#for my writings that I couldn't find suitable gif/pic

[jeontrack-blog]

I’m All Ears

→ Pairing: Yoongi X Reader → Genre: Angst, Listener!AU → Word Count: 2, 479K  → Summary: A love that never got the chance to blossom → A/N: So it has been quiet a while since the last time I have published something out here. And this short writing is somewhat a turning point for me to experiment on new things. I receive a lot of praises for my smut writings, and I am honestly so grateful, but I also know that I could do more aside that. So this is me dishing out an angst writing, inspired by a manga I once read a long way back /I’ll try to remember the title and link it for you to read/ from which I got the Listener!AU idea from. I hope this stirs up something in you!

The dingy bell on the top right of your door frame gave off a little ring as the door halted to a stop, your last client of the day exiting out with a smile on her face and a less heavy heart, leaving you in a peaceful silence.Stretching your arms up above you in a stretch as you rolled your head from side to side, easing away the knots that had tangled themselves throughout the day. A sigh left your lips, eyelids fluttering close for the briefest of moments, feeling the strain of the day creep up to you.

Being a psychology student was much tougher than what others presumed it to be, especially now that you were a senior. And endless new modules and thesis just seem to find their way piling up on top of each other. But that didn’t stop you from working part time at La Masion De L’Ecoute, which means The Listening house in French. 

Because a listening house is exactly what its is.

Never  in your lifetime would you have believed that such place would actually exist. You remembered the first time you had found it, trudging your body on the busy sidewalk of the main street when you stumbled upon a neat, peaceful looking little house that came in contrast with the ever so present amount of vehicles and people that pass by the street everyday in a sea of masses, a bold WANTED: LISTENER in red paint plastered against a white illustration board, hanging somewhat a little sideways on its front window. You had stared at it with a baffled expression on you face, “Listener? Like someone who listens? A listener?” intrigued, you went inside, the comfy atmosphere of the place engulfing you in its warmth the moment you had stepped in, and it was like the whole aura of the house just made your muscles relax with ease.

You walked up to the lady on what seemed like the front desk, a dark chestnut wood with a cute little bell that was meant to be rang when a client came in. The lady, whose name you later learned was Solbi, told you all about the house and what they do, a soft smile never once leaving her lips as she said everything with passion that you knew she undoubtedly loved her job. It turns out that it was a place where people go if they wanted to vent out, to complain about their tiresome life, or about their cheating boyfriends or if they just simply wanted someone to listen to them, and at that moment you thought that it was such a beautiful thing.

We all have had times when we’re going through some things where we just want someone to be there to listen to what our hearts carry, but sadly we don’t always find someone who’s willing to, or we never had the courage to actually voice it out in the first place.

Your heart leaped at the thought, accidentally shouting out with new found passion that you’d like to take the job. And Solbi, still startled, offered you a small laugh before asking you to take a seat so she can interview you for a bit to see if you can take on the role of being a listener.

Your background as a psychology student was a major plus in proving that you were more than likely fit for the job, that people can open up to you comfortably without feeling like they were being judge, that you’re here to listen and hang on to to every word that rolls off their tongue. And so, with a satisfied little nod and the ever so present gentle smile on her lips, she had hired you, giving a quick briefing, on when you’ll start working, about your wage and such and some more discussions about the house rules, particularly your clients’ privacy. Everything seemed reasonable, except one rule got you scrunching your eyebrows together.

You were to stay quiet. In other words, you weren’t allowed to speak, converse, or give advice to the clients. Not even to greet a hello or a goodbye. And when you had asked about this, Solbi turned her head to look at you once more, caught in mid action of returning to the front desk, answering you with honeyed voice.

“People come here because no one else allows their voices to be heard. Because they want to be the one to talk this time, to not have someone speaking over them. We’re here to listen, not to butt in as they’re talking -no, we’re here to listen”

You peered out the window, the setting sun gracing its last few rays on your skin and painting the whole room in different hues of oranges as its muted light filtered through the curtains. It was almost 5:30, and you felt your heart skip a little beat when you remembered that you actually had one more client left, a fond smile finding its way to adorn your lips. It was not like you actually forgot that he was coming -you’ve been on the edge of your seat since the clock struck three, that tightening in your heart ever so present with the persistent churning in your stomach that seemed more like birds soaring than fluttering butterflies.

He had first came in on a late afternoon much like this, ink black hair and onyx eyes that seemed to hold a certain warmth despite its coolness, the orange and golden light embracing him in a way that made him look ethereal as he pulled back the chair in front you to take a seat, and you could feel yourself completely going mute at his presence -yep, looks like you won’t be breaking that no speaking rule anytime soon.

You stared at him, wondering just what could be bothering this piece of art, ears already on alert to whatever he has to say, but instead of speaking and venting out to you, he remained silent and watched the sun set down. There was something about it that was oh so tender in a way that it seemed genuinely tranquil, and you kept looking at him, adoring the way the remaining sliver of light glided across his face, adorning it in shadows that somehow only managed to show his beauty even more. You had no clue if he didn’t notice that you’d been staring at him for almost an hour or if he’d known all the while and just chose not to mention it.

He had left after a few minutes when the sun was completely gone, voice raspy and velvety at the same time, rippling through the air as he muttered a thank you and bid farewell. And you were left there breathless, wondering if he was even real or if you’d only just imagined everything.

He would always come back on Thursdays, would always come in as the sun showered him in colors, would always take a sit and watch the sunset turn the skies into a pastel painting, would always remain quiet, his eyes holding glimmers that you couldn’t for the life of you decipher.

But it was different today, you could feel it the instance he entered your room, the fourth out of the five rooms in the house. He took his seat,  resting his chin on his hand and rather than letting the usual sea of peace consume them, his voice pierced through the air. “You know” -a pause, a fleeting moment of letting everything sink in, not only for you, but for him as well, and he swallowed before allowing himself to speak once more “They said I won’t last soon”

You had snapped your head from looking out the window to stare at him with wide eyes, breath stuttering and failing to come out evenly as you waited for him to continue speaking while he continued to gaze out into the view of the sunset. “They found a hole, just a little bigger than a penny, on my heart” he scoffed at that and you almost hadn’t notice that you were holding your breath. It was like slamming into a brick wall in full force. “I knew something was wrong, I just didn’t expect it to be-” his voice cracked and he stopped himself from letting any more words spill out, and in that moment he looked oh so vulnerable that you wanted to leap out of your seat to envelop him in your embrace. He turned his face to meet your eyes and you were instantly drowning in them. “But it’s not that bad, at least I’ll be with my parents again when I go up there” he chuckled dryly at you before getting up to leave with no other words, not even his usual goodbyes. Your own heart was hurting as tears pricked the corners of your eyes, blinking it away and slapping your face a few times as you tried to get a hold of yourself.

He came back the next Thursday, face looking paler than you had remembered, bags hanging under his eyes and he seemed thinner than before, though he was still beautiful, always a walking piece of art.

He took his usual seat and you weren’t sure what to do, even the thought alone of just staring at him felt wrong, it made you feel so helpless, wishing nothing more than to ease the pain he must be going through. He took his phone out, pressing on the small music note icon and choosing a track, the melodious beat resonating around the four walls of the room. “Do you like it?” you nodded your head shyly, powdered rose sprinkling itself on your cheeks. He was asking you a question, he’s actually talking to you.

He smiled at your nod, looking pleased with himself, turning up the volume a few notches before speaking once more. “That’s good. Took me quiet a  while to finish it” you felt yourself grinning at his words, oh so he makes music, You liked the idea of knowing something more about him, it felt like it was another step closer to him, like a new link you now shared. “Lately it’s the only thing that’s been keeping me sane, like nothing’s wrong.” the music came to its end as he finished speaking. And you could feel the pool of tears rising in your eyes once more.

“They’re going to put me into surgery tomorrow, something about trying to patch up the hole” he had breathed out, voice a little raspy and you felt a tight tug at your heart, finally admitting to yourself then and there that there’s no doubt you’ve developed feelings for this boy sitting right in front of you. “I’m scared” you bit you tongue at that, voice almost slipping, wanting to tell him that everything was going to be alright, that you were here, that he had you. “So so scared” he finished off, his voice breaking at the end, showing his true emotions, showing just how frightened he was. You felt the courage stir in you, reaching out to hold his hand in yours, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand in soothing patterns, wishing, truly wishing that this could somehow convey your emotions, that you were here, and that you’ll go through this with him. He looked at your hands, and you started panicking, instantly regretting your actions and wishing you hadn’t done it, oh shit is he weirded out? he’s weirded out isn’t he?of course he is! I’m a fucking stranger caressing his hand!  

Sensing your panic, he smiled as softly as he can at you -his friends always said he had a grumpy face, so he made sure that his smile was as gentle as possible. Because he in fact, adores the feel of your skin against his, even if it’s just your hands touching and your thumb drawing circles on his skin, now with a little hesitation. “You know” his voice caused you to stop your movements all together, Oh god he’s probably going to say that he’s uncomfortable. I knew I shouldn’t have acted out – but before you can berate yourself with more thoughts, he stops you with his words. “I never got to tell you my name” you look wide eyed at him, “Yoongi, it’s Yoongi” you wanted to test it on your tongue, and he too wanted to hear it slip past your lips, and Yoongi looked at you with a new found fondness. But before you can even thing about breaking the no speaking rule to say his name like you oh so wanted to, he stood up, tucked his chair in like he always does before he leaves, craning his head sideways to look at you from the corner of his eyes, biding you goodbye before saying something that made you smile brightly at him before he left, feeling as if you’d won the lottery. “If my surgery goes well, what do you say we go out to get a cup of coffee? Then maybe you can finally tell me your name”

You were buzzing the next Thursday, letting the orange light paint you in it’s beauty as you waited for Yoongi to arrive and fulfill his promise. Already picturing the  smile that would grace his face when he finally gets to hear your voice for the very first time, what coffee you two would be ordering, what you’ll be talking about as the first few stars peeked out and the evening sky takes over in the everlasting hues of the universe. And you’re already able to hear how your name would sound as he says it, and it’s beautiful, and you couldn’t wait to have it come true.

So you sat there, waiting, and waiting up until only the last few strands of the sun were bleeding through the curtains. No sign of him or his ink black hair, nor the gray sweater that was undoubtedly his favorite, nor his onyx eyes.

And something sank at your stomach, something heavy and dark, coming with realization, the thought utterly horrific that you feel bile rising up your throat. Knowing right at that moment that he wouldn’t come, that something had gone wrong, that he wouldn’t be coming anymore even after this, ever. And so you smiled out into the last bit of the sun, its rays blinding your eyes in orange and painting your tears in daffodils, a choked cry still managing to escape from your tightly clamped mouth, allowing your lips to part as the four walls of your room heard your voice for the very first time, soft as you hoped that he was listening. The few words you uttered mixing in with the air almost as soon as it left your lips.

“Y/N, my name is Y/N”