They met in the hallway outside the music department, five minutes to go before the first music theory lecture of the term. Minseok had the fleeting feeling of a very bright-eyed something grinning in excitement while running into him before he found himself staring up at the ceiling, the stack of sheet music he had been carrying scattered all over the floor around him.

“I am so sorry!” The speaker had a slight accent along with an awkwardly formal tone. Minseok caught sight of flashes of blonde hair before someone was pulling him up, causing some of the paper around them to flutter across the floor. The sheet music. He stumbled in a daze, still disoriented from his fall, face beginning to heat up as he realized people were staring at him.

“No, it’s fine,” he mumbled when he had managed to blink away the embarrassment, focusing on the speaker instead. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

“I am all right.” There it was again, the awkward, formal tone and slight accent that made Minseok think of places beyond the steel and glass skyscrapers of Seoul. The boy who had knocked Minseok over knelt down to pick up the scattered papers before handing them back, smiling sheepishly as he stepped back. “I am really sorry. Please forgive me.”

“Oh, no, really. It’s fine.” There was a slight pause, in which Minseok finally managed to get a hold of his disoriented thoughts as he stared down at the stack of sheet music, pages now disorganized and out of place. “Are you an exchange student?”

“Oh, yes. From China. Hello, my name is Luhan. I am a sophomore at Yonsei University and I am a major in music. It is nice to meet you!” The boy flashed a relieved grin, eyes brightening up when he seemed to realize that Minseok wasn’t angry at him. It was an almost comical situation, and Minseok had to suppress a chuckle from watching the boy fumble over the words with such an enthusiastic expression.

“I’m Minseok, sophomore at Yonsei University. I also major in music. It’s nice to meet you too.” He nodded towards the music theory classroom. “Class is about to start. Let’s go before we’re late to the first lecture of the term.”

He didn’t know what he was getting himself into, not when Luhan sat next to him in the lecture hall and whispered brightly in that awkward, formal, accented Korean he had when he first arrived, “Do you want to be friends?” But then, Minseok had never known what he was getting himself into, not before he met Luhan.

Monday morning, Minseok wakes up to the persistent beeping of his alarm clock, vision blurred in the hazy light of morning filtering through the curtains. He hits the snooze button and dresses almost instinctively, mechanically pulling on his clothes and brushing his teeth. The pages of the calendar on his desk flutter when Minseok’s fingers brush across them as he walks past his desk, revealing a smudge of red marker on one of the pages.

His roommate Jongdae is sprawled across the couch in the living room when Minseok trudges past him towards the kitchen. “Make some coffee for me, okay?” he asks in way of greeting, and Minseok gives him a noncommittal mumble as he rummages around the kitchen cabinets in search of the coffee machine.

The biting winter weather outside numbs everything and dispels the caffeine effect of the coffee when Minseok steps outside and begins the walk towards campus. He takes his time, each footstep dragging along the snow-covered paths, feet hurting from the cold despite his boots. When he finally reaches the hallway outside the music theory lecture hall, the whispers begin. Little, sneaking glances at first, people seemingly trying to edge away from him when he passes them. A group of girls becomes unnaturally silent when he walks by, despite the hushed conversation just moments ago.

Minseok ignores them all and stops in front of the empty music practice room beside the lecture hall. There are snatches of a familiar tune lingering in the air when he leans forward to listen, a faint moment of something like a sorrowful memory lost forever.

It’s a cold, winter day.

“You’ll find your way around by yourself soon enough,” Minseok replied when Luhan begged him to show him around the campus the moment class was dismissed. They walked along the edge of the sidewalk towards the cafeteria for lunch, Luhan taking the lead despite the fact that he didn’t even know where they were going. Luhan’s enthusiasm had not abated from earlier that day, his eyes still bright with excitement as he clutched his textbooks and walked quickly in front of Minseok, turning around every once in a while as if to make sure that Minseok was still behind him.

“Why not? I need to learn anyways. I might as well learn faster so I don’t get lost.” Really, Luhan was way too enthusiastic, his beaming smile brightening up even the cold winter weather. There was an air of naïveté to him—it was as if he was too friendly, too innocent for the world. It made Minseok want to help him, before something stripped the joyful smile in Luhan’s eyes away.

“Why did you transfer to Yonsei?” Minseok asked instead, but he sighed and pointed to the right when Luhan attempted to turn around the wrong corner. “The cafeteria is that way. I’ll show you around after lunch, okay? And we can go sightseeing over the weekend.”

Luhan mumbled something, and the only words Minseok thought he caught were “singing” and “DBSK.” He gave Luhan a curious look, but decided to let him be. After all, singing made sense, since Luhan was a music major. “So you major in vocals?”

“Yes. Thank you so much for your help!” Maybe it was also the hesitant, stumbling Korean, but Luhan’s look of gratitude made Minseok want to protect him. That kind of naïveté never seemed to go well, not in the world Minseok knew.

The seat beside Minseok remains empty as the lecture hall fills up. Several people pass by it, but they always move away after a moment, when someone else nudges them and nods discretely towards Minseok. The professor begins with an introduction of the class, which Minseok tunes out, only to catch the words “sign-ups for our class competition will be passed out now.”

A paper is passed towards Minseok, but he passes it back without even taking a glance at it. The professor continues, “Auditions for the entertainment company, SM Entertainment, are coming up—if any vocal majors wish to sign up, please feel free to.” Someone behind Minseok whispers quietly and Minseok’s grip on his pencil tightens as the whispers spread around him and people begin to glance at each other. A few of them turn around in their seats to stare at him throughout the entire lesson. When class is finally dismissed, he walks out without lifting his head up to meet anyone’s eyes, the bridge of his nose stinging with that sour reminder of holding back tears.

After Luhan had finished eating his fifth snack from the street vendor at the side of the market, Minseok decided that he valued his wallet and was never going to buy food for Luhan again. Sightseeing around Seoul was a tedious job, yet he couldn’t help but enjoy himself. Luhan flitted around the stalls, popping up every few minutes to excitedly point at something to Minseok before disappearing off again. Sometimes he forgot where he was and talked in rapid Chinese before Minseok had to remind him that he didn’t understand Luhan’s native language.

They ended up wandering past a record shop in the afternoon, hands full of food and little trinkets Luhan impulsively bought at nearly every stall they visited at the market. The moment Luhan saw the record shop, he bolted towards a poster hanging on the window and proceeded to stare intensely at it for several moments.

“It’s an advertisement for a local competition,” Minseok explained when he saw the furrowed look of concentration on Luhan’s face. “The first place prize is automatic entry in the national competition. If you go to the national competition, agencies might scout you if they think you’re good enough.”

“Oh.” Luhan’s eyes brightened and he smiled. “I want to do it. But not alone. Minseok-ah, can you sing?”

“I’m not a vocal major,” Minseok replied nervously, staring down at his hands. “I don’t think I’m that good or anything. You should ask one of the vocal majors.” Music to Minseok was more about the touch of fingertips to smooth keys and sheets of notes spread out in front of him. “I don’t really sing.”

“You play piano right? Please? Even if it’s just accompanying me. I want to do this with a friend. And you could harmonize if you want to.” Friend. The word felt so warm to Minseok, like the little flicker of hope he had lost long ago.

“I…suppose. I’ll try it out, but if it doesn’t work you’ll have to ask someone else instead, all right? It’s not a guarantee.” But Luhan’s grin felt like warmth spreading all over Minseok, flickers of hope and something he had forgotten was called friend.

“Minseok-ah? How are things going at school?”

They repeat this routine every weekday, once every weekend. She asks him questions. He responds with the bare minimum. She never notices the way his voice threatens to crack whenever her questions get too painful. She doesn’t know.

“It’s fine, Mom. I’m doing well. Studying well.”

“That’s good to hear. You said you were staying over break, right? Something about a competition? I hope you do well.”

“Yeah, I’m staying over break. There’s a competition.” He exchanges a few more formalities and assurances, then hangs up, staring at the calendar on his desk. Almost unconsciously, he reaches for the pages and flips until he finds the date marked with the large red circle around it, with the words national competition! written neatly inside the space. Things are okay. Things will be okay.

“I’m okay,” he whispers to himself, but he knows he’s never told a bigger lie.

This was a bad idea, Minseok thought, ducking under a dusty shelf and fighting the urge to sneeze as Luhan rushed towards one of the pianos in the music practice room. “You know we’re technically not allowed to come into the practice room without the consent of a professor, and we didn’t ask anyone.”

“There was no one to ask,” Luhan called back. Somehow, he was already sitting at the piano, out a few simple melodies as he waited for Minseok to make his way towards him. “It will be quick, all right?”

“Move over.” Minseok playfully pushed Luhan to the side and ran his fingers over the glossy keys of the piano. “What do you want me to play?”

“How about we try Love in the Ice? The one by DBSK. You can harmonize if you know the harmonies?”

Of course it would be DBSK. Minseok gave a wry grin and tapped out the melody, looking up at Luhan for confirmation. “You’re obsessed with DBSK, aren’t you?” He began playing the intro, nodding to Luhan for him to come in.

“So what if I am?” Luhan shot back with a grin, before he began singing. No, singing wasn’t the correct word to describe it. There was something so pure and beautiful about Luhan’s tone that Minseok slowly stopped playing and just sat there in awe, listening to Luhan’s ringing voice carry through the music room until he realized with a start that Luhan had stopped.

“Hello? Minseok-ah? I cannot sing with you if you do not harmonize or play the piano.”

“Ah! Sorry about that!” Minseok blinked in surprise and shook his head. “Sorry. I got distracted by your voice. It’s amazing.”

Luhan merely laughed and tilted his head back towards the piano. “Don’t get distracted this time, okay?”

They began again, with Minseok trying to ignore Luhan’s melodic voice in order to concentrate on his harmonization and piano-playing instead. This time, he shut his eyes, mostly out of embarrassment, because he didn’t want Luhan to mock him for how he sang. When he tuned in on Luhan’s singing again once he was sure he had the harmony correct, Minseok suddenly found that Luhan had stopped and that he was the only one still singing.

“What is it?” he asked self-consciously, the beginnings of nervousness flitting in his stomach. This was why he stopped singing. Why did he even try, why did he even let himself be convinced by Luhan? The boy was watching him slightly open-mouthed in the ensuing, awkward silence, and Minseok had half the mind to just stand up and bolt away.

“That…that was beautiful!” To his surprise, Minseok found himself being hugged by Luhan and almost lifted in the air due to the exchange student’s excitement. “Please sing with me, Minseok-ah!” It was easier to breathe now, the frantic jabs of fear fading away from the tight grip they had around him.

“I…” Minseok was at a complete loss of words. “I suppose…”

Maybe it would be different this time, when Luhan was smiling at him like that. “Don’t worry, Minseok-ah. We’ll be the best, I promise.”

Tuesday morning, Minseok wakes up to the persistent beeping of his alarm clock, vision blurred in the hazy light of morning filtering through the curtains. He hits the snooze button and dresses almost instinctively, mechanically pulling on his clothes and brushing his teeth. The pages of the calendar on his desk flutter when Minseok’s fingers brush across them as he walks past his desk, revealing a smudge of red marker on one of the pages.

The professor reminds the class again of the upcoming class competition and audition. Minseok bites his lip and doesn’t say anything as he continues taking notes on composing, but when he looks down at his notebook he realizes he’s unconsciously doodled the words we’ll be the best in between the lines of his notes. He erases it quickly, throat tightening uncomfortably, the words echoing in his mind.

Jongdae texts him halfway through class asking Minseok to meet up with him for lunch, like he does once a week. Probably because he wants to talk. Jongdae always wants to talk these days, Minseok thinks as he slides his phone back into his pocket, out of sight of his professor’s quick gaze. But then, Jongdae probably knows Minseok better than Minseok knows himself, even though they have only been roommates for a year or so. That doesn’t mean Minseok enjoys listening to everything Jongdae tells him, though. To be honest, in the past year or so, Minseok has always thought of Jongdae as the best friend who walked a step behind him instead of with. It makes him feel somewhat guilty, so he takes out his phone again and types quickly before the professor catches him. Sure. Same place as last week? Cafe across the street?

It’s a start, he tells himself. An apology for what he had done by pushing Jongdae away all that time.

The days went by quickly, as they rehearsed nearly every afternoon in the music room and sat next to each other during their classes together planning different arrangements of the song—Minseok accompanying and harmonizing while Luhan sang his heart out. Sometimes Minseok sang his own verses, but most of the time, he let Luhan take the parts. He didn’t feel comfortable singing on his own, without someone else to back him up, to disguise his voice.

It was during times like these, when Luhan turned to look at Minseok as they sang together, that something began stirring in Minseok. He didn’t know how to describe it—it wasn’t attraction in the romantic sense. It was the realization that they were meant to be, the realization that Minseok had been waiting his entire life for someone like Luhan to come and change everything for what he was meant to do.

It’s cold outside, the winter cutting through his lungs whenever Minseok tries to breathe out frosty mist like smoke clinging to the icy shards in the air. The cold reminds him of the sting of open wounds, a sharp knife of grief against his heart that refuses to dull. He hates the cold.

Jongdae is already sitting at a table when Minseok enters the cafe, shaking snow off his clothes and wincing as the sudden warmth bites at his frozen nose and fingers. He nods in appreciation when he sits down across Jongdae, noticing that Jongdae has already ordered him the coffee Minseok likes best.

“Did you want to talk?” Minseok looks over the menu Jongdae pushes at him thoughtfully, lingering for too long over the entrees. He doesn’t want to talk.

“I suppose.” Jongdae waits for Minseok to call a waiter over, finish ordering, and settle back in his seat with his coffee before continuing, “But you probably don’t want to talk.”

“Are you a mind reader? You always seem to know what I’m thinking.” Minseok doesn’t even bother to give his half-hearted joke a wry grin, and Jongdae doesn’t bother with pretending to go along with it.

“So,” Jongdae begins after their food arrives. Minseok makes an attempt at pretending that he’s too busy eating to listen, but Jongdae gives him a pointed look and Minseok pushes his food away. “We’re going to talk anyways, even if you don’t want to.”

“Talk about what?” But he shouldn’t have even asked, Minseok realizes. They both know perfectly well that they both understand what’s going on in the conversation.

“Like opening your eyes and getting your act together. It’s been over a month, Minseok-ah. I’m not going to beat around the bush. Not everything is about—”

“Don’t.” The word comes out shaper than intended, and several people at the surrounding tables crane their heads around to stare curiously at Minseok. He softens his voice as he stares down at his hands, fingers still stinging from the heat after the freezing cold outside. “I’m not so caught up. I’m fine, okay? There’s nothing to worry about.”

“From what I’ve seen every day, you don’t seem fine at all.” Jongdae gives a disbelieving snort but lets Minseok eat for a while, as a silence grows between them like a widening gap. When Minseok is finally done with his lunch, Jongdae heaves a sigh and taps the edge of his spoon against the mug of his coffee. “Are you still going to sing?”

Minseok’s hands freeze in midair from setting his mug down onto the table. A pause ensues—Jongdae staring at Minseok with the hints of a challenge in his eyes, Minseok trying to look away without revealing anything. He finally stands up and gives a vague shrug. “Thanks for the coffee and lunch, Jongdae. I appreciate it.”

Jongdae lets him walk away without answering the question. Maybe it’s because they both know Minseok isn’t quite ready to answer it yet. Maybe it’s because they both know Minseok doesn’t want to answer it yet.

A month passed, with summer blossoming in between spring as the days got longer and warmer. Luhan’s Korean improved tremendously, but the naïveté that shone in his eyes never disappeared, the enthusiasm with which he always walked around with that made him immensely popular with everyone he met. At first, Minseok was afraid he would lose Luhan to the crowd of people who always surrounded him—Minseok was more of a loner, hanging at the sides and more interested in the notes dotted on his sheet music than the words flowing around him. But Luhan always ended up finding Minseok in the midst of the crowds so that they could escape to the music room and spend afternoons singing and playing.

That day, Luhan didn’t seem to be in the mood to sing for once. He wandered around the music room, singing half-heartedly as Minseok tried his best to keep up with his half-mumbles at times. Finally, Minseok called it quits and sat down beside Luhan, who was currently slouched against the wall. “What’s wrong? You seem down.”

For a moment, it seemed as if Luhan would merely brush him off, but then Minseok heard a quiet sigh as Luhan shrugged. “Do you know why I transferred to Yonsei?”

“You mentioned DBSK, and you really want to enter this competition. You came here to be scouted as an idol?”

“Yeah, a singer. I’ve always loved music, and DBSK is my favorite band.” Luhan gave a wry smile and laughed slightly. “I had so many arguments with my parents, you know. For the longest time they opposed my dream—they thought I would never make it, and that it was pointless to chase something so unreachable. But look where I am. I’ve gotten further than they ever thought I would. But today…today, I’m just thinking of all the possibilities in which I could fail. What would I do then? Go back home to hear everyone around me tell me that they knew I would fail all along?”

“You’ve got so much dedication, though. You won’t fail, I promise. We’ll be the best, remember?” Minseok looked down at his hands, away from Luhan’s gaze. He didn’t think he would be able to say anymore if Luhan kept on watching him in all his sincerity. “I don’t have nearly that much resolve or dedication. I…I used to want to be an idol too. I used to sing all the time. But people told me I was bad at it, and that I would never be able to perform. So I gave up and turned to piano because I didn’t think I was good enough.” I still don’t think I’m good enough.

“But you are—”

“What are you going to do once you become an idol?” Minseok cut in, looking up and back into Luhan’s gaze. “They’re definitely going to scout you, not me. My dream isn’t about singing anymore, it’s piano. Will you leave me then to pursue your own path? You’re going to have to move away, because I’ll never be able to sing as an idol.”

“Silly Minseok. Why would I ever leave you? We’ll be idols together, in the same group. We can both achieve our dreams.”

But singing isn’t my dream anymore—at least, I try to convince myself it’s not, Minseok wanted to retort, but something about Luhan’s smile made him close his mouth and keep quiet. Something about Luhan’s smile made Minseok lose his breath and suddenly realize that it wasn’t merely admiration that was making his insides flutter like butterflies and the way the sunlight streaming through the window made Luhan’s dyed blonde hair a golden halo.

The music room is open when Minseok walks back onto campus, so he sneaks in quietly and sits at the piano bench to practice the piece he’s currently working on. Eyes closed, he begins playing, only to stop halfway and open his eyes again because instead of the Liszt caprice lingering in the air, all Minseok hears is the intro to Love in the Ice.

He draws his fingers away from the piano, hands shaking. It’s going to haunt him for the rest of his life. He knows it will.

Competition day arrived too quickly for Minseok’s comfort, sneaking in on them before he had even opened his eyes and prepared himself. The week before the event was a flurry of practicing and preparations, until the final day dawned upon them.

They arrived at the competition venue with an hour to go, Luhan uncharacteristically quiet and Minseok playing the same chords over and over again in the air so that he wouldn’t mess up. They signed in at the register, then made their way to the waiting room with the other participants. The air was heavy with an atmosphere with nervousness mixed with excitement—everywhere Minseok looked, there were people singing or listening to their music, tapping out rhythms onto their chairs as they rocked back and forth with eyes closed, seemingly cut off from the rest of the world.

Luhan passed him the schedule of performances; they were somewhere in the middle—not the best spot for performing, and Minseok’s stomach clenched at the bad luck. The minutes seemed to drag on forever as they sat in the waiting room in silence, too nervous to talk to each other, too focused on watching the competition and wondering if they were better.  

Finally, it was their turn. Luhan turned to Minseok, opening his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. But Minseok understood, so he reached for Luhan’s hand and squeezed it gently.

I promised myself—

They walked onto the stage, under the bright lighting that seemed to blur everything around them except for each other. The judges were a faint spot in the horizon, along with the audience. Minseok thought he heard clapping, but wasn’t sure what it was for. Everything was like a dream, a long-forgotten hope he had cherished for years before burying away. This was it, this was something he had always wanted to do, yet he had never thought he would achieve it like this.

—that if we made it past this stage—

He played the first few notes of the intro, waiting for Luhan to come in. Months of practice slipped in and from then on, it was all a flourish of music and blurs until Minseok found himself playing the last few chords, the notes lingering in the auditorium for a few seconds before the entire audience gave a standing ovation that deafened Minseok. He felt himself being led backstage by Luhan, eyes dizzy with the bright lights of the stage and the faces of cheering people all around them.

“We did great,” Luhan beamed, leading Minseok to an empty seat as they waited for the rest of the performers to go. The minutes ticked by, one after another. Minseok was beginning to have doubts—they had gone in the middle of the competition, which meant that it was very likely for the judges to forget what they had done. Luhan still didn’t speak much, and instead listened to music on his phone while Minseok stared down at the piano sheet music he had brought to practice for class.

Finally, after what seemed like forever waiting in nervous apprehension, the last competitors walked backstage and the judges announced that they would take a fifteen minute break to decide the winners. It was fifteen minutes of apprehension, a nervous twisting in Minseok’s stomach, before Minseok heard one of the judges announce that she would be calling out the winners.

–I’d tell Luhan that—

“The duet from Yonsei University, Lu—”

“We’re the only group from Yonsei,” was the only thing Minseok heard from Luhan, then everything was a blaze of confusion and Luhan hugging him tightly, looking like he was about to cry; Luhan spinning Minseok around in excited yells of joy, Luhan grasping Minseok’s shoulders, Luhan leaning forward and kissing Minseok on the lips where something that felt like a spark seemed to collide and envelop them.

—I really like him.

He’s hurrying down the hallway, trying to avoid lingering by the music room for too long in case he recalls the haunting tune again, when he hears someone singing inside. Mystified by the voice, he peeks through the door, only to step back in shock as he realizes who the person inside is. His watch beeps and he hurries away, not wanting to be late for class, yet still feeling startled by his realization.

He hadn’t known. But then, he had never paid that much attention.

Summer was in full bloom that year—lazy days with cloudless blue skies and the warm scent of sun and the hints of something about to happen. Jongdae announced loudly that he was going to find a new roommate next year after Luhan had popped up in front of their dorm room for the fifth day in a row.

“Just go get an entire room to yourselves,” he huffed when he found Luhan and Minseok on the couch together, flipping through the TV channel in search of something good to watch. “I knew Minseok was obsessed about you, but—”

“Hey, when did I ever mention Luhan to you?” Minseok shot at him. Jongdae’s brows furrowed and he shrugged.

“Eh, maybe once or twice. Which means you were obsessed, because you never talk to me about anyone. Ever. No doubt that if you two hadn’t gotten together at the competition you’d be crying to me over ice cream about your unrequited love.” Jongdae turned away and waved a casual hand. “I’m going out for a while. Enjoy yourselves, but don’t do anything that’ll defile the dorm room okay?”

“Doesn’t Jongdae want to watch TV with us?” Luhan asked, but Minseok shook his head. Jongdae always left the dorm whenever Luhan came by, almost as if he was avoiding them.

“You snuck into the dorm at three in the morning yesterday just to say hi,” he pointed out. “Jongdae might be slightly sleep deprived and not so happy about that.”

“I don’t think he likes watching us,” Luhan mused, then suddenly switched the subject as Minseok changed the channel. “You’re sitting too far away. Come on, Minseok-ah, it’s cold over here.”

“It’s the middle of summer and the air conditioner isn’t working. How is it cold? I’m not sitting next to you because it’ll be too warm,” Minseok grumbled, but he sidled up and let Luhan rest his head upon his shoulder anyway. “I swear, you’re trying to buy my love by making me do all these things in return for what you’ve done.”

He meant it as a joke, laughing lightly afterwards as he continued switching TV channels, but Luhan seemed to freeze up. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” Running Man was airing when he switched the channel again. He pushed the remote away and sank into the couch to enjoy the show. “It was a joke. I just realized that I have no idea what I would have done if I hadn’t met you. You’ve done so much for me, Luhan-ah.”

Something funny happened on the TV screen, and Minseok could hear the laughter in the background, but Luhan was steadfastly staring back at him. “I haven’t done much at all, really.”

“I told you before, I dreamed of being a singer once. But I didn’t think I’d be able to do anything until you came along.” Minseok frowned, Running Man forgotten despite the loud shouting emitting from the TV.

Luhan laughed this time, reaching forward to brush his fingers lightly against Minseok’s hair and face, before leaning in to kiss him chastely against his lips. “Silly, silly Minseokie,” he whispered when he drew back, “You sing beautifully. You’re always good enough.”

“I suppose.” Minseok leaned away and returned to staring at the TV screen. “Oh, look, this week’s Running Man looks interesting. Let’s watch it all before Jongdae comes back.”

After Luhan had kissed him backstage of the competition venue, Minseok had been in a daze until they found themselves outside, an hour after they had won, standing next to each other in the dark without anyone else around. It was an awkward silence for several minutes, as Minseok stared down at his shoes and tried not to think about anything while Luhan made several attempts to speak and then seemed to give up.

“So, when does the bus come?” Minseok finally blurted out the same time as Luhan said, “Will you go out with me?”

They turned around to stare at each other for a few seconds. “Sorry, what?” Minseok asked lamely, even though he was pretty sure they both knew perfectly well what Luhan had just said.

“The bus comes in about ten minutes,” Luhan mumbled, turning away to face the street again. “That’s all.”

“No, you said something else,” Minseok managed, and he reached for Luhan’s hand. “I’ll pretend I heard you say it. You kissed me anyway, so you can’t really hide it, right? My answer is yes.”

Luhan’s smile had been dazzling, as they walked onto the bus when it came and sat down next to each other, their legs bumping into each other throughout the entire ride, hands secretively clasped together. Yet Minseok had the feeling of grasping something within the spaces between his fingers that would slip away, like grains of sand counting down time, the moment he stopped paying attention.

The professor reminds them of the class competition and the auditions again, and someone nudges Minseok to ask cautiously, “Hey, Minseok, are you still going to sing?”

He shakes his head and turns away to pay attention to the professor instead. I’m not good enough. I’ll never be good enough. Not by myself.

Minseok marked out a large red circle around the date on his calendar when Luhan burst through his door, yelling that the competition date was coming up. Autumn was turning the trees outside to golden leaves lining up the pathways all across campus and the days were getting colder and shorter. They spent whatever spare time they had practicing for the national competition, rearranging harmonies and combining melodies.

When Luhan corrected Minseok’s tone for the fifth time, Minseok threw down his music, a little frustrated by the constant practicing and pressure of the competition. “I’m sorry I can’t sing as angelically or perfectly as you can, okay?”

“Hey, Minseok-ah? Are you okay? Do you want to rest?” Luhan stepped back, worry creasing his forehead as he looked back and forth from Minseok and the sheet music now scattered all over the floor. “Let’s take a break and then get back to practicing, okay?”

“Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Just go sing by yourself. I’m only bringing you down, and you’re just too nice to say it.” It came out angrier than he had meant for it to be, but once the words were out of Minseok’s mouth, he didn’t regret them. It was as if an entire lifetime of suppressed guilt and self-deprecation decided it was a good time now to burst out and scream at the entire world.

“Minseok-ah—”

“Shut up!” Minseok jerked away from Luhan’s outstretched fingers. “Don’t try to console me or anything. I’m only singing because you keep on telling me to sing, but I can tell you what’s going to happen. They’ll start laughing at me in the future, like they did before, and because you’re so stupidly determined to drag me along with you, they’ll laugh at you too. Just stop it now, Luhan. Do this yourself. Win this before I mess everything up like I always do.”

He tried to move away when Luhan reached for him again, but the piano bench got in the way and Luhan had his arm around him before Minseok can get away. “Shh,” Luhan whispered as he patted Minseok gently, and Minseok almost pushed him away because Luhan didn’t even sound angry, just resigned as he continued hugging Minseok. But when Luhan kissed Minseok’s forehead, something wet touched Minseok’s face and Minseok realized that Luhan was crying, for him.

“Stupid, don’t cry for me,” he mumbled as Luhan hugged him tighter, but Minseok let himself stop fighting, and just leaned against Luhan as they stood there in the silence. Don’t cry over me for something like this.

“Then don’t lie,” Luhan responded after a while, and Minseok could only nod, but even that was a lie.

Minseok only hears about the class competition a few weeks later when Jongdae stops him halfway through his walk towards the kitchen that morning. “Did you know that the class competition is tonight?”

“Oh, really?” Minseok pauses only for a few seconds to reflect upon Jongdae’s words. It’s true that the professor has been reminding the class frequently of the competition, but since Minseok had no interest in entering, he hadn’t bothered remembering the date of the actual competition. “What about it?”

“Nothing,” Jongdae says, then turns away. “I don’t need coffee this morning. Just go to class, okay?”

The day drags by slowly, and an uncomfortable lump in Minseok’s throat that makes it hard for him swallow seems to form after Jongdae’s talk. He gets back from his classes only to find Jongdae off on some errand or other, and the dorm room empty. It’s raining outside, the winter snow melting away as the sky pours out torrents of tears and splatters against the windows. It’s not a day for feeling good about anything, so Minseok curls up on his bed, tries to ignore the uncomfortable fact about the competition nagging him at the back of his mind, and listens to the pattering rain.

“What are you doing?” Jongdae appears in front of him after about half an hour, hair wet and messed up as if he had just gotten back to the dorm from running in the rain, and pushes Minseok off the bed. “Never mind—I expected you to be like this. Are you just going to lie here like a potato and wallow away in your misery? Let’s go.”

“Go? Go where?” Minseok asks, dazed by Jongdae’s sudden entrance as he lets himself be pulled away and out of his room. “What’s going on?”

“I already told you this morning,” Jongdae says shortly as he pushes Minseok out the door and takes out an umbrella. “The class competition is today. We’re going to watch it, no matter how much you don’t want to. It’s time for you to face reality.”

Four in the morning, Minseok woke up to the ringtone on his phone blasting out into his ear. He reached out sleepily, rubbing his eyes blearily as he stifled a yawn. “Hello? Luhan?”

The voice on the other end of the line crackled. The signal in the dorm room had always been bad. “Hello? I am using Luhan-sshi’s phone to call you, since you’re the first number on his contact list. I am sorry to say—“

They arrive at the competition venue despite Minseok’s numerous protests, Jongdae keeping a tight grip on his arm in case Minseok tries to run off. When Minseok sees the competition venue, a burning feeling starts to make its way down his throat, but Jongdae pulls him almost roughly inside the auditorium and pushes him into a seat. “Don’t even think about running away during the middle of the performance.”

The lights dim and one by one, Minseok’s classmates come on stage to perform their pieces. Halfway through the performances, Minseok catches himself thinking that he and Luhan could have been much, much better, and the burning feeling returns immediately. It’s about the singing, Minseok realizes as he watches the girl on stage trip over her words out of a clear case of nerves. He’s fallen in love with singing, not only because of Luhan, but because he’s always known in some part of him that singing is what he wants to do.

But he’s forgotten how to sing by himself. He can only remember what it feels like to sing with Luhan, and he can never sing with Luhan again.

The competition ends with a smattering of applause and the judges announce someone as the winner—who it is, Minseok doesn’t pay any attention to. He runs out before Jongdae can catch up to him, leaving his roommate in the crowd behind him as he sprints back to the dorm, fighting tears and the rain trickling down his face.

He hears Jongdae open the dorm door some time later, and footsteps cross the front of Minseok’s room. There’s a heavy pause, then the footsteps fade away and Minseok buries his face into his arms and continues to cry over the reality he had never wanted to face.

 “—that Luhan-sshi was a recent victim of a car accident and I am sorry to inform you that by the time the ambulance arrived, it was too late to save him. We are very sorry for your loss.”

Monday morning, Minseok wakes up to the persistent beeping of his alarm clock, vision blurred in the hazy light of morning filtering through the curtains. He hits the snooze button and dresses almost instinctively, mechanically pulling on his clothes and brushing his teeth. The pages of the calendar on his desk flutter when Minseok’s fingers brush across them as he walks past his desk, revealing a smudge of red marker on one of the pages.

He doesn’t protest when Jongdae shows up during lunchtime, drags him into the cafe, and forces him to sit down. The snow is beginning to melt, clearing up the pathways and the world is beginning to breathe easier now, casting away the chains of its frozen winter.

“I didn’t know you could sing so well,” Minseok begins the conversation, as Jongdae busies himself with contemplating the menu. “I didn’t know you could sing at all, actually. Were you pretending you couldn’t sing all those times we went out for karaoke back in freshman year?”

Jongdae pauses in his perusal of the sandwich section and Minseok can tell he’s surprised him. “How did you know I can sing?”

“I heard you singing several weeks ago, when I was passing through the hallway of the music department. I was startled to see you.”

“Hm.” Jongdae didn’t answer for a few moments as he passed the menu to Minseok. “You know,” he finally said, “Luhan would have wanted you to continue singing, you know. You’re not stealing his dream if you continue singing.”

“Because it’s me, or because he would actually want me to sing for the sake of singing?” Minseok retorts back, but he keeps the bite off his words because even though he won’t admit it, he understands Jongdae is trying his best to help him. Jongdae has always tried his best to help Minseok, no matter what.

“If Luhan hadn’t asked you first, I would have asked if you wanted to sing with me. Because you sing very well, Minseok-ah.” Jongdae always knows his favorite brand of coffee, his favorite foods, whatever Minseok likes to do and whatever Minseok hates. Jongdae knows Minseok better than Minseok knows himself. Their eyes meet across the table for a split second, and a vague realization clicks in Minseok’s mind.

But Jongdae is already standing up, even though they haven’t even ordered lunch yet. “Sorry, I just remembered that I have an appointment. I’ll pay for lunch if you want. Just tell me afterwards. But just because Luhan’s gone doesn’t mean he’s not there for you. He’ll always be there for me. And so will I. So believe in yourself a little more, okay?”

He leaves the cafe, and the swinging door to the entrance brings in a breeze of something warm, like soothing coffee and the beginnings of hope, and something broken that has been taped back together again.

Tuesday morning, Minseok dresses hurriedly, ignores Jongdae when he rushes past him, and sprints all the way to the music theory lecture hall before coming to a halt in front of his professor. Before the professor can say anything, he wheezes out, “The auditions for SM Entertainment are still open, right? May I see the form? I want to sign up.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t achieve your dream, Luhan-ah.”

Luhan is waiting for him, smiling gently, when Minseok climbs up the stairs to the audition venue, even though Minseok knows that he’s merely imagining things. But he smiles back anyways and follows Luhan through the entrance and into the waiting room. Spring is in every breathe the world inhales and exhales out now, the winter snow melting away as pastel colors wash Minseok’s doubts and sorrows away.

A judge is waiting for Minseok when he’s called into the room along with the rest of his audition group, but Luhan merely laughs and Minseok doesn’t feel nervous at all. “This is goodbye for real, all right?” Luhan says, “but I’m always with you in your thoughts and memories. Don’t ever forget, Minseok-ah. You can do it. I believe in you.”

Minseok opens his mouth to thank Luhan for everything he’s done and for helping him achieve his dream—and most of all, to apologize for everything, anything, but Luhan is already gone and Minseok has opened his eyes to realize that there is no Luhan anymore, that there will never be a Luhan again.

But this, time, it’s different, because Minseok has found a piece of himself to hold onto. It’s written in the smile Luhan gave him when he first asked him to sing a duo together. Silly, silly Minseokie, Luhan would say, it took you long enough to realize that you really are good enough. For everyone.

“Begin when you’re ready,” the judge prompts him, when the person standing next to him finishes her audition. “Please sing the part of your chosen song that you think expresses your abilities the best.”

So Minseok sings. 

written for certainangles@lj for the luhan fic exchange deerofdawn! infinite love to printedapples@lj for helping with plot and flow and stuff ehe okay i still can't believe i managed to write 7,600 words in one week for this oh god my writing skills have gotten so rusty idek what i'm doing anymore ;w;