To this day, I still haven’t learned how to play the guitar. I know how to play basic chords—G, A, and D, to be specific. But beyond that, I’m stuck. When I tell people this, they tell me, “But you play the cello. It should be an easy crossover.” It isn’t. The first difference is that you have to place more fingers on more strings. That’s a huge difference. You have to take care not to touch other strings, and that’s just a lot of work.

“Teach me a chord,” I said as I slung the guitar over to my thigh.

“What do you want to learn?”

“Um… I don’t know, either.”

“What song do you want to learn?” He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and started gulping it down.

“The easiest one.” As soon as he was within touching distance, I took the bottle away from him and took a sip.

He made a face. “Get your own!”

“You should’ve gotten one for me too!”

He plopped down on the sofa next to me and took the guitar away, strumming pretty but, sadly, unknown chords.

“What’s with the sudden interest in guitars again?”

“I don’t know. I heard a really good acoustic song on the radio?”

He scoffed.

“What?” I turned so I was facing him.

"You'll lose interest in about ten seconds."

He's right. But I'm not about to tell him that. "Why do you always hate on me?"

Instead of answering me, he asked me his own question.

“Remember from way back when we just met each other?”

“Which part?”

“The part where you said almost the same exact things, except with the piano,” he laughed.

“I didn’t say anything like that.”

“Yeah you did. You were the weirdest thing. We just met, and suddenly you were asking if I could teach you chords on the piano.”

“I was trying to break the ice!”

“You were an awkward kid. Still are,” he shook his head, mock pity on his face.

I punched his arm. “You wouldn’t have talked to me otherwise!”

“I would’ve.”

“We’ve been sitting side by side in rehearsals for the longest time and you weren’t talking to me!”

“How do you expect me to talk to you when we have the drums playing in the background? It’s a rehearsal. Nobody’s supposed to be talking.”

“But there were breaks,” I reminded him.

“Well…” he scratched his head.

“See?” I gave him a triumphant smirk.

“But it wasn’t the longest time; it was just two rehearsals before you started talking to me. You just thought I was cute.”

“Yeah, I did. Happy?” I stuck my tongue out.

He nodded enthusiastically.

Long story short, we both played in the pit for a musical production in high school. Yes, we go that far back. I played the cello for our orchestra while he played the piano for jazz band. We’ve never really met each other before that. It just so happened that we were situated next to each other, cello next to the piano. Roughly fifteen rehearsals together and six nights of full shows later, we somehow became inseparable.

Truth be told, I had the largest crush on him back in the day. I don’t think anyone could have resisted Lay—when he played the piano, all else melted away. It was just him, fingers on the black and white keys, his heart on his sleeves as emotion carried over to music. It was something beautiful to behold, even when adolescence weren’t his best years. (Suffice to say, he looks better than ever.)

I know you’re burning to ask me something. Go ahead, spew it out. Why didn’t it work out? Well I guess it’s just because I never mustered enough courage to ask him out. That awkward first conversation we had way back when really was awkward because I was trying to hit on him. But it went completely over his head. I guess it’s all safely behind us now.

“Oppa.” I rarely call him that. But high school memories were suddenly flooding back, and I guess it came out that way.

He looked surprised. “Yeah?”

“We’re best friends, right?”

He stopped strumming the guitar.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, I guess it’s been forever, so I can tell you now.”

“Tell me what?”

“Don’t be disgusted or anything, but I had the biggest crush on you when we were in high school.”

“You did?”

I expected him to laugh at me, to tell me I’m gross. Instead, he kept silent.

“Yeah. Two years, actually.” Until he left for college. Until it was too late to tell him. But even after he graduated, I still continued nursing my one-sided affection.

“You did?” he merely repeated.

“Hey, but the keyword is ‘had.’ I don’t now, so don’t feel awkward around me all of a sudden.” I suddenly felt defensive.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because as you could probably remember, you had a girlfriend back then. She was nice too. How could I even tell you?”

“Huh.”

“And because I didn’t want it to get awkward.” Like it’s becoming now. I expected him to tease me. Not this.

“I never knew.”

I scoffed. “Yeah. It’s like your way of telling me I was friendzoned. But we aren’t so bad now, right?”

“No, I guess we’re not." His expression was unreadable.

This is the first time in a long time that we’re awkward with each other. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.

“So…”

“Timing’s pretty funny, isn’t it?” He suddenly said.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

--

Just thought I'd give y'all a bit of backstory. More will be coming in the future, I think.

I'm not sure if all of y'all are familiar with Orchestra Pits, but basically, they're just a lowered area in front of the stage where the musicians play live music. Here's a picture:

BUT. OMG you guys! I gave you guys a poll. And what did you guys decide to give me? 

Chanyeol- 13 votes
Lay- 13 votes
Sehun- 13 votes

WHAT DO YOU GUYS EXPECT ME TO DO WITH THAT? hahahaha I know I wrote this story with the goal to make the ending otp ambiguous, but I may have done my job a bit too well. I need something more decisive than... well, those results. OMG. What do I do with all of you? Tsk tsk. Hahaha (But I still love y'all, no matter what. <3 )

You know what would be better? If you commented which guy you ship her with. That way I know for sure that the votes aren't from random poll-answer-ers who aren't reading the fic at all. hahaha (because I'm guilty of doing that once in a while...)