Eurus…

Afer Ventus…

They meet up two, three, sometimes four times a week in the practice rooms. They play until their fingertips are red and sing until their throats are sore. The hours fly by faster than Daehyun can blink. The performance is the last project of the semester, and will be graded as their final. Daehyun watches the moon as it wanes and disappears, leaving behind bare and cold nights. When there are only two weeks remaining, Daehyun spends more time studying at his job than actually working, and is infinitely thankful that the teachers at the conservatory understand. He starts wearing his glasses more often than not, spends every last penny on caffeine. He doesn’t have time to go to Himchan’s café anymore. Youngjae fares no better. Late evenings turn into late nights of practice and sometimes Daehyun only leaves the campus at two in the morning. It’s a miracle they can even get into the practice rooms at that hour.

Daehyun and Youngjae are sort of friends, now. Daehyun doesn’t bring up what he thinks he knows. He leaves a flicker of doubt, although it’s small. They message each other occasionally, and even hold full conversations when they drift from the topic of their project. Daehyun shares a breakfast muffin with Youngjae one day, and Youngjae brings two steaming cups of coffee with him one night. When Daehyun comes into the practice room two days in a row with a runny nose, Youngjae brings boxes of vitamin supplements to Daehyun’s dorm room. Yongguk only barely manages to stuff his smile inside his palm when Daehyun introduces him to Youngjae.

Exhaustion drags every student down to rock bottom. One final comes and goes. Youngjae’s fingers tangle together and slip off the keyboard, and Daehyun’s voice cracks as if he’s still in his adolescence. They make it past their second final, and then the third. Daehyun and Youngjae share tired smiles, half-closed eyelids, lean their weight against each other. At some point, Daehyun stops standing by the piano, and sits next to Youngjae on the bench instead.

Daehyun and Youngjae are sort of friends, now, but Daehyun has fallen, and fallen hard.

So the world goes round and round

With all you ever knew

They say the sky high above

Is Caribbean blue...

The moon begins to wax. Daehyun crashes and sleeps through a whole day and only has his performance final to worry about. There is a rehearsal the next day. Under the harsh lights of the auditorium, Youngjae’s skin looks sickly pale, but he’s gained more color than he had had over the last week. Daehyun still worries when he sees a smudge of concealer just below Youngjae’s eyes. The performance is more of a yearly festival, in which most classes have a part. Dance, instruments, singing, acting, even baking, cooking, and all variants of art participate. It’s a two day event that lasts for more than half the day. Entry for outside visitors comes with a five dollar fee. Long tables laden with food from students bakers and chefs line the walls outside of the performance hall, creating a wide, enclosed area with circular tables on the inside offering student created comics, books, paintings, ceramics, and more.

Youngjae finds Daehyun amidst the spaghetti and calamari at the Italian-themed food table around the twelfth performance on the first day. They themselves are number thirty-five, toward the end, and had planned to meet up backstage before the twenty-seventh.

Youngjae slips a roll of sushi onto Daehyun’s plate and says, “Are you ready?”

Daehyun swallows around a mouthful of breaded squid and resists rocking back and forth on his feet. “Yep,” he declares, popping the p.

They had gone for casual. Daehyun wears a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a cream-colored sweater, thickly knitted into subtle patterns. Youngjae’s pants are a lighter blue, but his sweater is black. Daehyun is just glad that Youngjae hadn’t insisted that they should wear suits.

“Our song is too comfortable for sharp-looking suits,” Youngjae had said. Daehyun had sighed in relief and missed the fond gleam in Youngjae’s eyes.

If every man says all he can,

If every man is true,

Do I believe the sky above

Is Caribbean blue...

Twenty-six finds the both of them backstage, bowing to their professors. As they wait and crane their heads to look out onto the stage, Youngjae takes out a two packets of hand warmers. He shakes them roughly and squeezes them between his fingers like a stress ball. Daehyun chews on his bottom lip and gives up pretending as if he isn’t nervous.

“Youngjae,” Daehyun starts, but forgets what he had wanted to say.

“My fingers are icicles,” Youngjae declares poetically. He’s grinning, some kind of lopsided thing that betrays his own anxiety and Daehyun feels calmer with the knowledge that Youngjae is here with him. Youngjae cups his hands and breathes into them for emphasis and Daehyun giggles a little, probably sounding more maniacal than amused. His jitters are unpleasant, but somehow Daehyun is sure he’ll never give it up for anything else.

At thirty, Daehyun leaves to warm up his voice outside. Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three and Youngjae comes to get him. At thirty-four, the backstage helpers are shoving a microphone into Daehyun’s hands and three men are getting ready to wheel out a grand piano. Youngjae throws away his hand warmers and turns to Daehyun. On stage, the lights go off, and the thirty-fourth performers rush backstage. Some backstage helper is whispering frantically for Daehyun and Youngjae to go, go, go, but Daehyun stalls. He leans in and brushes his lips across the smooth skin of Youngjae’s cheek, lighter than the touch of a breeze. Someone shoves Daehyun in the back. It’s probably the backstage helper.

One step and they’re on the stage, bright lights flushing the color from their skin. Youngjae walks to the piano and Daehyun finds that his feet walk in step with him automatically. Daehyun stands by his side as Youngjae rests his hand on the sleek black curve of the piano’s keyboard. They bow in unison, counting one two three before rising. There is comfort in this routine, practiced to the point that it’s muscle memory.

Now, Daehyun should be heading to center stage but—

Boreas...

Zephryus...

Youngjae sits at the piano, but Daehyun is still there, standing in front of it. He hesitates a second more and then holds onto the slim edge of the piano. He hops up and counts his blessings that his heels didn’t accidentally slam into the piano. Youngjae hides his surprise well when they lock eyes with each other, the silent signal to start.

With an inhale, Youngjae begins. Soothing and familiar, the melody washes over Daehyun’s frayed nerves like a balm. He watches Youngjae’s fingers, the way they smooth across the notes with confidence and draw the music out of the piano. Youngjae’s head is bowed to the keyboard and his body moves with his hands, relaxed. The solo measures pass by and Daehyun joins in, harmonizing softly and rising in crescendo before falling rapidly to piano. Over and over, like waves lapping on the shores of a beach. Daehyun thinks of the ocean he has left behind.

They lose themselves in their music. Daehyun thinks that if the whole world came crashing down around them, they still would continue their song. It’s another thing they share, this passion of theirs. This ability to invest themselves wholly in the one thing they love most in the world. This is the magic they create, the only magic that is known to them. The greatest kind of magic. It’s this magic that has brought them together, Daehyun knows.

“If all you told was turned to gold,

If all you dreamed was new,

Imagine sky high above

In Caribbean blue...”

Youngjae can’t help but look at Daehyun as he sings through the last part. Eyes closed, both hands clutching at the microphone, and swaying ever so slowly from side to side, Daehyun looks just as he did the first time he had sung for Youngjae. He looks, Youngjae decides, like warmth, like the sun, like everything that makes Youngjae happy. And this time, Youngjae is sure that he knows the feeling that bubbles in his chest. Admiration, appreciation, care, joy, fondness, liveliness, energy—more—all of which can be summed up in a four-letter word that Youngjae hasn’t dared to even think for years. Youngjae plays the last note of his part and suddenly, Daehyun opens his eyes. He turns his head to the side and their eyes meet in a way that Youngjae is sure is intentional. Daehyun is singing through the last measure, holding his gaze steady and Youngjae trapped in it.

There’s a short pause as the final note reverberates in the air, silence sitting heavily in the auditorium before it ruptures with thundering applause. It’s as deafening as it is thrilling and Youngjae doesn’t even try to hide the pride from his expression as he stands from the bench. Daehyun jumps off from his precarious position on the piano, stumbling slightly. Youngjae catches him by the arm and is met with the brightest grin he’s ever seen. He’s so thoroughly dazed that Daehyun has to nearly lead him to bow at the center of the stage. At some point, one of them had linked their pinkies together, and neither of them tries to shake it off now. They bow and leave the stage as calmly as they can manage, handing off the microphone as they pass backstage. They have all of a minute to stare at each other as if it’s the first time they’re seeing one another: wordless, hearts hammering in tandem, adrenaline still racing through their veins.

And then Daehyun is being pulled aside for congratulations by Professor Lee, and Professor Dong latches onto Youngjae.

They part just before the last performance of the day, Daehyun back to the food tables and Youngjae to his dorm. Youngjae folds a crane as soon as he gets back and slides it under Daehyun’s door. In his back pocket his phone weighs heavily, and Youngjae wonders if maybe he should talk about today with Daehyun, if maybe today meant something.

#372: That was a brilliant performance. It was a good song.

a/n: the song used in this chapter is called Caribbean Blue, by Enya. It's an amazing song you all should listen to! The lyrics were the parts in italic and the part Daehyun sang.

:)
-Jess