The Healing Power of Music

The soft glow of the studio lights cast long shadows across the wooden floor, the air thick with quiet anticipation. Taehyung sat at the grand piano, his fingers hovering over the keys, hesitating. The room smelled faintly of old sheet music and polished wood, a comforting scent that wrapped around him like a familiar embrace.

Jungkook sat across from him, leaning against the studio's cushioned bench with his camera resting on his lap. His eyes, dark and full of quiet curiosity, never left Taehyung.

"Are you sure?" Jungkook asked gently.

Taehyung let out a slow breath, nodding. "Yeah."

Music had always been his way of speaking when words failed him. And right now, there were too many emotions tangled inside him—ones he wasn't sure how to name, let alone explain. But he knew how to play. He knew how to translate the things he couldn't say into melodies that carried more meaning than any sentence ever could.

His fingers pressed the first notes, and the room filled with sound.

The melody started soft, hesitant, almost like a whisper. It was a song he had written a long time ago—one he had never shared with anyone. It carried the weight of lonely nights, of quiet longing, of emotions left unspoken. The notes wove together in a bittersweet harmony, rising and falling like the winter wind outside.

Then, he began to sing.

눈의 자장가 (Snow's Lullaby)

눈이 조용히 내려와, 발자국도 없이

(Nuni joyonghi naeryeowa, baljagukdo eopsi)

"The snow falls quietly, leaving no footprints."

어둠 속 그림자, 내 이름을 부르네

(Eodum sok geurimja, nae ireumeul bureune)

"Wandering shadows call out my name."

나는 낮은 멜로디를 흥얼거려

(Naneun najeun mellodireul heungeolgeoryeo)

"I hum a melody low,"

바람이 그걸 집으로 데려가길 바라며

(Barami geugeol jibeuro deryeogagil baramyeo)

"Hoping the wind might carry it home."

밤에게 노래하면 누군가 들을까?

(Bamege noraehamyeon nugunga deureulkka?)

"If I sing to the night, will someone hear?"

너무 조용한 속삭임, 너무 가까운 꿈

(Neomu joyonghan soksagim, neomu gakkaun kkum)

"A whisper too soft, a dream too near."

하늘처럼 내 마음을 열면

(Haneulcheoreom nae maeumeul yeol-myeon)

"If I open my heart like the sky so wide,"

너는 머물러 줄까? 내 곁에 서 있을까?

(Neoneun meomulleo julkka? Nae gyeote seo isseul-kka?)

"Will you stay, will you stand by my side?"

Jungkook stilled. His camera, once steady in his hands, now rested forgotten on his lap. He wasn't just listening—he was absorbing every word.

겨울은 말하지 못한 비밀을 알고 있어

(Gyeoureun malhaji mothan bimireul algo isseo)

"The winter knows secrets I never could say."

멀리 흘러가는 메아리 속에 숨겨둔 채

(Meolli heulleoganeun meari soge sumgyeodun chae)

"Hiding in echoes that drift far away."

하지만 너를 보면 차가운 바람도 멈춰

(Hajiman neoreul bomyeon chagaun baramdo meomchwo)

"But when I see you, the cold fades slow,"

이제야 따뜻함이 뭔지 알 것 같아

(Ijeya ttatteuthami mwonji al geot gata)

"And I wonder if warmth was something I'd know."

Jungkook swallowed, his throat tight. The weight of Taehyung's voice, raw yet tender, filled the small studio. It wasn't just a song. It was a memory, a longing, a secret carried in every note.

밤에게 노래하면 누군가 들을까?

(Bamege noraehamyeon nugunga deureulkka?)

"If I sing to the night, will someone hear?"

잃어버린 속삭임, 하지만 이젠 가까이

(Ireobeorin soksagim, hajiman ijen gakkai)

"A whisper once lost, but now it's near."

하늘처럼 내 마음을 열면

(Haneulcheoreom nae maeumeul yeol-myeon)

"If I open my heart like the sky so wide,"

너는 거기 서 있네… 내 곁에서

(Neoneun geogi seo inne… nae gyeoteseo)

"I see you there… standing by my side."

As the final verse melted into the air, the song lingered, like snowflakes before they touched the earth. The room was silent, but not empty. It was filled with something unspoken yet profoundly felt.

Jungkook finally spoke, his voice softer than usual. "That was…" He trailed off, as if searching for the right word. "Beautiful."

Taehyung exhaled a small chuckle, shaking his head. "You always say that."

"Because it's always true." Jungkook leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "But this time, it was different. More… personal."

Taehyung swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "Maybe because it was."

Jungkook didn't push him to explain. Instead, he tilted his head, studying him in that quiet, perceptive way he always did. "What were you thinking about when you played?"

Taehyung hesitated, fingers brushing against the piano keys absentmindedly. "You ever have a moment where you realize something's changed, but you don't know when it happened?"

Jungkook nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Taehyung met his gaze. "That."

Understanding flickered in Jungkook's expression. He didn't ask for more, didn't press for an explanation Taehyung wasn't quite ready to give. Instead, he reached for his camera, raising it to his eye.

"Stay like that," he murmured.

Taehyung barely had time to react before the shutter clicked.

He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "You're impossible."

Jungkook grinned. "Maybe. But I think this might be my favorite photo yet."

Taehyung arched a brow. "Why?"

Jungkook lowered the camera, meeting his gaze. "Because it's real."

The weight of those words settled between them, unspoken yet undeniable.

For a moment, they simply sat there—two artists in a quiet studio, sharing something neither of them had the words for.

Then Jungkook glanced at the piano. "Play something else?"

Taehyung hesitated, but Jungkook's request wasn't just casual. It was expectant, hopeful. So he nodded.

This time, the melody that filled the room was different. It was softer, lighter, carrying with it a warmth that hadn't been there before.

Jungkook leaned back, letting the music surround him, his camera forgotten at his side.

Taehyung didn't know what was happening between them—didn't know if it even had a name. But for now, this was enough.

And for the first time in a long while, he felt at peace.