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old cigarettes | min yoongi


a little over a year after the death of your parents, you're struggling to keep your music store open and provide for your sister. after spotting him at one of your mini performances in a local park, yoongi makes your life turn. the question is though, is it for better? or for worse?

Romance / Drama
Age Rating:

Chapter 1

a gentle breeze.

a hushed whisper.

this is what made up your early morning as you set yourself up in your usual park for another session of playing. every saturday, you would bring your equipment and set up in the chilly early morning when frost still lingered on the grass to promote your shop. business hadn’t been that good recently, and since you had your little sister to manage the shop, you decided to have fun while gathering more customers.

you slid your guitar case off your shoulder after you’d set up your stool, microphone and the sign that gave directions to your shop. barely anyone was around the park at this hour, so you wouldn’t start playing until you’d eaten your breakfast you’d brought with you. it was a shame no one came around to the park at this hour; you thought it was the prettiest time to be here. with the hushed color of the grass, the birds only just awakening to sing their song, and the gentle flowing of the nearby river. it was peaceful. it was quiet. just how you liked it.

as the breeze started to pick up, you tucked your long hair into your beanie so it wouldn’t get in the way of your precious meal. sure, it was beautiful in the park at this hour, but it was also unbelievably cold this time of year. you unwrapped the foil on your sandwich and started eating. this would most likely be your only meal until the end of the day, so it was better to make the most of it.

after you’d finished your meal, shoving the plastic wrapping into the pocket of your coat, you plugged your guitar into the speaker, and strummed the nylon strings gently. the calming sound of your acoustic echoed throughout the trees, bouncing off the river. you plugged your microphone into the speaker as well, deciding to do a quick sound check. as the sound of your guitar filled the park, you couldn’t deny that it was one of the most calming things in the world.

you’d written this song yourself, and it meant a lot to you. you continued the first verse and stopped when you got to the pre-chorus. you decided that would be the first song you would play. it matched the early atmosphere so well. all that was left was to wait. as you absentmindedly strummed the finger sequences for some of the songs you’d chosen to perform, the time flew faster than you thought.

soon, there were families and couples everywhere. those were the types of people that came to the park most often. sometimes there were lonely people, homeless people, and the like, but all the couples in the park especially made your heart drop. you knew what you’d lost. and there was no getting it back. a month after he’d left, when you were out performing, you had to fight back tears when you looked at the couples who came and stayed for a song or two. but now, when you realized where your train of thought was going, you stopped yourself. you had neither the time or energy to deal with that loss.

which is exactly what you did today. shaking the thoughts out of your head, you picked up your guitar and sat down on your stool and started the song. people came by, some stayed for a couple of songs, and some even left money in your guitar case. but only a small handful gave your sign an interested look. at least some left money, so at least you could feed yourself.

you stopped performing a couple of times for drinks from the water bottle you always brought with you, but other than that, you continued your performance without stopping. sometime in the afternoon, you began to notice someone.


this was a different him, but this one was always at your performances in the afternoon, and more often than not, left a generous amount of money. you had never seen him at your shop, but according to your sister, he had come in at one point and looked at the line of pianos lining the walls of the music shop, and even tapped out a tune a couple of times. he always came by when you weren’t there, and that bothered you, as his money had fed you and your sister numerous times. you wanted to thank him.

you could stop performing after this song and go up to him, but you had attracted quite a large group now, and you didn’t want to lose their attention. and besides, there would be no way to push your way to the back of the crowd where he was. you continued your performance, your gaze regularly straying back to him. he was wearing a mask to cover the bottom half of his face, like the ones people wear when they’re sick. he always wore this mask, so you didn’t even know what he looked like. with the way he was dressed, he looked like he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

when you finished your performance at four in the afternoon sharp, you didn’t expect for him to still be standing there. you put your guitar down and moved your hair behind your shoulder from when it untucked itself at some point in the day. stuffing your hands in your coat after closing your guitar case with today’s earnings, you turned around to find him standing a meter away from you. you had to admit, it was creepy how he had just walked up to you and you didn’t hear it. you looked at him properly, up and down.

he was wearing a long coat, ripped jeans, and a white shirt. he was wearing a bucket hat, probably to hide the pale blue locks you could see peaking out from under it. but what caught your eye the most was his own eyes. the brown abyss of them were clouded with sorrow and kindness. of course, this confused you. why? and why was he just standing in front of you like a creep?

deciding to speak first, you did a polite bow. “thank you so much for all the money you’ve given me, you have no idea how much it has helped me and my sister.” you righted yourself to look him in the eyes again.

you heard him take a deep breath through his mask. “you’re welcome,” he said, his voice sweet as honey. “i have six brothers, so i know what it’s like to struggle with taking care of a family.”

your eyes widened slightly. not only was this the first time you’d heard him speak, but you realized he had given you all this money, even when he had that many brothers to take care of. while you were dedicated to your thoughts, he reached a slightly shaky hand out of his pocket and handed you a couple of notes. automatically accepting it, your hands circled around the notes as your brain struggled to catch up.

by the time you had whipped your head up and comprehended that he’d given you this money when he had a family to take care of, again, he was turning away, his feet dragging slightly on the stone path. the hand that had given you the money was still hanging out of his pocket. your feet thinking for you, you raced forward towards him. as you grabbed his wrist, he spun around to face you, confusion etched on what little you could see of his face.

you turned his pale hand around, pressing the notes into his open palm. “you have six brothers. you need it more than i do.”

the man shook his head. “we have more than enough money now. trust me when i say you need it more than we do. you and your sister look so underfed.”

you winced. yes, you were both underweight, probably bordering dangerously underweight. you both had large bags under your eyes and slightly sunken cheekbones. for a minute, you wondered how he knew what your sister looked like. then, you remembered, he’d visited the shop a couple of times when you weren’t there. “at least tell me your name...” you muttered before your brain could stop your lips from moving.

he visibly stiffened, hesitating. this action made you immediately suspicious. who hesitates to tell someone their name? you had obviously narrowed your eyes at him as he looked slightly panicked before mumbling something.


he mumbled the words again, but this time it was loud enough for you to catch. “min yoongi.”

“huh. that name sounds kinda familiar. well, thanks, i guess. make sure you come by the shop when i’m around next time, okay?” with that, you left yoongi with his notes pressed into his hand.

you packed your equipment, putting the money you earned in a pocket of your suitcase that you used to carry your microphone and speaker and zipping it tightly to make room room for your guitar. by the time you were packed up and making your way out of the park to get some food, yoongi was nowhere to be found.

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