July 5, 2015

I’m not really sure where to begin with this. Starting with the moment we first met seems too abrupt and quite frankly, it wouldn’t be a fair representation of where we both came from.

Instead, I think it’d be more appropriate to start with an idea. Perhaps the concept of love? Because that’s exactly what it is - a concept. Nothing more, nothing less. Does love truly exist in a definitive form or does it remain subjective and ever-changing? I would be lying if I said I knew exactly what love is or how it should feel.

So no, our first meeting was definitely not the elusive “love-at-first-sight” that we all chase after. Not a cell in my body is willing to believe that such a thing exists because our definitions of love are too different, too unique, and too twisted to live up to even our own expectations. Ultimately, maybe the phrase “attraction-at-first-sight” is more suitable.

I say “attraction” because I’m inclined to believe that it was mutual. Whether or not it truly was, I can’t be 100% certain.

But back to the reason I started this.

It was a dreary Tuesday afternoon when we first met. Not exactly the ideal weather condition for a picture-perfect meeting. But then again, I suppose our story was destined to be unconventional in more ways than one.

I was anxious as our car entered campus. Our aging sedan rolled smoothly under the gates of the Busan School of Performing Arts. It was unfamiliar territory, filled with both strangers and new opportunities. I was here to make a good impression and the pressure to do well was constantly in the back of my mind.

I was about to enter what my peers would come to call a modern-day concentration camp for young pianists like myself. Ten days of intense practice in an artistically challenging environment, coupled with private lessons and master classes from highly-educated, world-class professors. It was a festival that many musicians could only ever dream of attending.

I glanced at the clock on the dashboard of the car and took a shaky breath. It was time.

“We’ll circle back to your dorms and drop off your luggage, Sora-yah,” my mother said from the passenger seat. “Make sure you greet the professors politely.”

“I will,” I promised, reaching into the front of the car to squeeze my mother’s hand. “You guys have fun in Jeju and I’ll see you in a few days.”

“You better not mess this up,” Chanwoo, my younger brother, teased from behind the screen of his smartphone.

“Don’t forget to call or text us if you need anything,” my dad urged, grinning at me through the rearview mirror.

“I’ll be fine,” I tried to smile but it came out as a grimace instead. “I’m not a little girl anymore.”

After a chorus of goodbyes were exchanged, I was out of the car and racing towards the music building. Five more minutes and I would be considered late. Late was unacceptable, especially on the very first day.

“Come on, come on, come on,” I chanted to myself as I dashed through the hallways, panting heavily. Just where was the auditorium-

Ah.

I gulped before steeling myself and entering.

“Lee Sora?” a friendly voice immediately greeted me. My ears picked up on the infamous Seoul accent many of my friends dreamed of having, my eyes scanning the room to find its source and landing on a pair of warm brown eyes that were shining with excitement and a touch of frenzy. “Glad you could make it here on time!”

“Hello…Professor Lim?” I managed in a timid voice, not completely sure how to address the program coordinator of the festival. She had seemed nice enough through the thread of emails that had been exchanged between us but her almost manic energy made me hesitant in sharing her enthusiasm.

“Go ahead and call me Yujin! It’s so nice to finally meet you face-to-face! We have some refreshments outside if you wanted something to snack on before dinner. The introductory workshop will start in just a few moments since we’re still waiting on a few late stragglers.”

And just as suddenly as she had appeared, she swept past me with her fingers flying across a small tablet and mumbling about flight delays.

Taking Yujin’s advice, I grabbed a bottle of water and a small banana, before turning around to come face-to-face with the very professor that had invited me to the festival.

I had first met Professor Min when I traveled to Busan for a national competition the previous year. Although the results of the contest had been less than satisfactory, Professor Min had been so impressed by my playing that she had personally reached out to me and asked that I attend her very own festival. It was no secret that the generous lady held many connections to renowned faculty members around the world. Being on Professor Min’s good side would broaden one’s musical horizon, so to speak.

“Professor, it’s so nice to see you again! I wanted to thank-” I was cut off as she wrapped me in a bone-crushing hug.

“It’s been too long, my dear Sora,” she pulled back to give me a warm smile. I returned it, surprised at the amount of strength she possessed despite her age. “I’m looking forward to hearing more of your playing this summer. From what I recall, your Abegg Variations were quite exquisite.”

“Thank you, Professor,” I mumbled in gratitude, touched that she had remembered a performance from nearly a year ago.

“I hope that you’ll continue to grow in your stay here,” she rubbed my arm encouragingly before ushering me inside the auditorium. She left to greet another participant as I continued to observe my surroundings, trying to determine which seat would allow me to socialize the most effectively.

I spotted a girl a few seats to my left, making small talk with a few other participants and gesticulating wildly.

“Hey, is this seat taken?” I approached her, a bit wary of her hyperness.

“Not at all,” she smiled at me kindly, dimples appearing in her cheeks. I smiled when I heard a touch of the Daegu dialect in her otherwise flawless Seoul accent.

“Mind if I sit?” I continued hesitantly, not even bothering to hide my Gwangju accent, secretly breathing a sigh of relief when she shook her head and patted the spot.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, slipping my backpack and jacket off before re-adjusting my hat and settling down.

“I’m Tae Gayoung by the way,” she held out a hand for me to shake.

“Oh!” I turned to her curiously, gripping her outstretched hand firmly. “Lee Sora. You must be the roommate that Professor Lim - erm - Yujin mentioned in her emails.”

“Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, straightening in her seat. “Please tell me you’re still in high school.”

“P-pardon?” I cleared my throat, my brows scrunching in confusion.

“Although you do look a bit mature for a high schooler…” Gayoung trailed off, rubbing her chin as she mulled over the thought.

“I’m going to be a senior in the fall,” I confirmed.

“A senior?! You must be freakishly talented then,” she smiled in wonder at me.

“N-no, I’m afraid I don’t quite follow your…logic on this,” I admitted, wondering what exactly she was getting at.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but this festival is actually geared towards college and graduate students,” Gayoung leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. “Take a look around. I guarantee that everybody here is at least 19.”

I did as she said and realized that she was right. There was a general air of maturity that permeated through the room, a sense of responsibility that often escaped the minds of high schoolers.

Just as the thought of being the youngest one here was beginning to overwhelm me, I spotted a boy with a lanky frame sitting towards the back of the auditorium next to a woman that I could only assume was his mother. He was dressed fashionably in monochromatic colors, his pitch black hair styled impeccably to frame his pale face.

“What about him then?” I asked Gayoung, waiting expectantly to see what kind of explanation she’d offer up this time. “Wait, are you even in college?”

“I did hear that the festival was making some exceptions this year for prospective music majors,” Gayoung didn’t miss a beat. “They’re hoping to start young and wheedle more kids into staying in the music field instead of running off to pursue the sciences or something. And yes, I’m going to be a freshman in college this fall. I just haven’t decided what to study yet so I was hoping to change that by coming here.”

I sighed pitifully before slumping in my seat, accepting my fate of inexperience and resolving to spend the next ten days never leaving my practice room.

“Listen,” Gayoung grabbed my shoulders and squeezed softly. “If you weren’t good enough for this program, you wouldn’t be here. So stop doubting yourself.”

I nodded my thanks before busying myself with the task of making new friends, murmuring rushed introductions and taking the time to soak in new information about the strangers that surrounded me.

As the general excitement of the auditorium began to die down, a boy around my age gently situated himself in front of me. He was joined a few moments later by the boy I had spotted earlier, the two of them easily slipping into a conversation as if they were old friends.

I paid them no further attention, fully engrossed in a conversation about the differences in music score editions when I heard muffled coughing that was slowly increasing in volume and frequency.

I looked up, frowning in concern when I saw the boy in front of me doubled over in his efforts to recover from his coughing fit. I immediately reached down to retrieve my water bottle, twisting the cap open and tentatively placing a hand on his back.

“Excuse me, but would you like some water?” I asked.

“Thanks,” it was the other lanky boy that answered. He took the bottle gratefully, bending down to offer it to his acquaintance. I was about to return to my previous conversation when a hand reached out to grab my wrist and stop me.

“Thank you,” a new voice whispered.

I turned, distracted by the unexpected pleasantness of that single phrase in the warm tambors of the stranger’s low tenor voice.

That was my first mistake.

I had never truly believed in love-at-first-sight, in a happily-ever-after. But the moment I locked eyes with the boy, I questioned that belief for the first time in my life.

I want to say that he felt it too. Whether it was the same enchantment that washed over me was another matter entirely but I saw something in the way his eyes widened slightly, felt something in the way his grip tightened around my arm unconsciously.

I don’t know how long we remained frozen in place. I just knew that as I was drinking him in fully for the first time, I was already trying to commit his face to memory.

My eyes roamed across his handsome features, marveling at the greenish flecks that sparkled in his strange hazel eyes, the bronze glow of his skin, the crookedness of his smile. He was lean but not quite as skinny as the paler boy next to him, his skin taut against the muscles that he was beginning to develop.

I felt a nudge to my side and just barely registered Gayoung harshly whispering my name. That brought me back to reality and I blinked, unable to look away from the boy completely.

“O-oh, you’re welcome.”

My voice sounded robotic compared to the richness of tones in the boy’s voice and I winced at its plainness.

“Forgive me, where are my manners? I completely forgot to introduce myself. I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

The hand that had been holding onto my wrist pulled back and grasped my limp one instead, giving it a firm shake before disappearing entirely.

“Lee Sora,” I answered shakily, clearing my throat. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he smirked, his Busan accent creeping out slightly. “I-”

He was cut off when Professor Min suddenly rose from her seat, clapping her hands together to get our attention. Silence fell over the auditorium and I tore my eyes away from Jungkook, twisting in my seat as I waited expectantly.

“Welcome to the Busan School of Performing Arts,” she began warmly. “My colleague Professor Shin and I are delighted to be working with such potential this summer and we hope that you enjoy your stay here. This will be your home for the next ten days so we decided to conduct a small gathering to acquaint everyone with their peers.”

“Now that everyone’s here, let’s begin the informal playing class,” Professor Shin took over. “The objective of this is to familiarize yourself with the piano and the concert hall, not to determine where you fit in level-wise amongst everyone.”

“So who would like to volunteer to be the first onstage?” Yujin appeared in the back of the auditorium, her brown eyes still wide and eager.

Everyone immediately looked away from the professors, suddenly finding extreme interest in their shoes. I hesitated, trying to decide if I should just go up and get the performance ove