Slender fingers flowed through the alluring harmony, the building crescendos, the lilting melody. Fingers played as if in desperate need for several minutes going in an endless spiral until crashing down in frustration, making a harsh sounding clash. How long had these hands labored over this?

"Too long." a voice that could only be likened to a piano's melancholy melody full of longing, rang through out the bare room of simple white walls that contained nothing of it's owner's presence. No color, no pictures, nothing to distinguish itself from any other wall in the world. Nothing was there to symbolize ownership. This wall could have belonged to anyone. That anyone's reflection only showed in the black shine of the baby grand piano. Dark red hair covered half of a face the color of milk laced with a touch of honey. Sharp eyes that used to always have a smile and a shimmer of life were now dull and devoid of the life they once held. What became of her? She used to be b of hope, possibilities...

That was before her life -seemingly by grand design- spiraled into the dark abyss it was now in. The sun signaled that her time in what had become her sanctuary and her personal hell was now over. She rose from the source of her happiness and suffering and made her way out the door and into the bright day. The sun warmed her body which was riddled with goose bumps from the biting cold of the building. She made her way through the bustling streets ignoring passer by, whistling, and cat calls. The streets lined with bits and pieces of broken glass and debris went unnoticed. It was a much a part of her life as oxygen was a part of breathing. The houses on either side of her were slowly, gradually changing from halfway decent single family homes to homes that symbolized that the owners had lost all hope in restoring them to their former glory. One such house on the corner of the street several blocks from the music studio was her home. Like the others in her block, the home was one of pride, security, and beauty. However, as the years passed in a seamless tapestry with no sign of ever running out of fabric, this home had fell subject to the test of time and lost hope.

She stepped inside quietly, but even the slightest molecule of her returned presence earned a shrill "Bin!" from her mother. Sighing, she walked into the kitchen with it's stale yellow walls to her mother.

Like Yoobin, her mother Jina used to be vibrant and full of life. That was before Yoobin's father died and Jina turned to self destruction with horrible boyfriend after horrible boyfriend and alcohol to numb the pain. She was still rather pretty at 42. Yoobin swore that whenever she saw her mother, she was looking into a mirror to the future. 5'2"; black shoulder length hair; thick lips; and legs that could go on for days. The only visible difference between the two women besides Yoobin's extra inch in height was that Jina's eyes were slightly red and glazed over from drunkenness and faint lines showed from years of cigarette smoking.

"Bin... Taemin's here. He's waiting in your room..." she whispered, her voice slurring slightly. She always whispered when she tried to hide her state of inebriation.

Yoobin simply nodded and ran to the back of the house passing the living room of burnt orange, red, brown, and beige to her other sanctuary that only her best friend in the world may enter without invite.

Taemin lay on her unmade bed of painted gold metal bedpost, purple comforter of puckered lips, yellow checkered pillow framed by white lace, yellow floral sheets and random mishmash of books, clothing, wires, laptop, and hand held gaming system as if he owned it. She had a matching set for both comforter, sheets, and pillow case, but didn't bother to make them all in sync. To others, the chaotic dichotomy of these articles would raise eyebrows, but to him, the organized chaos was what made Yoobin Yoobin. He smiled his charming smile holding his arms wide open and as usual, Yoobin gave a smile back, shut the door and jumped onto the bed landing in his arms making the springs in the mattress bounce them. Taemin was her light in the dark tunnel whenever she felt hopeless.

"Hey oppa. Did you miss me?" she asked before kissing him on the lips. This had been their greeting for years, never mind that Taemin was her hoobae by 3 years.

"Yes noona."

This was their routine. A ritual that had been done so long that the absence of any of these actions left a feeling of emptiness inside. They were more or less platonic with each other, so nothing sensual came out of the actions. At least neither one of them thought they felt anything sensual of the other.

"You closed the shop for me right? Cash register locked and all?"

"Yup. Only stealing that'll get done in there is by an employee who's accidentally locked in, as in me, you, Youngji, Sooyun, or dust bunnies."

"Thanks oppa." She pinched his cheeks. Supporting her head on her propped arms she looked down at him. "So how was school?"

"Take a wild guess."

"Crappy music program huh?"

"That teacher wouldn't know a C scale from a C section!"

"... Wow."

"Yeah. Wow."

"I wish you could go to school with me..." she sighed.

Taemin looked up at her through his dark copper locks and knew there was something she was hiding. Sometimes the most innocent comment from her resonated in large volumes about her inner psyche. This was more about going to her school -an all girls school- just to have a better music program.

She knew the look he gave her. It was that "What's wrong?" look that she knew wouldn't leave until she told him. A hint of a lopsided smile, eyes half shut, and a raised eyebrow would remain his expression until she got down to the point.

"What's up Bin?"

She shrugged.

Taemin gave the 'look' even harder.

"What? I'm fine! I'm just saying that it'd be cool if you could actually go to my school." she said rising up and leaning back. "Why don't you?"

Yoobin took a handful of his hair that was curly and tousled messily, yet still oddly remained stylish.

Taemin gave her a perplexed look.

"Yeah... just use a little gloss, a skirt..." Yoobin suddenly yanked him by his shirt collar and into her walk in closet. She frantically thumbed through every piece of clothing she owned, many of which created by her and many in boxes to be sold at her shop Wonderful.

Taemin looked at her with suspicion. She wasn't really...?

Yoobin held up a frilly blue and black skirt with sequins and a white graphic tee with a black butterfly surrounded by softly colored Tye-dye with a grin.

Oh yes...

She really was.