“Beethoven..” 

He is certain it was a Beethoven: the atmosphere, the sullen mood, the familiarity. 

It is Beethoven’s, for sure.

But, what was the name of the piece again?

“1st Movement.. Moonlight Sonata?”

He wasn’t quite sure though the notes had already gotten into him. He started walking towards the unfamiliar room, his footsteps matching the pace of the piece’s tempo. The sound of the piano had enslaved his ears, and the resonating melody had surely bewitched his whole being.

It has been a while since he last heard the sound of the beautiful instrument. It was about 6 years... or was it 7? 

It was about 7 years since he last heard a piano being played. It was a huge part of his life: the instrument which left a lot of memories for him to embrace, but almost all of it weren’t even comforting nor quite nice to remember. In fact, the piano left a not-so-nice impression on him, sometimes he finds it too relatable with its keys’ dull color and its emptiness in an absence of the player he misses the most. 

Wait. What was he doing? He should be at his apartment as of now.

He is a stranger to the place. He shouldn’t be wandering around the area at late evening. 

The flight from Korea was exhausting enough to be the reason for him to make his way towards the reserved place for himself immediately, but he cannot deny how he felt the strange feeling of a warm bed on the music he’s enticed with.

He took few more steps towards the room, his teeth gritting in a bit of excitement, fingers lightly gripping his old carrier. Shoving his head between the gap of the slightly opened door, an image of a girl in a pink dress welcomed his expectant eyes.

He was taken aback. The light gasp he made is what was needed to prove how he felt a bit astonished.

The moon was directly shining on her as if it were arms ready to embrace her undeniable elegance. Her dress was just appropriate for the breeze of October. Her hair was a shade between black and brown, its ends resting soundly on her shoulders. The delicate fingers striking the keys were porcelains, her frame looks so fragile on the stool with her right foot upon the piano’s pedal. Her head was moving with the growing madness, her shoulders were rising as she reaches the piece’s .

Though her back was facing him, he can already tell how beautiful she is.

The image of the girl as the music plays right in front of his eyes were enough for him. He knows there’s no need for him to make his presence known to the oblivious player.

He opened the door widely but he made sure not to make any sort of a noise or any means to disturb her performance. His eyes voluntarily closed as he unconsciouly started drowning on how the sound transmits its emotions. But, his moment was interrupted with the immediate pause.

“How long have you been there?” He opened his eyes, and he thought he just saw a seraph. 

Her curious eyes were piercing yet innocent, a subtle wave of melancholy dancing through her deep pupils. 

She was staring at him with her brows furrowed: a mix of curiosity and disbelief was obvious with her transparency. 

“Umm.. I just arrived.” He does not know where he got the courage to speak to her without even stammering, but he started feeling butterflies when she shrugged her shoulders and smiled out of a sudden.

He was about to smile back when he realized one thing: aside from her not looking like a foreign person, she spoke to him in his mother tongue, but of course, with a hint of a strange accent.

“Come here. There’s another chair here for you to sit.” He is not the type of person to say no to someone who doesn’t seem that dangerous, and besides, she can be his first friend in this strange land. He is sure she and him were the same race, and maybe she can teach him how to speak the foreign language, or even give him a tour around the unfamiliar city if she has time.

But, she looks like one of those chaebols who just wants to be free, and the room was her place of escape. He knows he should never judge quickly, but her appearance and his assumption are not far from being connected and possible. Maybe her parents are already looking for her as of the moment, he thought.

“The last time I checked, your ears are working properly.” She also speaks a language of a proper woman, her honorifics and the formality on her voice shout her status.

“I’m sorry.” He left his carrier by the door and made his way towards the waiting girl. She pulled another stool under the grand piano, and he comfortably sat amidst the presence of this girl he just knew.

“How did you know I was from Korea?” 

“I was waiting for you.” She bowed her head, averting her gaze towards the keys and started to place her hands on them to play another piece.

He blinked in disbelief. What was she talking about?

“I mean, I’m waiting for someone who’s from Korea also. Isn’t it nice to meet a person of the same race in an unfamiliar country?” She made a point. He also felt nicer than he thought. At least there’s a glimpse of home. “To answer your question, I just made a guess with the way you look.”

“Ah. It’s nice seeing you here too.” He sounds so shy—that unmanly type of ‘shy’, honestly. He’s sure it was a turn off for her who looks so classy.

“By the way, I think you love the 1st movement as much as I do. You were closing your eyes.” A bit of giggle from her made him smile. She is, indeed, ethereal. 

He wondered if she’s already seeing someone, but he just shrugged his thoughts aside as he knows that he needs to get through keeping up a conversation with her first before anything else.

“I’m not sure if you’re right.” Her eyebrows raised a bit, expecting an explanation as to why he looked like he was enjoying just a minute ago. He, on the other hand, noticed how her expression changed, and he naturally felt the need to make things clear. “But I think you’re not wrong either. I haven’t really heard it in 7 years, I think.” 

“Don’t you have a piano at your home?” She removed her hands from the keys and placed it on her lap as she turns to the guy she was talking to.

“We have a piano at home.” She tilted her head, asking for more details. 

He wasn’t sure if he should share his personal life to a person he just met, but isn’t it more okay to tell someone you do not know about your concerns and worries? That person has no reason to judge you nor tell you what to do at all since he or she doesn’t know even an inch of you in the first place. But still, a stranger is a stranger. You don’t exactly know how they would react or if they even care about anything you have to say.

“In case you’re in a dilemma whether you should tell me anything about you because of the reason that you don’t know me, well then, I’m Yuna.” She stretched out her hand to which he gladly accepted.

‘Yuna’

She has such a simple yet classy name. He can never deny that it matches well with how she looks and also with the glimpse of her personality.

“I’m Jungkook, and drop the honorifics, please.” He shook her hand, and that was the moment when he felt how soft it was. He does not feel any flaw with how her hand was scuplted, and he swore it was as smooth as a delicate feather. 

It felt like a hand of a newborn, but it seemed like a hand with a mother’s warmth. Maybe she hadn’t experience doing anything heavy with her hand yet except playing the piano, and somehow, he felt a shade of embarrassment with how his own looks.

She was the first one to remove her hand from his as a smile etched on her pink lips. 

“The one who plays for me is my mom, and she died 7 years ago.” She looked directly on his eyes: that type of dangerous look that make it seem like she’s searching for something through his own. 

Well, she saw nothing but honesty.

“I’m sorry about that.” She looked down. The sudden sadness on her eyes was enough for him to know how bad she feels to hear his misery.

“You don’t have to. It’s nobody’s fault.” A smile crept onto his lips as he met her warm eyes when she looked up. She looks like an innocent child who can easily say what she wants to say with just the way she would look at him, and he swore it was the first time he ever felt so amazed because of a woman who isn’t his own mother.

“Does it still hurt?” He looked at her with a questioning expression before he could get what she meant.

“Of course, it does. It was out of a sudden, actually. I wasn’t even prepared that night.” She just stared at him in silence, listening. “I wasn’t informed that she was suffering from leukemia. I thought she’s just stressing herself too much that she drastically lost weight.”

“How did you end up here, anyway?” She leaned forward, her eyes squinting lightly as if she was some kind of an investigator who’s in a great need of details during an interrogation which he honestly finds too cute. He cannot deny how his heart started to beat as if it was the 3rd movement of Moonlight Sonata with their proximity, and her cute antics weren’t helping also.

“My aunt called me and asked me if I would want to go here to stay with her. And since I know nothing about this place and I have shame and embarrassment to deal with, I gladly said no.”

“Then why are you here?” He thought her smile is the best she could offer to make his chest thump wildly, but he never heard her laugh yet. 

And when she did, he knew he’s close to a flat line.

It took him a minute or two to answer as he was trying to calm his raging self down, and he’s thankful she didn’t really notice. 

“Things happened and the next thing I knew, she already has everything ready, all the papers, my passport, and even an apartment because I told her I couldn’t afford to