“If you don’t quit that screeching, I will strangle the life from you.” Yoongi’s brows were knitted so tight in both parts aggravation and concentration. Taehyung was perched on the arm rest in front of him, one earbud in while the other was being lassoed in circles, a mindless habit the younger had.

“What, you don’t like my voice?” The pout the other was sporting was nothing more than a farce, the blonde haired boy ignoring it completely.

Apparently it was piss off Yoongi day, because no matter how hard he scribbled down lyrics, pencil to the paper like fire on dry glass, the others were relentless in bothering him for one reason to the next. It had started with Jungkook needing his opinion on a choreographed dance he was working on for a local competition. Then, not even twenty minutes later, Namjoon was bombarding him with questions about his attitude towards Youngjae – apparently the other had been drinking and started blabbing about how he had a potty mouth, which he wasn’t going to deny – clearly wanting the blonde to treat him nicer. It was like he didn’t know him at all.

Now, after having an hour and a half to be in peace, along came Taehyung and his mischief-on-the-brain companion, Hoseok.

“I like your voice when you shut up.” The rapper retorted, pausing his writing, tapping the eraser against the paper as if trying to bring a thought to life.

Taehyung only smirked at his words, his feet swinging to toe at the notebook Yoongi was putting to good use. “When I shut up, I have no voice, therefore that makes no sense.” His tone of voice itself just made the rapper want to knock him out, too, but he kept quiet, the crease in his brow becoming more prominent.

This was his thinking face.

Like clockwork, Hoseok seemed to feel the annoyance rising up, because he took his cue and plopped right smack dab on the bruised portion of his lower back, squishing the blonde boy into the couch as he yelped in pain. As if the dark haired idiot had no sense, he gave a wiggle, causing Yoongi to swing an arm back, jabbing Hoseok right in the gut with as much force as he could muster.

“Get off of me you ing— what the hell has gotten into you two?”

The mother of the house, Jin, was carrying a few stray articles of clothing by, hardly paying attention until he heard Yoongi swear. Like second nature, he sighed and pointed a finger at the group of troublemakers. “Play nice.”

A growl was growing in the back of his throat by now, his skin tingling with the need to hit someone or something with excessive force. Their little wrestling matches usually got to this point the longer they continued but it was never taken beyond play, period.

The others knew him better than to take it personally, of course, so an amused Taehyung merely cackled as Hoseok rolled onto the floor, clutching his stomach. “What was that for? Aish, I think you ruptured something.”

Good riddance, Yoongi thought.

The rapper raised up from his tummy as he had been laying before, kicking the closest foot out at the squirmy pest groaning on the floor. Nicking Hoseok in the thigh this time, Yoongi’s face finally broke and a grin was taking over.

“That’s for you being stupid,” he explained, “you have to learn to leave me alone some day.”

There was a flurry of incomprehensible noises that Hoseok let out as he stood up, turning his attention to Taehyung to shove him off the armrest this time. There was a brief squawking noise when the other fell but it was quickly followed by more off-key singing.

Discouraged from writing any longer, Yoongi flipped his notebook closed and hugged it against his chest, throwing his head back against the couch cushion.

“You having trouble finishing that?” A now curious Hoseok eyed the notebook before reaching a hand out palm up. “Let me check it out. I could help you.”

If he had the energy to laugh, Yoongi would be busting lungs.

“Yeah, sure, how about never.”

“That’s the worst comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“You write the worst lyrics I’ve ever heard.”

“You’ve never even read my work!”

“That’s because I don’t want to!”

The two bickered like children, unaware of Jin shooting them a look as he passed back through the living room. Holding each other’s gaze for a moment, Yoongi noticed the small flick of Hoseok’s eyes away from his own, down towards his notebook, and he narrowly jerked away as the other flung himself at him, making a leap off the couch and on towards the kitchen where he planned to keep a distance between him and his pursuer with the island.

Jin, however, was preparing food. He did not find it humorous when the rapper came pin balling into his space, basically cowering behind him with the damn notebook clutched by a single arm. “Excuse you, Yoongi, I am not going to be a part of – don’t hide here.” Successfully being ignored, Jin decided to grab his mixing bowl and back away. The trick was futile though, as Yoongi merely walked with him, peeking his head around his shoulder to check for Hoseok in case he decided to chase him down.

Soon enough, the kitchen door busted open, slamming into the cabinets behind it. Jin’s scowl intensified and he perched a hand on his hip, his lecture face on, about to deliver the most intense nagging. Just as he opened his mouth, Hoseok took off towards the man behind him and Jin was less than politely shoved to the side, saving the contents of tonight’s supper by sheer luck.

“Just let me see it, Suga. You don’t even know – hell, I could have the best advice.” He pushed off the corner cabinet and took the turn around the island like a champ, Yoongi already racing off back towards the living room. When the two had exited the kitchen, Jin swore under his breath and started on food for the third time.

Hoseok eventually cornered the blonde; it was a matter of time, of course. Yoongi could run when he wanted to but he wasn’t much of a match for the likes of Hoseok or Jungkook – they were on the track and field team growing up, he’d learned.

Palm up, Hoseok reached out again.

Yoongi thought about kneeing him in the groin but even he wasn’t that cruel. After a moment, he looked down to his notebook and back up, evaluating his next course of action. He was just a tad shorter than the other – the chances of escaping were higher but of actually getting away? He didn’t know if he could risk it.

Swallowing hard, he tightened his grip on the notebook and began holding it out as if he was giving it up. Closer, closer, closer. His eyes locked on Hoseok’s face as the other began to grin, thinking he’d won.

That, there, was his mistake.

Just before a corner of the book touched his fingertips, Yoongi shoved forwards and slapped the notebook across Hoseok’s cheek, using that diversion to make a run for the door. Barely taking the time to collect his shoes and a too-thin coat from the hook, the rapper was out the door before he even heard Hoseok’s feet hit the hallway hardwood flooring, signaling he was close. Well, that was too close for his own liking.

Within the most recent pages of his notebook lay the biggest mystery that Yoongi had ever come across. Somehow, someway, for whatever reason, Youngjae’s name had slipped onto not one – but three different pages of attempts at his newest piece.

Everything was still dawning on him – the realization that he was the only one who had access to his notebook at any time. Even when he left it at home, it was hidden between his mattress and the headboard. The other members didn’t take an active interest in his work – at least the ones who lived there – so he didn’t suspect anyone of toying with it.

Even more condemning on his own part – it was in his own handwriting.

But unlike the other unfinished scribbles, the pages that featured Youngjae’s name were not focused on the overwhelming feelings that Yoongi suffered through most of the time – they were not focused on living in hell or trying to survive, not even wall to wall cluttered with swearing and obscene, graphic illustrations. Unlike the others, the ones that featured Youngjae were insightful and soft. They did not focus on the drowning feeling that came with school and living – but instead the moments of clarity and the feeling of inner growth.

They weren’t rainbows and butterflies by any means, of course, but they were the light in the midst of his dark and wild mess of unfinished brain storming sessions.

But just thinking about the problem at hand made his skin crawl.

He obviously had been half asleep, unaware of what he was doing. It was why he couldn’t even remember writing the guy’s name down. Even though, honestly, it was more like a doodle, like that fifth grade bull when you had a crush on someone. He wasn’t going to think about that, he decided, not right now.

Instead, he was going to think about getting somewhere warm for a while. If he could find somewhere quiet and warm to stay until Hoseok left the apartment, there was a possibility he could get some work done. But where would he go? He needed a place to joggle his mind loose from – he wanted to gag just thinking about it again – Youngjae and all of the nonsense at home. These past few weeks had been ridiculous.

Suddenly, he remembered Jungkook and Taehyung’s favorite dance studio that they rented out a lot. They had a year contract with the mirrored room that was about to expire but it would do for now – luckily the group of them had all put their names down and helped pay for the cost of renting the space. Yoongi had been there several times earlier in the year, and a few times during summer, watching and sometimes joining in with various dance practices.

He wouldn’t consider himself a dancer, of course, but he wasn’t too shabby.

The building that housed the practice room was unlocked – thank the guy above for it being open because he didn’t have the key on him – and without thinking, Yoongi made his way inside. It was an instantaneous noise that registered with him; someone was playing the piano. Inwardly cursing about the fact he’d forgotten to check the sign in sheet before he made his way towards the studio door, Yoongi brought a hand to his chin and tapped it indecisively.

He could stay and work, sure, but would he get anything done with the piano echoing off every damn nook and cranny in this place? Probably not. In fact, the more he paid attention, the more the sound became less like simple noise and more like, well, actual music.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Yoongi slipped the notebook inside of his jacket and wandered towards the staircase that seemed to lead up to another floor – maybe this was the instrumental level he had heard about? There were spaces for pianos and guitars and drum sets, allowing people to practice their music here, as well as dance.

As if he was guided by the melody alone, his feet took him to the furthest doorway on the left and he stuck his head around the corner to get a look at the person responsible for the noise. Beautiful noise, but noise.

Their back was to him but he could see a bit of their profile when they’d turn their head his way, eyes closed, seemingly lost in the music. It always amazed him when he could see that passion in person – a part of him wondered if anyone had ever been that awestruck with him when he’d perform his pieces.

Fingers flew over the keys without a second’s hesitation and the rapper knew he was must have learned at a young age. Without error, the music faded off into soft hums as the piece finished. The pianist slouched a bit on the stool and if he could guess a mood by looking at their posture, he’d almost swear they looked disappointed.

But, they had nothing to be disappointed in.

Tucking his stray hair behind his ear, he weighed the options of leaving quietly or waiting around like a fly on the wall with the possibility he may see more of their work. Genuinely interested in watching the other perform for an empty room, he hardly noticed that there was a mirrored section in front of the grand piano to where the musician could see the room behind them – thus, they could see Yoongi.

And Yoongi could definitely see them.

“How long have you been there?”

Oh, god, please tell him that this was a joke.

Yoongi gave silence.

“I said – how long have you been there?”

Yoongi’s mouth dropped open and he immediately went in to denial mode. There was no other way to be with Youngjae turned to him fully now, face all kinds of demanding and surprisingly not red yet. If any of them were blushing, it would definitely be the rapper.

“I wasn’t even – I just came in here to find – you’re the one who is assuming all of this.” Smooth, Yoongi. Real ing smooth.

Youngjae’s face was priceless but the rapper couldn’t even take the time to appreciate it when he was stumbling over even more of his own word vomit.

Since when had he ever talked this much? And why the hell was it directed at the bane of his existence as of late?

That might have been a little exaggerated, but who even cared. “I just heard a piano and it was so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. I didn’t follow you or anything. I was actually getting away from more annoying s at home and you just so happened to be here.”

His tone had shifted to defensive to accusatory (Yoongi couldn’t even tell anymore) and that just wiggled under the younger’s skin. Youngjae shoved off the bench and grabbed his phone, grumbling about how he wasn’t wasting his afternoon being pissed off.

Confused, now, more than shocked, Yoongi couldn’t even control himself.

“It wasn’t loud as in it was annoying, but it was loud. You actually play very well.” It all spilled out, Yoongi’s eyes still glued to the piano as if he was frozen in explanation mode. Snapping out of it, he swiped his tongue over his mouth and stood up straight, crossing his arms over his chest, and in turn, making his notebook fall from his coat.

Youngjae’s attention dropped to the fallen pad of paper and Yoongi’s quickly followed. Oh, no. Reaching down, the rapper scrambled to grab it up, closing the notebook again. Tucking it under his arm this time, he swallowed hard.

Was it hot in here?

Maybe it was just his nerves.

Youngjae, who had been quiet for some time, cocked an eyebrow in a quizzical manner. “What was that?” He took a step or towards the other, holding the strap of his messenger bag with both hands.

“Nothing!” Yoongi’s immediate response was alarming, causing the other to halt for a second, shrugging the thought away for the time being.

“Whatever – I’m heading out. Have fun with that nothing of yours.” The dark haired boy made it where Yoongi was standing, offering him a pointed look in passing.

A split second’s decision had the rapper reaching out a hand, catching Youngjae’s elbow the same way the other had a few days ago when he basically knocked him flat on his face. There was a comfortable quiet within the moment it took them to register the touch. Like normal, Youngjae’s cheeks lit up and Yoongi found himself actually fighting to repress a small smile.

“You never told me you played the piano.” It was obvious, beside the point. Why was he saying things like this? This was Youngjae's job.

“Well, you never exactly asked, did you?”

Caught in his first real loss since they’d started this game – whatever the game was – Yoongi released his arm and nodded his head in confirmation. “Seems you’re right.”

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me and, wow, I have a feeling you don’t admit it often.” This probably wasn’t the time to turn this back on Yoongi seeing as the pair was making great progress in being civil – he just panicked.

“That’s because it doesn’t happen often,” the rapper chewed it with a sigh, rolling his eyes at the other. “Just take my compliment and quit being a bother.”

Yeah – the moment had been successfully ruined.

Youngjae left the studio and Yoongi behind, bracing himself for his walk home in the freezing cold. No matter how chilly he got, the spot on his arm that the other had held onto seemed to keep tingling with a certain warmth. But he’d blame that sensation on the other’s thick-headedness, not on the way he touched him.