It was on a cool overcast weekday afternoon when Kyuhyun and his parents walked into the barber shop, all dressed in dark formal attire. The family quietly took off their respective coats and hung them up, looking downcast and somber; their silence only broken by Mrs. Cho’s occasional loud sniffs as she tried to suppress her tears. 

In the shop, the barber was in the middle of cheerfully cutting a customer’s hair, caught up in discussing the latest news, too busy to notice the presence of the Cho family. Their entrance, however, did not escape the eyes of his bored son, who immediately jumped off his little blue step stool and ran towards them. 

“Kyuhyunnie!” Ryeowook screeched as he jumped on the boy and gave him a tight hug. “I heard you missed me lots!” He clung onto Kyuhyun’s arm and started energetically chattering a mile a minute about his camp experience. 

Mr. Kim, having finally noted the family’s presence as well as their somber demeanor, excused himself from his customer and walked up behind his son, gently shushing him. 

“Hello, please take a seat.” He led the family over to the waiting area, Ryeowook in tow. Once they were comfortably seated, he continued on, “Is everything okay? Would you like some water or tissues?” 

Mrs. Cho sniffed, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. 

“My mother passed away several days ago. We’re going to the funeral soon,” she said solemnly, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Cho.” He looked at his son with a pointed glance, who then meekly parroted his father. 

“Were you close?” the barber asked. 

Mrs. Cho nodded. 

“Kyuhyunnie spent most of his afternoons there after school as we both work. Kyuhyunnie, you were close to grandma right?” 

Kyuhyun nodded, miserable. 

“Grandma made me lots of food and let me play lots and lots of games! I like grandma.” 

Mr. Kim knelt down and patted Kyuhyun’s head gently. 

“Well, I'm sure grandma is watching you from heaven, right?” 

The boy nodded, downcast. 

Mr. Kim stood back up and scanned the family for a few seconds before continuing on. 

“So how can I help you today?” he asked kindly. 

Mrs. Cho sniffed as she pulled a photo out of her purse, showing it to the barber. 

“Well, mother really liked Kyuhyun’s hairstyle from when he was a toddler. She would always put a little gold crown on his head and say he looked like a real royal prince. It was so sweet.” She smiled, reminiscing. “I was wondering if you could cut his hair to match this. Will it be okay?” 

The Kims studied the photo. Mr. Kim’s face was impassive but Ryeowook - the self-professed hairstyle snob - was having a hard time holding back his face of disapproval. A furtive glare from his father kept him quiet. 

“Sure, I can do this,” the barber said. “I'll just need several minutes to finish up with my current customer, all right?” 

Both parents nodded. 

“Just inform Ryeowookie if you need anything and he can get it for you. Right, Ryeowookie?” 

The boy nodded at his father and saluted. He turned around and sat down cross-legged on the carpet in front of the grieving family, intently staring at them as he cradled his head in his hands. There was a short period of silence, then: 

“My grandma makes yummy kimchi. Do you like kimchi? I can share my grandma with you,” chirped Ryeowook, trying to console the family the only way he knew how.

Mr. and Mrs. Cho smiled. 

“Thanks for offering Ryeowook-ah, but I think we're okay.” 

Ryeowook idled around for a bit, poking the ground, unsure what to do to make the family feel better. The silence dragged on, making him uncomfortable. He suddenly perked up. 

“Do you want some hotteok? Umma made hotteok and it's super amazing and delicious. Umma says that her hotteok is magical because it makes everybody happy.” 

Kyuhyun shook his head. 

“No, my grandma makes the best hotteok! It's better than your umma's and makes me more happy!” 

“Ehhh, does your grandma make it with red bean like umma?” Ryeowook smiled, happy that someone was finally talking to him. 

“No, just regular ones. But- but sometimes she makes me special ones with special sauce!” 

“What kind of special sauce, Kyuhyunnie?” Ryeowook cocked his head, curious. 

Kyuhyun looked thoughtful.

“I don’t know… But grandma says it’s special Prince Sauce because I’m PrinceKyu. It tastes gooood.” 

“That sounds delicious! I want to eat it!” 

“Oh, then you can come over after school and grandma can make it for you!” Kyuhyun said enthusiastically. "Grandma makes lots of delicious yummy foods and lets me play games when I'm eating too! I love grandma's fried chicken. It's so crispy. You have to try it too Ryeowookie!" 

There was a slight pause as Mrs. Cho started wiping the tears that had started falling from her eyes. 

“Kyuhyunnie dear, grandma can’t cook for you anymore. Grandma went to heaven, remember?” she said gently.

Kyuhyun looked crestfallen. 

“Oh yeah, I forgot,” he whispered, then lapsed into morose silence. 

Ryeowook observed the distraught family closely, seeing Mrs. Cho's eyes filled with tears, Mr. Cho absently staring at the floor and Kyuhyun with his hand on his stomach, pouting heavily. He decided he needed to do something to make them feel better. 

“Do you miss your grandma?” he asked. 

Kyuhyun nodded slowly, disheartened. 

Ryeowook swayed from side-to-side, feeling self-conscious. 

“Um, can- can I sing for you?” He mumbled quietly. 

“Sorry, what did you say Ryeowookie?” Mr. Cho asked. 

“Um, can I sing for you? When I was at camp, I heard a song I really liked. Appa told me the song is about missing someone. So I thought you will like it too and maybe it’ll help you feel better!” His eyes glowed with hope. 

“Thank you Ryeowook-ah,” replied Mrs. Cho. “We’d love to hear you sing for us.” 

Ryeowook nodded and stood up. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and started singing in a high, clear voice. 

A warm wind is blowing like it was that night
The flowers you lovingly planted have bloomed
Before I know it spring has come again
I still want to deeply sleep like it’s winter...

Mrs. Cho started bawling into her handkerchief. Mr. Cho hugged her, trying to comfort her as he attempted to hide his own tear-filled eyes. Kyuhyun sat frozen in his chair, eyes wide and fixed upon Ryeowook, enchanted by his friend’s voice. 

You are so very far, so very far
To be honest I miss you every day
Even the very small, very small trivial things
make me think of you every day

Your comforting scent fills the room
in the flowers scattered around
Because I’m afraid one day I won’t be able to feel it
I want to take hold of even the air that you were in… (x)

Midway through the song, Ryeowook peeked through one eye, quickly noticing the family's state. He stopped singing abruptly, dejected.

“…Was it bad?” He looked worriedly at his distressed audience, afraid that he had done something wrong. “I’m sorry,” he finished quietly. The boy took several steps back and was just about to go run to his father when Mrs. Cho sprung out of her seat, gently wrapping her arms around him, hugging him tightly. 

“Thank you, my dear. It was perfect. Thank you very very much,” she said, her voice thick with emotion as she let go. 

Ryeowook smiled widely in response, happy that his performance was appreciated. 

“Kyuhyunnie, are you ready for your haircut?” Mr. Kim said absentmindedly as he approached the waiting area, patting his son’s head. He then noticed the family’s discomfort. 

“Do you need some time?” he asked, panicked, as he passed around a box of tissues. “Or maybe some water or some tea?” 

Kyuhyun wiped his face with his sleeve, shouting:

“I’m not crying! I’m a boy! And boys don’t cry!” He then stomped over to the barber chair. 

Mr. Kim leaned over so his mouth was right beside his son's ear. 

“What happened? Why are they crying so much Ryeowookie? Did you do something?” he whispered, concerned. 

“I sang for them, appa! I sang 'One Fine Spring Day'. Mrs. Cho said she really liked it,” Ryeowook whispered back cheerily, puffing up his chest with pride. 

The barber let out a relieved sigh. 

“No wonder. Go ask umma to make some herbal tea for the Chos and bring it downstairs okay? It'll make them feel a little better,” he said, still speaking quietly to his son.

Ryeowook nodded and scooted off, leaving his father alone in the waiting room with the Chos. 

“Your son,” Mrs. Cho said, her voice breaking, “your son has a beautiful voice. Such- Such a beautiful voice.” 

Mr. Kim smiled warmly. 

“I asked my wife to make some tea for you. She should be right down. If you need anything else feel free to ask,” he said gently before bowing slightly and walking over to the barber chairs.

Kyuhyun was sitting in the booster seat, pouting and occasionally wiping his eyes. The barber rubbed his back soothingly. 

“Are you okay, Kyuhyunnie? Do you want some water or some juice? Or maybe something to eat?” 

The boy shook his head, sniffling. 

“Then should we start with the haircut?” the barber asked, speaking in a calm, relaxing tone. 

Kyuhyun nodded. 

“Is the hairstyle in the photo okay?” 

“My grandma liked my hairstyle so it’s okay,” he said, resigned. “Because I love grandma...” His voice trailed off. He pouted, miserably staring at his feet. 

Mr. Kim nodded sympathetically and began the haircut immediately, concentrated on perfectly reproducing the hairstyle in the photo for Kyuhyun's last farewell to his grandmother. 

Shortly after the barber started the haircut, Ryeowook returned from upstairs and puttered around the barber chair. He first stood on his step stool and watched his father cutting Kyuhyun's hair, then sat down on his stool, swaying back and forth and humming, still staring at Kyuhyun. 

Several minutes passed in silence, then Ryeowook spoke, unable to stay quiet any longer. 

“Did you like my song?” 

Kyuhyun nodded. 

“Do you think your grandma feels better now?” 

“Ryeowook, that’s not something you’re supposed say,” his father remonstrated. 

“Sorry Kyuhyunnie,” the older boy said, apologetic. 

“I think- I think grandma feels better now,” Kyuhyun said, thoughtful. “Umma liked the song so I'm sure grandma liked the song.” 

Ryeowook smiled. 

“And-“ Kyuhyun paused, looking embarrassed before continuing on, “And I- I- I think I w- want to le- learn how to s-,” his voice faltered before it became louder and more confident, “I want to learn how to sing better now! I want to sing like you Ryeowookie! Because boys can sing too! Appa said it’s weird but it’s not weird! It was perfect!”

“Of course boys can sing silly,” Ryeowook said, putting his hands on his hips. “And are you 100% suuuper sure you want to sing?”

Kyuhyun nodded, his tears dried up. A hopeful glint was in his eye. 

“I want to sing and make people happy!”

Ryeowook bounced on the spot, now gleeful. 

“Then then, I can teach you! And we can sing together. And go to music club together! And you can come to music camp with me! Then you can meet Jaegyunnie and Beommie and Soo-hyung! And then we can go swimming and drink pop and do Gee and-” 

“Calm down Ryeowook-ah,” Mr. Kim interrupted. 

“But appa, Kyuhyunnie can be my first student! I can teach him lots.” He turned towards Kyuhyun. “But first you need a piano okay Kyuhyunnie? I have a piano and it helps me tons.” 

Kyuhyun shook his head. 

“I don’t like pianos. Umma made me play the piano once and I don’t like it because it hurts my fingers.” 

Ryeowook huffed, annoyed that Kyuhyun had insulted his favourite instrument. 

“Fine then. I’ll teach you by ear. We can start now, okay? Copy after me Kyuhyunnie: Do Re Mi Fa Soh La Ti Do.”

“No Ryeowookie, I’m going to learn from a real teacher! I’m going to practice and practice and I’m going to become really good at singing! And I’ll make grandma and everybody happy!” 

“Hmph. Soon you’re going to wish you had the great singer Kim Ryeowookie as your profezinal music teacher.” Ryeowook stuck out his tongue, crossed his arms, and strolled casually up the stairs and out of the barber shop, pouting all the way.

“Sorry, Kyuhyun-ah, Ryeowook gets really sensitive about his singing skills these days. Apparently he and a friend had a singing battle at camp and it didn't work out to well for him. He's probably gone upstairs to play Karaoke Mania again…or as he calls it, ‘practice’.” Mr. Kim sighed. “Anyway, are you sure about wanting to learn how to sing, Kyuhyunnie? You have to practice a lot and that might involve giving up some gaming time. You should think about it for a while.” He switched on the hair dryer, giving the boy time to think. 

Kyuhyun looked thoughtful as Mr. Kim fluffed his hair up, drying it. Just seconds after the dryer was turned off, Kyuhyun cleared his throat: 

“I’ve decided! I’ll work really hard to sing better, Mister! Even if I have to give up some games,” he announced, a determined look on his face. “I want to make people feel better when they're sad! Just like Ryeowookie.”

“That's wonderful Kyuhyunnie. Your heart is in the right place. Maybe you can even sing for Ryeowookie when he's sad, hm?” commented the barber as he powdered the back of Kyuhyun's neck took off the barber gown. “Well, we're all done here. I hope your grandma likes the hairstyle. Will you be wearing your crown to complete it?” 

The boy nodded. 

“Umma brought the crown so I can wear it for grandma. I don't like it because it looks like a baby's crown but I'll wear it because I love grandma.” 

“You’re quite a filial grandson, hmm?” He helped Kyuhyun out of his seat and escorted the boy back to his family.

“I'll pray for you and your family, Mrs. Cho,” said Mr. Kim solemnly. “Once again, please have my heartfelt condolences on your mother's passing. Don't worry about payment for this haircut. You have much more important things to think about. If you need anything - food, help around the house - please feel free to ask us, we'd be glad to help.” 

Mrs. Cho nodded slightly, a trace of a smile on her tear-stricken face. She and her husband stood up, still emotional, and quietly thanked the barber for the tea. Mrs. Cho reached over and grasped her son's hand, shaking. She took a deep, hesitant breath then stepped forward towards the door, clearly reluctant to go on. Mr. Cho tipped his head impassively at the barber then followed behind the rest of his family, resolute.