Ryeowook woke late in the morning on Monday, having nothing else pressing to do, and made his way to the kitchen just before lunchtime.  He made a large bowl of salad and sandwiches—a whole pile of them—and left them sitting out on the counter, taking a little pity on Eunhyuk and Donghae now that his initial anger had subsided.  He cleaned up after himself when he was done eating and then sat down at the kitchen table drinking tea and watching as Shindong ordered Eunhyuk and Donghae around in the gardens.  There punishment from Kyuhyun was that he they would have to do yard work on their next day off and this was it.  Perhaps it was a fitting punishment for including Shindong in their lie but clearly they were not cut out for such labor and Ryeowook could hear their whining from inside.

           Yesung walked in a few minutes later to put away a dish when he noticed Ryeowook by himself and joined him at the table, glancing back at the gardens.

            “You look bored.”

            “I am.  Is there anything you want help with?”

He shook his head.  “You appear to be cheating on your day off already and you work twice as hard as EunHae when you’re on the clock.  You deserve a break.”

            “EunHae?”

            “That’s Minnie’s favorite little nickname for Eunhyuk and Donghae.”

            “Oh,” Ryeowook said, snickering in amusement.

            “You know, if you’re bored, feel free to go to the music room and play for a while.  The only one who uses it now is Donghae and what he does isn’t really what the rest us consider playing music as much as abusing eardrums.”

            Ryeowook nodded.  “I heard him a few days ago.  You really think it’s okay?  Eunhyuk told me that Mr. Cho doesn’t like Donghae playing when he’s home.”

            “Only for the same reason we don’t like to listen.”

            How could he say no when he’d been dying to play since his arrival?  Ryeowook stood up.  “I will than!”

            “I was told you were fairly accomplished.  A little birdie told me,” he said when Ryeowook gave him a puzzled look.  “If you’re up for trying it out, there’s a really beautiful piece in the piano bench—the sheet music is a light blue—I haven’t heard it in such a long time.”

            Ryeowook smiled and skipped out of the room, eager to get started.  He opened the piano bench the moment he entered and dug all the way to the bottom before he found the worn pages and set them above the keys.  He sat down on the bench, taking just a moment to appreciate the fact that he’d never played on an instrument this beautiful before.  His fingers touched the cool keys and he began warming up with an old song he knew by heart.  To describe how much more stunning it sounded on this grand piano versus the beat up, out of tune instrument at the pub in town where he was occasionally encouraged to play, was impossible.  Nothing sounded as wonderful as this.

            Despite how long it had been in between playing, Ryeowook’s hands fluidly ran over the keys.  Even if he closed his eyes, it was effortless.  His old tutor used to call him a natural but it didn’t matter what anyone else thought of his performance, he played because of the way it made him feel—the way his troubles vanished as he concentrated on the notes and how his heart lightened at the sound.  As he finished his song, he began to look over the sheet music in front of him.  Seven Years of Love.  He played a few notes here and there as he read through the song.  He was a little rusty at reading sheet music but if he played through it slowly a couple times first, he felt certain that he could get the gist of it quickly enough.  He set the music back up and began to play.  By about the fourth time through, he felt he had a real handle on it and that he wasn’t embarrassing himself too much for his kind hyung.

            Donghae and Eunhyuk were finally given a break from t back branches and churning up the soil and went into the house to cool down and drink some water.  After gulping down a couple glasses, Eunhyuk caught his breath and realized that there was music playing in the other room, echoing through the house.  “Donghae, listen to that!”

            “What?” he asked, irritated from having to work so hard.  Then he realized what Eunhyuk was talking about.  “Ah, that…Wookie’s decided to finally play something and he makes the mistake of picking that song.  Mr. Cho smacked me in the back of the head when he heard me play that and forbid me to ever touch it again.  Wait until he hears!”

            “But you butchered the hell out of it…this is so…enchanting!”

            Donghae shrugged.  “It’s pretty good I guess.”

            “I’d hate to hear him stop but we probably should warn him not to play this song.  I’m afraid Mr. Cho will get mad at him.”

            “The hell with that!  It’s his fault we’ve been slaving in the sun for the last four hours!”

            “No, it was our fault for giving him our work to do,” Eunhyuk reminded him.  “I’m going to tell him.”

            “Why don’t you just let him play a while and see what happens,” came a deep voice from behind them as Yesung walked into the room.  “If Mr. Cho gets upset, I’ll take the blame myself.  I’m the one who encouraged him to play it.”

            “What?  Why?” questioned Donghae.  “You don’t remember how pissed off he got a few months ago when it came on the radio while I was painting the second floor bathroom.  I thought he was going to throw the damn thing out the window.”

            “Just trust me for once…I think deep down somewhere, he really misses the old days,” Yesung said.  “Oh, by the way, Wookie made sandwiches for you guys.”

            Eunhyuk fidgeted in nervousness on Ryeowook’s account for another minute or two but that all slowly subsided as he listened to the music play and began to munch on the sandwiches.  There’d been a time when he toured around with Kyuhyun and heard this song so often he was almost sick of it.  He thought he’d never want to hear it again.  But it had been such a long time…

            Kyuhyun walked out of his bedroom and into the hall, still drying his hair from his recent shower with a towel.  Aside from his damp locks, he was already fully dressed and ready to start his day.  Just as he reached for the knob to the game room door, he froze in place.  Someone was playing the piano.  And not only were they simply playing but they were playing his song.  For a moment, he worried that his old manager had returned to try to persuade him to sing professionally again but as he listened, he realized this person played far too well to be him and curiosity propelled him down the hall and four flights of stairs.  He walked quietly into the room, as the music had just started again—he didn’t want to disturb his guest just yet—but the moment he caught sight of his mystery performer, he was more perplexed than ever.  He leaned against the doorframe and began to wonder what other secrets his new friend was keeping from him.

            Ryeowook kept his fingers on the last keys as he finished the piece, letting the final notes resonate through the room.  As the vibrations of the string neared stilling, Kyuhyun wrapped his towel over his neck and clapped his hands together loudly, making the smaller man jump in his seat and turn around.

            “Kyuhyun!  I hope my playing didn’t disturb you,” Ryeowook said, looking anxious.

            “Disturb?” he repeated, suppressing a laugh.  “No, you play very well.  I came down because I thought I had a visitor.  I had no idea that you knew how to play and from what I’ve been told about you, I had no reason to think you’d had the opportunity to take lessons.”

            Ryeowook nodded in understanding.  “When I was in grade school, my mother used to work in a school—one for rich kids—and when I got out of school I would walk there to meet her.  I had a couple hours to kill before she got off work and I was fascinated by the band room.  The music teacher heard me playing around in there one day and instead of yelling at me for goofing off, he decided it would be more productive to show me how to play one of them, so at least once a week he’d spend fifteen minutes or a half hour giving me free lessons.  Well, since I had nothing besides homework to do while I was there, I spend most of my time playing and became good very quickly.  I was his best pupil.  After a year or so, he went to my mother and explained to her that I had a natural talent for playing and urged her to get me a real piano instructor, someone above his skill level, suggesting a couple names and my mother, knowing how much I loved playing, took on another part time job just to pay for my lessons.”

            “Why did you stop?  You could be doing this for a living,” he pointed out.

            “I was offered a full scholarship at Seoul U