What is classical music if not the epitome of sensuality, passion, and understated a that popular music, even with all of its energy and life, cannot even begin to touch?

-Lara St. John

“He looks so cool just breathing already!”

“He’s not just any musician…he’s a cellist! That’s so rare!”

“Can I swoon now? Someone call the doctor!”

“Every inch of him is perfect. Pinch me, I’m dreaming.”

“Can he play with me the same way he plays his cello?”

The swarm of girls, not to mention their deafening and annoying voices, followed him everywhere he went, and although it was flattering to know how desirable he was, Park Bo Gum – cellist extraordinaire – was not looking for a permanent fanclub. Already they were bordering on stalking; his attempts to stop it were met with even more attention, and there seemed to be no way for him to escape.

Not that he was ever successful. Wherever he was, there was always the group of swooning admirers, never giving him the time of the day. And during classes itself, everyone would want to partner up with him, or give him little gifts, or trying to make conversation with him.

But in music class, everything was forgotten for the music.

As part of the school band, he was just as equal as everyone else; all were required for the song, and he was seen as more of an annoyance everytime he arrived because they had to stop what they were doing due to the loud cheer squad that hung outside, interrupting their peace.

The thing about it was, they blamed him for it. As if he was in control of it! He couldn’t help being one of the college’s most desirable young men, even more than he could control his love for his cello.

But they obviously couldn’t notice this simple fact. Especially that violinist. The one who always insulted him, although he never failed to return one back in kind. Kim Ji Won, leader of the band and loved by all the teachers and band members for her skill, friendliness and quick wit.

But when it came to him, they were the band’s cat and dog, making the other members of the band spectators to a mini war everytime they came to practice. There never was a time they were not throwing subtle comments at each other, especially when the other missed a note or didn’t get something right, or just when the other was feeling extra sadstic.

The only reason he still wanted to be part of the band was, in his own opinion, because he had nowhere else to go. His only talent was to look good and to play the cello with a skill that cemented his desirability, his fingers holding the thick strings and carving out a thrum that resonated with the audience’s soul. Plus, his parents never understood why he wanted to pursue something as mediocre as music when he could be a businessman, or a doctor. They simply couldn’t get his love for music, and shunned him for it.

Also, even if he didn’t like to admit it, Ji Won, who hated him, was one talented musician. She was always accompanying the other members with her instrument, helping them be more confident when they played, and also, she was probably one of the few people he knew who had a sort of natural talent about her; she always knew how to recreate a sound on her violin, no matter the original instrument.

Just yesterday, she practiced with one of their pianists and it was absolutely pleasant to hear, if he could say so himself. But when the others clapped, he kept his lips pursed and his hands to himself. Skilled or not, she was the same person who said yesterday that he was an arrogant musician with absolutely no emotional intelligence whatsoever. So why would he even bother, if she were to smile at everyone and reserve a glare of annoyance for him?

As he dashed into the music room today in the early morning, he noticed it was empty save her and another member, whom he recognized as Taehyung, the saxophone genius and resident moodmaker who always smelled of coffee. No wonder he was always muttering about mole elephants or trying to spit some hardcore rap he couldn’t even remember. Too much caffeine in his system.

They didn’t notice him as he entered, probably because she was practicing again.

It was a famous piece, Tchaikovsky’s Black Swan Pas de Deux, which made him pause at the door as he listened to her play.

She drew her bow slowly and deliberately across the neck of the violin, dragging out a high vibrato note as she played, her eyes closed as she swayed in a dreamlike trance, before moving her fingers in a fluid motion over the strings as she lowered the melody note by note. Her hands were long and spindly, he noted, much like his own. It was a sign that she had been playing for more than a decade, and it made the two of them similar in that respect. While everyone else was known for entering the band for leisure, learning as soon as they joined or a couple of years before, he and Ji Won were professionals, and that was probably the main reason he even bothered to rebut her flippant remarks against him.

Like Taehyung, who was seated with a blank expression on his face, Bo Gum felt the music reach for his soul, turning his insides as he immersed himself in the music. He didn’t realize, when she maintained the highest note, that he was holding his breath.

And when Taehyung clapped for her as she bowed, he pretended that he hadn’t just stood at the door for a whole minute watching her.

He went to his chair, placing the cello case with a loud thump while the both of them glanced over at him, before completely ignoring his existence as they conversed about her playing at a wedding this weekend.

Fine. He was used to being the loner anyway.

***

This couldn’t be happening.

Bo Gum placed his hands over his face for the millionth time.

Remember when he had heard Taehyung asking her about the wedding she was playing? Apparently it was his brother’s wedding that she was paid to play in, at the grounds of his father’s mansion. What were the odds?

He had been pretending not to know she was there, but it was too obvious she was. Meanwhile, she had taken to completely forget he was there, instead mingling with the other contracted musicians as they tuned their instruments.

He turned to his father. “Why did you even ask her to come and play?” he muttered, “I thought you said band was a waste of my time.”

The elder Park humphed. “She is the only one who stood out in your band performance last month. Why should I deny a musical genius when she’s obviously skilled?” he replied, “And it’s good for her resume when she applies to music school later on.”

“Well, why didn’t you let me play, then? You yourself said it was no use for a musician to have music classes and not perform.”

His father snorted. “What musician plays at his family’s own party?”

“At least I’ll have something to do,” he muttered, and rolled his eyes. He stole a glance at her again.

She looked different from when she wore her school uniform. He almost never met up with any of his classmates outside school, and she was the first. Her hair was elaborately styled, the hair at her crown braided and interlaced with pale pink flowers, and the lower half of her hair was curled over her shoulders and back. It was a stark contrast to the tight buns she wore to school which made her look more uptight than she really was. She wore a pastel dress, not bright enough to attract attention, but not invisible enough either.

She was everything he could see and yet, he was everything she didn’t.

He sat lower in his seat as they began to play the background music, and he watched sullenly as his brother danced with his new wife.

Bo Gum shut his eyes, recognizing her violin straightaway. He felt like he was reaching out for it through the layers of other instruments, holding it close as he focused on it. It had a delicate aura about it, but there was enough strength that maintained throughout the whole time she played.

When he opened his eyes, he sought her out, and saw her looking right at him.

Their eyes widened of their own accord, and both looked away.

He loosened his dress shirt, ing the top a little, suddenly feeling a little flustered.

***

During the intermission where people began giving speeches, he felt suffocated and watched the musicians go over to the banquet table to grab a snack. He saw her lone figure, absentmindedly drinking from her champagne flute as she watched his brother tearily read a note to his wife. She watched with a thoughtful expression on her face, and he decided that, if he were to talk to her, it might as well be now before she went back to the stage to play once more.

He slipped behind guests, manouvred around tables, appearing behind her. He took her hand, and she jumped in surprise, turning behind only to see it was him. Her expression darkened significantly, and she tried to pull away, but he held firm and tugged her with him as they left the garden party.

She stumbled after him. “Yah, Park Bo Gum,” she muttered, but he didn’t stop. “Yah, let me go!”

Having known his way around the grounds, he pulled her with him into one of the garden mazes, satisfied when she began to sound a little afraid.

“Where are you taking me?” she cried. Then, in a firmer tone, “If you don’t let me go, I’ll scream.”

He looked back. “Yeah? And who’s gonna hear you from the tent, with all that clapping and music?”

She was rendered speechless, and she looked down at the glass in her free hand. “Then I’ll pour this over your shirt,” she threatened, “One…Two…”

Bo Gum took her glass and tossed it to the grass as she stared at him in shock. “Did you just-“ she began.

“Yeah, I did,” he cut her off.

She looked at him in disgust. “Are you that rich that you’d throw away good champagne just to stop me?” she scoffed, “And you're that afraid for your shirt? Why?” she gave him a challenging look, “-aren’t you rich enough to pay the dry cleaners?”

He didn’t answer, only staring at her face as he took a step closer, and she backed into a hedge wall. “Stay back,” she hissed.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Why do you hate me so much?” he asked her in desperation.

She let out an unforgiving laugh. “Hate you? Why would I hate you?” she scoffed, “You think you’re better than everyone else, you don’t want to make friends, you call people by their instruments instead of their names…oh, sure, that doesn’t give a cause for dislike.”

“Ji Won,” he interrupted, “Your name is Ji Won. Saxophone is Taehyung. Guitar is Chanyeol. French horn is-“

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Whatever. So, what, you’re going to tell me everyone’s names now?”

“Well, if you want me to-“

She exhaled in frustration. “What do you want from me, Bo Gum?” she asked, “Can’t you leave me alone and not get on my case for one day? Just one day, to leave me be?”

He shook his head, stepping back a bit to run his hands through his hair. “I can’t…” he began, letting out a haggard breath. In a barely controlled voice he made out what he had been keeping in his heart all along. “I can’t get your music…you…out of my head!”

He looked at her, seeing a bit of concern in her eyes, and he felt maybe he was in his manic moods again. “I hear your violin playing over and over, every single time I go to sleep. I hear your voice everytime someone speaks. I see you everywhere I go, and I. Just. Can’t. Get. You. Out. Of. My. Mind.”

His head snapped up, and strands of hair fell over from his perfectly gelled parting, falling over his eyes. “Look at me,” he said in a softer, almost pleading voice, as he reached out to hold onto her shoulders. “Tell me I’m insane and this will all go away.”

She opened to speak. “Look…maybe you had too much wine,” she said, haltingly.

“No,” he said with a mad laugh, shaking his head, “I didn’t even touch the wine. I tried, I’ve been trying to get your music out of my head but I can’t…I can’t do it. Being drunk makes me remember even more.”

She reached out for his arm. “Maybe we should get someone to help-“ she said anxiously.

He turned towards her, taking her slender form into his arms as he tried to mask the tears on his face. She gasped, her hands on his chest as she tried to resist, but he held on nonetheless, letting out a sob that he couldn't swallow. She stopped.

"What's wrong?" she asked him, "Yah, Park Bo Gum! Did something happen?"

She sounded worried, genuinely worried this time.

“Please,” he whispered against her neck, feeling her soft hair against his cheek. “Stay awhile. At least until the intermission ends. I…I need you right now.”

He could feel her hand patting his back awkwardly. “It’s okay,” she murmured, soft and comforting, just as she reassured the others when they did a mistake, “Its’s okay.”

***

It was definitely awkward the next time they saw each other.

His hands kept slipping on his strings, making mistakes that changed the bass of their rehearsal for the school’s anniversary this Friday.

Their conductor sighed. “Mr. Park, a little more concentration, if you please,” he murmured as the other members grumbled, “Just keep yourself together till the end.”

Bo Gum shut his eyes in silent embarrassment. He could easily outperform everyone in this room, but now he was the one screwing up rehearsal.

“We don’t need a cello anyway,” Flute muttered.

Suddenly, Ji Won turned. “Don’t you ever dare say something like that,” she said fiercely, “You don’t know if he’s going through something. Cut him some slack.”

They looked away from him, staring at their leader in surprise.

“Why are you taking his side?”

 “I thought you guys don’t like each other!”

 “He doesn’t even care for band. He’s only here to show off.”

The remarks caught him off guard, making him slink lower into his seat as Ji Won told everyone to shut up. She walked to him.

“Yah, Park Bo Gum,” she said, and he peered up at her. “You’ve never messed up before, and you better not do it now. Forget everything and just play the music.”

He nodded, looking away from her. So essentially, she was telling him to forget her? After how he had confessed? Was he supposed to just, what, put his feelings for her away like keeping an antique, never to be used again?

He watched her resume her seat, not meeting his desperate attempt at trying to catch her eye. She picked up her violin and carried on as if they had never stopped.

When their practice ended, she stayed back, playing her the pas de deux again. Her back was to him, and he couldn’t find it in his heart to return home, even if it was getting dark.

“You should go home,” she said softly, her head turning to the side.

He didn’t get up from his seat, mesmerized by her playing. “I don’t feel like it,” he whispered, staring vacantly at his bow. Then, he too began to play along with her, meeting her high melodies with his deep undertones.

She turned, watching him as he moved his own bow across the strings, and he met her gaze with a small smile. He had practiced for hours and hours for this, just to see that expression of surprise and awe again. The song had been in his head since she first played it, and he couldn’t not stop thinking about it.

Ji Won walked closer, playing faster, and faster, reaching that high note while he paused, letting her solo ring through the room, and they both stared at each other, sharing a smile that seemed, in that moment, enough for a conversation with their hands. She sat in the chair next to him, her hands moving smoothly over the strings.

When they finished, they merely sat there, looking at each other, their hearts inexplicably as entangled as their instrumetal had been just seconds before. There was a kind of mutual understanding between them, if they both didn’t say it out, and he just felt a need to let her know, in his own way, what she and her music meant to him. He was visibly breathless, wondering to himself why he had not seen this - this feeling of inspiration and infatuation with his supposed opponent - coming. His fingers trembled as they reached for hers, holding them like his life depended on it.

She looked down. “Well,” she said, sounding quite breathless herself, as she shurgged, “I suppose we’re not enemies any longer then.”

Tchaikovsky's Black Swan Pas de Deux has always been my favorite Swan Lake piece, and I was listening to this extensively, watching dancers perform in their element. I must say, they are incredibly talented to be able to dance the way they do, with those en pointe moves and spins and twirls that make it look as easy as pie.

To be honest, I don't even know why this came up all of a sudden. It's so random lol.

I'm currently watching Cantabile Tomorrow and loving each episode. Hence why Park Bo Gum is here instead of an idol member, because I'm having second lead syndrome again. *sighs* I suppose I never healed since my first drama. Second leads always have the most heartbreaking smiles. *brb cries a river*