The following morning, I woke up extra early in order to make some long-overdue phone calls. I hadn’t made a single call home since I arrived, and my internet-less laptop prevented me from sending any emails, and I wasn't a fan of typing long winded messages on my phone's internet browser. My only contact stateside was through the occasional text. Even then, only Ian really kept in touch with me that way (He clearly had been into the kpop world from working with Taemin), and it was like I could feel my father’s disapproving looks from six thousand miles away. Plus, considering the events of the previous evening, I really could use a touchstone with my own reality.

Despite being awake, I continued to lay in bed as I scrolled through my phone. I was tired, but I needed to account for the time difference and international dateline in order to increase my chances of actually reaching my contacts. First things first, I found my dad’s number in my directory. As the phone began to ring, dread began to creep up my neck. I might be a perfectly independent adult, but disappointing my dad was still a horrifying thought. Finally, there was a click.

“Oh look who’s alive,” my dad’s sarcastic voice came through, and I sighed in relief. Sarcastic was a lot better than disappointed.

“Hey dad,” I greeted, English sounding oddly strange on my lips after so long.

I heard him shift his phone, “Hold on, Halley,” I waited, putting the phone on speaker mode and resting it on my chest as I looked up at my ceiling. “Alright honey bunny, tell me everything,” his voice cracked through the phone again.

“I swear, dad,” I laughed once, “if the press ever finds out you call me that, they’d go crazy.”

“I know,” he said matter-of-factly, “I’m saving it for when your popularity inevitably declines and you need a little media boost.”

I sighed loudly, but I grinned. “Things are okay over here, but my work here is a secret, so I can’t really tell you if Seoul is nice or not. I’m not allowed to leave yet.”

“Wait, which Korea are you in?” he asked incredulously.

His joke was not lost on me and I laughed again, “The good one, I promise.”

“But are they treating you okay?” his voice became a bit more serious as he inquired after my well-being. It was always like this- he was worried no matter where I went.

“Yeah, they feed me and house me,” I couldn’t help but tease as I pouted, “but the boys are mean to me.” It was a strange way to convey something as emotion-crushing as the rejection I experienced last night, but I wasn't about to tell my dad about my legitimate boy problem.

“Aww, is my sweet honey bunny getting bullied by some big bad mean Koreans?” he humored me, and I felt my grin spread across my face again. I could feel myself relaxing all over, my worries and stress easing away as I conversed so casually with my dad, despite being so far away. “Wait, aren’t they supposed to be short? You could totally take them,” his voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Actually, they’re all quite tall,” I pondered the thought, “the leader is the shortest, and he’s my height.”

“Any hotties?” his gruff voice asking such a girly question almost set me into giggles again.

“Did you talk to Charlotte?” I accused. My dad had a good relationship with my management. I was almost certain my dad went to check up on my office after I left, which always made me feel better somehow.

“She might have mentioned one or two,” he said, his voice carrying a little laughter now.

I smiled, pleased at the thought, “How is Cary?”

My dad huffed at this, “He’s fine. He had the bright idea of telling the media that you’re on vacation with family, so they’ve been showing up here a few times a week.”

Great. I slapped my forehead with my free hand, “I’m sorry,” I groaned. I generally dealt with the media as gracefully as could be expected, but I always hated when it started to involve my family and friends. “Is Sirius okay?”

“Your brother is fine, he graduates from college next spring,” my dad sounded a bit depressed at the thought. I supposed empty nest syndrome would hit him pretty hard once my brother moved out. He had convinced my brother to live at home throughout his bachelor’s program, but he intended to move out to pursue his master’s degree, “Are you going to do anything tomorrow for Fourth of July?”

“I’m in Korea, dad,” I reminded him, “not much to do about it. And I can’t leave, so I can’t go get American stuff. Even if I could, I don’t know where to find it.” The fourth of July was a pretty insignificant holiday for me, but just talking about it made me feel a little down, “At least Cary sent me some American candy a while back. I’ll eat some if these Korean boys didn’t devour it all.”

“You really just need to be loud and obnoxious to really capture the essence of the holiday.”

I heard a noise, and abruptly sat up, catching a glimpse of someone retreating out of my doorway, “Hold on dad, I have a visitor,” I spoke quickly, placing the phone to the side as I hopped up, “Hyuk?” I called out, making as educated of a guess as I could. I made it past my threshold and looked down the hall, and saw a figure there, slumped in defeat.

“No, it’s me,” it was Leo who spoke softly as he turned to face me, clearly embarrassed to have intruded on my room, despite my open door.

“Well, no need to run away,” I said with a laugh, “I’m just on the phone with my dad. Mind waiting a minute?”

“I can come back later, it’s fine,” Leo insisted, beginning to back away.

I sighed loudly, “Get back in here, Leo, I promise it’ll just be a minute.”

Seemingly convinced, he slunk behind me into my room, “It’s strange to hear you speak so much English,” he said quietly. I simply smiled at him before retrieving my phone.’

“Still there, dad?”

“It’s weird to hear you speak Korean!” he exclaimed.

I laughed, “Leo here said the same thing about me speaking English,” I glanced over at the tall man, who straightened up at the mention of his name.

“Well I’ll let you get back to your Leo,” he practically swooned over the phone as he said the name. I rolled my eyes, perfectly aware that he couldn’t see.

“Thanks dad. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Halley.”

I hung up the phone and tossed it onto my pillow before looking back up at Leo, who had made himself comfortable in my plush visitor’s chair, picking at the fraying seam of the arm. He looked very much like a younger kid, his legs tucked up under him as he waited patiently for me. The serenity of the moment was broken, however, when the silence alerted him that my call was over. He looked up to catch me staring, only to quickly look back down, “You didn’t have to end your call just for me,” his quiet voice sounded a bit sad.

“It’s okay, Leo,” I swung my legs back up onto my bed, stretching carefully, “What brings you here so early?”

His eyes flicked back up to mine through his dark red hair, “Ravi mentioned you would probably be recording today.”

“Yeah,” I said cautiously, that statement didn’t really answer my question. I simply raised my brow at him, waiting for him to continue.

He looked around absently for a few seconds, as if he was suddenly nervous for some reason, “Do you have our vocal parts written out?”

Yet again he was avoiding my question, but I knew better than to call him out on it, “Oh, yeah, I need to give them to you guys,” it was a good reminder, actually. I had organized each of their parts and put them each in their own folders so they could practice separately before coming together for group rehearsals. I hopped off the bed to fetch them from the desk. I found the yellow folder and handed it to him.

He simply stared at it before gently taking it, “Yellow,” he said flatly. For a moment I was worried it had been a horrible idea to remind him of my color coding from our first meeting, but a tiny smile cracked on his face.

“Yeah,” I said, relief washing through me, “though it doesn’t match your hair anymore.”

“Do you think,” he started to speak, but hesitated for a brief moment, “do you think I could practice with you?”

I was honestly surprised by his question, “With me?”

“Yeah,” he nodded slightly, “We managed to do those harmonies once, but,” he visibly winced, “I don’t think I can do it consistently without practice.”

“I’ll have you practice it plenty with Ken,” I reminded him. This only caused him to cringe harder.

“I’d rather be as prepared as possible before we get to that,” he sighed, looking away from me again.

I shrugged, “Well the piano recordings might take me an hour or so if you want to meet me down there.”

His narrow eyes met mine again, and it was as if he was really trying to tell me something important, but he simply shook his head, “Could I sit in?”

I blinked. I wasn’t really sure why he would want to do that. He had heard the instrumental already, and studio recordings were boring affairs, but I couldn’t think of a reason not to let him. Plus, a selfish part of me would certainly appreciate the company. Being alone didn't sound particularly appealing, “Of course,” I finally relented with a little smile, “Just let me get my things.”

I gathered up my own folder of sheet music, grabbing my laptop just in case. Leo stayed curled up on my chair until the last possible moment, only opting to get up once I myself was at the doorway. We didn’t speak, just twitches and nods of the head to communicate. It was enough, especially with someone like Leo. I couldn’t help but smile warmly once he stood in the hall waiting for me when I closed the door behind me. We walked silently down the hall together, his long legs slowing to keep time with mine. There was something inexplicably nice about it, as if we were especially close friends, no longer needing to speak. Even on the stairs, we remained side by side, and I was grateful that it was early enough not to worry about opposing traffic.

Finally, we made our way into the recording studio, and I quickly set up the microphone in the open body of the piano, aiming to capture the richest sound that I could. Most of the equipment was in a separate room, so I looked to Leo, who had stood awkwardly in the corner to stay out of my way, “Leo, do you know how to use the recording equipment?” He simply nodded once, “Can you got hit the start button? I’ll cut out any extra sound later.”

“Okay,” he said quietly, edging out of the room. I watched him through the tinted window of the equipment room as he deftly made his way to the sound board, flipping a few switches before coming back. He hugged his own arms, wearing what I had concluded was his favorite long sleeve sweater with little holes for his thumbs.

I sat down at the piano, giving it a few chords just to test the sound. It was a beautiful instrument, I had to admit. I peered over the music stand at Leo, who stood in the corner still, “You should sit, Leo,” I laughed quietly. He had asked to come down here, but he was standing there as if he were feeling instant regret. He looked around awkwardly, finally finding the chair next to the bench I was seated on. Once he was seated, he simply looked at me expectantly, and I suddenly felt a bit self-conscious. Of course I had performed countless times, but to have someone sit right next to me as I record a pure piano sample seemed oddly exposed. And it didn’t help that it was Leo, whose feline-like eyes seemed to pierce my soul every time he even glanced my way. Finally I took a deep breath, pushing all other thoughts away as I focused on my sheet music.

Once I began to play, it really was as if nothing else existed. Even when I had to record a section again, or start over, it didn’t matter. I just went with it, feeling the music as I went. It didn’t take me nearly as long as I thought it would have, maybe since I had listened to the part and practiced it ahead of time. Only about forty-five minutes had passed and I was pretty satisfied. I leaned back a little, slouching as I sighed. I wiped my forehead with the back of my wrist, clearing the condensation of sweat that had gathered there. Very suddenly I remembered I was in company, and I straightened suddenly in my seat, turning to him.

He simply sat, still and quiet, looking at me calmly. Once we made eye contact, he gave me a little smile, “You play well,” he spoke in his usual quiet tone, but he still managed to sound sincere.

“Thanks,” I breathed, weary from the constant activity. “Did you want to practice the harmonies?” I offered, avoiding silence.

“Actually,” he perked up a bit, as if an idea had just hit him: a lightbulb moment, as they say. “Can I sing while you play?”

I hadn’t considered that idea, but it actually sounded quite appealing, “It works out, actually,” I spoke while I rifled through my reference pages, “I have you singing solo in the intro with primarily piano behind you.”

“Really?” he spoke with surprise as he looked at his sheet music.

“Mhm,” I affirmed, patting the spot to my right on the bench, on the treble end of the piano, “Come sit here so I can hear you better.”

“I won’t be in the way?” he asked hesitantly as he stood to move slowly.

“Nah, the low end is stronger here, you’ll be fine,” I insisted, reaching to tug on his sleeve.

The gesture clearly surprised him, as he plopped down rather violently next to me, his brow furrowed as he watched me. “I haven’t even practiced, yet,” he mumbled, but he placed his sheets up next to mine anyway.

“You’ll be fine,” I spoke curtly, straightening back up again, not giving him a chance to object, “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” he nodded, focusing on the sheet in front of him.

“I have the rests written out, but do you need a cue to come in?” I tried inspecting his face, but it was just as blank and cool as was his standard.

“No, I can count,” he said with a little smirk, not even bothering to turn to me. He knew perfectly well I was watching him.

“Cheeky,” I muttered, rolling my eyes as I turned to my own sheets, “Okay, here we go.” Once I started playing, there were several bars before the vocals even started, but when they did, I was nearly thrown off the beat. I know I asked him to sit next to me, but I was not prepared for the power behind his voice. His part was tragically short, but it was a start. “You need to be a bit more… gentle,” I turned to look at him, his face just as stoic as when we began, “but that was pretty good.”

“Again,” he said simply, adjusting his posture.

I raised my eyebrow at him, but shrugged and obliged him. He backed off the vocal a bit, but was still singing as if he was competing with the piano. “Still too strong,” I sighed, “Save your power vocals for later on in the song.”

“Sing it for me,” he finally looked at me expectantly.

“Uh,” I was a bit thrown off by the request, “Alright,” I cleared my throat, “sing with the piano, not against it,” I said before beginning again. This time I sang along, trying to weave my voice between the piano’s down beats. When it was over, I looked at him again, “You’re solo, so you don’t need to compete with anyone,” I spoke, but I was silenced when I noticed the look on his face. He was looking at me, but it was like his mind was far away, his eyes not really focused on me at all. “Leo?”

Startled, he blinked, eyes focusing on me once again, “That was good,” he said quickly, “I get it now,” he sat facing forward once again, “Let me try.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, unsure exactly what just happened, but once again I began the piano part, and he came in, gently this time, his voice smooth and expressive. “Perfect!” I exclaimed.

A genuine smile crossed his face, his wide white teeth showing briefly, eyes squinting from the expression, “Thank you,” he said with a little bow of his head. “Can we try a harmony now?”

“Eager today, aren’t we?” I said with a little laugh, “But sure. I forgot my blindfold today, though,” I teased, giving him a little nudge.

He hid his face, “Not necessary,” he mumbled, shifting away from me.

“Fine, fine. Just try not to get thrown off, these harmonies are pretty tight,” I warned. “Want to just run through the whole thing? I’ll cover what needs to be covered.” I had intended on having each of them practice alone so they wouldn’t hear the whole song until they came together, but Leo seemed pretty determined, and I admired his desire to be adequately prepared for rehearsal.

“Yeah,” he said simply again, “Then we can see where we have to work most.”

So, once again, I began on the piano, and Leo delivered his now-perfected gentle intro, but this time, I got to support him with Hyuk’s English, going right into N’s part, and I had to bring Hongbin’s bass part up two octaves, then Hyuk’s (omitting Ravi’s rap), then it was Leo’s turn again, and I sang right along with him, practically laying my voice right under his. He was the lead, but I wasn’t close behind. To my disappointment, he pulled away, losing the pitch. I slid my hands from the piano, and the room was silent. I turned to look at him, but he was hiding his face in his hands. He groaned, “I was afraid this would happen.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, reaching up to gently grab his cloth-covered wrist, tugging to pull his hand away from his face. “You did so well before,” I spoke gently, as it was clear he was genuinely upset by his failure.

“I did well when,” he trailed off when he looked at me, his eyes flicking to my neck. He didn’t finish his sentence, but he clearly didn’t need to, “I don’t know if I can do it without feeling it,” he explained quietly.

“Well, we’ll have to wean you off of it,” I conjectured, unsure if such a thing were even possible, but we had to try.  “We can’t do it quite like before because I need the piano to keep us on track,” I was mostly thinking out loud, looking around as if something in the room would hold the answer. I sighed in exasperation as I fell short.

“Here,” he spoke as he stood from the bench as it creaked under the shifting weight. I craned my neck to watch him stand and move around behind me. He let out a single humph as he placed his hand on my head, turning it forward, “Hold still,” his voice was uncharacteristically firm as he let me go. A shudder ran down by back when I felt his hands move to my shoulders. My ponytail had been draped over my shoulder, but he brushed it away so it hung at my back. He placed each of his fingers deliberately, thumb on the bare skin of my neck, and the rest of his fingertips lay splayed out on my collarbone, over the thin fabric of my shirt. “Is this okay?” he practically whispered, and I suddenly became very aware of our proximity. It was something that would typically never bother me, but a wave of anxiety hit me when I remembered what happened last time we were this close.

“Please don’t run away this time,” I breathed quietly. My words were heavy, my recent rejection adding a double meaning to the phrase. I was unsure if I wanted him to respond to that, so I spoke again quickly, a little louder this time, “Can you feel from there?”

“Yes,” he said, simple as usual. “I’m ready.”

It took me a moment to compose myself. Every breath I took reminded me of his gentle hands. There was nothing sensual about it, but there was still a level of unfamiliar closeness. I had to do my best not to think about. I coughed to clear my throat, “I’ll lead us in,” I spoke, my voice cracking, and I immediately attempted to cover it with another cough before delving right into the song, coming right in on Hyuk’s part before the harmonized chorus. As soon as we hit it, though, I felt his grip tighten a little, but he stayed on course perfectly. I mourned the fact that I couldn’t feel him sing in return, but just having him execute perfectly was enough reward. I continued, singing Ken’s solo part, then the layered chorus, and then we swapped, me singing Ken’s part over his harmony. That part was a little bit shaky, but it was still pretty good. I stopped again, tilting by head back to look up at him, relieved to see a smile on his face. “Very good,” I said, letting my head drop to its original position. “Again?”

“Please,” he confirmed, adjusting his hands again before we ran through the same part again, this time it was just more in sync, our close harmonies sounding like one impossibly rich voice. We fell silent for a moment before he finally lifted his hands. I felt cold and light where he had been touching me, but I rolled my shoulders to try and rid myself of the sensation. “What’s next?” he asked suddenly.

I thought for a moment, “You need something you can do with Ken if you have to,” I pondered out loud. “Touching like that won’t go over well,” I managed a little laugh, “He’d never let you live it down.”

He ran his hand through his deep red hair as he sighed, “You’re right. Any ideas?”

“Actually, yeah,” I thought fast, standing up myself, flicking my hands at him to shoo him out of my way. He looked confused, but didn’t protest as he nimbly avoided me as I walked around the bench, picking it up slightly off the ground and rotating it so it was perpendicular to the piano. I sat on the short edge, adjusting the bench so I could still play the keys. “Sit behind me,” I instructed, gesturing to the now open space on the bench, “Back to back,” I clarified.

I saw him hesitate, unsure of this development, but eventually he relented and came to sit with me, his broad back against mine. “Feel anything?” I asked once he stopped squirming.

“Not as much, but it’s something,” he spoke, and even I could feel the reverberations though his ribcage.

“We’ll give it a try,” I did my best to stay still, testing my reach to the piano. Finally, I started at the exact same place as before. The feeling was not nearly as precise or intense as the neck or collar, but Leo still managed to stay on pitch, though I felt that he was not nearly as confident, though I secretly rejoiced at the realization that I could feel him as well now. “With practice, this will work, I think.”

He nodded, “At least this will work with Ken, if he can sit still.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, “You do have a point.” Sighing, I leaned against him, my head resting in the nook under the base of his skull, “That’s a bit exhausting,” I admitted. His body finally began to relax against me.

“Thanks for the help again,” he said quietly.

“Thanks for keeping me company,” I countered, sighing contentedly. It was nice, just sitting back to back comfortably after singing together. I felt the dark fog in my chest lift slowly. Then, just as I was contemplating our position, I realized, “Oh .”

“What’s wrong?” he straightened up as I hopped off the bench, running to the adjacent room.

“We left the recording equipment on!” I shouted as I flipped the switches off. I winced when I saw that we had almost exhausted an entire tape. With a sigh, I ejected it, labeled it, and tucked it away for sampling later. There was some useable stuff on there. Maybe only the first hour or so, but it counted.

I returned to the recording room to find Leo straightening the bench. The piano lid was already closed and the microphone replaced to its original position. When I stepped through the doorway, he looked up at me, “Sorry for interrupting your phone call this morning,” he said so suddenly, it took me a minute to remember what he was talking about.

“Oh, it’s fine, my dad would have talked all day if you hadn’t,” I gave him a little crooked smile. I didn’t want him to feel bad about it.

“You’re close with your family?” he asked me suddenly, straightening his back once the bench was properly tucked under the keyboard.

I nodded, “As much as I can be with my lifestyle,” I admitted. “My dad is supportive, and my little brother is pretty cool, too.”

“Your mom?” he asked hesitantly, as if he knew the answer already.

It wasn’t something I talked about. Hell, it wasn’t something I thought about anymore. My mother had died from complications during my brother’s birth. “I never knew her,” I said simply, the edge in my voice unavoidable. He recoiled from my voice, and I immediately waved my hands in front of my body, “It’s okay, we’ve moved on,” I said simply. It was fortunate, in fact, that my father had been such a fantastic parent. There was no blame or guilt directed towards my brother, and he did a great job raising us.

“I’m sorry,” he said anyway. An awkward silence fell across the room, and there was nothing to do to break it. He was getting visibly flustered, “Were you going to call anyone else today?” he blurted out, as if it were the only question he could think of.

“Uh,” I couldn’t help but laugh a little, dissolving the tension in the room, “Maybe my manager, and I thought of calling Ian,” I said offhandedly, running my fingertip along the now closed piano.

“Ian?” Leo’s interest suddenly piqued at the name, “Who is that?”

I gave him a curious look. That was certainly not the reaction I expected, but I figured I might as well keep talking, “Ian Eastwood. He is that guy that worked with Taemin on Danger. He’s a choreographer from Chicago that works in LA.”

He paused, his eyes shifting as he thought, “You’re close?”

I shrugged, “He’s one of the few collaborators I keep in touch with,” I looked up at him, “We didn’t talk all that much until I got here. He seems to be quite enamored with the kpop industry since working with Taemin.” Leo seemed to relax a bit at my answer, and it made me curious. “I could probably get him to collaborate with you guys if you wanted another American to work with,” it was half a joke, but I bet he would say yes if I asked.

Leo inexplicably looked relieved at my statement. He was clearly expecting me to say something else, “I don’t think N would let a choreographer come in and take over.” He smiled a little, “He’s too attached to that job.”

I nodded in agreement. “Well I think we’ve spent enough time down in the dungeon,” I looked around at the grey walls lined with more grey sound panels. If it weren’t a place for music, it’d be a rather dreary place.

He picked up his yellow folder, then paused, “Can I borrow your pen?” he asked suddenly.

“Sure,” I pulled my pen from the spine of my notebook and handed it to him. He quickly opened to folder to write something on his sheet music, and I noticed something. “Hey,” I craned my neck to get a better look, “You told me Hongbin was a leftie, but not you, too!”

“Oh,” he looked down at the pen in his left hand, “Yeah, me, too,” he said with a little smile. “Thanks,” he handed the pen back to me.

“What’d you write?” I asked, genuinely curious.

He shrugged, “I needed to remind myself to be gentle at the beginning,” he glanced sideways at me, “I have a habit of,” he paused, “what did you call it- oh, right, I have a habit of competing with the music,” he smiled a little at me before tucking the folder under his arm.

“Yes, Taekwoon, yes you do,” I laughed, “Shall we?” And just like that, we left just as we came- side by side, silent.