Liebesleid – Love’s Sorrow

Today

~

I remember the cold nights we spent together in the ballet hall. I was playing, and he was dancing to the sound of the Yamaha piano. I remember his perfect attitude derriere. I remember how he preferred Mozart over Beethoven and how he loved Tchaikovsky. I remember his feminine moves. I remember how he flew on stage, before his wings got cut off. I remember his soul. I remember us.

~

March 17

9:30 precisely

My name is Do Kyungsoo. I am a pianist. Or at least, I assume I am. I used to be very good at playing precisely how the judges wanted me to play, but that didn’t last much. Today I work as pianist in a ballet school.  This is probably why I don’t think much of myself as a pianist. All I do is play some notes on a brand new expensive piano in a famous ballet school for rich kids.  

It is extremely boring here. I entered the ballet hall. Today is Madame Leroy’s class. She’s a difficult one to deal with. She even shouted at me once. But I’m never in the spotlight. Today’s spotlight goes to Kim Jongin. The school has been waiting for his arrival for a couple of weeks now. He graduated from Sunhwa Arts School so he must be just another rich boy from Gangnam. Madame Leroy entered the class really nervous. It was the first time I saw her this way. After her was a 1.82 cm tall guy. Kim Jongin had a jawline for days. He had dark black hair, almost, ALMOST, as dark as my coffee. He had those eyes. Those type of eyes that make you get lost in them.

My fingers started moving, and the piano notes were echoing around the room. Kim Jongin was in the center of the hall; right in front of me. The moment he started dancing, the moment his hand started moving in the cold air of the ballet hall, I was enchanted. My soul had already started to change the moment he walked through the door, and along with my feelings, the sound of my piano changed. I hadn’t felt this way since I first listened to Fur Elise. No. This isn’t just notes in a piano sheet that make you cry. I don’t know what it is, but I’m crying. I haven’t cried in a long time, all I want to do is see this sun kissed boy dance. I want… I want… I wish to play for him. Only for him.

 

22:56

It’s late. I can’t believe I forgot my phone in the ballet hall. How does somebody loose his phone like this. I blame Kim Jongin for casting a spell on me. Speaking of the devil; there he was. Inside the room. Dancing. It is obvious he is absolutely stunning. It seemed like he came out of a Michelangelo sketch. He is exquisite from head to toe. From the way his sweaty hair covers his beautiful dark eyes, to the way his toes keep the weight of his body. From the way he moves his fingers  delicately in the air, to the way he smiles when he nails his jumps. The last position of the dance is an attitude derriere. Hands tied up together in the air, body taking a v shape, and his eyes, focused on a certain point in the ceiling. I wondered, what was he thinking about. What makes him dance like this?

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music. Come in.”- I heard Kim Jongin say

“Friederich Nietzsche”- I replied.

“ How did you know? Are you a fan?”

“ Not that much, but I enjoyed a book or two.”

“What is a piano player like you doing here so late?” – He asked me

“ I forgot my phone.” – I said as I headed towards the piano in relief after seeing that my phone was safe and sound. I was about to leave, but my legs stopped. I kept telling them to move but they wouldn’t. I turned around: “Do you need my help? You know, I can play while you practice, it’s much easier than dancing creepily in silence.”

“You don’t have to go that far from me. I’ll be alright.” – Even though he said that, I continued trying to make myself stay.

 “I want to help you. I enjoy seeing you dance.” – in this moment, I didn’t know the real reason behind my actions. Did I wanted to stay because I enjoyed his dancing, or was it because of the impact he had in me. The way he made me play the piano, the way I wanted to play the piano for him. The way I felt in the morning, I want to feel that way again.

I started playing and he started dancing. The way he danced; it could even move the heavens from up above, it could raise hell on earth, and turn the demons in angels. That’s how powerful he was. Practice was going great. One  brisé, two jumps, a  fouetté… and just like that he was laying on the ground. He slipped. Kim Jongin slipped, and with that fall, I felt my heart cracking. Was he okay?

“Are you okay?” – I ran towards him

“I’m fine. You know, I’m not made of glass”- I doubt it.

“Why don’t you take a break?”

“I’d like that.”

We sat on the floor beside each other. Kim Jongin was looking at the ground. He was being hard on himself. I didn’t know what to do. They say ballerinas’ hearts are as fragile as ice.

“Come on. I want to play something for you.”

Liebesleid. Love’s Sorrow. I hold this piece dearly in my heart . I don’t even know why I choose to play this. My fingers, just started moving by themselves.  This music, gives you so many things to think about. It feels like a warm Saturday morning, it feels like a 1800’s ball, it feels like a waltz; but it’s called Love’s Sorrow. It’s not a piece that makes you feel depressed nor sad or hurt. It’s a piece that makes you forget about you sorrow. It’s a piece that heals your damaged heart. It’s not a piece you want to play for someone, but a piece you play to fix yourself. But, in the silence between the notes, I find myself wishing that liebesleid would put a smile on Kim Jongin’s precious face. In the silence between the notes, I realized, I had never played for anyone. I never wanted to play for anyone else besides me. But this time, I wanted my music to reach his heart.

After 4 minutes and 35 seconds I felt that I had failed. He wasn’t smiling. Kim Jongin’s eyes were stuck in the piano keys and didn’t move an inch for 73 seconds. Yes, I was counting. What can a nervous man like me do when the room was dead quiet?

“My mother used to play that for my father. Kreizer right?” – he broke the silence.

“Your mother knows how to play?”

“Yes. She did. A long time ago. She passed away. Both of them.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…” – there was no way I could’ve known this was the song of his parents. If I knew I would’ve chosen another one. Did I just made It worse?

“You couldn’t have known. She used to say that this melody isn’t about sorrow at all. It’s about forgetting it. I missed listening to it. Thank you” – he was crying. The first time I met him, I made him cry. His eyes were red, and his tears were ruining his make up, but I swear to god I had never seen anything more beautiful and heart breaking in my entire life.

That night I fell in love. We were there till 5 in the morning. We talked about our dreams. About our lives, about our past and future. We talked about his favorite food, which by the way is fried chicken. Actually, we didn’t talk. He talked. And I listened. With every word he said, I fell in love.

His was born on January 14^TH. His favorite color is black. His favorite movie is Billy Elliot. He likes wearing sweaters in winter. He dreams of going to Paris someday, and being a famous ballerina. He has a habit of biting his lip.

You have no idea how hard it was for me to go through a whole night while watching Kim Jongin bite his lip. And the last thing he asked me was my name. He had been talking about himself, with a complete stranger.

Kim Jongin had given me life. Kim Jongin became the reason I woke up this morning full of energy to go to work. Because I was going to see his face. I was going to see his attitude derriere. I was going to see his smile. The piano music is magical, and yet, I’d rather listen to his laugh.

 

Now

~

Oh my love, how much I miss seeing your face. How much I miss seeing you bite your lip. Oh how much I miss seeing you dance. I miss everything. Do you remember that day? That day we spent at the beach? That day I lost our friendship bracelet and you gave me yours? I am still wearing it. Besides this broken heart, it is the only thing left of you.

~

March 20

“Yeouido Cherry Blossom festival. April 1^st. Let’s go there together hyung.” – Kim Jongin said to me on that Monday morning.

“Let’s go there. Promise?”

“I promise.”

~

                Today Madame Leroy ignored me and my piano. I didn’t end up in any of her classes today, which meant that I didn’t get to see Kim Jongin’s face today. That meant that I had to suffocate for 6 hours. That meant that I would be drowning without water. That must be what a blind person feels when they can hear the birds sing, but can’t see the daises. That must be what Beethoven felt when he composed the Ninth Symphony. That must be what an astronaut feels when the never get to see Earth. That’s how I felt that day. What had become of me? I, the bizarre quiet pianist who works in a ballet school, had gone mad, over Kim Jongin. How could I not? I mean, he does look like a Greek God after all.

                The best part of my day was hearing his life. Today he was wearing dark ripped skinny jeans, black sneakers, with a sleeveless  white t-shirt and a black and white check shirt tied around his waist.

                “Do Kyungsoo. I knew I heard your name from somewhere. You were famous when you were younger. You were that prodigy pianist who never made a mistake.” – he came at me like a tornado, and I was DOrothy.

“I guess I can’t hide from the famous Kim Jongin.”

“Can you please just call me Jongin? Anyway, how come you don’t play anymore?”

“I was kicked out of the stage. I got zero points from the judges. Why would I ever go back to some place I was unwanted?”

“Why were you kicked out?”

 

I really wanted to tell him. I hadn’t talked with anyone about me and the piano competitions. But the way he was looking at me. Ugh. How could I resist? He was looking at me like he wanted to jump that high wall around my heart, and I was about to let him.

“ The stage isn’t a place where you find yourself. That’s what the judges told me. I lived a dull life. I never saw any other colors except the black and white of the piano. I still don’t. I played the piano without a certain feeling. Back in high school I went through a tragic loss. I lost one of my best friends. My mother still made me go to the competition that day. I cried, I begged her not to go. But I ended up in the stage anyway. What could I do? How could I play like a robot with no feelings. I was grieving about my friend. So I expressed all my feelings on that piano. I told the piano how I tried to save him, how it wasn’t my fault. But the piano didn’t listen to me. I kept playing telling myself and the public that we could’ve saved him. I could’ve saved him. But I didn’t. I really tried. But it wasn’t enough. It was my fault that my friend died.” – I was in tears. In the middle of the park, I was in tears. I was crying in public. I had never been so uncomfortable and in my entire life since the day I was born. And than, when I least expected it, for the first time in my entire life, someone hugged me, and covered my tears, telling me it wasn’t my fault. Kim Jongin brought spring to my airless dark heart.

                That day Kim Jongin smelled like a midsummer night's dream tea. Kim Jongin’s arms felt like Schubert’s serenade. He gave me life. He exists inside of my heart. Kim Jongin turned my life upside down. I finally saw colors. I felt warm. I felt home. The second time I met Kim Jongin I made him cry again but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that, right now, in this moment, I get to hold him in my arms.

               

Now

~

What you did to me, is what spring does to cherry blossoms. My love, do you realize how much I had been needing you in my life. My love do you realize how much you changed me? Do you realize that the moment you hugged me, I started to look at life differently. When it rains, I think, what would Jongin be doing if he was with me? He would make a cup of coffee, and sit by the window, and tell me stories about two boys, sitting in the park, hugging. He would get out of the house, and start dancing in the rain, because dancing is all he wants to do. How much I miss your attitude derriere. How much I miss seeing you dance.

 

 

 

March

~

                We were walking in the forest along with cherry trees that hadn’t bloomed yet. He said to me, while biting his lip, with those soft dark eyes, with a look that I will never forget: “Let’s carve our names in a tree.”

He took out a knife and started spelling 金鐘仁.

The beauty complex in korea were simple: pale skin, double eyelids, skinny. Look at this sun kissed boy and his beautiful tan. Look at his small eyes which clench every time he smiles. Ah his smile. The way he laughs. His laugh sounds better to me than Mozart’s requiem.  The way he smiles reminds me of a Californian  beach I went when I was younger. His eyes remind me of the sea. His smile is the sun. His cheekbones are the shells. And he is the sea. He is the fresh air of a forest. He is the sun that shines in a frozen land. He is the snow that falls in Africa. He is the rain in a Californian beach in a Sunday morning. He fits this world like Mi fits with Sol, but yet he is the contrast in sound between Re and DO.

Kim Jongin was a man you could never forget. Even if you smoked 23 cigarettes a day like I did that night, even if you drink a whole bottle of whiskey you could never imagine the taste of his lips.

Kim Jongin is the cherry trees in spring. He exists inside spring. He exists inside this world. He exists inside me.

 

Now

~

My love, do you remember the day when we first talked to each other? The first time we met I made you cry. I remember every drop of the tears that fell to your face. I remember the way you talked about your passion for dancing. I remember the way your eyes lit up the moment you told me about your first ballet class. You woke up early and you were very nervous. I can only imagine the young you. He must’ve been a small bone kid who didn’t know the last thing about this world. He must’ve been a young boy with dark eyes and black hair and a sun kissed skin. He must’ve been the same that you were that night. Since the moment I met you, the only thing that I had been wanting to do, was to make your eyes light up again like that night. I remember you telling me about Paris. I can only imagine you walking in Montmartre street. I can only imagine your eyes shining because that’s how in love you were with paris. I remember the sadness in your eyes, that sadness that hits me like a hurricane even to this day, in the moment you told me about your parents. You told me about how in love they were. And you told me you wanted to feel the same way. Since that day, my dear Kim Jon gin, I have been playing Love’s sorrow, waiting for you to come and sit here with me. So we finally can play Love’s Joy together. I remember the taste of your lips when you drunk kissed me. I remember the colors my eyes were filled with, but the only thing I could see was you. Jongin, love of my life, why aren’t you sitting beside me?
I bought that piano. After going around and around I never found another one which would sound like that night. Why aren’t you here? Why aren’t you playing this piano with me? Have you forgotten me?   

 

 

 

 

 

note: should i write part 2?