9.30 AM.

The way his body would slowly sway to each side while going from roughly pressing down the keys to softly whilst his right leg would gracefully push down the pedal. 
His face looked peaceful.

His hair had gotten a bit ruffled from the few times he‘d used to chance of his left hand's 'breathing‘ to push back his bangs which were straight, like he‘d iron it everyday, but the way he dressed up his uniform really portrayed he would most definitely not be the type to bother doing that.
He still hadn‘t noticed me. 
Not that I‘d care, I got here first. 

The small and hardly used music room kept still and my breath nearly stopped as his crescendo reached to it's maximum as he played louder and louder. The clock on the wall claimed it had been ten minutes since he arrived here. 9.40 AM.
I‘d never seen him before. 

He didn‘t look new, he looked ordinary and the way he had waltzed in and sat down infront of the piano like this was his everyday routine would most likely not be done by a regular new student.
Not that it would matter much, since being here was my routine to begin with. 

A sigh escaped his lips, as he yet again stretched his arm and pushed his hair back and then dropped both his hands down for the final chord. He held it in pushing the pedal ever so slightly down and I was pretty sure at that point I had gotten goosebumps. 
I kind of awkwardly felt like giving him an applause.

I didn‘t know how his face looked. I had been laying on a table behind where the pianist could actually see. I didn‘t know his name. I‘m wasn't one to notice at my surroundings and even not really remembering my classmates' names anyway. All I could see was his skinny frame and how gracefully he‘d press and play the piano. He didn‘t even notice me when he walked in.
Maybe he just really felt like playing.
Like really felt like it.

I guess I may have known more than any other non-piano playing person should about the piano. I noticed that on the old, grand piano in the room that the lowest c would strangely blend in with the others, and that the middle F sharp was a really off. 

“I’m sorry.” 
So he had noticed me. He had already stood up but I had yet to see his face. 
It didn’t even feel like he was talking to me. But who else would be in there.

“It’s al-“
I was about to reply but I was suddenly cut off by him stepping aside and pushing the chair back into place.
“I usually play it better,” he exclaimed. 
“Seems today is not really my day,” another sigh that would leave his lips. 
His voice was rather pretty. Softspoken. 

He sat his hand on the plate somewhat it softly. Was he talking to himself? Weird. The moment he placed his foot more to the side, attempting to turn around, probably to head to class, he lost his balance a bit. About to trip.
Well, I honestly wouldn’t have been able to catch him at that point.

He didn’t trip though. He smoothly set his hand on the chair and avoided falling. His uniform wasn’t put on correctly. The red tie, signaling he was an upper-classman, had been hurriedly tied on, or even seemed like he hardly tried. His shirt was half tucked in his pants and half out, like he had just woken up and put it on however he felt like. His vest was a bit twisted but he adjusted it while almost tripping. His head was still looking somewhat at the floor, and he seemed like he had yet not noticed me.

He lifted his head up, and he was met with my expectantly staring eyes. His expressions were unimaginable. Firstly his eyes looked tired. His eyelids seemed to drop a bit, but they widened and his mouth formed a slow ‘o’ impression. He really hadn’t noticed me.
It had been a while since I saw someone so engrossed in playing that they wouldn’t notice me. Or anyone, ever.

His facial features were soft, almost feminine. His eyes were a wooden brown and his lips plump. His nose wasn’t big nor small and his hair had gotten all messed up from pulling the bangs back earlier. He pulled his lips in to make a flat line and his brows furrowed a bit and a blush appeared on his cheeks.
He was pretty, too.
He looked a bit puzzled as if considering to bow to me, but he probably already noticed my blue tie, noticing I was younger than him. He looked awkward.

“Hey.” I let out, watching him.
“H-Hey.” He sort of croaked out.
“My name is Jongin.” His expression calmed and he put on something like a grin, directed towards me this time.
“My name is Taemin. Nice to meet you.”
 

After that incident, he’d go to the music room at exactly 9.30 AM every day during break and play the piano, while I'd plant myself on a table, lay down and watch him play. 
He never asked if I heard him talking to himself. Or if he was trying to talk to the piano. 
Not that I’d care much, I liked listening to him play.
We didn’t speak much. Sometimes he’d say to me a good morning in his bright voice. Some days he would wear his uniform properly, shirt tucked in and tie properly put under his collar. I had never spoken his name before, and he hadn’t said mine. It was like some kind of a silent relationship.

We weren’t exactly friends, but I couldn’t say I had no connection with him anymore.
It’s not like I really minded, no one played that piano anyway, and that F sharp that was slightly off didn’t seem to bother him much anyway.
Or the deep C, which was pretty off as well, when he did long chords that would blend in wrongly with the other keys.
Even though he hardly wore an expression while he played he really seemed like he enjoyed it.

All the time I would quietly sit, or lay down, sometimes not on a table but a chair, behind him and just watch him play.
The music room somehow felt even more at peace now than before.
His presence in itself was calming. Watching his hair sway with his body was soothing. Seeing him push down the pedal made me feel like I could stay like that forever. 
I’d wonder what our relationship was.

Monday, 9:35 AM.

He was late. 
It hadn’t happened before since our first encounter.
He’d always be right on time, if not a minute earlier before 9.30 AM, the first break. 
I didn’t know which class he was in.
I still hadn’t even said out loud his name to him.
He hadn’t said mine either.
I wondered how he’d say it.
 

Tuesday, 9.43 AM.

He still wasn’t there.
Maybe he got bored of playing for me. Though it was more like he was playing for himself and me just watching him. Maybe he’d arrive in the last five minutes of the break.

It kind of felt like my school days had slowly started to revolve around my upper-classman, whom I had hardly spoken to, but yet spent every 9.30 AM break with for the last three-and-a-half weeks. I lay back to the four desks put in a row, and stared at the door he’d walk in with, eyes glancing now and then to the piano. 
I kind of hoped he wasn’t bored of playing for me.

Wednesday, 9.33 AM.

He was supposed to be here by now. Maybe he had other things to do, considering he was a Junior while I was a Sophomore. 
Maybe he was just busy. Hopefully.

The breaks felt lonelier without his playing, but I’d stay there anyway. My friends were starting to question what I was always doing during this break, but I just told them it didn’t really matter.
But somehow it really felt like it did.

This time instead of sitting on a table right behind the door, I was standing in front of the piano. The piano didn’t seem as dusty as I first got here, presumably because my upper-classman had been playing it every day for around three weeks. I pressed the F sharp with my index finger. It didn't sound as good as when he'd do it.
Soon it would be a month since I met him.
And I still hadn’t addressed him properly
 

Thursday, 9:24 AM.

I had gotten there earlier than I planned to. My first lesson was supposed to start after the break, so I didn’t need to come there.
But I felt curious.
Or more like, anxious.
Would he be here today?
Would he play for me?

I felt almost restless, staring at the door. 
I didn’t understand. It’s wasn't as if we were friends, anyway. Or what even were we?
Acquaintances? A sophomore and a junior who knew each other kind of?
Even friends?

I checked my watch; 9.31 AM, when the door was opened cautiously. A familiar brown-head of a junior pianist looked in. He noticed me right away and I felt a sigh of relief inaudibly slide through my lips. 
Had he done that on purpose?

He had an air mask on. Had he been sick? Little wrinkles of smiling appeared around his eyes, and I could only imagine how the corner of his lips would be crawling nearer to his eyes as I looked at him. His uniform was hastily done, like when I had first met him and his tie seemed like he had tried to do a simple boy scout’s knot on it. I bowed my head slightly to show respect. 

“Hey.” He muffled out from his air mask, his eye smile still almost shining through it.
“Hey.” I replied casually. I felt a grin slowly forming on my own lips, too. 

He turned around and faced the piano and walked towards it, slowly pulling the chair back. He didn’t need to adjust the seat since he was the only one who had been playing it anyway.
Going back to his usual position, I felt like time was passing awfully slow. 
I had gotten too used to this sight. And I, admittedly, had missed it.

Swaying his body front and back while playing elegantly. A happy tune, this time. 
He did seem like he was in a good mood when he walked in. 
The white holders from the air mask could be seen holding his hair back. It probably wouldn’t get as messed up at this back this time. I could only wonder what he was thinking when playing.

Some days he would play long, sad ballads. Other days he’d play classical. One time he had played covers of popular anime songs, and sometimes he’d even cover Super Junior or Michael Jackson songs. He seemed to like playing soft and bright songs, from what I’d heard. It was the most common in all of his playing, anyway. 

As usual, I’d just sit there on the table in the back, watching his back while he played. It felt like he hadn’t even been away for those  days before.
At least he was still playing for me.
Or I’d like to think he was playing for me.

He finished hitting the final key right before the clock struck 9.50 AM. 
I suddenly felt like it was too early for him to leave.
He fixed his bangs a little bit before standing up.

“T-“ I stopped myself. I couldn't address him like that.
“H-Hyung.” I croaked out.
Taemin looked a bit surprised. Or at least his eyebrows lifting slightly and his eyes widening a bit.
“Yeah?” He finally replied.
“Your tie is crooked.” I grinned
 

12.03 PM.

Today, for the first time, I had seen Taemin outside of the music room. It was in the cafeteria. He was sitting near a table, with five others. Four other guys, and a girl. He seemed to be enjoying speaking to a guy slightly taller than him with bleached hair. Wasn’t it against the school rules to bleach your hair?

He seemed like an interesting character.

The other four were seemingly tall too, except one was a little shorter than the other three and appeared to have a green tie, signaling that he was a senior. 

I couldn’t see their faces well since we were two tables in front of them. Taemin hadn’t noticed me either. 
He seemed very bright. 

Sehun poked my arm.
“Kai?”
“Yeah?” 
“What are you looking at?” The dark brunette asked. I shrugged slightly, simply telling him I had a stare. 
“Are you looking at Key hyung?” He interrogated, looking at me with a sly smile.
Key hyung?
I slowly turned to my side to look at him with his cheeky grin  and a finger ready to poke my arm again.
“Who’s that?”
“Eh? You weren’t looking at him?” It was almost as if Sehun was pouting.
“Not really, no. Who is it anyway?” I questioned.
“Key hyung is the guy with the bleached hair over there, who’s standing next to the table.” Sehun exclaimed while pointing slightly towards him.

It was the same table Taemin was sitting at.

“How do you know him?” I asked. 
“My mom and his mom are good friends, so I’ve known him since we were pretty young.”
“Oh.”

I glanced slightly back to Taemin’s table, and he had finally noticed me. Our eyes met.
It wasn't uncommon, but it felt weird at such a distance. 
I noticed the newly-discovered Key quickly turning his head in my direction but went back to talking to the girl sitting infront of Taemin with brown hair. 

Taemin pulled the air mask down slightly with his index finger, which even seemed to be able to pull down an air mask gracefully and a smile covered his lips. 
He waved. His right hand hastily going left to right. He had fixed his tie.
I chuckled lowly, and raised my right hand a bit to somewhat wave back.
Seemed like this kid could do anything gracefully.

“Oh.” Sehun mimicked smugly
 

Monday, 9:31 AM

“Doesn’t it ever bother you?” I questioned him, while he lay down his school bag next to the piano chair. 
“Does what?” He asked back and started searching his bag, likely looking for sheet music.
“The F sharp being off. And the low C.” 

He usually didn’t bring sheets. Maybe twice in every two weeks. Most of the time he played by heart, or even ear. 
At least from my two-month experience of listening to him play and watching him from behind.

“Ahh…” He replied.
“Not particularly,” He continued. 
“Really? I’d imagine you'd prefer to play a well-pitched piano.”

I’d address him Hyung, and he addressed me Jongin. Sometimes he’d like to call me Jonginnie, for the sole purpose of making me embarrassed. 
We could properly talk now.
I had never called him Taemin, though.
Always Hyung.

“I don’t really mind much. I like old pianos. Even if they get a bit off. And this one really is old. Feels like I’m playing something with more of a soul.” He spoke.
“Besides, my piano at home is very off-pitch, so this one is actually like heaven compared to mine.” He laughed.  
“Ah, really?” 
“Yeah, but, well, Jonghyun hyung has a grand piano at his place and sometimes lets me come over to play.”

We could probably be considered something like friends by now. Probably. Sometimes I would see him during school, outside of the first break. He had introduced me to his friends, Key (whose actual name turned out to be Kibum), Minho, Jinki, Jonghyun the short guy and a girl named Sulli. He also got introduced to my friends, but he was very shy about it.
Key and Minho happened to be juniors, like him, but Jinki, Jonghyun the short guy and Sulli were seniors. 
He liked talking about them.
I wondered if he talks about me too.

“I’ve wondered this for a while, Jongin, but do you play as well? You seem to know a lot about the piano.” 
I was kind of surprised. I hadn’t really expected him to ask me that, for some reason. Or to notice, overall.
“No,” I started. 

“My sister and mother play. We run a piano repair shop at my place, actually.”
“No way!”
He looked excited.
Excited to know more, I hoped. 
There was like a sparkle in his eye. Like ones you’d see in a girly manga or an anime. 

“Yeah.” 
“Someday I'll just have to go to your place, then!” He beamed.
He seemed so energetic. 
It must've felt nice to love something so much. So much that you’d feel excited just speaking of it. So excited that you can’t wait to share it with others.

“Sure.” I smiled
 

Thursday, 3:37 PM

It had gotten colder outside. It had been three months since I first met Taemin. And now it was the first snow of the newly arrived season. 

Taemin rubbed his arms to his sides and jumped a bit, pouting.
He didn’t like cold weather, or so I had learned. 
He had been playing the piano since he was four, so he had been playing for quite a while. 
He liked sweets a lot, but didn’t really like soda.
He wanted to teach playing the piano when he'd get older.
He had known Jinki since he was five. 

I’d learnt it all in three months. It felt like I had memorized every little detail of the shape of his eye, like he was a book with endless pages.
Which in a way, I guess he was. 

He was pretty charming. 
Even for a guy to say. His double lidded eyes that would peer a bit whenever he smiled. The way he liked to put his growing hair into a small ponytail, since he wanted to grow it. He would probably look  a little like a girl with it longer, though.
I chuckled a bit at the thought.
If he was a girl, I would probably fall for him. 
If I hadn’t already. 
“What’s so funny, Jongin-ah?” He questioned me, furrowing his eyebrows and rubbing the sides of his arms.
“It’s just the cold.”
“How does that even make sense?” He ran infront of me to stop us and looked deeply in my eyes while making a questionable expression, as if he was trying to ransack my mind through my eyes.
“Hyung, what are you doing?”
“Shh, I’m trying to find out what you’re thinking.” He leaned closer.
Closer.
Closer.

It felt like I wanted him to get even more closre.
And then to not leave.

“Ugh, Jongin! You’re like a closed book! I can’t sense what you’re thinking at all!” He pouted and turned his back against me.
“But I will find out, there’s nothing that a top detective like me cant do!” He exclaimed with a cheeky grin. 
“Yeah, yeah. Hyung, one day I’ll really have to wonder what to do about you.”
“Jonginnie, you should learn of your Hyung’s experiences, and just admit the truth!” He blabbered.
Pretty.

I wanted it to stay that way forever.
“Pfft, what experiences?” I chuckled and looked at him smugly.
“Whatever, I give up!” He put his hands up in defeat.
I laughed at him.
“How far is it to your place anyway? It’s freezing!”
“Not far, Hyung. Around five minutes.” 

He would go to my place for the first time today. I was kind of nervous. I had never felt nervous about a friend visiting before, like this. 
Taemin felt different, though.

"Oh my god."
"You can try them, if you want to. It's not like the owners can see."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."

He ran around examining them all closely with a big, goofy, grin on his lips.
"This place is heaven, Jongin!" He called out pulling backwards a piano chair on an old, white, grand piano and adjusted it to his height.
His eyes were shimmering and he pressed the A on the middle of the piano.
"This one has been repaired already." He said outloud.
"Some others haven't, though. Those others sound like the worst pianos I've ever heard, Hyung."
"Oh, I wanna try those out, too!"
"Hyung, I'm telling you, they're horrid-sounding."
"It's all about the soul, Jonginnie!" He sing-songed as he pressed the sustain pedal down and played a jazzy song with heaps of swung notes.
I closed my mouth.
I guess he had a point.

"This place is filled with old pianos, full of flaws, but full of history," he exclaimed and turned his head in my direction.
"And, you know, I like all kinds of pianos. I just...in general, love pianos."
Your love hadn't go unhidden, Hyung.
He always dazzled when he played. Like he was emerging happiness, whether it was a sad or a happy song.
 

Thursday, 9.41 AM

“I can’t play it!” Taemin was frustrated. His eyebrows were furrowed, his bangs all messed up from the pulling his hair from his face more than usual and his usually smiley lips had turned his mouth into a deep frown of annoyance. 
“C’mon, just try it one more time.” I insisted. This time, not sitting on the usual place on an un-used table, I stood beside him.

He took a deep breath and stared at his hands while glancing at the sheet music. Starting from a pianissimo, travelling up to forte.
He started slowing down on the part  he was troubled with, his brows furrowing even deeper. And he messed up.
Slamming the keys in frustration he let out an irritated whisper.
“I give up.”
“No, Hyung, don’t be like that. Maybe you should just take a break?” I suggested. 
He gaped at me with a look that screamed ‘are-you-serious’, which somehow, looked hilarious on his face.
“What? I mean if you dwell on it too long, it’s just going to annoy you more the next time you try to play it!” I defended myself but he kept the look stuck right on.
“Jongin, you do realize this is my break?” 

He had a point. 
I hurriedly checked my watch;
9.49 AM.
We’d both have to leave for class soon.
Well that is,
if we wanted to show up.

“Hyung…What if we skip?” I asked.
“Jongin, you can’t be serious.” 
“Maybe I kind of am very much serious?” I said hopefully trying my best to look cute.
“Oh my god, Jongin. If you think that’s supposed to be cute, it’s not working!” He laughed. 
“Aw, come on Hyung! Just this once, okay?” I pleaded, losing the cute act.
I knew he’d give in if I asked like this.
“J…Just this once, okay? It’s only math, it’s okay skipping once, I guess. But only for one period, you hear me?” 
“Yes, Hyung!” I saluted him.

We ended up not returning back to school for the whole day
 

“Jongin, was it?” I stared down at the slightly-shorter guy. 
The bleached-hair-guy. Even if he was slightly shorter, practically my own height, he felt more intimidating than any other man or woman I had come across.

He stood proud and confident before me, while staring into my eyes.
“Y-Yeah.” I nodded and he let out a sigh.

“Cellphone.” He commanded looking sharply at me.
“Your cellphone.” He added, seeing the puzzled look in my eyes.
“Yeah, uh, sure,” I stammered, fishing into my pockets after my Samsung phone and awkwardly handed over my phone to Key. 

He opened up the lock-screen and slid his finger right away into adding another contact into the list.
“Look,” He said without looking up from the phone, his fingers moving like lightning.
“You and Taemin are friends. I figured it’d be good to have your number, in case something comes up, alright?” His fingers finally came to a stop, and he finally looked up again.
“Ah, I see.” 

Whenever Taemin’s group of friends would come to talk to me, I couldn’t help but feel slightly awkward with the exception of Jonghyun the-short-guy. It felt like we just couldn’t get along well anyway, but having Key’s number probably wouldn’t hurt. 
He had already his heel and left when I was about to thank him.

‘Handsome Hyung Key.’
 

Monday, 9:31 AM

"Boo." I whispered out ironically into Taemin's ear not expecting that it would actually startle the guy.
Well, as it turned out, Taemin happened to be a very startle-y person.
"Christ, Jongin! I didn't even hear you come in!" Taemin cried out, furrowing his brows and leaning his forehead on the sheet stand of the piano.
"Hyung. I've never heard you curse before." 
"Uh, I guess I don't usually..." He began.
"Mostly when I get startled, I guess? Key curses alot, though." 
"I've noticed." 
Silence.

Taemin's hand was lying on his thigh with his fingers wrapped around a duster.
"You're probably the only one who's ever going to take good care of that piano." I noted.
"Well, yeah, someone has to take care of it." He replied.
"You're the only one playing it too, it's not like music is actually taught in this school."
"So someone has to take care of it, am I right?" He responded, smiling slightly.
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
And then we went back to our usual routine of him playing and me listening.
I wondered for how much longer it was okay for us to stay like this.

Tuesday, 9:34 AM

"No, no, no, no!" He dug both hands into his small ponytail, letting the scrunchie fall out and made a frustrated noise. He was still stuck on the same song.
"I can't do it!"
"Relax, Hyung. Why do you have to get it so bad?"
"The concert, Jongin, it's in three weeks!" 

In those past months, I had also learned that Taemin wasn't good under stress.

"Taemin, that actually means you got whole three weeks to practice." I tried to reason with him.
"That actually also means I only have three more weeks, not even whole, it's actually two weeks and five days!" He whined, leaning on my shoulder

This time I was sitting next to him, instead of the usual place behind him.
"I'm gonna be here all lunch too..."
"Want me to come along too?" I asked.
"Might be nice thank you very much, Jonginnie. Such a great kid," He slurred, slumping himself onto me like he'd lost all hope on not  only life, but also sitting up straight.
"Come on, Hyung. Just try once more before break ends."
"You know, Jongin, ever since I was a kid, I've always hated sheet music, it can be so annoying to work with and teachers usually don't like you changing the sheets for a more comfortable and a nicer way to play it yourse-" he tried to continue but in the end it only muffled out, since as my palm had gotten in the way of his mouth from speaking.

"Hyung, just play it once more."
He sighed and curled his fingers in and out twice before laying them on the keys. 

As expected, he had pauses, and his usual confident way of pressing the keys was more shaky and hesitatative and his brows did their usual habit of furrowing whenever he pressed they keyes and they made a larger crease whenever he didn't understand what he was trying to play.
Unusually messy crescendos, and his sound nuances weren't the usual, but I guessed he was the type of person that lets stress get to him that easily.
Quicker than the song should have been, he ended it and let out a deep breath.
"This ."
"Does my prescence make it worse?"
"Not really....You're actually pretty calming, Jongin." Taemin stated. 
Well if that didn't just strike the warmest chord in my heart.
"Plus if you weren't here, I probably would keep moping for half an hour before trying again." He put his hand on my shoulder.
Ah.

"No, but Kai, what's going on with you and Taemin Hyung?" Sehun poked at me.
"Nothing more than what it looks like?" 
"...Well, so it'll be a spring marriage?" He said.
"Didn't know you liked guys."
I hit him lightly on the head.

The cons would always overweigh the flaws of sitting in the last row of a class of 28 people.
Especially in the end seat near the window.

Sehun and I had been friends since Junior High, and since the fifth day of Junior High, we'd stuck together like a flock of birds.
Except there were only two of us, but that was just a minor detail.
I could easily admit that I had been spending more time with a certain brown haired Hyung lately, though.

"Kim Jongin, I'm not being replaced am I?" Textbook straps had been applied on his cheeks to look like tears and his hands were positioned in a begging position.
"Our friendship has only been so short, Jongin! I can't believe you're replacing me so fast, and for an upperclassman like him!" He exaggerrated and lifted his hands up to his eyes.
"Shut up, Sehun."
He grinned cheekily and put the torn textbook straps away from his cheeks.
"You two in the back! I'll seperate you if you keep this up!"
We both nodded and looked down to stare at our books. 
That is until I noticed a small piece of torn paper being pushed on to my table.
"No, but seriously?"
And beneath it was a small, strangely drawn picture of me and Taemin.
Holding hands.

Friday, 9:31 AM
Two weeks before the concert. 

"Hyung, why did you dye your hair?" I asked Taemin one day, while we were sitting in the music room.
"Well, it wasn't really my choice," He laughed.
"Key Hyung actually hated my old hairstyle and sent me to a salon without even hearing my thoughts about it, and told the poor worker at the salon exactly how he wanted her to style my hair, without even breaking the school rules."
Though his bleached blonde hair seemed to break the school rules anyway, appearantly dyeing it brown was all right.

"I can kind of picture it." I chuckled.
"Jongin, your talking voice is nice."
"Hyung, is the stress going over your head?"
"Agh, Jonginnie, don't remind me of the stress." He groaned while pulling his hair back into his little ponytail.
"I really meant what I said though. Your voice is soothing." He continued.
"I can't really picture that, Hyung."
"It is though. I kind of envy you for having such a deep voice." He laughed and turned around in his seat, looking over the sheets one more time.
"Well, thank you, I guess?" I replied awkwardly.
"Yes, thank me. It is a compliment after all." He looked into my eyes and grinned before pressing the first keys of the now almost completed, yet dreaded song.
God damn it.

The concert that Taemin would be playing at was actually the closing 'ceremony' of the school over Christmas, where the principal would hold his speech, and then a few kids would perform something and this was a tradition maintained every year.

Appearantly, what terrified Taemin was that even as the great a pianist he is, playing in front of so many people he knew was nerve-wrecking.
It had to be perfect, but since he didn't do well under stress he was terrified of making a big mistake or failing chord. 

I layed down in my bed and stared at the ceiling holding my phone in my right arm while the other was absentmindedly playing with a pen on the nightstand.
My thoughts would still track to Taemin's words earlier and his charming grin.
What lucky genes did God stuff into his body to make his face like that.
Lately, Taemin would compliment me a lot.

"Ah, Jonginnie, your hair is nice today."
"Jongin, you're so tall."
"My dongsaeng's face is so handsome, I bet all the girls are after you, aren't they?"

He'd usually say those things in the music room, since we didn't talk much outside of it, anyway.
The occasional lunch break we might meet up coincidentally and start talking a bit, until Key or any other of his friends would arrive and I'd wave goodbye.

Which is where a point hit me.
I didn't have Taemin's cellphone number.

With Taemin working so hard to make his song perfect, I somehow couldn't have it in me to actually ask him for his number.
It felt sort of awkward.
It felt like every moment he stopped to check the sheets better with an annoyed brow would be the perfect chance for me to casually ask him;
'Hey, Hyung I realized I don't actually have your number! How funny!'

But even the thought of asking him felt awkward since we'd already known each other for half a year, soon. 
And we were currently on a pretty good level of friendship.

So I would go the hard way.
I would ask Key for his number.
Which was even more awkward, since Key and I weren't even friends. He was my friend's friend and I, for some reason, had his number but not Taemin's.

Fishing out my phone, I repeatedly tried to form a new text to send to Key.
"I kind of need Taemin's phone number?" I locked my phone with a sigh when it buzzed almost two seconds after I locked it.
"why it's first break isn't he with you right now" ...Yeah.
"wait why dont u have his number to begin w"
This wouldn't be easy.

"My phone started acting up on me and deleted only some of my contacts including Taemin's."
"...And he forgot his number." I added and locked it again with a click hoping Key'd fall for it.

"hahaha that's so awkward u didnt have his number to begin w did u"
...Right through me.

A sneeze.
"You okay, Hyung?"
"Yeah," He laughed.
"Maybe someone's talking about me," He joked.

Saturday, 8:26PM
A week before Taemin's concert.

"Hyung, this is Jongin." A heavy breath that felt like I just left out all air left in my lungs as I pressed send. I didn't lock my screen and stared, waiting for a reply.
After around a week of begging Key to just give me his number, it had finally worked.
"Just make sure you won't 'lose' it again," He teased me, sarcasm evident in his voice.

Taemin hadn't replied yet.
Five minutes had passed when I realized he might not be like Key and reply on the second.
Then half an hour passed.
Then three hours. 

It wasn't until the next morning when I heard my phone buzz.
"wow jongin i idint' realize i didn't have your number before
"how ddi yuou get my number though??" 

"I think average girls are nice. I don't know, I don't think much about it." Sehun wondered out loud towards Chanyeol.
"Come to think of it, Kai, What kind of girls do you like?" I pursed my lips and thought about it for a second.
"I guess I like people who can play the piano."
And it was at that point I had realized I'd probably grown obsessed.

Even though Taemin liked the history of piano souls, he dreaded the subject of history, in general.
His favorite subject was math.
He was a major perfectionist.
He hated playing classical but his teacher said he was at a level where he couldn't ignore it.
He respected rules, except when it came to classical piano.
He liked playing jazz.
His dream was to have a grand piano some day.
He never skips. (Until he had met me.)
He had met Key in junior high, and through him he met Minho. Jonghyun, he met through collaborating with the school choir, but Key had known him before.
He was forgetful.
The only pet he'd had was a goldfish when he was 7 years old.
His idol was Michael Jackson, but he also liked Super Junior and Big Bang a lot.
And... he really liked my 'talking voice.'

It was probably there, that I was long fallen.

Monday, 9:30 AM

This time when I walked inside the music room, Taemin wasn't playing.
He sat face forward to the rest of the table with a seemingly pout on his face.
"Hyung." 
"Jongin, you know, I've been thinking about stuff." He said to me.
A pang in the chest.
Please don't ever stop pla-
"You know, you really shouldn't make friends with upper-classmen."
"What." I said blankly.
"You know, graduation for the seniors is coming up."
"Yeah?"
"Onew and Jonghyun are leaving us behind and it's stupid."

I looked him in the eyes and sat down on a chair I had long set down infront of the tables, with my chest on the back of the chair.
"Stupid?"
"Well, yeah, it ."
"Taemin, you do realize you're an upper-classman friend though, right?"
"Yeah," He sighed leaning his head back.
"But don't worry, Jonginnie, I won't ever let you go." He chuckled.
"Nice to know, Hyung. I won't let you go either, even when you graduate and leave me behind next year." I joked.
But I was fully serious.

"And now, we will have junior Lee Taemin perform on the piano." 

Taemin had talked the principal into agreeing that keeping me down here would give him less of a stage-fright, but considering how he had been playing for years, it probably wouldn't change much with me being here or not.
Except the fact that Taemin was terrified that he knew everyone's names, one little mistake and they'd all notice it.
(Even though Taemin was actually brilliant at covering up his mistakes.)
"God, Jongin. Say something pretty, okay?" Taemin pleaded as he headed to walk up the three-staired-stairs.
"Good luck, Hyung?" I chuckled awkwardly. 
"Why, thank you, my caring dongsaeng!" He joked, ruffling my hair.
"Hyung-" 
Taemin reached the top stair and almost walked on the stage when I called out to him.
"Seriously, Hyung. Good luck." I said, looking him into his eyes.
He smiled.
"Thank you, Jongin."

He walked forward to the stage, bowing as the students clapped, smiling slightly at Jonghyun and Onew, who sat with all the seniors in the front row.
He pulled out the chair of the grand piano and lifted up the lid. 

He took in a quick breath and lifted up his hands.
Then he exhaled.
And god, did the way he slammed down his fingers in the first chord sound amazing.
Everything he played sounded amazing.
Everything he did was just amazing, in general.
He played a hard and heavy jazz song and it was incredible.
Why did he even worry about failing?

Then the song suddenly blended itself into Michael Jackson's Thriller.
Well, it was Taemin.
But I could see the crowd's faces bring up smiles.
They were having fun listening to Taemin's playing, too.
His month long practice was paying off.
But I couldn't help feeling like I really just wanted him for myself.
Like I could just pick up his thin body away from the chair and walk away.
But Taemin was for everyone to share.
Even if the way he moves back and forth with the una-cordo and his facial expressions makes me want to do nothing less.

Taemin inhaled yet again while his hands stopped a bit in the air for a little breath.
And struck the final chord.
He wiped the slight sweat that had appeared on his forehead with his sleeve as he stood up and pushed the chair back. Then he faced the crowd and bowed.
They all applaused for him.

I watched him as he jogged back but stopped infront of me at the second stair with the goofiest grin on his face.
"Good job," I said. "Especially the break near the end."
"Jongin." He breathed.
"Your tie is crooked." He smiled brighter than ever before and leaned in closer to my lips. My eyes widened and my body automatically leaned upwards to him too.
The truth is, my tie wasn't crooked at all.
God, it felt so good to love something so much.

ohmygod im so sorry its so bad and you read it all the way to down here im sorry i wasted your life away

you dont need to comment or anything unless you want to and i know the story is filled with holes and badly worded stuff and things
first time writing and posting a fanfic and yeah
i still have some other stuff in mind to write for them but it'd just be a chain to this series of bad
thank you for reading it till the end c: