Theme music: Bach's Partita No. 6 in E minor - Tatiana Nikolayeva 

That day, upon hearing about Junsu’s collapse, Yoochun’s body froze, and he felt no strength as his mind stopped functioning.

But luckily, it was nothing serious. Junsu was obviously under a lot of stress, and the news of Siwon’s suicide attempt had pushed him past the edge. But the doctor said he’d just have to rest for a few days, then everything would be fine. Physically, at least.

The next day, Yoochun left Junsu under Jaejoong and Yunho’s care, to go out and take care of things. He only got to get back to Junsu now, as Jae had called and said Yunho and he would have to go back for the afternoon, to attend to some business at Yunho’s establishment.

So Yoochun stepped in the room. He expected a quiet, stagnant feeling – exactly what made he hate hospitals. But he had walked into air - not the air coming in and out of the ventilator, but natural air - rushing towards him. He could hear the sound of little birds chirping, and leaves rustling. And the light was so bright, it took Yoochun a while to adjust his eyes to it, and look for Junsu.

The windows were wide opened, and curtains were flying with the wind. There Junsu was, his back towards Yoochun, leaning against some pillows. He was looking at some birds staying on the edge of the windows.

It was such a lively sight: birds jumping small steps, their shadows dancing on the white bed sheets. Strands of Junsu’s hair flew each time the wind blew through the window. Leaves and white flower petals occasionally went with the wind into the room. A whole flower fell on Junsu’s beautiful brown locks. Only Junsu himself stayed eerily still.

Yoochun came closer.

“Junsu-ah?” Yoochun tried. He touched Junsu hand. Junsu’s skin was cool and smooth, and he didn’t flinch under Yoochun’s touch.

Slowly, Junsu turned his head. “ Oh, Yoochun?” His face was pale and his eyes still like Autumn water.

Yoochun nodded. He sat down on the edge of the bed, taking the flower on Junsu's hair down and put it in the smaller guy's hand. “How do you feel?”

“I’m all good. Thanks for caring about me.” A ghost of a smile swept through Junsu’s face.

“What are you saying? Of course I care about you,” Yoochun furrowed his eyebrows, displeased. Meanwhile, Junsu had turned his attention back to the birds.

Yoochun sighed.

“Siwon still lives. Luckily they found him before it was too late.”

“…”

“The Choi’s are going crazy over why Siwon wanted to end his life. I went out to erase all possible leads, but couldn't find anything either. Siwon obviously took care of things beforehand, so that nobody can trace it back to you.” Yoochun inhaled deeply. “I actually quite admire him now." "I think you should go see him sometime.” Finally, he added.

To which Junsu answered curtly, “No.”

“What?”

“Yoochun, you know me. I loathe cowardice, no matter how it’s masked. The way he tried to end his life and make me feel accountable for it makes me sick.”

“Junsu,” Yoochun said sternly, “He loves you. You may not reciprocate the feeling, but I think he deserves more than what you’re giving him now.”

“He loves me?” Junsu laughed coldly. “You must be kidding me. He’s not capable of loving anyone. Look at the way he attempted to leave his family and all his loved ones behind. He was just bored out of his mind to fall for me like that, probably because there’s nothing else he couldn’t have. There’s nothing he really wants in life. Such life has no meaning.”

“Junsu!” Yoochun exclaimed in disagreement..

“Am I not right? I despise that kind of life and you know it.”

“Junsu, you can’t despise something you don’t even know!”

“Oh, but I do, all too well.” A corner of Junsu’s lips curled up as he turned back to look at Yoochun in the eyes. “After all what’s the difference, his life and anyone else’s? The standard life is like this: You’re born, you go to school, you get a job, get married, have children, retire. Then die. Is Siwon more special than that? What’s the difference? Bet if God exists, he must be laughing up there.”

Yoochun was about to retorte, but he suddenly realized Junsu’s smile was so sad. And more than that – it looked weird. Like a smile someone painted on a crumbled piece of paper.

 “We’re like a bunch of ants, Yoochun. Have you ever watched ants? Each ant is an individual but do we care? No. Though they work different tasks they’re basically the same under our eyes. God looks at us like how we look at those ants, Yoochun. Don’t you think it’s pitiful?”

A single tear suddenly fell from Junsu’s eyes, which made Yoochun feel as if his heart were being squeezed.

“Don’t you think we’re pitiful, Yoochun? We live like this, trying to do things to the best of our abilities, but we’re just one in so many people in this whole world and once we die for how long anyone would remember us? Do we remember any ant? I don’t want it Yoochun. The thought makes me sick. Makes me sick and angry. I don’t want to live like that. I want more.”

Tears after tears fell down, tainted Junsu's white cheeks. “And yet there are people like Siwon who just don’t understand. They live like they own this world without knowing they’re but meaningless creatures like all of us.  They don't know no matter how rich they are, nobody would remember them for longer than they do anyone else. What’s the point?”

Junsu looked at Yoochun for a long while, tears still running on his face. Only tears and quiet tears – no sobbings. Yoochun was rendered speechless.

Finally, Junsu wiped his tears with his hands. He let one hand linger over his face for a while, then removed it to reveal red, puffy eyes when he finally said again. “Yoochun, I want to be discharged from the hospital today.”

“Junsu,” Yoochun swallowed dryly. “Junsu, you have to rest. The doctor says you’re too stressed right now. I can’t let you go.”

“I have a recital tonight God damnit!” Junsu got out of control again. “Don’t you dare stopping me! Do you still not understand me? I will be such a pianist that no one could replace! It will get of out this repressive circle of this Goddamned world! Yoochun, let me go!”

But Yoochun shook his head adamantly. “I left a message at the conservatory, saying you won’t be able to play tonight. By now they should’ve got the message already. You will stay here and rest until tomorrow at least.”

“Yoochun, you!” Junsu looked at Yoochun with rage. But Yoochun met Junsu’s eyes unwaveringly. “And I will not take you anywhere. Junsu I…”

Right then a third voice was heard. “If he won't, I will.”

It startled both Junsu and Yoochun. They jerked their eyes to the door to find at the entrance a tall man, whose face was so pale as if he was deeply shocked by something. His breath was uneven.

“I will take you.” Shim Changmin said again, his voice clear this time. Though he seemed struck, he looked at Junsu straight in the eyes. Something akin to electricity was felt by them both as their gazes met.

What followed happened in a matter of seconds.

Junsu got up, grabbed his coat as he sprinted towards Changmin. The two ran out together, with Changmin behind Junsu to thwart any of Yoochun’s attempts to stop them. It happened so quickly Yoochun couldn’t react fast enough. He could only call “Junsu, Junsu” hysterically as the sounds of Junsu and Changmin’s running steps echoed back from the long, white hallway.

Junsu fell asleep inside Changmin’s car, as Changmin drove them back to the university campus so Junsu could practice some more before the evening recital. Changmin inserted a Glenn Gould CD into the player, but couldn’t hear any of it.

Changmin had come to visit Junsu and happened to hear the end part of Yoochun and Junsu’s conversation. He suddenly realized, the reason why Junsu used the excruciatingly heavily hammered piano for practice, and the lengths he would go to master any piece of music. It was more than mere love for music, more than art, it was a cry out, was an intense yearn to break free.

Who would have known, under the cold façade, it was such passion so strong like tidal waves that Junsu was holding?

That night, Junsu played the 35 pieces of Bach’s Goldberg variations without a mid-time break. He sat in front of the piano, playing one of the most beautiful versions of the variations Changmin or anyone else had ever heard. Junsu didn't have to fake the emotions while he performed. All the while he looked like a child playing with the piano, so full of pure love, pure feelings, so playfully and freely that it seemed like it was not the same person, who that afternoon was still in hospital robe, countenance pale like dead moon.

And with what ease his hands ran through that range of white and black keys! An image of Junsu's heavy-hammered piano, which stood still like a guillotine inside the weathered walls of Junsu's apartment, came to Changmin's mind and gave him chills.

To obtain the current level of technique, Junsu had agreed to forfeit the ability to play later in his life. The span of his career would only be one third as long as what it should be, in exchange for a chance to become greater than all others.

Junsu shone like a star on stage. A meteor star, shining brightly, blindingly, because soon it would die into nothingness.

“You have to dedicate your entire self and soul to something,” so Junsu had said, the night he spent at Changmin’s place. Changmin finally understood it now.

Changmin cried, the first time in so many years.

When it all ended, everyone in the hall stood up to form a standing ovation.

End 18

A/N: "Partita" also means "gone" in Italian.

Many people don't like how Glenn Gould plays Bach, saying Glenn's playing is not very Baroque. I personally really like him though.

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