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There is a kind of music that physically washes over you, the kind where you can feel the notes falling against your skin, the kind that lulls you in till you're floating along the surface of a sea made entirely of the song and only the song. The kind that rocks you till you're swimming in midnight, just midnight, moonshine trickling down your spine.
Jimin closes his eyes and hums along to the music in his earbuds, the subway swaying this way and that but to him, it is the ebb and flow of waves, of andantes and allegros, staccatos hitching in his breath as he counts the stops, one, two, three more--he gets up and blinks against the harsh light of the subway station.
He's three hours early to the concert, but that's okay, Carnegie Hall has always been one of this favorite places, the quiet hugeness of hall pressing in, and here, he can lay down across the plush seats, pretend that he's hearing the piano echo all around him, encasing him in their soft comfort, their liquid solidity. He greets the doorman with a smile--they're old friends, from high school, when Jimin still believed that he could change the world with nothing but his voice. He still does sometimes, now, when he's drunk enough to sing out loud.
In three hours, Jeon Jungkook will be performing on that stage, the Jeon Jungkook, one of the youngest, most talented pianists of the decade. He got famous after one of his videos went viral on YouTube, and since then, he's been garnering the attention of critics everywhere for his insanely young age and prodigious playing skills. In three hours, Jimin will see Jeon Jungkook for the first time. He's seen him, sure, in far-off videos across a backlit screen, mostly of when Jungkook was still young enough to need lifts to reach the pedals. Since then, his name has been over ad campaigns everywhere--movie credits and commercial reels, but never his face. In a radio interview with NPR, he said that he'd like to keep it about his music, to which the interviewer had commented that yes, because Jungkook's looks would most definitely be a hot talking point, that jawline--and Jungkook had cut her off with a light laugh and a mention of his latest compilation release of well-loved classics. Everything from Moonlight Sonata to Fantasie Impromptu to Suite Burgamasque.
Jimin had preordered the CD the second it came out on his official website and scored one of the signed copies, Jungkook's signature in silver sharpie along with the words listen with care--delicate notes ahead and a winky face that seemed somewhat out of place with the classical titles. Jimin had to resist the urge to get it framed anyway.
Something brushes against Jimin's foot and he starts, jolting up with a rather unceremonious huh?
There's a boy, not much older than Jimin by the looks of it, staring at him from the end of the row of seats, an eyebrow raised.
"If you're here for the concert, it's not for another like... three hours," the boy says, in a somewhat sarcastic drawl.
Jimin frowns, a blush working up his cheeks, "I know that--I just wanted to... get a good seat."
"Three hours early?" the boy is clearly stuck between unwillingly impressed and utter disbelief.
"I'm a big fan," Jimin says and he sounds more indignant than he intended, his cheeks flushing ever darker. The boy stares at him for a second, eyes sharp and searching, before a helpless grin spreads across his lips and he heaves a sigh.
"Fine, fine, I'll let you stay," and he leans up against the back of the row of chairs in front of Jimin, tilting his head.
Jimin tucks his headphones away, twiddling with his fingers, "So... do you work the stage or something?"
There's an amused glint in the boy's eyes as he nods, "Something like that," and he turns to give the huge white grand on the stage a wistful look. Jimin looks between him and the piano.
"Do you play?"
The boy shrugs, "A bit," and then he turns back round to fix Jimin with a look, "do you?"
Jimin shakes his head with a laugh, "I wish... I can sing a bit, but I have no hand-eye coordination." He wiggles his fingers in front of the boy's face. The boy tilts his head again, glancing back up at the piano sitting on stage. He turns back with a huge grin.
"I could teach you a bit if you'd like, it's not very hard."
Jimin blanches. "No, no, no, no... I can't--we can't--we'll get caught."
The boy rolls his eyes and gets up, reaching out to tug Jimin up from his seat and down the plush aisles lined in velvet. "We'll be fine."
"Oh my god, we can't--" Jimin sputters as he glances around furiously, giving his arm a futile little tug as the boy (now that they're both standing up, Jimin realizes how damn tall the boy is compared to him, a good head over him even as they make their way down the inclined aisle) leads him down towards the stage, across the half-moon shaped pit up front, down the stairs and back up again till they're toeing the stage, standing right outside the ring of light in the middle of which sits the great white grand piano, gold lettering marking the edges. It sings to the silence as they stand there and Jimin feels his heart skip.
It's beautiful.
"C'mon," the boy says, whispers, hand still tight around Jimin's wrist. He gives it a tug and they're across the line, through the threshold into the spotlight and the piano sits there, waiting, singing. Jimin glance at the boy, then the piano, eyes honing in on the black and white keys, polished to a shine, glittering like eyes or a smile. Jimin trails behind the boy as they take their seats at the piano bench, the boy situating himself more towards the center, Jimin perched there with his back straight, breath coming in short.
"Relax," the boy says, rolling his eyes, placing his fingers across the keys, falling so naturally Jimin's almost mesmerized by the movement. "It's just a piano."
"Just a piano," Jimin echoes, incredulous as he stares the boy down, "only the most beautiful piano I've ever laid eyes on."
"It's Jungkook's," the boy says, matter-of-factly, "his favorite--he has it carted around to wherever he's performing."
"Yeah, I heard about that too," Jimin says, suddenly enthusiastic, shoulders curling in as he twists his hands in his lap, "to think that Jungkook has touched this piano..." the heat under his skin prickles as he eyes the keys with a growing apprehension. The boy next to him stares, then, he laughs.
"You really like him that much?"
"He makes the music come to life," Jimin says, eyes trained on the keys, ears going red, "it's like he's telling a story when he plays, a story that everyone can understand, no matter what language they all speak, and I think that's kind of amazing."
He's breathless by the time he finishes, the heat peaking and passing as the boy next to him just stares, fingers still poised over the keys.
Finally, he says, "What's your favorite song?"
Jimin blinks, "Of Jungkook's?"
The boy shrugs, "Any."
Jimin smiles wide, "Clair de Lune. The whole Suite is nice, but I dunno... I know it's stereotypical, but--" the boy cuts him off with the opening notes to the song, Clair de Lune and Jimin goes quiet, words faltering on the tip of his tongue as the watches the boy play, fingers moving so effortlessly they seem to be dancing, skimming, waltzing over the keys. His right hand works up through the scales and his left hand breathes over the right to settle on just the right keys at just the right times. Jimin almost moves back, stands up, but the boy grins and shakes his head.
"Stay."
So Jimin stays, a tingling, fuzzy feeling curling up from the base of his stomach, up his spine in tantalizing spirals, fizzing up and out at the base of his neck as he watches the boy play, the world melting into soft pedals and strings of F's and E and D flats. It pools around him, around them, swirling till Jimin's sure there's nothing else beyond their ring of light and piano music. He sways, breath low as he hums along, almost closing his eyes, a smile stretching over his lips, unbidden and helpless.
When the song finishes, Jimin opens his eyes and claps, giddy beyond belief.
"Wow! You're so good! Where did you learn how to play? You should be signed or something!"
The boy laughs, running his fingers over the keys, "Started early."
"I can tell," Jimin says, clearly impressed, and the boy giggles, tapping the keys.
"Now you try," he says, and Jimin's smile slides of his face quick as jam.
"What? No, no, I can't--not after you just--"
But the boy will have none of it, taking Jimin's hands by the palms and settling them over the keys, adjusting their positions till he's satisfied, pressing his index finger down over Jimin's to hit the D key.
Jimin almost pulls his hands back but the boy is talking, saying something about how to press down with just the right amount of pressure, where on the pad of the finger should touch the key, and how your palm should be rounded at all times, like you're holding an egg there, and trying not to let it fall.
Jimin nods, frowning in concentration, intent on repeating the C-major scale to the best of his ability. Sometime between one key and the next, the boy had gotten off the seat to stand behind Jimin, curling over Jimin's back so that both his hands are resting on top of Jimin's guiding him, voice by Jimin's ear with soft affirmations.
"Yep... that's good! Just like that," the boy grins and Jimin feels it more than he hears it, the words warm as they breathe by his cheek.
When Jimin makes it up the scale and down with both hands and no mistakes, he whoops. The boy whoops with him.
"I did it!"
"You did it!" the boy gives Jimin's shoulders a squeeze and when Jimin turns to look at him, the boy's grinning at him like he's just accomplished the most fantastical feat in the world. A door clicks open by the side of the stage and a woman peaks out.
"You're not allowed to be on stage--oh--sorry, I didn't know it was--"
The boy cuts her off with a quick flap of the hands, "Okay, okay, I'm coming." The woman nods and disappears back into the backstage room, the door melting into the darkness that sits audience just outside the ring of light. Their ring of light.
Jimin sighs and grins at the boy, the boy grins back.
"I guess you have to go," Jimin says, pressing his palms to his thighs, willing the twinge of sadness away. The boy nods and chews on his lips.
"Will you... stick around after the show? We might be able to hang out... or something."
Jimin perks up, "Sure! Erm... where should we meet?"
The boy glances around, "Y'know what? I'll text you, gimme your number," he says, pulling out his phone and handing it to Jimin. Jimin punches in his number and smiles as he hands the phone back to the boy.
"I don't even know your name yet," he says.
The boy just smiles as the woman's head appears in the doorway again, opening her mouth to say something.
"I'll see you after the show!" the boy calls over his shoulder as he turns and jogs off stage, disappearing with the woman into the thin strip of light that disappears with the two of them, leaving Jimin quite alone in the middle of this ring of light, just him and the grand piano. He turns back to it and lays his fingers across her keys.
They tingle with the warmth of her music and Jimin smiles.
"Does he treat you well? He must love you a lot to take you with him wherever he goes," and Jimin sighs, running a finger along one of the black keys, pressing down gently, D-flat ringing out against the empty hall, the walls and ceilings made to sing along with the song, whatever song that might be.
Jimin soaks in the remnants of the note for a second longer before he pulls himself up out of the chair and down the stairs, leaving the piano in her solitude.
He chooses a seat in the front row, just a bit off center, and amuses himself with the twitter mentions as people being filing into the hall, dressed to the nines, all polished shoes and floor length dresses. Jimin himself is in his best crisp shirt and navy slacks, though his sleeves had been rolled up, the top button of the shirt popped for the heat. He straightens as the hall fills, minute by minute, the lulling conversations sweeping over him like water, voice bubble and gurgle and mix till its one singular entity, ebbing and flowing much like the music does.
He settles into his seat as the lights dim and the entire hall hones in on the piano sitting center-stage.
Jeon Jungkook walks on stage to a tumult of applause and several girls two rows behind Jimin can't keep from squealing when they see him.
Jimin's jaw drops. It's the boy, the one who had just pulled him on stage, helped him learn the C-scale, played Clair de Lune for him and asked for his number. That was Jeon Jungkook.
This, is Jeon Jungkook.
He is dark hair, styled now, and even darker eyes, though Jimin knows just how bright they can get. He is a bow-tie and a tailcoat so crisp it looks Photoshopped as Jungkook walks to the middle of the stage and smiles out at the crowd, taking a shallow bow.
He settles at the piano, the swallow-tail behind him hanging from the back of the bench. Jimin sinks into the cushions as Jungkook settles his fingers over the keys, the movement now familiar--he'd seen it up close less than two hours ago, and then, he begins to play.
It’s different sitting so far away, sitting with the rest of the crowd, outside their ring of light, but it's beautiful nonetheless, enchanting.
Jungkook works through the program with practiced ease and a graceful dexterity that can only come with years and years of grueling practice. Jimin breathes out and lets the music take him as it always does, but this time, he has a face to put to the song, a voice to match to the melody. He almost hums along, sings out loud, but he doesn't. He swallows it back down and sways, fingers pressing into his thighs in tandem to the notes pouring from the stage down across the audience, washing over everyone.
Clair de Lune is last, even after the Passepied.
Before he starts, Jungkook stands up and makes his way to the front of the stage, peering down at all of them with a smile.
"I'd like to dedicate this song to a new friend I made today," he says, grinning as he catches Jimin's eye and Jimin slips down in his seat, heat bubbling in his stomach as Jungkook continues to look straight at him, "who has a laugh that sounds like moonlight."
The crowd murmurs in a collective, sweeping whisper, and several people in the front row turn to look at Jimin but Jungkook is already settling himself at the piano bench and the of opening bars of the song draws everyone's attention back in.
When he finishes, it's to a hurricane of applause and bravo's. Jimin stands along with the rest of the hall and claps as hard as he can while Jungkook takes his bows, runs off stage, and then back on again for another set of bows, a renewed torrent of applause.
After the third time, the lights come back on, dim as they are, and people being to file out of the hall, chattering amongst themselves, marveling at the show, talking techniques and emotion and what have you. Jimin stays in his seat, feeling all too warm to move right away, mind still trying to process the magnanimousness of the situation at hand. Then, his phone buzzes inside his pocket and he jumps.
Meet me by the right-hand stage door?
Jimin glances towards the right-hand side of the stage, and sure enough, there he is, in all his tail-coated glory, looking for all the world as if he hadn't just closed a solo concert in Carnegie Hall.
"You're Jeon Jungkook," Jimin says, half exasperated, half completely stars truck.
Jungkook shrugs, "Seems like it, huh."
Jimin sputters for a full half minute before Jungkook laughs and extends his hand for Jimin to take. Jimin eyes it for a second before taking it with shaking fingers. Jungkook gives his hand a squeeze, pulling him backstage. They don't exchange words, just silence, and Jimin finds himself smiling despite everything because even if this is a dream, it's one that's too good to wake up from, so he might as well live it out as long as it lasts.
"Sorry for not telling you earlier," Jungkook says, pulling the pair of them into his changing room and shooting Jimin an apologetic smile, "just... didn't want you to freak out if you knew, y’know?"
Jimin nods, watching Jungkook fiddle with this cuffs before pulling the tailcoat off and popping the buttons of his white collar shirt.
"It's... okay. You're probably right, I would have freaked," Jimin says, a bit sheepish as Jungkook turns his back to Jimin and shrugs his shirt off, pulling on the t-shirt he was wearing before the concert, kicking off his over-shined shoes and shucking his slacks for a pair of jeans and timbs. The entire process had taken less than ten minutes and when Jungkook turns back around, Jimin is once again faced by the boy who he'd met just hours ago, the boy who had sat with him under the spotlight and taught him the C-scale.
"Good thing you didn't hm?"
Jimin nods, unsure of what to say.
Jungkook rolls his eyes, "Oh, don't clam up on me now. It's been ages since I've had a friend to chill with. Do you know how boring it is playing Super Smash on your own? Or Fifa? C'mon there's a game room back here and I brought all my stuff."
The change in Jungkook's demeanor is a bit whip-lashy, but Jimin goes with it just the same, allowing himself to be dragged down a series of winding hallways he'd never be able to navigate on his own, into a large room with a flat screen mounted to the wall, and came controllers strewn across the ground next to a pile of overstuffed pillows.
"Grab one--which one do you wanna play?" Jungkook asks, flipping through a thick stack of disks. Jimin watches him with a muted fascination. He'd never thought about how Jungkook would be without his prodigy pianist title--just a normal teenage boy who wants to play videogames.
Jimin settles on Super Smash and much much later than he'd intended to leave the concert, he's bidding Jungkook goodbye and goodnight at the entrance of the hall, the yellow streetlights washing out the colors of their faces, but doing nothing to dull the bright of Jungkook's eyes as he looks at Jimin with a sad little smile.
"Promise we'll hang out again?"
Jimin laughs and nods, "I'll come to every single show you have in New York."
Jungkook brightens, "You should come on tour with me, that way we can hang all the time."
Jimin blinks, unsure if Jungkook actually means what he says or even knows what he's just offered.
"I'm dead serious," Jungkook says, rocking on the balls of his feet as he searches Jimin for a reaction. Jimin takes in a deep breath and lets it out, taking a step back with a soft smile.
"Maybe next time," he says.
Jungkook grins despite himself, "Yeah... so I'll see you at my next show?" He grins and Jimin thinks he's never seen anything more beautiful or lonely in the whole, wide world.
Jimin nods, "Yeah, see you then," and he turns around and walks towards the subway station, reaching for his headphones, plugging them in without hitting play, letting the silence drown out the sounds of his heart. He pretends he doesn't hear Jungkook calling his name.
It would be 13 years before they see each other again.
Jimin sits down with Namjoon by his side, their hands interlaced as they wait for the lights to dim, the grand piano sitting at the center of the stage, beautiful and lonely. Namjoon gives Jimin's hand a squeeze and Jimin squeezes back, their engagement rings cool and hard against their skins.
Jeon Jungkook walks out on stage, looking just as he had back then, tall and perfect, his tailcoat swishing in the air behind him. He takes his usual bow, sweeping the crowd with dark eyes, skimming right over where Jimin and Namjoon are, before he retreats into the center of the spotlight and settles at the piano bench.
The concept is longer this time, Jungkook working through a series of complicated pieces, an intermission splices the concert into two parts, and when the second part finally crests and breaks and winds back down, Jungkook stands, reaching for the proffered microphone. He clears his throat.
"And this last song, I'd like to dedicate to an old friend of mine... who has a laugh like moonlight," then, his eyes flicker down towards his feet and for the first time since the beginning of his career, Jeon Jungkook looks nervous as he mumbles into the microphone, "I shouldn't have let you go," before he hands the mic back and sits back down, fingers flickering over the keys to a single pause.
The familiar bars of Clair de Lune startup and Jimin has to consciously tell himself not to squeeze Namjoon's hand too hard. He doesn't realize there are tears staining his cheeks when he stands up to clap, dropping Namjoon's hand, only that there's something squeezing the blood from his heart, forcing it out till it's thundering behind his ears as he claps and claps and claps, crying all the while.
Jungkook bows once, twice, three times, before he disappears backstage and the lights slowly shift back on.
"So that's him?" Namjoon asks, shoulder bumping into Jimin as he reaches down to lace their fingers again. Jimin nods, not trusting himself to speak. Namjoon lets out a low whistle, glancing over his shoulder at the stage.
"I've got some serious competition."
Jimin laughs, shaking his head and leaning up on tip-toe to kiss Namjoon on the lips.
He doesn't see Jungkook watching them from the right hand side door, doesn't see the way Jungkook looks at him, the pair of them.
Jimin sighs as he pulls away, swinging their hands between them as Namjoon leads the way towards the exit of the hall. They're about to exit into the atrium when Jimin looks back and for a second, Jungkook swears that their eyes catch and Jimin gives him a little smile.
But the next second, Namjoon is pausing, glancing down at Jimin with a frown.
"What's up?"
And Jimin is shaking his head, "Nothing... just thinking."
"About what?" Namjoon's smile is bright and perfect and painful in its bright perfection.
Jimin smiles back, the hall going dark behind him, the silence curling around his ears till they go hot.
"About how there was never any competition to begin with."