Luckily for me—at least comparatively—I was diagnosed with the latter condition, and I had to thank Yunho for it. Because I loved him, I still retained my heart; because he did not love me back, I lost my hope. It was as simple as that.

Agoraphobia was really taking its toll on my sanity, and it was all I could do to maintain a relatively healthy lifestyle that basically revolved around decent food and sufficient sleep. My atrocious appearance did anything but improve; I still had distinct eye bags everyday and my sunken cheeks seemed to sink deeper and deeper into my jaw line until my cheekbones protruded conspicuously. My practice hours once again increased, and still it did not prove to be any use to my playing (at least in my eyes); several times I stayed in a practice room overnight and woke up with my nose wedged between two keys. Occasionally, I needed to wrap a thick coat of bandages around my fingers in order to lessen the pain I felt after relentlessly pounding them non-stop for ten hours on the hard surfaces of the monochromatic keys. My skin peeled, calluses a centimeter thick started growing at my fingertips, and blood leaked through my broken split nails at a daily basis. Still I kept practicing, almost consciously abusing my finger potency and strength.

If you think that this was bad, imagine what I was like when my last piano lesson with Yunho before the competition was just six minutes away.

Dressed in a clean white shirt and black pants with a bag swung over my shoulder and a bandage on every finger, I made my way to Yunho’s studio room and knocked politely. The door swung open after several seconds of self-conscious silence.

“Jaejoongie!” my professor grinned.

“Good afternoon, Yunho,” I greeted as I bowed shyly.

Yunho chuckled. “Still too formal as usual. Come in, come in.”

I quickly made my way into the room and let myself melt into its comforting atmosphere as I always did. Even if I was as nervous as nervous gets, his room was the most welcoming of the whole conservatory, surpassing even the library. It evoked the feeling of love and care, unlike everywhere else where only suspicious competitiveness was present.

“Have you purchased the airplane tickets that head back here?” he asked casually.

I gulped. “Y-Yes,” I replied, attempting to hide the burning sorrow in my voice.

“Good,” Yunho said as he took a long look at me. “Anyways, our flight leaves in a week from now at five in the afternoon. Please meet me here at noon.” He gave me my plane ticket—a thin piece of paper not longer then my hand. “I have already booked the hotel in Belgium that is basically a five-minute walk from the performance venue, and also managed to get a room with two single beds.”

Half of me rejoiced while half of me wanted to die. I nodded as I pretended to read the ticket information.

“Is this your first time travelling for a competition without your parents?”

I nodded with my head down. “Yah. Usually my mother would come with me. When she is too busy, one of my sisters would take her place.”

Yunho lifted my chin. “Remember, look at me when you talk to me,” he whispered fondly. “Sometimes I wonder if I scare you.”

‘You have no idea how scared I am,’ I thought. “No, you do not scare me.”

Yunho chuckled. “I’m glad.”

I smiled half-heartedly and made my way to the piano. ‘I will play well,’ I mentally coached myself. ‘I worked so long just to prove myself to him. I WILL play well. This is my last chance to show him that I am a good student.’ I gulped at the thought. It was my last chance—the last chance. I had to play well.

And I did. Sort of. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YJMIIxm1bGo)

I managed to get all of the right notes and everything (a huge feat for that piece), but even I knew that there was something missing in my music. Technique? Check. Dynamics? Check. Emotion? Passion?

It was then when I realized that I was playing like a player piano: void of feeling and completely methodological. ‘And I realize that NOW?!?’ I yelled inside, furious with myself. It turned out that, even after practicing for twelve hours a day, I still had a sea of things that could be improved.

By the time I finished my technically perfect performance, three of my bandages were loose and I had to take them off, revealing horrendously bruised fingers with dried blood stuck underneath stained nails. It was the first time I paid attention to them, and thus I was surprised at how ghastly they looked. It was a wonder why I was never aware of them in the first place. Nowadays I know that obsession is a prevailing feeling that overpowers all others, including physical pain.

However, before I could hide the hideous sight, Yunho was already kneeling beside me and quickly grabbed my hand to get a closer look. His face was the epitome of concern and distress. I tried retracting my arm but his hand had a firm grasp on my wrist.

I kept my head down as Yunho slowly pulled off each and every bandage and looked at my battered fingers. Never have I felt so vulnerable before. Every time the last of the sticky tape reluctantly let go of my groping skin, it stripped away some of my confidence along with it. My hand went limp; all of me went limp.

Yunho said nothing the whole time. His face did not flicker away from the dismay I saw on it. His forehead was creased with lines—creased with troubled concentration. His eyes flashed towards my own and I gulped.

“Does it hurt?” he asked simply.

I shook my head, but he saw right through my lie. His face hardened.

“I thought that you would trust me by now.”

“I do.”

“Then do not lie to me!” he raised his voice slightly while standing up abruptly. His jaw tightened. “You should have answered me truthfully whenever I asked you if anything was wrong. Jaejoongie, I see from your face that something is horribly wrong. Are you even taking care of yourself? You look as if you haven’t eaten for days!”

I cringed and tried to make myself as small as possible. “I-I just didn’t want t-to bother you. You are busy enough as it is.”

Yunho ran his hand through his hair in deep pondering. “Let’s go on a walk.”

I looked up in surprise. “Huh?”

My professor had already put on his coat. “Come.”

Totally taken by surprise, I had not choice but to follow suit.

When we made it outside, I found myself shuddering violently from the cold, and my tense eyes darted nervously around my surroundings. After being cooped up in a practice room for so long, I had forgotten how the wind blew obstinately on your face; I had forgotten the affectionate warmth that the sun gave you when its golden glisten managed to find its way onto your frozen skin; and I had forgotten what the sky looked like. I imagine that it is hard to believe, but sometimes it really is possible to forget what the outside world looks like.

“Are you cold?” my professor asked quietly.

“No,” I answered quickly.

Yunho took off his coat and draped it around me. “Don’t lie to me, Jaejoongie. You’re trembling like a willow tree.”

I gasped at his act of kindness. “But then YOU will get cold,” I exclaimed, immediately taking the coat off of my shoulders in an attempt to return it to him.

Yunho held my wrist. “You need to learn to let others help you once in a while.”

Sighing, I gave in and kept on walking though I was secretly grateful for the extra layer of warmth. I felt guilty for letting Yunho walk in the cold with only a thin long-sleeved shirt, and tore my eyes away from his well-sculpted abdominal muscles.

“Jaejoongie,” Yunho addressed me while looking straight ahead. “Do you remember what I told you about little birds and big birds? About how little birds trust their environments and themselves while the bigger ones don’t?”

I nodded. “Mm hm.”

“Then do you remember what I told you about Yoochun?”

I nodded again. “Mm hm.”

“Why do you think that they turned out that way?”

“Huh?”

“Why do you think big birds don’t trust? Why do you think Yoochun lost his trust?”

I frowned. “I-I don’t know,” I answered even though I had a vague idea.

“I am sure you do, Jaejoongie,” Yunho was looking at me with intensity in his eyes that left me breathless afterwards. He read me like a billboard.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I inhaled slowly. “Paranoia.”

Yunho smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Well, why paranoia?”

“Paranoia is basically an unfounded or exaggerated suspicion of others, sometimes reaching delusional proportions, right? It makes people constantly suspect the motives of those around them to the point where they believe that they are ‘out to get them’.” I paused for an eye-opening moment before continuing. “This makes them self-conscious, so they close up as much as possible.”

“Or even worse, they attack,” Yunho added. “When they are trying to defend themselves—from themselves—they retaliate.” I knew that he was thinking about Yoochun when he said that.

I contemplated this statement. “Yah. That’s right.”

“Look in front of you,” Yunho pointed straight ahead.

I followed the length of his finger and saw a ditch that was probably no more than two meters deep. “What?”

“Do you know what this is?”

I looked around. The ‘ditch’ was surrounded by a wooden fence with matching park benches situated at different locations; there was a little bridge made of dark green metal at the other side that made a subtle semi-circle; a grey statue of a goat was found at one end of the bridge, probably a memorial for some environmentalist; and there were little green plants sprouting out from the bottom of the ditch. “It’s a dried-up lake,” I deduced after several moments of close observation.

“Good work,” Yunho smiled. “Now, why do you think that this lake has dried up?”

“Inadequate water supply.”

“Guess again.”

“Inadequate water usage?”

“Think outside the box.”

“The sun went overboard with the whole evaporation-condensation deal?!” I was racking at my brain for any more tangible explanations.

Yunho laughed heartily. “You are too scientific sometimes, Jaejoongie.” He took a deep breath and walked towards the wooden fence. He stepped over it and took a seat on its horizontal surface, staring at the remnants of the lake. “I come here to think about things all the time. It always reeks of psychological discoveries. Every six months, the lake suddenly dries up overnight and the water does not return until half a year later.”

I stepped towards my professor until I was right behind him. “So I was right! The sun DID go overboard!”

My piano professor chuckled. “What I am trying to say here is that even Mother Nature has its systoles and diastoles. The lake is just having one of those bad times, but circumstances will improve. They always do eventually.” He lowered his head. “Well, usually they improve. If the population really uses too much water like you suggested, this lake would just forever be dried up. It is very improbable, but it IS possible.” Yunho sighed. “I can tell that you are going through bad times. I had this feeling ever since I came back from Japan because you had something in your eyes that I have never seen before, on top of the fact that you looked like a walking skeleton. If you thought that I had not noticed your unhealthy condition, you were wrong.”

Before I could stop myself, my palms immediately placed themselves onto my professor’s shoulders. Yunho reached behind him and the back of my hand.

“It was only when I saw your fingers that my suspicions were confirmed. I am not going to force you to tell me what is wrong,” he continued, “But I just wanted to let you know that I am always here to lend an ear. I know that you will tell me when the time is right and when you are ready.”

‘Which is never,’ I thought cynically.

“Just remember, Jaejoongie,” he said slowly, “That the lake still has a chance of drying up forever, no matter how slim the chance really is.”

After several minutes in that position of just staring into the dry lake, Yunho stood up. “Come on, I’ll buy you something to eat and then take you back to the conservatory.”

I was about to protest, but the look in his eyes made my vocal cords stop working. Smiling melancholically, he started walking. “You played well today,” he said softly.

“Thank you.” The corners of my lips travelled against gravity. ‘Guess I had some hope after all.’

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Yay another update!
The ditch that I am describing is real, by the way.
Thank you for the comments!