The Fantaisie Impromptu was the last thing you'd be playing on the piano. 

After that, you'd never touch a single black, nor white, key ever again. 

You'd leave the piano industry, and never look back again. 

To you, you've stopped wanting to play since so long ago. 

Practices became daily routines that bored you. 

You didn't have the same apathy for the piano that you used to, when you were a little kid, and the keys were magically ten times larger than your fingers. 

The songs gradually became harder and harder as the years went by. 

Your parents didn't mind if you quit. 

It was just your grandmother. 

She loved listening to the piano and especially loved listening to you. 

"Heiran-ah, can you learn this song for me?" your grandmother asked, pulling out a piece of sheet music. 

You flipped through the pages, and then inspected the title. 

"Chopin's Fantaisie Impromptu? Why do you want to listen to this?" you asked, furrowing your brow, and eyeing her in confusion. 

She gave a gentle smile and replied, "I just like Chopin." 

"Okay...," you paused, flipping through the sheets again. "I'll learn this by next week, so please wait."

But that never happened. 

She fell ill that night, and shortly died soon after. 

But she left a letter for you, but you were instructed to not open it until after her funeral. 

You shrugged, and left it sitting on your desk. 

Her death was tragic; you felt like there was an empty void near you when you practiced that song. 

You decided to play it for her funeral. 

Then, you could finally quit. 

After so many years playing and playing, you could finally stop, and resume your life. 

You could finally hang out with your friends more, instead of practicing a song for multiple hours.

All you had to do was get through the week, and play at the funeral, and it was all over. 

 

You were walking home from school one day. 

Since you lived in a different direction from people, you walked alone. 

Today, you were walking rather slowly, looking at the ground and kicking your legs forward. 

You swung your bag around, not caring who you hit. 

"Hey, you." A mysterious voice called out to you. 

You stopped and turned back to see who it was. 

"Up here, darling." 

You moved your face up to face a tree. 

On a branch, stood a handsome man with long, jet black hair, and ebony pools of eyes. 

"What do you want?" you asked, your heart thumping for this guy. 

"Your hands." 

Okay, you just stood there frozen, confused at what he was saying to you. 

"What the? You're a creep." you narrowed your eyes and started to walk away. 

"No," he said, suddenly in front of you. 

You backed away in alarm. 

"Wh-what? But you were up there, and now you're here, and what?!" you said in panic. 

He chuckled lightly. 

"I'm a demon, miss." he said, smirking. 

"Wha...?" you asked, confused. 

"You know. A demon." he said again. 

You looked at him in disbelief.

"What's your name, miss?" he asked curiously, pushing his hand out for a shake. 

"Heiran... Jung Heiran," you replied, not daring to shake his outward hand. 

He chuckled a bit. 

"Beautiful name, beautiful lady. I'm Kim Jongwoon, but call me Yesung. Let me see your hands." he said, firmly putting out his hand.

"Um..." 

"Don't worry. I'm not dangerous." he smiled to you. 

Well, it wasn't that he was dangerous that scared you. 

More like his creepy personality, and how he was a demon. 

You couldn't help but believe him. 

"Heiran?" he raised an eyebrow, still keeping his hand out. 

"Oh, um, yes, hello," you said, flushed, shaking his hands. 

He looked at your long, delicate fingers and smirked. 

"May I take these hands, miss? They are so beautiful, fit for someone like you." he asked. 

"I need these hands." you replied, removing your hand away.

"What for?" he asked. 

"My grandmother's funeral..." you trailed off. 

Yesung laughed. 

"Ah, mortals. Such short lifespan. How long has your grandmother been living? Ninety? One hundred? I'm so much older than that," he laughed some more. 

You stared at him in disbelief. 

"You're crazy," you said quietly. 

"Am I? Am I really? Or is it you who's crazy?" he asked, inching closer and closer to you. 

You didn't reply. 

"Miss, you don't seem to understand how gorgeous your hands are. May I please have them?" he asked, his ebony irises locking with yours. 

You gulped. 

"After my grandmother's funeral," you managed to say. 

He frowned a bit, and you added, "It's only tomorrow. After that, you can have them all you want." 

Yesung then smirked. 

"Alright, Jung Heiran. But I'll be waiting. I'll be waiting very patiently." he said, and suddenly disappeared from your sight. 

What just happened? 

Well, you agreed to give a devil your hands. 

What did that even mean? 

You walked home, dazed, and prayed that the funeral would end up okay. 

Yet, the thing that disturbed you the most was his beauty. 

Clear eyes, strong gaze, muscular and broad shoulders. 

He had caught your attention - and he wasn't about to let go. 

 

The day of the funeral came. 

It was in a large meadow-like forest with trees circling the plain, grassy area. 

Flowers tipped from stems, and birds chirped all around. 

The whole scenery was beautiful, yet the air had a grave tension to it. 

You stood near a tree, watching your surroundings. 

It was about time for you go play the piano, and you took a deep breath, searching for the demon that caught your eye. 

Where was Yesung?

Didn't he want your hands? 

You shrugged. 

If he wanted them later on, he could have them.

It didn't matter anymore. 

After this, it could be all over. 

Everything. 

"Heiran, you're up," your umma called to you, and you nodded, flexing your fingers and taking another big breath. 

You looked at the audience as you walked to the piano. 

It wasn't a large crowd or anything, but these people were all your family members. 

Some were crying, some starting to tear up, and some just sitting there motionless. 

Sitting down, you pulled the seat closer to the keys, and calmed yourself down before starting. 

The piano was one of those old, brown ones that often had a homely sound to it. 

The keys were heavy weighted, but dropped easily, to your command. 

You put your last bit of emotion into this song; afterall, it would be the last one you played. 

When you were done, you closed the case of the piano slowly, savoring each second as they were your last. 

After taking a glance at the piano, you left, and when you were in a corner, leaning on a tree with your back, you heard him. 

"You play good, Heiran." 

Turning your head, you met his gaze. 

"Do you want my hands now?" you asked quietly. 

He gave a smile that had sympathy and pity in it. 

"Don't you want them?" he asked. 

You narrowed your eyes.

"What are you talking about, Yesung?" 

"...The songs you play are beautiful. I can tell you put a lot of emotion into them." he complimented. 

"Thank you." you replied evenly. 

"That's why I can't take your hands."

"What?" you looked at him with confusion. 

He gave a gentle smile, and didn't dare meet your gaze. 

"Heiran. I realized that I can't take those hands. They had produced so many emotions and touched not just keys. It touched hearts." 

You stared straight at him. 

"What are you trying to say?" you asked. 

"Didn't I explain it? I don't need your hands." he answered. 

"Why?" 

"Because I love your hands - and I love you." he smiled sadly at you. 

"...What...?" you said in a quiet voice, disbelief choking your throat. 

"I love you, Jung Heiran. I realized this when you were playing. Pathetic huh?" he chuckled a bit. 

"Yeah, it kind of is," you joked. "But no seriously, here are my hands." 

You pushed out your hands and he looked at you, amused. 

"Didn't I say I didn't want them?" 

"You were serious about that?" 

"Yeah," he laughed. "I was."

"Were you joking when you said you love me?" you asked. 

Yesung shook his head with a soft smile. 

Your eyes widened. 

"Y-You've probably said that to a million other girls." you scoffed, and turned to walk away. 

"No," he said. "Just you, Jung Heiran. Just you." 

Caught up with surprise and disbelief, you ran away, not  stopping to look back. 

He didn't chase you. 

 

That night, you opened the letter that your grandmother sent you. 

You unfolded the papers, and read through them wistfully. 

 

Dear My Beloved Heiran,

I am finally passing. Haha, I've lived my life well, don't you think? 

I have a great granddaughter whose piano playing skills are unmatched to any other. 

It makes me proud. 

Everyday, I listen to you, and I hear your emotions very well. 

I'm sorry Heiran, for my selfishness. 

Since I hear your emotions very well, I know. 

I know you don't have the same love for piano like I do. 

Like the you when you were younger. 

Your lack of love makes me sad... yet I still want to hear you play. 

I want you to know how important music is to you. 

So now, I'm sitting in heaven, listening to you and those keys. 

Yet, I hear nothing because you, I know, you've quit. 

Heiran, I'm not stupid. 

I know you'd quit. 

Yet, there's that little voice in my head, and my heart, that tell me that you aren't quitting for the rest of your life. 

So please, prove that voice right...

I'll always be watching over you, Heiran. 

Count on it. 

And I'll be watching that man that watches over you too. 

I hope it'll be a man that you're fond of. 

Well, Heiran, I've gone on too much. 

It's time for me to say good bye, and good luck. 

Your years are just beginning. 

I wish you eternal happiness. 

- Your Halmoni

You read that letter, tearing up. 

You spent that night crying your eyes out. 

 

Three years have passed since that incident. 

You have quit piano and although you still had your skills, you never tried to hone them even more. 

Now, you were a fledging university kid. 

There were days when you just look at your hands, wiggle your fingers, and think of Yesung. 

It made your heart ache a bit, and when you saw those couples that were so clingy towards each other, you'd tend to feel a pang in your chest. 

You walked home one day. 

It was the same as that day three years ago. 

You were carefree, and kicked your legs in front of each other, swinging your purse. 

"Hey Heiran." 

You knew that voice. 

You just didn't dare to turn your head.

You just stopped. 

"Heiran-ah, why don't you answer me?" It was a coy voice. 

Handsome, deep, and just right enough for it to sound so attractive. 

"Yesung..." you whispered, tears making your voice choke. 

He suddenly appeared in front of you smiling. 

You looked at him in disbelief, but jumped into his chest, crying. 

"I...missed you so much," you admitted, as he through your hair. 

"There, there, don't cry, I'm right here..." he said softly and gently. 

You sniffled, and looked up at him, mesmerized at his ebony eyes staring down at you. 

"Do you still want my hands...?" you asked, teary. 

He chuckled slightly. 

"Of course. I want your hand...in marriage." he smirked. 

Your eyes grew wide. 

He pulled out a box from his coat pocket, and kneeled down, opening the small, square box. 

"For you, Jung Heiran. I love you with all my heart, and these three years have been a wreck for me. Well, three years, a day, two hours, five hours, and continuing seconds." he smiled. 

You put your hands to your mouth to cover your surprise. 

"And for you, Jung Heiran, I'm willing to settle down. It's been a long time that I've been roaming this Earth. And there's no where I'd rather be, than with you. I want to see you grow more and more each day, and I want to be with you, while you're at that. There's also another thing I want from you."

"What is it?" you managed to ask. 

"Your music. I want to hear it all the time. I want to know your emotions. When you're sad, play for me. When you're happy, play for me. When you're in love, play for me." he chuckled a bit. "And Jung Heiran, I want to be the reason why you look forward to playing. I want to be why you think that practicing is more than just practicing." 

You looked at him in shock. 

"So Jung Heiran, will you marry me, and be with me for the rest of your life?" he smiled honestly, his eyes filled with hope and kindness. 

You nodded, incapable of words. 

He slipped a silver ring on your left ring finger and admired it. 

"You have beautiful fingers," he noticed. "I hope I get to see them play for me everyday."

When he stood up, you pulled him for a hug, your face in his chest. 

He chuckled. 

"Are you happy?" he asked. 

You nodded. 

"I'll be happy forever," you said breathlessly. "You're by my side." 

 

The rest of your years were enlightening. You played for him everyday, and it was true, what he said. No practices were ever boring for you anymore, and you looked forward to each and everyone of them. 

You finally had a reason to play again. 

You finally had that beautiful demon.