Waves of melodies and music produced by different instruments echoes nonstop on the music department. It was the time of preparation, the student body had a week to hold up every stall they needed, to paint all the set they’ll be using, to finalize ideas on their part for the school’s open house foundation days. And maybe because time is naturally fast, always put of reach, three days have already passed and almost everyone was done with their preparations. Each music piece has been practiced up to its last note, meticulously observed, because the recital will also be the midterm exam for music majors.

It has been a while since I last touched a piano; the last memory of it consists of cold keys and life emptiness in the heart. Being a music major requires me to perform at the recital too, and deciding to play a piece I already know like the back of my hand saved me some forced time of pretense rehearsals. I distanced myself from the piano, trying to locate myself that I had lost throughout the process of trying to perfect my talent. Sungmin, the only constant in my everyday since then, was always there trying to hold a conversation that would always end up being one-sided on his part. He had even offered for us to perform together on the final recital, a synchronized piano performance that only made me stare blankly at him that he took as a yes.

“Hey Kyuhyun, what are you going to perform for the midterm?” Sungmin asked at lunchtime not so long ago, and as usual, an indifferent expression was all I could answer him with as I listened to him practice his piece.

I didn’t know when it started, or how it actually happened, but I started to feel jealous of the way Sungmin handled the piano. It had so much care, so much love, and full of grace as if the piano was something as fragile as a person. It was like Sungmin was born to play that very instrument, like it was his calling, and he answered it with so much selflessness that his music was something delightful to hear. Anyone could fall in love with his music.

And it’s definitely no surprise that I wasn’t immune to its magic.

The clock reads three in the afternoon when I left the empty piano room. After lunch was my time to practice, and I chose to spend it to stare longingly at the piano, trying to regain the connection I had with it back when playing was something I enjoyed doing, back when my perception of perfection was the faults in my technique. The hours ticked by with the emptiness hollowing my heart, digging deeper because I just can’t remember how it feels anymore, no matter how I tried to remember. I opened the door and the afternoon sun blinds me momentarily as I exit the music building, the busy sound of students bustling everywhere as they shout orders to everyone everywhere filling my ears.

The day will again end with the world moving forward, getting something done for the day and prepares for the next, leaving me behind in my present – their past.

The hours continue to tick by.

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Kyuhyun was someone I couldn’t be without for a day. It just seems incomplete without his presence of constantly pretending not to care but really do, without his mask of blankness though wanting to shout everything he kept bottled inside.

He avoided music like the plague, like it could potentially hurt him at a step closer to anything associated with it, and it was painful to see. How do you actually find yourself trying to rip yourself away from something you love?

It was torture, I assume. And seeing Kyuhyun doing it proves my point.

I see the way he looks at the piano when I play for him – using the excuse of wanting to practice. I see the way he fidgets as he wages war against himself mentally as the last note of the music echoes and fades away. The silence was eating him alive, his hands visibly aching to be able to do what it loves to do but is restraint from doing so. I tried talking to him, hoping I could at least put a dent on his mask, to try and reach out to him.

But being a stranger to him still and he believes I am, it is hard. Trust was something he needed to build with me. but I doubt he even trust himself now, not when he’s constantly struggling with his own conscience.

He wanted to be perfect, flawless, but he loves the way he was lacking – there’s more room for growth that way, there’s bond created that way. There’s fun, enjoyment, happiness, life – things he forgot somewhere when he took a detour to achieve perfection. Feeling empty, incomplete and purposeless, he tries to retrace his steps, only to realize he didn’t leave any traces behind to lead him back.

And now he’s stuck.

And somehow, I wanted to try and find him. To bring him back.

The two sets of glass we ordered had arrived and we were on our way to bring it inside the building, to where the recitals will be performed next week. The glass was at least six feet in height; it was square, and quite thick that it needed four men from the music department to carry it. We were walking slowly, mindful of everyone who was walking by and what’s happening around us. We were by the stairs that connected the public grounds to the school buildings. My hands were already sweating and I could faintly hear the ticking of the second hand from my wristwatch. And somewhere in between everything happening at the same time, the world slowed down.

The person next to me tripped on his own two feet, losing his balance and tipping over the huge glass we were holding. It sliced through my palm as it slides away from my grasp, causing me to let go of the glass, feeling the red liquid spread through my hands as it leaked out of the fresh wound. The glass was falling over; there were nonstop shouts of look out as it falls. And right then I realized how despicable time can be. It chooses to slow down when it only takes a second to wipe out everything all at once.

In that split second, there was a head of thick brown hair, a blank expression that seemed to be permanently etched on that very familiar face. I heard my voice shout the person’s name somewhere in the distance that caught his attention. Brown eyes locked with mine as it widens. There was the sound of glass breaking. It was loud, like a very broken music screeching out angrily in the open. The glass shattered along with the image and reflection of the man I was almost desperate to save. Red paints the earth as it loudly shatters into pieces, piercing through creamy white skin, bruising so deep it’s sure to leave behind a scar to probably last a lifetime.

The muffled sounds gradually cleared. Everyone was panicking and rushing around into a crowd around a red puddle of broken glass and flesh. When the energy to move returns, I had forgotten that I had injured my hand because I was sure a small cut would heal itself in a matter of minutes.

“Kyu…”

But his hand, the way the glass had shattered its way with it.

“Kyu!”

I’m not sure if I could save him from being broken like this.

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A/N: I'm so sorry for the very late and short update but I had this huge writer's block and this suddenly came out of nowhere and because I was scared that I'd forget everything I just typed this out as my brain vomits everything.

I hope to update more after this though since this part  - and a few next - are my main dilemmas so bare with me? :3

Taka.Taksi