̀ूFluff  ̀ू 

You weren’t supposed to be here, and you realized that you really didn’t want to as many memories tinged with sadness began to resurface.

. . .

There was an Arts Night concert today, organized nearly completely by the Arts Council of your school. You weren’t exactly an arts student, but you had signed up anyway as a volunteer to clean up after the event. But because one of your friends was actually a part of the concert, you were here obnoxiously early since you had to catch a ride with them. This also meant you wouldn’t be able to leave anytime soon, considering there would be some sort of after party for the teenagers after the concert was over. You remembered it was at a nearby restaurant.

But because you were here, with virtually nothing to do, you wandered slightly listlessly about the halls. You had never bothered to spend much time in the music hall really, the art of playing music had been lost to you for many years now.

As you continued your walking, looking for a quiet place to stay you stumbled upon a small room with the door slightly ajar. Afternoon light seemed to flow through the opened crack of the door, inviting you inside. When you did step inside, you first took in the may notebooks, books, and papers that littered on various shelves and tables on the edges of the room. In the midst of it all was an ancient looking upright piano.

Without even thinking about it, you gravitated closer and closer towards it. You couldn’t understand your actions, the very thing that caused you tears and suffering sat in front of you, but you couldn’t seem to move away. Perhaps it was the time that had passed. It had been three years now hasn’t it?

However, your movements were practised and smooth as you pulled out the piano bench and sat down. You adjusted the seat’s height and distance, so you were comfortable. Nothing had faded totally it seemed.

You took a steadying breath before flipping open the cover; as you took in the familiar black and white keys, a wave a bittersweet emotion flooded your chest.

Your hand was brought up hesitantly closer to the instrument, a pent-up anxiety seemed to grow as you drew closer to the ivory keys. It wasn’t until your thumb pressed onto the familiar middle C that the invisible tension disappeared.

Hearing the crisp and tuned sound, you felt as you were in a stupor as some previously unknown dam within you was destroyed. Your fingers began once again the memorized movements of long ago.

. . .

Woozi was supposed to be in the theatre. As the co-organizer of the Arts’ Night Concert, there was no shortage of things to take care of, equipment and people alike. But for some odd reason, he couldn’t seem to concentrate onto any tasks at hand, his distraction drove his friend, who also happened to be the co-organizer and director, crazy.

“Did you just tell Concert Band that they were before the clarinet choir? You know they’re the finale!” Sungcheol’s voice had risen to an unheard-of octave.

Woozi rubbed the bridge of his nose, face pinched and frustrated. “I’m sorry alright, I’ll run and tell them I made the mistake, and everything will be fine.”

The older boy shook his head, “Forget it, I’ll take care of that.” His voice softened when he spoke again, “Go take a walk or something, clearly there is something bothering you. You’re not allowed to come back before you figure it out.”

Woozi didn’t know how much he wanted to leave the chaos of the concert behind until Seungcheol brought it up. “Thanks.”

His friend grinned a wide grin. “No problem, I’ll hold down the fort while you do that. Although it would be nice if you came back at least half an hour before the show starts. That gives you…roughly two hours.”

Woozi knew where he wanted to go. There was only one place he would go, the one place he was ensured peace. His room.

It wasn’t technically his of course, it was school property; but he had permission from all members of staff to use it like his own. This didn’t mean that no one could enter, but all those from the arts department knew that if they valued their heads, they would keep away from Woozi’s room.

As he approached his room, a single solitary note rang in the still air. He unconsciously recognized the note as ‘do’ right before he realized that it was his piano. Woozi bolted.

There was so much of him in that room. His thoughts, his inspiration, his character, everything was there. Written through melodies, lyrics, or just randomly scrawled words on the many notepads that lay open everywhere in the room. Panic crawled higher into his throat when he realized that due to the preoccupation the concert caused he hadn’t locked the door like he usually would have done.

Please don’t let it be a student.

It would be best if it was his music teacher or anyone of the faculty, he crossed his fingers that it was just the janitor.

Right when he was about to storm into the room, chewing out the person that dared to invade his haven, something stopped him. His breath stopped, he had just stumbled upon the most heart trending image he had ever seen, it would be a sin to disrupt it.

The golden light that flooded the room washed everything in an amber hue, casting long shadows across the ground. Your figure was wreathed with bright light, practically glowing in Woozi’s eyes. He did not want to you to notice you were no longer alone.

Woozi did not know you, never seen you before, but he seemed to feel as if you were a kindred spirit. The expression on your face was child-like confusion, as if you didn’t know what you were doing, but it was contradicted by the practised ease you sat. Your back was straight, your leg was angled out so the top of your shoe just brushed the tip of the pedal, but most of all, your fingers were arched beautifully from your hands onto the keys. It was perfect position, it wasn’t something that anyone could have, it only existed after many lessons and countless hours’ practise.

You began to play, fingers almost shyly running up the scale. Your left hand still rested on your thigh as your right hand skated across the keys; what began as simply just one octave began to grow to two to three until your left hand joined in. You played the C Major scale on repeat, but Woozi couldn’t look away. Your expression had now morphed into one of pensive concentration. As you played on, your scale became more and more smooth until it began reminiscent of a flowing river.

Woozi knew skill when he saw it. You had played nothing but the simplest of scales, but he could see the hours of practise that went into playing in such a manner. He couldn’t understand why he didn’t know you, as one of the leaders of the arts department, he knew all the students that were good.

And you were beyond just good.

But Woozi was filled with questions, your skill was there but it was clear in the beginning you were unsure and unfamiliar with the movements.

You sighed, a wistful sound that was amplified by the present silence. Your body wilted as your breath left, you seemed totally drained as you sat motionlessly.

“Hey.” Woozi couldn’t let you walk away, nor could he bear to leave.

You started, embarrassment as well as worry filling your eyes as you looked at the boy that stood at the doorway of the room.

You didn’t speak as he walked slowly towards you, his steps were light and subtle before they stopped beside you.

“You play beautifully.”

You felt surprisingly unguarded with this person you did not know. You answered quietly, “What’s the use of beautiful playing when its empty?”

Woozi’s heart felt as if a weight had been placed on it when he heard your words paired with the sardonic twist of your lips as you spoke them.

However, he was never one to leave things like they were so he replied, “I know what emptiness sounds like, and while perhaps your playing was quite hollow, it was not empty.”

A faraway look entered your eyes as you turned away from this mysterious boy that said things that seemed closer to the bulls-eye than you. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I know I’m right.”

A wide smile blossomed on your face as you turned back to Woozi (his heart did not start beating faster, he tried to tell himself), “Well then, I’ll take your word for it.”

A text suddenly buzzed the phone that was in Woozi’s pocket, and to his annoyance he realized that his time was going to be cut short.

“I have to go. I’m actually one of the organizers for the concert.” His voice was rushed as he spoke, “I would love it if you could come and watch, but even if you don’t, you must play for me again.”

You couldn’t even edge a word in before he took your hand and placed a small scrap of metal into it. You couldn’t help but to notice the warmth of his hand as he did so.

“This is the key to this room, keep it safe. If you ever feel like playing and I’m not here, you are more than welcome to come in. But I would very much like it if you would join me here sometime soon.”

In the next second he was gone.

You folded your fingers over the key the boy had given you as some foreign feeling of warmth spread across your chest.

a/n hello~ so this particular one-shot was slightly inspired by my own experiences.. just a little. but i hope that didnt ruin the experience. thanks for reading~