Junmyeon walks up to the apartment with a Not Impressed face. Even the apartment building is Not Impressive.

The thing is, Junmyeon doesn’t need supplemental lessons. Especially not from a college student who can’t even wipe all that dust from his doorbell or water the obviously dying plants.

The door opens with an unpleasant creak, and Junmyeon raises his head, expecting to see a student with greasy hair and tattoos, earphones in while shuffling in his pajamas to awful music. Okay, maybe that’s exaggerating a bit.

But Junmyeon definitely doesn’t expect to see someone this beautiful, golden brown hair skimming over expressively dark eyes and ethereal cheekbones with a slope that has to defy the laws of nature. Junmyeon swallows around a dry throat. This has to be his soon-to-be teacher’s roommate, right?

“Junmyeon?” the person says, and even his voice is beautiful.

Junmyeon smiles and waves his hand awkwardly. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Come in.” He steps to the side to allow Junmyeon in, closing the door. Junmyeon still doesn’t know his name, just his email address, and somehow, he kind of doubts that chenup719 is anything close to this person’s actually name.

Junmyeon steps out of his shoes, arranging them neatly in the corner and eyeing the pairs of scuffed sneakers with distaste. Somehow, he doesn’t think that dyeing Nike’s an obnoxious color of vivid pink is counted as “artistic liberties.”

“I’m Jongdae,” he says, and he starts walking towards a piano in the corner of the living room. Junmyeon follows, sitting on the bench beside him and observing the pictures and random objects arranged on the piano. “What pieces are you working on?”

There are three that Junmyeon’s teacher had asked him to work on, and Junmyeon shows Jongdae the sheet music, the pages stuffed into a paper folder and covered with penciled notes and highlighted sections.

“I remember this one,” Jongdae says, looking down at one of them. “I think Ms. Choi makes all of her students do this piece.”

Junmyeon wrinkles his nose, and Jongdae laughs at him. His laugh is mesmerizing, ringing bright and clear in the air.

“Do you want to start with the scales?”

“Okay.” Junmyeon raises the piano’s cover and removes the red velvet cloth. He runs a hand over the smooth black and white keys, practically spotless in the light. Even his own piano isn’t this clean.

He runs through the G scale, fingers faltering only momentarily. He does his best to cover it up, feeling his skin prickling nervously from Jongdae’s steady gaze.

 It’s only after he starts his first piece that Jongdae finally speaks, and Junmyeon abruptly stops playing to listen.

“You need to play with more confidence,” he says, and points at the measure where Junmyeon had stopped. “It’s forte here, but you’re not nearly loud enough. There needs to be more contrast between the forte and the piano.” He plays the part, and Junmyeon tries to focus on how his hands are moving, not the way they’re sitting so close together that every movement causes their arms to brush together. It’s normal for the teacher to demonstrate during lessons, but Junmyeon doesn’t remember is teacher being this close, and he certainly has never felt this distracted.

“See?” Jongdae says, and Junmyeon realizes with a start that he hadn’t been paying attention. “It’s the same piano, but there’s a lot of difference in the sound you can make.”

The rest of the lesson continues similarly. Jongdae stresses the importance of the difference in volume, and he also picks up the irregularities in Junmyeon’s tempo. He doesn’t allow the slightest mistake to pass, insisting that Junmyeon repeat the section several times.

“You’ll only remember it if you practice,” he says, and Junmyeon plays the measure several times, and then goes back a few measures before to connect that section with the rest of the piece.

Junmyeon was very skeptical about taking lessons from someone only a few years older than he is, but he’s grudgingly respecting Jongdae. Jongdae doesn’t offer praise often, and the advice he offers makes sense. He does change the s a few times, though, and insists that Junmyeon try them several times.

“It’ll make it easier,” he says.

He’s not particularly patient, either. When Junmyeon fumbles a few times during his first try, he nudges Junmyeon’s arm.

“It’s like this, you have to shift here.” He demonstrates, but there’s obvious agitation in his voice and his eyebrows are furrowed.

It takes several tries for Junmyeon to get it right, and several more for him to memorize it.

There are times when Junmyeon thinks that Jongdae’s annoyed, but he doesn’t raise his voice. It simmers below the surface, but before Junmyeon can pinpoint it, Jongdae smiles and congratulates him for getting the section right.

Junmyeon still isn’t convinced that getting another teacher is a good idea, but they do make pretty good practice on the piece. Jongdae helps him through some parts that he’d been having trouble with, demonstrating and getting him to practice it until it meets his expectations.

It’s not that Jongdae is necessarily bad; he just doesn’t seem used to being a teacher. His playing is really good, if Junmyeon’s any judge, but this is probably his first time having to instruct someone. But although he seems agitated when Junmyeon doesn’t pick it up immediately, he does have the patience to ask Junmyeon to keep repeating a part several times.

By the end, Junmyeon’s sheet music is covered with little notes and bracketed sections to look at during his private practice time. He’s somewhat tired by the end, but it’s a good feeling, and there’s a sense of accomplishment as their lesson ends. It was a good lesson, despite Junmyeon’s earlier misgivings and the random moments when he would space out.

The spacing out doesn’t happen often. There are moments when he’s so transfixed in staring at Jongdae’s hands that he doesn’t notice that Jongdae has stopped playing. But it isn’t often, and after a while, Junmyeon can ignore the warmth of Jongdae’s thigh pressed against his own.

The hour ends soon, though, and Jongdae stands as they reach the end of the section.

“That’s enough for today,” he says, and Junmyeon stands as well, closing the piano lid and gathering his music sheets.

It’s only then that he realizes how hungry he is. It’s already seven, and he hadn't had time to eat before he’d come over.

“Will this be enough?” he asks, handing Jongdae a few bills. It’s not quite as much as he pays his usual teacher, but they hadn't negotiated a price yet.

Jongdae counts through them quickly. “Yeah, it’s fine.” He pockets the bills before he turns to Junmyeon again. Up close, his eyes are mesmerizing, framed by long lashes, and Junmyeon can’t bring himself to look away. It’s incredibly distracting, but he also doesn’t have an excuse to look away, so he fidgets slightly but maintains eye contact.

“You did well today,” Jongdae says, one of the few words of praise he’d spoken since the beginning of the lesson. He hadn't really focused on Junmyeon’s strengths, just nodding when he finally got a part right, so the sentence, however short, is oddly satisfying. “Same time next week?”

“Okay.” It’s pretty late, and through the window, Junmyeon can see that it’s already dark, but it’s the only time that they’re both free. “If it’s not too much trouble?”

“It’s not.” Jongdae grins, and wow his smile is really attractive and Junmyeon probably doesn’t have an excuse to stare that intently. “I usually just go drinking with my friends on weekend nights.”

“Oh. I’m sorry for taking up your time,” Junmyeon says hesitantly, unsure how formally he should speak to Jongdae. They were only a few years apart, but Jongdae is also his teacher. It’s all very confusing, but Jongdae only smiles wider.

“I still have Saturday nights. And alcohol leads to early deaths. Don’t drink when you go into college,” Jongdae adds, but there’s a playful light in his eyes.

“I won’t,” Junmyeon says. He hadn't really been planning on doing so anyway.

“Good.” Jongdae reaches out to ruffle Junmyeon’s hair, laughing when Junmyeon tries to duck away. “Do you need a ride home?”

“No, it’s okay. I can take the bus back home.” It’s not the best form of transportation, but it’s cheap and convenient. “Thank you for your time today.”

“You don’t have to use such formal language.” Jongdae walks Junmyeon to the door, standing beside him patiently as Junmyeon pulls his shoes on. “I’ll see you next week, okay?”

“Bye.” Junmyeon steps out of the apartment, waving over his shoulder as he walks away.

Maybe Jongdae’s apartment itself isn’t so impressive, but Jongdae is impressive, and his piano playing really is no joke. Junmyeon thinks, as he walks towards the bus stop and sits down on an empty bench, that he wouldn’t mind going back for another lesson. He hums the song softly under his breath as he waits for the bus. Maybe, one day, he’ll convince Jongdae to clean his apartment and water his plants.

A/N: I don't actually play the piano, so if there are any inaccuracies, mention it in the comments.