it was 9 o'clock on a saturday night, like it always was.

the bar was filled with the same people, the usual crowd. there was the group of young, loud men that filled the tables near the entrance. then there was the other group of barely legal girls that crowded against a corner, talking gossip and other non important stuff. there was the old man who always sat by the darkest part of the place, quietly sipping on a can of beer. there were people on the dance floor, but there was no music. no real music anyways.

the piano on the stage was the same as always- grand, sleek black with a shining gleam to it. it called you forward, made you want to play it, made you want to create beautiful music. but not everyone could play the piano. that was what was different on that saturday.

for the first time in a long while, there was no one pressing their fingers on those keys. there was no one making declarations in the form of music. there was no one by the piano. there was no pianist. 

he was gone.

everyone could feel his lack of presence, and although people still talked, although noise still filled the air, there was no music.

there were five other men, all of different ages, sitting in the stools near the bar itself. the bartender was with them, staring at the distance. they were all quiet. not a sound was heard.

that is, until one of those men raised his glass, tipped his head back slightly, and gave a hollow laugh. the rest looked at him with confused gazes, until they noticed his eyes.

he was looking at the piano.

then, one by one, they began to raise their glasses. some hesitant, some forward.

"to our piano man." the first man declared, drinking his glass in just one gulp.

the others echoed, "to our piano man."

they all turned to look back the piano, expecting to see the same short man that always lit up the place with his unique songs, with his unorthodox words, and with his surprisingly helpful advice. 

but he wasn't there.

"i can't believe he's gone." whispered the youngest, as his glassy eyes filled with tears left unshed. his scarred hands move to cover his face slightly as he heaved a breath. his state seemed to bring other two of his companions to tears, since they began to drink more to scare their feelings away, to numb them.

one of the other men placed his hand on the shoulder of the youngest, "it's okay. we-we're going to be okay." the words were meant to be reassuring, motivational, but no one else could muster strength to say anything else. after all, what can you say when you know things are not going to be fine?

none of the other people seemed to notice the turmoil that all of these men were going through, but the atmosphere of the bar seemed to be different, heavier.

the men continued to stare at the piano unable to say anything else, to do anything else. instead, they all became lost in their memories as they remembered how their lives used to be, and how much they changed because of one single man. a single man that became the link they needed to become better. a single man that helped them find each other, and find themselves.

the piano man.

min yoongi.

 

 

.

 

 

that saturday night, the people still drank, they still talked, they still lived. but no one else mourned for the man that would never come back.

but that does not change the fact that something had happened. that does not change the fact that the music changed. whereas before, a man played the piano every single day, making the people forget about life for a while. but now, there was just the old record player that played the same music every hour; there was no more feelings, no more effort, no more piano.

there was just an old tune that lingered in the minds of the regular customers. a simple tune that always made them smile.

but no one really mourned the tune, no one wept for a man that was just as lost as that tune.

no one else wept for the music they had just lost.

 

 

.

 

 

that saturday night, the six men just remembered.

they remembered those other nights, days filled with loneliness and pure desperation. they remembered how they tried to drown their fears, their insecurities, their dreams into meaningless cups of liquor. they remembered helplessness like it was an old friend.

but, they also remembered another old friend. the lonely guy who sat by the bar, undisturbed by everyone, but aware of everything. they remember how they saw his face again and again, over and over. they remembered the first time they talked. they remembered the first time they opened themselves up to this complete stranger. they remembered the first time they heard that lonely guy play the piano.

they also remembered the last time that lonely guy played the piano, and it was beautiful as always.

perhaps that had been the biggest mistake they all made. they were all so enraptured by the melodies, the soft music, that they could not see the pain behind the pianist's eyes. they could not see his sadness. they could not see his need for someone to just notice and help him.

if someone had just notice the flame that was usually in his eyes burning away, perhaps that saturday night would have been filled with another beautiful masterpiece. if someone had just noticed, none of this would have happened.

if someone had just noticed, he wouldn't have died.

 

 

.

 

 

eventually, the six men parted ways to go back to the truth of their lives. however, before they left (knowing that they would never come together again), they all went towards the piano.

they laid their hands on the shiny surface, and although no one spoke, they all thought the same thing. the same phrase they always uttered towards the man they had all lost. just a phrase that always seemed to make them feel better, to make them feel.

sing us a song, piano man.

 

 

Notes:

do you understand now?

do you get why i warned you, you ? if you don't, everything will come in do time. but for now, i need to know- do you still want to find out the truth? do you want to know what happened with min yoongi? do you want to know what happened to everyone else? do you want to know why yoongi was their piano man?

i know that this story might not fit your standards. i acknowledge that i am not completely sure of what i am doing, i just know that i had to tell this story. i know that my writing can be improved immensely. but my mistakes are a part of the story. i want you to know that life is not simple and perfect. it is not a tale carefully weaved by an author. life is unpredictable and messy. and so is this story.

min yoongi was a man that became one with the music. but sometimes, that just makes you lonelier. sometimes, you go so deep into the music, you forget about everything else. sometimes, you just lose yourself. this is what happened to yoongi.

he lost himself.

if you decide you still want to keep going, if you decide that you want to find out the truth, if you decide to stay with me, then please

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