❝ Lee Taemin was a street violinist. That's how people drew him, but it's not like he approved.
He was - or at least he so called himself - “everything the violin wanted him to be.”
Lee Taemin was nothing. No one in particular and nothing special. He just had a violin, and survived. 
Lee Taemin was melancholic and he wouldn't admit it. But at the same time the sound of his 'dear friend' was enough for an ear to tell.

The music Taemin played, or that his violin decided to play, or that his soul needed to play, got someone's attention in the end. 
Someone who was so far but yet so near. Someone who was on Earth but still wasn't. Someone cold, hard as stone.
Someone who woke up only at night, and started to follow the sound of that desperate story-telling music. 






!! I'm also uploading this story on archiveofourown.org : ( x )





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author space:
So, this is it for now. I've been thinking about this story for quiet a long time. It's nothing really special, but I do think it can be at least a little different from the other stories that are written here about this pairing. Not sure if this can be a good thing tho, hehe. 

I'm already working on the first chapter, and I hope some of you guys are going to be interested and waiting for it. 
Thanks a lot to all of you who bumped into my story and clicked on it out of curiosity; it already means a lot to me. 
♡