because the dawn right before the sun rises is the darkest

 

*

 

people always say that the world started because of a massive destruction, the epitome of chaos that suddenly became nothing and everything all at once. the birth of a star. the death of another. the creation of a universe. the destruction of a galaxy.

others have different minds, different hearts. they say that a godly force came to existence, and filled the void with a bloom of creation that sprung out of their powers. they mention gods, angels, they mention divine figures with inexplicable power and the birth of grace.

but for yoongi, his world wasn’t made until the moment where his chubby four year old fingers brushed across the dusty keys of a piano, letting it press with slight force to produce a sudden ting! and just like that, yoongi fell in love with the brown instrument that created the rawest, most beautiful, and utterly painful pieces that he could ever make.

and yet, it wasn’t until he met him, that he realized the truth about his world.

his world might have begun with his piano, but it became complete with six other boys who were just as broken as he was.

he truly began to find a sliver of hope, the beginnings of happiness, with one of those boys, who had sparkling eyes and wide smiles that made him realize just how much he was missing. that made him realize just how beautiful the sea truly was.

*


his world began with the piano, but ended with that boy.

 

*

 

when people asked about his first love, he would always stare off into space, remembering the feel beneath his fingers, the smooth caresses he made on the surface. he remembered the sounds he could produce with just those simple touches, how quiet whispers or loud screams could make his heart thump loudly against his chest, as if trying to escape and unite once and for all.

when people asked about his first love, yoongi would always remember the piano that laid in the corner of his mind. people would think he was joking, but his words would never falter.

the piano had become his first love.

 

 

*

 

(until he came along)

 

*

 

it was when he was ten that he began to focus more, to press just a bit softer, to let the music guide him.

before, he had always used the piano as a source of destress. he would let his hands fall harshly upon the white, although slightly old and stained, keys, letting out all his anger and sadness and pure misery that threatened to invade even the most invisible edges of his soul.

he would use the piano for his own twisted benefit, and it wasn’t until years later that he understood the mistakes he had done.

that was the first time he sat down, calmly lifted the cover off the keys, and let his scarred hands play pieces filled with endless desperation, unbridled passion, voiceless screams of ardor, silent sounds of weeping, and always, always just a touch of waves, as if an ocean were calling him from afar.

ever since, he always let the piano show him the way. he let the music he made show him the path towards the sky. he let the melodies and notes push him slightly closer towards the dreams that he knew were out of his grasp. he let it and he let it take him to the end of the world.

he let the piano guide him home.

 

*

 

the music wasn’t always loud. sometimes it was quiet. sometimes you had to strain your ears, open your mind, to be able to hear even just a single sound.

just a single wave.

 

*

 

he couldn’t always play.

he knew, of course he knew, that there are some people out there, prodigies they called them, that could play you melodies that you could feel coursing through your veins, melodies that would plague your mind for the rest of your time, melodies that told stories and tragedies about heroes and villains, melodies that told you everything you yearned to hear, everything you have ever wanted.

he knew this.

he despised this.

he despised those perfect people who would never get frustrated with their links to the public, with those pianos with those violins with those guitars with those drums. he utterly hated how they could just, at any time, place their hands upon those instruments and just let the world hear uniqueness laced with tones of something special.

he despised them. and even though he would never admit it, he was jealous.

the piano and him, they never always worked out. just like a first love, it was so utterly beautiful and mesmerizing for as long as it could last, but once it broke, you would never forget that pain and disaster that formed in the depths of your mind.

sometimes, he just couldn’t play. no matter how many times he placed his hands in the correct order, no matter how many times he tried again, no matter how many times he almost succeeded, somedays, he just couldn’t play.

he would slam his hands on the keys, flinching at the loud screams it let out, and he would run away.

 

*

 

the greatest betrayal he ever felt was when the piano denied his love.

everything would turn into a storm then.

 

*

 

for jungkook, art was something that no one could ever take away from him.

the paintbrushes felt like just another limb against his skin, the paint that stained his clothes was just like another barrier formed between him and the cruel world. the canvases he would destroy or complete became snapshots of his life, small portions of dreams he always desired to achieve.

for jungkook, art was the one thing he knew that would never leave him.

he knew it the moment his fingers would get smeared with colors, or the moments when his face would split into a full grin at seeing the final piece that laid in front of his eyes. flawed, heavily scattered with imperfections, but still his.

for him, jungkook would never deny the fact that painting is the one thing that made him want to begin. begin to do, to be, to make.

but it wasn’t until he met him, that he truly began.

 

*


but time is always cruel

 

*

 

he was in first grade when he first won a medal for the best drawing in his class.

he remembered running back home, giddily showing his parents his medal, and being pampered with kisses, and smothered with hugs.

he remembered smiling proudly at his piece, a slightly crumbled paper that was painfully colorful. depicting nothing more than the sun and the never ending sea.

he had hung up that painting, with the help of his mom, and everyday, he would stare upon that drawing, and gain courage to keep going. to keep drawing. to keep creating.

yet, he knew that his true desire wasn’t to win the medal, nor to receive recognition, nor to see the pride in his parents eyes, no.

his true desire was to visit that sea.

 

*

 

the sea is wild. the sea is brave. the sea is dangerous. the sea is satisfaction.

the sea is their home.

 

*

 

he would sometimes stare at his drawings, gazing intently for seconds, minutes, hours. he would just gaze and gaze, trying to see what it is he is trying to find.

as much as he tried to deny it, to scoff and sat that it is not true, he always knew the answer.

the sea was somehow always in his paintings.

perhaps in the shade of the sky, or the figures on the ground, or the shape of the waves on the landscape.

the sea, somehow, always managed to find its way upon his life.

and strangely enough, he was okay with it.

 

*

 

but he wasn’t always okay.

he realized this on the nights were his mind would be clogged up with too many pictures, too many faces, too many things that would keep his eyes open and his heart beating rapidly.

and nothing, not even carbon pencils or oils could capture the things that his mind would make. the things that not even the sea in front of him could make him forget.

 

*

 

when jungkook turned seventeen, he left his house.

and in the corners of a basement, inside a slightly broken cardboard box, was the painting of the sea that once made him believe again.

 

*

 

he might have left the painting that started everything, but he carried the image of that sea in his mind.

engraved in his mind, heart.

 

*

 

but sometimes there was thunder.


*

 

they first met at a music store. just a fleeting moment. an insignificant meeting had they both been different.

but it was anything but insignificant.



*


jungkook sat by one of the more simple pianos, a little wooden beauty that made his heart ache when he tried to play it.

he had always wanted to learn, but his parents had made him choose.

painting or piano.

his heart split for both, but as much as he wanted to learn to grace those keys with his own personal touch of music, painting had already been with him.

there wasn’t really much choice.

and now, as he sat upon this piano, his hands felt awkward as he tried to play a simple do re mi, but the anxious shaking in his fingers would not cease, and so he just kept playing the same note over and over, humming slightly under his breath to make it sound better, and to calm his nerves.

that is, until someone sat next to him, placed their hands on the piano, and showed him true music that left him breathless.

 

*


it is said that faith has no predestined path. that destiny is unreliable, and that the future is unwritten.

but for them, it was always meant to be.

even if it didn’t last.



*

 

yoongi was never the person that would approach another. unless it was an emergency, and even then he hesitated, he would never speak to a stranger.

but for some reason, seeing him sitting alone by that piano, hands desperately trying to find a tune that fits, but failing miserably, made his feet move without his permission.

before he knew it, he was closer to the boy, a young man perhaps a few years younger than him, and just watched him from behind.

his hands were shaking, yoongi could see from where he was standing. not only that, but he could also see the flecks of paint that lingered in the younger’s clothes. a litany of blues, reds, and greens that covered his jeans and white shirt, although by this point, it shouldn’t even be considered a white shirt anymore.

but what finally made him move was the soft sounds that the other was making. short, sweet, quiet hums that filled the emptiness that yoongi never knew was missing.



*


“my name is jungkook.”

“i’m yoongi.”



*


that was just the first of many more times where they would meet.

although neither actually said anything, their eyes spoke a thousand words.

again.



*


they kept meeting by the same piano, letting their hands roam the keys. laughing slightly when jungkook messed up, staring widely when yoongi played an intricate piece.

they kept meeting by the same piano. sometimes, neither would say anything, knowing that words were not enough to convey what they wanted to say.

and that is why jungkook always brought his sketchbook and some pencils, and why yoongi was always willing to press those keys again.

just so that they could talk without actually speaking.

but they didn’t need to.

not when they had the piano and drawings.



*


neither of them knew it, but that was just the beginning of something much bigger.

more beautiful.

more tragic.



*


eventually, they knew that this day would come. they had just been waiting for the day when everything would end.

they were kicked out of the store a week later.



*


they didn’t stop seeing each other.

yoongi and jungkook, like the sea and shore, always kept meeting.

they found another shop that had slightly less pianos, but they were easily attracted to a simple black one. elegant, mysterious. like the night.

they continued playing together, and sometimes, jungkook would even teach yoongi to draw so long as yoongi didn’t lose patience with him.

and he never did.

so they stayed that way.



*


they stayed that way.

for good or for worse.



*


the more days that passed, the closer they got. and the closer that they got, the more that the feelings inside their chests began to rise. fear, anxiousness, eagerness, hope.

at the new shop that they were at, they met another boy, older than both.

seokjin was his name, and he played the guitar. but what he really liked, he whispered to them as if  confessing a secret, is to take pictures.

and it was true.

seokjin always took a polaroid wherever he went. he took pictures of the simple pleasures of life, getting your name spelled correctly at a coffee shop, finding an old book at a library, seeing a beautiful flower in a barren field. he always took pictures.

and it wasn’t until one day, jungkook saw a polaroid filled with four boys, two tall and two somewhat short, that he voiced his question to seokjin.

“ah, them,” seokjin smiled as he responded, “they are my family.”

and that was how jungkook and yoongi met the others.

and that was the start of something new.



*


one step closer to the sea.



*

 

it was almost as if they had always belonged together. once all seven boys met, they all immediately knew that they had just found

what was missing.

there was namjoon, a genius whose talents laid undiscovered to everyone. and next to namjoon you would always find taehyung, a lost boy who had made many mistakes, and who began to regain his smile slowly, little by little. jimin was the smallest of them, but also the kindest, with a heart of gold, and eyes that made you happy just to see them. hoseok was always with jimin, since they had both been to the same hospital, but hoseok, he was the sun with his brilliant smile and bright personality.

and seokjin, well, he was the glue that brought everyone together. his guitar could always be heard whenever they met, slight strums of the strings that mirrored the smile he would always carry at seeing them all together.

meeting those five boys was what jungkook and yoongi needed to truly begin to move on.

to move on from the past.

and to move to their present next.



*

they all knew that things were going to change. and they did.

but somehow, they wished everything would have stayed the same.

maybe then he would have lived.

 

*

yoongi kept teaching jungkook to play the piano, just as how jungkook tried, and failed miserably, to teach yoongi how to draw.

their days together were always a relief, an escape from the world awaiting for them outside. but here, together, they did not have to worry about anything.

and yet, why is that now, when they are together, their hearts start to beat faster, and they get lost in each other’s eyes.



*

“i never want to leave you.”

“i never want you to leave me.”



*

they did end up going to sea.

all seven of them, after buying so much wasteful crap, boarded namjoon’s red pick up truck, and parted towards the place they had always wanted to see.

jungkook couldn’t fight the smile off his face, knowing that he will finally see his first painting come to life.

and yoongi. yoongi couldn’t care less for the sea, but seeing jungkook’s face lit up and covered with a beautiful grin, he couldn’t help but to softly smile to himself, and thank the sea for this mesmerizing sight.



*

the sea was beautiful. for all of them, it was a new memory to be engraved in themselves until the end of their days.

they played around, taehyung and namjoon building sand castles, while jimin and hoseok were running in the waves. jungkook and yoongi were sitting close together in the sand, watching the sun start to set in a beautiful landscape by the sea. and jin, he was taking pictures of everything he could see.

in that moment, everything was so utterly perfect, that just one wrong move could have disrupted everything.

but they stayed that way, together, until the sun would greet them once again.



*

the seven of them sat together by a bonfire, watching the flames rise gently as the ashes flew through the air.

no words were spoken that night, except for the soft lulling of seokjin’s guitar as its melody carried its way through the wind.

yoongi, although he tried fo fight it, tried to fight his feelings, tried to fight against himself, could no longer do so. he simply surrendered to jungkook and to everything he made him felt.

he wrapped his arm around the youngest, and something fluttered inside his chest when jungkook simply got closer to him.

but, he was scared. yoongi, the man who always acted cold and like nothing bothered him, was scared. and he was simply scared of a love that was meant to save him.

yet, he still let jungkook stay by his side, because if he could have nothing more, then at least he was able to have this.



*

they were all asleep. all except for jungkook.

he laid next to yoongi, feeling the coldness begin to seep through their thin blankets as the fire died down, and all that was left were the bright stars up ahead, staring down at them from infinity.

jungkook didn’t even try closing his eyes, knowing it was just a futile attempt, and instead, just stayed wide open, gazing at everything he could see with the light of the moon and stars.

he turned to his side gently, careful to not stir yoongi, and watched the other man as he breathed in softly. yoongi was naturally beautiful, jungkook was well aware of that. he knew that yoongi’s pale skin and mysterious eyes and rare smiles were a thing of beauty. but under the moonlight, he looked like a star itself.

for a moment, as he listened to the breathing of those around him, and the feel of arms around his torso, he felt nothing but peace. he was happy, and he never wanted to leave the sea.



*

they all wanted to stay in that moment, forever young.

forever by the sea.

together.



*

yoongi eventually waked up, noticing that the sky was still dark, before startled by the scared noises that jungkook was making. for a second, all he could do was watch as the younger writhed underneath the blanket, his face contorted as if in pain.

and just as fast, he began to shake the other, trying to bring him back from that land of nightmares.

he shook and shook the other, and called out his name as softly as he could as to not wake the others.  

and with a gasp, jungkook opened his startled eyes, and breathed quickly. too quickly.

“i’m here. it’s okay. i’m here, kookie.” yoongi whispered into the other as he slowly gathered the younger in his arms, holding him as he began to quietly cry, tears slipping from his eyes unnoticed.

yoongi rocked the younger gently, never letting go of him as jungkook began to slowly calm down. eventually, when jungkook was able to breathe properly, they decided to take a walk against the shoreline.



*

neither knew it, but in that moment, everything would change forever.



*


they walked together, close but not close enough, feeling the sand underneath their feet and the soft breeze of the waves. the moonlight shone on them, letting them see in the vast darkness in front of them.

“they’re nightmares,” jungkook broke the silence. and yoongi let him talk. let him get everything off his chest, and just let him become slightly closer. “i’ve been getting them for as long as i can remember. painting helps a bit, but they never go away.”

yoongi just took those words in, a part inside his mind told him, he’s just like us. and yoongi knew it. and yoongi felt just another bit closer to jungkook. yoongi abruptly said, “let me help you.”

“how?”

“like this.”

and that was the first time they kissed, under the moon, by the side of the faithful sea.



*

but why is it that at our happiest moments, we run away?

why is it that at our happiest moments, we become unhappy?

*


true to his word, yoongi did try to help jungkook.

after leaving the sea, the seven of them didn’t fall apart. but they also didn’t meet as often as they wanted.

jimin had another relapse, and so he went back into the hospital, with hoseok by his side.

namjoon began to work at a tattoo parlor, and taehyung went from every corner of the earth to the edge of the universe, everywhere at once.

seokjin, they still saw him at the music store sometimes, but something had changed. and although he never admitted it, it was clear in his eyes that he was facing something.

but he didn’t want help. he wanted to fight this alone.

and perhaps the biggest mistake they all made was to let him.



*

but jungkook and yoongi, they didn’t stop seeing each other. the opposite actually, jungkook began to make himself at home at yoongi’s apartment, finding solace in the brown piano that yoongi owned, and all the various types of music that the older made.

he always found it utterly beautiful the way yoongi’s fingers would move swiftly across the piano, as if greeting an old friend after departing. he would sit next to yoongi, and although he never saw it, he knew that a blind smile always graced his lips whenever he heard a new melody, a new tune, a new pathway to yoongi’s very own soul.

and yoongi himself was blown away by the very own existence of jungkook. there were moments where the younger simply laid on the sofa, knees crossed, and drew away all of his thoughts, all of his worries and feelings. he would bare himself against those blank pages, vulnerable, and yoongi couldn’t find the right word to describe what he felt in those moments, but he knew for certain what some of those feelings were.

he was in love.

they were in love.



*


not everything was perfect.

of course, nothing in this world is perfect. but they still tried to make it work.

nights were always the worst.

for jungkook, his nightmares never left him. he still dreamt of crawling shadows, of disgusting humanoid creatures, of sickly dead faces and harsh bitter voices. he still dreamt of all of his horrors and fears that he has dreamt since he was just a kid, combined in the epitome of everything he has always wanted to beat. but yoongi’s arms would always tightened when he woke drenched in sweat from those dreams, his heart running a never ending race, and he would forget all about those dreams, because all he could feel was yoongi yoongi yoongi. his music, his hands, his lips, just yoongi.

and for yoongi, as much as he wanted to show jungkook that he was a good person, he couldn’t hide his demons forever. there were some nights were he would crawl out of his bed, their bed, and would lean against the railing outside the window, smoking cigarettes that he knew would kill him sooner. the smoke would circle his being, clouding his thoughts, and he would always flick open a lighter, trying to find light in this darkness. but jungkook, he would always appear behind him, gently pulling those cigarettes away from his mouth, throwing them to the ground, and kiss him gently. and jungkook would always blow the flame, and made him realize that the darkness is not so bad, if he has jungkook’s hand in his.

that’s when they realized, that they could survive this.

so long as they have each other



*


it is often said that once you find the person that completes you, you cannot survive without them.



*


not everything was perfect.

fear still lingered in their chests whenever they kissed, whenever they hugged, whenever they played the piano together. fear would use its sharp claws and fight its way to the surface, standing above everything else. above their hope, above their faith, above their love.

and that fear sometimes turned into anger.

yoongi damned jungkook for making him feel this way, for making his dependent on his art pieces, and sweet smiles, and lovely hums, and crinkles around his eyes. he hated that whenever he picked up another cigarette, he would hesitate to light it, because jungkook had told him to try not to use them anymore. he hated that he liked the flickered paint that now calls itself home in his clothing, in his (their) bed, and in his heart. he hated the love he felt for jungkook.

and it wasn’t until that fight, that everything changed.



*



their first big fight. their first argument. their first true, raw anger at each other. it was just that single fight.

neither knew it, but that was the end of everything.



*


if yoongi knew then what he knows now, he never would have let go of jungkook. he never would have let go of his hand, of his paintbrushes, of his soft singing.

he never would have let go.



*


“i will always love you. never forget that.”

“i won’t. and i hope you never forget that i love you.”

“i won’t.”



*


they never actually spoke words, but their shining eyes, their caressing kisses, their gentle touches said everything they have ever wanted to say.



*



the beginning of the end.

the end of his life.

the beginning of his misery.



*


yoongi doesn’t remember how the fight started, if he was honest.

all he can remember are the punches he threw, the punches that jungkook threw back. the bitter beer on his tongue, and the metallic taste on his lips. all he can remember are jungkook’s blood on his fists, and the small shards of glasses on his body from the broken mirror.

all he can remember is the feeling of jungkook’s arms around him, hugging him, telling his everything was okay.

and him throwing it all away.

all he can remember is walking away from their home, walking away from their piano, walking away from jungkook.

walking away from everything he has ever loved.



*



the last thing he ever heard from jungkook was just a pained whimper. a soft, pleading word that he heard as he walked away.

just a single word.

“hyung.” 



*


yoongi was never meant to be happy. he knew that when he broke his piano with his angry fists, he knew that when his parents left him, he knew that when he walked away from the moments he was truly happy.

he always knew he didn’t deserve happiness.



*


jungkook was dead.

his phone fell from his sweaty hands, the nurse on the phone still speaking words he no longer cared about.

jungkook was dead.

it was a car accident, they had said. his body showed signs of previous abuse, but what killed him was the impact against the car. his heart just stopped beating, just as easily as yoongi stopped playing the piano.

jungkook was dead.

his knees ached from kneeling on the floor, but he could not feel. his hands were bloody from where he racked his nails across the floor. his breath came in short gasps, he could not breathe.

jungkook had been his air. jungkook had been his happiness. jungkook had been his piano.

but jungkook was dead.

and yoongi could not find any other reason to live.



*


the fire always burned so brightly. he had burned so brightly. but jungkook would always blow away the flame.

just like his life ended, in an instant.




*


the sun still rose the next day.



*



when the others found out, yoongi wasn’t there.

seokjin was the one who delivered the news, since he was the one who had also been called by the hospital.

when he found out, the flowers in his hand fell.

petal by petal.



*


yoongi only played the piano one last time.

a goodbye melody.



*


a ‘see you soon’ song.



*



when yoongi returned to their apartment again, tears clouded his vision.

he moved around in a hurry, collecting all of the paintings that littered in the rooms, all the paintbrushes and colors that laid scattered. he didn’t pay attention to the broken mirror, or to the droplets of blood that stained the wooden floor. he just moved quickly, gathering all of jungkook’s creations.

he gently placed them all inside a box, and those that didn’t fit he put them on a bag. and carefully, he took them in his arms, and walked into the direction of the music shop.



*



everything was the same on the inside. the same old photographs hanged on the walls, the same instruments waiting to be used.

he walked towards the front cashiers, and told a worker who seemed nice enough to hold on to the paintings. he ignored her confused gaze, and told her.

“give them to jin. he always plays a guitar.”

before she could respond, he walked away from her. and went one last time towards the back of the shop, where the black piano laid still, lonely.

he took slow steps, and once he was in front of it, he could almost imagine jungkook sitting in front of it again, nervously playing the same note over and over.

he didn’t sit down. it didnt seem right to sit without jungkook, so he didn’t. he just stood there, gazing fondly at the white keys. he let his finger fall heavily onto one single key. the same one jungkook had played, so long ago.

mi



*


knowing that everything jungkook had made was safe, he walked towards their home again.

he took the lighter our of his pocket, flicking it on and off. letting it burn. letting it fade.

with a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes.

without any thought, he grabbed the bottle of gasoline that he had stashed next to the couch, his eyes getting caught on the various spots filled with small drops of paint.

soon, he thought.



*


everything that burns so bright, is always gone so soon.



*


he walked towards their room, carrying the gasoline along. he twisted the cap, and began to pour it all around him. the bitter smell entered his nose, but not even a grimaced could be formed on his face. after all, he was never going to be sad anymore after this.

he was going to be with jungkook.


*


he flicked the lighter on, and for the first time in his life, he let it fall.


*


everything had fallen too fast.

they had fallen in love too fast. they had fallen into the end too fast.

everything was gone too fast.



*

 

having the flames so near him made yoongi almost melancholic. the fire was so beautiful, but as his skin begin to burn, as smoke filled his lungs more than the cigarettes ever would, all thoughts left his mind.

all except one.

the memory of a boy who was art himself, with a beautiful smile, bright eyes, and the sweetest laugh he ever got to hear.

the flames engulfed his entire being, until all that remained were ashes, and the faded tune of an old piano still ringing in his ears.



*


jungkook.

that was his last thought.

 

*


the last piece jungkook had made was a simple one.

soft waves against a cloudy sky. clear sand underneath the sun. the same day when they visited the sea.

only this time, the puzzle was complete

for seven other figures stood in front of the sea, side by side.



*


when jungkook died, yoongi’s heart stopped.

like the last beat of a masterpiece.



*


yoongi nor jungkook where with them when they visited the sea again.

it had been a sunny sunday morning, with a slight breeze and the singing of birds. it was just the five of them.

five.



*


the waves still crashed. the sun still shone. the boys still lived.

 

*


when they visited the sea again, they didn’t play anymore. taehyung didn’t build castles, nor did jin play his guitar.

but they did take one last picture.

a lone photograph of the sea.

 

*


if one took a closer look, you could see the wings of birds flying through the photo, far away in the distance.

flying towards the sky.



*


none of them kept the picture. instead, they placed it inside a charred, once brown, piano.

a piano that had once belonged to two boys who were gone too soon.

but who were at least together.

 

*

 

when people used to ask yoongi who his love was, he would smile, and say the piano.

but after jungkook, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

 

*


drawing always used to be his escape, jungkook knew.

but he also knew that those paintings weren’t his only salvation, for yoongi existed.



*


they saved each other

and made each other fall.



*


their world might have begun with a single note and a shy smile, but it ended with them.

 

*


“don’t let of my hand forever.”

“i won’t let go of you either.”



*


their world might have begun with the sea, but it ended with them.

 

*

 

“you made me begin-“

“you saved me.”

 

*

 

their world might have begun with a touch of hands and a glance at the eyes, but it ended with them.

 

*

 

“thank you.”

“for what?”

“for not leaving me.”



*


their world might have begun with the piano and art, but it ended with them.



*


the sea still lived underneath the moonlight, carrying the memory of seven boys who once found a piece of themselves in each other.



*


and two of those boys found a home in lonely pianos, flawed paintings, and the never ending sound of the beautiful sea.