A/N: Italics are memories, The grey color is in Minho's pov... and since he's not really on earth entirely I thought I would distinguish it. There will be more chapters. 

The thin music sheets were still lying on the floor; the black lines and notes a mess of blurry images as he hugged himself and the tears fell. They would stay there, ever since the moment he pushed them off the table in his pain and disbelief. He hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor either, for how could he when the person who would normally come and get him up when he was down couldn’t anymore? It felt like the world was crashing in on his shoulders, and his backbone was gone. He crumbled under the pressure, his shoulders shaking from the hard desperate sobs that raked his body. It was supposed to be him. It was supposed to be him performing at that damn show. It was supposed to be him standing on that stage. It was supposed to be him that got that bullet.

He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to the man; the gorgeous, happy, loving man that took his place at the venue because he knew his boyfriend’s voice wasn’t up for it. Minho had an amazing voice, but not many got to hear it because he was known for his nimble fingers on the strings of a violin. They had met through music, both of them playing in the same orchestra, and he had been utterly amazed at the talent that poured out of the younger man.

He balled up his fists and slammed them against the hard wooden floor. He didn’t feel the throbbing of them, of the ache of his back from being bent like he was, because he felt numb. His entire body was fuzzy and numb as he tried to wrap his head around what had happened. The phone was still lying on the counter; cracked and broken from when the man had slammed in hard against the marble surface when he heard the news.

He should be finishing his new piece for the concert in a month, but the sheets that held his work were scattered just like his heart, and they didn’t matter anymore. It was supposed to be with violin accompaniment, Minho’s violin, but the muse was gone and so was his heart.

He pushed himself off the floor slowly, crumpling the pages in his hands before tossing them in the fire. He in a deep breath, it rough and pained as he watched the notes he had worked on month writing burn into ash as the fire swelled in strength.

“I don’t… need them… without … you.” He sniffled hard before shutting his eyes and turning from the fire. He gave one last glance at the piano that held so many memories between them, before grabbing his knees and heading to the morge. Apparently God wanted to torture him even more and make him have the last memory of him being cold and gone instead of the warm happy kiss he gave before he left to go the venue not even 3 hours before.

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The man’s deep happy laughter warmed his heart. “Jinki stop that! Play the piece and not M.C. Hammer.”

Jinki beamed as he nudged him playfully. “I thought you liked it when I played?”

The other man stuck his tongue out at him as he gently flicked his finger against Jinki’s hand. “We have a concert tonight. I would love it if my partner knew what to play.”  

Jinki just stood up from the beautifully polished black grand piano and stood behind the still sitting violinist. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around the man; softly kissing his cheek as he smiled and whispered, “If you really thought I would need more than an hour to learn this then you would have chosen the piece before the day of. Come cuddle with me Baby. I’m rather cold, and you know how I hate to play when I’m cold.” 

The man’s laugh is different this time. It’s soft and warm, full of love and affection as he brings his hands up to gently grip the man’s arms. “You’re so needy.”

But he was standing up and grabbing his hand firmly, pulling him back into their shared bedroom. It was 2 in the afternoon, but both were still in their pajamas from the night before. Jinki jumped onto the bed, smiling foolishly up at the still standing man above him before turning over onto his back and pulling the taller yet younger man onto his chest. There was a soft grunt on impact, but then the older man was snaking his arms around his boyfriend’s middle and nuzzling his nose into his neck. “And you’re a big softie.”

He rolled them over, smiling widely at the older man that was nestled between his legs. He wrapped his arms tightly around the man’s thin waist and kissed his nose. “Only for you Jinki.”

Jinki butted their noses together before laying his head on the younger man’s chest; nuzzling his slightly chubby cheek against the soft warm fabric of his t-shirt. “Aren’t you glad you said yes to me Minho?”

“I dunno Baby. I’d have a lot more strings that wouldn’t have been broken and more food in my fridge.”

Jinki glared but didn’t lift his head. He just softly smacked the man’s arm. “Hey! You like feeding me. It gives me my plushness.”

Minho chuckled and softly pinched the man’s side, where it was slightly chubby. “I do like your plushness.”

“Where’s the blanket?” Jinki mumbled sleepily, and Minho just smiled fondly before reaching for the folded blanket beside them. He didn’t mind the older man lying on him, so he just threw the blanket over the both of them and hugged him tighter. “I love you Bambi.”

“Love you too Thumper.” Jinki’s nose scrunched up at the nickname, and Minho kissed his hair. “Rest for a couple hours, and then we really have to practice okay?”

Jinki smacked his mouth a little before nuzzling closer to him, “Sure. Practice later after rest.”

Minho just shook his head. There would be no practice later and the older man would still be completely prefect come the performance.

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Watching the man gently pack away the violin as tears fell from his cheeks was like a stab to his heart, if his heart could beat again that was. He always hated seeing the older man upset, but he had always been there to help him get through whatever was bothering him. Now he wasn’t; he couldn’t hold the man anymore. He could just lay with him on the bed, watch him stare at the seemingly empty space on the other side of the bed and watch him cry. He would wait until he cried himself to sleep before slowly reaching out to wipe the tear away, but his hand always fell through the man.

It broke his heart even more when the man wouldn’t touch an instrument; not even the piano that he had such a deep love and talent for. He had fallen for the man’s utter and complete love for his craft, and at the pure passion he felt as he played. Jinki seemed empty now, and it wasn’t just because Minho had died. It was like that burning passion and love for life and the piano were extinguished the moment he learned the younger man was gone.

As he watched the man shuffle out of bed and walk to the kitchen he followed like normal; sitting on the counter that he normally did as the older man moved around to cook breakfast for them. Now his breakfast consisted of a bowl, milk and frosted flakes; because he never picked up eggs anymore. Minho had always done the grocery shopping list, giving it to the older man and both going out to get the things they needed. Jinki was just content with having milk and bread and maybe the occasional pack of lunch meat.

It had been 3 months since the shooting at the music venue, and the man hadn’t touched a musical instrument or sheet of music once during them. No music was ever heard around the house, not in his car; even though he used to love to play the cassette he had of Minho playing his solo at the symphony years before.

Minho frowned as the older man fumbled with his key. After the door was opened and the man slid in the younger man sighed and sat in the car. He wasn’t really sure how the whole being a ghost thing worked, but he could sit on things one minute and walk through others like they weren’t there a moment later. But he never was able to physically touch Jinki, to tell him that he wasn’t alone, and that’s what he really wanted to be able to do.

His heart lurched in his chest when he heard the man mutter, “Why did God make me alone? Why did he have to take you out of all the people in the world?”

Minho found himself mumbling, “But I haven’t left you. You aren’t alone my lovely Thumper.”

But Jinki didn’t hear him. He never did. He just wiped the tiredness from his eyes and turned the key in the ignition. Taemin was waiting for him at his chocolate shop. He didn’t want to be late.

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