“Knock knock!”

You pressed your ear against the door with much anticipation that your teacher was feeling better from his flu. Two weeks ago, with your book bag containing your sheet music, you had brought the poor man soup (made by your mum, but you took the credit instead) and you saw it in his eyes. Total, pure spark had ignited between you and the teacher, though he seemed to be fantasising more about drinking your famous chicken soup rather than with you. Well, either way, he needed to feel better—to possess a strong frame of mind because you were going to confess your undying love for him. Yes, the fact that you were head over heels with your piano teacher (who was only really four years older than you) made your heart swoon with delight.

You heard a lot of quick shuffling which was followed by a huge thud (you could swore that you heard a ‘!’), and there on the other side of the door, looking good as always, especially today, stood your piano teacher, Kris Wu. He had combed his sandy blonde hair, and was decked in a nice white rolled up sleeve collar-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans. You could even smell his irresistible scent (which was a first); your chest rising noticeably as you took that deep breath. Nevertheless he smiled at you charmingly, accompanied with a little cough as if to get your attention, “Hello, Mihyun. You’re here early.”

You grinned at him despite his self-composed expression, entering the house before he gently closed the door. “I’ll be there in a minute, kay? I’m really hungry and I haven’t eaten lunch yet, so you can feel free to play the piano.”

To your amusement, Kris had limped his way over to the kitchen (though he tried not to), stopping short at the lighted stove. He twisted some knobs here and there (you really didn’t know because you couldn’t cook at all), and his arms flailed about the moment he removed the lidded pan, the steam launching itself right into his flawless face. He turned meekly, and realising that you were still there, said in a stern voice to go into his piano room.

So you did. You seated yourself by the grand piano his room, pressing light notes against the ivory keys because you were still not that great at the piano. You were still in your second grade in piano, and it had been this way for the past three years. Placing your bookbag on your lap, you removed your sheet music and placed it in front of you. But you couldn’t concentrate, as you were still keen on confessing to Kris.

“What could I say?” you muttered and eventually stood up as you wondered around the empty room. It looked like it had been set up like a ballet studio, and you found yourself staring at your own reflection pensively. Minutes had stretched interminably as you your invisible beard, with the other hand placed behind you like an old philosopher would. You drifted into your own world.

“What are you doing?” you had almost leapt a mile when you refocused on the mirror, side-eyeing Kris standing by the doorframe with instant noodles in his hands. You turned beetroot as you quickly seated yourself back on the piano, while Kris sat in the same seat beside you, taking you off guard. Opening the lid of the cup of noodles, he took a nice whip before placing it beside your sheet music. He muttered a “Sorry,” while covering his mouth, chewing as fast as he could before turning to you expectantly.

“Okay, Mihyun...” he realised that you were staring at his face so longingly, electrical circuits jumping from your arm as it brushed against his, “What?”

You shook your head vigorously, “Nothing.”  

“Okay,” Kris had flipped through the pages of your sheet music book, before closing it, “so what have you learnt since the last time we saw each other?”

“...Mary Had a Little Lamb.”

“What else?”

“...scales.”

“Okay, show me A major.”

Upon hearing this request you cleared your throat ever so loudly, a slight chuckle escaping through Kris’s lips because it wasn’t like you were singing in front of him, or something. You were showing him what A major looked like. What the heck was a A major scale? You completely blanked out as you stared at the eighty-eight keys in front of you, not moving even the tiniest inch. Kris had his elbow propped against the rim on the piano with his face towards you, waiting for your mini performance. Finally he smiled and positioned himself upright before his long slender fingers grazed over the said scale, and you hadn’t picked up the notes in which he had pressed at all.

“It’s this.” He turned to you for a response but all you did was stare his god-like hands. You didn’t dare to touch it though as you didn't want to ruin its perfection, and it was only until you heard a prolonged sigh that you turned to Kris.

“Did you hear what I just said?”

You shook your head.

Kris rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Mihyun, I said sometimes you infuriate me because you don’t practice enough at home. Do you even want to play the piano?”

Did you really want to play the piano? No. Your mum had forced you, because she always said that she had regret not taking up piano at an early age. She kept switching you from instrument to another, knowing that you hadn’t had your heart set in learning the instrument. So she was really proud that you were finally sticking to something, and you knew it wasn’t because of your ‘love’ of the piano.

“My mum forced me.”

“...so no?”

You nodded your head.

Kris sighed. “Then what have you been doing here for the past three years if you’ve never liked playing the piano?”

“Umm...”

“Come on, Mihyun.”

This was it. You were going to say it; you didn’t care anymore. Your ulterior motive was bound to be exposed because Kris looked as if he wasn’t going to let you go unless you told him the reason why you had stuck with him for all these years. You took a deep breath, again with his scent settling into the root of your lungs. But what if he had rejected you, and said no, he didn’t like you at all? There was no way you could ever have a normal lesson with him again, even if you did insist on going in the future. What if he had lost all respect for you, because you placed your own teacher as the better priority over your potential talent blossoming in the piano, if only you had just tried?

But then again, what if he said yes?

 “...because I... like you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I... like you, Mr. Wu.” You repeated. “I kind of... liked you since the first time I saw you, and I didn’t just like your appearance at first; it’s just how you’re so... the way you’re so eager and patient to teach me even though I’m a lost cause when it comes to any sort of creative areas of interest is just... I really like it.”

You looked at Kris expectantly, and your heart was on the verge of deflation when his unreadable expression was staring back at you. He was hesitating. If he liked you, he would have accepted your confession, and reciprocate your love immediately. But no. He was just staring at you. His serenading voice re-entered after what seemed to be the longest two minutes of your life.

“I accept that I’m patient most of the times...” he said slowly, “...but how do you know I’m eager to even teach piano?”

“Because you like teaching? Why else would you open up a private piano tutor?”

In that moment a tight lipped smile tugged at his lips and he leaned closer to you, your shoulders touching and your faces just centimetres from each other. You wanted to move back to give yourself some space from your own freaking teacher, but you just couldn’t help staring at those half-hooded eyes of his, and breathing the same air that you were both sharing.

“You’re right...” He paused, “But there’s also something else.”

“...what is that?”

Kris turned with his position before the piano and started playing Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.

“You can guess.”

You narrowed your eyes pensively, and thought of no better theories. “I just think you’re really eager in teaching because I heard you tripping before answering the door, which I know because you were limping over to the kitchen...”

“Ahh... that really did hurt.”

“Kris!” He turned to you, slightly taken aback at your first attempt in saying your teacher’s name. You had admit, you were really gutsy because you remembered the first time in which you had met Kris, and he had specifically informed you to address him as ‘Mr. Wu’. If you could recall, legend said that Kris Wu would go on a relentless tantrum about how one should learn how to respect him and his authority, despite of his overall nonchalant demeanour. 

Finally, he sighed. “It’s you, Mihyun. You’re the reason why I stubbed my toe as I was answering the door, because I wanted to see you. That’s all.”

You let out a sigh of relief, but you knew it wasn't because you weren't reprimanded by your teacher. A complacent smile had slowly spread as you realised what he was saying. Did he just indirectly confess his (possibly) undying love for you? Did you even hear correctly--or even misinterpret what he was saying? Kris turned his head back to the piano in an attempt to avoid looking at you, and even then he had incessantly made mistakes on the piece he was idly playing. 

“So you like me, too...?”

“I didn’t say that. But basically—ever since you brought me soup two weeks ago.”

“Is that why you’re dressed so nice today? I mean, you look good other times I’ve seen you...”

“...do you like it?” he asked shyly.

Almost immediately, you turned your chin upwards to look at his hairstyle. You had to extend your arm quite a bit due his height, and he flinched at your touch as you brushed his hair forward with your hand, giving him that unruly appearance that you had seen the first time you had met him. You smiled tenderly as you brought your hand with his. “Yeah, I do.”