Myungsoo rubbed his sweaty palms against the harsh surface of his jeans before pushing the heavy wooden door open. He was nervous and he didn't even understand why. It was this kind of nervousness whose cause you can't really grasp, but is still there somehow. Maybe it was because he had been imagining this moment for a long time and he was afraid to be deceived, to feel like his imagination had betrayed him, making him expect too much from a simple, dull moment.

He had been passing by this shop for three years, every day. It was just a small piano shop and hadn't really caught his eye at the beginning, as he was staring blankly through the dirty window of the bus. He couldn't remember exactly when he noticed the small building and the beautiful instruments that could be seen through its windows. Probably between the change of route the bus had to take for a while and his first year's exams in university. The curious thing was, once his eyes found the shop, he became obsessed with it. Every time he passed by, he looked through the window, trying to memorize as much as he could of the small room.

At some point, his brain started to make up stories and, after a series of constant adjustments, his imagination had decided that one day, he would enter the small shop, only to be greeted by an old man, who would offer him a warm smile. Then he would play for a while and the old man would compliment him, reviving his old passion for the piano. He would then go back there from time to time and become friends with that old man that he would eventually consider as if he was his own grandfather.

However, as he stood there, in the doorway of the shop, the rational part of his brain was screaming to him that real life and imagination rarely developed the same way and that being greeted by a mean salesman who would throw him out as soon as he'd understand he didn't want to buy anything was way more probable. He took a hesitant step into the shop and looked around, discovering all the corners of the room he couldn’t see from outside. The smell of the room – old wood and fresh tea – brought a smile to his lips. But as he scanned the room, there was no one in sight. Well, he guessed it wasn’t like someone could just walk in, grab a piano and go, given the weight and the size of the instrument.

As he was lost in his thoughts – something that, according to his friends, tended to happen a little too much – he didn’t notice someone come in from the door at the back of the room, a cup of hot tea in his hand. But then the newcomer welcomed him and Myungsoo jumped in surprise, only to be greeted by a small chuckle.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” The voice was playful, sweet and… young. As young as the man in front of him, who couldn’t be more than five years older than him. And just like that, the whole fantasy he had built up piece by piece in his mind broke down. He felt a blush creep up onto his cheeks, result of his embarrassment – and maybe, just maybe, of the warm smile of that young, attractive man –, and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet before turning around towards the door.

“I-I think I’m gonna go.”

But then the stranger’s voice was there again and his feet stopped. “Wait!” He peeked above his shoulder. “Didn’t you come in here for something?”

Myungsoo turned to the man and offered him a small, shy smile. “Err… I’m not sure, actually.”

“Well, do you have some time right now?” He nodded and the stranger gestured him to come closer, from his spot, sitting on one of the piano benches. “Then why don’t you stay a little? Almost nobody comes here, and when they do, it’s just old people and I’m bored.” Myungsoo just stayed silent, not quite sure what to answer. That man was talking to him as if they already knew each other. “Do you play?”

He looked down at the stranger and let out a sigh. “Used to. I don’t play anymore.”

The other shot him an understanding smile, went to grab another seat that he placed next to his and gestured for Myungsoo to sit down. He placed his hands on the keys but didn’t make a sound yet. He turned to the younger and looked at him in the eyes. “I know how depressing it is to lose the need to play. But you’ll probably wake up one day, sit in front of your piano and play again. At least, that’s what happened to me.”

Myungsoo didn’t even register when the other’s small eyes looked back at the piano and when the other’s hand started to move, but soon, the first notes echoed in the silent shop. It was simple chords at first, as if they were thrown carelessly in the silence. But, progressively, other notes joined in and the melody started to become more sophisticated. It was full of hopes, enriching mistakes and promises yet to be fulfilled. It held the end of sorrow and the beginning of a sunny day, bright yet bitter. A maze of memories that took him back to all the things he hadn’t done, things he had done, things he should have done, choices that made him… him. It held all the beauty of sadness and the relief of comfort.

It hit him like a thunderstorm in the middle of a hot summer, like the snowballs his friends threw at him in the winter when he was a kid, like the look the man he had loved shot him before turning his back one afternoon in the middle of fall. It hit him hard, all the memories and the hope of what there was yet to come. Before he knew it, he was a sobbing mess, in a small piano shop next to a man he didn’t know.

After a few minutes, the other stopped playing and he cried even more. He didn’t want it to stop. But silence was there, leaving only soft traces of the bittersweet memory. He was hiding his face in his hands, too ashamed to show his face to that stranger who had broken his heart and mended it in barely five minutes and who probably thought he was crazy or lame, or both.

But then he felt a hand on his shoulder and that soft voice again. “Sorry…” But Myungsoo shook his head. He wanted to say there was nothing to be sorry about, he had probably healed him more than he himself had thought was possible. The hand squeezed his shoulder a bit and then it was gone. “I’m going to make you a cup of tea, okay?”

He heard the seat squeak a little when the other got up, then footsteps getting farther away, then the back door. Left alone, he finally looked up and tried to calm down his sobs as best as he could. When he realized how stupid and embarrassing he had just been, he got up and quickly made his way out of the shop before taking his bus.

However, one week later, Myungsoo rubbed his sweaty palms against the harsh surface of his jeans before pushing the heavy wooden door open, only to be greeted by the smell of old wood, fresh tea and a warm smile.

~ Piou0102 ~

Hi everyone! It's been some time, hasn't it? ^^ This fic was inspired by a piano piece by Rob Costlow, called "Reflections" (thus the title). It is the piece the "stranger" played. You can listen to it here. Most of you probably don't know him, but for those who like the piano, you should really go listen to his compositions, they're amazing (my personal favorite is "I Do", on the album "Sophomore Jinx"), and you can download them legally on that website.

Basically, I wanted to actually name the stranger and have a fixed couple and maybe make it longer and see what happens when Myungsoo goes the second time but then... I don't know, I didn't feel like it. :p So just feel free to imagine anyone! :p

Anyways, leave me a comment below to tell me what you thought! :) See you next time! <3