#i have gone through so many interpretations of kims skill i have no idea

[harpyface]

My thoughts on the volta do mar

In-game, the Volta do Mar method was created to travel through the pale, being first used in the first successful voyage into the pale. Apparently it took years to develop the method, a "strict psychological regimen imitating the creation process of poetry."

In real life, the volta do mar is a Portuguese (volta do mar is Portuguese for 'Return from the Sea') sailing practice of, in simple words, sailing further out into the sea to avoid sailing directly against the wind and then catching winds that then move in the correct direction (useful since portugal is slightly north of the equator, blah blah wind directions)

While watching a playthrough, Joyce's description of Lely's tattoos reminded me of this 'return from the sea' business. Lely's tattoos are a history of his service, but originally the tattoo was a custom of sailors "mark[ing] their bodies to map their travels." "The sailor's soul would use it to fly back home if they should die abroad. This is a sort of… contraption. To be reeled back in by." If a sailor died, their soul would 'return from the sea'(😮).

The pale is likened to the ocean many times in Disco Elysium, so these tattoos and the volta mantras are very similar. They are linked even more when we see that the tattoo custom was begun "right after the discovery of Insulinde," so the creation of voltas and the creation of this tradition kind of bookend the eighth expedition. Likening the irl volta do mar practice and this in game example got me thinking about how exactly in-game voltas are used and created.

(Interesting note, Joyce describes these tattoos as "the silver cord" linking the soul and home, whereas irl, the concept of the silver cord is supposed to link the soul and the body.)

Personally, the concept that is pale was hard enough for me to grasp (even with it being an established fictional concept with, like, words to describe it.) It's "the opposite of reality," it's a property that suspends other properties, and it can damage human minds. According to Joyce, dialectical materialists argue that "pale somehow *consists* of past information, that's degrading. That it's rarefied past, not rarefied matter."

"They call it the *blend-over of the self*. The pale does not only suspend the laws of physics, but also the laws of psychology, maybe History, even… The human mind becomes over-radiated by past."

We can assume that this 'blend-over of the self' is true because of the Paledriver, who is observably pale-radiated and lost in worlds in lives that her body hasn't lived.

Operating on this theory, the pale is made of information, and I would also like to argue that pale is made of not only past information, but also future information, and information about alternate timelines.

In the moralist vision quest, we hear entroponetic crosstalk of Kim from the future *and* arguably an alternate timeline if he ends up in the hospital and doesn't end up at the islet. So pale is basically all information and possibilities.

The only explicit example of a Volta do Mar is from the Insulindian Miracle thought, and it's song lyrics from What If by Teho Teardo & Blixa Bargeld. This thought establishes that voltas are 1) Taught in schools and 2) Repeated like mantras while travelling. The voltas aren't mentioned in Sacred and Terrible Air, by name at least. Zigi does sing Helvetti, by Kauko Röyhkä & Riku Mattila, in pale, but that's explicitly a song and not a poem, and obviously he doesn't need to resist the effects of the pale (and if fact doesn't want to drive away the pale, based on his reaction to Nilsen's 'Communism is white' speech when it started to ward off the surrounding pale.)

When Joyce says that the method is a "strict psychological regimen imitating the creation process of poetry," my thinking was that it can't be as simple as reciting poetry while travelling through the pale. It might be, but wouldn't the process *be* the process of creating poetry and not 'imitating' it? Of course, it could just be referencing the research it took for the explorers to be able to safely traverse the pale, but I wasn't satisfied with that.

(I'll admit, when I first began building this theory, I didn't know that we had an explicit example of a volta, and it stumped me for a bit, but I think it works still.)

I've seen interpretations in which the poetic nonsense of voltas force the person to focus on reality/on their own mind, to focus on the next word in the sequence. But using the real world volta do mar technique as a base, I started building my own theory by considering that the voltas mirror the technique of the irl volta do mar. Voltas would be  performed by a person going deeper into the pale (whether mentally or physically) in order to somehow escape the effects more easily.

Having already established that the pale is information, it makes sense that the way to manoeuvre it would be via words and concepts. Prior to remembering The Insulindian Miracle thought, my theory was that, instead of pilots being *taught* previously written mantras, they were taught to create poetry while immersed in the pale. The pilot's mind would then grasp the floating information that is pale to string the words together into a distinct phrase/poem, intentionally going deeper into the pale to get enough material to work with. With the resulting phrase, it would be grounding enough to bring the pilot back to reality.

However, all of that is irrelevant when you consider the volta that Harry was taught.

Or is it?

The Insulindian Miracle solution says that "you were taught it at school. It is one of the Volta do Mar mantras repeated on the voyage that lead to the discovery of the Insulindian isola." I could interpret it as saying that voltas are written in advance, or that *historical* voltas are taught in grade school, just like we're taught historical documents or literature. Maybe children of Revachol are taught about the voltas that the discoverers of their isola used simply for academic knowledge. 

And as Joyce says, the Volta do Mar is also used by "other troubled souls even to this day." Ordinary people may not have access to the bank of information that is the pale, but they do have their own troubling thoughts that they can pick words and concepts from to still go through the same process that I've described in order to calm themselves or relieve stress.

I do want to analyse Kim's Volta do Mar skill at a later time using all of this, but right now this is what I have to offer :)

(An excellent post that I was inspired by is about the connection between water and memories by @/57sfinest, which I would like to briefly reference at the end of all this analysis. Imagine it as a triangle, one point is the ocean that the sailor's souls would have to return from (or the irl ocean that the volta do mar was used for, if you like), the second point is the past and memories, and the third point is the pale, the "rarefied past." It's all connected.)

[jimlingss]

Brass & Strings [10]

Episode 9 - Episode 10 - Episode 10.5 OR Episode 11 Words: 5.2k Genre: Fluff, Humour (?), Slice of Life, Music!Au, College!Au Summary: Have you ever wondered what happens to the mean girl after high school? Where do they go, where do they end up? More importantly, what happens when they get mixed up with the classic nerd that's always too nervous to answer 'no'? Things become a lot more complicated when Kim Namjoon encounters you. They dub you as 'bat-shit insane' and you're not ashamed.

Cr.

Taehyung runs up to the pair, startling Jimin who has no idea who he is. “Namjoon! Namjoon!”

The harpist takes the saxophonist’s hands. “Are you okay?”

“No!” He sobs out, “the euphoniums really left! They’re refusing to play at the competition until they get better treatment but the conductor isn’t budging. I don’t know what to do! It’s in three weeks!”

Jimin stares back between the musicians, a little amused by the situation that’s growing at hand. “I’m Jimin.” He shakes the delirious boy’s hand. “Namjoon’s roommate.”

Taehyung wipes his tears. “I’m Taehyung, I-I play saxophone. Or at least I used to! At this rate it’s all going to fall apart!” Jimin makes an ‘o’ shape with his lips and slowly nods. “The scholarships! The opportunities! If we can’t play...it’s all gone! What do I do, Namjoon?”

The boy in question doesn’t say anything in spite of Taehyung’s cracking voice. Jimin turns his head and waves his hand in front of Namjoon’s blank face. “Uh….hello?”

Jimin and Taehyung follow his line of sight, across the courtyard...darted onto you.

A light bulb sparks inside his brain. “I have an idea of what to do.” Namjoon runs off, leaving the two university students in the dust to watch his backside disappear with yours.

“Isn’t that Namjoon’s girlfriend?”

The saxophonists become startled. “What? Y/N? No way. She’s super scary. Oh god….I hope he’s not doing what I think he’s doing. There’s no way in hell Y/N would agree.”

Jimin hums. “Whelp. Good luck.”

Taehyung tearfully whimpers in response.

//

You laugh. You laugh and laugh until it hurts your stomach, squeezing onto your internal organs. Saltwater droplets have filled your eyes and you brush them away, standing straight again after having bended over in hysterics. “That’s a really funny joke, Nams. You got me. Nice one.”

“I’m not kidding.”

Your face erases. Like a light switch, the emotions wash away and is replaced with complete seriousness and disdain.

“No.”

He matches your quick steps, trying to plead with you. “Why not? This would be a great opportunity and it would be a lot of fun. Aren’t you always looking for more chances to play? You told me yourself that tuba doesn’t get the spotlight but this is it!”

Your feet stop at your tiny locker and you grab your textbooks, snickering under your breath. “You must not understand something since you’re new here…” The locker door slams louder than necessary and you spin on your heel, poking your fingernail at his chest. “Orchestra kids and band kids,” you enunciate each title sharply, “don’t go together. Never have and never will. It’s like oil and water. Fire and ice or whatever shitty metaphor you want to use.”

In the institute you attended, there was the university orchestra, the symphonic band, the university chorus and chamber choir. Of all the groups, the orchestra and band were sworn mortal enemies in the same way the chorus and choir were rivals. If you had to use a comparison, it was much like Gryffindor versus Slytherin and Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff.

In simpler terms, the symphonic band could suck your invisible dic-

“Why does it matter?” The boy sighs, trying to comprehend you as he picks up his strides to equal yours.

“It’s simple. The orchestra is better than the band. Playing with them would downgrade my own skills.”

“They’re not that bad, Y/N.” Namjoon stares at the profile of your face, attempting to penetrate through the concrete facade.

“They march.”

“Not always. They’re sitting for this competition.”

“They play things like pop music and jazz which is terrible. Jazz is interpretation. Essentially, they’re making up shit on the spot and no one even listens to that kind of outdated music anymore. It’s bland and boring. Don’t even get me started on mainstream pop.”

“You just opened up a whole new can of worms.” He smiles and shakes his head, “they say the same thing about classical being outdated when you know it’s not true. And for this event, they’ll be playing plenty of classical pieces too. Isn’t it good to become versatile in the types of style and genres you can play in, Y/N?”

“They’re noisy and loud.”

“You and I both know that that is just a stereotype.”

As you begin stomping up the stairs, you know you’re running out of things to argue. Namjoon keeps retorting back and it seems like he won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

“Look.” You twist around on the last step, almost causing him to bump into you and tumble down the steps. You’re looking down at the boy, the fluorescent light hitting your backside and making you glow like an angel (ironically enough). “I’m treading on very thin ice as it is. I screamed at the concertmistress in front of all our peers. If they find out I’m playing with the band, even if it’s just for one occasion, it’ll be a complete fucking witch hunt.”

The dimpled man in his bright yellow hoodie smiles up at you, pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose. “I’ll protect you.”

You pause, breath hitching. Then a scoff leaves your mouth and you flick his forehead. Namjoon lets out an ‘ow’ and a pout, following as you continue treading up the stairs to the second floor.

When you look at Namjoon, he gives you the saddest and biggest puppy dog eyes in the world. You know it’s already making your heart weak. The innocent boy says nothing, trailing after you and dragging his legs in dejection. After a full minute of utter silence, you let out a groan and a whine.

“Y/N?”

“Fine!”

You have no idea what in hell you’re doing. It kind of amazes you that the harpist is able to convince you of anything. If he told you the sky was really lavender, maybe you'd believe him too.

“Only because it’s you. You helped me out with all that science stuff and I feel guilty, got it? So stop looking at me like that-!” A yelp leaves your mouth as Namjoon suddenly wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you up in the air and swinging you around in a circle. “Nams!”

He sets you down and his grin is infectious. “Thank you.”

//

It’s a bad idea. A very bad idea. If anyone sees you, they’d without a doubt make a huge scene.

“They don’t bite.” Namjoon teases and you glare at him sharply, ready to knock on the door but fist still hovering in the air. “Don’t worry. I’m going to be at the back of the room working on your science paper. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

“Uh-huh.”

There’s no turning back. This could become the worst mistake of your life. You might get scratched, kicked or your instrument might become dented if they decide to attack you.

Dammit. You should’ve brought pepper spray or something.

You look towards Namjoon, your only companion and somehow it’s enough to muster up the courage to finally knock on the door.

It swings open.

“Namjoon! Y/N!” A massive boxy grin greets you and the harpist acknowledges him back. “Come in, come in!”

You’re dragged into the small practice room packed with kids your age. Rather than the seventy students that you typically rehearse with, there are only forty people, tightly knitted together. There’s an astounding number of clarinetists and flutists, holding their instruments and staring at you. The saxophone players that you’ve never encountered before have stopped mid-step and their own brass instruments are slung around their necks like Taehyung’s. There aren’t any violin players or strings for that matter.

No one moves.

For one skipped heartbeat, you’re afraid of being attacked. But you feel relieved that Namjoon’s with you. The clumsy harpist seems like he could body slam a few folks and give you enough time to make your escape.

“This is Y/N!” Taehyung introduces you to his apprehensive classmates. They look at you like you’re a foreign, wild animal that’s wandered its way into the room. “Y/N plays tuba and she’s here to help us, everyone! Don’t be afraid!”

Some of them exchange glances and others swallow hard but everyone continues nonetheless, warming up and preparing for practice. Namjoon smiles, settling himself down in the back of the room. Taehyung brings you over to become acquainted with the others, despite your protests that you don’t care nor want to meet new people.

“Kelly! Y/N, this is Kelly. She plays baritone sax.” The girl in the sweater nods to you with tight lips and you mimic the gesture awkwardly. You can tell Taehyung’s trying his best to make you comfortable and you can appreciate his efforts. “Oh! In case you didn’t know, I play the tenor saxophone which is like the medium size. The alto sax is the smallest-”

“Yes.” You quietly interject. In the university orchestra, there aren’t any saxophone players but you at least know what the instrument is. “I’m aware.”

“Good. And Kelly, this is Y/N. She plays the-”

“You just announced it to everyone, Tae.” Kelly rolls her eyes and laughs lightly. “Plays the tuba. Hi, nice to meet you.” You shake her hand and it’s only then that you realize how many people are eavesdropping in on the conversation. They’re supposed to be warming up for the session but not one note is in the air. “You’re part of the orchestra here at school?”

“Yes. I’m the solo tubist.”

“Cool. You agreed to help us?”

You hum, “Taehyung’s a friend of an important friend so….I don’t mind.”

“Cool.” She coughs tensely, realizing how she’s overusing the same word out of nervousness. “I mean that’s...awesome. I never thought you orchestral people would want to help us. Sinceyouguysalwaysactlikeyou’rebetterthanus.” The girl says the last part in a rush and laughs it off but you catch every single word.

Taehyung intercepts before something can happen. “Why won’t you meet Hana? She plays flute!”

You resist contorting your face after hearing that particular instrument which reminds you of someone unpleasant. But when the petite girl turns around, her kind face surprisingly wipes away any bad, personal connotations. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

She speaks placidly, “you’re going to be playing for the euphoniums?”

“The tuba and euphonium aren’t the same but they’re fairly similar.”

Taehyung grins and he pulls out some paper from his folder that’s sandwiched in his armpit. “I’ve already got the sheet music for it. You think you’ll be okay?”

You take it from him, giving it a quick glance to see if you’ll be able to sight-read. “I’ll give it my best shot.”

“Let’s get started then!”

The mischievous and playful boy introduces you to a few more people until your brain throbs with the amount of names. He finally lets you go and while you’re preparing, out of the corner of your eye, you can catch a handful marvelling at the shiny brass in your lap.

In a way, there’s not many differences between the orchestra and band. The trombonists beside you don’t speak a word and are on constant edge. Most of the people around fear you and you’re isolated at the back of the room. The only true comfort you feel is Kim Namjoon. The boy in glasses holds his calculator, scribbling onto his notebook in his lap. Each and every time you look back, he always grins and shoots you an encouraging thumbs up.

“Idiot.”

The mutter leaves your lips and he looks at you in confusion, unable to hear. He makes a motion for you to repeat yourself. You shake your head with a tiny smile, “nevermind.”

You begin to play with the group to the best of your abilities, reading the notes and interpreting the score as it comes. You’re startled at how fun it is. It’s spontaneous. You don’t have to fret over every single detail and flaw. The music also has modern twists, unlike the ancient classical that you’re used to. At first, your ears catch a few murmurs, suspicions that you’re here to sabotage them but when they realize that you’re legitimately trying, the pressure alleviates from the room.

It also helps that the symphonic band students are quite kind. They’re nice people when the orchestral kids aren’t being condescending towards them. They give you a round of applause after a solo, impressed with your abilities and techniques considering that you’re looking at this music for the first time. In between pieces, some turn around to chat with you and they even joke around freely with each other.

It’s a nice atmosphere, not serious or full of strain. It’s a stark contrast to the orchestra. The band conductor is friendly as well, cracking jokes and bantering with his students.

You feel like you’ve transported into another world.

“How was it? You played really well. It sounded pretty good.”

“It was surprisingly fun.” Your irises flicker to catch a glimpse of the clumsy boy pushing up his spectacles. “They’re good people.”

He smiles proudly, “I told you so.”

“Maybe I should listen to you more often.”

From your teasing tone, he lowers himself to meet your height and to lock your eyes with his while cutely tipping his head to one side. “You should.”

“I only said maybe.” Your stomach growls and in your chipper mood, you lightly bump into him with a giggle. “Wanna go eat some crab?”

The harpist thinks about the science lecture that he really shouldn’t miss. That professor is scary enough and Namjoon suspects that he’s wary of the whole ‘Namjoon-takes-your-classes-for-you’ scheme. But then again….

Would he really want to miss an opportunity to go out and share a meal with you? “Okay. Let’s go!”

//

“Is it true?”

Two weeks have passed and you should be exhausted. In between practicing with the orchestra, you’re off to rehearsals with the band and honing your skills on your own time. You’re playing twice as much as usual, ten hours a day and whenever you’re not resting, you’re out with a suitor or two, trying to make conversation on dates. You should be tried.

Should - because you’re not.

The only reason or rather, person, you can credit that to is Namjoon. He keeps you energized, along every step of the way, by your side whenever you look to your left or right. He waits for you outside your apartment in the mornings, works on the science projects and homework in the back of the practice room. He still keeps up with his own music, studying and plucking the harp’s strings and at night, you meet up again. After shared dinner, you would both take the bus back, occasionally to his apartment to sleepover at.

If your mind were in the gutter, you would think that it’s almost like the two of you are a married couple.

“What are you talking about? I don’t have time nor the patience for your bullshit.”

“You’re playing with the symphonic band.”

Everyone stops and when people ask what’s going on, the words are reiterated in a ripple effect.

“What?”, “What did Rose just say?”, “Did she-”, “YN’s playing for the band?”, “What the hell?”, “She’s really gone crazy.”, “What the actual fuck?”.

“I am.” You stand up amongst your peers and your sharp eyes glare back at them. “So what?”

“What is wrong with you?” The flutist spits out. “We have to compete with them at the regional competition! Don’t you want to go to Nationals? You’re a traitor.”

“Stop being dramatic. I’m helping them for this occasion and it’s not even applicable to you. In fact, I don’t see how my actions matter to any of you!”

The murmuring quiets down and Rose snickers in disbelief. “Why don’t you join them then?”

“Excuse me?”

“Leave.” She twists. “No one wants you here anyways. You’ve done more bad than good anyways. Do you even know the amount of problems you’ve caused us? No one likes your bitchy attitude. We can easily find another…” The girl makes a wild gesture to your bulky brass instrument. “...tuba.”

“You guys!” Jennie stands up, interfering as the concertmistress. “Stop it right this instant. Rose, you’re acting immaturely. What Y/N does outside of this room is none of our business.”

You cross your arms. “She’s right.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever agreed with the first chair violinist. You’d usually spite her, tell her to fuck off and back out of your argument but you finally realized it. This entire time, Jennie has been trying harder than anyone. She’s pissed you off in the past, being a timid goodie two shoes like every annoying heroine character that believes in the good of people. But her goal as the concertmistress has always been to unite the orchestra.

She wants to create a friendly atmosphere like that of the band’s. It’s impossible.

The air here is too suffocating. It’s too serious with the over looming pressure to do well in order to build a career in the music industry for the future. You can understand why Yoongi left.

“Rose. Sit down.” Jennie’s eyes glisten but you recognize the underlying gleam, an appreciative nod that translates to how thankful she is for you taking her side.

“You think you’re all that special?” The flutist ignores her friend, smirks and shoves your shoulder. “No one cares about your instrument.”

You grasp at her oncoming hand before she can slap you. The discomfort of the entire room elevates and a few watch in amusement, others in horror and a handful sneering. “If you think a few insults will make me leave then you’re wrong. I’m going nowhere.”

The girl lets out a screech and Namjoon pulls you back before she can swing.

The gentle hands on the dips of your waist startle you but there’s no change in your expression. Namjoon would never intercept, not when he hated to draw attention and was too timid to be aggressive like you but he’s made a promise to support you.

He was the reason why you were aiding the band anyways.

“Is there something the matter?”

His timbre is low and with the two of you challenging back at her, in addition to the rest of the class. Rose is helpless. No one steps up, not when they’re intimidated by your aura and Namjoon’s height and large build. The pair of you could belong to a gang for all they knew.

“Ugh! You’re a bitch. A traitorous bitch!”

Jennie tugs her back. Namjoon lets you go. You cross your arms again with a smirk.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

//

“You know what? You’re right, Namjoon. I think I’ve judged Y/N falsely.”

“How so?”

Taehyung shrugs, “she really isn’t that bad. If you aren’t mean to her, she isn’t mean to you. I can see why you like her. But I’ll admit Y/N’s still a bit scary.”

“Yeah.” Then Namjoon’s mind reels. “Wait. What? What did you say about me liking her?”

There’s radio silence on the other end of the phone call and the saxophonist quickly switches the subject, rambling about something else.

The harpist replays the same conversation over and over again in his head but he still can’t quite wrap his mind around it. If Taehyung was suggesting that he harbored a crush for you, then his friend is wrong. Sure, Namjoon likes you but not in the romantic aspect. It’s platonic.

You’re overbearing. You’re spoiled. You have to get your way and you always do, either through manipulation or threats. You are the absolute epitome of the mean girls within the movie or the villain in fairytales but those are all surface level things. You’re sensitive, passionate and driven, funny and witty….cute.

It’s platonic. He simply sees you for who you are. There’s nothing more.

Right?

//

This is the best day of his life. Hands down.

As Kim Seokjin hauls the art supplies he stole from school, he is bustling with excitement. However, the poster paper, markers and paints, rolling brushes and crayons are a bit much. He tottles from one side of the sidewalk to the other, apologizing to the people he bumps into, cursing his meager strength and short height.

“Jin?”

The middle schooler peeks his head out and gasps. “Predator!”

“It’s Namjoon!” He protests with a shrill voice, appalled to be even called such a name. “What are you doing?”

“None of your business- Hey!” The kid protests when the much taller man takes his paints and maker packs. It doesn’t occur to him that he can see forward now. “Give it back!”

“Where are you going? I can help you.”

“I-” Jin grumbles, sporting the same yellow backpack on his shoulders. He seems to debate with himself before he concedes the honest truth to Namjoon. “I’m going to the park to make a poster. A sign.”

“For?”

“Y/N.” The short boy grins. “She’s performing this evening, right?”

Namjoon had dropped you off of the venue an hour ago. There were last minute tweaks and preparations to be done. He, on the other hand, had to go submit a biochemistry paper and was planning to go right back - until he bumped into Jin. “How did you know about that?”

Jin is bubbling with pride as he walks alongside Namjoon, proud that he’s in the loop with everyone else. “It’s on your university website!”

“You’re very informative.”

“Of course! It’s Y/N after all and she’s my idol.”

They make it to the park, setting down the items on the picnic table. “Is it okay if I work with you? Two hands are faster than one.”

The middle schooler takes off his backpack and blinks upwards, contemplating for a long second. “Okay. I already have an outline! There are stickers that I got too and only use neon colours! Y/N’s name is going right at the center of the poster.”

Namjoon giggles, sitting down across from the boy and the two of them begin on the artwork masterpiece, surprisingly having an enjoyable time. Jin loosens up and banters back and forth with the harpist, teasing the poor and timid college student.

“Hey, you! Suck-jin.” A horde of taller middle schooler delinquents begins to approach, popping gum in their mouth and kicking rocks on the ground. “What are you doing, dork? Are you doing an elementary kid’s work? They bullied you into it or did the teachers finally hold you back because of your height?”

They childishly laugh together, coming closer and closer. A girl simpers, “where’s your milk?” Another demands for their lunch money and one of the guys grabs onto the sunny backpack.

Jin stops ignoring them and stands up from his spot. “Hey! Give that back!”

The boy holds his arm high in the air. “Try to take it away from me, shortie.”

The bag that is as bright as the sunshine itself is suddenly ripped away from the ruffian’s grasps. He inhales and looks up, the light piercing the looming man’s backside. Namjoon grins, one that mimics the Chester’s cat and is as intimidating as the Grim Reaper himself. “That’s not very nice.”

The children scramble back and Jin grins. Namjoon steps forward. “Don’t you know this kid has an older sister who is really psychotic? If she catches you doing things like this to him, I’m not sure you'll live to tell the tale.”

“Oh my god.” The girl mutters out. “Is he talking about that girl? The one who beat us up?”

They screech at the top of their lungs, dispersing. Namjoon sets down the backpack and Jin sits back on the bench, continuing to scribble away. “Thanks….for that.”

The harpist wonders why they ran so quickly. “No problem.”

“I miss Y/N.” Jin confesses with full sincerity. “I haven’t seen her in awhile.”

“Yeah.” Namjoon’s not sure why since it’s only been two hours but- “I miss Y/N too.”

//

He’s arranged it very well. In the dark auditorium, Seokjin has reserved the front seat on top of the balcony, dressed in bright pink and a flashing headband. The kid is clearly visible in the entire concert hall. He holds the massive sign with your name and a picture of you in the corner, unsympathetic to how he’s obstructing the view of the people behind him. “Woo! Y/N! LET’S GO!”

Jin chants your name like the true fan he is but the stage is empty and after five minutes, he sits back to reserve energy. “You’re very dedicated.”

“Only to the best.” Jin snaps his fingers and does finger guns. “Because I am the best.”

“Namjoon?” The two of them turn around, met with a different pair in casual clothes. “So, it is you!”

“Jennie! Yoongi!” He smiles and they take their seats next to him.

“I came here to support Y/N.” The concertmistress smooths out her floral skirt. “And of course the band. I think it’s very kind of Y/N to help them out. I heard about the problems they were having.”

“I came with her.” Yoongi coughs and when Jennie side-eyes him, he sighs. “Oh, and to see my dear cousin as well. My very dear, blood relative that loves to ask me for cash and terrorizes my coworkers.”

Jennie seems somewhat satisfied with the answer and leans over, amused with Jin and his colourful attire and poster. “This is…?”

“I’m Y/N’s boyfriend!”

“You are?” She smiles and her brows furrow, pupils redirected to the harpist. “But I thought you were, Namjoon.”

“N-no. I’m not. We’re both here to show our support. Y/N’s not really dating him...or me! She’s dating no one...well...not really...I- uh...He’s Jin, by the way. They met on another occasion.” Namjoon doesn’t know why he’s flustered by the mere thought of dating you.

Dating which means holding hands...hugging...kissing...becoming intimate-

Stop thinking about it! He slaps his cheek to snap out of it and Jennie is taken back. A second later, she laughs to herself.

Yoongi stares at Jin without an expression. “You did a whole poster, kid?”

“I sure did and don’t call me kid! I’m a man.”

“Sure, kid.” Yoongi smiles softly. “Wow. It seems like Y/N has some serious admirers.”

For a plain moment, your cousin’s eyes flicker to Namjoon’s face which is still reddened and steaming. Yoongi smirks.

There’s a bit of a mutual silence as all four listen to the introduction by one of the judges and one rather good band performance. It’s only until they hear a shallow exhale that they all turn to their left by the staircase. “Jin?!”

“Hoseok!” He giggles nervously. “What a coincidence!”

The trumpet player marches, unfazed by the staring eyes of the people around. “Are you skipping class?”

The middle-schooler struggles to find an answer and copies the one that Namjoon and Jennie said earlier. “I came to show my support for you!”

“That’s a poster with Y/N’s name.”

“I can explain.”

Hoseok exhales again but dramatically this time, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t try to. And you again? Namjoon?”

“It’s not his fault.” Jin rushes to defend and his older brother answers with ‘yeah, yeah, I know’. Namjoon is too timid and kind to be the type to corrupt Jin, drag him into a cult or kidnap him. At least Hoseok feels comforted that his younger brother isn’t running around with total strangers.

Namjoon smiles as the trumpet player collapses into the chair. “You’re competing?”

“Yep. I’m part of both the orchestra and band in my university.” A smirk reaches up his lips and he pretends to whip back his non-existent long hair. “Impressive. I know.”

Jin puts a hand to his mouth, leaning over to Namjoon and whispering, “he doesn’t have a life outside of music. Not a social one and not a girlfriend. It’s sad.”

“You’re the one to speak, twerp!” He hits the younger man’s head, making Jin let out a whimper and a cry. The rows of people behind them are no longer eavesdropping or paying attention, waiting as the judges finish up with their decision. Meanwhile, Hoseok’s eyes land three chairs down. “Oh my god. Is that who I think it is?!”

“Hoseok.” Yoongi waves and smiles. “Hey. It’s been awhile.”

The middle schooler is absolutely bewildered. “You know each other? What the heck?! How do you know these people and I don’t?!”

“Band camp.” Hoseok reminisces with his eyes glossed over. “Yoongi was in senior year and he snuck in fireworks. They caught the entire grounds on fire. Everyone knows him.”

Yoongi chuckles, “good times.’

Jennie nudges him, “I’ve never heard of that story.”

Hoseok notices her immediately and takes interest. “Who is this beautiful lady?”

“Jennie.” They awkwardly shake hands and she smiles. “I play violin, concertmistress of the university orchestra with Y/N.”

“Impressive...smart. And pretty.”

Yoongi’s pupils sharpen. “Uh-huh.”

“Well I’ve got to get backstage but it was nice seeing all of you...” Hoseok grits his teeth at his brother who only sheepishly smiles. “....even if you’re not here to support me specifically.

Namjoon wishes him luck. “Break a leg!”

“Thanks.”

The performance continues with intermediate breaks, judges discussing the credentials and techniques of each band. Hoseok’s plays rather decently, causing all four to be astounded. Jennie takes mental notes while Namjoon makes comments, the both of them critiquing the groups and guessing what the panelists will comment on. When they’re unable to decide what is excellent or merely acceptable, Yoongi interjects and he always brings a brighter perspective with obvious points. Jin just claps.

Taehyung hollers as he steps out on stage.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” Jin chants your name, holding up the poster. When they find you humiliated, everyone’s eyes suddenly on you, Yoongi joins in with the fun and screams along. Jennie laughs, clapping her hands and Namjoon smiles, calling your name out softly - “Y/N.”

Before the four of them can be thrown out, they settle down.

The playing is impeccable, a high standard to back up the university's name. Jennie is able to discern why despite the arrogant nature of her peers, they still find the symphonic band a threat. Yoongi nods along and Namjoon listens, spending his entire time gazing at you.

“It’s part of the top ten so far.” Your cousin murmurs, following the flute and baseline’s melting harmonics. “They’ll at least win second place and maybe a supreme award.”

The performance ends with a roar, thunderous applause and everyone stands and bows. Jin screams your name, waving his poster. Yoongi grins and claps with Jennie who smiles brightly.

The corner of Namjoon’s mouth draws up high into his cheeks and as he leans over the ledge with Jin, shouting your name and being completely noisy, his glasses slide down his nose. The spectacles nearly drop from fifty feet from the balcony but the clumsy boy manages to catch it with both his hands. He sighs out in relief and smiles embarrassingly to you.

As you stare up at him, that’s enough to make you laugh and feel content.