Lu Han staggers into the dingy bar; instead of his eyes drifting to the corner booth where he had sat for the past couple of nights, they land on an old piano stationary just by the few tables. His legs take him towards it and he finally allows his hands to raise the wooden cover protecting the piano keys, allows his fingers to skate over the black and white teeth. He presses on a key, which emits a soft note, perfect amidst the low hum of conversations inside the bar.

Leeteuk, the barkeep, has noticed him eyeing the piano multiple times since he'd first entered the small bar. He's even urged Lu Han to play something on the piano if he should ever like it; nobody's paid to attention to the thing in years. Most people are preoccupied with the booze anyway, he says, and would just drop coins into the much older jukebox beside the piano if they wanted a bit of music to change the mood.

For a week since he'd first stumbled into the bar, Lu Han has drowned his thoughts in multiple glasses of vodka. Tonight, he forgoes the alcohol for something more bitter, but perhaps more cathartic. Lu Han sits on the piano bench and fiddles with the keys for a short while, until he decides all of them are in tuned condition. The instrument is in good playing condition, as far as Lu Han is concerned, surprising since it looks to be very old; not broken though, only worn by time, not by use. The other people in the bar pay him no heed as he starts on a customary exercise to test his hands and fingers. He ascends octaves, gaining speed and a little bit more confidence as he familiarizes himself with the touch of the piano once again.

Reacquainting with the beloved instrument, Lu Han muses, is decidedly harsher than a cheap shot of alcohol, ushering in the memories instead of wiping them out for the night. It reinforces thoughts of that tall guy Lu Han has spent many, many nights with, singing to and churning tunes on the piano for. A man whose song requests were always a very wide variety of the original soundtrack of films, including the silly tunes, the ones you hum randomly when you remember it in a day, and other more random tunes. There was that one time he asked for Hedwig's Theme, another time for Jeopardy's opening music, another time for the tune of some silly toothpaste commercial, then another time for Titanic's My Heart Will Go On.

Lu Han struggles not to get lost too much in the memories, finally deciding on a particular song he intends to play for the night. The man in Lu Han's thoughts had only listened to an edited version of the song from a movie called The Game Plan. In the movie, the protagonist sings the replaced lyrics to his crying daughter after an argument they've had, until they finally have a chance to talk. Soldiering on in remembering the notes to the Elvis Presley original, Lu Han lets the melody hit the air of the almost empty bar, and sings to the deepening night.

♫ Are you lonesome tonight?

Do you miss me tonight?

Are you sorry we drifted apart?

Does your memory stray

To a bright summer day

When I kissed you and called you ‘sweetheart?’

Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?

Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?

Is your heart filled with pain?

Shall I come back again?

Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight? ♫

***

Too soon, the song ends and then he is only humming the melody as his fingers drum on the wooden table, on which a third glass of whisky is perched precariously. Regrettably even his fingers have a memory of their own, retracing the path they’ve taken on the piano just moments previously. The thumb, index finger, middle finger, ring finger, pinky seemingly drawing do-re-mi-fa-sol-la-ti on the table.

The other people inside the bar had given him a warm round of applause after he had finished with the song, and when he turned to look, it was to the most approving face of Leeteuk, his eyes smug like he discovered talent himself. But Lu Han had only felt empty, after having let out some of the burden in his chest. When the bar patrons had asked for another performance, he smiled wryly and sadly said he only knew to play one. They left him in peace as he stumbled to ask for Scotch, downing the burning liquid down in one go, in an attempt to fill the void.

Like always, it had not worked.

***

Two weeks earlier

The tragedy, Lu Han thinks, is that he may never love again. It is inevitable, really, when you have found yourself the best possible person to love, and yet you let him slip away.

It's a fitting punishment, anyway, for abandoning the promises he had made. The only silver lining he allows to be drawn is that Jongin now has the opportunity to find someone else… someone better. With hands more adequate in p