Wendy was a pianist, Irene did ballet, what more can I say?

For Fynn. Sorry it took this long, but hey, I did say I'd finish it one day.

Irene took long strides along the corridor, ignoring the pain shooting up her leg and underarm as she pressed against her crutches a little too hard. She panicked when the voices calling out her name grew louder, knowing that they were coming closer to the quiet and dim corridor where she was.

She was about to move on when she made out the outline of an old door labeled ‘Training Room - TR 21’. Although she was new to the arts school, Irene was aware that there are various training rooms scattered all over the school, mainly used by the aspiring musicians and painters. However, this room was positioned awkwardly, out of place from the other rooms and had an older look compared to the modern and sophisticated vibe of the training rooms Irene had seen.

Without further ado, she approached the door, being careful not to make too much noise with her crutches. When she got closer, she noticed that a music note had been carved at the edge of the TR-21 label, indicating that this was a music room. She almost heaved a sigh of relief; once she was inside, no one would be able to hear her. Heck, she might even be able to escape them every time after this by coming here, but for now, one step at a time.

Irene slid in the room and quickly closed the door again, throwing her crutches on the carpeted floor mindlessly since she knew they would not make any sound. She pressed her ear to the door, heart pounding when the muffled voices calling her name grew louder.

“I swear I saw her around this area just minutes ago.”

“She’s agile on her feet even when injured huh? Let’s go back to class and wait for her.”

“Yeah, it’s just a dead end around here...wait. There’s an old music room around here right?”

“Oh yeah, but Irene won’t go there. The room-”

The voices talked among themselves and slowly faded away. Only then Irene let out a sigh of relief, dropping to the floor with a loud groan when her injured calf started throbbing from her actions.

“What are you doing?”

Irene’s soul left her body for a few seconds as she jumped from the surprise of hearing another voice from the music room that she previously thought was empty. She had goosebumps and gulped nervously as she turned her head, looking around the dark room.

She let out a shriek when she saw another pair of eyes looking at her in the dark. The room turned bright suddenly, and Irene quickly put her palm over to cover her own scream, eyes wide from surprise and her heart beating so fast and loud, she was sure the stranger could hear it.

Unexpectedly, the stranger did not look very amused.

“If you’re here just to be noisy or play a prank on me, please leave.”

Still shocked, Irene could only manage to shake her head. The stranger still eyed her suspiciously, and Irene took the chance to study her look.

The stranger had short brown hair that reached her shoulders, with bangs that covered her forehead and the side of her face. Her skin was pale, a clear sign that she had not been under the sun much and she seemed about as tall as Irene. She was standing by the room corner beside the light switch, far away from Irene and the lower half of her body was hidden by the baby grand piano placed in the middle of the room. The piano seemed new and cared for, in contrast to the dull training room. The girl appeared to be eating her lunch before Irene unceremoniously barged in, evident by the half-finished sandwich in her hand.

She also looked mad. Very mad.

“No, wait. Please don’t chase me away. I promise I’m not here to disturb you. I just...I wanted to run away from some people, and I happened to stumble upon this room. Please let me stay here for a while until lunchtime and my free period is over, then I’ll leave. If they see me now, I would be dead.”

The stranger considered this.

“Are you being bullied?”

“Bullied? No, that’s not it.”

“Then do you owe them money?”

“What? No!”

“If you’re just playing hide and seek, please don’t waste my time and leave.”

Sandwich girl placed the remainder of her sandwich in a paper bag, looking intent to end their conversation just like that and seeing this, Irene felt a drop in her stomach.

“They’re trying to make me go see my physiotherapist (PT) and I really don’t want to!”

Irene blurted out loudly and Sandwich Girl stilled before she sighed and muttered something back.

“Suit yourself then. Just don’t distract me.”

If this was any other person, Irene would have joked about how her face alone would be distracting, but sandwich girl seemed intimidating and was already annoyed with her, not to mention that Irene was technically barging into her turf, so she nodded her agreement, watching quietly as the other girl took her place by the piano. Sandwich girl started pressing random keys, testing them out and taking out a thick notebook out of her backpack, opening it at a seemingly random page before she started to study the music sheet.

Irene testily approached the piano and settled herself at the other side of the long chair, almost expecting to be shouted at by Sandwich Girl but if the girl was bothered by her presence, she did not say it. She was still engrossed in her work, lost in her own world.

“Why did you eat in the dark?”

Any other person in Irene’s situation would have known better and stayed quiet out of courtesy to the room owner, but Irene was full of curiosity and the only way it could be sated was by asking her questions to Sandwich Girl directly.

As expected, Sandwich Girl grumbled at the interruption.

“Because it’s lunchtime.” Not really the answer Irene was looking for, but made sense nonetheless. “There’s another sandwich in the bag, you can have it if you want. It’s PB&J though, so if you have an allergy or something, consider yourself warned.”

That was the longest sentence Sandwich Girl had said and it was to offer her...sandwich. Irene gratefully picked up on the offer, taking out the sandwich from the paper bag placed over the piano and started munching. She still observed Sandwich Girl unabashed, sure that if the girl was ever uncomfortable, she would just ask Irene to stop.

Sandwich Girl propped her notebook over the music desk and started playing a rich melody Irene thought sounded familiar but would not be able to name. Irene swayed her head slightly to the music as she chewed on her sandwich, letting her feelings dip when the tempo slowed and evoked sadness and smiling when the tempo picked up, creating an air of excitement.

She might not know much about piano, but she knew that sandwich girl was good, good.

Irene finished her sandwich, but she did not leave. She waited and listened to songs after songs, up until the time she had to return to class for another one of her core subjects.

But Sandwich Girl was still there, lost in the clouds as she played to the wind.

*

“I can’t believe you ran away from us yesterday.”

Irene laughed nervously when one of her friends, Solar, complained loudly about her escape yesterday. She might be new to the school, but she had known Solar from a while back since Solar took a few ballet classes with her, although the girl did it as her extra-curricular activity while Irene majored in it. She would consider Solar as her best friend, mainly because she was the friend closest in age with Irene. Most of the people she had in her circle were mainly older, since they were career ballerinas or ballet mistresses.

“You can’t avoid physio forever; you know that right? And your mom asked me to look after you. She’ll have both of our heads if it takes too long for your injury to heal, or you make it worse by running around when you shouldn’t.”

“I know, I know, I’m not planning to. But I’m not ready yet, so give me a break yeah?”

Irene riposted, hoping that Solar would drop the topic. Thankfully, she did, but she shifted the conversation to something else Irene was uncomfortable with.

“That reminds me, where did you go after Jennie and I chased you to Mozart Block?” Oh, it was the music building, no wonder TR-21 was there; Irene made a mental note. “Obviously you can’t climb stairs that fast, but we didn’t see you after you walked in a dead end.”

Solar paused, hesitant. “You didn’t go to any room there, did you?”

Irene felt the wheels in her mind start moving. She had to figure out an excuse since she did not want Solar to know that she had indeed been in one of the rooms there. Yet, she wanted to know about TR-21 and its occupant, especially since Solar seemed to know something about it.

“I hid in one of the corners and waited until you and Jen left. Was there a room there? The area looked creepy; I never would have expected that. Who would be crazy enough to go there unless they're being chased by bulldozers?”

Irene pretended she did not know about the training room and laughed when Solar elbowed her, offended by the implication of her being a bulldozer. She cheered in her mind when she saw Solar looking around conspiratorially before leaning closer to her, speaking in a low voice.

“There’s actually a training room there. TR-21. It was a well-known training room usually used by the school’s music prodigy or when a competing music student - particularly a winning candidate - needed extra training. The area was quiet, so the occupant would not be disturbed and focus better. Depending on who you ask, you can hear promiscuous gossip about the room or ghost stories but right now,” Solar dropped her voice even more, forcing Irene to move closer to her, ear inches away from Solar’s mouth.

“The room is being used by Wendy Son and has been so since the last 4 years.”

Irene blinked and recalled Sandwich Girl. The name ‘Wendy’ seemed to suit her, somehow.

“So, she’s the genius occupying the room right now? Is that a big deal? I don’t think I’ve seen her name in any of the piano competitions though.”

Irene frowned when she thought about this. She had been dragged to piano competitions by her parents, since they were convinced that it would help her to become more immersed in her performance and made new connections that would propel her career. Sometimes the competitions would be intriguing, but most of the time Irene would fall asleep, being bored out of her mind. It was rather embarrassing to admit, but she could not be bothered to pretend that she was an expert in something she was not.

Solar straightened up as she continued with her narrative.

“That’s the thing, she never entered any competitions or interacted with anyone else in the school. The training rooms would normally work on a first come, first serve basis but since the Sons are a powerful family, they booked the room for her whole time here and rumour has it that they even bought a shiny new piano for her personal use, and that will be gifted to the school after she graduates. And get this, people are saying…”

Solar looked around dramatically, eyes wide and looking a little horrified. Irene gulped, nervous about what was about to come. Solar finished in a half-whisper.

“She tried to kill her step-sister.”

Irene had goosebumps as soon as she heard that. She recalled the calm stranger she met yesterday. Was that really Wendy? Could she really be capable of doing something like that?

“That’s ridiculous. How can she still be a student here if she attempted to murder someone?”

Irene croaked out a weak argument before she could stop herself and Solar just shrugged, speaking in her normal voice now that the suspense was over.

“I don’t know, that’s the rumour I heard. I don’t believe it either, but that doesn’t change the fact that she had a training room booked for herself and she avoided people as much as possible; even her classmates don’t know that she’s in her class sometimes. I heard she’s staying in an apartment near our school alone, not even going home during holidays since her family has practically disowned her.”

It was a lot to take in, and frankly, Irene was a little creeped out. But then she thought about the sandwich she had yesterday and how much she enjoyed listening to the music Wendy played and she quietly made a decision in her mind.

“Anyway, enough talking about that, Rene. Just don’t go there anymore, okay? Are you going to have lunch with me and Jen today? I thought you said you wanted to meet my girlfriend, Moonbyul. She should be back from Japan today since yesterday was the last day of her exhibition.”

“No, sorry Solar. I think I’ll pass today. I’m going to see my PT and work out on my therapy schedule. I’ll go alone later so you and Jen can have lunch with Moonbyul and Jisoo.”

Solar beamed at this, happy that ‘Irene was finally being sensible and taking charge of her own life’ and continued to go on a rant about her girlfriend’s photography skills and some other skills that Irene barely paid attention to. She only nodded and hummed when necessary but in her mind, she was already back in TR-21.

*

“Oh, it’s you again.”

Irene smiled sheepishly as she closed the door behind her. The room was not dark today when she got in, and the occupant was already seated on her piano bench, getting ready to play before she was disturbed by Irene.

“Are you being chased today as well?”

“No, I want to see you today.” Irene paused, pink dusted her cheeks when she realized how the words might come across to the other girl. “I mean, I want to thank you for letting me stay.”

Sandwich Girl, or Wendy only stared at Irene before she started playing a song, this time one Irene recognized.

“Hey, you’re playing Liebestraume No. 3. It’s one of my favourite songs.”

Wendy stopped playing and eyed Irene warily. “May I ask why are you still here? Do you want my lunch?”

Unexpectedly, Wendy handed out a brown paper bag to Irene. “It's a ham and cheese sandwich today. Please leave if there’s nothing else.”

Irene blinked, waving her hands defensively in front of her body as she refused the offer.

“No, no! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to steal your lunch or anything. I just...like listening to you playing the piano. Can I sit and listen?”

Wendy stared at Irene blankly. “I don’t play for people, especially strangers.”

“The name’s Irene! There, we’re not strangers anymore, right?”

“You’re still a person.” Came Wendy’s curt reply. “And you still don’t know my name.”

Irene would have said something then, but she bit her tongue and stopped herself. She did not want Wendy to think that Irene had found out about her from someone else and became conscious about herself since she was definitely aware of the rumours spreading around, so Irene feigned ignorance.

“Well, can you tell me your name then? And you can pretend that I’m not here afterwards, I can just be one of the furniture whose name you know.”

It sounded dumb in her mind, but even dumber said out loud. Wendy’s appalled expression seemed to suggest she thought so too and Irene shrank a little from the harsh look.

“Wendy.”

Irene blinked once. Twice. She never thought Wendy would give in that easily. When she looked at Wendy, the girl was running her hand lightly over the piano keys again, avoiding eye contact.

“H-hi Wendy! Nice to meet you.” Irene bravely walked forward and settled down at the long piano bench beside Wendy, just like she did yesterday. She was secretly pleased at Wendy’s lack of protest. “Can I still take the sandwich offer though? I’m kind of hungry since I had a light breakfast today.”

“Furniture don't steal my lunch.” Wendy grumbled but she handed Irene the brown paper bag anyway before she went back to play her piano as Irene munched on the food, all smiles.

Liebestraume No. 3 was once again heard in TR-21.

*

Irene went back to the room every day, each time lying to her friends that she would be going to her therapy. She made sure to meet her friends after school and during her free periods so that they would not complain about her absence during lunch.

She could not say for sure that her friendship with Wendy (if it existed in the first place) had improved, but at least Wendy scowled less to her these days so that was a bonus, right?

“Hey Wendy, I brought cakes today.”

Irene called out to Wendy, walking as fast as she could with her crutches and paper bag in tow. Wendy stopped playing and mumbled her thanks, exchanging her own paper bag with Irene.

“Butter croissant.” Wendy’s voice was flat, but Irene was excited when she peeked in the paper bag and saw a rather oddly shaped croissant waiting for her.

“You made this yourself?!”

Wendy turned away from Irene, nodding but not fast enough that Irene could not notice the slight blush forming on her face. Irene took the seat beside Wendy as usual and started to eat her cake first, since she wanted to save the best for the last. Meanwhile, Wendy began to play the beginning of Liebestraume No. 3, the way she would whenever Irene walked in the room. It had become a part of their routine somehow.

“Tchaikovsky, Waltz of the Flowers.”

Wendy announced quietly the name of the song she was going to play next, something Irene suspected was done for her benefit. By sitting with Wendy, she listened to the songs composed by a variety of composers and she would look the songs up at home, familiarizing herself with them so that she would know it the next time Wendy played.

It was not in her to invest her time so much in classical music, but there was a strong need within her to be recognized by Wendy, to let her know that Irene was really paying attention.

However, the next song, she had already known from a long time ago.

“Hey, it’s from The Nutcracker!”

Wendy tilted her head at Irene curiously, the unspoken question was obvious in her eyes so Irene proceeded to explain herself.

“I did ballet, you see, and I played as Clara in several productions of The Nutcracker so I’m familiar with Tchaikovsky’s arrangements.”

There it was, a chance to impress the immovable girl. Irene gloated in her knowledge, chest puffed out with pride, happy that she could talk more about classical music with Wendy.

“You did ballet.”

The sentence came across somewhere between a question and statement, but Irene nodded her head in affirmation anyway.

“Is that how you injured yourself?”

“Yeah. My partner was supposed to spin me around during one of our practice sessions, but there was a stray prop one of the stagehands forgot on stage and he tripped over it, throwing me to the other side of the stage. They all said that I was lucky the torn ligament was all I got, oh, along with a slight concussion and some bruises here and there.”

Irene shrugged, as if it was not a big deal although the moment it happened, everything was terrifying. All the people present during the time and saw the incident thought that she would not be able to dance again when they saw her all crumpled up among the props, looking like a lifeless doll.

Wendy nodded, taking in Irene’s story. She did not say anything much, but she continued playing the songs from The Nutcracker. To Irene’s surprise, the pianist started talking about the history of the famous show and Tchaikovsky’s effort in bringing it to life in between the songs she played. That was probably the most Irene had ever heard Wendy speak.

Then she realized that it was Wendy’s own way of showing her sympathy. Irene smiled at the subtle yet thoughtful gesture.

“I’ve been wondering about something.” Irene began when Wendy finished playing the more upbeat Russian Dance. Wendy turned her gaze to Irene and Irene felt her breath caught in and she had to gulp before speaking.

“Do you play more modern compositions like Yiruma? Or maybe songs from dramas or movies?”

Wendy considered this for a few seconds. “Sometimes. It depends if I like it.” Wendy paused before adding. “Do you have any particular favourites?”

“If I say I do, will you play it?”

Wendy responded by promptly pressing a low key on her piano, something Irene interpreted as ‘No.’ Irene laughed at the spontaneous response and Wendy slowly smiled, amused by the situation as well. Once again, Irene thought she had her breath out of her chest. This was probably the first time she had seen Wendy smile and Wendy was just- she was, Irene did not know how to describe it.

She left Irene breathless.

“I’ve been watching a drama called ‘Hotel del Luna’ recently and the songs in the drama were amazing.” Irene hurried to add when she saw frown forming on Wendy’s face. “But it’s okay if you don’t know the drama or the songs, I just thought it would be nice to hear them played on piano. I don’t mean to pressure you to play or anything, I was just wondering if you know them.”

“Sorry, I don’t know.” Wendy bluntly stated and went back to play a different song on her piano. Irene struggled to stop herself from smiling when she heard the notes playing, it was even harder when Wendy turned to look at her with a small grin.

“I do know Yiruma’s songs though.” She continued playing River Flows in You, the iconic song by the Korean composer and Irene had to physically restrain herself from acting on the urge of kissing the dimple on Wendy’s cheek that formed whenever she smiled.

Wendy continued playing a few more of Yiruma’s famous songs, like Kiss the Rain and Love Me before Irene had to (reluctantly) leave.

Irene squealed on her way back to class, catching some people by surprise and a boy even tripped over his own feet. Not that she cared, as she took her time walking back with the assistance of her crutches.

“Where did you get that deformed croissant from?”

Solar stared at Irene weirdly when she saw Irene was smiling away to herself in class and giggled whenever she took small bites from the croissant she was holding.

“Oh this? I got it from a special bakery.”

“They don’t seem to be very good at making croissants. Is it delicious?”

Solar remarked with no real bite to her voice. Irene stared down at the croissant with a smile on her face.

“It is the best one I have ever tasted.”

*

Irene walked in TR-21 a week later and immediately noticed the different atmosphere exuded in the room.

There was something off about Wendy today, although Irene could not pinpoint exactly what it was. Although Wendy’s neutral expression did not give anything away as usual, the movement of her fingers running over the piano keys appeared different somehow.

Wendy was not playing a song or eating her lunch when Irene walked in this time. Instead, she just sat by her piano, fidgeting and tapping her foot to a melody heard only to herself. When she noticed that Irene had arrived, her eyes widened comically and she gave an awkward wave. This was the first time she gave such an explicit acknowledgement to Irene’s arrival ever since Irene became a regular guest in TR-21.

Wendy seemed almost...excited. And nervous. But there was a sparkle in her eyes that Irene had never seen before.

“Hey Wendy, did something happen?”

Wendy was taken aback by this, stuttering her response. “N-no? What made you think so?”

Irene tapped her chin, pretending to think. She was aware that Wendy would be more nervous by this and she stifled her laughter when Wendy leaned her body closer to Irene unconsciously, in anticipation of the answer.

“Let’s see...maybe because you never said hi to me before when I walked in the room?”

Wendy scoffed. “I thought you said I can treat you just like a piece of furniture.”

“Yeah, I did.” Irene grinned. “But now that you’re acknowledging my presence, could it be that my status as a furniture has been upgraded?”

Wendy did not say anything, just looking at Irene with an unreadable expression. They were locked in a staring contest for what felt like a few minutes before Wendy finally broke eye contact. Irene was relieved that Wendy was one who looked away first; because Irene just could not bring herself to do so and she was sure that her heart was going to explode under Wendy’s intense gaze.

Caught up in a trance, Irene barely noticed Wendy patting the seat beside her, looking expectant. This was the first time Wendy had been this inviting and if it was not for her injury, Irene would probably skip the few feet distance between them to get to Wendy faster. Her giddiness just grew when Wendy took her hand and helped her settle in her seat, making sure that she was comfortable.

Irene did not know what happened, but she sure enjoyed Wendy’s change today.

“Let me know if it’s good, yeah?”

Irene was about to ask what Wendy meant when the pianist started to play. Barely a few seconds in, Irene recognized the melody and her eyes widened. Meanwhile, Wendy just looked at her with a nervous smile.

“Taeyeon, All About You.”

As usual, Wendy loudly announced the song she would be playing and Irene could not help grinning from ear to ear. She never thought Wendy would seriously consider her request and played one of the iconic songs from the drama. Suddenly, the song changed to another song from the drama.

“Yang Da Il, Only You.”

Irene seemed confused but she nodded nonetheless. Sensing the confusion, Wendy slowed down her fingers’ movement, explaining. “It’s a medley. I couldn’t decide which songs to play so I decided to play a few. The songs are great.”

Wendy had a bashful look on her face and Irene almost reached out to pinch her soft, fluffy cheeks but her rational mind, functional as it was, stopped her again. It would not do her any good to be chased out by Wendy.

Wendy picked up on her playing, continuing with several other songs from the drama. Irene was getting too excited, making it hard to focus and listened to the songs, but she took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself before she passed out from hyperventilating. When Wendy finally finished playing the songs medley, she peeked beside her, seemingly nervous as she waited for Irene’s reaction.

In response, Irene stood up to give a standing ovation, clapping her hands enthusiastically before taking Wendy’s hands, squeezing them. She was delighted to see Wendy looking away, embarrassed to receive such a passionate reaction.

“That was amazing! Did you arrange the medley yourself?”

“Yes, that’s why it took me some time to come up with this. Sorry I made you wait for a while.”

“You’re just, wow. You’re amazing. The best pianist I’ve ever known, truly. I wish I recorded the whole thing so that I can play it whenever I want to.”

“I’m probably the only pianist you know. And you’re biased because I played your favourite songs.” Wendy pointed out, before adding. “Why would you need to record it though? I can play them anytime you want.”

Irene felt like bursting from how cute Wendy was acting right now. She would never have expected this when they first met; not from the quiet, sharp-tongued Wendy but this Wendy-

No, it was not just this Wendy. Even the quiet, sharp-tongued Wendy made her feel some kind of way...

Wendy made her heart flutter.

At the realization, Irene panicked slightly, scrambling to find a topic of conversation so that she would not have to dwell on her newfound discovery. Thankfully, Wendy was the one who brought it up first.

“Your leg is still not healing, are you sure you don’t need to go and see your PT?”

Irene examined her leg, taking in the braces and crutches laying by her legs - her company for almost a month already and she shrugged as a response.

"I don't feel like it. Besides, my legs will heal eventually."

Wendy frowned at the nonchalant attitude, pulling away her hands. Irene would forever be in denial over the pangs of disappointment coursing through her by that one simple act.

“And your friends are okay with this?”

“Urm, my friends think...I’m using my lunchtime to meet my PT.”

Wendy looked at her in disapproval, but she did not say anything else.

"Do you have any friends in school?"

Irene blurted out the question that had been in her mind for a while, one she was only brave enough to ask now after Wendy started to open up a little to her in the past week. She wondered if the girl would balk from the question, but Wendy seemed amused instead.

"I gave off the impression of a pathetic loner huh?"

"No-no, I didn't mean it that way. I just… you're always here alone and I've never seen anyone else coming in the room ever since I started coming here."

"Yeah, because my friends are sane and they don't want to waste their time in a small, dark room for the better part of their lives."

"I'm not insane." Irene mumbled, refusing to comment on the implied idea that Wendy was not as sane as well but Wendy just smirked, leaving Irene to think that she was just joking.

"They didn't want to disturb me, so they chose to stay away. I do meet them sometimes after school or during the weekends, so I'm not exactly the recluse the whole school made me out to be. Then again, they're not wrong either. I don't have a big circle of friends."

Irene blinked her eyes a few times. "Have I been disturbing you all this while?"

Wendy hummed, taking her time before answering as Irene grew anxious now. Well, it was not like she was unaware that she was not welcomed the first few times she was there, but to hear that even Wendy's friends stayed away because they did not want to disturb her, she wondered if she was making the right choice.

"I guess so?"

Irene's heart sank and Wendy seemed to realize this because she hurriedly added.

"I mean, that was the case for the first few times you came in. It was quite unnerving to play for an audience again, and especially knowing they're looking at you? Yeah, that was weird. But I got used to it now. I won't play the songs you like if I think you're disturbing me, no?"

Irene pouted. "I thought I would have to stay away from now on."

"To be honest, I'm surprised you haven't left yet. I expected you to stop showing up a few weeks back."

Wendy chuckled and Irene observed as one of her eyes turned smaller than the other. Irene thought that even Wendy's unconscious habits were cute.

"Well, it helps to get my friends off my back about my physio sessions and I get to hear you play. I have nothing to lose by coming here." Irene added cheekily, "The free lunch is a bonus too."

Wendy rolled her eyes, and she shifted her attention to the piano again and began to play Liebestraume No. 3.

"Are you practicing for something? A competition or a recital? My friend told me that this room is usually reserved for such purposes."

Wendy missed a beat. "Your friend talks about this room? Talk about... Me?"

Irene knew then that she had messed up by speaking out about how her friends had known Wendy. Their eyes met, and Irene could see Wendy putting her guards up again, different from earlier. She fidgeted a little in her seat, anxious at how the situation would pan out. The silence stretched for too long before Wendy looked away and lightly touched the piano keys again, not making any sound. At this point, Irene had figured out that it was a way for Wendy to comfort herself, but she did not say anything, waiting for Wendy to break the tense atmosphere first.

“What did they say?”

Wendy asked quietly, Irene could barely hear her. Wendy started playing the piano again, with a melody Irene could not recognize. It was one of anticipation, a nervous tune that would make the listener anxious too. Without thinking, Irene blurted out an answer, one she herself had been thinking instead of what her friends thought.

“That you’re like a ghost.”

Wendy stopped playing abruptly and stared at Irene with eyes that carried too much weight for someone so young.

“They’re not too far off.”

*

“Why did you skip PT?”

Irene’s heart skipped a beat when she realized Wendy was talking to her. A few days had passed since she accidentally revealed that her friends were talking about the pianist, and it had been awkward between them since then. It felt like they were back to the early days when they were almost strangers and less than acquaintances.

Irene leaned closer to Wendy, eager to answer, to break the awkwardness between them and fix whatever that went wrong in hope that Wendy would once again show the side of her Irene had only managed to see once.

“There’s no guarantee that I can dance as I used to, so what’s the point?”

She wanted to believe that she sounded casual, but some bitterness slipped through somehow, evident by the way Wendy’s eyes softened when they looked at her. Irene pretended to study the music sheet propped in front of them although they both knew she could not actually read it.

“You give up without even trying? That doesn’t sound very much like the promising ballerina who is wanted by so many top companies that I’ve heard about.”

Irene turned to Wendy, narrowing her eyes at the girl but this time, the pianist was the one who avoided eye contact, as she suddenly looked very interested at an old, deep scratch on the otherwise shiny piano.

“So, you do know me.”

“Hard not to, to be honest.” Wendy mumbled, giving up on her facade as she turned to her side, looking at Irene. “You’re the literal opposite of me, the school goddess instead of the outcast. Everyone in my class talked about you when you first transferred to the school. Very anti-me. Being in the same room as you, no matter the circumstance...:”

Wendy trailed off, her fingers slowly hovering over the piano keys again, lightly touching them.

“I could never imagine it even in my wildest dreams.”

“What’s the wildest dream that you’ve ever had?”

Irene did not know what prompted her to ask the question, but she did. There was something vulnerable in the way Wendy carried herself that was absent during their first meeting but the more she got to know Wendy, the more she realized that the girl was not the anti-social sadistic recluse most made her out to be.

There was more to her than that and Irene was intrigued to learn everything she could.

“My wildest dream? Maybe playing with the swings.”

“How is that wild? You can just head down to the school compound and do just that right now. I’m sure I saw some swings near the PT building.”

Wendy had a weird smile on her lips, one that was both sad and sarcastic. “I know right? It would have been easy; nothing and no one to stop me. Maybe that’s why it’s one of my wildest dreams. Doing something on my own volition without being told to stop, without any consequences...what a strange concept.”

She continued playing ‘Maid with the Flaxen Hair’ without elaborating and although Irene was curious, she bit her tongue and stopped herself from asking. Wendy would open up when she was ready; Irene just had to be patient and trust her. A thought came to the forefront of her mind.

“I’m scared.”

Irene blurted out of the blue, causing Wendy to miss a note. She turned to look at the dancer curiously, head tilted with a frown on her forehead. Wendy looked soft that way, Irene noted.

“Of?”

“Not being able to dance again. Or being able to. I don’t know which possibility scares me more.”

Wendy did not seem to expect this answer, and Irene looked around her after speaking her fear out loud. She had never spoken to anyone about this because no one would understand. They would just look at her with sympathy but still pushed her down the same route, not wanting to see her talent ‘wasted’ with no consideration on her psyche and interest. After all, not everyone was lucky enough like her to be the daughter of one of the most revered ballet company principals.

Truth was, she disliked ballet. She was good at it, sure. But her heart did not find joy whenever she finished a particularly difficult routine or gave a successful performance with her corps de ballet; it felt more like a gruelling task or a test she had to overcome. There was also the added pressure from her own mother and the expectation from the public, her instructors, her peers and her seniors.

It was suffocating and often she found herself getting short in breath when she thought of doing this for many more years.

Being injured was both a blessing and a curse. She was glad that she could take a break from the routine that had been hers since she was 4 years old, but at the same time she dreaded being out of commission since it meant being left behind and risked her name being forgotten. What if ballet was the only thing she was good at and she would never achieve such heights anywhere else again? It terrified her.

She told Wendy all of these and the music student never once stopped Irene’s tirade. When she paused or stuttered to find the right words, or to find the strength to continue talking about the fears she had long carried in her, Wendy would reach out and tapped her knee in a rhythm, soothing her.

It was nice to know that she was heard. She might have only known Wendy for a short time, but she knew the girl would not mask her thoughts on the whole issue. She would not hear lectures about how lucky she was to be good at something, even if she was growing to hate it, nor would she be told that she would grow to love it, if not due to the beauty of ballet itself, at least the cheques that came with it.

When she finished talking, she hazily noted that Wendy’s round eyes never left her and she blushed slightly, wondering which side of her did she show to Wendy when she confessed her fears and vulnerabilities. She noted a little too late that Wendy’s fingers were still on her knee, tapping notes that only she could hear but Wendy had already retracted them, running them over the piano keys again with a thoughtful look on her face.

Irene braced herself, expectant of what Wendy would say. Unexpectedly, when her fingers still, Wendy said something Irene would never expect.

“I think it’s time for you to see your PT.”

*

Irene looked around the school clinic, still dumbfounded by the unexpected suggestion by Wendy. She expected inspirational speech, or perhaps weak encouragement to follow her dreams or something along the lines. At the very least, maybe Wendy would pretend she never said anything and they could move on with their lives in the small music room together but Wendy was serious about her suggestion, and even offered to accompany her there.

She still requested that they walk separately there though, she did not want them to be seen together and became the talk of the school. As a result, Irene countered with her own condition: they would only go to the clinic in the evening, the time which their school would be most deserted.

(Irene was also hoping that no PT would be available during the time and Wendy would just give up on the whole thing, but to her surprise, Wendy easily agreed.)

Now, she was alone in the clinic. She found out from the receptionist who was getting ready to go home that all the staff in charge had left and she had to lock up the clinic soon. When Irene mentioned that she was waiting for a PT, the receptionist looked relieved and led Irene to a room that was attached to the waiting room, revealing a whole section for physical therapy.

“The room is normally locked later than the main clinic, so it’s fine for you to wait here for a while. The guard in charge of nightly patrol will normally lock up the room at around 8 or 9PM, so there’s plenty of time left for your therapy.”

Irene thanked the woman and got a good luck wish in return before the receptionist left. She settled at one of the benches there and whipped out her phone, checking if there was a text from Wendy but none of the new messages she had received was from the girl. She wondered if Wendy backed out of her deal and her heart ached a little at the thought; she could not stand thinking that Wendy out of all people would be lying to her.

Trying to stay positive, Irene slid her phone in her bag, taking in her surroundings. She had been to a few physical therapy clinics before when she accompanied her fellow ballerinas, but this one seemed smaller and had less equipment compared to the more sophisticated clinics. The equipment looked used, but well-maintained. She glanced at the digital clock conveniently placed in the middle of the space. 6.48PM.

“How did Wendy know that the room would be open until night time? Could it be that she had been here before for therapy herself?”

Irene pondered on the possibility, wondering about the girl who barely talked about herself. Deep within her thoughts, she barely noticed when the door swung open and the person in her mind materialized before her.

“Damn, she’s not here yet?”

“Who?” Irene was confused, but Wendy just sighed as she pulled her backpack tighter to herself and walked over to Irene, helping to straighten Irene’s crutches that were placed haphazardly before sitting beside her.

“Your PT. I thought she would be here by now…”

Wendy trailed off and Irene jumped in with her own question. “I thought they normally only work during office hours, in exception of a few special cases? Do you really think that one would be available at this time and just drag me here blindly?”

Wendy looked offended by the suggestion.

“I wonder why I even bother helping you when you clearly don’t think much about my intellectual capacity.”

“You haven’t actually given me much reason to believe that you have a lot of those.”

Before Wendy could open to give another retort that would undoubtedly lead to a full-blown bickering between them, the door swung open again, this time with more force as it loudly banged against the white wall. Irene and Wendy winced at the offensive sound, unsurprised when a figure rushed in the room gasping and red, sweaty all over.

“Oh my god Wan, I’m so sorry I got your text and I know I said I’ll be here at 6.30PM but guess what? I forgot I had to submit a paper at the other side of the school by 6.30 and I barely finished it in time and didn’t get to text you back, but I ran all the way there and then all the way here and I’m sorry that I’m late, please don’t get mad at me like the last time or the time before that, or the time-”

“It’s fine, Sseul! Catch your breath first.” Wendy laughed and Irene widened her eyes at the