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And why was she going to see him when she didn’t know the answer to that question?

She found a parking space a block from his apartment.  Then, she hurried to his building and took the elevator to the eleventh floor.  A couple minutes later, she stood in front of his apartment.  Wondering if she should knock.  She didn’t want to disturb his neighbors.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and texted him.

—

He really needed a drink.  The grief was overwhelming him tonight.  But he had no wine in his apartment.  He had either poured it all down the drain or drunk it all. 

He hadn’t had a craving like this since he’d gotten smashed the night he’d sent her home.  Without playing for her.  He realized that was partly to blame for the grief bubbling up within him tonight.  She hadn’t responded to his text.  And part of him was interpreting that silence as her no longer wanting to hear him play.  

It had been so important to her before.  But now, she was silent.  The rational part of his brain knew she was probably just asleep.  But an insecure corner of his heart was sure she had just rejected him.

He stood up.  And went to look for his keys.  The corner market was open all night.  He could get a bottle of wine there.  He knew the guy who worked there.  

His hand was on the doorknob when he suddenly stilled himself.

Do you want to be a man worthy of her?

What does it matter if she no longer wants me?

You don’t know that.  She’s just sleeping.

No, she’s awake.  I’m too late.  She doesn’t want me.

His inner struggle might have continued, but suddenly his phone chimed.  He pulled it from his pocket.  It was only two words.  But those two little words made him completely forget about that bottle of wine.

I’m here.

He unlocked the door and turned the knob.  And stood face to face with the girl he loved.  For several long moments, they simply stared at one another.  

Finally, she whispered, “Well, are you going to invite me in, or not?”

He pulled the door open all the way as he stepped back.  She followed him.  She was nervous.  He could tell.  She was biting her lip.  She crossed the room towards his piano.

“Are you still playing?” Her voice was a quiet murmur.

“Yes,” he answered as he followed her.  

He longed to reach out and draw her into his arms.  But he was afraid he would scare her, so instead he crossed to his piano bench and sat down.  Then, as he placed his fingers on the keys, he glanced up at her.  

“You can join me on the bench.”

She glanced down at the narrow bench.  There was just enough room for her to sit to his right.  She scooted in next to him and closed her eyes.  She waited with bated breath for him to play.

His eyes were tracing her face as his fingers began to move on the keys.  He let everything he was feeling for her in that moment flow through his fingers into those keys.  He played a new song.  One inspired by his affection for her.  

He kept his eyes on her face the entire time, so he didn’t miss her tears as they stole silently down her cheeks.  She kept her eyes closed throughout the whole song.  

When his fingers finally stilled, he murmured, “I wrote that song for you, Nari.”

Her eyes fluttered open as pure shock flowed across her face.  

“What?”

He nodded.  “Just now.  I played what I was feeling for you.  What I’m still feeling for you.”

His feelings were wrapping around her right now.  Like a warm blanket.  Overwhelming her heart with a peaceful heat.  She inhaled but found her breath had flown.  His eyes were invading hers with a look so intense she felt like she was going to explode.  Tears continued to course down her cheeks.

“It’s absolutely…beautiful.”  Then she frowned.  “That’s not a good enough word, but I can’t think of anything wonderful enough to describe what you just played.”  Her velvet eyes delved deeply into his.  “Will you play it again?” she whispered.  

He nodded.  She pulled her phone from her pocket and turned on Voice Memos.  His fingers began to chase each other up and down the piano keys.  Her heart rose every time the music did.  And it dipped when the melody did.  But by the end of the song, it was thudding along in her chest.  Yoongi had written her a song!  A stunningly beautiful song!

“I have no words,” she murmured.  “I wish I did.”

Her eyes locked with his.  He had turned towards her.  He reached out then and cupped her face with his palm.  His fingers were resting along her jawline.  But his thumb brushed lightly upwards towards her ear.  She felt the pad of that soft thumb slide through the tracks of her tears.

But then his head dipped, and his lips brushed across that wet path.  And her heart stopped.  

She knew exactly what that stillness meant.  Her heart didn’t belong to her anymore.  He’d just stolen it from her.  Softly.  Silently.  Sweetly.  With the pad of his thumb.  And the brush of his lips against her cheek.  And the look in his speaking eyes.