Pieces:

Hoya trudged home after another day of struggling. Struggling with school, struggling with his friends, struggling with music and dance, and he knew that when he got home, he would just struggle with more things. For one, the rest of his schoolwork, which had turned from an anthill to a mountain in the course of one day. His siblings were another, since they tended to be a little too busy with their own lives in crucial moments like this, when final exams were lurking just around the corner. His parents would be his biggest struggle. Seeing their disappointed expressions, hearing the click of his father's tongue because he didn't meet the expected grade... It haunted him, and they were the stuff of his nightmares more than the ghosts and ghouls that were present in the movie he and his friends had just watched.

Come to think of it, that queer neighbor of his would be quite an annoying character as well. Honestly, Hoya did not know what he did with his time, but the man was capable of supporting himself properly. He was also quite distracting. He wasn't a loud mouth, nor was he particularly messy. Contrary, he was quite a neat person, and his house was always quite spotless and orderly, at least from what he could see, and he hardly ever even spoke.

Hoya found it odd that a man, even in his own opinion, as handsome as that would spend his time alone, cooped up in his house doing who-knows-what, hardly speaking to anyone. As he passed by the man's house, those thoughts flitted through his mind once more.

By sheer luck, coincidence or by serendipity, he came out of his house today and greeted Hoya amiably, asking how his day had been, like any concerned neighbor.

"Good, I guess," he replied.

"That doesn't sound so good," he noted. "Would you like to come in for a bit? I've made tea."

Hoya hesitated. This man had always gotten on his nerves for being a little too quiet, for being solitary, for being queer, and most of all, for being free.

"Come on in," he said, gesturing for Hoya to enter his house. "A little tea will help you think clearly. Your parents would have no qualms."

Upon hearing that, Hoya found himself walking towards his neighbor. Curiosity pulled him in more than anything.

Hoya followed him into his house, abashed that he was a bit dirty compared to everything inside the house. He had come from practice, and they've been rolling around the floor, trying to perfect a new move.

The inside of the house was furnished sparingly, just enough to make it comfortable. The floor was of marble, the walls white. There was a big empty space in the middle, but it did not look like a void. Hoya was led to the kitchen, where everything was in order, and a single clear pot boiling with water.

"Tea's almost ready," he noted. "Please, have a seat."

Hoya reluctantly sat down. It was good that the seat was not white, but wooden, so whatever dirt his pants still had would not stick to it.

"Here," he said, placing a cup in front of Hoya while holding one in his hands as he slipped into the chair adjacent to his.

Silence reigned over the time when they were both drinking tea. Hoya decided to break it, awkwardly asking why he had been asked inside.

"Is there anything wrong?" he asked with a chuckle.

"No, I-"

He shook his head. "I know what you mean. Somehow, today just felt like a day that you needed some quiet company."

His response struck Hoya as odd. How would he know?

He glanced at the clock, hand still wrapped around his cup. "Has the tea helped?"

"It was delicious," he replied. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Hoya, would you mind if I asked you to come over tomorrow? There's something I feel I must show you," he said.

"Why not now?"

"Now is time for you to go home," he explained, eyes trailing on the clock. Hoya followed his gaze and noticed that the clock did not have numbers, but words. In the places of the numbers one to twelve, were the characters for love, joy, piece, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control, hope, believe, and eternity.

"Everything will be explained in due time," he said reassuringly. "Go, or your mother will be worried."

~°~

The day begins, the day ends. Before Hoya met Hangeng on a more personal level, that was pretty much what his days were like. It was like struggling to stay afloat in the ocean of life when you barely know how to swim. Now, there was something to look forward to when the day was done.

"Homework?" Hangeng asked as he and Hoya settled themselves in his roomy living room.

“Uh… None?” he offered. He had homework, he just didn’t feel like doing them just yet.

“That’s not a good habit to have now,” he remarked. “Your parents wouldn’t be happy about that. We can go upstairs to the reading room for a bit. I’m sure I have something that can help you.”

“Wait. Where is this coming from?” Hoya asked.

“From you! You’re not being a good student, and as your friend, I have to be there to help pull you out of that lazy hole you’ve put yourself in and support you when you get somewhere amazing. That’s what friends do,” he replied, leading Hoya up the stairs to his reading room.

“I haven’t seen you study recently,” Hoya’s father said when Hoya got home. “Be sure that I don’t see a bad mark on your report card any time soon.”

Hoya simply nodded meekly before scuffling up the stairs to his room. He pulled out the eggshell that Hangeng had given him. It was now empty and brittle, but Hangeng specifically asked him to bring it with him everywhere he went and take good care of it.

Hangeng’s request was odd for Hoya. The egg was empty. It was a shell, and he wasn’t doing it so he could understand the meaning of the word ‘stewardship’ for English class and neither was he doing it for home economics where he would need to understand how to take care of something. Frankly, if that was the case, he thought it would have been better if he had taken care of a plant. Or an ant. But a request was a request, and Hangeng had been nothing but nice to him, so he had decided to accept it.

Placing it on the table and resting his chin before it, he allowed it to spin in lazily in the desk as he wondered exactly why he had an empty egg in his hands.

What’s with the egg?

~°~

With Hangeng, Hoya was practically free. With him, Hoya could do whatever he wanted, provided that he did his schoolwork first and finished prepping himself for important activities. That was something that Hoya was thankful for. But one thing that he was extremely thankful for was that Hangeng helped him learn how to dance.

Yes, he’s been dancing for quite some time, but his neighbor simply had natural teaching abilities that learning difficult moves became easy, and soon enough, he was capable of standing on his own two feet as a dancer in his own right.

“Having fun?” Hangeng asked as they took a quick break. They were both breathless as beads of sweat trickled down their faces as the speakers continued to play the song they were rehearsing.

“I feel alive,” he replied.

Hangeng laughed. A dance machine was born.

~°~

Things weren’t going well. Nothing was going well.

Hoya had auditioned for many agencies and talent search shows, so far, all to no avail. His parents knew of it, and for the moment, they turned a blind eye to it, though that act in itself was a sign that they did not approve of his endeavors. But they, thinking it was but a youth’s foolish dream that he would one day soon grow out of, allowed him to do it.

“I can’t do it anymore, Hyung!” he exclaimed, sharing his bottled up frustrations to the one person whom he had come to trust so much. It was quite ironic that Hangeng would be the person he trusted the most when he once found him one of the queerest people on the planet, a walking enigma.

“Can’t or won’t?” Hangeng asked. “There’s a difference.”

“Can’t, won’t, it doesn’t matter. They won’t accept me, so why try?” he asked, unconsciously pounding the floor. The act was followed by a soft, distinct crack. Hoya’s eyes widened in shock as Hangeng’s brows shot up in amusement.

“Egg?” he asked.

“I-I-” Hoya replied, unable to answer, then bowed his head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t capable…”

“Let me see,” Hangeng said softly, reaching out a hand for the now broken eggshell.

“But it’s broken,” Hoya replied weakly.

“Just show me. There’s nothing to lose, but a world to gain,” he replied knowingly.

Reluctantly, Hoya took out the pieces of the shell from his pocket and gently placed them in Hangeng’s cupped hands.

“Hoya, you do realize what you’ve done, right?” he asked gently, making sure that his tone was gentle and not reprimanding.

“I… I broke the egg,” he replied, head bowed.

“Mmm,” Hangeng muttered with a nod. “But you know, just because it’s broken doesn’t mean it’s useless.”

Hoya’s head snapped up, and he met Hangeng’s eyes.

“Follow me.”

The two left the empty room where they usually practiced dance and went into a room Hoya had never been to before. It was a room full of art, neatly arranged in the room. One corner had a potter’s wheel with a lump of formless clay, one had a table set with all the necessities of a calligrapher, one a sculptor’s. There were others, but Hangeng chose the table with paint in small cans and set the pieces on a piece of cloth.

“You know, Hoya, some things need to be broken first before they can become what they were meant to be,” he said, taking a brush and painting some of the shells. The paint dried quickly, and he produced a mosaic piece from below the table. “And all it takes is a touch from the master’s hand. Our lives are like that, too. Only, we’re not broken the way eggshells are; we’re tested through the fire like swords are. But whether you’re an eggshell, a piece of metal to be melted and hardened, or a piece of clay that gets tempered, for something useful to come out, for something truly beautiful to become a part of reality, it must endure.”

He dabbed the shells onto the rest of the mosaic, carefully going about his work as he addressed Hoya.

“Do you know that for the tea set that you drink of to get to where it is, it must prove itself to be strong as well as beautiful? Those things are useless when they’re brittle, no matter how beautiful they are, because beauty can only get so far. There has to be something besides beauty that will give it value.

“Tell me, Hoya, do you know how katanas, the beautiful ones especially, are made?”

Hoya shook his head and replied, “No.”

“First, they are extracted from their ores,” he said, as he crushed another eggshell under his palm. “Then, they are melted into a mould, hammered under high heat, then submerged in cold water to solidify. They become beautiful by etching and carving; artisans carve each detail painstakingly on their faces, making sure that every detail is correct, that nothing is left out. Then, they are tested. If they are not sharp enough, then they will be sharpened. But if they are not strong enough, then they are thrown back into the fire.

“The tea set that you drink of, the katana that you see outside, the glass that makes up the window—all of them were tempered, tested, and they endured much hardships to get to where they are now.

“This eggshell? I never intended for you to keep it forever. I was waiting for you to break it and tell me that you did so. Because sometimes, we need to break to become what we were meant to be. We have the touch of the Master’s hand, Hoya, and even if you’re not particularly endowed with anything special to the outward eye, you are gifted. But you have to wait; you have to persevere and endure the challenge.”

The sound of eggshells breaking was beginning to get on Hoya’s ears, grating them unkindly.

“You know, the reason why there are so many things in this house is because I have committed myself to learning as many modes of communication there is. It just so happens that what I have is an affinity to the arts. I know all the traditional ethnic dances of my home country. I can carve jade; I can paint; I can write calligraphy. I can do so many things, but not because I was endowed with many gifts. Because sometimes, the touch of the Master’s hand only gives us enough ability to do something, but not necessarily something that will awe the world. But that one touch makes us worth it.

“You had broken the eggshell. It’s broken, it definitely is, but that doesn’t mean it’s rubbish. You know why? Because all it takes is for someone who knows how to work it to make it into something that even gems cannot attain in the hands of a man who cannot and will not choose to touch it and work with it,” he said, finishing the mosaic.

It was the image of a flower arrangement—with the hoya flower as the centerpiece.

“You’re worth it, Hoya. You can achieve your dreams, you can be what you want. You’re valuable because you have the Master’s touch. But you have to endure. Because if the eggshell thinks it’s not worth it and goes straight to the trash bin, then it’s never going to become a work of art. So many things that people think are rubbish can be made into something useful, something beautiful. It’s just difficult to see sometimes. But trust me. Just clench your jaw a little longer, you’re going to make it,” Hangeng assured him.

True enough, as if by magic, Hangeng’s words rang true. Not long after that day, Hoya received a call from Woollim Entertainment, one of the agencies he had auditioned at, and soon, he was put into a team with six other boys. Together, they hoped to showcase their infinite charms and reach the top no matter how long or difficult the road they were on may be.

And Hoya never again faltered, because he knew, even after Hangeng left for home, that he had the touch of the Master’s hand. He was given a gift, and no matter how seemingly small it was, he could make it grow by cultivating it. And even if challenges come, trying to deter him off his path, all he had to do was look at the simple eggshell and remember that challenges were made to make us beautiful and strong. All we had to do was pick up the pieces and give them to the Master.