I remember that time we first met.

When you entered the room cleaving to your mother's hand. The sparkle in your eyes and the smile stuck to your childish cheeks. The image of an innocent, childish You, still burns fresh in my memories.

I remember the awe, the wonder and excitement that flickered bright in your eyes when your tiny fingers touched me. The way they shook as if they'd mar the smooth texture. And the care with which you toyed with me. Like treading unfamiliar waters in the name of adventure. Scared and brave at the same time.

"I feel so nice Mum! I feel so nice!"

I remember those words you spilled, jumping at the balls of your feet draping your body over me with delight. The curve of your lips, the deepest I'd seen you smile.

Do you remember how you claimed to not know why? Why only looking me felt nice?

Those endless hours you spent on me. Where melodies were chaotic and harmonies incompetent? That time when symphonies were nursery rhymes and lullabies? Wherever your hands took you.

Think back to those times, the now grown up You, and recall how you slept with your hands still playing me. Your head lolling onto the top of my own. Those time when time was but a word to describe the moments of you and I.

That time in which you were smaller than me.

내 기억의 구석 한 켠에 자리잡은 갈색 피아노
어릴 적 집 안의 구석 한 켠에 자리잡은 갈색 피아노

I remember that time when you entered elementary school.

The age where other things muddled with your time with me. Friends, school and catching up with grownups. The age when your visits to me dwindled and stopped at one point of time.

From the small space that I took in the corner of the room you'd seemed to have forgotten about, I saw you. Through the window, I did. I saw you run to your friends, playing basketball in the summer sun and building snowmen in the winters. The sound of your shoes sloshing in the rain water still echoes in my memories sometimes.

Of laughter that sounded too far away.

I remember that age, when time took over my body. The dirt piling up. The beautiful me, turning old and dusty.

Just like my diminishing appearance, you didn't know then. The value of me that I believed you protected, was lost to you somewhere along the passage of that age. No matter where you were, I always defended that spot.

"I never thought it'd be like this. Don't go like this" You imagined me saying.

I said. "Leaving me behind, don't worry about a thing. You'll do fine on your own. Now looking at the grown up You, I remember the first time we met. You've grown so much. We may have had our rocky endings, but don't dare be sorry towards me. We're bound to meet at some point in life again, at that point greet me enthusiastically like an old friend."

In the age when your height grew taller than my own.           

내 기억의 구석 한 켠에 자리잡은 갈색 피아노
어릴 적 집 안의 구석 한 켠에 자리잡은 갈색 피아노

I remember then, when we met again.

The fourteen year old You who stood silent and unsure in front of me. You, who came upon me by chance, having matured by now.

When you opened the doors while looking for a hiding place. And lifted the white sheet that had kept me hidden. You who dusted off the grim. And as you gingerly placed your fingers on my rims.

The awkward air that enclosed us as you me again, lifted in a jiffy; as those times came back to you. Familiarity covering up for lost time.

Then, you wept remembering the you and I then.

"Even though I was gone for long. Without repulsion you accepted me." You cried. "You who accepted me. Who comforted me. Without you I'm nothing." You repeated as you sat with me until dawn.

Then, when the rising sun heard us promise to each other, "Until forever, don't take back your hands. I don't want to lose you again either."

Then, when you found me again.           

내 기억의 구석 한 켠에 자리잡은 갈색 피아노
어릴 적 집 안의 구석 한 켠에 자리잡은 갈색 피아노

Think back, to the end of your teens.

When you started dreaming. A dream that included me. A dream of us. A dream frowned upon. By parents, society, teachers and friends. A dream you were too scared to realize; too scared to give up.

Think back to the day we couldn't see an inch infront of us. Crying. Laughing. Back when we cried together. Reliving the times that had once been filled with laughter. When we suffered together. Rebelled together.

Think back, how you rebelled. The fights, the beatings. The broken vases; plates; Trusts. Your parents, demanding you get your head on straight.

How, you took up a job to support yourself. How your parents pulled back. The tired nights and fruitless days. Resentment building up as the seconds turned to months.

Think back to when it became too hard. When your insomnia only brought back more wakeful days.

Think back to the instance when I tried to make it alright.           

내 기억의 구석 한 켠에 자리잡은 갈색 피아노
어릴 적 집 안의 구석 한 켠에 자리잡은 갈색 피아노

Do you remember when you finally broke?

Do you remember, that night when you broke your shoulder? Delivering pizzas finally got its toll on you. When your cycle crashed into that truck?

Do you remember, that broken will with which you seeked me out that night? When you decided that this was all too much. That nothing was worth this. That your dream had ended. That everything was over.

Remember, when you realized you couldn't play me anymore?

Holding that broken shoulder you kept saying, "I can't do this anymore. I want to give up!"

Remember every time you called to give,  I told you, "Punk! You can really do it!"

Yes. Yes, remember! Remember that time when you were fed up and lost. When your way had lost itself in despair. You pushed me away. Resented us meeting again.

But I stuck by your side. I didn't let go.

That's when you said, "You don't have to say anything. So don't let go of my hand. I won't let you go either. My birth and the end of my life, you will be there to watch it all."

내 기억의 구석 한 켠에 자리잡은 갈색 피아노
어릴 적 집 안의 구석 한 켠에 자리잡은 갈색 피아노

*****

"Hurry up Hyung!" Jimin calls out. He is carrying one of the heavier card boxes that contain the electric heater or something of the like.

Yoongi chuckles as he turns the key into the slot. Opening the doors brings back a rush of old home smell and a breath of reminisce as he enters his childhood abode.

They enter the house, a single storey villa that doesn't exactly live up to its name. It's a cosy, clean and bright little house that has a little too many windows; but Jimin had always wanted a home with a little too many windows. The rooms are all scattered in a way that allows the residents to see every part of it from the entrance.

A simple, two bedroom, single family home, that is too small for his reputation. But one that he holds too close to his heart to mind.

As they shuffle in the moving boxes and suitcases Jimin can't help but breath out his gratitude to Yoongi's parents. "I'm so glad Mom and Dad don't mind us staying here hyung! I love this place!"

Yoongi lets out a chortle as he watches Jimin dance around the room, opening all the windows in the process. "It's my home, you brat! My name is on the property docs remember?" He says as he chases his partner down. Taking him in an embrace, Yoongi rests his chin on Jimin's shoulders from the back and mumbles into the younger boy's ears, "and soon yours will be too."

The blush that creeps into Jimin's cheeks, sneaks along Yoongi's neck too as they stand in front of the window. Rocking softly in the morning breeze. Unpacking forgotten for a moment as they simple sway against each other.

Soon, they are back to unpacking again. And as he unpacks Yoongi stops to take in the scene before him, from his task of hanging up his awards and trophies in the living room.

Jimin, tottering around in the master bedroom, unpacking his own trophies and certificates from the dancing and vocal academy, to hang them along with Yoongi's. The boy walks towards him, kissing him, before hanging his own certificates next to Yoongi's and placing his trophies beside his lovers.

Yoongi smiles softly. Contently.

The home is soon set. And they soon make to leave. Promising to come back tomorrow with their final luggage and clothes.

And Yoongi closes the door with one last glance before he opens it tomorrow again.

The kitchen is clean, and already set. With Jimin's mother's china set sitting at the top shelf. After much trial and error, Yoongi had finally got down to his knees to allow Jimin stand on his back to reach the top self to shove the fragile set into it.

Their bedroom in a mess; Jimin's luggage opened but unpacked scattered around the space haphazardly. In the middle of the room sits their bed, awkwardly waiting for its masters to give it a proper place to stay in.

The sun room is open and the light filters through the window on the top. Yoongi's photography equipment placed against the walls, next to Jimin's painting canvas.

The other two rooms, remain empty, waiting to be filled. But Yoongi hasn't thought that far yet. Jimin wouldn't have either, Yoongi knows. Somewhere inside his heart though, Yoongi knows he's not ready yet. He wants to be, but just not yet.

In the living room. In the corner wall are where all his accomplishments proudly stand. His trophies, next to Jimin's. His wedding photo. Their first album together. Everything he holds dear to his heart. And his first love.

Taking up a space in the corner of his memories, is a brown piano.
Taking up a space in the corner of  his childhood home, is a brown piano.

내 기억의 구석 한 켠에 자리잡은 갈색 피아노
어릴 적 집 안의 구석 한 켠에 자리잡은 갈색 피아노

Taking up a space amongst all he is proud of, just below his wedding photograph, is the brown piano.