Jung Daehyun opens the door to his sister’s room quietly and peeks inside, hoping that the waft of the breakfast he just made would wake her up. He doesn’t have the heart to do that himself. 

If there’s one person he treasures the most in this world, it would be his little sister, the only person left for him after his parents and older sister died in an accident a year ago.

So he decides to wait a bit more before he eats his own breakfast and go to campus. Sure enough, the pile of blankets on the bed inside starts moving slightly.

Daehyun smiles and tiptoes down the stairs, ready to give his little sister the brightest and most cheerful greeting to start the day.

♫

The bell rings like Death warning his victims.

Choi Junhong cusses in his mind as he sprints in the corridor, desperate to get to the classroom before Death. It’s not like he’s usually punctual, it’s just that today’s first period is homeroom, and he better not be late in Coach Yongguk’s presence.

Why he has his P.E. teacher slash basketball coach as his homeroom teacher, it’s probably a punishment from God for always slacking off and talking back.

His sneakers make a loud, unnatural screeching sound as he turns into the classroom, just a few seconds before Yongguk seonsangnim appears on the door frame.

“Aaand safe!” Junhong announces with triumph, causing the whole class to laugh.

He receives high-fives on his way to his seat at the back, next to a girl he knows as Jung Hyunae. The girl doesn’t laugh like the other, but she does give him a warm, bright smile. She smells like breakfast. Junhong’s stomach growls.

♫

Bang Yongguk shakes his head as he waits for the class to calm down after the ruckuss Junhong made. Really, that rascal, he thought as he eyes the star basketball player sitting down at his assigned seat.

Yongguk was the person responsible of assigning Junhong’s seat. He figured that a boy as wild as Junhong would at least keep his bearing in check with a girl like Jung Hyunae beside him. A girl who’s always on the top of the class and is currently pursuing a scholarship abroad.

It is an either wondrous or disastrous pair, those too. But weird enough, they seem to get a long well.

Yongguk smiles, remembering another pair who are on par with them. And just so it happens, the female role was filled by Hyunae’s older sister.

♫

“Seonsangnim, the keys.”

A head of straight brown hair urges Kim Himchan. It’s the usual exchange every afterschool. There’s only one girl in school who always asks the key to the music room, but Himchan lifts his head to see just in case.

“Why don’t you just call me oppa?”

“I can’t do that at school!” the little head replies in distress, “Come on, just give me the keys!”

Himchan laughs as he hands her the keys, “Don’t forget to lock it again when you’re finished. And you have piano tutoring this Saturday, okay?”

The girl nods and runs off right away, obviously can’t wait to press the keys of the old piano.

Himchan brings up the palm of his hand and stares at the spot where his fingers touched the girl’s hand for a moment. He feels his eyes getting hot. His mouth opens and closes slightly, calling a name in silent agony.

♫

Yoo Youngjae likes the breeze. He himself is regarded as a breezy person. And the motorcycle he got for his daily commute to campus really supports his image.

He is on his way to his childhood friend’s house for dinner (as always) when he sees a high school girl walking alone in the corner of his eyes. He quickly hit the brakes and turns to look.

The girl looks at him curiously. Her lips break into a wide smile when Youngjae finally opens his helmet.

“Hyunae! Hop on!” he says cheerfully, and the girl gladly complies.

♫

Moon Jongup lets out a relieved sigh when he enters his house, welcomed by the familiar chattering of his family. He had had a really tiring basketball practice, and finally arriving at home is such a good feeling. Dealing with that war machine Choi Junhong is not easy business, even if he’s Jongup’s junior.

After he greets his family members and take a shower, he goes straight to his bedroom.

Jongup opens his slingbag and takes out a digital voice recorder. He presses some buttons and puts it upright on his study desk. Silence. A chair, pulled around. Papers shuffled. And then finally, the sound of piano.

This is no ordinary music. He realized early this year that every afternoon, after the last bell of the day, someone always plays the piano in the usually-vacant music room. He likes to listen to it silently, by sitting down under the open window of the room. Lately he’s busier with basketball, so he hides a voice recorder there whenever he has the chance.

Jongup closes his eyes as he listens to the recording of the piano, note by beautiful note.