They did eat (a very late) dinner that night but it’s not Jongwoon’s treat and Heechul is fortunately not included, choosing to stay at the hospital until Youngwoon’s family arrives, because if he is, Kyuhyun will probably get a glimpse of hell. It’s Maestro Jang’s treat after they won fourth place for the group competition, after Ryeowook won second place the solo competition, and after Jongwoon and Kyuhyun won first place the duet competition. He treats everyone, even the students who support them in the audience, but ultimately lets Jongwoon go.

“You’re going without saying goodbye?” Maestro Jang asks, catching his half of first place winners for the duet competition leaving through the back door of the auditorium.

Jongwoon stops even though at that point, he really doesn’t want to stop anymore because if he does, he might not leave in the end. There is so much holding him back in this place that he knows he’s only imagining the constricting feeling on his chest for his heart disease. He stops, pulls back his hand from the door’s knob and turns to the man who’s been as father to him as a stranger can be.

“When are you leaving?” Maestro Jang asks, walking towards Jongwoon.

“Tomorrow,” Jongwoon answers, looking up at the professor who is more than a music teacher, composer, and coordinator to him.

“Tomorrow,” the maestro repeats with an undertone, like he is humming an afterthought. It sounds like a song, a song of goodbye as he comes closer and reaches to Jongwoon.

He doesn’t want to cry.

He doesn’t want to cry anymore but at that moment, all those emotions and feelings and pain and heartaches and questions and hopes he’s been holding since he saw Kyuhyun at the auditorium rooftop, since he talked to Kyuhyun again, disagreed with him, fought with him. Since he sang with Kyuhyun at the stage like no one else is there with them, like no one is listening, like there is no competition going on but just them standing across each other, trying to convey the feelings that are there – or never there.

He doesn’t want to cry.

Jongwoon doesn’t want to cry.

“You know, Jongwoon,” Maestro Jang embraces him and his sadness, reaching to a son that isn’t his own, to a good person who is almost unreachable anymore. “You’re a good person. Don’t stop being good.”

Jongwoon doesn’t want to cry.

“When you have time,” the maestro continues, pretending he is standing on a rain only made for him and there are raindrops damping his coat, “sing.”

Jongwoon doesn’t want to cry.

“And when you want to come back, the music room is always going to be a place you can call yours — actually, ours.”

Jongwoon doesn’t want to cry but he does. He doesn’t want to cry but he does so badly it feels like his eyes are going to tear and his heart is going to vanish as the maestro holds him together and sings a song he has not heard before. He realizes the words are the same as what he and Kyuhyun sang, but it’s a different tone, a different melody and it conveys a different message.

Soon, when Jongwoon needs to pull away, he asks the maestro, “Maestro, what’s the song you just sang?”

“It’s your song,” Maestro Jang answers.

“It’s… different,” Jongwoon confusedly says, because what he and Kyuhyun sang is a song of loneliness, of sheer melancholy, of being not good enough and of not being able to hold on. But what Maestro Jang sang is a song of hope, of trying to be the best and trying to hold on even if there is almost no thread left to hold on to. Of not — no, never giving up.

“Yes,” the maestro agrees with a knowing smile. “But it’s still your song.”

Jongwoon thinks he understands as he reaches to the maestro again and hugs the man tightly, a silent speech of gratitude for all the lessons he learned from him, from music notes to breathing strategies to more important lessons in life. He doesn’t know when he’ll see the maestro again but he is sure he is one of the people he will long to see again when he leaves. He is sure he is one of the people he will want to see again when he comes back. If he comes back.

“Congratulations for winning first place, by the way,” Maestro Jang says, like he just remembers it and they both chuckle.

“That’s you, maestro,” Jongwoon says truthfully. “That’s you.”

The maestro shakes his head but keeps his gaze at his student, remembering the first time he saw Jongwoon walking uncertainly inside the room and almost leaving, had not someone going in bumped into him. He shuffled on his feet awkwardly as he called the room in order and he has no choice but to sit on the nearest seat.

“Goodbye, maestro,” his student finally says.

“See you again, Jongwoon.”

Smoke from the grill of meat and seafood is in the air as they feast on the dinner in front of them, celebrating the triple win they have that year. The university choir has always been winning but it has been the first time in five years that they win first place again and that’s because of Kyuhyun and Jongwoon’s duet. Everyone is singing, chatting or fooling around as they eat but the other half of first place winners for the duet competition that is actually with them is stirring his chopsticks at his empty bowl, just staring.

He is not looking for Jongwoon because he asked Maestro Jang where the older is earlier and the maestro told him he already left. He is not looking for Jongwoon because there is no reason for him to look at him. He is not looking for Jongwoon because he doesn’t want to see him or to be with him. He is not looking for Jongwoon because he is not here.

Suddenly, Kyuhyun dumps his head on the table, not wanting to think of anything anymore, surprising everyone on the long table and finally realizing he is not on his room, he is not on his bed, and he is not alone. He straightens up and looks around sheepishly, chuckling to his silliness by himself and bowing randomly at the other members of the choir but especially at the maestro.

“Sorry,” he chants, murmurs – or what you call it when he is saying something he thinks he is saying but it’s coming incoherently at other people because he really doesn’t think he is saying it.

“Kyu, are you okay?” Ryeowook asks worriedly.

“Yeah,” Kyuhyun answers with a grin.

Ryeowook looks at him curiously but keeps silent.

“I – Uh,” Kyuhyun stands up and bows at everyone again. Suddenly, everything feels ty. Everything doesn’t feel right and he just wants to go home. He just wants to sleep on the bed he grew up with when he was still a child and nothing’s ever a problem unless there’s not enough chocolate filling in his sandwich or he’s not sleeping with the lights on. “I’m going first, guys. We have – We have a game tomorrow.”

Everyone looks at him but doesn’t say anything, half knowing what is going on but not really understanding. It’s amazing what trends can do, carry people to the edge even though they don’t know what is really going on and then when the trend is over, people think how stupid it actually was.

Maestro Jang looks concerned at Kyuhyun but also doesn’t say anything.

“Congratulations to us, guys!” Kyuhyun says lastly to the group before walking towards the maestro.

“Can you go home by yourself?”

“Yes, Maestro,” Kyuhyun answers seriously with all respect due to the last person Jongwoon talked to, to one of the few person who understands him – them.

Maestro Jang nods and doesn’t say anything anymore because he knows there is still something Kyuhyun wants to say. He offers him a small smile, even though he knows it will not mean anything to what Kyuhyun needs, it still gives a sense of security to his student and he bows formally at the maestro he is thankful to.

“Thank you,” Kyuhyun says with everything in him, “for letting me sing with him one last time.”

The maestro purses his lips and nods, extending his hand to gently pat Kyuhyun’s shoulder, still bowed down to him. He knows they look up to him and he knows they respect him but during times like this, when he can’t do anything except offer a hug or pat on the shoulder to his students who are hurting, going through something but are letting him be their mentor, letting him teach them direct their voice and letting him and the world hear just how beautiful their voices can be, these times he feels useless.

Kyuhyun leaves, on his hand is the original sheet of lyrics the maestro gave him and Jongwoon as a congratulatory gift for winning. The maestro told them it’s for them, he wrote the words for them, he put the music together for them, and he’s not going to give or sell the piece to anybody but the two of them. He grasps at the sheet tightly, because that’s going to be the last piece of string between him and Jongwoon.