I was struck at how small and homey his studio room was. There were three pianos (I tilted my head in confusion at this, for usually most teachers need only two pianos) which took up more than half of the walking space. There were antique bookshelves lined up against the wall, filled to the brim with sheet music and other miscellaneous objects. Most peculiarly, there was a tree that had just recently shed its leaves, and what remained was little more than a dry tree branch. There were also pictures of his past students neatly hung up against the walls, and I recognized a younger Junsu among them.

I smiled. ‘One day, my picture would also be posted there.’

To be honest, I was expecting a grand ballet room with an eleven-foot Steinway grand piano positioned smack in the middle. There would be a leather couch at the end, romanticized posters of the most famous pianists lined up against the walls, and beautiful stage lights that would shine down when somebody touched a key. I knew that I was expecting too much, but really, when you dream about a glamorous career, it’s what you are bound to do once in a while.

Advertising does that to you, I guess.

“Good afternoon, Profess—”

“Yunho,” he callously cut me off.

“Right,” I closed my eyes in annoyance, “Good afternoon, Y-Yunho.” It was going to take me a long time to get used to that.

“Bravo,” he joked, applauding my feat in finally calling him by his first name.

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly and grinned.

“Now,” Yunho started going back to business, “There are a few things I would like to inform you of before we start our lessons.”

Nodding, I urged him to continue.

“Number one, you notice that there are three Steinway pianos here,” he pointed to the three beautiful black pianos laid together side by side. “Well, I am the only professor who has a room like this.”

“Why three pianos, though? Two is sufficient, don’t you think?”

“Every student has a different style, Jaejoongie. Some people prefer light pianos [he pointed at the piano on the right] and some people prefer heavy ones [he pointed at the piano on the left].” He looked at me mischievously. “And some people like to be surprised [he pointed at the middle piano].”

I giggled despite myself.

“Moreover,” he continued, “Sometimes I like to make arrangements of piano quartets and make them piano tets for twelve hands. That requires three pianos, does it not?”

I nodded like a good student. He had a point there.

“Secondly, I hate to break it to you, but nobody is allowed to practice here.”

I puffed up my cheeks.

Yunho laughed deeply. “This rule applies to all of my students and then some so that everybody would have an equal advantage.”

“I understand.”

“And lastly,” Yunho paused for effect, “There is a competition in Belgium called the Queen Elizabeth International Piano Competition. I am sure that you have heard of it.”

‘Like hell I heard of it! It’s like one of the biggest competitions out there!’

“Indeed I have,” I replied, hiding my excitement. “What about it?”

“I would like you to enter,” Yunho stated, eyes twinkling.

Hiding my surprise was impossible. “Me? Enter t-the Queen Elizabeth?”

In the past, I have only participated in three international competitions and never once have I won first place not to mention made it into the final round. I had absolutely no chance at this one!

“Oh, trust me, Jaejoongie,” Yunho said as if he were reading my mind. “You have a chance in this one. Just work hard and play well and you will be fine.”

Speechless, I nodded slowly, my lips moving voicelessly.

Then it hit me. My face saddened and my shoulders slumped. “Professor—”

“Yunho.”

“Yunho [god!], I don’t have any money. I am looking for employment at the moment since the only cash I have is a fifty dollar bill.”

“The competition pays for everything,” Yunho replied confidently. “Just as long as they accept you, everything is paid for including transportation and living expenses.”

I blinked but then continued with my hindering thoughts. “I am not old enough to travel alone, much less so if the trip is overseas. I would not be allowed to board the airplane and even if I do, I doubt that anyone would allow me to sign into a hotel room.”

“Yes, I was thinking about that today, too,” Yunho nodded slowly, “But then I realized that it was not I who was underage.”

I scowled. I hated that word “underage”. That word made me illegible for everything from learning to drive to living alone to drinking alcohol (not that I would want to, of course). Being limited like that made me constructively and increasingly rebellious.

“And so,” my handsome professor concluded, “I have decided to ‘take you under my wing’ so to speak.”

I tilted my head as if asking a question. Wasn’t I already under his wing?

“If you and your parents do not object,” Yunho explained, “I would be willing to serve as your ‘legal’ guardian for the competition. That means that we would take the same plane, use the same piano, live in the same hotel room, and so on and so forth.”

Travel with Yunho? Practice with Yunho? LIVE with Yunho? Are my ears deceiving me?

“I, uh, I-I’m not sure,” I stuttered. “I mean, I don’t want to be a burden t—”

Yunho placed his large hand on my thigh as if to silence me, and I felt my face turn pink at his warm touch. “I need to go anyway,” Yunho explained calmly. “I am part of the jury, you know.”

Oh, so that’s why I had a chance in the competition. It might not seem clear to most of the naïve population, but in real life, it’s how it goes. If you do not have any connections with the ones who pull the strings, then you have practically zero chance of getting anything in life even if you deserve it. When the muses proclaimed, ‘Pray be merciful when killing the ones whom you call your enemies’, they actually mean ‘Do not kill your enemies if they have any high connections; feel free to kill the ones that don’t.’ You get the drift.

“Well, then, I guess it’s okay,” I replied hesitantly. “I’ll have to ask my parents first.”

“Good,” Yunho smiled. “Now, let’s begin the lesson.”

He pointed towards the pianos and all of a sudden I tensed up. Like seventy-five percent of the global population, I possess the problem called “stage fright.” My symptoms were the usual. The first thing I would feel would be this awful lurching in my stomach, as if some fat dude decided to sit on me and stay there for an hour or so. I would then involuntarily clench my hands and realize with helpless unease that my palms were sweaty and my fingers were incessantly shaking. Standing up would make the blood rush out of my head to god-knows-where, leaving me dizzy for a moment or two before I could finally regain my eyesight. By the time I finally settle onto the piano bench, I would feel the chattering of my teeth and the pounding of my terrified heart, anxious to get the performance over with.

And that was exactly what happened.

I chose the heavy piano (bad idea). Lifting my trembling hands to the keyboard, I ceased breathing for a moment, closed my eyes, and hoped for the best as my fingers finally pressed down into one of the deep white keys.

It didn’t work.

Instead of the usual brilliancy of my fingers, I found myself struggling to play a scale without missing notes (failing, of course). My memory of the piece that I believed to have engraved in my mind suddenly vanished, and all of a sudden, I felt myself straining to remember the notes of the easier sections. My “automatic pilot” sense just turned off for some strange reason. I had to fake through the fast passages, pray through the slow ones, and bite down on my tongue in order to stop my chattering teeth. All this time, I felt Yunho’s eyes on me, making me shiver even more violently.

After I was done, I didn’t even bother to stand up and bow. I just sat there dumbly, with my head down and my eyes watery. ‘Way to make a fool of yourself, Jaejoong.’

“Good,” Yunho simply said after I played, pretending nothing was wrong. “Play this passage again for me.”

I sighed inwardly, believing that he was rethinking sending me off to that huge competition. Boy was I wrong.

With downcast eyes, I went through the lesson, oblivious to the change that was coursing through my veins.

When it came the time to say goodbye, I was practically on the verge of tears. “Thank you for the lesson, Profes—”

“Yunho.”

“Yunho,” I finished, my head still tilted at a 90 degree angle to the rest of me.

Suddenly, I felt Yunho grab my chin and hoist it up to face his round eyes.

“I hate it when people do not look me in the eye when they are talking to me,” he explained quietly.

“I-I'm sorry,” I apologized meekly, fear tainting my eyes.

Yunho laughed as he my cheek, while I turned as pink as ever.

````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

I hope you guys like the poster. I made it, so it's super shabby. Thankfully, this is only temporary. I requested a poster from another site, and that poster will replace this one once my request is completed.

Thank you for the comments and birthday wishes. There were very much appreciated.