'Til I hear you sing
Title: 'Til I hear you sing
Author: shigai
Pairing: YunJae
Genre: AU, romance
Length: oneshot
Rating: pg-13
Warning: some technical words, but nothing too annoying ;)
Word count: 12.315
He’s been wandering the beautiful streets of Vienna for the whole morning, taking pictures and visiting every highlighted touristic place. It’s early afternoon, he’s kind of hungry and sweaty since it’s really warm under the sun. Clearly, he is still not used to this weather, even if back at home summers are way worse thanks to the horrible high humidity level.
Grabbing his pocket travel guide from inside his messenger bag to try and find some restaurant close to where he is right now, he walks until he finds shelter from the sun under the shadow produced by the high dome of the church he has right in front; Peterskirche, according to his guide. Mesmerized by the detailed baroque architecture of its walls, he forgets all about the guide and the restaurants and the hunger, and walks towards the building entrance, gaze fixed at the huge turquoise dome.
Vienna is such a magnificent city full of surprises alike this church, raised in such a compact space right in the middle of small streets, almost hidden by all the refined and classy buildings around it.
And why is Kim Jaejoong (natural from Gongju city, south korean, twenty-three years old) in Austria?. Well, since he was six years old, or even before, he’s shown a special attitude and ability for music, and since he was seven he’s been learning different instruments such as cello, violin and piano. His real childhood dream is to be a singer, but he knows he doesn’t have what it takes to make it.
He’s been almost two months already studying at the Mozarteum, the prestigious music university at Salzburg, Austria, improving his already good piano skills, favoring it over the other instruments he also played. It was pretty difficult to get a place for this two courses (one semester each), having to pass favorably so many evaluations: ‘highest level of technical proficiency and instrumental command; period and stylistic understanding of performed compositions; extensive and comprehensive repertoire’ blah blah blah. But it felt damn awesome when he was admitted after a successful audition already in Salzburg, in front of the Mozarteum committee of professional musicians, who praised his ‘superior level of quality, development, and artistic expression’.
All in all, classes are really demanding, so Jaejoong decided to travel to Vienna for the weekend, a city that always appealed to him, being the world’s capital of classical music, and relax on his own for a couple of days.
As soon as he steps inside the church a cool, calm and wonderful atmosphere envelopes him. There’s nobody else inside the small space, and the light of day enters softly through the high round windows giving the whole interior a warm feeling. He’s filled with a strong sense of relax, of peace. Marveling on the golden details of the columns and the ornamented walls and ceilings, he steps slowly to the center of the round building, gaze wandering around the high walls and the impressive vault, the noise of his steps echoing on the empty space. He hears someone moving somewhere, but doesn’t mind that much that there’s another person enjoying this peaceful tranquility the church offers. In fact, everybody should be enjoying such a feeling, he thinks.
His heart almost jumps out of his mouth when suddenly the organ starts playing. He turns and sees someone up there on the second floor playing it, but the high banister makes it impossible to distinguish anything beyond the back of a person sitting in front of the piped instrument.
Recovering from the scare, breathing deeply, he listens to the amazing sound produced by the organ in the perfect acoustics of this oval church. The young korean walks to the first row of benches, sits down, closes his eyes, and gets lost inside his mind enjoying the gift of such a wonderful sound in such a wonderful place. Moments like this are the ones which remind him the great choice he made when he applied to come to study in Austria.
He’s lost track of time when he recognizes one of the pieces being played. An organ version of Mon coeur s'ouvre a ta voix, from Camille Saint-Saëns’s opera Samson et Dalila. It sounds a little weird, the powerful and loud instrument playing such a delicate love song, but it’s a good kind of weird, since it sounds wonderful and entrancing nonetheless.
Before he notices it, Jaejoong is humming along, doing the intricate melodies the mezzo-soprano should be singing. When the second verse arrives, he can’t stop himself from singing it in a loud voice, too immersed in the music enveloping him.
He knows he doesn’t have the range of a mezzo-soprano. He knows he can barely call himself a singer, but he loves to sing, and he can hit the notes, and well, there is nobody else here except for the organ player who probably won’t even hear him. Plus, the acoustics of the church are wonderful, and his soul feels like this is a one chance in life, and he simply does. He simply raises his voice and sings;
Ah! réponds à ma tendresse!
Verse-moi, verse-moi l'ivresse!
It feels extraordinary. His voice sounds powerful, almost ethereal, and he surprises himself with it. The organ keeps playing the end of the song, and he smiles to himself: mission accomplished. Almost laughing, feeling high and mighty, he stands up and walks towards the door decided to continue his lunch search. The song arrives at an end as soon as he is walking right under the organ, and before he can take a new step, he hears someone clearing his throat.
“That was pretty good,” a low male voice echoes in accented german in the emptiness of the building. Jaejoong feels his stomach twist, and like dying in shame. He’s been busted!
“Ah... sorry, I-” Jaejoong answers, his few german words abandoning him with the nerves.
“Sorry? Why apologizing? Talent isn’t something to apology for,” the voice answers in english. Jaejoong chuckles.
“Thank you, I suppose. For the language change too,” he is blushing, he knows, and he is really glad the organ player (because he knows the one talking can only be him since there’s nobody else) is upstairs and can’t see him.
“Are you a professional?”
“What? Singing? No way!” he laughs shyly.
“Why not? You should,” Jaejoong swallows.
“Yeah, well... I’m a piano student, so...,”
“That doesn’t mean you cannot sing professionally,”
“Ah well, thanks? Emm, I should be going now, it was really nice of you to-” too ashamed, Jaejoong only wants to run away from the place.
“What’s your name?”
“...No offense, but my name is not important here” Jaejoong hears the other man chuckle, and it sounds nice and welcoming, calming his nervous system a little. He hears some steps upstairs, so he walks backwards looking up, until he sees the man close to the banister. Sun light is entering strongly from the window right behind the huge instrument, so it’s practically impossible to recognize a face in the back light. Plus, that light is hitting him right on the face, blinding him partly.
There are a couple of silent seconds where he tries to gain some vision, while hearing the other man inhale deeply.
“I would really appreciate knowing your name,” Jaejoong can recognize some shapes now. A full mouth, a straight nose, a powerful chin. The organ player looks tall but thin and young.
“... Jaejoong.”
“Oh? Korean?”
“Yeah?”
“Funny,” the organ player answers in perfect korean. After the initial surprise, Jaejoong laughs.
“What are the odds,” he shakes his head.
“Yes, what are them... do you study here in Vienna, Jaejoong-shi?”
“Eh, no, I’m a Mozarteum student in Salzburg” he knows he sounds proud, but damn if he isn’t. Most prestigious music university in the world, and he is part of it. The organ player bursts in laughter. A high, warm and rich laughter. “What??”
“Nothing, just... the odds are really funny,”
“What?”
“Look, I need to go now, lot of things to do. It was a pleasure to meet you, Jaejoong-shi.” the organ player bows, and steps backwards.
“Wait!” Jaejoong is surprised at his own demand, but on the other hand it’s not that weird, he thinks. Finding a korean youth who plays music in Vienna was not impossible, but not ‘normal’ either. “Want to go grab some lunch with me?”
“... straightforward, aren’t we?” Jaejoong blushes when he hears the other man chuckle. “I would love to, but I really have a lot of things to do. I’m sure there will be a next time someday, Jaejoong-shi,” another bow, more steps away.
“At least tell me your name? So I can... dunno, maybe ask-”
“Yunho. Jung Yunho”.
Before Jaejoong can tell anything else, there’s the echoing of shoes and the noise of a heavy door opening and closing. He’s stunned into silence for a while, not sure what to do or think. In the end, he just shrugs, smiles, and walks out of the church.
Vienna’s melting summer sun receives him, and he’s almost tempted to walk back into the church. Almost.
Shaking his head and smiling to himself, he walks down the street, guide back in his hand, decided to have an awesome (and cheap) lunch.
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
A hand slaps his shoulder, and he stirs awake.
“Wake up, idiot!” Jaejoong turns and finds a class-mate frowning at him.
“Sorry”.
Slapping his cheeks lightly a couple of times, he tries hard to stay awake. He’s been really tired lately, the stress of the classes and practices getting to him. It’s almost an impossible mission to stay awake in the middle of the chamber music class, when companions are performing a really relaxing Schubert piece which his brain is too asleep to recognize. He’s sure he knows it, it’s familiar; he just can’t put his finger on it.
Still, even if he’s deadly tired, it’s too rude to fall asleep during a fellow musician performance, so he scolds himself internally and puts the whole of his attention on the way those skillful students’ fingers dance over strings, all in perfect harmony and supreme technique. Couldn't be any other way: the Mozarteum only accepts the best of the best.
The piece finishes, and the few other students applaud. The professor gets up from his sitting place and walks towards the performers, face rigid and serious attitude; Jaejoong is sure he didn’t think the piece was executed as perfectly as it was supposed to. He thinks he could get away with yawning now that everybody’s attention is at the teacher’s words, but a sudden knock on the door cuts his attempt from root.
“Yes?” the professor answers.
“It’s me, professor; could you walk out for a second?” a man’s voice answers from behind the door.
“Oh, of course.” the old german man walks towards the door, assuring the students he’ll be back soon.
As soon as the man is out, Jaejoong yawns widely. Blinking away the tears born in his eyes from such a good yawn, he turns to his companions who he’s sure are going to scold him for being so ‘lazy and disrespectful’.
“Think it was him?” a short haired japanese girl is asking a red-haired british boy. Jaejoong is really glad of the rich variety of ethnics in the university, since this way everything was talked and taught in english, a language he can defend himself on pretty well.
“Who knows? But surely, no one else can make a professor walk out of a lesson like that except for him” the british boy answers.
“Him?” Jaejoong, being the curious man he’s always been, can’t stop himself from asking.
“You know, ‘the Phantom of the opera’” A brunette italian girl answers, and they all laugh. Some even start humming the famous tune from the british worldwide known musical.
“Whaat?” Jaejoong looks at them as if they’ve lost their minds. Actually, he quite believes it.
“It’s just a joke! You see, there’s this student guy who nobody has ever seen, who seems to be a musical genius or something like that since all teachers in the university practically worship him,” the italian girl proceeds to explain.
“Huh? Is there someone like that here?” the young korean pianist asks skeptically.
“Yeah!” the short japanese girl answers smiling, excited with the gossip.
“... and nobody has ever seen him?” Jaejoong insists.
“That’s why everybody calls him ‘the phantom’” the italian brunette adds, doing the quote sign with his fingers.
“... so what, is he deformed or something?”
“Nobody has seen him, Jayjoong, nobody. How do we know?” the british boy interferes, having some difficulties in pronouncing the korean name correctly.
“Well, someone has; the teachers sure have seen him, right?” Jaejoong smirks when the others look at him silently. “Ha, checkmate!”
“Whatever man. But really, he attends no classes, and no student has seen him anywhere. He’s such a mystery,” the japanese girl smiles again, sighing as if reading a romance novel, and Jaejoong rolls his eyes.
“Well, you don’t have a lack of imagination, that’s for sure,” he adds, and before anyone can retort, the teacher walks back in with papers in his hand.
“We have some new scores I would like to try. Are you up to it?” they all agree instantly, and Jaejoong can feel the excitement in the air.
“What’s happening?” he whispers to the girl next to him.
“New scores, from the phantom!” she smiles cheekily.
No more is said. The teacher hands out a set of study scores to each of them, and gives some long minutes for them to read the scores. There are some sighs and low surprised sounds as the time passes, and he actually can understand the reason. The score he has in his hands is amazing. Every note seems to be in its perfect place, every breathe mark, every marcato, every scale. His fingers are itching while he devours the piano part with his eyes, anxious to play it, to taste it.
“Ok, should we try a first approach?” the teacher asks, and all the students nod.
The rest of the class passes in a breathe for Jaejoong. He doesn’t feel tired anymore, as soon as the score comes to life in the room. When he finally gets his chance to play the piano part, he feels as if that was the exact reason why he decided to study music. As if that piece was the reason of all reasons.
In a daze, he walks back to his rented room close to the University’s main building at the Mirabellplatz. His mind filled with music, his fingers moving on his own. Whoever that phantom is, he makes the most wonderful music he’s heard in ages. Jaejoong vows to himself to meet the composer, and thank him. No matter how much it takes for it.
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
For weeks he cannot take the haunting melody out of his head. He finds himself humming it on the halls of the university between classes, playing it on every available piano or violin, singing it when he's sure he is alone. He’s been asking around for tips about the composer, having to refer him as the phantom even if he finds it silly or insulting, but there’s no other way the rest of students know who he’s talking about without that nickname.
No need to say, there’s been no luck at all.
He’s heard more things about him, though. How he is a young man around his twenties, like him, who came to study at the Mozarteum a couple of years ago for supposedly one semester only, but has so much talent the teachers begged for him to stay and even paid for every needed scholarship, sponsored him, helped him selling his works, etc. How supposedly he is an awesome orchestra conductor, but he haven’t directed anything anywhere. How nobody knows why he hides the way he does, and the few teachers who know keep the secret fiercely.
To say Jaejoong is dying with mad curiosity is an understatement.
He is currently playing the piano at an empty class, totally absorbed in sounds and rhythms and melodies, when he finds he’s morphed a Nocturne from Chopin into the Phantom’s piece. And, the most surprising thing is he doesn’t mind the change.
He plays with more intensity now. It’s weird, but there’s something about this melody that’s enchanting, making him feel warm and accomplished. Music is surrounding him, caressing him. His fingers drawing wonderful patterns over the hard keys of the piano. Soon, the melody is too grand for only his fingers, and he finds himself humming it. Louder. Louder. He needs to sing this, he really needs to, but there are no lyrics, no words, no story. He makes a sudden stop, frustrated.
“This needs lyrics so badly...,” he murmurs.
“Would you sing it if it had lyrics?” startled, Jaejoong turns towards the door. A tall man is leaning there, all dressed in black stylish clothes, with some kind of fedora hat low on his face, and big designer sunglasses covering more than half of the rest, making it practically impossible to see anything from the face apart from the nose and the lips.
“Sorry? Ah! Did you talk in korean just now??” too immersed in his world, he didn’t notice the language used. The tall man chuckles, stands apart from the door and takes a couple of steps towards the pianist.
“Of course I did. Why so surprised? You’ve already talked to me in korean before.”
“eh? when...,” and then it hits him, the tall stylish figure, the young korean man with full lips and strong chin from Vienna “Jung Yunho-shi?” the other smiles a tight lip smile and nods.
“What are the odds, huh?” Yunho says, making Jaejoong laugh surprised by the coincidence.
“You study here?” the pianist asks.
“Kind of,” the taller man shrugs “Answer me, would you sing that song if it had lyrics?”
“What do you have with me and singing? We’ve only meet two times, but the topic barely change.”
“Well, you have a wonderful voice, that’s all,” Jaejoong blushes a little, and chuckles awkwardly.
“well... thank you? Even if I doubt you’ve really heard me, with the organ noise playing and all...,”
“I’ve heard. And now, too.” even under the sunglasses, Jaejoong can feel the other’s eyes looking at him.
“... I don’t know what to say,” Yunho laughs “Really”.
“Sorry, we are practically strangers, and here I am harassing you. I apologize,” the black dressed man bows deeply. Jaejoong scratches his arm, nervous.
“No need to be so polite...,” Yunho stands up again, smiling. Jaejoong watches how perfect his smile is, the beautiful shape the lips draw around the straight, perfect, white teeth. How it seems to brighten the whole hidden face. “answering your question...,”
“Hmm?”
“It’s a beautiful melody, so everybody would love to sing it, yes. Still, it doesn’t matter, it has no lyrics and that’s what there is.” Jaejoong crosses his arms and nods solemnly, making the taller man chuckle. It makes him feel good, somehow.
“But that can be fixed,” Yunho crosses his arms too, imitating Jaejoong. “We can add the lyrics we want.”
“Whaaat? No!! You cannot modify somebody else’s work like that, that’s like... dunno, dying someone else’s hair some horrendous color like moss green without consent!”
“... that is a really interesting example,” Yunho chuckles. Jaejoong wishes to die. “But who said we would modify somebody else’s work?”
It takes two seconds to understand it, but Jaejoong finds himself inhaling sharply once he does.
“You wrote that?? You?”
“Yes I did,”
“You are the ph-,” Jaejoong covers his mouth instantly, and wants to die for the second time in less than one minute.
“Yes, I am the phantom,” Yunho smiles kind of sadly, and Jaejoong hates himself.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...,”
“It’s ok, that’s how everybody calls me, right?”
“Well, I don’t get why! You could just show yourself the way you do with me and they would stop. Actually, if you take that hat awa-” As soon as Jaejoong takes a step towards Yunho, hand reaching towards the fedora, Yunho takes two hurried steps back, practically jumping. Jaejoong stands there dumbfounded.
“I should be leaving now. I’ll think on the lyrics thing. Thanks for your time, Jaejoong-shi.”
And just like that, Yunho disappears, closing the door hurriedly behind himself.
The way he reacted, the way Yunho practically ran away from him... Jaejoong thinks maybe he understands a little more the reasons behind Yunho’s nickname.
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
It’s a really warm and clammy day when Jaejoong meets Yunho again.
The black haired man is sitting at the piano bench, playing Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No.8 In C Minor Op.13 (Pathetique), slow, heavy, deep. The melancholic, bittersweet sound of Beethoven’s piece comes sadder than it should be when played by Yunho’s fingers, but still, it’s beautiful and entrancing to the point where Jaejoong finds himself unable to move.
He can only see the other’s back side, how his shoulders and arms dance at the rhythm his fingers dictate. It’s stunning. Yunho’s shape, Yunho’s music, Yunho’s aura; it’s stunning.
The song diminishes in soft stacattos, and Jaejoong finds himself releasing a breath once Yunho’s hands get away from the keys, signaling the end of the piece. The taller man tenses visibly.
“Who’s there?” Yunho asks, not turning.
“Oh, hey, sorry, it’s me, Kim Jaejoong,” he smiles awkwardly “Sorry, I was just passing by and heard you play and.... well, you are... amazing,” he confesses in awe. Yunho chuckles.
“Thanks,” Jaejoong notices that even if the other’s voice sounds relaxed, his limbs are far from it. His pose is wary, as if ready to run away. And he is still not turning.
“emm... you made a sad Beethoven though,” Jaejoong starts walking forward “that piece is supposed to be bittersw-”
“Stay where you are!” Yunho practically roars.
“W-what?” Jaejoong is astonished, an incredulous smile on his lips.
“Don’t come any closer,” the taller man sounds menacing, but nervous at the same time.
“Dude, what the hell? I don’t get you!” and he really doesn’t. Yunho sounds friendly one time, then he’s all furtive the next. What is he playing at?
“Sorry but... just...,” Yunho stands up, runs his hands through his fringe seemingly combing it downwards fast and angry, and with his head facing down and almost completely turned away from the place where Jaejoong is standing he walks towards the door, stops to grab something and walks out of the piano room, not uttering another word.
“T-the hell!?” Jaejoong steps out of the room in a hurry “Why are you walking away like that? What’s your problem??” he is angry, or more like offended. Yunho stops walking, but doesn’t turn around.
“Sorry, I don’t like whe-”
“Turn to look at my face when you talk to me!” for a second he thinks he is overreacting, but then again, Yunho was being beyond rude and weird, and he was pissed.
“I can’t!”
“The fu-”
“I don’t want you to look at my face! I don’t want anybody looking at my face.” the last part is said with such a painful tone that all the anger leaves Jaejoong completely.
“What? Why?”
“... that’s something I don’t like to talk about. Can you please respect that?” Yunho opens the small messenger bag that Jaejoong hadn’t even noticed before, grabs what seems a black beanie and puts it on, really low on his head.
“Yes. Yes, I’m sorry for prying,” a strong sense of guilt washes over Jaejoong. He can’t imagine what kind of reasons someone could have to not wanting to show their faces, but it seems something touchy and painful for the other.
“Don’t worry. I’m leaving now.”
“Ah! wait!!” Jaejoong takes a step forward, but stops instantly, not wanting to make the other uncomfortable. Yunho stops, but doesn’t say anything. “Can I have your phone number?”
“W-what?” Yunho sounds incredulous. Probably it’s not a really normal situation to ask for a phone number, but Jaejoong doesn’t care.
“Your phone number. This way we can talk or text or use whatsapp or whatever.”
“Why. Why would you want to-” still sounds incredulous. Jaejoong chuckles.
“You’re interesting. You compose wonderful pieces and are a talented performer too. Plus, the only korean I’ve met around! C’mon. By phone I won’t see your face?” Jaejoong tells it as a joke, and sighs in relief when the other chuckles.
“You’re weird,”
“I’ve been told,” Jaejoong shrugs. “So?”
“... give me your phone.”
Jaejoong takes his white iPhone out of his bag, with its wonderful vintage brown cassette cover and a triumphant smile. Yunho asks him to close his eyes, and frowning he does. Steps start getting closer, he feels someone grabbing his phone from his hand. Yunho’s voice sounds close and warm when he asks him not to peek, and it would be so easy, so easy to just open an eye and look at the other’s face. And he is so so curious about all this. But it really seems as something big for the taller man, and Jaejoong doesn’t want to upset him. Somehow, he can’t even dare to.
Some seconds later, where he’s been enjoying the weird warm feeling of Yunho’s presence close to him, he hears a ring tone, an mp3. He chuckles.
“Seriously?” he is more than amused recognizing Ramin Karimloo’s take on the Phantom of the Opera role singing Music of the Night. Yunho breathes a small laugh.
“Isn’t it perfect?” he says with a smiling voice. Jaejoong laughs, pleasantly surprised by Yunho’s good humor on his own nickname.
“It’s great, yeah,”
“If I was a good singer, I would totally audition for the role,” Jaejoong laughs again, at ease with the other’s sense of humor “Ok, ready. Here.” he feels the other putting his phone back in his hand, and he grabs it. “You can open your eyes now”.
When he does, he only sees Yunho’s back, walking away from him, waving. He smiles and checks his phone, expecting the new entry with a funny name, something along the lines of phantoms, eriks, opera ghosts, etc. He finds a simple Yunho, nothing else. His smile widens. Somehow, it feels even better to have it just like that.
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
Autumn arrived fast, and days are colder.
Jaejoong and Yunho have been giving their phones a lot of usage. Calls and texts and whatsapp messages and kakao’s ones. It’s weird how close they’ve become; friends, even, when they practically don’t meet in person at all. Yunho keeps on hiding, and it’s beyond annoying for the shorter pianist. He repeats to himself once and again that he has to respect the other, that there must be a big reason for such a behavior.
But every time he hears someone mocking the phantom, or every time he subtly asks for the taller man to meet him and faces rejection, he feels his blood boiling.
Still, he keeps on respecting it the best he can. Yunho is an amazing person, and he doesn’t want to lose that, even if it’s only in smartphone way.
Today Jaejoong has wandered around the streets of Salzburg, ending his stroll at one of his favorite places of the city: the terrace of the Sacher hotel, overlooking the stunning views of the Salzach river with the towers of the Salzburg cathedral in the back, and the Hohensalzburg Fortress dominating the whole city from the top of the mountain. With a warm tea on his table, enjoying the last warm days of the year while reading a good book, Jaejoong feels lucky. He is in such a beautiful city, studying what he loves the most in the most prestigious place of the world, getting to know awesome people and the most admirable professional musicians... he sighs. He would love to bring his family here someday and share the joy of this magical city with them, this way he wouldn’t feel so lonely.
His phone beeps on the table and unlocking the screen he sees he has a whatsapp message. Smiling, sure of knowing from who he is, he reads it.
‘How are you liking your free afternoon?’
Chuckling, he answers with an ‘Hmph, dunno, I think I’m masochist because I’m missing my tyrant teacher’. He knows the answer will come soon, so the book he was reading is left forgotten on the table for the sake of writing faster responses.
His tyrant teacher: Yunho. Yes, lately Yunho has been helping him with singing. It took a long time until Jaejoong accepted, reticent thinking his voice wasn’t worth it and other stuff like that, but Yunho insisted and flattered and well, here they are. Lessons are weird, since he doesn’t have the teacher there per se. Classes consist on written lessons and exercises by mail, plus recordings as evaluations. All in all, Jaejoong finds it really entertaining; easy, since he doesn’t have to face anyone while he practices or records. And surprisingly, it’s giving results. He has a wider range now, a more stable control of his vibrato, a better technique in his breathing.
And all thanks to that obstinate composer.
“Ah, Entschuldigung?” a voice interrupts his whatsapping time, and he looks up to see a young, tall, thin, extremely handsome man.
“eh?” is his smart answer.
“sind Sie ein Student aus dem Mozarteum?”
“ah, ja... sorry, mein Deutsch wirklich schlecht...?” he smiles shamefully, and the other man laughs.
“Sorry sorry, obviously you’re not austrian,” the extremely handsome man with an extremely handsome smile says.
“Ah well, been here for a while, I should have learned already,” Jaejoong scratches his head bashfully. “Can I help you?”
“Yes yes, you study at the Mozarteum, right?”
“Yeah. How can I... wait, how do you know?”
“I’ve seen you there,” the austrian man smiles, seductively, Jaejoong notices. He blushes a little, against his own will. “I study there too.”
“Oh,” is his second smart answer of the day.
“I’m Mathias von Hohenberg, violin player,” the now known as Mathias inclines his head in a gentlemanly bow of the head.
“Kim Jaejoong, piano player,” Jaejoong smiles and bows too, in a more asian style.
“Jaejoong,” the way he says it and the way he looks at him makes Jaejoong shiver, not entirely sure if it’s pleasant or not. “Well, see you around the university. Enjoy the rest of your day.” and with the grace of an ancient european prince, the tall, handsome and graceful Mathias walks away, crossing the Markartsteg bridge until Jaejoong can follow his shape no more.
His heart is kind of beating fast. It’s not everyday that a beyond handsome european boy flirts with you, because it was clear as light that there had been some serious flirting going towards his persona. He smiles; it feels good to be flattered randomly like that.
His iPhone beeps again. Unlocking it in a rush, biting his lip, he sees a couple of unread whatsapp messages, last one he just received being:
‘Did you fall asleep on me?’
Somehow he feels bad. Somehow, he feels guilty.
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
Yunho has been sending him mails with lyrics for the perfect song he composed.
They are sad and emotive and absolutely gorgeous. Jaejoong finds himself singing them every chance he gets, every time he is alone. He even records himself singing it while accompanying himself at the piano, and sends it to Yunho in a strange case of confidence in his voice.
The speechless call he receives long minutes later, with a flustered Yunho who runs out of praising words for him makes everything worth it.
He’s having weird feelings about all this business with Yunho. It’s like, he is absurdly fascinated by him. He has heard more pieces composed by the elusive korean, and each of them has made him feel things, deep emotions running through his system, almost moving him to tears.
He is fascinated by his music, and by his mysterious persona. Why does he hide like that? Why is he so scared of showing his face? His body looks perfectly fine. More than fine, actually. Jaejoong can’t avoid thinking how physically perfect the taller man is when he has a chance to see him walking away, or hiding behind hats and huge designer shades. What secrets is he hiding behind those accessories?
And his music, so sad, so broken. Is his soul like that? Does he write what he feels? Jaejoong wants to know, needs to know. He is practically sure he is developing a monumental crush on Yunho, and it annoys him the way he doesn’t even know how the other looks, or if and why he is suffering for it.
He wants to help.
On the other hand, Mathias, the perfect gentleman, has been showing himself around more often than not. His intentions are really clear, and everybody in their circle of acquaintances (and beyond too) knows how the austrian prince worships the ground Jaejoong steps on. And really, he is not exaggerating. All in all, Jaejoong feels at ease with him. Always trying to keep a wall between them so Mathias sees he has no chance, but still enjoying his friendship. It’s weird, but it works somehow, and he’s found a companion for wonderful piano and violin duos. Mathias is not only a gentleman, but an awesome violin player too.
Ok, he cannot deny it gives him some kind of satisfaction when all the rest of students stare at them with envy. Yes, the university’s ‘charming prince’ is all after him. Don’t deny it, that would make anyone feel good. And it has a plus.
Yunho seems jealous too.
At the beginning it wasn’t noticeable, but lately he asks at every call and every message if Mathias is around, and he doesn’t sound very pleased when the answer is affirmative. It’s mean, but it makes Jaejoong’s heart feel some hope, even if he doesn’t know hope for what exactly. For a closer friendship? For the taller man to have a crush on him too? For something bigger?
On the other hand, Mathias seems to not appreciate this calls from the phantom at all. In this case Jaejoong is completely sure, the blond austrian is jealous. And in this case Jaejoong doesn’t really enjoy it. He tells himself he has to talk with his friend soon, and draw a clear line.
And this is how days pass. Playing this wicked game of crushes and jealousy, improving beyond belief his piano skills, and mastering his voice in singing. His range is wide now; Yunho told him he can hit a C5 easily, and then named him a tenor. It feels good to hear a genius like Yunho praising his voice.
With such a busy life, it’s almost a surprise when he finds snow on the streets. Winter is here.
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
There’s a big ruckus at the university, and it’s pretty understandable. An official request has arrived from Vienna, asking for Jung Yunho to play the organ and the piano at the Musikvereinhaus main hall, in a Christmas event where works from the likes of Bach, Handel and Mozart will be played.
Jaejoong only needs two seconds after knowing the news before he calls his tutor.
“You are amazing!!” is the first thing he yells when Yunho answers the phone.
“I know,” Yunho chuckles, and Jaejoong’s toes curl “but why exactly, may I know?”
“The Christmas concert!!”
“Oh, right. Thank you,” he doesn’t sound that excited, but Jaejoong knows better now. Yunho can be really reserved when it comes to his works, and never likes to exalt the praising he deserves.
“I am so going to see it. Can you get me tickets?”
“Actually... I have other plans for you to be there,”
“Ok, I am officially scared,” Jaejoong mutters; Yunho chuckles.
“You should. I just requested for you to be in it too,”
“Huh??” Jaejoong’s heart stops beating, he’s sure of it “b-but, you’ll already be there playing the piano!”
“I never said I wanted you there as a pianist,”
“... Yunho, what did you do...,”
“Would you sing there, Jaejoong?”
“WHAT?? Are yo- what?? Are you mental??” hysteria overtakes him “I am, NOT, in no way!! I can’t!! What made you think I could??”
“You can. You have a wonderful voice, and a pretty impressive technique by now,” Yunho sounds so calm it makes Jaejoong go more hysteric. As nonsensical as that is.
“Impressive my ass! No way, I won’t go through that!! I am a piano player, PIANO!!”
“But you long to sing, don’t you?” Jaejoong is rendered speechless, and somehow feels completely sad, in the verge of tears even.
“... what the fuck do you know,” and he hangs up.
He walks in a hurry towards his room and throws himself on the bed once he reaches it. He is mad, nervous, upset, hysteric, sad, deceived, and full of hope. He is going completely nuts inside. His iPhone keeps ringing and ringing, the annoying mainstream pop tune getting on his nerves. Wanting to throw it to the furthest corner of the room, he ends up answering the call, blaming his body for not doing what his mind commanded.
“Jaejoong...,”
“...,” he doesn’t feel like talking. He doesn’t know which one of all the emotions filling him will come out first.
“... I’m sorry.” and it’s the first time Yunho has apologized like that, with such a whisper, sad and guilty.
“Why did you do it?” he whispers back, tiredly.
“Because your voice is astounding. You don’t believe it, but it is. Do you think I would put you on the list for such an event if you weren’t?”
“... but I’m not ready,”
“You are. You will. I’ll rehearse with you day after day. And you will only sing one aria, not the whole concert.”
“...,” Jaejoong sits up, and looks at his free hand, resting on his leg. What to do, this is his dream at the palm of his hand, what to do... “Ok. But you’re going to help me in everything.”
“Of course I will!” Now Yunho sounds excited.
“And you’ll rehearse with me in person,”
“... Jaejoong, you know I don’t want to be se-”
“I give a damn. You’re making me go through this hell, the least you can do is be there with me physically,” he’s not sure where the strength to demand such a thing comes from, but he likes it.
“Deal,” Yunho answers after long silent seconds. “See you tomorrow at the piano room.”
“O-ok!” all his hysteria gone as soon as Yunho agrees to meet him in person.
“... thanks for agreeing.” Yunho hangs up.
And Jaejoong’s heart does somersaults.
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
Covering half of his face, Yunho appears; a pair of huge Louis Vuitton sunglasses on, ‘Possession Pilot’ black ones. Jaejoong sighs, disappointed even if he was already expecting something like that, but then he looks again and notices a lack of a hat/beanie/you-name-it accessory covering Yunho’s head, and how the composer’s hair is black and shining and styled to perfection. Also, he is dressed to kill: an Armani Exchange straight fit and wide loose drape neckline placket polo in black that leaves no room for imagination about his collarbones and long, long sexy neck; black twill blazer from the same mentioned brand in his hand; a pair of dark midnight washed out skinny leg denim’s, from Gucci judging by the green/red/green signature on the coin pocket. To complete it all, a pair of Nero calf leather boots by Bottega Veneta.
Jaejoong swoons; right in front of him there’s the epitome of style, good taste and sexiness. And except for the totality of his eyes, eyebrows and half of his cheeks, he can see all of Yunho’s face, and seriously, there’s nothing he doesn’t like. Nothing.
“Big shades,” it’s the only thing he manages to say without squealing.
“I’m here in person, let me at least cover enough to feel confident,” the ‘epitome of sexiness’ also known as Yunho, answers.
“How can you not feel confident? Being like that?” the pianist mutters the last part.
“What did you say?” Jaejoong breathes once he’s sure the other didn’t catch him.
“I said, what am I singing?” he walks towards the piano and sits on the bench, turning to face the taller man, who’s hanging his jacket on the back of a chair.
“Oh, yeah. Here,” a couple of long strides from the composer, and Jaejoong swears every bad word he knows in his head at the unfairness of the world: the epitome of sexiness also smells so good. Praying for his mind to act normal, he checks the full score being offered to him.
“... Verdi? Am I going to sing in italian??” frowning, he looks up at Yunho, who’s smirking.
“No, in Latin! Exciting, I know,” Yunho shrugs, takes the scores from Jaejoong’s hands and starts passing the sheets, checking the scores.
“... you’re really a tyrant.”
“I’m mostly called a sadistic, but that could work too,” Yunho smirks again, and Jaejoong blushes. Probably he shouldn’t, probably it was a well intended joke with no second meaning, but, well, his mind seems to be down in the gutter. At least in front of such a stud. “C’mon, let’s begin”.
He’s going to be singing Ingemisco, from Verdi’s Messa da Requiem. It’s an aria from the Dies Irae section of the piece, written for the voice of a tenor. Jaejoong is beyond scared; the song starts practically a capella, and for around four minutes it follows a journey of sweet decrescendos and powerful crescendos, a song of extreme dynamics and a solemn, almost sad tone. It’s an extremely beautiful piece, but he’s really not sure he can perform it successfully.
Of course Yunho thinks otherwise, and a personal torture of exhausting rehearsals begins. He doesn’t complain, though; every new rehearsal, Yunho appears stunning and dressed to the nines. Sunglasses never leave the outfit, but still, there’s nothing to complain. Nothing at all.
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
Christmas morning, he’s walking nervously around the snowed Ringstrasse. Luxurious Vienna looks even more beautiful dressed in white and colored with Christmas lights and decorations, and he wishes he wouldn’t be as nervous as he is so he could enjoy it more.
He has the song mastered, he knows it. Every breath, every accent, every damn passagio. Yunho has praised him endlessly, always reminding him he does it perfectly and has nothing to fear. Still, he feels like throwing up, possibly more than once.
His sadistic tutor is gone now to fix some stuff for the night’s performance, leaving him behind with some ‘relax by now’ words of advice that clearly he cannot follow. He’s thinking on running down to the Danube and jump down to the icy waters, finally ending his misery, when a friendly voice greets him in german. He turns, all intention of politely saying he’s forgotten the few german he knew in order to install latin pronunciation in his mind when he notices the voice comes from no other than Mathias.
“What are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you too, Jae!” Mathias laughs, using the short version of the name, finding it easier to pronounce in his austrian tongue.
“Sorry, I’m just surprised,” Jaejoong smiles cheekily. “Thought you would spend this holidays with your family.”
“And that’s what I’m doing. They live here in Vienna.” Mathias laughs when he sees the dumb-faced Jaejoong.
“Should have imagined someone as refined and rich as you had to live in the capital...,” he tries to mock, but Mathias only laughs and nods good moodily.
“You’re playing tonight, right?”
“Ahh.... no?” He laughs when the austrian man punches his shoulder.
“I already have my entrance, so you can lie all you want. I wouldn’t miss your debut for anything in the world.” Prince Charming winks, and Jaejoong blushes, wanting to disappear.
“You’ll make me go through torture... knowing you’re there in the public will make me more nervous.”
“Oh?” Jaejoong regrets his words as soon as they left his mouth. He didn’t mean it in any other way than friendly. You know, when you perform in front of a family member or friend it’s always more difficult than performing in front of strangers, right? That’s what he meant, but from Mathias sudden bright eyes, he knows the austrian has taken it in an entirely different way. “Don’t be. I don’t want to make you feel bad” Mathias whispers, and Jaejoong feels quite awkward.
“Ah, Mathias, what I meant is...,” his iPhone goes off right at that moment; not sure if he’s thankful for it or not he checks the white device to see a whatsapp message from the epitome of sexiness, asking if it’s ok to meet now at their hotel (they’re staying at the same hotel, not sharing rooms though, for Jaejoong’s disappointment). “Oh, seems I need to go now. Catch you later?”
“Sure. See you tonight.”
Before Mathias finishes waving, he’s already walking away to catch the tram towards his hotel. He decides it best to not mention the one reclaiming him is Yunho, and also to not share the news of Mathias attending the performance that night to Yunho. He really needs to fix this mess before he goes mad.
From there on, the day passes in relative calm.
Together with Yunho, they go over the whole scores again, clearing any last minute doubt of pronunciations or cadences. The composer forbids Jaejoong from singing the piece at all, saying to save his voice until it’s time to warm it up; Jaejoong follows the advice to the letter. They spend the rest of the day closed at the hotel, drinking not too strong herbal infusions for Jaejoong and dark strong coffees for Yunho. The pianist is so used to have Yunho around in shades that somehow finds himself surprised when Yunho tries his all to stay away from room services or strangers, and completely shoves off the idea of walking around the streets of Vienna. Makes him feel sad, but privileged at the same time.
Show time arrives faster than he would have wanted and they arrive to the venue to get started. A complete nervous mess, he checks his reflection at the mirror for the nth time. Black hair styled nicely all to the front and side (if that makes sense), some stylists even added some base light makeup, making his skin look smoother than ever. He is wearing a black three pieces elegant tuxedo, with a cool gainsboro colored shirt enhanced with a Ralph Lauren’s Black Label skinny tie and a pair of black denim and leather Lanvin shoes (the only brand names he could afford with his money back in South Korea). He looks good, he knows it. And if he didn’t know, the way other performers ogle him with wonder would do it.
Yunho is not around. Of course he isn’t, this is a room full of people and that means off-limits for the musical genius. Jaejoong sighs, he would have loved the taller korean to be there with him and help him overcome his nerves.
The concert starts. One by one, singers and musicians get out of the main backstage room to go on stage. He sits down on a couch in a forgotten corner of the room and tries to even his breath; he performs around the beginning of the second act, so better to try and calm down now or he will die during the long wait. The room is almost empty now, and he sings scales in a low voice to warm his voice and, actually, just to kill time and distract his mind.
A hand in his shoulder startles him; when he looks up he finds himself staring at the sunglasses covered face of Yunho, who’s dressed in a neat Prada midnight straight fit suit with a white shirt underneath and a pair of black lace up Louis Vuitton shoes. He looks like a model.
“Are you ok?” he says, crouching down to be at the pianist/soon-to-be-singer level. It’s such a normal gesture, but still he makes it look elegant and flawless. Or maybe Jaejoong is already too biased...
“I think no. I think I’ll throw up,” Jaejoong smiles nervously.
“You won’t throw up,” Yunho smiles back, with care. Jaejoong wants to hug him.
“How do you know?”
“I just do. Once you step on the stage, you’ll forget all your nerves, you’ll see.”
“Or I will throw up,” Yunho laughs; Jaejoong on the other hand doesn’t feel much like it.
“C’mon, show some confidence in yourself!” the composer grabs Jaejoong’s forearm, and squeezes it. Before really thinking, Jaejoong puts his other hand over Yunho’s, squeezing it back.
“I’m really, really scared, Yunho”.
“Don’t be. You are amazing, Jaejoong, really. Trust me on this,” not sure how it happened, but now they’re both holding hands, fingers intertwining, and so close that Jaejoong can see the shadow of Yunho’s eyes behind the dark glasses.
“I trust you, I always do,” he whispers.
“Then, don’t be afraid. Go out there and leave them all speechless. I’ll be right next to you, shielding you,” Yunho’s smile is so warm, so tender, it makes Jaejoong want to cry for the unreachable.
“With the sunglasses?” he’s said it with such a sad voice, and sure he is even pouting, he can’t avoid laughing at the stupidity of the question in such a nerve-wrecking situation. Yunho laughs with him.
“I am VIP, I can perform with sunglasses on and nobody complains,” the composer smirks, squeezing Jaejoong’s hand.
“I don’t get it. You’re afraid of showing yourself, still you go out there to play the piano in front of a crowd...,”
“I’m covering the part I don’t want to be seen, and I’ll be facing the other way. It’s not comfortable, but I prefer this than not being able to perform in any way ever again” Jaejoong is speechless. Here he is, without any physical problem (because it’s more than clear for Jaejoong by now that what Yunho suffers is a huge complex caused by some physical damage on his face, or malformation, or something like that), supposedly able to do a wonderful job, and scared about it. And Yunho, with all his fears and insecurities is going to be there on the stage, playing his loved instruments, because that is reason enough to be strong and face some fears. It’s official, Kim Jaejoong is an idiot.
“I’m sorry Yunho. I won’t complain anymore,” he is suddenly filled with a strength new to him.
“Complain all you want, I’m here to help,”
“Oh, don’t worry, you’ve helped me like you won’t even know, right now,” Jaejoong squeezes Yunho's hand for the last time and lets go of it. “Don’t you have to go on stage soon?”
“Yes, I’m playing the organ in a Bach mass song after this one” Yunho nods, and stands up. “See you in a few”
“Good luck, phantom”
“Thank you, monsieur”
Yunho is gone upstairs. Jaejoong laughs at the joke that simply doesn’t get old (even if he is worried thinking it could be a little too close to home in Yunho’s case), and waits until it’s his show time, more confident than ever. He is not going to fail Yunho. He is not going to fail himself.
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
PART II
+comments are disabled, please feel free to leave some at the next part :)
Author: shigai
Pairing: YunJae
Genre: AU, romance
Length: oneshot
Rating: pg-13
Warning: some technical words, but nothing too annoying ;)
Word count: 12.315
He’s been wandering the beautiful streets of Vienna for the whole morning, taking pictures and visiting every highlighted touristic place. It’s early afternoon, he’s kind of hungry and sweaty since it’s really warm under the sun. Clearly, he is still not used to this weather, even if back at home summers are way worse thanks to the horrible high humidity level.
Grabbing his pocket travel guide from inside his messenger bag to try and find some restaurant close to where he is right now, he walks until he finds shelter from the sun under the shadow produced by the high dome of the church he has right in front; Peterskirche, according to his guide. Mesmerized by the detailed baroque architecture of its walls, he forgets all about the guide and the restaurants and the hunger, and walks towards the building entrance, gaze fixed at the huge turquoise dome.
Vienna is such a magnificent city full of surprises alike this church, raised in such a compact space right in the middle of small streets, almost hidden by all the refined and classy buildings around it.
And why is Kim Jaejoong (natural from Gongju city, south korean, twenty-three years old) in Austria?. Well, since he was six years old, or even before, he’s shown a special attitude and ability for music, and since he was seven he’s been learning different instruments such as cello, violin and piano. His real childhood dream is to be a singer, but he knows he doesn’t have what it takes to make it.
He’s been almost two months already studying at the Mozarteum, the prestigious music university at Salzburg, Austria, improving his already good piano skills, favoring it over the other instruments he also played. It was pretty difficult to get a place for this two courses (one semester each), having to pass favorably so many evaluations: ‘highest level of technical proficiency and instrumental command; period and stylistic understanding of performed compositions; extensive and comprehensive repertoire’ blah blah blah. But it felt damn awesome when he was admitted after a successful audition already in Salzburg, in front of the Mozarteum committee of professional musicians, who praised his ‘superior level of quality, development, and artistic expression’.
All in all, classes are really demanding, so Jaejoong decided to travel to Vienna for the weekend, a city that always appealed to him, being the world’s capital of classical music, and relax on his own for a couple of days.
As soon as he steps inside the church a cool, calm and wonderful atmosphere envelopes him. There’s nobody else inside the small space, and the light of day enters softly through the high round windows giving the whole interior a warm feeling. He’s filled with a strong sense of relax, of peace. Marveling on the golden details of the columns and the ornamented walls and ceilings, he steps slowly to the center of the round building, gaze wandering around the high walls and the impressive vault, the noise of his steps echoing on the empty space. He hears someone moving somewhere, but doesn’t mind that much that there’s another person enjoying this peaceful tranquility the church offers. In fact, everybody should be enjoying such a feeling, he thinks.
His heart almost jumps out of his mouth when suddenly the organ starts playing. He turns and sees someone up there on the second floor playing it, but the high banister makes it impossible to distinguish anything beyond the back of a person sitting in front of the piped instrument.
Recovering from the scare, breathing deeply, he listens to the amazing sound produced by the organ in the perfect acoustics of this oval church. The young korean walks to the first row of benches, sits down, closes his eyes, and gets lost inside his mind enjoying the gift of such a wonderful sound in such a wonderful place. Moments like this are the ones which remind him the great choice he made when he applied to come to study in Austria.
He’s lost track of time when he recognizes one of the pieces being played. An organ version of Mon coeur s'ouvre a ta voix, from Camille Saint-Saëns’s opera Samson et Dalila. It sounds a little weird, the powerful and loud instrument playing such a delicate love song, but it’s a good kind of weird, since it sounds wonderful and entrancing nonetheless.
Before he notices it, Jaejoong is humming along, doing the intricate melodies the mezzo-soprano should be singing. When the second verse arrives, he can’t stop himself from singing it in a loud voice, too immersed in the music enveloping him.
He knows he doesn’t have the range of a mezzo-soprano. He knows he can barely call himself a singer, but he loves to sing, and he can hit the notes, and well, there is nobody else here except for the organ player who probably won’t even hear him. Plus, the acoustics of the church are wonderful, and his soul feels like this is a one chance in life, and he simply does. He simply raises his voice and sings;
Ah! réponds à ma tendresse!
Verse-moi, verse-moi l'ivresse!
It feels extraordinary. His voice sounds powerful, almost ethereal, and he surprises himself with it. The organ keeps playing the end of the song, and he smiles to himself: mission accomplished. Almost laughing, feeling high and mighty, he stands up and walks towards the door decided to continue his lunch search. The song arrives at an end as soon as he is walking right under the organ, and before he can take a new step, he hears someone clearing his throat.
“That was pretty good,” a low male voice echoes in accented german in the emptiness of the building. Jaejoong feels his stomach twist, and like dying in shame. He’s been busted!
“Ah... sorry, I-” Jaejoong answers, his few german words abandoning him with the nerves.
“Sorry? Why apologizing? Talent isn’t something to apology for,” the voice answers in english. Jaejoong chuckles.
“Thank you, I suppose. For the language change too,” he is blushing, he knows, and he is really glad the organ player (because he knows the one talking can only be him since there’s nobody else) is upstairs and can’t see him.
“Are you a professional?”
“What? Singing? No way!” he laughs shyly.
“Why not? You should,” Jaejoong swallows.
“Yeah, well... I’m a piano student, so...,”
“That doesn’t mean you cannot sing professionally,”
“Ah well, thanks? Emm, I should be going now, it was really nice of you to-” too ashamed, Jaejoong only wants to run away from the place.
“What’s your name?”
“...No offense, but my name is not important here” Jaejoong hears the other man chuckle, and it sounds nice and welcoming, calming his nervous system a little. He hears some steps upstairs, so he walks backwards looking up, until he sees the man close to the banister. Sun light is entering strongly from the window right behind the huge instrument, so it’s practically impossible to recognize a face in the back light. Plus, that light is hitting him right on the face, blinding him partly.
There are a couple of silent seconds where he tries to gain some vision, while hearing the other man inhale deeply.
“I would really appreciate knowing your name,” Jaejoong can recognize some shapes now. A full mouth, a straight nose, a powerful chin. The organ player looks tall but thin and young.
“... Jaejoong.”
“Oh? Korean?”
“Yeah?”
“Funny,” the organ player answers in perfect korean. After the initial surprise, Jaejoong laughs.
“What are the odds,” he shakes his head.
“Yes, what are them... do you study here in Vienna, Jaejoong-shi?”
“Eh, no, I’m a Mozarteum student in Salzburg” he knows he sounds proud, but damn if he isn’t. Most prestigious music university in the world, and he is part of it. The organ player bursts in laughter. A high, warm and rich laughter. “What??”
“Nothing, just... the odds are really funny,”
“What?”
“Look, I need to go now, lot of things to do. It was a pleasure to meet you, Jaejoong-shi.” the organ player bows, and steps backwards.
“Wait!” Jaejoong is surprised at his own demand, but on the other hand it’s not that weird, he thinks. Finding a korean youth who plays music in Vienna was not impossible, but not ‘normal’ either. “Want to go grab some lunch with me?”
“... straightforward, aren’t we?” Jaejoong blushes when he hears the other man chuckle. “I would love to, but I really have a lot of things to do. I’m sure there will be a next time someday, Jaejoong-shi,” another bow, more steps away.
“At least tell me your name? So I can... dunno, maybe ask-”
“Yunho. Jung Yunho”.
Before Jaejoong can tell anything else, there’s the echoing of shoes and the noise of a heavy door opening and closing. He’s stunned into silence for a while, not sure what to do or think. In the end, he just shrugs, smiles, and walks out of the church.
Vienna’s melting summer sun receives him, and he’s almost tempted to walk back into the church. Almost.
Shaking his head and smiling to himself, he walks down the street, guide back in his hand, decided to have an awesome (and cheap) lunch.
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
A hand slaps his shoulder, and he stirs awake.
“Wake up, idiot!” Jaejoong turns and finds a class-mate frowning at him.
“Sorry”.
Slapping his cheeks lightly a couple of times, he tries hard to stay awake. He’s been really tired lately, the stress of the classes and practices getting to him. It’s almost an impossible mission to stay awake in the middle of the chamber music class, when companions are performing a really relaxing Schubert piece which his brain is too asleep to recognize. He’s sure he knows it, it’s familiar; he just can’t put his finger on it.
Still, even if he’s deadly tired, it’s too rude to fall asleep during a fellow musician performance, so he scolds himself internally and puts the whole of his attention on the way those skillful students’ fingers dance over strings, all in perfect harmony and supreme technique. Couldn't be any other way: the Mozarteum only accepts the best of the best.
The piece finishes, and the few other students applaud. The professor gets up from his sitting place and walks towards the performers, face rigid and serious attitude; Jaejoong is sure he didn’t think the piece was executed as perfectly as it was supposed to. He thinks he could get away with yawning now that everybody’s attention is at the teacher’s words, but a sudden knock on the door cuts his attempt from root.
“Yes?” the professor answers.
“It’s me, professor; could you walk out for a second?” a man’s voice answers from behind the door.
“Oh, of course.” the old german man walks towards the door, assuring the students he’ll be back soon.
As soon as the man is out, Jaejoong yawns widely. Blinking away the tears born in his eyes from such a good yawn, he turns to his companions who he’s sure are going to scold him for being so ‘lazy and disrespectful’.
“Think it was him?” a short haired japanese girl is asking a red-haired british boy. Jaejoong is really glad of the rich variety of ethnics in the university, since this way everything was talked and taught in english, a language he can defend himself on pretty well.
“Who knows? But surely, no one else can make a professor walk out of a lesson like that except for him” the british boy answers.
“Him?” Jaejoong, being the curious man he’s always been, can’t stop himself from asking.
“You know, ‘the Phantom of the opera’” A brunette italian girl answers, and they all laugh. Some even start humming the famous tune from the british worldwide known musical.
“Whaat?” Jaejoong looks at them as if they’ve lost their minds. Actually, he quite believes it.
“It’s just a joke! You see, there’s this student guy who nobody has ever seen, who seems to be a musical genius or something like that since all teachers in the university practically worship him,” the italian girl proceeds to explain.
“Huh? Is there someone like that here?” the young korean pianist asks skeptically.
“Yeah!” the short japanese girl answers smiling, excited with the gossip.
“... and nobody has ever seen him?” Jaejoong insists.
“That’s why everybody calls him ‘the phantom’” the italian brunette adds, doing the quote sign with his fingers.
“... so what, is he deformed or something?”
“Nobody has seen him, Jayjoong, nobody. How do we know?” the british boy interferes, having some difficulties in pronouncing the korean name correctly.
“Well, someone has; the teachers sure have seen him, right?” Jaejoong smirks when the others look at him silently. “Ha, checkmate!”
“Whatever man. But really, he attends no classes, and no student has seen him anywhere. He’s such a mystery,” the japanese girl smiles again, sighing as if reading a romance novel, and Jaejoong rolls his eyes.
“Well, you don’t have a lack of imagination, that’s for sure,” he adds, and before anyone can retort, the teacher walks back in with papers in his hand.
“We have some new scores I would like to try. Are you up to it?” they all agree instantly, and Jaejoong can feel the excitement in the air.
“What’s happening?” he whispers to the girl next to him.
“New scores, from the phantom!” she smiles cheekily.
No more is said. The teacher hands out a set of study scores to each of them, and gives some long minutes for them to read the scores. There are some sighs and low surprised sounds as the time passes, and he actually can understand the reason. The score he has in his hands is amazing. Every note seems to be in its perfect place, every breathe mark, every marcato, every scale. His fingers are itching while he devours the piano part with his eyes, anxious to play it, to taste it.
“Ok, should we try a first approach?” the teacher asks, and all the students nod.
The rest of the class passes in a breathe for Jaejoong. He doesn’t feel tired anymore, as soon as the score comes to life in the room. When he finally gets his chance to play the piano part, he feels as if that was the exact reason why he decided to study music. As if that piece was the reason of all reasons.
In a daze, he walks back to his rented room close to the University’s main building at the Mirabellplatz. His mind filled with music, his fingers moving on his own. Whoever that phantom is, he makes the most wonderful music he’s heard in ages. Jaejoong vows to himself to meet the composer, and thank him. No matter how much it takes for it.
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
For weeks he cannot take the haunting melody out of his head. He finds himself humming it on the halls of the university between classes, playing it on every available piano or violin, singing it when he's sure he is alone. He’s been asking around for tips about the composer, having to refer him as the phantom even if he finds it silly or insulting, but there’s no other way the rest of students know who he’s talking about without that nickname.
No need to say, there’s been no luck at all.
He’s heard more things about him, though. How he is a young man around his twenties, like him, who came to study at the Mozarteum a couple of years ago for supposedly one semester only, but has so much talent the teachers begged for him to stay and even paid for every needed scholarship, sponsored him, helped him selling his works, etc. How supposedly he is an awesome orchestra conductor, but he haven’t directed anything anywhere. How nobody knows why he hides the way he does, and the few teachers who know keep the secret fiercely.
To say Jaejoong is dying with mad curiosity is an understatement.
He is currently playing the piano at an empty class, totally absorbed in sounds and rhythms and melodies, when he finds he’s morphed a Nocturne from Chopin into the Phantom’s piece. And, the most surprising thing is he doesn’t mind the change.
He plays with more intensity now. It’s weird, but there’s something about this melody that’s enchanting, making him feel warm and accomplished. Music is surrounding him, caressing him. His fingers drawing wonderful patterns over the hard keys of the piano. Soon, the melody is too grand for only his fingers, and he finds himself humming it. Louder. Louder. He needs to sing this, he really needs to, but there are no lyrics, no words, no story. He makes a sudden stop, frustrated.
“This needs lyrics so badly...,” he murmurs.
“Would you sing it if it had lyrics?” startled, Jaejoong turns towards the door. A tall man is leaning there, all dressed in black stylish clothes, with some kind of fedora hat low on his face, and big designer sunglasses covering more than half of the rest, making it practically impossible to see anything from the face apart from the nose and the lips.
“Sorry? Ah! Did you talk in korean just now??” too immersed in his world, he didn’t notice the language used. The tall man chuckles, stands apart from the door and takes a couple of steps towards the pianist.
“Of course I did. Why so surprised? You’ve already talked to me in korean before.”
“eh? when...,” and then it hits him, the tall stylish figure, the young korean man with full lips and strong chin from Vienna “Jung Yunho-shi?” the other smiles a tight lip smile and nods.
“What are the odds, huh?” Yunho says, making Jaejoong laugh surprised by the coincidence.
“You study here?” the pianist asks.
“Kind of,” the taller man shrugs “Answer me, would you sing that song if it had lyrics?”
“What do you have with me and singing? We’ve only meet two times, but the topic barely change.”
“Well, you have a wonderful voice, that’s all,” Jaejoong blushes a little, and chuckles awkwardly.
“well... thank you? Even if I doubt you’ve really heard me, with the organ noise playing and all...,”
“I’ve heard. And now, too.” even under the sunglasses, Jaejoong can feel the other’s eyes looking at him.
“... I don’t know what to say,” Yunho laughs “Really”.
“Sorry, we are practically strangers, and here I am harassing you. I apologize,” the black dressed man bows deeply. Jaejoong scratches his arm, nervous.
“No need to be so polite...,” Yunho stands up again, smiling. Jaejoong watches how perfect his smile is, the beautiful shape the lips draw around the straight, perfect, white teeth. How it seems to brighten the whole hidden face. “answering your question...,”
“Hmm?”
“It’s a beautiful melody, so everybody would love to sing it, yes. Still, it doesn’t matter, it has no lyrics and that’s what there is.” Jaejoong crosses his arms and nods solemnly, making the taller man chuckle. It makes him feel good, somehow.
“But that can be fixed,” Yunho crosses his arms too, imitating Jaejoong. “We can add the lyrics we want.”
“Whaaat? No!! You cannot modify somebody else’s work like that, that’s like... dunno, dying someone else’s hair some horrendous color like moss green without consent!”
“... that is a really interesting example,” Yunho chuckles. Jaejoong wishes to die. “But who said we would modify somebody else’s work?”
It takes two seconds to understand it, but Jaejoong finds himself inhaling sharply once he does.
“You wrote that?? You?”
“Yes I did,”
“You are the ph-,” Jaejoong covers his mouth instantly, and wants to die for the second time in less than one minute.
“Yes, I am the phantom,” Yunho smiles kind of sadly, and Jaejoong hates himself.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...,”
“It’s ok, that’s how everybody calls me, right?”
“Well, I don’t get why! You could just show yourself the way you do with me and they would stop. Actually, if you take that hat awa-” As soon as Jaejoong takes a step towards Yunho, hand reaching towards the fedora, Yunho takes two hurried steps back, practically jumping. Jaejoong stands there dumbfounded.
“I should be leaving now. I’ll think on the lyrics thing. Thanks for your time, Jaejoong-shi.”
And just like that, Yunho disappears, closing the door hurriedly behind himself.
The way he reacted, the way Yunho practically ran away from him... Jaejoong thinks maybe he understands a little more the reasons behind Yunho’s nickname.
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
It’s a really warm and clammy day when Jaejoong meets Yunho again.
The black haired man is sitting at the piano bench, playing Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No.8 In C Minor Op.13 (Pathetique), slow, heavy, deep. The melancholic, bittersweet sound of Beethoven’s piece comes sadder than it should be when played by Yunho’s fingers, but still, it’s beautiful and entrancing to the point where Jaejoong finds himself unable to move.
He can only see the other’s back side, how his shoulders and arms dance at the rhythm his fingers dictate. It’s stunning. Yunho’s shape, Yunho’s music, Yunho’s aura; it’s stunning.
The song diminishes in soft stacattos, and Jaejoong finds himself releasing a breath once Yunho’s hands get away from the keys, signaling the end of the piece. The taller man tenses visibly.
“Who’s there?” Yunho asks, not turning.
“Oh, hey, sorry, it’s me, Kim Jaejoong,” he smiles awkwardly “Sorry, I was just passing by and heard you play and.... well, you are... amazing,” he confesses in awe. Yunho chuckles.
“Thanks,” Jaejoong notices that even if the other’s voice sounds relaxed, his limbs are far from it. His pose is wary, as if ready to run away. And he is still not turning.
“emm... you made a sad Beethoven though,” Jaejoong starts walking forward “that piece is supposed to be bittersw-”
“Stay where you are!” Yunho practically roars.
“W-what?” Jaejoong is astonished, an incredulous smile on his lips.
“Don’t come any closer,” the taller man sounds menacing, but nervous at the same time.
“Dude, what the hell? I don’t get you!” and he really doesn’t. Yunho sounds friendly one time, then he’s all furtive the next. What is he playing at?
“Sorry but... just...,” Yunho stands up, runs his hands through his fringe seemingly combing it downwards fast and angry, and with his head facing down and almost completely turned away from the place where Jaejoong is standing he walks towards the door, stops to grab something and walks out of the piano room, not uttering another word.
“T-the hell!?” Jaejoong steps out of the room in a hurry “Why are you walking away like that? What’s your problem??” he is angry, or more like offended. Yunho stops walking, but doesn’t turn around.
“Sorry, I don’t like whe-”
“Turn to look at my face when you talk to me!” for a second he thinks he is overreacting, but then again, Yunho was being beyond rude and weird, and he was pissed.
“I can’t!”
“The fu-”
“I don’t want you to look at my face! I don’t want anybody looking at my face.” the last part is said with such a painful tone that all the anger leaves Jaejoong completely.
“What? Why?”
“... that’s something I don’t like to talk about. Can you please respect that?” Yunho opens the small messenger bag that Jaejoong hadn’t even noticed before, grabs what seems a black beanie and puts it on, really low on his head.
“Yes. Yes, I’m sorry for prying,” a strong sense of guilt washes over Jaejoong. He can’t imagine what kind of reasons someone could have to not wanting to show their faces, but it seems something touchy and painful for the other.
“Don’t worry. I’m leaving now.”
“Ah! wait!!” Jaejoong takes a step forward, but stops instantly, not wanting to make the other uncomfortable. Yunho stops, but doesn’t say anything. “Can I have your phone number?”
“W-what?” Yunho sounds incredulous. Probably it’s not a really normal situation to ask for a phone number, but Jaejoong doesn’t care.
“Your phone number. This way we can talk or text or use whatsapp or whatever.”
“Why. Why would you want to-” still sounds incredulous. Jaejoong chuckles.
“You’re interesting. You compose wonderful pieces and are a talented performer too. Plus, the only korean I’ve met around! C’mon. By phone I won’t see your face?” Jaejoong tells it as a joke, and sighs in relief when the other chuckles.
“You’re weird,”
“I’ve been told,” Jaejoong shrugs. “So?”
“... give me your phone.”
Jaejoong takes his white iPhone out of his bag, with its wonderful vintage brown cassette cover and a triumphant smile. Yunho asks him to close his eyes, and frowning he does. Steps start getting closer, he feels someone grabbing his phone from his hand. Yunho’s voice sounds close and warm when he asks him not to peek, and it would be so easy, so easy to just open an eye and look at the other’s face. And he is so so curious about all this. But it really seems as something big for the taller man, and Jaejoong doesn’t want to upset him. Somehow, he can’t even dare to.
Some seconds later, where he’s been enjoying the weird warm feeling of Yunho’s presence close to him, he hears a ring tone, an mp3. He chuckles.
“Seriously?” he is more than amused recognizing Ramin Karimloo’s take on the Phantom of the Opera role singing Music of the Night. Yunho breathes a small laugh.
“Isn’t it perfect?” he says with a smiling voice. Jaejoong laughs, pleasantly surprised by Yunho’s good humor on his own nickname.
“It’s great, yeah,”
“If I was a good singer, I would totally audition for the role,” Jaejoong laughs again, at ease with the other’s sense of humor “Ok, ready. Here.” he feels the other putting his phone back in his hand, and he grabs it. “You can open your eyes now”.
When he does, he only sees Yunho’s back, walking away from him, waving. He smiles and checks his phone, expecting the new entry with a funny name, something along the lines of phantoms, eriks, opera ghosts, etc. He finds a simple Yunho, nothing else. His smile widens. Somehow, it feels even better to have it just like that.
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
Autumn arrived fast, and days are colder.
Jaejoong and Yunho have been giving their phones a lot of usage. Calls and texts and whatsapp messages and kakao’s ones. It’s weird how close they’ve become; friends, even, when they practically don’t meet in person at all. Yunho keeps on hiding, and it’s beyond annoying for the shorter pianist. He repeats to himself once and again that he has to respect the other, that there must be a big reason for such a behavior.
But every time he hears someone mocking the phantom, or every time he subtly asks for the taller man to meet him and faces rejection, he feels his blood boiling.
Still, he keeps on respecting it the best he can. Yunho is an amazing person, and he doesn’t want to lose that, even if it’s only in smartphone way.
Today Jaejoong has wandered around the streets of Salzburg, ending his stroll at one of his favorite places of the city: the terrace of the Sacher hotel, overlooking the stunning views of the Salzach river with the towers of the Salzburg cathedral in the back, and the Hohensalzburg Fortress dominating the whole city from the top of the mountain. With a warm tea on his table, enjoying the last warm days of the year while reading a good book, Jaejoong feels lucky. He is in such a beautiful city, studying what he loves the most in the most prestigious place of the world, getting to know awesome people and the most admirable professional musicians... he sighs. He would love to bring his family here someday and share the joy of this magical city with them, this way he wouldn’t feel so lonely.
His phone beeps on the table and unlocking the screen he sees he has a whatsapp message. Smiling, sure of knowing from who he is, he reads it.
‘How are you liking your free afternoon?’
Chuckling, he answers with an ‘Hmph, dunno, I think I’m masochist because I’m missing my tyrant teacher’. He knows the answer will come soon, so the book he was reading is left forgotten on the table for the sake of writing faster responses.
His tyrant teacher: Yunho. Yes, lately Yunho has been helping him with singing. It took a long time until Jaejoong accepted, reticent thinking his voice wasn’t worth it and other stuff like that, but Yunho insisted and flattered and well, here they are. Lessons are weird, since he doesn’t have the teacher there per se. Classes consist on written lessons and exercises by mail, plus recordings as evaluations. All in all, Jaejoong finds it really entertaining; easy, since he doesn’t have to face anyone while he practices or records. And surprisingly, it’s giving results. He has a wider range now, a more stable control of his vibrato, a better technique in his breathing.
And all thanks to that obstinate composer.
“Ah, Entschuldigung?” a voice interrupts his whatsapping time, and he looks up to see a young, tall, thin, extremely handsome man.
“eh?” is his smart answer.
“sind Sie ein Student aus dem Mozarteum?”
“ah, ja... sorry, mein Deutsch wirklich schlecht...?” he smiles shamefully, and the other man laughs.
“Sorry sorry, obviously you’re not austrian,” the extremely handsome man with an extremely handsome smile says.
“Ah well, been here for a while, I should have learned already,” Jaejoong scratches his head bashfully. “Can I help you?”
“Yes yes, you study at the Mozarteum, right?”
“Yeah. How can I... wait, how do you know?”
“I’ve seen you there,” the austrian man smiles, seductively, Jaejoong notices. He blushes a little, against his own will. “I study there too.”
“Oh,” is his second smart answer of the day.
“I’m Mathias von Hohenberg, violin player,” the now known as Mathias inclines his head in a gentlemanly bow of the head.
“Kim Jaejoong, piano player,” Jaejoong smiles and bows too, in a more asian style.
“Jaejoong,” the way he says it and the way he looks at him makes Jaejoong shiver, not entirely sure if it’s pleasant or not. “Well, see you around the university. Enjoy the rest of your day.” and with the grace of an ancient european prince, the tall, handsome and graceful Mathias walks away, crossing the Markartsteg bridge until Jaejoong can follow his shape no more.
His heart is kind of beating fast. It’s not everyday that a beyond handsome european boy flirts with you, because it was clear as light that there had been some serious flirting going towards his persona. He smiles; it feels good to be flattered randomly like that.
His iPhone beeps again. Unlocking it in a rush, biting his lip, he sees a couple of unread whatsapp messages, last one he just received being:
‘Did you fall asleep on me?’
Somehow he feels bad. Somehow, he feels guilty.
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
Yunho has been sending him mails with lyrics for the perfect song he composed.
They are sad and emotive and absolutely gorgeous. Jaejoong finds himself singing them every chance he gets, every time he is alone. He even records himself singing it while accompanying himself at the piano, and sends it to Yunho in a strange case of confidence in his voice.
The speechless call he receives long minutes later, with a flustered Yunho who runs out of praising words for him makes everything worth it.
He’s having weird feelings about all this business with Yunho. It’s like, he is absurdly fascinated by him. He has heard more pieces composed by the elusive korean, and each of them has made him feel things, deep emotions running through his system, almost moving him to tears.
He is fascinated by his music, and by his mysterious persona. Why does he hide like that? Why is he so scared of showing his face? His body looks perfectly fine. More than fine, actually. Jaejoong can’t avoid thinking how physically perfect the taller man is when he has a chance to see him walking away, or hiding behind hats and huge designer shades. What secrets is he hiding behind those accessories?
And his music, so sad, so broken. Is his soul like that? Does he write what he feels? Jaejoong wants to know, needs to know. He is practically sure he is developing a monumental crush on Yunho, and it annoys him the way he doesn’t even know how the other looks, or if and why he is suffering for it.
He wants to help.
On the other hand, Mathias, the perfect gentleman, has been showing himself around more often than not. His intentions are really clear, and everybody in their circle of acquaintances (and beyond too) knows how the austrian prince worships the ground Jaejoong steps on. And really, he is not exaggerating. All in all, Jaejoong feels at ease with him. Always trying to keep a wall between them so Mathias sees he has no chance, but still enjoying his friendship. It’s weird, but it works somehow, and he’s found a companion for wonderful piano and violin duos. Mathias is not only a gentleman, but an awesome violin player too.
Ok, he cannot deny it gives him some kind of satisfaction when all the rest of students stare at them with envy. Yes, the university’s ‘charming prince’ is all after him. Don’t deny it, that would make anyone feel good. And it has a plus.
Yunho seems jealous too.
At the beginning it wasn’t noticeable, but lately he asks at every call and every message if Mathias is around, and he doesn’t sound very pleased when the answer is affirmative. It’s mean, but it makes Jaejoong’s heart feel some hope, even if he doesn’t know hope for what exactly. For a closer friendship? For the taller man to have a crush on him too? For something bigger?
On the other hand, Mathias seems to not appreciate this calls from the phantom at all. In this case Jaejoong is completely sure, the blond austrian is jealous. And in this case Jaejoong doesn’t really enjoy it. He tells himself he has to talk with his friend soon, and draw a clear line.
And this is how days pass. Playing this wicked game of crushes and jealousy, improving beyond belief his piano skills, and mastering his voice in singing. His range is wide now; Yunho told him he can hit a C5 easily, and then named him a tenor. It feels good to hear a genius like Yunho praising his voice.
With such a busy life, it’s almost a surprise when he finds snow on the streets. Winter is here.
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
There’s a big ruckus at the university, and it’s pretty understandable. An official request has arrived from Vienna, asking for Jung Yunho to play the organ and the piano at the Musikvereinhaus main hall, in a Christmas event where works from the likes of Bach, Handel and Mozart will be played.
Jaejoong only needs two seconds after knowing the news before he calls his tutor.
“You are amazing!!” is the first thing he yells when Yunho answers the phone.
“I know,” Yunho chuckles, and Jaejoong’s toes curl “but why exactly, may I know?”
“The Christmas concert!!”
“Oh, right. Thank you,” he doesn’t sound that excited, but Jaejoong knows better now. Yunho can be really reserved when it comes to his works, and never likes to exalt the praising he deserves.
“I am so going to see it. Can you get me tickets?”
“Actually... I have other plans for you to be there,”
“Ok, I am officially scared,” Jaejoong mutters; Yunho chuckles.
“You should. I just requested for you to be in it too,”
“Huh??” Jaejoong’s heart stops beating, he’s sure of it “b-but, you’ll already be there playing the piano!”
“I never said I wanted you there as a pianist,”
“... Yunho, what did you do...,”
“Would you sing there, Jaejoong?”
“WHAT?? Are yo- what?? Are you mental??” hysteria overtakes him “I am, NOT, in no way!! I can’t!! What made you think I could??”
“You can. You have a wonderful voice, and a pretty impressive technique by now,” Yunho sounds so calm it makes Jaejoong go more hysteric. As nonsensical as that is.
“Impressive my ass! No way, I won’t go through that!! I am a piano player, PIANO!!”
“But you long to sing, don’t you?” Jaejoong is rendered speechless, and somehow feels completely sad, in the verge of tears even.
“... what the fuck do you know,” and he hangs up.
He walks in a hurry towards his room and throws himself on the bed once he reaches it. He is mad, nervous, upset, hysteric, sad, deceived, and full of hope. He is going completely nuts inside. His iPhone keeps ringing and ringing, the annoying mainstream pop tune getting on his nerves. Wanting to throw it to the furthest corner of the room, he ends up answering the call, blaming his body for not doing what his mind commanded.
“Jaejoong...,”
“...,” he doesn’t feel like talking. He doesn’t know which one of all the emotions filling him will come out first.
“... I’m sorry.” and it’s the first time Yunho has apologized like that, with such a whisper, sad and guilty.
“Why did you do it?” he whispers back, tiredly.
“Because your voice is astounding. You don’t believe it, but it is. Do you think I would put you on the list for such an event if you weren’t?”
“... but I’m not ready,”
“You are. You will. I’ll rehearse with you day after day. And you will only sing one aria, not the whole concert.”
“...,” Jaejoong sits up, and looks at his free hand, resting on his leg. What to do, this is his dream at the palm of his hand, what to do... “Ok. But you’re going to help me in everything.”
“Of course I will!” Now Yunho sounds excited.
“And you’ll rehearse with me in person,”
“... Jaejoong, you know I don’t want to be se-”
“I give a damn. You’re making me go through this hell, the least you can do is be there with me physically,” he’s not sure where the strength to demand such a thing comes from, but he likes it.
“Deal,” Yunho answers after long silent seconds. “See you tomorrow at the piano room.”
“O-ok!” all his hysteria gone as soon as Yunho agrees to meet him in person.
“... thanks for agreeing.” Yunho hangs up.
And Jaejoong’s heart does somersaults.
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
Covering half of his face, Yunho appears; a pair of huge Louis Vuitton sunglasses on, ‘Possession Pilot’ black ones. Jaejoong sighs, disappointed even if he was already expecting something like that, but then he looks again and notices a lack of a hat/beanie/you-name-it accessory covering Yunho’s head, and how the composer’s hair is black and shining and styled to perfection. Also, he is dressed to kill: an Armani Exchange straight fit and wide loose drape neckline placket polo in black that leaves no room for imagination about his collarbones and long, long sexy neck; black twill blazer from the same mentioned brand in his hand; a pair of dark midnight washed out skinny leg denim’s, from Gucci judging by the green/red/green signature on the coin pocket. To complete it all, a pair of Nero calf leather boots by Bottega Veneta.
Jaejoong swoons; right in front of him there’s the epitome of style, good taste and sexiness. And except for the totality of his eyes, eyebrows and half of his cheeks, he can see all of Yunho’s face, and seriously, there’s nothing he doesn’t like. Nothing.
“Big shades,” it’s the only thing he manages to say without squealing.
“I’m here in person, let me at least cover enough to feel confident,” the ‘epitome of sexiness’ also known as Yunho, answers.
“How can you not feel confident? Being like that?” the pianist mutters the last part.
“What did you say?” Jaejoong breathes once he’s sure the other didn’t catch him.
“I said, what am I singing?” he walks towards the piano and sits on the bench, turning to face the taller man, who’s hanging his jacket on the back of a chair.
“Oh, yeah. Here,” a couple of long strides from the composer, and Jaejoong swears every bad word he knows in his head at the unfairness of the world: the epitome of sexiness also smells so good. Praying for his mind to act normal, he checks the full score being offered to him.
“... Verdi? Am I going to sing in italian??” frowning, he looks up at Yunho, who’s smirking.
“No, in Latin! Exciting, I know,” Yunho shrugs, takes the scores from Jaejoong’s hands and starts passing the sheets, checking the scores.
“... you’re really a tyrant.”
“I’m mostly called a sadistic, but that could work too,” Yunho smirks again, and Jaejoong blushes. Probably he shouldn’t, probably it was a well intended joke with no second meaning, but, well, his mind seems to be down in the gutter. At least in front of such a stud. “C’mon, let’s begin”.
He’s going to be singing Ingemisco, from Verdi’s Messa da Requiem. It’s an aria from the Dies Irae section of the piece, written for the voice of a tenor. Jaejoong is beyond scared; the song starts practically a capella, and for around four minutes it follows a journey of sweet decrescendos and powerful crescendos, a song of extreme dynamics and a solemn, almost sad tone. It’s an extremely beautiful piece, but he’s really not sure he can perform it successfully.
Of course Yunho thinks otherwise, and a personal torture of exhausting rehearsals begins. He doesn’t complain, though; every new rehearsal, Yunho appears stunning and dressed to the nines. Sunglasses never leave the outfit, but still, there’s nothing to complain. Nothing at all.
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
Christmas morning, he’s walking nervously around the snowed Ringstrasse. Luxurious Vienna looks even more beautiful dressed in white and colored with Christmas lights and decorations, and he wishes he wouldn’t be as nervous as he is so he could enjoy it more.
He has the song mastered, he knows it. Every breath, every accent, every damn passagio. Yunho has praised him endlessly, always reminding him he does it perfectly and has nothing to fear. Still, he feels like throwing up, possibly more than once.
His sadistic tutor is gone now to fix some stuff for the night’s performance, leaving him behind with some ‘relax by now’ words of advice that clearly he cannot follow. He’s thinking on running down to the Danube and jump down to the icy waters, finally ending his misery, when a friendly voice greets him in german. He turns, all intention of politely saying he’s forgotten the few german he knew in order to install latin pronunciation in his mind when he notices the voice comes from no other than Mathias.
“What are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you too, Jae!” Mathias laughs, using the short version of the name, finding it easier to pronounce in his austrian tongue.
“Sorry, I’m just surprised,” Jaejoong smiles cheekily. “Thought you would spend this holidays with your family.”
“And that’s what I’m doing. They live here in Vienna.” Mathias laughs when he sees the dumb-faced Jaejoong.
“Should have imagined someone as refined and rich as you had to live in the capital...,” he tries to mock, but Mathias only laughs and nods good moodily.
“You’re playing tonight, right?”
“Ahh.... no?” He laughs when the austrian man punches his shoulder.
“I already have my entrance, so you can lie all you want. I wouldn’t miss your debut for anything in the world.” Prince Charming winks, and Jaejoong blushes, wanting to disappear.
“You’ll make me go through torture... knowing you’re there in the public will make me more nervous.”
“Oh?” Jaejoong regrets his words as soon as they left his mouth. He didn’t mean it in any other way than friendly. You know, when you perform in front of a family member or friend it’s always more difficult than performing in front of strangers, right? That’s what he meant, but from Mathias sudden bright eyes, he knows the austrian has taken it in an entirely different way. “Don’t be. I don’t want to make you feel bad” Mathias whispers, and Jaejoong feels quite awkward.
“Ah, Mathias, what I meant is...,” his iPhone goes off right at that moment; not sure if he’s thankful for it or not he checks the white device to see a whatsapp message from the epitome of sexiness, asking if it’s ok to meet now at their hotel (they’re staying at the same hotel, not sharing rooms though, for Jaejoong’s disappointment). “Oh, seems I need to go now. Catch you later?”
“Sure. See you tonight.”
Before Mathias finishes waving, he’s already walking away to catch the tram towards his hotel. He decides it best to not mention the one reclaiming him is Yunho, and also to not share the news of Mathias attending the performance that night to Yunho. He really needs to fix this mess before he goes mad.
From there on, the day passes in relative calm.
Together with Yunho, they go over the whole scores again, clearing any last minute doubt of pronunciations or cadences. The composer forbids Jaejoong from singing the piece at all, saying to save his voice until it’s time to warm it up; Jaejoong follows the advice to the letter. They spend the rest of the day closed at the hotel, drinking not too strong herbal infusions for Jaejoong and dark strong coffees for Yunho. The pianist is so used to have Yunho around in shades that somehow finds himself surprised when Yunho tries his all to stay away from room services or strangers, and completely shoves off the idea of walking around the streets of Vienna. Makes him feel sad, but privileged at the same time.
Show time arrives faster than he would have wanted and they arrive to the venue to get started. A complete nervous mess, he checks his reflection at the mirror for the nth time. Black hair styled nicely all to the front and side (if that makes sense), some stylists even added some base light makeup, making his skin look smoother than ever. He is wearing a black three pieces elegant tuxedo, with a cool gainsboro colored shirt enhanced with a Ralph Lauren’s Black Label skinny tie and a pair of black denim and leather Lanvin shoes (the only brand names he could afford with his money back in South Korea). He looks good, he knows it. And if he didn’t know, the way other performers ogle him with wonder would do it.
Yunho is not around. Of course he isn’t, this is a room full of people and that means off-limits for the musical genius. Jaejoong sighs, he would have loved the taller korean to be there with him and help him overcome his nerves.
The concert starts. One by one, singers and musicians get out of the main backstage room to go on stage. He sits down on a couch in a forgotten corner of the room and tries to even his breath; he performs around the beginning of the second act, so better to try and calm down now or he will die during the long wait. The room is almost empty now, and he sings scales in a low voice to warm his voice and, actually, just to kill time and distract his mind.
A hand in his shoulder startles him; when he looks up he finds himself staring at the sunglasses covered face of Yunho, who’s dressed in a neat Prada midnight straight fit suit with a white shirt underneath and a pair of black lace up Louis Vuitton shoes. He looks like a model.
“Are you ok?” he says, crouching down to be at the pianist/soon-to-be-singer level. It’s such a normal gesture, but still he makes it look elegant and flawless. Or maybe Jaejoong is already too biased...
“I think no. I think I’ll throw up,” Jaejoong smiles nervously.
“You won’t throw up,” Yunho smiles back, with care. Jaejoong wants to hug him.
“How do you know?”
“I just do. Once you step on the stage, you’ll forget all your nerves, you’ll see.”
“Or I will throw up,” Yunho laughs; Jaejoong on the other hand doesn’t feel much like it.
“C’mon, show some confidence in yourself!” the composer grabs Jaejoong’s forearm, and squeezes it. Before really thinking, Jaejoong puts his other hand over Yunho’s, squeezing it back.
“I’m really, really scared, Yunho”.
“Don’t be. You are amazing, Jaejoong, really. Trust me on this,” not sure how it happened, but now they’re both holding hands, fingers intertwining, and so close that Jaejoong can see the shadow of Yunho’s eyes behind the dark glasses.
“I trust you, I always do,” he whispers.
“Then, don’t be afraid. Go out there and leave them all speechless. I’ll be right next to you, shielding you,” Yunho’s smile is so warm, so tender, it makes Jaejoong want to cry for the unreachable.
“With the sunglasses?” he’s said it with such a sad voice, and sure he is even pouting, he can’t avoid laughing at the stupidity of the question in such a nerve-wrecking situation. Yunho laughs with him.
“I am VIP, I can perform with sunglasses on and nobody complains,” the composer smirks, squeezing Jaejoong’s hand.
“I don’t get it. You’re afraid of showing yourself, still you go out there to play the piano in front of a crowd...,”
“I’m covering the part I don’t want to be seen, and I’ll be facing the other way. It’s not comfortable, but I prefer this than not being able to perform in any way ever again” Jaejoong is speechless. Here he is, without any physical problem (because it’s more than clear for Jaejoong by now that what Yunho suffers is a huge complex caused by some physical damage on his face, or malformation, or something like that), supposedly able to do a wonderful job, and scared about it. And Yunho, with all his fears and insecurities is going to be there on the stage, playing his loved instruments, because that is reason enough to be strong and face some fears. It’s official, Kim Jaejoong is an idiot.
“I’m sorry Yunho. I won’t complain anymore,” he is suddenly filled with a strength new to him.
“Complain all you want, I’m here to help,”
“Oh, don’t worry, you’ve helped me like you won’t even know, right now,” Jaejoong squeezes Yunho's hand for the last time and lets go of it. “Don’t you have to go on stage soon?”
“Yes, I’m playing the organ in a Bach mass song after this one” Yunho nods, and stands up. “See you in a few”
“Good luck, phantom”
“Thank you, monsieur”
Yunho is gone upstairs. Jaejoong laughs at the joke that simply doesn’t get old (even if he is worried thinking it could be a little too close to home in Yunho’s case), and waits until it’s his show time, more confident than ever. He is not going to fail Yunho. He is not going to fail himself.
♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪
PART II
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