#58 [EXO, Suho/DO]
Fandom: EXO
Title: Love’s Greeting
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Suho/D.O.
Length: 4,369 words
Notes: Apologies to daeseol, because I, quite honestly, took your idea and ran with it in the opposite direction, into the sunset, screaming. I have another small surprise planned for you, for when this is over. Also, sincerest thanks to D for not only holding my hand, but also wiping away my tears and snot as I stumbled through this.
Remixee author: daeseol
Title of work you remixed: liebesgruss
Link to work you remixed: http://jiuzhu.livejournal.com/5999.html
i was afraid
The long list of achievements that Junmyeon could be proud of, in reality, isn’t actually very long. It is short, with only a few bullet points written in slanted, uneven cursive aligned with countless doodles in the margins of the page in monochrome-but having fulfilled his dream at a young age was good enough for Junmyeon.
He played music for a living after all, and earned in a year what many don’t in their entire lifetimes.
Junmyeon lives and breathes music: the Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra had welcomed him with open arms after his in-studio audition-quite literally, in the case of their resident trumpet player Park Chanyeol and figuratively in the case of their music instructor as he had watched Junmyeon play the violin with delicate, decided movements. The Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra was the oldest Korean orchestra-a showcase for the country, a cultural and economic epicenter and a dream come true for Junmyeon.
too afraid to look back
He had auditioned in his final year as an undergraduate at K-Arts after spending years sleeping next to his violin, choosing the instrument over everything and everyone else. And it all paid off when his position within the orchestra had been tenured a year after his audition, upon his graduation. And then, in the two years that followed, Junmyeon had managed to secure himself the second chair.
Junmyeon wakes up early in the morning, goes out for a run and cooks himself a healthy breakfast before heading out to the rehearsal hall. Rehearsal usually lasts for three hours, to which he is granted an hour and a half long lunch break before returning back to his violin. It is a sedentary lifestyle, predictable and often mundane, but Junmyeon doesn’t mind so much. After housing with Chanyeol in his first year with Seoul Philharmonic, mundane was considered very good.
Unpredicted circumstances were rare enough that Junmyeon could count them on the fingers of his hands, which is why he was beyond perplexed upon being called to meet their orchestra’s conductor after practice hours one day.
“I was hoping to ask you of a favor,” the conductor says when Junmyeon walks into his office later that day. “We are preparing for the Summer Special,” he says and Junmyeon nods obediently, respectfully. He knows this-special showcases are a part of orchestra performances, though that doesn’t entirely explain his stance in the current situation.
“How can I help?” Junmyeon asks.
“I want you to meet with the guest pianist before we make his position within our show official,” says the conductor. He sounds too serious for Junmyeon’s liking. “I want you to see if his playing is compatible with our musicians.”
“I am not nearly as experienced as you are,” Junmyeon imagines himself saying if the request had been negotiable, and if his career as a violinist wasn’t on the line.
“Of course,” he says instead.
“This is the pianist,” the conductor says next, handing Junmyeon a thin file that feels too heavy, yet again too serious.
A list of possible outcomes run through his head: there could be a woman slightly older than him, or a man far older that both of them, or it could be a boy half of Junmyeon’s age. It could be anyone, he realizes, but the face that greets him back leaves Junmyeon speechless.
“He’s-”
“He’s from your own university, I know,” the conductor says, the tone of his voice hinting that he knows more than he lets on. Junmyeon desperately hopes otherwise. “This is why I ask you of this favor,” he says, “I hope you plan to meet with him soon.”
“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, licking his lips before closing the file in his hand hastily. It is not a request, it’s a command. “I’ll go check him out tomorrow.”
afraid to turn around and not find you there
Junmyeon feels uncharacteristically nervous walking into the university campus the very next day. The sun is too hot, his throat is too dry and while walking past the administration building, Junmyeon thinks that he could make an entire list of the things that aren’t to his liking. Everything looks the same, he thinks, stepping into the canteen full of half-asleep students. Everything looks exactly the same. As if Junmyeon had never left.
As if he hadn’t walked away without a second glance.
He makes his way towards the Department of Composition with trepidation, checking his watch repeatedly as he stands by the entrance of the building, knowing that students will be trickling out of their classes in a matter of minutes. He stands there quietly, restlessly, eyes trained on the door his pianist would be walking out of and when the first students start appearing, Junmyeon steps away from the wall he had been leaning against and straightens himself up. Standing on the tip of his toes, he tries to catch the attention of the pianist with mud red hair, the pianist who is the cause of his current distress.
The boy isn’t exceptionally tall and it takes a while for Junmyeon to spot him amidst the wave of students. It isn’t difficult to catch the boy’s attention though, because everyone is staring at Junmyeon, pointing fingers at the ex-student that used to spend hours every day in the very same building.
“Kyungsoo!” Junmyeon calls, weaving his way through the crowd of people pouring out of the building. The boy is in a pair of loose jeans, a casual button up and an overflowing binder in his hands. It’s been too long since he was here the last time, he thinks when Kyungsoo looks up in his direction, it’s been too long since he has done this.
“Oh,” Kyungsoo says, eyeing Junmyeon with wide, clear eyes. He’s surprised, Junmyeon knows. Anyone would be. “Hi.”
“I hope you still remember me,” Junmyeon says softly, smiling at Kyungsoo. The smile is forced, just like his presence in this part of the city, but only slightly. The circumstances are an excuse, more than anything, for Junmyeon to be doing this.
“Kim Junmyeon,” the boy says, raising an eyebrow at Junmyeon’s words, clearly amused. Kyungsoo always had been a little judgmental of Junmyeon’s antics, but he never spoke against it. “Our university’s star violinist, of course.”
“I heard you are quite a pianist yourself now.”
“I try,” Kyungsoo says, brushing dust off the polo shirt that hangs off his shoulders in a familiar manner. Junmyeon looks around at the crowd, slightly wincing at the loud voices that surround them, but even amongst the rush of people, Junmyeon can hear the easy manner in which Kyungsoo’s voice travels through the air.
“I am glad you still remember me,” he admits, a second later.
It had been one of his worries-being forgotten, as if he had never existed. They both laugh at his words but it’s not the same. It is the same place, the same stifling weather, the same hassle around them but too much time has passed. It’s similar, but not quite. It’s been too long.
“It’s been so long,” Junmyeon says, unable to stop the slight sadness from slipping into his voice. “It has been so long since-”
“So what are you doing here?” Kyungsoo asks him instead, cutting Junmyeon off mid-sentence. He’s doing both himself and Junmyeon a favor, Junmyeon thinks gratefully.
“Do you want to grab something to eat?” Junmyeon finds himself asking, voice not missing a beat, yet inwardly cringing at how hopeful it sounds. He looks at his watch-it’s almost three in the afternoon and he’s four hours too late, but Kyungsoo has never turned him down before.
“Sure,” Kyungsoo says, nodding at Junmyeon’s suggestion and Junmyeon lets out a nervous laugh. Of course, of all the people that could have been asked to be the guest pianist, it had had to be Kyungsoo.
“Just like old times.”
but it all seems so easy now, too easy
“What brings you here?” Kyungsoo asks again as the glass doors slide open before them. The cold air brushes against the tips of Junmyeon’s fingers, slipping past him before he can grab onto numbing frost.
“I was out on orchestra-related business so I figured I should stop by and say hello,” Junmyeon replies easily. It isn’t entirely untrue, he reasons mentally. Besides, what Kyungsoo doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
“Orchestra-related business,” Kyungsoo repeats, skeptically.
“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. Kyungsoo continues to eye him warily, doubtfully, for the next passing seconds and Junmyeon belatedly realizes that it is Kyungsoo he is lying to, the boy he’d once shared his secrets and sorrows with. “So I heard you’ve been spending quality time with your piano,” he adds desperately.
“Each one of you graduated,” Kyungsoo says with a shrug, smiling at the cashier as he orders himself a small plate of lasagna. “I had no one to annoy.”
“You make it sound like we abandoned you,” Junmyeon teases, heart sinking lower and lower into his stomach with each word. He had abandoned Kyungsoo, pretending that he was too busy to keep up with his friends as soon as he graduated. He also knows that the space he created between himself and Kyungsoo should make him try harder, it shouldn’t terrify him this much.
“Well, I still hang out with Minseok-hyung sometimes,” Kyungsoo says and Junmyeon just barely manages to keep the grimace off his face. He wants to run. “But you never call-”
“I want to hear you play,” Junmyeon says, cutting Kyungsoo off hastily. Their conversation is steadily slipping down a dangerous slope with many sharp turns and very few words of comfort. He’d rather not think of the number of people he has let down, rather not think of someone that isn’t him being there for Kyungsoo. “I want to hear you play the piano today.”
“Now?”
“How about later tonight?” Junmyeon wonders. It is then that he realizes something: he isn’t just doing this for the orchestra; he’s doing this for himself, using work as an excuse to cross boundaries he had once drawn himself. “I’ll drive us back to the campus,” he says.
“We could use the music room, yeah,” Kyungsoo agrees.
Sitting there opposite Kyungsoo, with two plates of half-eaten, fully-fired junk, Junmyeon wonders how long this is going to last. He wonders how much time he has already used up-how many hours, minutes and seconds are left before Kyungsoo would walk away this time, the same way Junmyeon had two years ago.
A few hours ago, Junmyeon had no idea how Kyungsoo was living his life. Everything had been said and done; he had said his goodbyes, packed his bags and parted without harsh feelings. But here he is now, two years later-stable job, lonely condo and all. Here he is now, two years later, and suddenly Kyungsoo is in front of him again, making him feel too hopeful, too soon.
people tell me love is for fools and here i go
Kyungsoo was known amongst their small group of friends as the one born with musical talent but Junmyeon never knew the shorter male to be this talented. He played the instrument with the practiced ease of someone who has spent countless hours next to it, much like Junmyeon and his violin. Kyungsoo’s still learning though, Junmyeon notes distantly, as he watches Kyungsoo’s fingers dance across the keys gracefully. The emotion portrayed in Kyungsoo’s music is fresh, raw, and Junmyeon’s speechless at how captivating the melody is.
“Oh,” Junmyeon says when the music comes to a stop. He tries to control himself and fails miserably at masking his thoughts. “Wow,” he adds, trying not to stare at Kyungsoo. “That was amazing,” he says, trying and trying but it’s not working. “You were beyond amazing, honestly. God, I had no idea you were this good, Soo.”
“Still a flatterer, I see,” Kyungsoo mutters with narrowed eyes. There’s a faint blush painted across his cheeks and it’s one of the most beautiful sights Junmyeon has seen in a long, long while.
“I am serious,” he insists. “You deserve everything I’ve said-”
“And what you deserve,” Kyungsoo cuts him off with a roll of his eyes and a cheeky grin, “is a kick to your tiny as fuck ass for not contacting me for two years.”
Junmyeon gulps.
“And another kick for thinking that it’s okay to come back and act as if nothing happened,” Kyungsoo adds, shoulders deflating and voice softening towards the end of his sentence.
“I didn’t-”
Kyungsoo looks away then, turning back to the piano and Junmyeon’s words die on his tip of his tongue. There are so many things he’s too afraid to say, so many feelings that he doesn’t know how to convey, so he doesn’t say anything. He could say he didn’t mean to run away from Kyungsoo, he could bring up how much he wants to see him regularly and how he wants to hold Kyungsoo’s hands, but now is not the time. It would make him look desperate and insincere, and Junmyeon’s too old to be repeating such immature mistakes.
He doesn’t want to ruin his chance and he follows through with his plan by picking up his violin again and accompanying Kyungsoo this time, not with words but with music. Music is the one language he has no problem communicating in. Kyungsoo just so happens to understand it too.
Later that night, Junmyeon picks up his phone and types out a message to the orchestra’s conductor. I heard Kyungsoo play today, he says as soon as the call connects. Kyungsoo would make a great addition to our team.
It’s his opinion, albeit slightly biased, and that’s what the orchestra’s conductor had asked for. There’s another sentence making its way out of his mouth before he can stop himself. Any orchestra in the world would be lucky to have him play for them.
here i go breaking all the rules
They’re out again-they’re always out together these days, it seems, taking miniscule steps back to the way their easy friendship used to be. This time it’s a Vietnamese restaurant and two steaming bowls of rice noodles are being placed in front of them when Kyungsoo’s phone rings.
The ringtone is set to a piano piece Junmyeon recognizes but has no name for. The tune is familiar though, unlike the frown on Kyungsoo’s lips.
“Weird,” Kyungsoo mumbles, looking up at Junmyeon with furrowed brows. “It’s an unregistered number.”
He holds the phone up for Junmyeon to see and Junmyeon nearly chokes at the digits displayed on the screen. It’s a number he’d recognize anywhere.
“Hello?” Kyungsoo says into the phone and Junmyeon sits up straight, eyeing Kyungsoo’s reactions carefully. “Oh,” Kyungsoo breathes into the phone a second later, tone surprised but only mildly. “Oh, wow, okay. Yes,” he says into the phone.
The call lasts barely an entire minute but feel like an hour to Junmyeon. He’s on the edge of his seat, smiling hopefully by the time Kyungsoo says, “it sounds great, I’ll get back to you soon.”
Things can go two ways from here, he thinks, watching Kyungsoo end the call. Either Kyungsoo’s sudden presence in his quiet life is going to be prolonged or Kyungsoo’s going to be out the door, walking away from Junmyeon in a heartbeat. It is odd how, in a deformed, twisted way, it feels as if they’re together, as if they are in an actual relationship. And if Kyungsoo chose to walk away, it’d almost feel as if Junmyeon had been rejected. Dumped.
Junmyeon can hardly remember how his life as a violinist had been without daily lunch dates with Kyungsoo.
He opens his mouth to ask Kyungsoo what his orchestra’s conductor has said to him but Kyungsoo beats him to it.
“What kind of ‘orchestra-related business’ were you exactly up to last week?” is the first thing he asks.
“Well, you see-”
“I cannot believe you did that you me!” Kyungsoo exclaims, bringing his arm up and punching Junmyeon’s bicep. It’s supposed to hurt, but Junmyeon can’t feel a thing, his brain choosing to focus on the pleased, melodious laughter spilling from Kyungsoo’s mouth instead. “You douche bag!”
“Listen, Kyungsoo, I can explain-”
“Really? You can explain?” Kyungsoo challenges him with a playful glare, followed by yet another laugh. He looks so happy that Junmyeon finds it physically impossible not to smile along, finds it impossible to looks away from the smile that has his heart pounding painfully. “Is this really happening?” Kyungsoo continues, softly.
“What.”
“They said they’d be honored to have me play with them,” he says, beaming giddily. His tone is dream-like, as if he finds it surreal. To Junmyeon, it’s surreal how close Kyungsoo is now, right in front of him. So close but still out of his reach. “They said they’d be honored if I considered accepting their invitation.”
“Yeah, of course,” Junmyeon says. “The honor would be all ours.”
the arrow has left his bow
“Masterpiece Series V, with Hyundai,” Kyungsoo reads out loud over and over again two days later, eyes glued onto the computer screen. “Myun-Whun Chung, Conductor,” he reiterates and Junmyeon laughs fondly. “Kyungsoo Do, Piano.”
“Oh, will you stop?” Junmyeon asks, rolling his eyes at the shorter male before tackling him down playfully.
and it’s bound to hit
“This is Chanyeol,” Junmyeon finds himself saying a few days later. He has already taken Kyungsoo to Seoul Philharmonic’s conductor, introduced him to everyone else on the administration committee and has consequently run out of excuses to prevent this meeting. “This is Park Chanyeol,” he repeats, “the man with the body of a second-hand Toyota but a mouth that spews words faster than the speed of sound.”
“Oh, you little shit, you didn’t!” said boy cries before pulling him in a headlock and punching him in the gut.
“Don’t mind them,” the boy next to Chanyeol-Kim Jongdae-says, as if this is a normal occurrence, as if Junmyeon breaking out into tears melodramatically is considered a norm. Junmyeon whimpers with feeling and Jongdae looks back at him like he has no plans of stopping either of them. Kyungsoo beams at Junmeyon and watches his friend double up in pain with amusement.
It is only after Junmyeon has spent the rest of the day watching Kyungsoo converse with Chanyeol and Jongdae, that the fact that Kyungsoo’s going to be around for a while truly sinks in and the clock starts ticking again.
Hours blend into days that blend into weeks in a seamless manner after that, and spending more than half of the day with Kyungsoo becomes a normal occurrence. Junmyeon finds it scary how effortlessly Kyungsoo becomes a part of his daily life once again. It reminds him of the days he had once spent in a quiet music room on the other side of the city, of the hours a young boy had spent with him, watching him play the violin for hours on end. It also reminds him of their abrupt falling out. Another regret. Another miss on the list.
where it hurts
“Are you nervous?” Junmyeon asks, sending a small smile in Kyungsoo’s direction. It’s been a little under two months since Kyungsoo started coming in to practice with the orchestra and now here they are today: standing backstage amongst last-minute technical run-throughs and a mildly flustered Junmyeon.
“Scared shitless,” Kyungsoo breathes out.
In Junmyeon’s opinion, Kyungsoo looks breathtaking, unsurprisingly so, with his bow tie on and hair styled away from his face. They are both dressed in tuxedos, though Junmyeon’s outfit is far simpler than Kyungsoo’s intricate, custom made one. It’s made to compliment his figure, built around the pianist, just like their upcoming show.
“It’ll be fine,” Junmeyon assures him, bringing his hands up to smoothen out the creases on Kyungsoo’s bow tie. He moves his hands and places them on his shoulders next. “It will be fine,” he repeats.
“I know, I know,” Kyungsoo says with a sigh. He chews on his bottom lip but does nothing to move away from Junmyeon.
“You look great, by the way,” Junmyeon adds a second later. Kyungsoo’s body is warm under his palm, the kind of warm a roll of wool feels on a cold winter morning, the kind of warm Junmyeon would associate to a home. He wishes he could warp his fingers around Kyungsoo the same way too and take him everywhere he went, like a warm sweater, his favorite one. He’d never let Kyungsoo out of his sight again, even in summer.
“Such a flatterer,” he mumbles in return. “But I must admit,” he continues, winking, “you don’t look half bad yourself.”
“I try.”
“Please,” Kyungsoo says, rolling his eyes and finally stepping away from Junmyeon. “All you have to do is stand and look pretty to have anyone you want tripping over their feet and falling head over heels.”
What if I want you, Junmyeon wants to say. Would you fall for me too? he wants to ask, but he’s never been the one whose good with words, not when he’s around Kyungsoo, so for the umpteenth time, he watches Kyungsoo slip out the door with rushed steps.
but even when the whole world desires you
Their orchestra does consist of noticeably young players, and while they aren’t always at their best, they put up an exceptionally entrancing performance that night. Debussy’s ‘La Mer’ and Ravel’s ‘La Valse’ is played in the first half of the show. The performance is big and bold, grand, and the audience watches, amazed, as their conductor goes in for grand gestures, rich sonorities and intense colors.
These are the moments Junmyeon lives for; he lives to be a part of something this beautiful.
Being able to do what he loves in a room full of others who appreciate music is a feeling he can never quite explain verbally. And having Kyungsoo in the hall makes it all the more special. Kyungsoo plays as the program’s powerhouse conclusion; he plays with large theatrical gestures. His performance is cinematic, picture perfect, and the melodies are drawn out to full sob potential.
Kyungsoo doesn’t see himself as anyone special. He doesn’t see himself as someone who would have the potential to shine amidst a sea of people but Junmyeon sees it all too clearly. And it’s all he can think about as he accompanies Kyungsoo’s concerto with his violin: Kyungsoo is the one playing centre-stage while Junmyeon is hidden amongst a small wave of violinists, seated far away from Kyungsoo. The younger boy shines so brightly that it’s painful.
Kyungsoo’s shining, shining and shining, and Junmyeon’s the one who’s burning from the heat.
you are still here right next to me
After the concert, the first thing Kyungsoo does as Junmyeon approaches him is throw himself onto Junmyeon, wrapping his arms around the slightly older man. Junmyeon lets out a surprised laugh and brings his arms up to wrap them around Kyungsoo. The next thing he does, when they pull apart, is grab onto Junmyeon’s crooked tie and pull him downwards, crashing their mouths together.
Kyungsoo pulls back instantly, fearfully, pushing Junmyeon away with a grin fueled entirely with adrenaline. “I’ve wanted to do that,” he says. He doesn’t sound regretful at all. “For a few years now.”
“I-” Junmyeon starts and falters. He’s too surprised to react. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say or how to respond. He could say so many things here: he could tell Kyungsoo about all the thoughts that are bottled within him, growing and growing over the years. He could tell Kyungsoo about that time he almost-
“That was nice, yes,” is the first thing Junmyeon manages to say instead.
“We should do it again, then,” Kyungsoo says.
“I want to say something first,” Junmyeon says. Kyungsoo is giving him a second chance and he desperately wants things to work out. He’s been carrying his empty sheet of few accomplishments and too many regrets for a very long time now, doodling Kyungsoo’s name by the margins every once in a while.
“I am sorry,” he says. “I am sorry for being a complete douche bag two years ago and even two months ago, when we met. I was scared and I’ve been running away for so long but you’re still just as kind and mesmerizing and-oh god. I am so sorry, Kyungsoo-”
The pointed look Kyungsoo gives Junmyeon shuts him up effectively.
“I just-” Junmyeon tries again. “I just want you to know that I am sorry. For everything.”
“I know, I know,” Kyungsoo says with a scoff, stepping closer. He rolls his eyes too, but there’s no bite in his actions. “It’s okay.”
and it is so easy
don’t miss my handsome face too much while you’re presenting
“Honestly," Kyungsoo huffs, looking up from his phone and facing the cheeky grin Junmyeon is throwing his way. He glares back and Junmyeon’s grin broadens further. He’s almost glad that he hadn’t read the message before his last presentation as an undergraduate. Almost. "You, Kim Junmyeon, are the most arrogant bastard I've ever had the misfortune of meeting.”
"And yet you’re still here, next to me."
"Oh, shut up."
it’s so easy
to fall in love with you
all over again
Title: Love’s Greeting
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Suho/D.O.
Length: 4,369 words
Notes: Apologies to daeseol, because I, quite honestly, took your idea and ran with it in the opposite direction, into the sunset, screaming. I have another small surprise planned for you, for when this is over. Also, sincerest thanks to D for not only holding my hand, but also wiping away my tears and snot as I stumbled through this.
Remixee author: daeseol
Title of work you remixed: liebesgruss
Link to work you remixed: http://jiuzhu.livejournal.com/5999.html
i was afraid
The long list of achievements that Junmyeon could be proud of, in reality, isn’t actually very long. It is short, with only a few bullet points written in slanted, uneven cursive aligned with countless doodles in the margins of the page in monochrome-but having fulfilled his dream at a young age was good enough for Junmyeon.
He played music for a living after all, and earned in a year what many don’t in their entire lifetimes.
Junmyeon lives and breathes music: the Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra had welcomed him with open arms after his in-studio audition-quite literally, in the case of their resident trumpet player Park Chanyeol and figuratively in the case of their music instructor as he had watched Junmyeon play the violin with delicate, decided movements. The Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra was the oldest Korean orchestra-a showcase for the country, a cultural and economic epicenter and a dream come true for Junmyeon.
too afraid to look back
He had auditioned in his final year as an undergraduate at K-Arts after spending years sleeping next to his violin, choosing the instrument over everything and everyone else. And it all paid off when his position within the orchestra had been tenured a year after his audition, upon his graduation. And then, in the two years that followed, Junmyeon had managed to secure himself the second chair.
Junmyeon wakes up early in the morning, goes out for a run and cooks himself a healthy breakfast before heading out to the rehearsal hall. Rehearsal usually lasts for three hours, to which he is granted an hour and a half long lunch break before returning back to his violin. It is a sedentary lifestyle, predictable and often mundane, but Junmyeon doesn’t mind so much. After housing with Chanyeol in his first year with Seoul Philharmonic, mundane was considered very good.
Unpredicted circumstances were rare enough that Junmyeon could count them on the fingers of his hands, which is why he was beyond perplexed upon being called to meet their orchestra’s conductor after practice hours one day.
“I was hoping to ask you of a favor,” the conductor says when Junmyeon walks into his office later that day. “We are preparing for the Summer Special,” he says and Junmyeon nods obediently, respectfully. He knows this-special showcases are a part of orchestra performances, though that doesn’t entirely explain his stance in the current situation.
“How can I help?” Junmyeon asks.
“I want you to meet with the guest pianist before we make his position within our show official,” says the conductor. He sounds too serious for Junmyeon’s liking. “I want you to see if his playing is compatible with our musicians.”
“I am not nearly as experienced as you are,” Junmyeon imagines himself saying if the request had been negotiable, and if his career as a violinist wasn’t on the line.
“Of course,” he says instead.
“This is the pianist,” the conductor says next, handing Junmyeon a thin file that feels too heavy, yet again too serious.
A list of possible outcomes run through his head: there could be a woman slightly older than him, or a man far older that both of them, or it could be a boy half of Junmyeon’s age. It could be anyone, he realizes, but the face that greets him back leaves Junmyeon speechless.
“He’s-”
“He’s from your own university, I know,” the conductor says, the tone of his voice hinting that he knows more than he lets on. Junmyeon desperately hopes otherwise. “This is why I ask you of this favor,” he says, “I hope you plan to meet with him soon.”
“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, licking his lips before closing the file in his hand hastily. It is not a request, it’s a command. “I’ll go check him out tomorrow.”
afraid to turn around and not find you there
Junmyeon feels uncharacteristically nervous walking into the university campus the very next day. The sun is too hot, his throat is too dry and while walking past the administration building, Junmyeon thinks that he could make an entire list of the things that aren’t to his liking. Everything looks the same, he thinks, stepping into the canteen full of half-asleep students. Everything looks exactly the same. As if Junmyeon had never left.
As if he hadn’t walked away without a second glance.
He makes his way towards the Department of Composition with trepidation, checking his watch repeatedly as he stands by the entrance of the building, knowing that students will be trickling out of their classes in a matter of minutes. He stands there quietly, restlessly, eyes trained on the door his pianist would be walking out of and when the first students start appearing, Junmyeon steps away from the wall he had been leaning against and straightens himself up. Standing on the tip of his toes, he tries to catch the attention of the pianist with mud red hair, the pianist who is the cause of his current distress.
The boy isn’t exceptionally tall and it takes a while for Junmyeon to spot him amidst the wave of students. It isn’t difficult to catch the boy’s attention though, because everyone is staring at Junmyeon, pointing fingers at the ex-student that used to spend hours every day in the very same building.
“Kyungsoo!” Junmyeon calls, weaving his way through the crowd of people pouring out of the building. The boy is in a pair of loose jeans, a casual button up and an overflowing binder in his hands. It’s been too long since he was here the last time, he thinks when Kyungsoo looks up in his direction, it’s been too long since he has done this.
“Oh,” Kyungsoo says, eyeing Junmyeon with wide, clear eyes. He’s surprised, Junmyeon knows. Anyone would be. “Hi.”
“I hope you still remember me,” Junmyeon says softly, smiling at Kyungsoo. The smile is forced, just like his presence in this part of the city, but only slightly. The circumstances are an excuse, more than anything, for Junmyeon to be doing this.
“Kim Junmyeon,” the boy says, raising an eyebrow at Junmyeon’s words, clearly amused. Kyungsoo always had been a little judgmental of Junmyeon’s antics, but he never spoke against it. “Our university’s star violinist, of course.”
“I heard you are quite a pianist yourself now.”
“I try,” Kyungsoo says, brushing dust off the polo shirt that hangs off his shoulders in a familiar manner. Junmyeon looks around at the crowd, slightly wincing at the loud voices that surround them, but even amongst the rush of people, Junmyeon can hear the easy manner in which Kyungsoo’s voice travels through the air.
“I am glad you still remember me,” he admits, a second later.
It had been one of his worries-being forgotten, as if he had never existed. They both laugh at his words but it’s not the same. It is the same place, the same stifling weather, the same hassle around them but too much time has passed. It’s similar, but not quite. It’s been too long.
“It’s been so long,” Junmyeon says, unable to stop the slight sadness from slipping into his voice. “It has been so long since-”
“So what are you doing here?” Kyungsoo asks him instead, cutting Junmyeon off mid-sentence. He’s doing both himself and Junmyeon a favor, Junmyeon thinks gratefully.
“Do you want to grab something to eat?” Junmyeon finds himself asking, voice not missing a beat, yet inwardly cringing at how hopeful it sounds. He looks at his watch-it’s almost three in the afternoon and he’s four hours too late, but Kyungsoo has never turned him down before.
“Sure,” Kyungsoo says, nodding at Junmyeon’s suggestion and Junmyeon lets out a nervous laugh. Of course, of all the people that could have been asked to be the guest pianist, it had had to be Kyungsoo.
“Just like old times.”
but it all seems so easy now, too easy
“What brings you here?” Kyungsoo asks again as the glass doors slide open before them. The cold air brushes against the tips of Junmyeon’s fingers, slipping past him before he can grab onto numbing frost.
“I was out on orchestra-related business so I figured I should stop by and say hello,” Junmyeon replies easily. It isn’t entirely untrue, he reasons mentally. Besides, what Kyungsoo doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
“Orchestra-related business,” Kyungsoo repeats, skeptically.
“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. Kyungsoo continues to eye him warily, doubtfully, for the next passing seconds and Junmyeon belatedly realizes that it is Kyungsoo he is lying to, the boy he’d once shared his secrets and sorrows with. “So I heard you’ve been spending quality time with your piano,” he adds desperately.
“Each one of you graduated,” Kyungsoo says with a shrug, smiling at the cashier as he orders himself a small plate of lasagna. “I had no one to annoy.”
“You make it sound like we abandoned you,” Junmyeon teases, heart sinking lower and lower into his stomach with each word. He had abandoned Kyungsoo, pretending that he was too busy to keep up with his friends as soon as he graduated. He also knows that the space he created between himself and Kyungsoo should make him try harder, it shouldn’t terrify him this much.
“Well, I still hang out with Minseok-hyung sometimes,” Kyungsoo says and Junmyeon just barely manages to keep the grimace off his face. He wants to run. “But you never call-”
“I want to hear you play,” Junmyeon says, cutting Kyungsoo off hastily. Their conversation is steadily slipping down a dangerous slope with many sharp turns and very few words of comfort. He’d rather not think of the number of people he has let down, rather not think of someone that isn’t him being there for Kyungsoo. “I want to hear you play the piano today.”
“Now?”
“How about later tonight?” Junmyeon wonders. It is then that he realizes something: he isn’t just doing this for the orchestra; he’s doing this for himself, using work as an excuse to cross boundaries he had once drawn himself. “I’ll drive us back to the campus,” he says.
“We could use the music room, yeah,” Kyungsoo agrees.
Sitting there opposite Kyungsoo, with two plates of half-eaten, fully-fired junk, Junmyeon wonders how long this is going to last. He wonders how much time he has already used up-how many hours, minutes and seconds are left before Kyungsoo would walk away this time, the same way Junmyeon had two years ago.
A few hours ago, Junmyeon had no idea how Kyungsoo was living his life. Everything had been said and done; he had said his goodbyes, packed his bags and parted without harsh feelings. But here he is now, two years later-stable job, lonely condo and all. Here he is now, two years later, and suddenly Kyungsoo is in front of him again, making him feel too hopeful, too soon.
people tell me love is for fools and here i go
Kyungsoo was known amongst their small group of friends as the one born with musical talent but Junmyeon never knew the shorter male to be this talented. He played the instrument with the practiced ease of someone who has spent countless hours next to it, much like Junmyeon and his violin. Kyungsoo’s still learning though, Junmyeon notes distantly, as he watches Kyungsoo’s fingers dance across the keys gracefully. The emotion portrayed in Kyungsoo’s music is fresh, raw, and Junmyeon’s speechless at how captivating the melody is.
“Oh,” Junmyeon says when the music comes to a stop. He tries to control himself and fails miserably at masking his thoughts. “Wow,” he adds, trying not to stare at Kyungsoo. “That was amazing,” he says, trying and trying but it’s not working. “You were beyond amazing, honestly. God, I had no idea you were this good, Soo.”
“Still a flatterer, I see,” Kyungsoo mutters with narrowed eyes. There’s a faint blush painted across his cheeks and it’s one of the most beautiful sights Junmyeon has seen in a long, long while.
“I am serious,” he insists. “You deserve everything I’ve said-”
“And what you deserve,” Kyungsoo cuts him off with a roll of his eyes and a cheeky grin, “is a kick to your tiny as fuck ass for not contacting me for two years.”
Junmyeon gulps.
“And another kick for thinking that it’s okay to come back and act as if nothing happened,” Kyungsoo adds, shoulders deflating and voice softening towards the end of his sentence.
“I didn’t-”
Kyungsoo looks away then, turning back to the piano and Junmyeon’s words die on his tip of his tongue. There are so many things he’s too afraid to say, so many feelings that he doesn’t know how to convey, so he doesn’t say anything. He could say he didn’t mean to run away from Kyungsoo, he could bring up how much he wants to see him regularly and how he wants to hold Kyungsoo’s hands, but now is not the time. It would make him look desperate and insincere, and Junmyeon’s too old to be repeating such immature mistakes.
He doesn’t want to ruin his chance and he follows through with his plan by picking up his violin again and accompanying Kyungsoo this time, not with words but with music. Music is the one language he has no problem communicating in. Kyungsoo just so happens to understand it too.
Later that night, Junmyeon picks up his phone and types out a message to the orchestra’s conductor. I heard Kyungsoo play today, he says as soon as the call connects. Kyungsoo would make a great addition to our team.
It’s his opinion, albeit slightly biased, and that’s what the orchestra’s conductor had asked for. There’s another sentence making its way out of his mouth before he can stop himself. Any orchestra in the world would be lucky to have him play for them.
here i go breaking all the rules
They’re out again-they’re always out together these days, it seems, taking miniscule steps back to the way their easy friendship used to be. This time it’s a Vietnamese restaurant and two steaming bowls of rice noodles are being placed in front of them when Kyungsoo’s phone rings.
The ringtone is set to a piano piece Junmyeon recognizes but has no name for. The tune is familiar though, unlike the frown on Kyungsoo’s lips.
“Weird,” Kyungsoo mumbles, looking up at Junmyeon with furrowed brows. “It’s an unregistered number.”
He holds the phone up for Junmyeon to see and Junmyeon nearly chokes at the digits displayed on the screen. It’s a number he’d recognize anywhere.
“Hello?” Kyungsoo says into the phone and Junmyeon sits up straight, eyeing Kyungsoo’s reactions carefully. “Oh,” Kyungsoo breathes into the phone a second later, tone surprised but only mildly. “Oh, wow, okay. Yes,” he says into the phone.
The call lasts barely an entire minute but feel like an hour to Junmyeon. He’s on the edge of his seat, smiling hopefully by the time Kyungsoo says, “it sounds great, I’ll get back to you soon.”
Things can go two ways from here, he thinks, watching Kyungsoo end the call. Either Kyungsoo’s sudden presence in his quiet life is going to be prolonged or Kyungsoo’s going to be out the door, walking away from Junmyeon in a heartbeat. It is odd how, in a deformed, twisted way, it feels as if they’re together, as if they are in an actual relationship. And if Kyungsoo chose to walk away, it’d almost feel as if Junmyeon had been rejected. Dumped.
Junmyeon can hardly remember how his life as a violinist had been without daily lunch dates with Kyungsoo.
He opens his mouth to ask Kyungsoo what his orchestra’s conductor has said to him but Kyungsoo beats him to it.
“What kind of ‘orchestra-related business’ were you exactly up to last week?” is the first thing he asks.
“Well, you see-”
“I cannot believe you did that you me!” Kyungsoo exclaims, bringing his arm up and punching Junmyeon’s bicep. It’s supposed to hurt, but Junmyeon can’t feel a thing, his brain choosing to focus on the pleased, melodious laughter spilling from Kyungsoo’s mouth instead. “You douche bag!”
“Listen, Kyungsoo, I can explain-”
“Really? You can explain?” Kyungsoo challenges him with a playful glare, followed by yet another laugh. He looks so happy that Junmyeon finds it physically impossible not to smile along, finds it impossible to looks away from the smile that has his heart pounding painfully. “Is this really happening?” Kyungsoo continues, softly.
“What.”
“They said they’d be honored to have me play with them,” he says, beaming giddily. His tone is dream-like, as if he finds it surreal. To Junmyeon, it’s surreal how close Kyungsoo is now, right in front of him. So close but still out of his reach. “They said they’d be honored if I considered accepting their invitation.”
“Yeah, of course,” Junmyeon says. “The honor would be all ours.”
the arrow has left his bow
“Masterpiece Series V, with Hyundai,” Kyungsoo reads out loud over and over again two days later, eyes glued onto the computer screen. “Myun-Whun Chung, Conductor,” he reiterates and Junmyeon laughs fondly. “Kyungsoo Do, Piano.”
“Oh, will you stop?” Junmyeon asks, rolling his eyes at the shorter male before tackling him down playfully.
and it’s bound to hit
“This is Chanyeol,” Junmyeon finds himself saying a few days later. He has already taken Kyungsoo to Seoul Philharmonic’s conductor, introduced him to everyone else on the administration committee and has consequently run out of excuses to prevent this meeting. “This is Park Chanyeol,” he repeats, “the man with the body of a second-hand Toyota but a mouth that spews words faster than the speed of sound.”
“Oh, you little shit, you didn’t!” said boy cries before pulling him in a headlock and punching him in the gut.
“Don’t mind them,” the boy next to Chanyeol-Kim Jongdae-says, as if this is a normal occurrence, as if Junmyeon breaking out into tears melodramatically is considered a norm. Junmyeon whimpers with feeling and Jongdae looks back at him like he has no plans of stopping either of them. Kyungsoo beams at Junmeyon and watches his friend double up in pain with amusement.
It is only after Junmyeon has spent the rest of the day watching Kyungsoo converse with Chanyeol and Jongdae, that the fact that Kyungsoo’s going to be around for a while truly sinks in and the clock starts ticking again.
Hours blend into days that blend into weeks in a seamless manner after that, and spending more than half of the day with Kyungsoo becomes a normal occurrence. Junmyeon finds it scary how effortlessly Kyungsoo becomes a part of his daily life once again. It reminds him of the days he had once spent in a quiet music room on the other side of the city, of the hours a young boy had spent with him, watching him play the violin for hours on end. It also reminds him of their abrupt falling out. Another regret. Another miss on the list.
where it hurts
“Are you nervous?” Junmyeon asks, sending a small smile in Kyungsoo’s direction. It’s been a little under two months since Kyungsoo started coming in to practice with the orchestra and now here they are today: standing backstage amongst last-minute technical run-throughs and a mildly flustered Junmyeon.
“Scared shitless,” Kyungsoo breathes out.
In Junmyeon’s opinion, Kyungsoo looks breathtaking, unsurprisingly so, with his bow tie on and hair styled away from his face. They are both dressed in tuxedos, though Junmyeon’s outfit is far simpler than Kyungsoo’s intricate, custom made one. It’s made to compliment his figure, built around the pianist, just like their upcoming show.
“It’ll be fine,” Junmeyon assures him, bringing his hands up to smoothen out the creases on Kyungsoo’s bow tie. He moves his hands and places them on his shoulders next. “It will be fine,” he repeats.
“I know, I know,” Kyungsoo says with a sigh. He chews on his bottom lip but does nothing to move away from Junmyeon.
“You look great, by the way,” Junmyeon adds a second later. Kyungsoo’s body is warm under his palm, the kind of warm a roll of wool feels on a cold winter morning, the kind of warm Junmyeon would associate to a home. He wishes he could warp his fingers around Kyungsoo the same way too and take him everywhere he went, like a warm sweater, his favorite one. He’d never let Kyungsoo out of his sight again, even in summer.
“Such a flatterer,” he mumbles in return. “But I must admit,” he continues, winking, “you don’t look half bad yourself.”
“I try.”
“Please,” Kyungsoo says, rolling his eyes and finally stepping away from Junmyeon. “All you have to do is stand and look pretty to have anyone you want tripping over their feet and falling head over heels.”
What if I want you, Junmyeon wants to say. Would you fall for me too? he wants to ask, but he’s never been the one whose good with words, not when he’s around Kyungsoo, so for the umpteenth time, he watches Kyungsoo slip out the door with rushed steps.
but even when the whole world desires you
Their orchestra does consist of noticeably young players, and while they aren’t always at their best, they put up an exceptionally entrancing performance that night. Debussy’s ‘La Mer’ and Ravel’s ‘La Valse’ is played in the first half of the show. The performance is big and bold, grand, and the audience watches, amazed, as their conductor goes in for grand gestures, rich sonorities and intense colors.
These are the moments Junmyeon lives for; he lives to be a part of something this beautiful.
Being able to do what he loves in a room full of others who appreciate music is a feeling he can never quite explain verbally. And having Kyungsoo in the hall makes it all the more special. Kyungsoo plays as the program’s powerhouse conclusion; he plays with large theatrical gestures. His performance is cinematic, picture perfect, and the melodies are drawn out to full sob potential.
Kyungsoo doesn’t see himself as anyone special. He doesn’t see himself as someone who would have the potential to shine amidst a sea of people but Junmyeon sees it all too clearly. And it’s all he can think about as he accompanies Kyungsoo’s concerto with his violin: Kyungsoo is the one playing centre-stage while Junmyeon is hidden amongst a small wave of violinists, seated far away from Kyungsoo. The younger boy shines so brightly that it’s painful.
Kyungsoo’s shining, shining and shining, and Junmyeon’s the one who’s burning from the heat.
you are still here right next to me
After the concert, the first thing Kyungsoo does as Junmyeon approaches him is throw himself onto Junmyeon, wrapping his arms around the slightly older man. Junmyeon lets out a surprised laugh and brings his arms up to wrap them around Kyungsoo. The next thing he does, when they pull apart, is grab onto Junmyeon’s crooked tie and pull him downwards, crashing their mouths together.
Kyungsoo pulls back instantly, fearfully, pushing Junmyeon away with a grin fueled entirely with adrenaline. “I’ve wanted to do that,” he says. He doesn’t sound regretful at all. “For a few years now.”
“I-” Junmyeon starts and falters. He’s too surprised to react. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say or how to respond. He could say so many things here: he could tell Kyungsoo about all the thoughts that are bottled within him, growing and growing over the years. He could tell Kyungsoo about that time he almost-
“That was nice, yes,” is the first thing Junmyeon manages to say instead.
“We should do it again, then,” Kyungsoo says.
“I want to say something first,” Junmyeon says. Kyungsoo is giving him a second chance and he desperately wants things to work out. He’s been carrying his empty sheet of few accomplishments and too many regrets for a very long time now, doodling Kyungsoo’s name by the margins every once in a while.
“I am sorry,” he says. “I am sorry for being a complete douche bag two years ago and even two months ago, when we met. I was scared and I’ve been running away for so long but you’re still just as kind and mesmerizing and-oh god. I am so sorry, Kyungsoo-”
The pointed look Kyungsoo gives Junmyeon shuts him up effectively.
“I just-” Junmyeon tries again. “I just want you to know that I am sorry. For everything.”
“I know, I know,” Kyungsoo says with a scoff, stepping closer. He rolls his eyes too, but there’s no bite in his actions. “It’s okay.”
and it is so easy
don’t miss my handsome face too much while you’re presenting
“Honestly," Kyungsoo huffs, looking up from his phone and facing the cheeky grin Junmyeon is throwing his way. He glares back and Junmyeon’s grin broadens further. He’s almost glad that he hadn’t read the message before his last presentation as an undergraduate. Almost. "You, Kim Junmyeon, are the most arrogant bastard I've ever had the misfortune of meeting.”
"And yet you’re still here, next to me."
"Oh, shut up."
it’s so easy
to fall in love with you
all over again