It was quiet. It was too quiet. Wonwoo stood at the verge of a quaint cobblestone house on a quiet suburban street. No sweet string melodies filtered through the air. No muffled footsteps trod from beyond the door. The only sounds he heard were the cold jangling of rusted keys and the too-loud pulse of his blood as it clawed through his veins.

The house looked the same now as it always had for the past eight years. He stepped inside, only to be arrested by the photos lining the walls. Smiling faces frozen in still-life. Wonwoo didn’t want to look at them, but he was powerless to stop himself.

Just think of the music.

 

 

---

 

 

Summer, 2007

 

Wonwoo tried not to scowl as he watched his mom’s blue sedan drive away. If he’d had his way, he’d be happily cooped up in his room, trying out his brand new copy of God of War. He bought it using his own money; his dad said it was too violent for a third grader.

He wasn’t having his way, though. His mom had spent the first week of vacation nagging him about picking up a class, a hobby, anything other than just sitting around at home for two months. He promised her he’d take a look and see if anything piqued his interest. In his defense, he did try to look. He spent one summer afternoon walking through the busy parts of town, looking through flyers and seeing what all the other kids were up to. It wasn’t his fault everything looked so boring.

He told his mom as much during dinner that night. Big mistake - he thought it would get her off his back, but it made her decide to take matters into her own hands. Now Wonwoo found himself standing on the sidewalk, in front of some stranger’s house, trying not to throw a tantrum in the streets.

“Wonwoo, stop being so impertinent. It’ll be good for you! Playing instruments teaches you discipline.”

Wonwoo sighed. Up until he got out of the car, his mom had been trying to convince him that piano lessons for the entire vacation was a great idea. He personally thought it was a nightmare.

He turned around, resigning himself to a summer of not playing video games. Wonwoo took in the quaint cobblestone house of Mrs. Kim, who was going to be his teacher. He’d never met her, but she’d apparently been his mother’s piano teacher back in the day. Wonwoo didn’t even know his mom played the piano.

Wonwoo approached the house carefully and paused on the porch before ringing the bell. His mother had spent a bit of time fixing him up before they left the house. His hair was swept back neatly and his crisp white shirt was tucked into his dark shorts. He had to stand on his toes to reach the bell, but he was thankfully taller than other boys his age and was able to reach it at all. He heard footsteps behind the door, and soon he could hear the tell-tale clicking of the locks being undone. He stood straight, just like his parents always told him to do. He was practicing his greeting for Mrs. Kim when the door swung forcefully, hitting him square on the head and knocking him off his feet.

“Oh! Sorry, didn’t realize you were standing so close to the door!”

Wonwoo wasn’t sure if he yelped before he fell on to the porch. Both his head and bottom were aching, and he didn’t appreciate his attacker’s loud string of apologies and explanations. Wonwoo blinked the pain away for a few seconds, before swinging his head up to shoot a glare. The sudden movement made his head throb. His mom would throw a fit if it ended up bruising. He saw his attacker: a boy with messy dark hair, eyes wide and still mumbling excuses that Wonwoo couldn’t be bothered to understand.

Wonwoo squinted at him and that seemed to give the boy pause. The boy looked about Wonwoo’s age. His plain pink shirt and loose linen pants made him look lanky. He was tall, though Wonwoo wasn’t sure if that was just because Wonwoo was still on the ground. The boy’s mouth was slightly agape, showing hints of unusually sharp canines on each side.

The boy recovered, and he offered Wonwoo a shy, toothy smile.

“Sorry I hit you,” he said as he reached out his hand to Wonwoo. Wonwoo let his gaze move from the boy’s face to the extended hand, looking at it apprehensively. A voice called out from further inside the house.

“Mingyu, darling, what’s taking so long?”

An elderly lady had appeared behind the boy - Mingyu, she had called him - and her eyes widened when she saw Wonwoo. Before she could say anything, Wonwoo hurriedly took Mingyu’s hand and stood back up, positioning himself away from the boy and the lady.

“Good morning, Mrs. Kim. My name is Jeon Wonwoo, and my mother signed me up for lessons.” Wonwoo gave a polite bow, and when he looked back up, he saw the old lady’s face go through a few emotions - confusion, concern, understanding - before she smiled. She put her hand on Mingyu’s shoulder before letting out a chuckle.

“My, my, it’s nice to meet you Wonwoo. I’m Mrs. Kim. Your mother and I talked on the phone. This is my grandson Mingyu, I hope he hasn’t caused you too much trouble already.”

“H-hey, I didn’t do anything, and I already said I was so-”

“I’m sure you didn’t, dear,” she said, smiling sweetly at her grandson, “could you go ahead inside and prepare some tea?”

Wonwoo watched Mingyu’s face. He looked like he wanted to say something or apologize again, but he seemed to decide against it at the last second. Mingyu went back inside with a pout. Wonwoo looked at Mrs. Kim, and found she was already looking at him, smiling warmly.

“Let’s come inside and get settled, then?”

 

 

 

The house was as quaint on the inside as was hinted by its outward appearance. Darkwood floors creaked with age under where he sat at the dining table. The walls were littered with pictures. Pictures of what must have been Mrs. Kim at different ages, sitting at different pianos in different concert halls. Pictures of her and her family at different events. There were even a few pictures of Mingyu, although in those pictures, he was only ever with Mrs. Kim and none of their other family members.

“Hope you like earl grey!”

He’s too loud, Wonwoo thought, my parents would have a fit if I walked around shouting like that.

Wonwoo looked at the boy briefly. Mingyu seemed like he was just managing not to drop the entire tea set on the floor. His expression was carefree as he put the tray down and took the seat next to Wonwoo.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry again about a while ago.”

Wonwoo turned away from him as he gave a small nod.

“My name’s Mingyu! I’m new around here.”

Something about his cheeriness was rubbing Wonwoo the wrong way. He hoped ignoring Mingyu would be enough to make him go away.

“Hey, why aren’t you saying anything?”

Silence.

“Hey...are you still mad about the door?”

It was only ten in the morning and Wonwoo felt like he had sighed too many times already.

“Hey, if this is about hitting you, I already apologized so many -”

“It’s fine,” Wonwoo finally answered, voice coming out louder than he intended. He took a breath before turning to Mingyu, only to be met with trembling lips and a crestfallen expression. Mingyu was about to cry.

Wonwoo counted to three. “It’s okay, Mingyu. I’m alright, okay?”

“Okay,” Mingyu said, even as he tried to hide a hiccup, “I’m okay too.” His shaky smile did little to assure Wonwoo.

Wonwoo gave Mingyu a few moments to get himself together again, busying himself by surveying the photos scattered about the dining room. He wasn’t sure that Mingyu was the type to mind if Wonwoo watched him sort himself out, but it’s what Wonwoo would have wanted had the positions been reversed.

“You’re...Wonwo?” Mingyu said after a minute or so.

Wonwoo gave the boy what his mother always described as a withering look. At least, it was withering for only a second before he schooled his expression to something a little less hostile. It’s not that Wonwoo intended to antagonize Mingyu; he just seemed like a lot of work to talk to, and Wonwoo wasn’t particularly keen on exerting the effort to make friends. That said, with Mingyu maybe being a crybaby, it could be even more trouble down the line if Wonwoo ignored him again.

“My name’s Wonwoo,” he said, trying to smile. It must have worked since the boy perked up almost immediately.

“And my name’s Mingyu, nice to meet you!”

“You already told me your name.”

“Yeah, but it’s always nice to properly get introduced, right? Anyway, how old are you? Where do you go to school? Is your house far away from here? I haven’t had the chance to explore too much of the town but -”

Wonwoo was saved from the barrage of questions by Mrs. Kim, who emerged from the kitchen with a plate of fresh biscuits.

“Slow down, boy,” she interrupted Mingyu, smiling as she set the plates down and poured three cups of tea, “Wonwoo’ll be here quite a bit this summer. I’m sure you’ll have a chance to ask all your questions. Will you let me speak with him now?”

Wonwoo wasn’t sure, but he could swear Mingyu glowed at the prospect of seeing him a lot over the summer. Wonwoo couldn’t relate, but at least someone would end up happy from this entire ordeal. Mingyu seemed content to ask his questions later on as he happily reached for the biscuits and started munching. Wonwoo reached for one of the steaming cups.

“So,” Mrs. Kim started, “I’ve already talked to your mother about your schedule, and we’ve agreed that you’ll be taking lessons here thrice a week, one hour per day. You’re free to come over and use our piano to practice outside of that, of course, so long as your parents know that you’ve come over and you inform me beforehand.”

She paused, and Wonwoo realized she was waiting for him to respond. He nodded, not quite knowing what the point was. His mother had already agreed for him. It wasn’t as if there was anything he could do.

“I also wanted to ask,” she lowered her voice and leaned down to meet his eyes, “why do you want to learn to play the piano?”

“I don’t.”

His answer was plain and honest. Mrs. Kim didn’t look too surprised. The same couldn’t be said for Mingyu, who had paused mid-chew to gape at Wonwoo.

“What!? But the piano is amazing!” Mingyu grabbed onto Wonwoo’s shoulders, getting crumbs all over his shirt. Wonwoo failed to hide his grimace. “I’m learning to play it too, but it’s so hard, but if you listen to grandma play, she’s really - “

Mingyu couldn’t seem to find the word he was looking, opting instead for a dramatic sigh as he let go and melted back into his chair. Mrs. Kim shook her head, chuckling at her grandson’s antics.

“I expected as much, but still, I hope you keep an open mind. You never know, you might fall in love.”

 

 

At eleven years old, Wonwoo didn’t know much about falling in love. He didn’t think it involved quite as much back ache and hand fatigue as his first hour in front of the piano had, though.

The lesson wasn’t as bad as he feared, even though he did feel a bit nervous as he approached the gigantic grand piano that sat in the Kim’s sitting room. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was, for the most part, mundane. Mrs. Kim spent some time running him through the proper hand position - lift your wrists a bit, darling - before going through how to read music off the sheet.

Wonwoo would even say it was almost fun. There was a logic to the musical scores, and it just clicked for Wonwoo. Even as Mrs. Kim showed him systems and systems of scales and exercises for him to run through, it became something of a game for Wonwoo. It was simple: read what was on the paper, press the right buttons. It was no God of War, for sure, but it had its own charm.

Mingyu sat in the room with them, after Wonwoo had said he didn’t mind Mingyu watching his lessons. He spent the first few minutes pouting, probably still taking to heart Wonwoo’s disinterest in the piano, before perking up once Wonwoo started actually playing the instrument.

The session ended when the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of Wonwoo’s mom. Mrs. Kim left the sitting room to meet her, telling the boys to behave while she discussed some things with Wonwoo’s mother. Wonwoo relaxed his posture on the bench, and turned toward the only other person in the room. Mingyu was already looking at him, with something like awe on his face.

“W-wonwoo...how did you do that?”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, unsure how to respond.

“You just played those scales like it was nothing!”

Mingyu’s admiration made something warm bubble in Wonwoo’s chest.

“They’re just scales,” Wonwoo replied, choosing to look down at his lap since he wasn’t sure what to do with how Mingyu was looking at him.

“No! Well, yes, they’re scales, but - “ Mingyu narrowed his eyes, “are you sure you’ve never played before?”

The questions startled Wonwoo out of his momentary shyness, and he leveled Mingyu with an affronted look.

“Why would I lie about that?”

“I dunno, but you read all that music too well! My fingers never move the way yours do...how could you not want to learn the piano?”

Wonwoo wouldn’t admit it, but he was preening at the attention and praise. He looked back down at his tired hands resting on his lap. He smiled.

Mrs. Kim returned to the sitting room, followed by Wonwoo’s mom. Wonwoo offered her his small smile, and he could see the relief in her shoulders that he wasn’t completely upset with the lessons. Wonwoo gave Mrs. Kim and Mingyu a polite nod as they left, his mom assuring them that he’d be back for the next lesson.

His mom didn’t ask any questions as they made their way back home, which Wonwoo appreciated - interacting with Mingyu was plenty tiring for him as it was. Still, Wonwoo didn’t hate the lesson. He might even be looking forward to playing again.

 

Maybe piano lessons aren’t such a bad idea after all.

 

---

 

 

Mrs. Kim seemed to notice the same things Mingyu had during their first session. She went through the material at a quicker pace in their next lessons, and Wonwoo found he actually preferred it. He was able to follow, and the sooner he was able to digest the basics, the sooner he’d be able to read and play more difficult and complex music.

Mingyu and Wonwoo hadn’t talked much after that first session, though it wasn’t from lack of trying from Mingyu’s end. Wonwoo would simply offer the occasional nod and shrug, just enough to not be too rude, but he didn’t do much to hide his overall disinterest in being too friendly. Mingyu persisted though, asking him questions about how far he lived (“a ten-minute drive from here, Mingyu.”) and how old he was (“Ha!? That means you’re my hyung? But you’re shorter than me!”).

Mingyu, much to Wonwoo’s frustration, didn’t get the hint. As things were, Wonwoo didn’t hate the piano lessons, but if he were being honest, it was still a close thing, and Mingyu’s energy was sometimes too much for Wonwoo, and there wasn’t really anything he could do to deal with it.

Except, there was one thing he could do.

In each of their lessons, Mingyu would be there, always seated on one of the light blue couches in the room. He watched Wonwoo with intense focus, as if Wonwoo held all the secrets to playing the piano. Wonwoo didn’t mind the staring; it turned out that Wonwoo playing served as a good distraction for Mingyu, effectively shutting him up for as long as Wonwoo was playing. If it weren’t for him being quiet whenever Wonwoo played and the heaps of praise he’d always have for Wonwoo at the end of every lesson, Wonwoo was sure he would have hated the boy’s loud demeanor by the third lesson at best.

It was a few weeks before the end-of-summer recital when Mrs. Kim excused herself early into their session to take a call.

 

Rubato.

Ru - ba - to.

Wonwoo looked maliciously at the white sheet resting against the piano, something by some guy named Bartók. The word - rubato - mocked him.

He was in the sitting room, alone with Mingyu, trying to figure out how to play the piece the way Mrs. Kim wanted him to. She assigned him the piece, telling him that while he was good, he was “dreadfully rigid.” Rubato apparently meant the tempo was meant to be flexible, but unlike everything else music so far, that just didn’t agree with Wonwoo. What was the point of indicating a tempo if the pianist could do whatever he wanted? Music needed to have structure. It needed to have rules.

He tried again. And again. And again. Each time, he’d hear Mrs. Kim’s stern (but always kind) reminder that he needed to be more flexible. That he was being too precise. His frustration bubbled to the surface, and Wonwoo banged out an abrupt, dissonant chord.

There was a yelp behind him. He squeezed his eyes, angling his body away from the piano and toward the only other person in the room.

“Hey, hey...hyung?”

Wonwoo counted his breaths. He reached five before he felt himself calm down enough to open his eyes. Mingyu was gaping at him, concern (and maybe a bit of apprehension) clear on his face.

“Hyung?”

“Do you wanna go hang out outside for a while?”

Mingyu nodded wordlessly, content to follow Wonwoo as he just barely kept himself from stomping through the door to the Kim’s back garden. It was late August already, the sweltering heat of summer giving way to light drizzles every now and again. Wonwoo sent a soft prayer of thanks that the weather was clear. The last thing he needed was muddy shoes.

He sat himself at the edge of the stone patio that led to the verdant grass of Mrs. Kim’s garden. Her orchids had grown a bit, but they probably had a few weeks before their buds blossomed in earnest. Mrs. Kim probably wouldn’t scold him for taking a break. He already knew all his notes, and he could play them perfectly. It was just his luck that perfect apparently wasn’t what he needed to do.

He huffed as Mingyu settled a few inches beside him.

“I just don’t get it. I can’t play it the way she wants me to.”

Mingyu was silent, fingers idly reaching and pulling at the grass under their feet. After a beat, Wonwoo heard Mingyu scuffling closer to him.

“Hey, hey, hyung...do you wanna know a secret?”

Wonwoo turned to Mingyu’s soft voice, only to find the boy much closer than he expected. He recoiled, leaning into his arms as he leaned away from Mingyu.

“What are you -”

“I bombed my oboe recital last year.” Mingyu settled back in his space, looking away from Wonwoo and back toward the garden as he fidgeted with his right earlobe. Wonwoo slowly gathered himself and sat properly, this time leaving a healthy foot’s distance between the two of them.

“I didn’t know you played oboe.”

“You should be glad - I was pretty bad.” Mingyu’s chuckle was self-deprecating. “The year before that, I had a ukulele string snap during a performance.”

Wonwoo felt his eye twitch, but didn’t look at Mingyu. The other slumped his shoulders and started grabbing intently at grass lumps before hurling them further into the garden.

“Stop that. Your grandma’ll be mad that you ruined her garden.”

“Piano’s maybe the...fourth? It’s the fourth instrument I’ve tried. All the other ones before have been busts.”

Wonwoo paused to consider this. If it had been him in Mingyu’s shoes, one bad experience with any instrument would probably have been enough to put him off music completely. He’d have raised his hands in defeat, admitted that music wasn’t for him, and went back home to play video games.

Mingyu turned to him. There was a determination in his eyes that Wonwoo didn’t know what to do with.

“Do you get what I’m tryna say?”

Wonwoo’s expression must have conveyed his confusion. Mingyu sat a little straighter before continuing.

“I think it’s okay if you don’t get it. There are gonna be things that just aren’t for you, you know? But you should keep looking for things that are, and then you do those things.”

“Have you found something for you, Mingyu?” Wonwoo was only half serious as he asked.

He walked in on Mingyu practicing the piano a week before, and that had ended with Mingyu spluttering useless excuses and running to his room before Wonwoo could even get a word in. He didn’t want to be mean, and Mingyu wasn’t even that bad, but the way he played was so awkward and he got so flustered every time his left hand had to move. Whatever Mingyu was looking for, Wonwoo was quite sure the piano wasn’t it.

Mingyu placed his hand on his chin, considering Wonwoo’s question sagely before flashing Wonwoo a roguish smile.

“I don’t think the piano and I’ll have a long relationship, but that won’t stop me from trying something else. Whaddaya think for next year - trumpet? Cello?”

“Aren’t you too short for the cello?”

“Hey, I’m taller than you!”

“Boys, play nice.”

Wonwoo and Mingyu turned to see Mrs. Kim peeking down at them from the threshold of the house. She was looking at them warmly, a sparkle in her gaze. She turned her attention to Mingyu.

“Mingyu, I just got off the phone with your father. He said he’ll be home for a week starting tonight.”

The smile that bloomed on Mingyu’s face was blinding. He jumped up excitedly, almost clocking Wonwoo in the face with his hands.

“Wonwoo, dear, I’m going to pick my son-in-law up from the airport, so we have to move our session to a different day. I’ll call your mom as well, but would you mind staying here with Mingyu for a bit?”

Wonwoo was looking at Mingyu, who looked like he was bursting from the seams and was transfixed. He barely registered what Mrs. Kim was saying before he offered her a small nod and greeted her farewell as she left.

“Dad’s coming!”

Mingyu crouched behind Wonwoo, his hands shaking Wonwoo’s shoulders eagerly. Mingyu’s happiness was infectious, and Wonwoo smiled despite himself.

Mingyu returned to his spot next to Wonwoo, and tried to settle himself as he sat. He was still vibrating, and although Wonwoo would usually find it irritating, seeing Mingyu like that made something warm settle in his chest instead.

 

Mingyu spent the next half hour regaling Wonwoo with stories about his dad, and Wonwoo found himself learning more about Mingyu than he expected. What he expected even less was that he didn’t particularly mind.

His dad was a pilot, and they used to live in Busan so that they could be close to the airport. The airline his dad worked in got acquired by some Japanese conglomerate, and a few weeks ago, his dad got deployed to a new home airport in Japan. Mingyu wouldn’t have had anyone to take care of him if he moved to Japan with his dad - his mom died shortly after he was born. So, he moved to Changwon with his grandmother instead while his dad flew abroad.

Wonwoo listened as Mingyu spoke, trying his best to commit every detail to memory, from his animated expressions to his goofy smile that showcased his canines. He felt like every word Mingyu uttered was a brick being laid as a foundation for something they were building together. He found himself clinging to every word, hungrily devouring what Mingyu was willing to share.

In too little time, the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of Wonwoo’s mom and the end of his afternoon with Mingyu. He almost felt disappointed as he left. Just almost. The sight of Mingyu waving at him vigorously along with the promise of at least a few more weeks with the Kims was a reassurance he didn’t know he needed.

 

---

 

 

Wonwoo's hands were clammy as he sat, stiff as a rod. His tie felt too tight the way it curled around his neck like a noose. None of the other kids were even wearing ties, but his mom had forced it on him that morning, insisting that he needed to look proper for his first performance.

“Just think of what all the other parents will think when they see my son looking so sharp!”

Wonwoo grimaced at the half-dozen chairs in the backstage area, now mostly abandoned. Only Mingyu (and Jihoon, as he waited for his turn at the wings of the stage) remained with him. Seokmin was already on, and Wonwoo could hear the boy plough through Arabesque much faster than he intended. He briefly entertained himself by imagining the look of distress that must have been clear as day on Seokmin's face as he played. Wonwoo was sure he'd make it through, nonetheless.

It was Wonwoo that Wonwoo wasn’t so sure of.

He couldn’t even decide what the worst part was. Was he scared because he was about to play in public for the first time? Was he anxious because he was going to play after Jihoon, who was, according to Mingyu, the "next big thing"?

A big part of him felt like he should be annoyed that he even cared so much. Worst case scenario if he screwed up was that his mom would have a tight expression the entire car ride home, as if Wonwoo embarrassed her on purpose. Her expression was always a bit sour, anyway. He could live with that. This was just a silly piano recital. None of this was worth the stress.

"Hey, Wonwoo."

Wonwoo took a deep breath and focused on keeping himself together.

"Hey, hey, Wonwoo-hyung," Mingyu sing-songed.

Wonwoo really didn't need this.

"Hey hyung, are you scared?"

Mingyu sounded genuinely concerned, but Wonwoo tried not to think about that. He closed his eyes before shaking his head gently.

Mingyu hummed. "Then why are your hands shaking?"

Wonwoo clenched his eyes tighter. "Mingyu, what are you talking about I'm not -"

Wonwoo's eyes shot open when he felt bigger, warmer hands enveloping his. He looked and saw that his fingers were trembling, though Mingyu’s steady hands helped keep it from being too noticeable.

"Hyung," Wonwoo didn't even know Mingyu could speak this soft, "are you nervous?"

Wonwoo was nervous. Wonwoo was scared, anxious, frustrated, and one hundred other things. He didn't know how to let Mingyu know that. He didn’t know if he even wanted Mingyu to know that.

"Hyung, you can tell me if you're scared."

Wonwoo opened his mouth once, then again, taking several tries before he could find his voice.

"I...I don't know why I'm scared."

Mingyu gave Wonwoo’s hands a gentle squeeze. The gesture reassured him more than he expected, and it gave him the push to keep talking.

"It's just a stupid recital on the stupid piano. I don't know why I'm getting so worked up."

Wonwoo felt silly after saying it out loud. He tried to pull away, but Mingyu's grip on his hands just tightened. Wonwoo looked up, intending to tell Mingyu off for clinging, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw the boy's face. Mingyu was giving him such a warm and kind smile, and it was unlike anything Wonwoo had seen before. It made him feel unlike he had ever felt before

"Hyung, what do you think about when you play?"

"Nothing?"

Wonwoo didn't know what answer Mingyu was expecting, but Mingyu’s raised eyebrow told him that wasn't a good answer.

"Come on, hyung, no need to act cool-"

"I'm serious." Wonwoo couldn't keep the hint of anger out of his voice as he jerked away. Wonwoo didn't know what Mingyu was going on about. Wonwoo acting cool? He was being honest - he didn't really think of anything when he played. Mingyu wasn’t taking him seriously, and it rubbed Wonwoo the wrong way.

Mingyu had been surprised by Wonwoo’s reaction, and a few tense moments passed in silence.

Muffled applause from the main stage area broke the spell. Jihoon must have just gotten on. Wonwoo needed to get himself together and wait near the stage for his -

"Hyung, wait."

Mingyu's voice pulled him from his momentary daze. He didn't even realize he'd already stood up and was halfway to the standby area. Mingyu's eyes on him were marred by a mix of remorse and care.

"Hyung, please wait."

Wonwoo swallowed, waiting a second before nodding slowly and slowing to a halt, just a few paces away from the opening that wed to the stage. Mingyu stood from his chair and approached him carefully.

A few blinks was all it took for Mingyu to cross the distance Wonwoo had put between them.

“I was just surprised,” Mingyu said, “when you said you don’t think of anything when you play.”

Wonwoo nodded noncommittally, hoping Mingyu would just get on with what he had to say.

“I...I think of grandma when I play. And she always told me that everyone has a different image in their head when they make music. Some people think of those they love. Some people like Seokmin probably think of horror movies when they play.”

That got a laugh out of Wonwoo. Mingyu’s face brightened, and it seemed to drive him to keep going.

“If you don’t really think about anything when you play, maybe that’s just okay? Just think about the music you’re playing, and everything will turn out right?”

Mingyu was smiling at Wonwoo hesitantly, and Wonwoo would swear the tips of Mingyu’s ears were getting red.

 

Just think of the music?

Maybe.

 

Outside, Wonwoo registered Jihoon softly playing through the simplified version of Träumerei that Mrs. Kim had prepared. It was earlier in the summer, maybe a month into their lessons, when Wonwoo arrived at the Kim household and was greeted by its lilting melody.

Mingyu had been the one to open the door for him that day, and they walked to the sitting room to meet with Mrs. Kim, enraptured as she was on the piano. She looked to Wonwoo like she was in her own world. Neither he nor Mingyu made a move, afraid of breaking the moment her playing was creating. It was a simple tune, without any of the precision that made Wonwoo like playing Bach and Clementi so much. He didn’t understand how such a straightforward sounding piece made him feel the way it did. Like he was drifting far away.

Jihoon was good - all right notes - but his playing was a poor imitation next to the memory of Mrs. Kim’s. Wonwoo didn’t know how she played like that, as if the music were coming out from her soul rather than from a contraption of wood and strings. Wonwoo didn’t know if he’d ever be able to play like that.

 

Just think of the music.

 

The mantra played in his head like a beacon, guiding him back to the present. Mingyu was still looking at him with concern. Maybe it didn’t matter that he wouldn’t ever be able to play like Mrs. Kim. Things like Träumerei sounded too sappy anyway. He’d just focus on what he could do. To that end, maybe Mingyu was right. If he just thought of the music, as it was written, nothing more or less, and focused on hitting the right keys at the right time, everything would work out.

He offered Mingyu a nod and a small smile. The smile Mingyu returned was bright as a star and twice as warm. In an instant, Wonwoo found himself wrapped in a bone-crushing hug.

“You’ll do great, hyung! I just know it!”

Wonwoo’s arms were stuck to his sides until Mingyu thankfully let him go, offering a last smile that showed his growing canines. Wonwoo returned the smile, albeit much dimmer. He didn’t dare speak, afraid to shatter the moment of understanding between the two of them. Wonwoo didn’t come to his piano lessons to make friends, but he might have ended up making one anyway.

A few seconds later, applause rang through the room. Wonwoo gave Mingyu one last look of determination, which Mingyu accepted with two thumbs up. It was the last thing Wonwoo saw before he turned and walked into the light-flooded stage.

His steps were calm and sure as he approached the piano.

 

Just think of the music.