Mozart Rocks Like This [Chapter 10]
Title: Mozart Rocks Like This
Chapter: 10
Pairings: JaeMin, onesided!YunJae, past Changmin/OFC
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Genre: Drama/Angst/Fluff
Summary: A rookie rocker who runs away from classics and a classical music prodigy who runs away from rock. They bump in the middle.
A/N: Sorry again for the long delay (5 months, oh my, I’m the biggest failure in LJ history). Does anyone still remember this story? >_<
Anyway, I hope you could enjoy! This particular chapter is for nanamixd (or yakuso5u) :)
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Mozart Rocks Like This
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Please, forgive me? Those eyes asked.
I do, hyung. I do.
OOo---Chapter 10---oOO
“The thing is, Kibum-hyung wouldn’t stop pushing it, so perhaps if you have time you can come over to our studio and-“
“I’ll be there!” Jaejoong almost shouted. He hugged the phone close to his ears, as if holding it tighter could somehow transfer him to the other side of the line. On his face was perhaps the biggest grin he ever sported in the span of his life.
He could hear the notch in the other’s voice, imagine the quirk of a well-shaped brow, a shadow of smile on soft chapped lips. “Why do you have to sound that excited?”
“Well,” Jaejoong cleared his throat, tone filled with embarrassment but still radiant. “I thought we are in good terms now?”
The answering voice came in a bout of laughter. Smooth, silky laughter that held no malice, only amusement. “Yeah. Yeah, we are, hyung.”
Silence ensued for some milliseconds. Jaejoong listened to the crackles, the sound of the other’s breathing. He released a breath of his own, never realizing he’d been holding it in the first place. “Hey.”
“Hm?”
The classics prodigy looked up at the ceiling of his prided music room, counting the specs on the span of lavish beige. His eyes then darted to a pair of objects resting on a table near his piano. “Thank you.”
Another pause, and then, “What for?”
“For…” the older man faltered, trying to find the right words but as usual, he failed. This time, however, he was determined not to let damaging words out of his mouth. “For forgiving.”
There was an upturn in the younger man’s reply, as if a smile seeped into his soft voice. “Let’s just start anew, shall we? Let’s face ahead.”
It was an offering. It might look like another form of running away, except it wasn’t. Before, they would leave it in tentative steps, still questioning, but not brave enough to voice it out loud. This time, they left it in certain steps and stopped doubting. Only believing, only trusting. Striding frontward. “Yeah,” Jaejoong whispered to the mouthpiece, unconsciously gripping the phone tighter. “Yeah, we should.”
A starting sentence of a brand new story. “So, see you in two hours?”
“As you wish, snob.”
A snort that resounded from the other line washed Jaejoong’s mind with inexplicable glee that he almost laughed. “Don’t forget to dress up and wear your tiara, Princess.”
“Brat. And here I thought I want to be nice and bring you guys some food.”
“Food! Oh, you should.”
Jaejoong raised his brow, grinning at the elation in that tenor. “Depend on how well you behave.”
A huff. “You’re being mean. Again.”
“I’m not~” the older man singsong-ed, feeling more than slightly silly, engaging himself in playful exchange like this with a person who, merely days ago, seemed so far away. His mouth seemed to stretch in permanent quirk.
The other line didn’t answer and while usually he would be fretful over did I cross the line again, now he knew how to handle this. “Fine, Mister, what could I grant your royal stomach?”
“Ddukbogi!” the tenor replied in childlike excitement. “And hamburgers, and musubi, and fried shrimps, and bungeoppang, and kimbap-“
“Whoa, calm down!” Jaejoong cut the eager requests before they got out of hand. “You have endless intestine or what?”
“… and japgwapyon,” the younger man finished, ignoring the older man’s exasperation.
Jaejoong shook his head. “If you remember, Mr. Spoiled, I just got back from the US. I don’t know half of those stuffs you mentioned.”
He could sense the pout from the other line. “Then just get some bags of potato chip and come over already.”
“Aye, aye,” Jaejoong smiled to the mouthpiece. “No tantrum-throwing, okay?”
A sigh. “I’m not the one whining like a princess all the time,” the younger man retorted. “But I’m sure you know hamburgers! And fried shrimps!”
“Potato chip it is,” Jaejoong said loudly, pretending not to hear that last line. He hung up on the other man’s protesting cries.
Silly boy, of course I know all the food you mentioned. Where do you think I lived before flying to the US? Venus?
A giggle that soon turned into high-pitched laughter emerged from deep down, startling a poor maid who happened to open the music room door.
“Y-young master?”
Jaejoong paused in his half-skipping, half-dancing euphoria that even he didn’t realize he was doing. He grinned at the young female, successfully making her blush. None of the house occupants had seen the youngest son this happy. Jaejoong had never felt this kind of contentment either. It was silly, for he wasn’t even sure why he suddenly got this elated.
“Yes?”
“There is a package for you,” the maid said, handing him another box wrapped in beautiful papercraft. He accepted it with a nod, lips still stretching from ear to ear.
“Wait!” he said just as she stepped out of the room.
“Yes, sir?”
“Do we have shrimps?”
The maid blinked. “I’m not sure, but I can go check, Sir.”
“Oh, okay. Go check,” he ordered. Just as she was about to turn about, he called out again. “Also hamburgers, musubi, bungeoppang, and kimbap.”
This time she really gaped at him, but one look from his dark eyes sent the poor lady scurrying away. Jaejoong blinked, not really meaning any harm, but he was glad she hurried. He only had one hour and a half to cook all those food.
“And japgwapyon!” he shouted to the corridor, receiving a faint ‘Yes, sir!’ as a reply.
The young master closed his door, juggling the package he just received. He turned the rectangular package upside down, trying to find any hint about the sender, but there were none. Bet it was delivered directly into the house mailbox.
“Now there are three,” he muttered, gingerly placing the last box beside its two companions. He had received a total of three boxes over the past week. All of them are of medium size, rectangular, and Jaejoong didn’t have any inclination as to what the content might be. It began two days after Jung’s law firm anniversary. That night when everything shifted back into place. The night when all storms died down, melting into sunrise in its wake.
Now honestly curious, he finally took hold on the box that arrived first. He hadn’t opened any of them, not accustomed to secret presents, not knowing what to make of them. Could it be from one of Super East’s fans? He heard fans in Korea could be quite expressive towards their idols.
He shuddered at the idea. If those fans went to the point of stalking him home and sending God-knows stuffs to him, he might as well start worrying for his life.
Deciding that he was wasting time guessing the unpredictable, the dark-eyed man settled on just opening it. Silently praying it wasn’t time bomb or creepy lingerie, he carefully peeled off the wrapper.
A plain brown carton box tumbled into his hand. It was heavy that he had to balance it on two palms. He tried to shake it, but there came no distinct sound. When he finally pried open the lid and pulled the content out, the sight of an intricately carved box greeted him.
Jaejoong was baffled. Carillons à musique.
A music box?
There was no card or note inside the carton box either. The sender remained nameless. The classics prodigy examined his new music box. It was one of those old works, imported straight from Vienna and incessantly expensive, nothing a fan of new rock groups would spend her money on. Besides, this was clearly a classic music box.
Carefully looking at the bottom side, Jaejoong paled slightly at the brand. Even for a socialite like him, the music box was way too pricey to be an anonymous gift. The only person in Korea he knew that shared his passion in classics, who could drop off these packages right to his address, aside from his own family, is…
Jaejoong shook his head, silky black locks swaying with the movement. Why was he getting his own hope high like this?
He stared at the brand carving again, this time noticing Schubert’s name engraved onto the surface in curvy letters. Putting the box aside, his attention turned to the second box. The size was almost the same, so he figured it might more or less contain similar item. Albeit affording more than one original classic music box seemed like a suicide to one’s credit card.
He peeled off the wrapper with less hesitancy, watching as indeed a similar engraved box tumbled outside the indistinct brown carton. This time, Chopin’s name welcomed him in flowing graph.
Chopin. His heart made a funny flip. Fingers itched to flip open the lid, to let the melody engulf this room, to relive a memory so much cherished by two individuals. He knew, without needing to actually listen, what song was in store for him.
Jaejoong paused mid-breath, before letting it out in short huffs. No no no, he was hoping too much again. There was no guarantee that all of these really came from-
Do I really hope it came from him? Is it possible?
Images of brown doe eyes filled his mind. His mind rang with sculpted tenor that used to sound wary and bitter, but now accepting and forgiving and welcoming. Almost like possessed, the classics prodigy dumped the box onto the table, nearly damaging it if not for last-second self control. He quickly grabbed the last box, tearing off the wrapper none too gently, urgently.
If it was true, if the younger man really felt for him like that, if this was not a big joke, the last variable of this chain reaction would be-
The older man halted as he stared at the words, scribbled neatly in European engravings, right under the last box.
Mozart.
He double (and triple and quadruple) checked the words. It was really there, ‘W. A. Mozart’. He wasn’t imagining it. With slightly tremulous hand, he opened the lid.
Mozart’s Sonata No. 8 flowed from the inside. A minor. Allegro maestoso. With it came unbidden memory, of a stage with too-bright lights, of thinning lips that quivered as they pulled apart, of heartrending tenor that sliced through the night. Of heartbreak, of broken love, of running away with fear of never being found.
Of a kiss that’s easily lost into the dark of night breeze. Of unspoken desire that socked imprints inside too-fragile hearts.
Of two men that, despite all wrongness, maybe wanted to begin.
---flashback---
It happened so fast and nothing close to planned. When they realized it, Jaejoong had a hand on the younger man’s shoulder and his rosy lips on a pair of chapped ones.
Changmin’s eyes were wide open, too shocked to comprehend. The kiss was nothing intense, a touch of lips against lips, a hand on one shoulder. Still it threw both of them surprised. They were stuck in stillness for several thundering heartbeats before breaking apart slowly, faces flustered, eyes wide and searching.
“I…” Jaejoong started, but unable to give explanation. He had no idea, no plan, no answer to this. Whether it would make or break, he didn’t have a clue.
-----------------
Jaejoong quietly closed the cover, cutting the first movement mid-drive.
Snob, the prodigy thought, but not without wonderment and more than a tinge of endearment. After what I did for him in public, he opted on being sneaky and discreet like this? Gee.
---oOo---
Jaejoong opened the studio door to a loud ‘pop’ and flurry breeze of confetti. Blinking at the unexpected greeting, he let himself be patted on the back by two hyper guys.
“Jaejoong-hyung! It’s been reeeeeeeally long!”
“Yo man, you’re finally here!”
The addressed man couldn’t help but grin widely at the excited welcome. Trust these guys to be so elated just seeing his presence. He met Kibum’s eyes, perhaps the shiest out of them all, but nothing less than friendly.
“Hyung,” the guitarist’s smile was full of gratitude. “I can never thank you enough.”
“Hey,” Jaejoong’s grin never faded. “No big matter. I had fun. I’m sure now that you’ve recovered, you can bring this band to its peak.”
”Omooo, what is that?” Junsu pointed eagerly at four giant plastic bags Jaejoong carried with him, cheerful voice bouncing from one white wall to another.
“Oh,” the oldest man smiled brightly. “It’s our lunch. I cooked them!”
The members cheered in awe, already catching wonderful smell from within the bags, not expecting their comrade to have fantastic cooking skill. Jaejoong smiled, proud for enlightening the celebration, being a source of happiness for them.
“Let us carry them!” Eunhyuk offered. Each of the three took hold of the bags, setting them down on a folded table Kibum had brought to the studio. “I’m hungry already. Can’t Changminnie come now so we can start the party?”
Jaejoong tilted his head to scan the small 4x4 space. Sure enough, their youngest was not there. Yet.
“I’ll contact him,” Kibum responded immediately, stomach growling. So it was true, food could move men into motion.
“Wait, he left his cell phone here yesterday,” Eunhyuk pointed on the leather couch. A familiar slim phone laid there. “He said he would retrieve it today.”
Jaejoong swapped out his BlackBerry, checking the list of his received calls. Indeed, the call earlier came from a house phone.
“I’ll call his home then, just checking if he already drove here,” Kibum browsed through his contact list before pressing the call button.
The other three moved to sit on the couch, Jaejoong carefully setting his bag down behind it. It was small, too small for more than two grown-ups to cram on, but somehow it felt comfortable. He listened to Eunhyuk and Junsu joking with each other, watched Kibum pacing as he waited for the call to go through. A set of drum stood peacefully on one corner, a bass and an electric guitar leaning side by side on one wall. Backpacks were stored behind the couch, content strewn in boyish mess. On the table, loads of food and drink (soda, no alcohol. They were such good guys) were set for the feast.
This small white-walled studio smelled like home. Welcoming acceptance seeped into his skin, warming his blood down to every single finger, warming him more than his grandeur mansion ever did.
Jaejoong frowned. The prospect of not being a part of the band, not finding the reason to come here, unsettled him. Back in California he always lived alone, occasionally seeking companions in night life, but never feeling any attachment to a single place. His apartment there was nicely equipped but it never felt like home either. The buddies he had were also cool, kind in their indifferent way of accepting foreigners, but they were never his home.
“Hey,” he spoke. Beside him, Junsu and Eunhyuk paused in their mid-wrestling fight for the remaining space on the couch. “I can always come visit this place, right?”
The two jokers looked at him as if he grew moustache. “Huh?”
“I’m not your guitarist anymore. Would you welcome me if I visit on random days, when perhaps you’re practicing and do not want to be disturbed, when four is enough and you don’t need another addition…?”
The question struck both members dumbfounded enough that they actually retracted to proper position. Another second ticked by, and than-
PLAK!!
The sound startled Jaejoong more than the actual sting on the back of his head. Behind the couch, one of Kibum’s arms was raised, the other hand pressing a phone to his ears, face smug.
“Now that’s a stupid question.”
It was the only thing he said before Kibum escorted himself to quieter side of the room, spluttering excuses to the other line (they apparently hadn’t hung up). Jaejoong stared wide-eyed at the younger guitarist, palming the area where Kibum had so conveniently smacked.
“In case you have some stupid insecurity issue…” Eunhyuk exchanged a glance with Junsu. The matching smirks on both faces were his only warning before he was unceremoniously dumped from the couch, landing butt-flat on the floor.
“’heck?!”
“Everyone in this household has to fight to claim this precious couch. Tooth and nail,” Junsu explained, twin rows of teeth showing as he grinned widely. “Since you are a member of this household and no longer a mere guest, we can no longer be too altruistic to give up a space for you. Not without a fight.”
Jaejoong gaped at the logic. Well, that certainly sounded radical. However, he understood the rule of the game, and soon he was yanking the hem of Eunhyuk’s shirt, trying to throw him out. Junsu cheered on him with fervent laughter, only to be shut by a pillow their bassist pressed to his face. The drummer retaliated by pulling on the strands of Eunhyuk’s grayish hair, sending the bassist to the floor, on top of Jaejoong. Junsu’s victorious laugh rang loudly, before it turned into pitchy squeak as Jaejoong and Eunhyuk teamed up on shoveling him away.
“Nah, guys, behave. Junsu, you might be crushing Changminnie’s cell phone under that butt of yours,” Kibum entered the scene with a sly grin. Junsu paled slightly before, in absolute horror, pulling out a slim cell phone from under his bottom.
“He’s so gonna murder me!” the drummer squeaked, checking the small gadget for any damage. “Is he close? Is he about to arrive any second?”
Jaejoong flicked his eyes towards Kibum, who only shrugged. “Dunno. His sister said he left home about two hours ago. Maybe he’s picking something up somewhere before heading here.”
Two hours ago… that’s about the time he called. A weird feeling made its way into his chest, but the dark-eyed man dismissed it. Their youngest was a grown-up who needed no supervision. Perhaps Hyunyi-noona was right; he had mother instinct that made him always worried. Didn’t matter he only worried about certain people he deemed precious.
What? What did I just think?
Unknowingly flustering at the idea, he barely realized that he was spacing out before another poke landed on his head. Unfocused, he could only train his gaze up to meet Kibum’s. The guitarist was pulling an amused face that looked entirely too unsettling. “Really, you remind me of him. Very much.”
Dark eyes blinked slowly. “Him?”
“Changminnie,” Junsu chirped in, regaining cheerfulness once he made sure the maknae’s phone stayed safe and intact. “He’s been like that too this last week. Zoning out, smiling to himself, flustering and then trying to act normal.”
“Creepy. That’s so uncharacteristic of him,” Eunhyuk added, naughty beam on his lips. “Almost looks like he is…”
“… having a crush?” Kibum finished it for him, and the three of them let out hearty laugh. Apparently, they found their stubborn maknae’s antics amusing. Jaejoong could only wonder, mind wandering once again, unaware of meaningful glances the three members sent to his direction.
They ended up spending the next hour gossiping about their youngest, taking advantage of the latter’s absence. Jaejoong managed to gather quite a number of interesting facts about the younger man. For once, Changmin was sorely afraid of cockroaches.
“’I’m not scared, I hate those creatures! We are enemy!’” Kibum reenacted with exaggerated high pitch, earning laughter that sounded like sunshine in their enclosed space.
“That wicked mouth of his often causes quite troubles,” Eunhyuk spilled, grinning as he reminisced. “Remember that incident with Professor Kwon?”
“Who can forget?” Junsu countered, eyes crinkling with joy. “That precious day when model student Shim get scolded in front of the whole campus.”
“It happens a few days after the competition. He had, like, tons of essays and Professor Kwon is the counterpart of Severus Snape,” Kibum recounted.
“Professor Kwon streaked the paper under his nose. When that old wizard walked away, Changminnie cursed. Loudly. Like, ‘WICKED OLD COCKROACH, I PRAY FOR YOUR DESTINY UNDER A PAIR OF SLIPPERS!” Junsu reenacted with his high nasal voice, making the room shake with roaring laughter.
“It turned out Professor Kwon was still within hearing range. Imagine what his reaction would be!”
“Our maknae was scolded in the corridor, in front of the whole campus population. It’s quite a scene…”
“But the interesting fact is…”
“He didn’t look remorseful at all…”
“If anything, he was like, ‘don’t care what you did, old folks, I got something much better to do than your assignment’,” Eunhyuk laughed. “That’s weird. He is a perfectionist. Bet something happened the night before that hindered him from doing the task.”
“Something reaaaaally good, since he was smiling all day long, even after the scolding,” Junsu continued, giggling.
“When did that happen?” Jaejoong asked curiously.
“A few days after our coming back from Jeonju. He only said he attended a particularly good party the night after…”
“… and ate particularly good chocolate puddings. Bleh. I’m sure he’d drunk too much liquor instead. He looked so weird, like, dreamy-kind of weird” Eunhyuk huffed.
“Is that…” Jaejoong hesitated. “Sometime around last Tuesday?”
“Yes,” Junsu blinked. “Yes, the party was on Monday night I think, and the paper incident was right the next day. How did you know?”
“That…” The oldest man couldn’t answer, faint redness creeping up his cheeks. It was the night of Jung law firm’s party.
“Changminnie smiling all day is creepy you know, usually it happens when a really evil plan is rolling in motion,” Kibum subtly dropped the topic, but not without a suspecting glance to Jaejoong’s direction. The older man pretended not to see, focusing hard on a hole on their couch, willing the heat on his face to subdue.
“His favorite target is Junsu!” Eunhyuk chirped mirthfully. Junsu made a face beside him, feigning an indignant groan that sounded more like a squeal.
“Always me! What did I even do wrong??”
Jaejoong smiled at their recounts. He could feel the affection they emitted, how fondness seeped into their exasperated sighs. How they wouldn’t want to lose this. How they wouldn’t stay put should any of their mates got hurt.
It sounds like a family.
Jaejoong’s house never felt like this and, he had a hunch, Changmin’s was also not like this. So that was why this band was important for the youngest. That was why he could move on, albeit slowly, but determinedly forward. That was why Jaejoong felt this sudden itch to be a part of this family. To belong.
Eunhyuk had called his insecurity issue stupid. They wanted him to know that he was always welcomed in this band, in this small studio, but deep down he had his fear. He was Hyunyi-noona’s brother. Someone who had hurt Changmin deeply. He didn’t know if the younger man had told his members, but it wasn’t something they could hide. Not to mention the complicated situation they were engaged in during the competition. Despite not showing it, the other members should’ve been wary of him, or rather, afraid that their maknae would get hurt again. Even if Changmin himself had forgiven.
“Now where is our main actor of the day?” Eunhyuk crossed his arms, glancing at the time. Their maknae was more than two hours late.
“This was unlike him,” Kibum frowned. “Shim Changmin was nothing if not pinpoint. Even when he overslept.”
Junsu weighed the cell phone in his palms, worried more than irritated that they couldn’t contact their youngest. “Should we call his home again?”
“Don’t think so. Sooyeon-sshi said he left home hours ago,” the creases on Kibum’s forehead went deeper. “That guy, he’s so gonna pay for making us worried like this.”
“Maybe we should turn on the radio or check the internet news?” Jaejoong suggested. The nagging feeling he dismissed earlier came back stronger, twisting in his stomach. Something was not right. “Who knows…?”
The other three members peered at him. Although they couldn’t bear voicing it out loud, Jaejoong knew all of them were just as troubled by the suggestion.
Much to their relief, at least for now, all radio channels did not air news about accidents, nor was there anything bad on the news portal. Jaejoong exited the web browser on his BlackBerry, feeling more than a bit anxious. Where could he be?
“Guys,” he spoke quietly, chest heavy. “I think we should eat now. The food must have been cold by now.”
“Oh, Jaejoong-hyung,” Junsu gave him a one-armed hug, sensing the disappointment in his voice. “You must have spent a lot of effort preparing those foods. We’re sorry the party turns out like this.”
Dark eyes blinked at the apology. “Don’t be,” he said. “I just… want to kick his ass for being a tardy brat.” He got up from the couch and headed to their small table. Unpacking the cookery one by one, a tight-lipped smile occupied his rosy lips.
Hey brat, how dare you ask me to cook all these in two hours AND then come late yourself? You have to come here NOW, sound and safe so that I can stuff all these into that endless stomach of yours, maybe throw a plate or two to your annoying face. You deserve that. Do you understand?
The cuisine that smelled so wonderful three hours back now looked only slightly appealing. If the others noticed Jaejoong had cooked all Changmin’s favorite, they didn’t say anything.
Come now. Please.
The late lunch was awkward, each of them secretly glancing at the clock or the door or their phones. Sometimes a joke was thrown, how they would strangle the younger man for making them wait in hunger, but after a while they stopped trying. The worry was too thick, coiling in everyone’s stomach, leaving no room for even the most delicious cuisine.
Junsu successfully choked on a piece of japgwapyon when the phone on his lap suddenly vibrated. The first line of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star echoed across the studio.
“That’ hangminnie’ messaj rigthom,” Eunhyuk swallowed a mouthful of kimbap. “That’s Changminnie’s message ringtone.”
Another tug made itself known inside Jaejoong’s chest. He watched as their drummer held the phone in hesitation. “Should I open the message? Maybe he borrowed another phone to text here.”
They exchanged fleeting looks of uncertainty before Junsu took it upon himself, apparently desperate for a hint. A confused look took over his childlike countenance.
“What?” Eunhyuk shifted to read from behind the drummer’s shoulder. “Huh?”
“’This is what happens when you don’t come’,” Junsu recited, a deep frown seemed to cling permanently between his brows. “What does it mean? Who would send such text to him?”
“Come where?” Kibum asked. “Does he have another appointment and forget to tell us?”
“But he called me just two hours before we’re supposed to meet up,” Jaejoong countered.
“Sounds like someone doing something to him because he doesn’t come somewhere,” Eunhyuk mused out loud, and belatedly paled at his own conclusion. The other members threw half-warning glares at him.
“Is there any other message from that number in his inbox?” Jaejoong tried to be calm, albeit panic running rampant in his veins. Unwanted images kept conjuring up in his mind, leading to unpleasant wrapping up. I’m thinking too much. I’m just thinking too much. Next minute he would enter through that door and grin towards us, saying that his car went dead on the way and everything is okay now-
“Uh… only one,” Junsu scrolled through the younger’s inbox, apologetic for invading his bandmate’s privacy. “Yesterday evening. ‘Come to H-29 tomorrow at 12’.”
“What the heck is H-29?!” Eunhyuk hissed in frustration, not prepared to be engaged in some strange mind games.
“We agreed to start the party at 12 too,” Kibum mulled over. “He left the phone yesterday afternoon right? That means he didn’t read that previous text.”
“Did the person think Changmin skipped the meeting on purpose and got angry because of that?” Junsu bit his lower lip. “I’ll… try to call the sender. Maybe we should inform whoever it is that Changminnie didn’t receive his text.”
They waited as the drummer nervously pressed Changmin’s cell phone against one ear. After a while that felt like days, though, he cut the connection with a resigned sigh.
“The call went through but no one picked up.”
“Maybe that person wouldn’t answer if we use Changmin’s number,” Jaejoong pulled his own cell phone from a pocket. Copying the mysterious number onto his screen, he paused before pressing the call button. For some reason, the number looked familiar. Was it someone he knew as well?
A glance at the screen and twin dark eyes widened in disbelief.
Hastily, he brought the device closer to his ear, as if trying to merge it with his skull. “Hello? HELLO?!”
Jaejoong was barely aware of the other members peering at his sudden apprehension, head buzzing with tsunami of questions. He waited for several mind-numbing seconds but the call finally went unanswered. Arm slowly retreating to his side, Jaejoong stared blankly at the wall, as if trying to burn a hole on it.
“… hyung? Jaejoong-hyung!” Kibum’s face entered his vicinity, hand waving vigorously to catch his attention. Swallowing thickly, Jaejoong moved to retrieve his bag, leaving his lunch portion half-eaten. “Why are you suddenly-“
“I think… I need to go home now.” With that, he walked out of the studio, ignoring the other’s more than puzzled expression. But he couldn’t care about it at the moment. He has to meet someone soon, and that someone should have a good explaining by the time they were face to face.
Just you wait. I demand nothing less than truth.
In his list of most recent dialed numbers, the name ‘Yunyun’ perched on top.
---oOo---
Jaejoong stomped through the grandeur front door of his house, each step echoing ominously from one wall to another. The maids who had been baffled by his sunny disposition earlier were now even more puzzled by the drastic mood drop. None of them dared to question when his heavy treads continued towards the music room. The maids who cluttered discreetly outside the living room released their breaths once Jaejoong was out of view, only to jump at the sound of door slamming.
The said young master paused at his stalks, trying to calm himself. Slowly walking to the only table in his prided room, his fingers softly traced the cases of three identical music boxes. One question battled against the next as still no words came about the younger man’s whereabouts. He had tried to call Yunho hundred times, even banging against his childhood friend’s empty bedroom door (he was granted free pass access to every nook in Yunho’s mansion), but to no avail. Yunho was missing, very much like Changmin was.
If he dares to do anything stupid… Jaejoong gritted his teeth, frustrated beyond belief. He resented being kept in the dark. Yunho had never kept any secret from him, simply because the slightly younger man couldn’t say no to Jaejoong’s wants, no matter how absurd or unimportant.
A knock resounded from the door. It took every will in Jaejoong’s being not to slam the door open and glare at the intruder. The dislike leaked into his gaze however, making his maid cower in fear.
“Y-young master, t-there is something in the m-mailbox for you….”
“What now?” The black-haired man snapped, reducing the poor girl more into a shaking mess. Unable to speak under her young master’s deadly glare, the maid simply held out an envelope, eager to flee once he dismissed her.
Anonymous again? He closed the door, checking the plain white envelope for any signature. Finding none, he scrunched up his perfectly crafted nose, beginning to loathe all these secretive business.
Postponing his temper for a while, Jaejoong tore open the envelope. A piece of plain paper tumbled into his palm. There was only one sentence on the span of white.
‘He is in H-29.’
H-29. That cipher again. The vagueness automatically cleared, on who was the sender of these anonymous gifts, although he still couldn’t fathom a purpose. He could only stare at the words, as if they meant no sense, which they kinda did. Whatever in Yunho’s mind told him that Jaejoong would know some creepy code he probably took down from a cheap detective movie? Or exactly, why would Yunho play with him like this?
Exasperated, the classics prodigy went to retrieve his Schubert box, finally uncapping the engraved lid. Maybe there was a hint inside all the presents Yunho sent to him. For whatever ambiguous reason.
Wailing melody of Death and the Maiden startled him. A shudder ran down his arms as the tunes encased the whole room, leaving little space to breathe. This particular work from Schubert always had his soft hairs standing, goosebumps travelling down to each single toe.
‘Gib deine Hand, du schön und zart Gebild! (Give me your hand, you beautiful and tender form!)
Bin Freund, und komme nicht, zu strafen… (I am a friend, and come not to punish…)’
He jumped when the melody was suddenly interrupted by ugly screeching sound, seemingly coming from the box itself. Creases marked his forehead as the cantata stopped flowing, right after the Maiden’s part ended and the Death’s song began. What could a terrible error like this emerge from such a fine artwork?
After some time of thinking, Jaejoong got up searched inside the table drawer, producing a screwdriver. Sometimes he was asked to repair music instruments back then in the orchestra. He could work on some basic components, though the more advanced ones he didn’t dare to. No musician in their right minds would risk damaging an instrument.
Slowly, with utmost care, he unscrewed the plane inside. It clicked open with almost inaudible pop. Undoing the cylinder, he found a folded piece of paper wedged between the pins inside, hindering the metals from playing their assigned tunes.
It was a simple map, drawn hastily with a black pen. Names of roads and buildings presented themselves in sloppy handwriting, obviously done to obscure the real writing style. It took some times before Jaejoong registered the meaning. One spot in particular was written in bold red.
‘H-29’.
Feeling as clueless if not more, he recapped the first box and placed it back on the table. Picking up the Chopin box, he fully expected Nocturne to come out, only to be wronged again when instead, Valse de l’adieu began. The Farewell Waltz.
Melancholy seeped into his skin. It was melody of broken heart, of rejection, when Chopin and Wodzińska parted ways right before their engagement. Again, the melody didn’t get to finish itself, as another screeching reverberated before eerie silence ensued.
Jaejoong absentmindedly removed the plane, again finding another piece of paper wedged between tiny metal pieces. This time it was not a map. Instead, a single word caught his eyes, squeezing his chest painfully until it became hard to breathe.
‘Crush’.
Crush? Jaejoong raked a hand through black locks, getting more and more irked. This game was not funny, as he would definitely tell Yunho when they met again. Whatever it was that Yunho was hinting him, he did not get it and wasn’t eager to play along. No one should play with such strong word. Hands beginning to shake, Jaejoong tried to convince himself that things were not as negative as his overactive mind conjured. Yunho didn’t have anything against him, or rather, against…
Changmin?
Jaejoong could try to fool himself, but he was not that naïve. His best friend thought he was completely clueless, but it was not the case. He might be a bit slow, but he noticed how Yunho treated him like a porcelain doll, how the slightly younger man never minded to indulge even his weirdest whims. If anything, he just didn’t want to delve too much into it, afraid of losing the sincere friendship Yunho offered. He noticed how their relationship strained farther after that night in the party. Maybe he had hurt his best friend’s heart by giving his sole attention to Changmin in Yunho’s family event. Maybe his ignorance hurt Yunho, and the latter put all blames on the wrong person.
Cutting the train of thought before it got too complicated, the classics prodigy settled on the last box, the only one he had opened earlier. Sonata No. 8 flowed fluidly until the end of first movement, before it was cut two bars into the second. He unscrewed the plane again, expecting to find another note, but his blood ran cold at the sight.
His brain came to a forceful stop as he revealed a set of pins, half of those wrecked into pieces. The pins were broken wholeheartedly, as if crushed with a forceful bang. Eyes stinging and mouth dry, he couldn’t imagine anyone being this cruel to the harmless thing. No one had the right to ruin a masterpiece like this.
Anger and disbelief fought inside his muddled mind. He was angry at the careless deed. At the same time, he couldn’t picture Yunho, his sweet best friend, to do such violence. Yunho knew Jaejoong’s fondness towards instruments, understood it more than anyone. There was no way his best friend would want to hurt him this way.
Does he lose his mind? Or is it somebody else?
His head was spinning with enormous waves of unresolved confusion. Alarm went inside his head, warning him that this was not a mere joke. All those dark songs, the note, the violence. Death. Farewell. Crush. Yunho or whoever who had done this held ill means. And they were going to hurt-
Schubert - Chopin - Mozart.
S - C - M.
A gasp tore through his throat. Before long, Jaejoong already dashed out of the house, a wrinkled map clutched tight in his hand.
TBC
A/N: Please don’t kill me; the next part will most probably be up in another few months TT____TT