crying. Their hands curled into fists. I didn't want to be involved in someone else's life. I didn't want to comfort anyone else's loneliness. I didn't want to become a person who meant something to anyone. I had no confidence that I could protect them. I didn't have the confidence to be at their side until the end. I didn't want to hurt them. I didn't want to be hurt.

I walked slowly. I wanted to turn back and leave, but I approached them without realizing. A wrong note rang out of the piano. Jungkook lifted his head and looked at me. "Yoongi."
 **7 April year 22**@Smeraldo\_Books: The car had just barely missed me. The remaining buzz of the alcohol all made me feel giddy. Then I realized I couldn't hear the piano anymore. |  | **11 April Year 22**

I walked, not really caring about Jungkook's coming situation. Containers followed the long stretch of railroad tracks.

"It's the fourth container from behind," Jungkook said. "Namjoon and Taehyung are meeting me here," he added.

"I know," I replied. I wasn't really going to go. It was disgusting to get involved with other people. That fact was set in stone.

I would've never thought I'd get as far as to come with Jungkook to this place. As Hoseok opened the door from inside, he looked surprised. When I saw Jungkook behind me, I assumed that I was crossing over as a person who over exaggerated. I side stepped past the two and walked inside the container. I heard the gentle voices of Jungkook and Hoseok trying to coax me into staying for a while. Within minutes Namjoon brought Taehyung. His T-shirt was torn.

"What happened?" Namjoon asked, squeezing Taehyung's shoulder.

"I'm late because I got caught by a police officer. I ran away," Taehyung explained.

Everyone could see Taehyung was nervous that the T-shirt had been torn. Namjoon gave Taehyung a new T-shirt to put on as he put burgers and drinks on a tray. The rest of us stood around awkwardly, not knowing what to do with ourselves. I remembered when we were back in high school, Namjoon was teased. We used to say he'd become an older version of Taehyung. Jungkook moved to the city. We didn't know any other details besides that at the time. There weren't so many occasions when we'd all to been in the same room together.

I don't really remember well. It wasn't like what had happened with Seokjin and Jimin. When Seokjin had snitched on Jimin to the principal and they'd fought in the classroom after school. We'd all been there that time too.

Even though this is our first peaceful gathering we'd had in years I was strangely comfortable.
 **2 May Year 22**

The sheet burnt instantly. Everything was surrounded by the unbearable heat of the fire. The apartment was no longer damp. It no longer smelled damp and moldy. All that was left was pain. The physical pain of the fire burning my fingertips open. My skin was so hot it felt like blisters would form only to be melted off by the heat.

My father's expressionless face came to mind. Music scattered through my thoughts. My father and I were so different. He didn't understand me. I didn't understand him. If I tried, could I persuade him? Probably not. All I could do was hide, rebel, and run away. Then there was a time when I thought whether I was going to get out or not. Then came the fear of cliffs.

What on earth am I running away from? How can I escape from myself? Everything seemed impossible. It sounded like someone was calling, but I did not lift my head. I could not breathe because of the heat and the pain. I had no will to move. I was still able to remember Jungkook. He must have gotten angry. Perhaps he will mourn for me.

I just wanted to sit down and let the fire take me. Both the smoke and heat, pain and fear wanted it all to end here.

I put on a new t-shirt. The me that I saw in the mirror didn't look like me. I was wearing a t-shirt that said "dream" on it, and in all aspects that just wasn't my style. I didn't like that it was red, the word dream, or the way it fit tightly against my body. I took out a cigarette in annoyance and looked for my lighter. It wasn't in the pocket of my jeans. I looked in my back pocket and realized that they took it. Without care, they had taken it out of my hands and threw a lollipop and this t-shirt at me.

I ruffled my hair and stood up from my spot. I heard the sound of a message notification. When I saw the three letters on my phone screen, all of my surroundings around me became brighter and my heart dropped. I broke the cigarette in half as I checked the message. The me in the mirror was smiling. I didn't know what was so great, but the me wearing a tight red colored t-shirt that had the word "dream" on it was smiling like a fool too.
 **15 June Year 22**

I wasn't aware of anything other than the sound of music playing in my head. Not how much I had drunk, nor where I was, nor what I had been doing. I didn't know, and it wasn't important. When I went outside, stumbling, it was already night. I swayed as I walked. I bumped into pedestrians, news kiosks, walls. I didn't care. I just wanted to forget everything.

Jimin's voice was still ringing in my ears. "Hyung, Jungkook..." My next memory was of running like crazy up the hospital steps. The hospital hall had been strangely long and dark. I passed people wearing hospital gowns. My heart pounded. Everyone's faces were too pale. They had no expressions. They all seemed like dead people. The sound of my breathing was harsh inside my own head.

Inside the slightly opened hospital room door, Jungkook was lying there. I turned my head without realizing it. I couldn't look at him. At that moment I suddenly heard the sound of a piano, of flames, of a building crumbling down. I clutched my head and sank down. "This is your fault. If it wasn't for you..." It was my mother's voice- no my voice- no someone's voice. At those words, I was tormented by countless moments. I wanted to believe it wasn't so. But Jungkook was lying there. Jungkook was lying in a hall full of corpse-like patients passing by, I was utterly unable to go inside. I couldn't check for myself. When I stood, my legs threatened to give out. I left with tears flowing. It was funny. I couldn't even remember the last time I had cried.

I went to cross the street, but someone grabbed my arm and I came to a halt. Who was it? No, I didn't care. No matter who it was, it was all the same. Don't come near me. Go away. Just leave me be. I don't want to hurt you either. I don't want to be hurt.

So please, don't come any closer.

What is the reason that the melody keeps coming up after the person who plays the guitar and plays with it disappears? I lay down on the couch and looked at the piano. I was expelled from school and had abandoned my mother's piano. The only thing that was left after the fire. He threw the half-burnt keys out the window of the apartment. I thought I would kill myself. I will never touch the piano again after I find those keys.

I could not wait for the elevator. I jumped down the stairs the next day. I thought I fell asleep at first because of how unbelievable it was that I'd lost them. Suddenly, last night came to mind. Nothing was in the flowerbed below the window.

"The garbage truck just passed by," the security guard said.

I had really and truly lost the only piano keys I had left from my mother's piano. Even after that day, I gave up my music so many times saying 'I will never do it again'.

There was nothing like music. Even when I ran, I knew. Eventually I'll go back up those stairs and slip into submission. I'd start playing music again. For me music was an object. With music I was painful but free. It was confusing but clear at the same time. Fear and confidence, hope and despair... all of the opposite feelings seemed to have come alive.

I wanted to hit the piano, but I wanted to meet myself in a cowardly way, in fact, pretending to be strong. I wanted to cry out, scream, lash out and cry. And I did not want to run away. I wanted to complete the melody I was making with guitar and piano. But this time it seemed possible.