Hoon returned to practice after only a day off, bitter and heartbroken but with the knowledge that he couldn’t dwell on things forever. s needed him. He went with a heavy heart. He sang. He danced. There were events to attend, performances to hold. It would have been easier if they hadn’t been right in the middle of promotions. He faked his way through all of them, putting on a smile and pretending to be happy while he still felt like his life had crumbled to nothing. He was starting to piece things back together finally, but it still hurt.

As time went on and the days turned into weeks, and promotions ceased, things started become better for him. Not much, but marginally so. It was still incredibly difficult.

He eyed his phone, debating whether he should call Serin while they drove home in the van. He didn’t want to though. He didn’t want the guys to hear his conversation. He didn’t want to bring them down any more with his personal tragedy. He’d be home within the hour anyway, and he didn’t have the strength to listen to the pain that had seemed to take up permanent residence in her tone.

When they finally returned and were about to all go their separate ways, Soohyun pulled him aside. Gently and with great caution he asked, “How are things?”

Hoon frowned. “Better, I guess.”

“I’m not at all convinced, Hoonie.”

“I can handle this. Don’t worry about me.

Soohyun didn’t push for an answer. “How’s Serin doing? I’ve been too busy to stop by and visit. I hope she’s starting to heal some.”

Hoon shook his head. “She’s not. Serin is… drinking. A lot. She can’t handle the heartbreak. She cries herself to sleep still. She hasn’t worked at all in the past month. I’m really worried about her.”

“That’s… not good,” Soohyun said somberly. “How are you doing?”

“As good as I can be, I guess. Each day things get a little better. I try not to think about stuff too much. A little time and perspective has helped me. But it kills me to go home and see Serin still so broken over it and blaming herself. I almost don’t even want to see her or talk to her right now.”

“That’s not going to help anything,” Soohyun reprimanded. “It’ll make her more upset. Blame herself more.”

“I know. Just… it hurts me so much to see her still so upset. I feel bad for starting to move on.”

Soohyun frowned. “You have to get over it, Hoonmin,” Soohyun said firmly. “You can’t ignore her because you feel bad about moving on while she isn’t. She needs your support.”

Hoon nodded, saying, “You’re right. Of course, you are. I care so much about her that seeing her in pain like this is almost more than I can handle. I never imagined I’d have to go through such terrible heartbreak. Everything has been so tumultuous, and I’m ready for it to stop. I want things to go back to the way they were before.”

“Things never will. You can only go forward and grow from your past experiences,” Soohyun explained quietly. “Go home, Hoonie. You’re tired. Get some sleep. I’ve been as kind and understanding as I possibly can. However, I can’t keep letting your mistakes slide forever. Put effort into fixing things. We’re all worried. People are noticing how withdrawn you’ve been. I know it’ll take time, but fix things with Serin first. Neither of you need the extra stress of relationship troubles.”

Hoon nodded, and Soohyun left, heading home for the evening.

--

When Hoon walked into his home that night, it took him a moment to figure out where Serin was. She wasn’t in bed, but she was definitely home. He panicked briefly, before realizing she was probably just playing piano in the studio. He wandered down to the studio and found her facedown on the keyboard. He felt a pang of regret when he saw her. Two bottles of soju strewn on the floor and a third halfway empty on the bench beside her. He didn’t wake her up, simply sitting down beside her, moving her so she rested on his shoulder instead of the keyboard, and playing the piece propped on the piano, one she’d obviously been writing.

It was probably the darkest ballad he’d ever heard. It was sorrowful and gloomy. It wasn’t her usual bright and happy music, but he wasn’t exactly surprised. It was incomplete, and when he reached the end, he picked up where she’d left off, playing low dissonant chords. He didn’t realize that she’d woken up until after he finished, and she quietly said, “That’s not quite right.”

“Are you drunk?” he asked her.

“A little, maybe,” she replied. “I probably slept most of it off.”

“How long were you sleeping here?”

“I don’t remember anything after about 8 pm,” she admitted.

“So you slept here for about 4 hours then. Serin… I think… maybe you should go back to work,” he told her softly.

“I… can’t. It’s too soon.”

He in a steadying breath. “I know it still hurts. I still... sometimes I cry in the van. Or after a performance. Sometimes Soohyun says something about my dancing or singing, and I have to fight back tears because I can’t deal with it at that moment. But I can’t ignore my responsibilities. To you, to my fans. To the members and the company. And it’s the same for you.”

“I… can’t,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

“You can,” he encouraged. “Staying here, composing song after song isn’t going to bring our baby back.”

“I know,” she choked out, closing her eyes together tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

“I know it hurts. I know it’s hard. Trust me, Serin. I know. Better than anyone. But you can’t dwell on it forever. I didn’t fall in love with a shut in with no courage. You have so much courage and fight, and seeing you this broken hurts me almost as much as the miscarriage itself does. Please, for my sake, try.”

She sat looking down, considering his words. “Okay,” she agreed eventually. “I’ll try.”

--

Her heart was burdened when she entered the office, but a small part of her felt good to be back. She went to see her father first, who welcomed her happily, glad to see her out at last. They had all visited her. Her brothers and father, Hoon’s parents, Hoonbi, even the members had stopped in when they could. That she was finally making an attempt to return to her normal life after everything was reassuring to her father. “Hyunsaeng has been filling in for you in your absence,” he told her, “so go talk to him. He’ll catch you back up. And Serin, I’m glad you’re back. Don’t feel like you need to push yourself too hard.” He gave her a hug then and let her go back to work.

--

Hoon could see that working again was helping her, but with their departure for a Japan tour only a few days away, he was starting to worry. She was better, but he didn’t feel okay with leaving her on her own. He was trying to work out a plan. Certainly, he couldn’t stay with her. And bringing her along was also out of the question. As luck would have it, he was getting ready to call his mom for advice when Hyunsaeng called him.

“Hey, hyung. What’s up?” Hoon asked.

Hyunsaeng was never one for small talk. “Hey, Hoonmin. How is Serin when you’re with her at home? Is she doing alright?”

“She seems alright. She’s still rather withdrawn, but she doesn’t seem to be drinking anymore. She’s moving on now, I think.”

“I’m kind of concerned,” Hyunsaeng told him. “You are going to be leaving her for a bit, and I’m not entirely sure she can handle that right now. As you said, she seems to be getting better. But I can’t help but worry that she’ll slip back a few steps without you around to lean on.”

“I know. I’ve been thinking the same thing. I don’t want to leave her by herself, but I don’t really know how to bring it up. If I say anything to her, she’s just going to get upset with me.”

“I can do it,” Hyunsaeng volunteered. “I’ll talk to her and make sure she’s got company while you’re gone. I know she’s still hurting. She’s throwing herself into work now to forget about things.”

“Yeah. That’s what I’ve been doing, though it’s not like I really have a choice. We’re really busy.”

“I know,” his brother-in-law told him. “Which is exactly why I said I’d look out for her when you couldn’t.”

“I appreciate it. I want her to stay happy, but the last several months have been really hard for both of us. I couldn’t protect her from her own pain. And I just… wish it hadn’t happened.”

“It’s too late for it now, Hoonmin,” Hyunsaeng said gently, surprisingly tender. “I know how much both of you were looking forward to being parents. But you’ll have other chances. There’s a lot of life for you to live. You’ll have a baby eventually. It just wasn’t meant to be this time.”

Hoon was touched. Hyunsaeng had never been quite this kind and supportive to him. “Thank you, hyung. It means a lot.”

“It’s nothing. I will protect my sister. And you too. You can count on me.”

Hoon thanked him once more. He wasn’t entirely sure what Hyunsaeng would do to watch out for her, but he was certainly glad for it because it helped put his mind to ease about leaving.

--

Finally back and lying comfortably in bed with Serin, Hoon brought up a topic he’d been thinking about for a while. “Do you remember when we talked about introducing you publicly to the fans?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sure you remember that we have a showcase for the Japanese KissMes in the next month, too…”

“Yes, I remember you telling me.”

“Well, I mentioned that we could have you come for a brief performance, and the idea wasn’t outright rejected. I just wanted to make sure you actually wanted to do it before I really push the issue.”

“I would… like to,” she said after considering.

“Alright. I’ll talk it over then. You’re okay with flying to Japan to perform?

“It’s okay with me. Are we going to have to sing in Japanese though?”

“Yeah,” he told her. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you with that.”

“I’m in,” she agreed.

“What sort of performance do you want to do?”

She thought for a moment. “I think… that song,” she answered vaguely.

“Which song?” he asked as she stood up and walked out of the living area, headed down the stairs. He followed her, not at all sure what she was talking about.

She went to the studio and began searching through stacks of notebooks. “This one,” she announced, pulling out a black notebook and skimming through it, trying to find the piece she was talking about. She finally found it, and opened the notebook to the song, set it on the keyboard and sat down to play it.

Hoon listened as she played the piece for him. It was sad, but also hopeful. “When did you write this?” he asked.

“Before everything…” she explained. “I was working on it because I wanted to write a nice piano duet. I had you and Soohyun in mind, but if I change the key and we write lyrics that reflect our feelings, I think it’ll work nicely.”

Hoon sat down beside her. “Let’s start from the beginning and play it together. I want to hear the whole thing together.”

And so they did. Serin hummed the melody she had been planning on including, and Hoon nodded in satisfaction when they reached the end. “I think I’ll shift it into a minor key,” she told him. “That way we can express our sorrow. We can’t give the baby a funeral, but I at least want to do something. A way to acknowledge the life that was stolen from us far too early.”

Hoon nodded. “Let’s do that. I have the melody in my head now, so I’ll start working on lyrics and talking to the company. You’ll probably have to come in to practice with us as we prepare.”

“That’s fine,” Serin said. “It gives me something to look forward to.”

“Let’s go to bed then. It’s late. We can work out details later. We’ve still got a couple months to prepare.”

Serin nodded. “I… have something to ask you actually.”

“Yeah?” he prodded.

“Well… it’s been months since we last… well… you know. I wasn’t in any kind of mood for it then. But it’s nearly September now, and I’m worried that you’re upset with me for not…”

“Serin,” Hoon said cutting her off, “why would I be upset with you for not having with me when you could barely get up in the morning? When you drank yourself to bed? Cried yourself to sleep?”

“Still,” she said, “I want you to be happy, and I feel like I’ve been neglecting you. I’ve been way too selfish.”

He hugged her as they continued to sit on the piano bench. “You needed time to mourn. And you blamed yourself like you always do when something goes wrong. Right when you were starting to bounce back from the heartbreak, I had to leave the country. I don’t blame you. I’m not upset. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it with me if you still aren’t feeling up to it. Don’t force yourself for my sake.”

“Hoonmin,” she said, pulling back from him and standing up, “I’m not forcing myself for your sake. I’m forcing myself for me. I want things to start feeling normal again. Please, make love to me like you always do.”

She stood looking down into his eyes, desperation creeping into her expression, and Hoon had to laugh. “Okay,” he agreed. “There’s no way I can say no to such an appealing offer.” He stood with her, taking her hand, each step back to the bedroom a step signifying one step closer to regaining a bit more normalcy to their lives.

--

Serin stood in the dressing room, in awe over her reflection in the mirror. She had never looked as glamorous, with her hair and makeup done professionally and a long black designer dress. She twisted the ring, her wedding ring, nervously. She looked stunning, and she tried to draw confidence from her appearance. The skirt of the dress flowed around her, gathering on the floor. She wore a black bolero over the top half of dress. She had insisted on black. This was her eulogy, her memorial to her lost child. She wanted to wear something that she could have worn to a funeral. And so she wore a black dress, and Hoon wore a black suit.

She could hear her ruby earrings tinkling as she walked, nervously adjusting her earpiece. Hoon took her hand and gently led her forward, to the platform with the pianos. He walked her to her side, and helped her sit down on the white bench. He bent down and whispered to her, “Fighting. You’ll be just fine. You’re the best pianist I’ve ever heard. Don’t let nerves get the better of you. I know this isn’t your first time performing, so just breath and do it like we practiced.”

“This is just the most important audience I’ve ever played for,” she whispered.

“You’ll do fine,” he assured.

She nodded her acknowledgement, and he kissed her quickly on the cheek, before going to sit at the adjacent piano. Their platform was raised and an eerie silence settled over the crowd. With a deep, steadying breath Serin began to play, like she’d practiced hundreds of times. Hoon joined her, and his melodic voice fed through her earpiece. She gazed at him across the piano, and started singing the melody with him. Carrying the melody alone, he began harmonizing. Together they played, expressing their deep sorrow over their lost child through their expressions and tone.

She had forgotten that she was on stage, that there was anybody else other than Hoon in the whole building. As she sang to him, playing the song she’d written, her emotions started building. Everything, all of her hopes, stresses, disappointments, and fears all threatened to overwhelm her. She could see the expression she knew she was making reflected on Hoon’s face. The emotions were powerful and all consuming. The last chorus, and she pushed her way through, voice wavering as she fought back her tears during her last note. She could hear the uncertain quality in Hoon’s voice, as well. She played the outro on the piano, and she couldn’t fight the tears any more. They streamed down her face, and not able to see the keyboard, she finished the song by muscle memory. She was done. She had done it. The audience sat in stunned silence.

Hoon walked around, a few tears b in his eyes, and took her hand, helping her up and leading her to the front of the grand pianos. Fingers entwined with hers, he had them bow for the audience. It was then that applause rippled through the venue, a sign that all in attendance had been touched by the emotional performance. Tears still fell down Serin’s face, and Hoon wiped them away, smiling at her gently. The platform they were on was lowered, and as the disappeared from the audience’s view, he gently placed his head against hers. “Shh,” he whispered when he was sure his mic was off. “You did great. You don’t need to cry anymore.”

He had to rush to prepare for the next stage, but as she made her way back to the dressing room in a haze, she was aware that Soohyun, Kevin, and Kiseop had also been crying. The makeup artists were touching up their makeup before they went on stage. And more than the applause of the audience, she was glad that she had touched the U-KISS member’s hearts. It was the love and support they had for Hoon and the love and support she and Hoon had for each other that had helped them weather the storm. She wiped her tears one last time and smiled. This was goodbye to her lost baby. Being able to finally express her emotions publically to the fans had felt like a confession. And the unity and sympathy that she had felt like she received during the performance made her feel lighter, as though she’d been accepted. The heartache of the last months lifted almost instantly, the guilt she carried over the secret marriage disappeared, and Serin felt, for the first time in years, a true sense of peace.