When I had finished, I placed my hands on my lap and waited. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Baekhyun. I could tell by the way he shuffled across the floor. A little eagerly. A little shyly.

I saw his shoes before I looked up and saw him. His face was closer to mine than I had expected. But when I stared at his cheekbones, looked into his eyes, took in his features all the other girls loved, all I could really see were the bags under his eyes and the slight hollowness in his cheeks. He blinked, and in that instant when his eyes were closed, I did not see a someone with the looks of an idol. I saw a tired boy who was about to kneel over with exhaustion.

 And then he opened his eyes, and I looked away.

“You play well,” he said, leaning against the piano. “Better than a lot of people I know.”

I had expected him to say something like that. He was always like that, and even more so when he was tired.

“You don’t have to be nice,” I said, a little harshly. “I haven’t played in a really long time. My technique’s awful.”

“Well,” he said, “I haven’t played in a very long time either.”

When I didn’t say anything, he smiled apologetically at me. “I shouldn’t be bothering you. I already do enough of that, don’t I?”

He was smiling. He was hurt. I had hurt him. I was always hurting him. He turned to leave and was halfway across the room before I got the words out.

“Do you know anything by Debussy?”

Rushed words that melted into each other until they were a blurred mess that barely made any sense. Quietly spoken. Tense and strangled. Baekhyun turned around but he didn’t smile. He just stared at me in surprise. I felt my face redden.

He said, “I know En Bateau.”

 I asked, “Primo or secondo?”

“Secondo.”

And so we sat down to play. He made mistakes. I made mistakes. We made music.

When we finished, my hands stayed on the piano but I did not play.

“I want to play something for you,” I said. “Can I?”

He nodded.

I played.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know,” he said. “I heard it in your music.”

“I shouldn’t have been so nasty to you. I was frustrated with myself for playing so badly.”

He looked me straight in the eye and said, “You play very well.”

And this time, I knew he meant it.

Later that day, Baekhyun slipped me a note.

“I don't play accurately - anyone can play accurately - but I play with wonderful expression.”

I never slipped notes in class, but that day, I did.

"Thank you."