SUBIN’S POV

                A boy, a girl, a guitar, and a piano. They all add up to create one random love story. And that love story is mine, to be exact.

                I’m the girl in the story. My name is Jun Subin. And the piano has to do with me. Because, well… you know. I play the piano. I don’t want to sound all snotty or anything, but I think I’m pretty good. At first, when I started going to a music school, I didn’t really think about falling in love. I never really wanted a boyfriend. I never saw the need for one until I actually fell in love.

                When I fell in love, I really wanted a boyfriend.

                But you’ll find out about him later. For now, let’s start with my story instead of wondering about his story and our story.

                It all started on my least favorite day: Monday.

Monday

                “Subin? Jun Subin?”

                My homeroom teacher, Mr. Choi, was taking roll call, and the name that happened to be tenth on his list was mine. But, lo and behold, I wasn’t there. He sighed tiredly. I was always late to class, and he was getting sick of it. But he never really punished me. I’m not a teacher’s pet, but I’m his favorite student. It’s probably because he’s my language arts teacher, and I really like to write. He’s always complimenting me on my writing.

                But he only praises my fictional pieces. I hate writing essays and pieces like that. I liked writing, so he recommended that I join the school newspaper. It was a bad idea, because I just couldn’t write a decent article. I was asked to write a review of a café near our school, and well… it . I’m just not fit to be a journalist. My essays are okay, but when Mr. Choi reads them, he says he can feel my reluctance. He says my essays have really good flow and all that sophisticated language that everybody looks for in an essay. But when somebody reads one of mine, they can tell that I don’t really mean it. Because, if it isn’t obvious enough, I hate writing essays.

                I really am only good at writing fiction. Pieces of writing that aren’t real. Things that didn’t happen in real life and may never happen in real life. I guess the only reason I like writing about fiction is because it lets me escape reality. Reality can be a stupid poo sometimes, so going into my fantasies as I write is always inviting. I don’t fight it.

                It’s hard to get me back into reality when I’m writing, though. I’ll get that dazed look in my eyes, and if someone talks to me, it’ll go into one ear and out the other. It’s almost like I’m sleep talking or something. One time my mom was talking to me as I was writing. I think she was asking what I wanted for dinner. Then she asked if I wanted a hot dog, because she was going into the American restaurant downtown, and I said yes. But I hate hot dogs. So when she gave it to me, I started complaining about it. I didn’t know that I had said yes. I guess I was too caught up in my writing to really listen to what she was saying.

                It’s a bad habit, I know.

                Anyway, while Mr. Choi was taking roll call, I was still at my house. The walk to my school is only ten minutes, and if I really try, I can get there in five. That morning, I was particularly late because I had overslept. (I was busy writing…of course.)

                So when I woke up in a lazy haze and saw that my clock read 7:30, I thought that I had fallen asleep while Mr. Choi was taking roll call, but then in a flash I realized that I couldn’t feel the hard wood of my desk underneath me, nor could I hear my teacher’s voice. Oh gosh, I was so, so late.

                I got up in a flurry and ran to the bathroom to furiously brush my teeth. When I finished, I quickly put on my uniform on and ran down the stairs, telling my mom and dad goodbye, and to have a good day at work. But before I could get out the door, my mom grabbed me by the arm and scolded me for not eating breakfast.

                And then, I just shook her off and said as politely as I could that I would buy my breakfast from a vendor on the street (I tried to sound polite because I was sure to get an ear load of scolding when I got home for shaking her off). Then, with a deep bow, I ran out the door at full speed, all the while trying to get my money out of my wallet.

                I stopped by at my usual place, asked the ajumma for my usual, and gave her the money. She knew what my usual was because I always go there. Now that I think about it, I’m always late for school… -_- I guess I need to work on that.

                Anyway, after shoving a sweet egg sandwich into my mouth, I ran as fast as I could to school. I looked at my watch, and what do you know? I got there in record time: four minutes! The gates were just about to close, and a few stragglers who had also overslept were rushing inside. I barely made it, panicking when my bag got caught in the closing gate. I safely rescued it from the gate’s wrath and made my way into the classroom.

                Mr. Choi, being as slow as he was, was still taking roll call. I prayed to no one in particular that he wouldn’t notice me when I walked in. But of course he would, considering that I repeatedly came late to his class.

                So I walked in with my head down and shoulders slumped, slightly jumping as Mr. Choi called my name. I knew I was in big trouble because he only calls my full name when he is really mad.

                “Jun Subin. I see you’ve come late… again.”

                I may be his favorite student, but it doesn’t save me from punishment. He’s just as strict with me as he is with the other students.

                “Yes, Mr. Choi?” I asked, my voice trembling like a leaf in the wind.

                “This morning isn’t the first time you’ve been late,” he said in a monotone voice.

                At his remark, most of the class erupted into subtle whispers and teasing snickers. I was pretty well known around the school for being late. Did I also mention that I’m extremely clumsy? I guess that’s why they call me the Klutzy Queen. But despite all of that, at least I don’t get bullied all the time. (Well, there is the occasional whisper behind my back, but it’s nothing serious.)

                I did a ninety degree bow as I apologized profusely. I didn’t say that it wouldn’t happen again, though, because who knows what could happen? And I don’t like breaking promises, anyway.

                But Mr. Choi didn’t look satisfied. I think he was getting tired of my tardiness. He’s pretty serious about school, so if students miss his class, he takes it pretty badly. He doesn’t want his students missing out on a precious lesson.

                And, being the klutz that I am, I tripped on my way to my seat. Sigh. Even after all this time, I’m still pretty clumsy. It’s pretty sad, but I can’t help it.

                The lessons passed by in a blur, and soon enough it was the end of the day and I was happily skipping towards the abandoned music room at the unused side of school. They had made that wing for more activities, but they never got to furnishing all the classrooms, so I asked Mr. Choi for the key to one of the rooms. Then he helped me bring in a piano, so I use it as my private practice room. Of course, I can also practice at the other music rooms when we have class, but in that room, my playing is always slightly better. I think the vibes in the room just help me play better than usual. Spiritual stuff, and all that.

                As I was on my way, though, I got stopped by a serious looking Mr. Choi.

                “Subin, I need to talk to you for a bit,” he said calmly.

                Oh gosh, something bad must have happened for him to talk so calmly. He is never fully calm unless he is angry, which I find extremely intimidating for some reason. I guess he tries to keep calm and bottles up all his anger until it spills out in violent waves. I shiver just thinking about how he would act if he got really, really angry.

                “Are you angry?” I asked in a shaky voice. I was scared out of my mind.

                Then, all of a sudden, he laughed. Well, more like… he guffawed. He’s always been a crazy laugher.

                “Oh my God, is that why you were practically avoiding me the whole day? You thought I was angry??” he sputtered.

                I was avoiding him, since I was super duper terrified! I really did think he was mad at me! So, instead of eating in the classroom and having small talk with him, I cowered into the lunch room. Most of my friends were surprised that I had decided to eat lunch with them. I never eat in the lunch room, so I guess it was a shocker.

                I was really nervous and stiff when Mr. Choi confronted me, but I started to relax when he started to laugh.

                “I am mad at you, though,” he said. Oh gosh, I was in trouble!!

                “…But, it’s not like I’m going to lecture you or anything. Besides, even if I told you to stop coming late to my class, you still would, because that’s just you. You can’t change who you are. But just consider yourself lucky that you have my class first instead of Mrs. Bridges.”

                …And that is why Mr. Choi is my favorite teacher and I’m his favorite student.

                I was pretty lucky, though. Mrs. Bridges, the English teacher, was really strict and mean. She would have hung me by my thumbs, considering how many times I was late to Mr. Choi’s class. Oh gosh, just thinking about it makes me want to pee my pants!

                “So, is there anything you need, Mr. Choi?” I asked politely.

                “Yeah, that’s why I came to talk to you. I need you to take this guitar pick to Yixing. I’m not sure if you know him or not, because he’s not in your year. But I guess this is the chance for you to befriend people a year older than you?” Mr. Choi said hopefully.

                He acts like a dad to me. Mr. Choi knows that I don’t have many friends, with me being the Klutzy Queen and all, so he always tries to make me befriend everybody. Sometimes it gets annoying, but I appreciate that he cares.

                I sighed, taking the little silver pick from him. It looked really pretty. The guy’s name, Yixing, was etched onto the pick in gold writing. It looked really pretty.

                “Don’t lose it. That’s real gold,” Mr. Choi reminded me.

                I gulped. I never liked holding big responsibilities, but they always seemed to come to me, anyway. I’m still not sure if I’m responsible or not, but I guess if I have survived up to now with so many responsibilities, then I am.

                “He’s in room 407. Don’t get lost, okay?”

                I scoffed at him. Of course I wouldn’t get lost! The classroom the Yixing guy was in was close to my private practice room. I started to wonder why I hadn’t seen him until Mr. Choi started talking as if he had read my mind.

                “He’s my friend’s son, and he just moved here from China, so you wouldn’t have seen him. I just gave him the keys to another abandoned classroom today,” Mr. Choi grinned.

                Aish, that guy!

                I nodded, nervously fiddling with the pick in my hand. We exchanged goodbyes, and I made my way to the abandoned wing of school.

                As I got closer, a beautiful melody started to fill my ears. It practically knocked me off my feet. With each strum of the guitar, I could feel myself slowly being lifted into the sky. The song affected me so much that I felt slightly light headed as I made my way down the corridor. The classroom Yixing was in was close by. It was probably him playing. I was extremely eager to meet the not so mysterious (since I knew who it probably was) guitar player. I didn’t even know someone could play such an amazing song so well.

                Moving my head to the beat, I took each step carefully until I finally made it to the door of room 407. I was giddy with excitement. It was like the music had put me into a trance.

                I gingerly placed my hand on the door knob, turning it, and finally pushed the door open.

                The door opened with ease, revealing the most marvelous sight.

Author's Note:

Here is the first chapter! I wanted to make this into a oneshot, but just look how long the first chapter is!! So I'm just making it a few chapters. I hope this doesn't get too long. I want to make this story as short as possible so I can just continue with my other stories. I don't think I can update them until I finish this one. I decided to write this when I heard Yixing singing during Exo M's YinYueTai interview. His voice is so beautiful. I wish I could sing like that! TT0TT And his guitar playing is really nice too.

Here's a link if you want to hear his beautiful voice: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lXki_viAFc

See you later!

         - booksrawesome99

I love you all for reading this. ^^ And Myungsoo loves you too, hehe.