The lilt of the noise floating from the inside of the room is not lost on you. In fact, you take the time necessary to enjoy how it sounds, how the following piano keys add to its enjoyment factor. It clicked wonderfully, entranced you to where your eyes shut at peace for probably the first time since your arrival. Nothing else in your surroundings mattered, back slumping into the wall behind as you breathed in deep.

And then, there chimed a cacophony of piano keys pressed altogether in disarray. It disrupted your thoughts, dissatisfaction filling your veins.

A song with no end.

Blinking in confusion, your head peeked into the room to find Yoongi's head bowed in his hands. He sat in front of the piano, the visible distress on his features causing you to move from where you stood in the doorway.

The hostility continued to persist since you moved into a shared room together. Sometimes he'd make a snarky comment or roll his eyes if one of the others complimented how your work was going, but mostly, he ignored your existence. You didn't know which set of behaviors you preferred as they all stung in different ways. Normally, if someone made it clear they didn't favor your presence, you didn't bother to be around them. Except, now, you did not have such an option as your position in the band exposed you to closeness to several men. It made sense to get along with each of them.

Why he insisted on making that extremely difficult was unknown, but you didn't plan to back away. Probably much to Yoongi's dismay.

Knocking on the side of the wall to capture his attention, Yoongi raised his head to look at you. The irritation building in his expression evidently rose, eyes on you as you stepped closer. Jumping into a lion's den was most likely the safer option at this point, but you didn't show signs of retreat in how your arms crossed against your chest to guard yourself.

"What do you want?" Can't you see I'm busy almost lifting off of his tongue. As blunt as his words were, the shadow of what he really wanted to say remained and lingered. He was clearly holding back. Usually he was heavy-footed on the accelerator when it came to hurting your feelings, so this didn't make any sense.

"I was listening from the hall. The song sounds great, but it's missing something," you explained.

Something flashed in his eyes. You read it as him trying to find the correct vocalization to tell you to get out, that he didn't need any of your input. In comparison, he'd been doing this a lot longer than you. He wrote lyrics and notes and produced art, but what had you done besides enter the fray and become the bane of his existence?

You attended practices, went over the new line of music, and had been recording, but it wasn't the same. Yoongi was trying to create while you were reading off whatever script was handed to you that day. To be fair, the same kind of creative freedom couldn't be granted when you were a new addition, incredibly green in trying to prove you could keep up with the pace set.

Crafting your own pace for others to follow would be a privilege to earn later on. Yoongi's expression of incredulous chagrin towards your critique was justified. The rookie shouldn't have been hopping out of their designated area unless it was asked.

However, something else glazed over his features. They fell into deep thought, and then, you could've swore you saw the consideration. Reluctance rested right alongside, questioning why he even entertained you and what you had to say.

"What is it missing? You know, besides words."

He was cautious, but curiosity was getting the better of him here. If he sent you away, then it would bother him pondering what he may have done wrong for you to be brave enough to give him feedback. Especially after how he'd been treating you on a daily basis.

You detected how the odds were in your favor, so you couldn't help but smile in your triumph and approach to narrow the distance between you and the piano.

"I can show you."

"You're not touching my piano," he grunted out. Visible regret washed out the former deliberation, so you acted fast.

"I just want to help. Please? I promise I won't mess around."

Without realizing it, your arms unfolded from where they were held to your chest, instead falling to your sides. Your shield utilizing body language dropped to display your newfound vulnerability, anything to not be turned away from where the two of you were.

He noticed, a quick glimpse down to your hands indicating he caught your openness. Yoongi made the effort to shut you down the first night you wanted to help, so you hadn't pried since, but there was another aspect lurking in his pupils. It ate away at him, the walls he placed up shaking by the threat of possibly taking them down momentarily for you to provide succor.

It was desperation.

"Fine," he spat out, don't waste my time dead in the atmosphere. He didn't have to say it, you just knew.

Regardless, you double-timed in going over. At most, for this room, you had passed by it and looked in a few times. Namjoon was in it the other day, Hoseok the next, but you found Yoongi had been spending an ample amount of time in there with his laptop. You wondered if that had to do with how you spent your free time in your shared room.

Being away from someone he disliked so much most likely helped him with his inspiration. That didn't explain why he had been seemingly distant from the others, but you still felt it as a personal attack. Seokjin mentioned he had been different for a while, but you didn't have any other version to compare. This had been Yoongi to you since you joined and so that's all you knew.

Sitting with him on the piano bench, you failed to observe how there was no room left for a physical gap. Your thigh touched his as you leaned forward to take a look at the music sheet in front of you. You were ready to begin playing straight away, turning to him with a fierce grin plastered on your lips.

He looked like he wanted to scoot away, unconsciously angling himself in the opposite direction of you. The radiation of your combining heat dawned on you right then and there, so you gulped down an overwhelming timorous feeling cascading over your shoulders and focused on playing.

"Let's see," you murmured, picking up where he left off when you first started listening. It wasn't as smooth as his was, but this was the first time you were reading this music sheet. You could replicate his style if you had practiced it a few times.

"I really like how this sounds," you said.

You saw Yoongi's eyes on you through your peripheral vision. It's not where your attention should have been, the wrong keys pressed for a second with the revelation. He made you nervous.

"But then you trail off," you were reaching the end of the unfinished music sheet, your eyelids coming to a close. You sensed his building confusion as he waited, tapping the keys with the input he was anticipating.

"There's no completion, no finale, no satisfaction," you said as you added a new part to the song. It shifted from the gloom of his to the rising light of yours. It offered what you said it lacked, soothing your trained ear in how he almost left it hanging from before.

When you finished, you gently raised your fingertips from the piano keys to allow the excess sound to fade from the room and dissipate in harmony. Your eyes came open as you inhaled deeply, turning to Yoongi whose jaw was slightly slackened. His generally bored expression was nowhere to be found, something else replacing it despite his facial features bordering neutral.

Insight… Inventiveness… Intrigue.

"Not bad," he finally uttered, reaching for the music sheets in front of the two of you. Yoongi retrieved the pen hanging from his shirt's collar, clicking it to write down the notes you just played for him. You felt accomplished, this was the first time he complimented you.

Well, it wasn't really a compliment, but it was his form of it. You didn't get anything this close before. But you couldn't help but feel that there was something else he was going to say.

"But," ah there it was, "this song is supposed to be about two people kept apart. There's no satisfaction in lines that run parallel, lines that can never touch."

He clicked his pen again, placing it back in its spot where it previously was on his collar.

"So why did you write that down?"

"Like I said, it wasn't bad. I'm not going to shut every idea down, especially not if it's good."

Your smile widened at his words, but you could see why this was such a difficult process for him to conclude. The melody was supposed to mirror lyrics that hadn't been written down. He knew the story was supposed to be sad, but that was his only direction.

"Why don't we roleplay?" The idea popped into your head so suddenly that you couldn't contain it. You tried to turn towards him as much as you could, the bewilderment on his face having your body buzz with sheepishness.

"The hell are you talking about?"

"Come on, you've put together a song that sounds beautiful, but the words are not there to tell you it's tragic. The setting you've created is beckoning, but the people the song is about should be giving the audience their warning," you attempted to clarify where you were going with this, but Yoongi still looked unconvinced.

"The melody feels like how they feel together, but the lyrics should describe how they feel apart. You've set the tone, the environment, whatever planet this all takes place on, but you're missing an important key element."

"And what's that?" He said, dubious in his tone. He was losing his patience.

"You're not listening to the two people. Hence," you paused for a second to try and find another way to explain your thought process. You could see where the confusion was coming from.

But he finished the sentence for you, "Hence the roleplaying. You want us to become the two people so we could write their feelings into lyrics."

"Exactly," you said, searching his face for anything to tell you that this was stupid to say out loud.

Impressively (and annoyingly of course) he remained stoic. He reached up to stroke his chin as he thought, his eyebrows furrowing. You wished you could see through his skull to view into his brain. You put yourself in a position for him to laugh at you or call you ridiculous.

He did neither of those things, but his silence was deafening. You would've preferred a negative reaction since this quiet was perpetuating your surge of anxiety. Oftentimes, people always made the nerves worse than the actual outcome. Your worries were piling up on top of each other, positive he would tell you to go away and that he had it from here on out.

"Demonstrate," he requested, gesturing back to the piano in front of the two of you. It's not what you expected at all, Yoongi surprising you again.

You liked this much better since it beat the times where he was avoiding you or being snarky. You felt a lot more secure and confident. Though, you must've been staring at him too long because he said, "Hurry up, I haven't had lunch."

Nodding your head, your digits returned to the keys of the piano. You started off like you did before, eyes reading the music notes as you tried to think of what the person must be thinking if they couldn't see their lover/friend/what-have-be. It was easier said than done, the pressure raising your shoulders stiff and tense.

"Fingertips away is the same as lightyears apart," you began, the curve in your voice bordering that of singing and talking. You wanted to sound at least pleasant in your delivery.

"If only we had the time we had right at the start, endless and fulfilling" you continued. A shakiness came, unsure if that was the correct route to go. Rhyming and rhythm were prominent in your mind, trying to make sense of it all as you said it.

"You looked at me and promised the whole wide world, I looked at you and my sanity unfurled."

You came to a halt when you tried to think about where to go next with it. You pictured two people, one torn away from the other and therefore they were reminiscing of what they had and couldn't. Except, you felt awkward in trying to convey feelings for something you hadn't gone through yourself. You empathized at most and said what you believed would be about the same.

It was difficult separating yourself from this other character, from this other person existing in the confines of this song. Especially being hyper-aware of your surroundings.

You were in a room with a piano and a few other instruments, the lit screen of the laptop nearby among it. The doorway could welcome anyone at any time to enter and give an opinion, a form of judgement on your singing and songwriting. You weren't gasping and crying as someone's arms wound around your waist and pulled you away from the reaching hand of your associate.

You were high strung and stressed by the prospect of trying to impress a bandmate who didn't seem to care that you were around. That's what the stakes were and they couldn't be forgotten because of another vital component in being there in the room.

Yoongi was sitting beside you, watching your fingers as you played and tilting his head as he listened to your half-assed singing. When you stopped, he didn't move or push your hands aside. He just waited for whatever your next "brilliant" move would be.

"It wasn't supposed to be this way," Yoongi breathed. He spoke slowly, testing the waters for something you didn't know. You looked at him, disheartened by his words.

You knew you messed it up.

"I'm sorr—"

"Now you must be brave. We'll be together someday," he said. Before you realized that he had continued for you, his hands were back on the piano and he played without looking up at the music sheet. He had that down, memorized after months of working on it.

You wondered what he was seeing in his own head after what you had let out. The crazy thing about thinking and free will was that it wasn't guaranteed two thoughts would be the same even with some context gathered.

"The tears are not for the deep cuts," he went on, playing the same section over and over again. You saw it as him trying to see what could come next. He ran low on his goal just as you had. But hearing him sparked guidance in you.

"The tears are for us." You responded, your fingers joining his to play with him. He played the low notes and you played the high, still reading off the sheet as his attention turned to you.

"They're cruel for this," you went on, pausing for him to go on and bounce off of you just like the two of you had been doing. It was starting to make more and more sense by practicing in this way. Things simply clicked.

"But our memories are bliss," he said without missing a beat. His eyes looked from you back to the music sheet to read the new addition. You had the same idea, playing your part from earlier as your eyes came closed once more.

"And that will be all we need for the pain," he said to which you met with, "Until we are able to meet again."

His hand came over yours on the piano keys when you both found the end. You knew it from your improvisation, so your hand was faster in finding the right spot. His was delayed from where he read what he wrote, but he didn't pull back.

When your eyes came open, they found his looking at you. He blinked softly, the heat of his hand somehow not sending you reeling backwards.

You… almost liked it. It was settling and the opposite of the cold front he constantly put up in front of you. In all honesty, you expected his digits to feel like ice. You weren't sure how to feel about it, if you should yank your hand into your lap and keep him from being accusatory.

But there was a hypnotic sense to how his pupils were dilated, to how his fingers twitched as if he barely noticed where they were sitting on top of. Gradually, he retracted his hand and dropped his head to stare at his thighs. You could see he was having trouble not looking at your thigh that was still touching his, the connection almost burning a whole in your pants.

"Thank you, I've made new progress," he murmured. You could tell that there was more he had to say with how he was fidgeting where he sat.

"But I still haven't had lunch… so…"

Oh… right.

"Yeah, okay. I'll see you later, then. I'd be happy to help some more if you'd like."

There wasn't disagreement with your statement as much as the absence of agreement was ringing in your ears. You saw this as a small victory, however, unable to stop yourself from grinning as he stood up and collected his laptop from where it was previously sitting.

You didn't know what would come next, but this was the first step in the right direction.