The sun is already peeking on the horizon now and Jiyong still haven’t sleep yet. Smoking on the balcony, he’s looking at the beautiful colour palette that spread above him. Dark blue, violet, peach and slight orange with some white patches so translucent it’s almost not there. It calms him. He likes it. He likes to see the sky, the world, to relinquish the fact there are broad and vast land that full with life and live out there. In fact, he likes it too much, he never closed his apartment’s curtains. it’s silly, he knows, because all he sees from inside the apartment are the neat placed brown bricks from building across, not the sky. But still, it makes him feel alive, to see another living thing around him, to listen, to feel, to merge with outside world even just from visual sense.

Exhaling the smokes, he’s smiling, cherishing the moment like this, out here on the balcony, with some early morning summer breeze caress his skin oh so gently letting his mind idling, removes any worries.

And then he hears it. There you are, jiyong thinks. Someone that he also cherish. Someone that he also adores and waiting for every day. The pianist.

Notes following after notes. It’s the sound of piano playing from the building across him, tenth story only one floor above him. In the city that still hushing, the melodies that come from that room feel so loud yet so haunting, lingering , echoing in space between two buildings.

Without realising, his lips spread to smile. Today’s composition is the pianist new piece, he never heard of it before.  and it’s so calming, it makes him think about how’s the pianist might be just woke up from really peaceful-tight-sleep to have this gorgeous melodies out from their fingertips. Several repetitive notes meet with some notes higher. One part is jumpy, one part is lazy. Harmonizing, fits, familiar with one and another. Re..la..re..do..la..re..do.. jiyong closes his eyes and listening to it intently, cigarette left hanging, ignored grey ashes drops to the floor.

Seconds passed to minutes. Minutes passed to hours. He doesn’t how long he’s sitting there, but now the sun is already shining brightly. He knows because from his closed eyes he sees that his eyelids are not black anymore, it’s rather red. Maybe it’s from the thin flesh that become transparent because of the sunlight, or maybe it’s from his imagination. Jiyong starts stretching while standing. He yawns and walks inside because his bed is calling him.

Jiyong throws his body to the smooth and soft bed with his face first right to the pillow. Can’t breathe, he flipped himself and staring at the ceiling. Jiyong can’t not thinking about the pianist then, like usual. Working as a music producer, he met and shakes-hand with new music and new talents every day. And the melodies that come from ‘that’ room are always delicious, jiyong can’t help but curious. Days after days, weeks after weeks, he listened to the melodies that comes from piano tuts that the pianist touched and then touched his heart. Sometimes it’s so gentle and relaxing, sometimes it’s dark and anguish, sometimes it’s happy and jolly, and sometimes it’s stopped abruptly in the middle and ended with piano keys angrily smashed together.  It’s so frustrating thinking about the frustration that the pianist might be experiencing to produced that kind of frustrated sound. Usually after he heard that, jiyong imagined himself to fly over there, to open the window and slide inside, to hug the pianist, to whisper that everything will be okay.

Sighs. Jiyong can’t help but asks, What kind of person the pianist is? What kind of day the pianist have? Does the pianist have a mind as beautiful as his music? Does the pianist want to become his friend? Does the pianist want to play piano for him every day for the rest of his life? And then jiyong sleeps, fall into deep slumber.