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Chan is home.
Or perhaps home is an overstatement.
He’s home, he hears the familiar notes from the piano in the corner, he smells the leathery surfaces of the sofas, the endless glasses of best whiskeys and wines, the laughter reverberates softly across the many rooms of the jazz bar. He is home from tour, he has returned to his own little city, the one where he grew up in, and now he’s home. At the jazz bar a few blocks away from his apartment, a few blocks from the academy he was practically raised in. That academy has given him everything. Chan owes his everything to it.
See, Chan is home, but not really. The bar that surrounds him, lures him in as he steps through the door is familiar, it is what he’s supposed to call home. The smile the bartender flashes him is familiar, too, followed by a;
“Our boy is home! How was the tour, Chris? Met any important people?”
“Too many to name them all”, Chan cracks them a smile that isn’t genuine. It’s the truth, he has met so many people who are deemed as important but he remembers none of the names. He’s not good with names, overall, but more so he simply doesn’t care anymore.
He gets his usual, a whiskey, from the more expensive side, he can afford it. He can afford anything, the world, if he wants to. “Chris, you have them all wrapped around your pinky, you can reach the stars”, that’s what his teacher told him a few years ago. And look at him now, now he has them all wrapped around his pinky, he gets offers from all around the world, come play to us, we pay you a good amount. And then Chan goes, because his manager tells him to.
Chan glances around the jazz bar, it’s not crowded, luckily, after all, it’s Tuesday evening. It’s Tuesday evening, 30th of December, Christmas has just passed, and the year is just about to turn to another one. Chan avoids any and all eye contact, the people don’t recognize him, of course they don’t, no one does until Chan takes a hold of his violin. Chan himself recognizes a few faces, but he doesn’t feel like talking to anyone, he doesn’t want to talk to anyone, and that’s why he slowly makes his way towards the dark corner in the jazz bar, far away from anyone.
Except the piano player at the back wall. Chan doesn’t mind him, he plays well enough.
He sets his drink on the table before taking off his long, black coat and hanging it on the coat rack next to his table. He sits down, the leathery armchair is soft, it pulls him in its embrace, and Chan knows he won’t be able to get up for the next few hours. He’s home now, he’s comfortable, at least sort of. More comfortable than he’s been in the past half of a year. You see, he’s been on tour for the last months. Flying from country to country in business classes, drinking champagne and faking too many smiles. After the tour he quickly flew to his mother for Christmas, and now he’s back home, arrived a day ago back to his own little city, among the familiar faces and buildings. That’s how it is, the life of a world-star violinist. Best of the best. He’s played to thousands of people in the span of six months, the halls he has played in have been booked full, and people have paid hundreds just to watch him play from the front seats.
And now he’s tired. Christ, he’s tired. Exhausted. He has given his all, and now he finally has been given the permission to rest.
Except that he can’t. He’s not capable of doing that. Not when he knows what’s to come, what’s waiting for him in the next year.
There’s a lit candle in a glass holder on the table in front of him. Behind his back, on the dark red painted walls are dimmed, warm lights, that draw long shadows on the floors of the bar. There’s a couple sitting across the room, completely enchanted by each other. Before Chan would have felt perhaps a little jealous, but now he feels nothing. He’s not sure if he’s glad about that. The huge windows on the other wall of the bar are all covered with thick, velvety curtains. Or perhaps he could say it’s a glass wall, not windows. The floor is dark wood, it looks almost black. The armchairs and sofas are deep brown. It is dark, but not enough for Chan not to see the empty pages in his notebook that he’s pulled from the chest pocket of his suit jacket. He always wears it. It is expected of him. He’s paired it with a red dress shirt and black jeans. Those are not expected of him, he’s usually expected a white dress shirt and some slacks. But Chan isn’t here to perform, so he can wear whatever the hell he wants.
Yet he still finds it hard to let go of what’s expected of him.
Chan takes a sip from his whiskey, it burns his throat, he opens the notebook to an empty page. There are a few pages already full of anything. Everything. Mostly large crosses over notes that he doesn’t like. Nothing sounds good to him. Nothing.
See, Chan is a feeler. He feels, and when he does, he feels deeply. He feels, he feels, and he feels, and from those feelings, he draws his everything. His notes. His music. He writes of his feelings. He writes of nothing but his feelings.
And the thing is, he hasn’t felt anything in a long time. He doesn’t feel anymore. He lives in apathy, from one day to another, there’s nothing but greyness around him. In him. He doesn’t feel. And so, he doesn’t create. He doesn’t compose. He doesn’t write music.
And that’s what scares him. He’s afraid of the notebook on the table in front of him. He doesn’t even try to pick up the matte black pen that he bought with the notebook, because he is afraid of it. He’s afraid that once again, when he grabs that pen, he has to drop it without being able to create anything. He knows that the notes won’t come to him. They never do these days.
Because he doesn’t feel. He doesn’t feel, and that’s why he’s not capable of creating.
He has lost his inspiration.
He has lost his passion.
Chan sighs. He closes the notebook, drinks the rest of the whiskey in one go, nearly coughs at the burn. The notes won’t come to him. He’s sick of trying, he’s tired, exhausted, passionless, the bar makes him anxious. He tugs the small notebook in his pocket, rises up and takes his jacket. As he puts it on, he hears an oddity, a discord in the music. The player has pressed the wrong key, Chan knows the song, in fact, he’s played it multiple times with his violin, so many times that he isn’t capable of playing it wrong. He glances at the grand piano standing on a little stage at the back wall. There’s a boy sitting behind it, seemingly immersed in music. He has a little crease in between his eyebrows, but then he glances at Chan, and Chan realizes he isn’t really all that focused on his playing. There’s another discord in the music as his eyes meet the boy’s.
Chan presses one of the buttons in his jacket close. He snorts, just slightly, and then turns away from the piano player. He lets his feet carry him away from the place he has so often referred to as his home.
***
Last day of December. Chan sighs as he steps in the elevator and presses the button down to the street level. He pulls his fluffy scarf better around his neck, buries his nose in it. He stares at his feet, the glass walls of the elevator make him uncomfortable. As the elevator stops and the doors open, Chan steps out, nods at the security sitting behind the desk, before he walks across the corridor and pushes the huge glass doors open. The cold hits him in the face, makes his eyes water.
His leathery shoes slip a little on the ice that has formed on the street. Faux leather, of course, he doesn’t want real leather anywhere near him. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his coat, the slight wind tugs his curly locks away from his face. He should be happy, Chan knows it, it’s only a few hours until the next year, after all!
But he isn’t, and he can’t help that. There are people everywhere, someone bumps against Chan’s shoulder and profusely apologizes, Chan only shakes his head at them; “It’s alright, no worries”, and continues his travel. Where? He isn’t entirely sure either.
Or perhaps he is. After all, his feet decide to make him travel the same, all so familiar journey, towards the jazz bar. Towards his home. The other home. There are couples making their way towards the fancy restaurants at the center of the city, there are groups of friends heading towards bars and clubs, and a few families perhaps heading to join with their loved ones. Chan’s mother had told him to stay, too, but Chan had decided different. He needed time. He needs time. Just for himself, he hasn’t been able to rest in a year.
Halfway along the familiar streets snow starts falling from the sky, clinging on to Chan’s coat. A dog barks at him, Chan smiles slightly at it. Dogs are cute, he loves dogs, he wishes to adopt one for himself one day, but he doesn’t have time yet. Maybe in ten years after his stardom is gone.
Chan turns to a familiar street, opens another glass door, nods at the staff at the desk in the front and walks up to another elevator. The doors slide open, Chan thanks the gods that the elevator isn’t made of glass like in his apartment building. He presses the button to the highest floor. The jazz bar is situated at the top floor of a sort of a hotel-office building. There’s a lot going on in that building, and Chan isn’t sure of its core function, what it is meant for. The elevator moves, Chan feels the pressure in his ears.
Soon the doors slide open, and he’s met with a cacophony of sounds, talking, laughing, piano music resonating from the corner of the bar. Chan pulls down his scarf, not because he wants to, but because he has to – and then he gets an armful of greetings.
“Chris! Welcome back!”
“Hey, our boy has returned! How was the tour?”
“I thought you would spend your holidays with your family! What brought you here?”
“Welcome back, Chris!”
“Do join us, Chris!”
Chan shakes hands and his head and smiles and greets and smiles a little more, turns down at least three offers to sit on someone’s table to spend the night, and finally he makes it to the bar counter. He didn’t want to pull the scarf down for exactly that reason – he didn’t want to be recognized. But it would have been odd, if someone were to recognize him later, and he hadn’t greeted anyone. So he had to do it.
“The usual?” The bartender asks, Chan flashes them a smile.
“Not this time. Some red wine, please?” Chan doesn’t feel like drinking whiskey this evening. He gets his red wine, flashes the card on the reader and turns around. He looks for an empty place.
And finds one. In the same corner he had sat last time. He makes his way quietly there, has to shake a few more hands, before he finally gets to place his glass of wine on that little table at the corner. He takes off his scarf and coat, places them on that same coat rack, before the soft armchair engulfs him in again. Chan sighs, places the notebook in front of him on the table once again, even if he damn well knows he won’t do anything with it.
The jazz bar isn’t entirely full yet. Chan knows it will most likely be, as it is one of the best places in the city to view the fireworks. The curtains have been drawn from the windows at the opposite wall to Chan. The sight from that wall is… perfect. It’s the nightly view of the city from above, glimmering and glittering underneath a soft coat of snow. Everywhere Chan looks, he sees some sort of lights dancing against the darkness of the evening. Billboards, Christmas lights, rear lights of cars as they drive along the streets. The center of the city is right beneath Chan’s feet. It should make him feel powerful, unreachable, but it doesn’t.
It doesn’t, Chan sighs as he takes a sip of his red wine. It’s good, the bartender knows what kind of wine Chan likes. More people come in through the door, all of them are dressed in fancy clothing, suits and formals and evening dresses and sparkles (but not too excessively). Chan doesn’t differ from them, only his dress shirt is red and made of silk, not a white one.
And then yet another person recognizes him, pulls a stool in front of his little corner table and Chan doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he wants to be alone. After all, he also recognizes the person, it’s Seungmin, a cellist from the same academy Chan studied music in. He’s a good one, plays for the national philharmonic orchestra. Seungmin has a friend with him, he’s called Hyunjin, and he apparently doesn’t play. “He’s a photographer. Travels with us”, Seungmin explains, and he looks at Hyunjin with stars in his eyes. Chan knows that look, and he’s happy for his friend. He should keep in touch with him more often.
They chat for a bit, before Hyunjin taps Seungmin on the shoulder and reminds him that he still wants to see the park before the fireworks, so Seungmin bids Chan farewell, and then they leave. And Chan is alone again, that’s how he prefers it these days.
It hasn’t always been like that.
Chan lets his gaze wander, he’s safe at the corner of the jazz bar, no one pays him any attention. All the attention is on the other people and their own companions, Chan is quite sure he is the only odd one out, the only lonely soul there tonight.
Apart from the piano player next to his corner. Chan lets his eyes travel to him, and he realizes that it is the same boy from yesterday. He’s dressed quite a bit fancier this time, he has a white dress shirt on, and a black waistcoat over that, that’s how much Chan can tell from his corner. His blond hair is pushed back from the other side. His gaze doesn’t budge from the notes in front of him, as his fingers delicately travel over the keys of the piano. Enchanting, in a certain way.
Laughter pierces through the air, brings Chan back to the present. He opens his notebook on an empty page, writes a few notes, before he realizes that he’s only writing the notes that he hears – not the production of his own mind. However, he doesn’t recognize the song, either, so he figures it must be the pianist’s own work. Chan listens to it and comes to a conclusion that it is good. He’s good. The song is good. Perhaps not groundbreaking, but it has a feeling to it. It’s original. The pianist clearly knows what he’s doing.
Of course he does, he’s most likely from the academy. All the players in the jazz bar are, because students are cheaper to get, but good enough to play at such a level that those who don’t know all that much about music won’t recognize them not to be professional players. Or well, they are professional, they have got into the academy, they just don’t have the degree yet.
Chan only realizes he’s staring when the pianist looks up, and a shocked expression spreads over his features. This time, however, he doesn’t mess up the song. Good. He’s collected himself. If he plans on playing in the big league, he has to handle world stars listening to him play.
Hah, world stars. As if that were a word Chan would use to describe himself.
He’s just an ordinary human who knows how to play violin rather well. And he’s only a world star in certain circles, he doesn’t have paparazzi running after him, nor does he end up in the tabloids for the gossip-hungry vultures to feast on.
The clock strikes eleven, Chan turns his gaze back to his notes. He writes a few more, realizes that again, they are not his own, but he doesn’t mind it. At least he’s writing. But not for long, as a new person approaches him, an older man with a fancy lady by his side, and then Chan has to entertain them by answering to their questions and taking a picture with them. It’s one of the professors from the academy, Chan doesn’t remember him, but apparently the professor does, because he keeps telling his companion how he taught Chan a few years back. Chan simply smiles, even if he’s sure that the man has never taught him anything. He doesn’t have the heart to blow his cover.
The minutes bleed into half an hour, until the music stops. Another person, dressed in a similar way as the pianist, walks up to the piano. The boy who had been playing takes his notes, nods and smiles at the other person, and then lets them take over the piano. The person is most likely a professional player the bar has hired for the rest of the night, since, after all, it is the New Year’s party, and everything has to be perfect. Chan thinks he’s seen the person’s face before, could be from the national philharmonic, or from somewhere else.
There’s tension in the air, the blond pianist disappears at the back of the bar, and Chan forgets about him. The midnight approaches, he can feel the excitement build up around him. The bar is finally packed, someone steals the stool from in front of Chan’s table (thank god, now no one can sit on it and bother him for the rest of the night). His phone beeps, it’s a message from his mother, Chan answers to it with a “Happy New Year to you, too” and puts it back in his pocket. For a moment he thinks about getting a new glass of wine, and then:
“Um. Hi. You’re Christopher Bang, right?”
Chan turns his gaze from his notebook to the boy that has suddenly approached him. Ah, it’s the pianist.
“You are correct”, Chan mumbles over the music.
“Great! I mean, I-, uhm”, the blond boy stammers, “May I sit down?”
Chan nearly snorts, but only nods towards the emptiness at the other side of the table. The pianist is clearly a resourceful one, because before Chan has time to say anything, he’s scuttled to the other side of the bar and fetched himself a chair. He places it on the other side of the table and sits down hastily. His dress shirt is a little too big on him, Chan notices.
“I just, um, I recognized you yesterday when you dropped by the bar and, uhm,” Quite as Chan had guessed, that had been the reason for the little discord in the song two days ago; “I didn’t get the chance to say anything back then because I was playing but, uhm, I just really wanted to tell you that you’re amazing and your music is amazing and you’re just, uh, really inspiring in general. Um, yeah. You play really well. I wish I could play violin that well but, uh, I happen to play the piano, so I will never, I do like piano but like, it’s very popular and so on and. Um. Yeah.”
Chan simply stares at the boy with a cocked eyebrow, the mostly empty wine glass in his hand. What an outburst. What a character this little pianist is.
“Oh, oh, I’m Felix, by the way”, the boy sticks his hand out, flashes a heartwarming smile at Chan. Chan takes his hand and shakes it.
“Well, uhm, thank you, Felix. I’m glad you enjoy my playing.” It’s almost like a mantra to him nowadays. He always says it, there’s really no feeling to it. Of course he’s thankful, he enjoys the praise as anyone would, he likes that his talent is recognized but… Well, he’s got a little used to it, if one could say so.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Christopher, may I call you Christopher? That’s what they call you in the academy. I mean, I’m in there, too, I got in three years ago, so I still have a two years ahead of me, but you’re quite the talk there, naturally, as are all the others that have graduated there and went to perform with the big league, but my professor, miss Park is especially fond of you and she talks about you a lot and…” This boy just keeps on talking, doesn’t he? Wow. Chan simply nods as the pianist, Felix, babbles on and on, he doesn’t have the heart to stop him and correct him that no, people don’t really call him Christopher but Chris, and all of his friends call him Chan, but he doesn’t do that.
“Are you writing music right now?” Felix nods at the notebook in front of Chan.
“Not really. Just uh… well, not really”, Chan answers. Technically he is writing music, only it isn’t his, but Felix’s. Felix is just about to ask something, but Chan is quicker:
“The music you were just playing, was it yours? I didn’t recognize the songs.”
Felix’s eyes seem to widen for a moment, before he remembers where he is.
“Y-yes, it was mine. I, uhm, I’ve composed it. Them. The songs. They’re mine.”
It’s endearing, in a way, Felix’s stumbling and stammering.
“They’re good songs. You have talent in you.”
“O-oh, t-thank you, very much, uhm did you, did-“
But Felix is interrupted, as suddenly the tension around them seems to explode in a million little fireworks that suddenly fill the night sky. Felix squeaks and turns around on his stool, he clearly got scared by the yelling and the fireworks filling the skyline. And so, the year has turned into another one, and before it would have filled Chan with nostalgia and longing for something long gone past with the excitement of the future, but this time Chan feels nothing. Just emptiness. He stares at the fireworks, drinks the rest of his wine quietly. There’s laughter around him, singing, the piano playing has stopped, too, just to celebrate the passage of time.
Soon the light show ends, and the atmosphere has turned into a jolly one. Felix turns on his stool, just as a “Felix!” is yelled from somewhere at the other side of the bar, where another boy is waving his arm. Felix nods and turns his gaze back to Chan, clearly a little torn, clearly still a little jumpy by the sudden noises.
“Uhm, it seems like I have to go already, well, good talk, it was very nice to talk to you, Christopher, I hope our paths will cross in the future, too”, Felix smiles as he stands up from his stool, and takes the little bag he has with him from the floor. Chan flashes him an expression something akin to a smile:
“It was very nice to meet you too, Felix. Happy New Year.”
And then, with a beaming smile and a nod and a “Happy New Year to you, too”, he’s gone, and Chan is left alone in his little corner once again.
***
It’s laughable, really, because Chan once again steps into that same elevator that takes him to the jazz bar, above the city, close to the clouds (or that’s at least how it feels). It’s not really all that late, the sky is still painted orange, the sun nothing but a sliver of light above the horizon anymore, there won’t be that many people in the bar. Chan just wants something to do, he doesn’t feel like being trapped in his own home with his violin staring at him from across the room, begging for him to play it, create new songs, or relearn to play the old ones.
See, he’s a classical violinist, so he really doesn’t need to create new music. However. that creation is one of his outlets, one of his ways to convey feelings to the world. He could just simply play music just as fine, just learn some Vivaldi and play that in front of the audience and get applause for that, but something would be amiss – and has been amiss for quite some time now – the feeling. Chan feels when he creates, and if he doesn’t feel, he doesn’t create, and that creation is how he brings his own self to the music he plays, even if it isn’t his own writing. That feeling, that creation is what in that moment makes the music his own.
But he dwells in apathy, he doesn’t create, and he isn’t capable of playing his violin like he has been. Of course, to the unprofessional ear, it all sounds the same. To Chan, it doesn’t. There’s no passion. There’s no soul in his playing.
Chan nods at the guard at the door and steps into the jazz bar once again. The dim lights welcome him, envelope him into their soft and gentle embrace. Chan knows he has an hour, maybe two before Minho gets off from work, and then they will most likely head to a bar somewhere else.
“Just a coffee, please”, Chan tells the bartender, who is different this time, and doesn’t immediately recognize Chan. When she does, a puzzled expression flashes over her features. Chan gets his coffee and finds himself into that same corner. Someone is playing the piano again, but it isn’t that same blond pianist that had been playing on New Year’s Eve. Felix, didn’t he say that to be his name? Chan isn’t quite sure, he’s never been that good with names.
Once again Chan sets his notebook and coffee in front of him, sits back and relaxes on the armchair. The curtains have been drawn in front of the huge glass windows again, so the jazz bar feels like it’s one of those underground ones. One of those ones, that Chan actually prefers. There’s more feeling in them, there are those who actually love music and aren’t there just for the sake of being fancy. Why doesn’t Chan just go to those ones then? He doesn’t really know. He’s just used to sitting in the same corner in that same jazz bar, and he doesn’t have the courage in him to change his routines. Change his normal. Besides, those bars are loud, full of life, he can’t write in them.
Hah. As if he would in the current jazz bar.
Chan’s phone buzzes, Changbin sends him a message, he’ll join him and Minho this evening. Chan wonders if anything has changed between Minho and Changbin, a year ago Changbin had confessed to Chan that he had (still has) a horrible crush on Minho, but Minho had been dating another person back then. They had broken up last summer, though, so now Minho isn’t dating anyone, and Changbin has another chance. If Minho is willing to give Changbin a chance. Chan sort of hopes he is, they both deserve each other, and Chan is sick of hearing about Changbin’s yearning for Minho.
Or perhaps not that sick, he hasn’t seen Changbin since summer, even if they from time to time talk on the phone, so he hasn’t had to listen to Changbin’s monologue of the stars in Minho’s eyes that much lately. He does miss the boy, he’s so comforting to be around, and his stories of his clientele are so fun to listen to. He works as a florist, you see, he gets to face so many people that are about to experience different kinds of big events in their lives, he always has such good stories to tell. Minho doesn’t have them so much, but he’s all good fun in other ways, and he loves to complain about his boss. He works at an IT firm, so Chan and two of his friends always have quite a bit to talk about when they meet up since they work in such different fields. Jesus, he misses them. He hadn’t even realized it but damn, he really looks forward to meeting them. He hopes that he’ll get to see them more this year since his touring is over for a while.
“Uhm, hey!” A somewhat familiarly low voice snaps Chan out of his thoughts. Chan looks up, and he’s a little taken aback, because in front of him stands that same pianist once again.
“Oh, hey”, Chan mutters. Felix looks a lot less formal this time, he’s wearing a dark woolly turtleneck and slacks. He has glasses on, and Chan swear could swear he wasn’t wearing those the last time.
“May I…?” Felix nods towards the chair in front of Chan’s table. Chan nods, of course, he really has no other option, he can’t afford to be rude. He just… can’t really understand why Felix wants to sit with him.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the academy?” Chan asks. He can remember that Felix had mentioned the academy, and from personal experience he knows, that the academy classes aren’t over yet. It’s Wednesday, after all, and after the classes students still have extracurricular activities to attend to.
“Oh, uhm, I guess. My performance starts in half an hour”, Felix nods towards the piano; “and they’re probably going to drop me out, anyway.”
Oh. Chan raises his eyebrow, a bit questioning:
“How so?” He’s good, he’s heard this Felix boy play, he knows his piano.
“I don’t fit in their criteria.”
“Ah.”
The criteria, of course. Usually academies encourage people to pursue the kind of music the students themselves prefer, but not their one, oh no. They prefer classical over everything else, and if the students don’t like that… well, they’re on their own then. Lucky for Chan, he’s always liked the classical violin.
“I prefer writing my own pieces and loathe playing their dusty old ass songs and they don’t like that”, Felix mumbles, before somewhat of a terrified look masks over his face: “Oh, I mean, there- there’s nothing wrong with old compositions, they’re just as fine, just, uhm, not my style.”
Chan watches the boy’s rambling with a small grin tugging the corner of his mouth.
“It’s alright, they are pretty dusty old ass songs”, he muses. Blush dusts over Felix’s cheeks.
“What are you doing here, by the way? I thought a world star like you would have better things to do than sit in a jazz bar on Wednesday evening.”
“Killing time. I’m meeting my friends in a few.”
“Ah. I see.”
Chan wants to ask why Felix wants to sit with him again. He doesn’t, he doesn’t know how to bring it up. Words have never been his thing. Felix’s gaze bounces from Chan to the table, to his notebook, to the wall, to the lamp behind Chan’s back, before it returns to Chan. He fiddles the hem of his jacket, the strap of his bag has dropped from his shoulder.
“Do they still pay only the tips here for playing?” Chan asks, just out of pure curiosity. He remembers it, how he himself used to play on that stage at the beginning of his academy career. He played piano more back then, now he plays only violin.
“Yup. Not all that good money. I get better pay if I play in the less luxurious ones at the side streets. But this one looks better on the CV.”
Chan nods. He knows that feeling.
“Did you play here?” Felix asks. Chan nods again.
“Oh? Did you play piano or violin or…?”
“Piano. I rarely performed with violin back then in such places as these. Piano fits better in environments like these, violin is meant for the greater audiences that actually listen.” Chan knows he sounds rather arrogant, but he knows that Felix understands. And he does, he nods.
“That’s cool! I mean, obviously you know how to play piano, but I would have thought you never uh… played in such small places as this one.”
“No one is a star when they’re born. I had to work my way up.” And become Lady Fortune’s favorite. Not everyone who has the talent becomes the next world star. It’s mostly about luck. About personality. About the people you meet.
“That’s what they always say… Man, if I just had someone to, I don’t know, just introduce me to someone and I could try to get myself some connections, that would be amazing. It’s so hard to make it in the music industry these days. Especially if you want to play piano and not join the philharmonic.”
Chan feels the coffee in his mouth turn awfully bitter.
And again, he’s the victim of his own blindness. Of course, why else would this Felix boy suddenly come talk to him at a jazz bar after recognizing him? It’s all about the connections. It’s always about the connections. No one wants to get to know Chan anymore, they just want to advance themselves in the stepladder that is their musical career.
As if on cue, Chan’s phone buzzes, Changbin’s name flashes on the screen, “I’m off, I’ll be there in fifteen” says the message. Chan knows his usually kind face has turned into a stern one, and he watches as realization flashes over Felix’s face – he’s noticed his own error.
“I’m afraid I need to go, my friends are waiting for me. Unfortunately for you, I’m over with people trying to use me as a leverage to get into the industry.” Chan rises up and puts his coat on hastily, before he tugs his notebook in his pocket.
“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that –“, Felix looks puzzled, and slightly panicked.
“Goodbye, Felix. I’m sure you have the talent and the skills to succeed.” And with that, Chan is off, and soon the elevator doors close behind him once again and Felix is left sitting on the seat at the corner of the jazz bar.
***
The restaurant is full, Minho laughs, Changbin laughs harder. No one recognizes Chan, which isn’t all that odd, but he’s thankful for it nevertheless, he doesn’t feel like sharing ungenuine smiles this evening. Luckily Changbin’s and Minho’s company make him smile, genuinely, two of the very few ones who he lets through the walls he’s formed around him. Or well, he hasn’t really intentionally formed them, they have just… appeared. And automatically, when Chan spends time with his two besties, those walls are dropped. He doesn’t shy away from their company, not after all the years of their friendship.
“Can you believe? I had to remake the whole order, just because the wife wanted blue roses instead of pink ones, even if she had ordered the blue ones, and I know this because my memory never betrays me!” Changbin, his arms flailing, explains. Minho has laughter in his eyes, and those stars Changbin has so raved about. The two of them should get a room. Perhaps Chan would have to nudge Changbin to the right direction a little. But not tonight.
One thing Chan is very grateful for his friends is that they don’t really ask him about his tours and concerts and so on, not because they don’t care or find it interesting, but because they know that Chan is tired, and has been for quite some time. He wants to get his mind off of those things, not to talk about them, and his friends understand that. He’ll tell them the important parts when he’s ready, and most of them they already know, after all, they often Facetime each other during the times Chan is away, and that’s when Chan usually tells them everything.
Everything, except that Chan has lost his passion and he doesn’t know what to do. Sure, his friends know he’s tired, but they don’t know what and why he’s tired. And what it has caused him.
The restaurant they’re at is nice, it’s fully booked, but not one of those high-end ones. It’s comfortable, Chan likes it, it’s an oddity to his normal. Minho has had one too many beers, he’s moaning about how he’s sick of the computer work, and he’s thinking about applying to study architecture. He’s talented, he has what it takes to make it there.
And Chan would love to add into the conversations, but his mind wanders. It wanders back to the jazz bar, back into that pianist boy, who had looked so shocked, when Chan had left him there, sitting on that stool in the corner of the bar. And again, Chan gets that icky feeling, the one he’s felt so many times before. He should be used to it by now, people try all the time to get to know him and use him to get to the better circles. Why would the pianist boy be any different? After all, he said it himself, the academy has really nothing to offer to him, so he has to find another way to get himself into the industry. But in order to do that, he has to stand out.
Of course, Chan knows people who could help him. Who could teach him some things that could make him even a better pianist. He even knows a guy who might offer the pianist boy an actual deal to play in his restaurant, and it’s quite a high-end one, and he pays well. But he’s sick of doing things for people and getting nothing in return, he’s sick of being used just as a stepping stone, even if he damn well knows that’s how the industry works. Disappointing. Really. For once Chan would just like someone who would understand music as much as he did, and actually perceive him as a person and not as a leverage to the stars.
Chan laughs at something Changbin says, then orders himself another beer. Their night is going to be a long one, Chan can feel it, because Changbin doesn’t give a damn once he gets down his second glass of cheap white wine if his work shifts starts at eight in the morning, and Minho has a flexitime system in his workplace. And Chan doesn’t have anywhere to be next morning, so really, what’s stopping them?
Chan decides not to think about Felix anymore. Just another social climber, who Chan doesn’t want into his life. Minho orders them shots, and all of a sudden, the minutes start bleeding into hours.
***
January turns into February smoothly and softly. Chan finds himself spending more time with Minho and Changbin at Changbin’s flower shop now that Minho has his winter break from work. Something is indeed going on between them, there’s slowly a little spark igniting, and Chan finds himself happy, and a bit jealous.
Jealous of what? He doesn’t really crave for love, so that can’t be it.
The rest of the time he spends seeking for his lost inspiration. He doesn’t find it, and that doesn’t surprise him the least bit. Thankfully he’s able to drown his anxiety in his friends’ laughter and too long nights way too hasty mornings.
He’s already had a few inquiries, Chan, how’s the next tour, when is it, when are you going to play for us, but Chan doesn’t answer those inquiries. See, he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to tour. He doesn’t want to play. Not without his passion.
“I need time to think. To arrange my thoughts”, that’s what he says to his manager, who’s getting impatient, she wants an answer, she wants to know the plans for the upcoming year. Chan is stalling, they both know it.
The iciness of February freezes the tips of Chan’s fingers, he forgot to bring mittens with him on his evening stroll. His toes tingle, too, the leathery shoes aren’t made for the winter and he should know better already. And he does, he just doesn’t find it in himself to go and buy proper winter shoes, the cold season is going to be over soon, anyway. That’s how he justifies it to himself every year, and every year he knows the winter is going to be just as cold and his toes will freeze just as bad, but he just doesn’t learn.
The park is unusually quiet, Chan walks through it without a haste. The rather large pond in the middle of it is frozen, and there are skate marks all over it. Chan follows the trail along the pond, before his feet lead him to the street surrounding the park. The buildings, the park, the streets, they’re all so familiar to Chan, he’s grown in the middle of them, the academy is only a few blocks away, so is his home. His home had used to be the other way, he had lived in one of the dormitories the academy provided for them, but now he has his own apartment, in one of those high buildings a few blocks away, new and so modern Chan sometimes fears the technology is going to leave him behind.
And so is familiar the route that Chan follows, in through the glass doors, into the elevator, a nod and a thank you to the guard who opens him the door to the familiarity of the jazz bar. Chan nods at a few people that recognize him, but don’t, luckily, try to initiate any conversation. The bartender is the same, Chan orders a coffee, it’s not that late yet, and he doesn’t really feel like drinking. Why is he here again? Old habits die really hard, apparently.
His corner is empty, as it is most times. People rarely come to the jazz bar alone, or in pairs, it’s usually a bigger group, and so the small tables are left empty, or pushed together. And it’s Tuesday night, after all, there won’t be many people in the bar tonight, and that’s why Chan scuttles over to his seat and peels off his thick winter coat. He shudders a bit, the tip of his nose is cold, he forgot his scarf at home, too. Yeah, he’s been in his head far too much lately. He needs to get out.
The notebook is on the table again, Chan always carries it with him wherever he goes. There’s a pianist playing again, a girl, quite a young one. Most likely from the younger end of the academy. She’s good, she’ll reach stardom, Chan is sure of it. The curtains are drawn, the bar is quiet apart from the music playing, the lights are dimmed. Chan likes the ambience, the velvety atmosphere that surrounds him.
Then the ambience is broken. Chan is deep in his thoughts, and then someone breaks that train of thought by setting a glass of white wine in front of him. Chan raises his gaze from the table, a questioning expression on his face, and he meets the determined eyes of that pianist boy. Felix. Annoyance tugs Chan’s chest, it’s been a month since he saw the boy’s face last time, and he had nearly forgotten it.
“Can I help you?” Chan asks, he knows the annoyance is written all over his posture.
“Yes. You can listen to me.” Felix pulls himself a chair from the next table and sits in front of Chan. Chan glances at the wine glasses in front of him, and Felix.
Felix swallows, the determination on his face seems to falter for a moment. He opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again. Chan cocks his eyebrow, he’s waiting to hear why the boy had decided to disrupt his peace once again.
“I’m not trying to use you as a leverage or a ladder to wealth and stardom”, he finally mutters. Chan scoffs, yeah, right.
“I’m serious.”
“Sure you are.”
“I am!”
A silence, Felix swallows, Chan can see him visibly weighing his words.
“I know you have probably met a lot of people like that, but I am not one of them. You probably have a lot of people tell you that they aren’t one of them, too, but I swear I’m not like them. I am not looking for anything that you can give me, I am capable of creating my own way to the stars. I do not need you to help me with that.”
“Then why did you come to talk to me in the first place?” Chan asks. Once again Felix falls silent for a moment.
“Because you said you wanted a friend.”
Huh?
“And where have I said that?”
“In one of your interviews. You said that it gets lonely at the top.”
Chan remembers the interview. It was one of those ‘get to know the real Christopher behind the violin’ -ones.
“Don’t believe everything you read from those articles.”
“Are you saying you lied in it? You show up in this bar every other day, alone. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. And you do it in the evenings, which are also known as the times people usually spend with their friends. Everyone in the industry says you prefer to work alone, unless you’re working with Jeongin, also known as the piano prodigy who plays your violin sonatas with you. The professors at the academy also call you a lone wolf, you never quite fit into the orchestras, you stood out too much back when you were still a student. You live alone, that’s what you have also said, and you aren’t dating anyone. Did you really lie when you said that it gets lonely at the top?”
Wow. This boy just has to rub it in Chan’s face that he, indeed, is lonely. The interviews aren’t lying. Chan isn’t lying in them. Where’s the stuttering and muttering? Was that just a façade?
“You seem awfully up to date with my interviews.” Great work, Chan, perhaps he’s just trying to be your friend and you keep pushing him away.
“Get off your high horse. I don’t even have to read them, I hear all about them in the corridors of the academy. You’re a star, or did you already forget that, too?”
“That still doesn’t quite answer the question as to why you’re offering me a glass of cheap white wine and sitting in front of me this very evening, nor does it answer to the question why you approached me in the first place, does it?”
Felix huffs, rolls his eyes.
“How do you know it’s cheap white wine? It could be the best this place has to offer.”
“Please, I know how bad they pay you for playing here, you get half the pay professionals do, plus the tip, you told it to me yourself, remember? You don’t have the money for the best wine this place has to offer.”
“You haven’t even tasted it.”
“I don’t need to.”
“They all taste the same, anyway. And you have stated in your interviews that you don’t taste the difference between cheap and expensive wine, they’re the same as long as they do their job and lighten the mood. You don’t care if the wine is cheap or not.”
“You’re right, I don’t. You still haven’t answered my question.”
Felix leans back against the backrest of his chair. He takes his glass of wine and sips from it. Chan can see the tug in the corner of his mouth, he doesn’t really like wine, does he?
“Is it a reason enough that I want to be your friend?”
“No.”
“Fine”, Felix huffs again, puts his glass down: “I’ve read most of your interviews, alright. We share quite a similar view of the world. I prefer to work alone, too. I prefer silence over noise, too. I prefer contemporary over classical any day. Jazz is the best thing music has to offer to the world. Stardom is fleeting, it matters more to leave an imprint than to be forgotten. And all the wines taste just as bad. So no, I don’t want to be your friend because I want to use you for your connections. I want to be your friend because I truly think we have something to offer to each other, and you’re cool, and you won’t look down on me because I want to pursue different music than what the academy wants me to. And you’re cool. I already said that. I want to get to know you as you, not as the Christopher Bang from the stages the professors force us to watch.”
Well.
That’s quite a story. And a convincing one, if Chan is completely honest. It has been some time since Chan has got himself new friends, and he knows that he really needs someone who understands music and sees him as… him, and not as Christopher Bang, the violinist.
But is he ready? Is he ready to open himself up for this… this stranger? Is he ready to let someone into his space that he has kept closed for everyone except his best friends for so long? Is he ready to put himself out there once again, even if it may lead to him hurting again?
Is this Felix boy worth it?
“If you don’t want me to bother you anymore, just say it, and I’ll be gone, and will not try to approach you anymore-“
“I’ll give you one chance”, Chan finally mutters. He takes a deep breath, Felix quiets down: “I’ll give you one chance. I have been used as a leverage one too many times, and I will know if you plan on doing that, too. You have one chance, and if you betray the trust I have given you, you will lose that chance. I’m sick of being used as just a throwaway tool to get in the circles, so I hope you understand, why I’m so reluctant of letting people close.”
Felix nods, with his doe eyes big and fingers fiddling with the cufflinks of his shirt. He just doesn’t stay put, does he?
“I won’t betray your trust, I promise”, he finally mumbles. There’s something incredibly sincere in the boy’s eyes.
“Good”, Chan leans back, and finally takes the glass in front of him. He sips from the wine, and Felix is correct, he doesn’t taste the difference, he has no idea if it’s cheap or expensive wine. Felix’s shoulders seem to loosen up, a gentle smile curls the corners of his mouth.
“Felix!” And just like that, the spell is broken, because the pianist behind the keys has stopped playing, and she calls out to Felix. Chan glances at his watch, it’s nearing six, so he figures it is Felix’s time to play.
“Are you kidding me?” Chan hears Felix mutter under his breath.
“Go, they don’t like it when the music stops playing”, Chan nods towards the piano. Felix sighs and downs the rest of his wine glass in one go. Brave, hopefully not too brave. Felix stands up and straightens a bit the dark dress shirt he’s wearing. It’s a bit worn-out, Chan can see that.
The boy turns towards Chan one more time:
“Uhm, anyway, good talk, I won’t ask your number because you’ll most likely show up here anyways. I usually play from six to eight, or six to seven, depends, really. Uhm, yeah. Good talk, see you around, Christopher.” The determination from him is gone, and he looks a little awkward again, and he stutters a little.
Chan nods: “See you around”, and just as Felix is about to turn away and walk up to the little platform the piano is sitting on, he adds: “It’s Chan, by the way.”
Felix turns back around, a bit shocked expression washing over his features. He doesn’t quite catch on what Chan means.
“My friends usually call me Chan.”
The expression turns into an understanding one, before a wide smile spreads over his features. Heartwarming, really, that’s what the boy’s smile is.
“Chan. Great. See you around, Chan.”
***
“I’m not going to tour this year.”
“You what?!” Chan’s manager shrieks, but Chan can hear it from her voice, she’s seen this coming, she’s seen the change in him.
“I’m not going to tour this fall.”
“I’ve already booked you for multiple shows.”
“But the tickets aren’t being sold yet. Cancel them. I won’t be playing this fall.”
“And what am I going to say? Tell them that you’re being a stubborn artist who needs a moment of solitude?” Chan’s manager has her hands on her hips, as she stands behind her desk in her office space. Chan isn’t the only one who she manages, so Chan won’t feel sorry for taking a break.
“Exactly. You’re going to tell them that I will be canceling for personal reasons.”
“And what might those reasons be?”
Chan leans against the doorway, his hands are in his pockets, he’s dreaded this day, but here he is, telling his manager that he needs a break. It had taken him quite long to make the decision, and it had required one drunken night and Minho’s, as well as Changbin’s support.
“I don’t feel like playing.” I have lost my passion. I don’t feel like picking up the violin and playing my heart out. I can’t convey my feelings on the strings of the violin anymore. Because I don’t feel.
“I can’t tell them that, Chris”, the manager huffs.
“Then don’t. They love a little mystery, and you know that.”
The manager sits down and glances at Chan from underneath her glasses. She tugs one lock of hair behind her ear.
“What about Jeongin? Are you just going to leave him without work? He’s been practicing, you know.”
“I can find him a place to play in. And do you really think there wouldn’t be anyone willing to take him when his CV says he’s worked with me? He’s a prodigy, and even good enough to go solo.”
The manager sighs, rubs her temples. She knows Chan has made up his mind, and there’s really no changing it.
“Alright. Fine. I’ll arrange it. Just make sure you’ll be back on track next spring. I hope that you know that people will start talking.”
“I know. I’m not that big of a celebrity, I can handle it.”
And he can, he’s sure of it. He’s a classical violinist, and not one of those celebrities the tabloids are after. He’ll be fine.
***
He’s not sad about it, yet somehow the melancholy engulfs him as soon as he steps out of the office building. Perhaps he feels an ounce of guilt, too, he’s expected to tour in the fall, and how he’s going against those expectations. His decision also leaves him basically jobless for the moment, and it is a disruption to his normal. He’s a very habitual person, you see, an adaptive one, yes, but he prefers to stick to his habits. Stick to his normal. And his decision is going against his normal, so he doesn’t feel comfortable. He knows he has options, he knows he’s getting royalties for some of his works, he still has plenty of money left and he can survive until his next tour just fine, so it’s not about the money. He just has nothing to do, and it unsettles him a bit. He knows it’s the child of a capitalist society in him, he needs to be useful, to do something all the time. He finds it hard to just relax and take time for himself.
And he wouldn’t normally take that time for himself. He just can’t bring himself to play.
He could ask the academy if they wanted him to teach the kids something. He could give private violin lessons. Or just… do something else. That would be perhaps a little scary. There has never really been space in Chan’s life for anything else than music.
Chan waits for the lights to turn green, walks over the street and heads towards what? He doesn’t really know either. What he does know is that his habits will once again, at some point, drag him through the familiar doors of the jazz bar, into that same corner only for him to disappoint himself again, as he spends his time alone and without creating anything new.
But the universe has different kinds of plans for him, she offers him a disruption to his habits. Chan turns around from a street corner, and someone collides against his shoulder, hard. The person shrieks, as their backpack flies from their hold and papers are scattered all over the snowy street.
“Oh shit, oh shit, I’m so sorry, I should have looked where I was going.”
“It’s alright, I should have been more careful, too”, and not so much in my thoughts.
“Christopher?”
Chan lifts his gaze from the papers that he’s collecting from the ground. And then he realizes that he indeed recognizes that voice.
“Oh. Hi, Felix.” It’s been a little over a week since… that evening.
“Uhm, hey, hi, Christopher- I mean Chan. Sorry for crashing on you.”
Chan watches as the tips of Felix’s ears turn slightly reddish. He picks up a few more papers, which he realizes to be notes, before handing them to the pianist.
“It’s alright, happens even to the best of us”, Chan sends his way a slightly crooked smile. Not one of those ones that reach his eyes.
Carelessly Felix tugs the papers back into his backpack, mumbling a thanks. He looks a little messy, a little ‘I woke up five minutes before eight o’clock class and now it’s five in the evening’. There are dark circles underneath his eyes, so Chan guesses that to be the reason for his messiness. Felix glances at him, Chan pushes his cold hands in his pockets, then he realizes he really doesn’t have anything to say, and the meeting is about to turn awkward. His old habits are tugging him on, c’mon Chan, there’s an empty corner for you in the jazz bar, and you feel like drinking a glass of wine.
But Felix bests his habits.
“Uhm, well, since we happened to run to each other, do you want to go grab a snack? Or I don’t know, get a few drinks or something?” He has a hopeful glimmer in his eyes, his lips curl to a cat-like grin. The habits, Chan, are you going to let this boy take them away from you? Chan blinks a few times, weighs his options, does he want to spend time with Felix? Does he feel like company tonight?
The hopeful glint in Felix’s eyes starts to die out, just as a new voice at the back of Chan’s head tells him to live a little for once.
“Sure”, he finds himself answering.
“Great!” The expression on Felix’s face looks like the spring sun that’s waiting for them a few months ahead; “I know a place just around the corner!”
***
Felix truly knows a place just around the corner. He drags Chan down small granite steps to a little bar-restaurant just below the street level. It’s one of those bars that exude warmth and familiarity, even if one has never stepped with their foot in it. Felix smiles at the bartender as he leads them to a corner table, he’s clearly a familiar face around here. Chan feels a little out of place as he sits on a chair that doesn’t match the other chairs around the small table. Don’t get him wrong, he’s been to places like these ones, he likes places like these, a little peculiar, a little odd, a little quirky yet full of warmth, he’s just used to being in such places with Minho and Changbin, so he feels a little weird.
And he’s wearing a suit, because he had an interview earlier the day. No one else in the bar is wearing a suit. Even Felix is wearing a mustard yellow sweater and some worn-out black jeans. He fits to the interiors.
Oh, well. He’s used to looks, even if they’re odd. Felix sits on the chair opposite to Chan, he pulls the sleeves of his shirt over his fingers. Then he realizes that they’re not in some fancy restaurant, fishes his wallet from his bag and nods towards the bar counter. Chan nods, takes his coat off and walks up to the counter after Felix. He orders a coffee, he should stop drinking coffee, it’s not good for him and it destroys the environment, but he finds it hard to let go of the habit. Felix gets himself fries and a soda, and Chan guesses it’s been a long day for him. Chan gets his coffee before Felix gets his fries, so he retreats back to their table. He scans around the little bar as he’s waiting for the pianist to join him.
To say it’s a little bar is a bit misleading, it isn’t that small, but it’s not a big one either. The walls are painted red, most of the chairs and tables are mismatched, but all of them are earthy colors. There are paintings on the wall, most likely bought from thrift shops, as they don’t match, either. There’s a stage on the other side of the bar, it’s currently empty. This must be one of those places the local bands come to play on weekends. Chan loves these kinds of places. He’s sad he doesn’t get to visit them more often. It’s always fancy restaurants and high-end cocktail bars, except when meeting Minho and Changbin.
Felix returns with his fries and a dip and sits on the chair opposite to Chan again. The air between them is a little awkward, a little stale, but Chan decides he won’t let it bother him.
“How was your day?” He asks just as Felix gets the first fry in his mouth. What a perfect timing, Chan, c’mon, read the room a little.
“Fine. I was nearly late to the morning class and my professor yelled at me because I hadn’t studied enough and now I won’t get a solo for the spring concert but that’s okay because I really didn’t want it because I’m sick of playing Mozart.”
Chan nods, sips his coffee, the five o’clock feels a little heavy on his shoulders.
“Then I was late for the next class because my professor yelled at me, but the rest of the day was just fine, and I have the first free night in like a week so that’s nice. Feels nice. Except I still won’t get to sleep enough because I have a morning class tomorrow.”
“First free night in a week?” Chan raises his eyebrows. This Felix boy really likes working, doesn’t he?
“Yeah. I play in a few other places as well, not just that fancy ass jazz bar. Rent costs money and I’m not studying on a scholarship, so, tuition costs money, too.”
“I see.” Perhaps it makes Chan a little sad, a little worried even, Felix shouldn’t be overworking himself, not when he’s still in the academy. Then again, Chan remembers his own years, they’re still fresh in his memory, he too, had used to work himself to the point he couldn’t find time to sleep in 24 hours, and that had cost him quite a lot. Burnout wasn’t a fun thing to experience, not at the age of twenty.
“How about you? You’re wearing a suit, so I supposed you had something important today, you don’t seem like the type to wear a suit if it’s not for an occasion.”
“I had an interview today, so yes, I only wear suits for an occasion.” And if I go to the jazz bar or any sort of other fancy-ish place because I have forgot how to dress normally. “And it’s been fine. Not too busy.”
“Ah, sounds awfully normal. Was it a good interview?”
“Quite so. Basic. For the local newspaper, they wanted to write a story about their ‘homeboy’, as the interviewer called me.”
A smirk tugs the corners of Felix’s mouth. For a moment Chan recalls what else he’s done today, except for the meeting with his manager. Felix seems to notice the slight change in Chan’s demeanor: “Did something happen?” He asks, as he sips from his soda.
Should he tell him? Then again, what is there to hide? His manager has most likely already put the word forward that he won’t be playing in concerts for personal reasons this year, it’s only a matter of time before the music circles hear about it and start asking questions. It won’t hurt if Felix gets the word a little earlier.
“I uh… I decided today that I won’t be touring this year.”
“Oh?” Felix sounds a little surprised.
“It’s um, personal reasons, so…”
“Oh, oh, don’t worry, you won’t have to tell me! I was just surprised to hear that since your last tour sold so well.” A smile spreads on Felix’s face (it seems like a permanent one now that Chan really thinks about it, he’s seen the boy smile more than anything, except when he focuses on playing, that’s when his face is neutral). It’s a reassuring one.
“Yeah, it did… I just haven’t had really any longer breaks ever since my popularity started rising, so, it’s good to just… breathe for a while.” Chan takes another sip of his coffee. It’s good coffee. It’s actually really damn good coffee. Felix seems to be in his thoughts for a while.
“…Haven’t you been famous in the violin scene since you were like fourteen or something?” He squints his eyes, there’s a fry halfway to his mouth, pierced by a fork.
“…Yes.” A child prodigy, like many others.
“So you have been working nonstop for the last ten years?”
“…Yes.” Now that Felix puts it that way, it does sound a little worrisome.
“Bloody hell. Thank god I wasn’t a child prodigy”, Felix laughs, but the laughter isn’t out of joy, it’s out of wonder. Yeah, bloody hell. Now, at the age of 24, Chan finds himself perhaps a little regretful of the youth that was robbed from him.
A silence falls in between them, since Chan doesn’t know what to say. He realizes that he doesn’t… know how to initiate conversation anymore. He doesn’t know how to make friends. He hasn’t made any new friends in ages, usually he just gets new acquaintances from the music circles, and they always talk about all things music and never nothing else, but right now… Chan finds himself reluctant of speaking about music. What else do him and Felix have in common? What other interests does Chan even have?
See, here’s the thing, he hasn’t done much anything other than playing and learning music for the… entirety of his life. He hasn’t explored much other hobbies. He hasn’t traveled except on tours, and on those he hasn’t had much time to just… explore the cities. He’s lived, but he feels like he’s never been truly alive.
Except when playing.
And now that has been taken away from him, too.
The clock ticks, Chan’s phone buzzes, but out of politeness he doesn’t take it from the pocket of his trousers. He hopes it’s nothing too important (it most likely isn’t). Felix glances at him, then at his surroundings, the awkwardness feels heavy, Chan sips from his coffee again just to do something.
“So… Do you think cereal is a soup or not?”
“…What?” Chan nearly chokes on his coffee.
“Do you think cereal is a soup or not? Also explain your opinion.”
Huh? Chan wouldn’t have to discuss music?
“It’s… well, technically it could be considered a soup. All the elements of a soup are there, there’s the broth that is the milk, and then there are the… well, the cereal, that could be compared to veggies and meat or whatever soup we’re comparing to… But then again, soups are usually warm, whereas cereal isn’t… So maybe I wouldn’t call it a soup. Just… cereal.”
“That is some good ass reasoning. Okay, next question, then what mythical creature would improve the world if it existed?”
“Fairies. They would make life a lot more interesting. What is up with these questions?” Chan couldn’t lie to himself, he was quite… delighted by the odd questions. They were a nice change.
“I don’t know if you recall, but you said in one of your interviews that you appreciate it when people ask you something out of the box that catches your attention and not just the same basic interview questions you usually get.”
Right. He has said that. Chan remembers it. Jesus, this Felix boy clearly knows a lot about him.
“You know what, this is unfair, you know so much of me, but I know nothing about you. Except that you know how to play the piano and your name is Felix”, Chan complains, there’s a little bit of laughter in his voice. He leans back against his chair, crosses his leg over the other. Felix laughs, nearly drops the fry from his fork.
“Then ask me something! Interview me like you always get interviewed! Let’s play, I’m the world star and now you’re the one who has to write a story about me!”
***
There are three empty bottles of beer in front of both of them. Chan’s suit jacket hangs on his backrest, his cheeks feel heated and there’s a wide smile spread on his face. He’s relaxed. He’s having fun. What a change can a few beers and hours make.
Felix’s surname is Lee. He’s twenty-one years old. He’s played piano ever since he was a child, but it was only a hobby to him for the longest time, until he realized his passion for composing music. He doesn’t have any pets, but he wants a cat, a very furry one, to be specific. He was an average student, except in the academy, where he’s below average (and Chan is quite sure it has everything with the professors not understanding Felix’s way of viewing the world). He lives with a roommate, he’s called Jisung, and he plays the cello at the academy. Felix wants to travel, to see the world, especially Paris and Rome, and the Victoria falls, and actually all seven wonders of the world. He doesn’t think cereal is a soup, because it is not warm and isn’t usually eaten for lunch. He thinks vampires would improve the quality of life solely for the fact that they are sexy. He likes earthy colors, he likes flowers, but apparently his favorite color changes every other week, so next week he might like neons. He likes change, he doesn’t fear it, he’s adaptative.
Felix knows Seungmin, too, and he’s met Hyunjin as well. This information delights Chan quite a bit, but it also reassures him a little. Seungmin isn’t the type to befriend people who can’t be trusted, he’s very selective of the people around him, so if he feels that Felix alright – then he’s alright. Perhaps Chan will have to ask him about the pianist boy. Felix also likes drawing, at one point he had plans to pursue art rather than music, but music took over. He has a habit of twirling a lock of hair in between his fingers every time he focuses on thinking about something. It’s rather endearing.
And with the passing hours Chan realizes that he’s rather comfortable. Soon he knows just as much of Felix as Felix does of him. He’s quite easy to be with as the ice has finally been broken, Chan enjoys his company. It’s funny, how just during New Year’s Felix had been this stuttering mess, and now he’s just… talking his heart out. Chatting. His nose is a little red, could be the beer. The atmosphere is warm.
But above all, what makes Chan so incredibly comfortable is that Felix doesn’t make him talk about music. They talk about everything else. They talk about Felix. They talk about places they want to go to. They talk about how Jisung managed to break one of the lamps in his and Felix’s shared apartment’s kitchen yesterday when he had been dancing along to some pop song. They talk about everything that isn’t music, and it makes Chan feel comfortable.
Perhaps he indeed has managed to make himself a friend for the first time in quite a while.
***
March welcomes Chan with open arms and streets full of slush. He stops by a shop to buy new strings for his violin (the other one, the one he doesn’t use for playing for the huge crowds), he’s been trying to… play lately. And by playing he means he’s just been trying out notes and tuning his violin and playing old pieces mindlessly, without the passion, without the feel to it. It feels odd, it doesn’t feel right, but he has to somehow maintain his ability to play. Of course, his skills are not going to suddenly disappear overnight, but he’s just… It’s a habitual thing, once again.
And perhaps he wants to test if the passion, the feeling has returned. It hasn’t. But Chan has hope, even a tiny bit, the writer’s blocks always eventually pass too, right? So has to his… music block. Chan has to eventually start to feel again, right? He can’t live his life completely emotionless.
Saying that he’s completely emotionless may be a bit of an overstatement. Of course he feels, he feels happy when he’s out with his friends, he feels joy whenever Felix comes to sit with him at the jazz bar after his performance (they have met briefly a few times over the few weeks), and he feels angry whenever he looks at his violin. Angry at himself, not at the violin. The rest of the time just goes by in apathy.
The clock is closing in to seven, so Chan might as well drop by the jazz bar. He does, the familiar warmth embraces him and Chan orders a glass of wine, as he doesn’t want to be rude and just sit in the corner without buying anything. A few people recognize him, Chan hears whispers but decides not to care about them. The word has travelled, oh, it has, Chan’s manager got an upsurge of inquiries for an interview ever since the word got out that Chan wouldn’t be doing his next tour yet. She had turned them all down, and now no one knew what the “personal reasons” were. Chan prefers it that way, if he’s being honest, he knows it shrouds him in mystery, gives him back a part of his freedom and his privacy which he has lost many years ago. Downsides of being a child prodigy.
Felix is playing, as Chan expected. His gaze moves from the keys to Chan as Chan sits down on that same corner, his eyes turn to little crescents as a smile spreads on his face. He reminds Chan of sunshine. Chan sips of his wine, as Felix’s eyes travel back to the keys and he continues playing. It’s most likely one of his own compositions again, as Chan doesn’t recognize the song (or perhaps it isn’t, after all, Chan does not, quite contrary to the expectation, recognize every single classical piano piece). Chan watches as Felix’s blond locks fall over his eyes, they have once again been pushed back from the other side. It quite fits him, that somewhat long-haired look. He’s wearing the same dark shirt and slacks, his bag is perched up against the piano bench next to him.
And even in the warm, dim light of the jazz bar Chan can see that Felix is tired. He’s looked tired before, the dark circles underneath his eyes are somewhat familiar to Chan already, but now he looks even more tired. Exhausted. The circles have deepened, his eyes look a little less alive. His posture is slightly slouched, his fingers don’t move across the keys as gracefully as usual.
Chan feels sorry for him.
Half an hour passes by as Chan texts his friends about the plans for the next weekend, the playing finally stops and another player takes Felix’s place.
“Hey, what’s up?” There’s a tired smile on Felix’s face as he slumps on the chair opposite to Chan.
“Nothing much. It’s been a rather boring two weeks.” It’s been two weeks since Chan last talked to Felix. “How about you?”
The smile on Felix’s face falters a little, he slouches against the backrest of his stool.
“It’s uh… it’s been a little rough. But I’ll manage, I’ve done so before, I’ll do it this time, too.” The smile doesn’t reach Felix’s eyes, and Chan knows that he doesn’t know Felix all that well, really, but it makes him a little sad. He can only imagine what the boy is going through to look that exhausted.
“Is it the academy?” Chan sips from his wine glass, wonders if he should buy Felix a cup of coffee. Then he remembers that Felix doesn’t like coffee, he prefers tea.
“That. I’m behind in a few theory classes, and I don’t have time to learn all the new compositions that we have been assigned. And I didn’t earn enough money last month, so after paying rent I don’t have money for uh… anything, and Jisung isn’t in any better shape, he’s overworked, too. And I can’t find new places to play, and one of them just went bankrupt so they don’t take any more players in anymore… So yeah, it’s going a little rough. It will be fine once I… uh… Once I… I don’t know. The busy season in the academy hasn’t even started yet.” Felix’s voice fades out towards the end, as he stares at nothing, clearly tired, clearly a little in his thoughts. Then he seems to snap back to reality:
“Jesus, sorry for bursting like that, I’m just, uhm, quite tired.”
“I can see that”, Chan mentally slaps himself, that’s not a thing you say to someone who’s tired; “I mean, I’ve been there too, I know how the exhaustion feels like. What it looks like.”
Felix gently smiles at him, he doesn’t take Chan’s words as an offense. Chan would like to give Felix some sort of advice, but he doesn’t really know what. What is there to give? Work harder? He’s already working hard, incredibly hard. Play better? Not possible, he’s already good. Why has the society been built in such a way that one must beat themselves to the pulp with work until they can be seen as valuable? Why doesn’t the academy understand that people come from different backgrounds, and not every good player is born with a silver spoon in their mouth.
They chat for a bit, Felix is clearly a little out of it. Yet somehow, his presence makes Chan feel comfortable again, just like that time when they were sitting at the other bar and getting to know each other. Or Chan was getting to know Felix. Chan tells him about his week, which has been boring, he’s done nothing remarkable, except gone to long runs and craved for summer. He’s quite sick of the cold already. Felix misses summer, too, that’s the time when he gets to breathe a little, he just wants to properly focus on his work and forget the academy for a moment.
It only takes half an hour, and then Felix glances at the clock, and a horrified look spreads over his features:
“Shit, shit, I need to go, I have another gig in half an hour.” He scrambles up and collects his belongings, before waving a quick bye to Chan, before he’s running out of the door. Chan is left alone in the corner, his phone buzzes and signals him that Changbin is bored and wants company at his flower shop. Chan sends him a message that he’ll join him. He gets up, pulls his coat on (not as thick as the one he wears during the winter months), but doesn’t leave just yet.
He gets an idea. Of course he does, as he is the kind of person who would do anything to ease his friends’ struggles, because he hates to see other people suffer. And he and Felix are now friends, right? He could help his friend out, just a little. So that’s why he walks up to the counter, greets the bartender with a smile:
“Hey, can I still tip the pianist who played an hour ago?”
“The one you have been meeting with? Sure.” Ah, the bartender has noticed.
“Yeah. Can I do it anonymously?” As if Felix wouldn’t have the brains to find out.
“Yup.”
“Great.” Chan fishes out his wallet from his pocket. He decides to go with cash, it’s easier to manage the players’ tips that way, Chan remembers. He counts the bills and hands them over to the bartender. He cocks an eyebrow at him.
“Really? You didn’t think to be any more generous?”
Chan flashes him perhaps a slightly embarrassed smile.
“He’s struggling. I think that’s enough to help him a bit.” And to cover his rent for the next month. Or two.
***
“Chan, what the hell?” Felix marches up to Chan and drops the stack of money in front of him. Chan lifts his gaze from the book he’s been reading at the corner of the jazz bar, as he once again had decided to stop by and to his delight he had found that Felix was playing for the night.
“What do you mean?” He answers, avoids eye contact. He’s a bad liar, but a master in avoiding confrontation.
“What do I mean? Do you think I’m so stupid that I won’t realize who gave that enormous tip?”
“I don’t. It could be anyone. I’m not the only famous face in this bar who has a little money to spare. I’m quite certain I saw one of the composers working for the philharmonic here last time when you were playing.” Chan finally moves his gaze from the stack of bills to Felix.
He still looks horrible. When he finally gets the contact, he slumps down on the stool in front of him, a tired expression on his face and a raised eyebrow.
“Chan. I’m serious. Take them back.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, that’s not my money.”
Felix huffs, a little crease appears in between his brows.
“Listen, you literally told me off because you thought I was after your status and money, and now you’re offering me the other. I don’t want it. I don’t want your money. I can manage just fine on my own, I get enough from the gigs.”
“Do you?” Chan knows he doesn’t. Felix had been quite vocal of that the last time they had seen each other.
Felix seems to remember this, too, because he falls quiet. But not for long:
“I’m serious. I don’t want your pity money.”
“It’s not pity money.”
“So it is yours! I don’t want it.”
“It stopped being mine the moment I gave it to the bartender.” Chan sets his book down on the table, next to the stack of money. The bills are a bit more crumbled than they were when Chan gave them to the bartender.
“Chan, I am actually being serious.” Felix sounds a bit irritated, perhaps. He’s not really used to getting help, is he?
“And so am I.”
“Take it back.”
“No.”
“Then I’m going to leave it here.”
“Felix, I’m just trying to help you out”, Chan finally admits. Felix is quite stubborn, he learns.
“I don’t need help.”
“Yes, you do. You literally told me you’re struggling with the academy and paying the bills, so I’m helping you out.”
Felix closes his mouth, opens it, and closes it again.
“I don’t need help”, he finally mutters. Chan sighs and pushes the money back to his side of the table.
“You may not admit it, but you do need help. It’s not a bad thing to accept the help that is offered, you know? I have once been in the academy too, and worked at the same time, I know what kind of hell it is like. I may have been already playing in the big league back then, but it was still horrible. Take the help, you need it, and you deserve it.”
A brief silence. Chan isn’t entirely sure, but Felix’s eyes may be glimmering a little in the dim light.
“Chan, that’s enough for at least like two rents.” And Chan’s eyes have not betrayed him, because there is a slight waver in Felix’s voice. There’s quite a bit underneath the surface, isn’t there? Felix isn’t used to receiving help.
“Then that’s two rents off of your checklist.”
“Chan…”
“Felix.”
Felix sniffles, just a little, before wiping his nose against the sleeve of his shirt. There’s a few heartbeats more of silence, during which Chan simply keeps staring at Felix, and Felix stares back. It’s a game, Chan realizes, and he can’t back down and turn his eyes away before Felix does, or he loses. To his joy, he doesn’t, because Felix realizes that he is actually serious, and will not take the money back.
“On one condition,” he finally mumbles.
“Hm?”
“Give me your phone.”
Chan looks curiously at Felix, before he fishes his phone out of his breast pocket and hands it over to Felix. He stares at it for a moment.
“What’s your code?”
“Zerozerozero three.”
“How very secure of you.”
A slight shade of rosy hue flushes on Chan’s nose.
“Thanks, I usually don’t have other people using my phone.” Yet here he is, giving his phone to this pianist boy who he’s met only a couple of times. Well, more than a couple, but still not that many. What are they, even? Are they friends? Chan sure has helped him, so perhaps they’re friends. He isn’t sure if Felix feels that way, though, they don’t meet regularly, after all, just occasionally. Occasionally, when Chan stops by at the jazz bar at exactly in between six and seven in the evening on weekdays, when he usually does not visit the jazz bar.
Oh god. He’s visiting the jazz bar just to catch a glimpse of Felix, isn’t he? Perhaps Chan wants to be his friend more than he has thought. He clearly doesn’t know himself well enough.
“Here”, Felix hands the phone back to him, Chan takes it. He locks it and puts it back to his pocket, and he has no idea what Felix has done with it.
“I need to go, I have my next gig in half an hour.” Felix rises from his seat, stares at the money on the table, before he takes it, to Chan’s joy. He doesn’t do it without an angry expression on his face, though, as if he’s mad at himself that he lets someone else help him. A bit sad, perhaps. Chan would like to get to the bottom of that, but he doesn’t know Felix well enough for that yet.
“Have fun on your gig.”
“Thank you. I will. Have fun with your… book and glass of wine.”
“Thank you Felix, I will.”
And with that, the blond pianist boy is off, with his bag slung on his shoulder. He glances back at Chan, just to wave at him, before exiting through the door to the elevator.
***
It takes two days for Chan to realize what Felix did with his phone. He’s searching his contacts with the intention to call his manager, when he stumbled upon a “Lix” with three yellow hearts and a sunflower after it. How fitting. Yellow hearts and a sunflower. No wonder his parents decided to name him Felix, he exudes happiness.
Then Chan realizes that everything is up to him, that’s how Felix has played it. So far it has always been Felix approaching Chan, but never Chan approaching Felix. Felix doesn’t have his number, but Chan has Felix’s number.
The continuation is up to him.
***
Unfortunately for him, the rest of March goes by in haste. “Chan, your great uncle has passed away, you need to fly back home to attend the funeral”, and of course he does that, and spends two weeks at his home with his mother and his sister. He takes his violin with him, he knows it is expected of him to play in the funeral. And he does that, he knows just a song, it’s a song about losing and grief, he’s played it many times before. In fact, it is one of his favorite pieces, but it doesn’t thrill him anymore, as it has done before.
Playing without passion is like summer without any flowers, Chan learns. Beautiful, but something is missing. Not that anyone else can tell the difference from his normal playing and passionless playing, it all sounds the same to the crowd.
He returns after two weeks, doesn’t really feel that much of anything. Of course he’s sad, but not that sad, he wasn’t close to his great uncle, and he was already old, it was only expected that he’d become part of the wind sooner than later. Chan doesn’t know how to grieve a natural death, as it is something everyone is going to experience.
But he knows how to grieve after an unnatural death. After those who had been taken away far too early. Oh, he knows how to do that.
“The academy called. Would you like to go do them a little presentation of yourself? Or an interview, or something?” The manager asks as he calls Chan the day after he gets home. Chan nods, then realizes that she can’t see him, and mumbles a “Yes, that would be nice”.
Two days later he stands in front of the huge, heavy wooden doors on the granite steps to the academy. He pushes the door open, it’s as heavy as he remembers it to be. He’s greeted with wide smiles and hugs and pats on his back, as his old professors lead him to the great hall through the hollow corridors. It’s rather quiet, so Chan guesses most of the students are waiting for him to show up. He’s correct, the pair doors lead him to a hall full of rows of seats that lead down to a stage in the middle of it all. He smiles and waves at the students, all of them are clapping, Chan sees nothing but dark colors, so the academy still hasn’t changed it’s dressing code, always so formal. Chan doesn’t differ from them, not in his black suit, with his violin in a case in his hand.
They had decided to do an interactive interview, in which the interviewer would ask some questions, and the students could ask more questions. And of course, Chan has prepared a song to play for them, and perhaps he dreads it a little, these are professionals he’s playing to, they will notice something is wrong with his playing. The interview is very basic, Chan sits on a stool in the middle of the stage in the amphitheater, the spotlights feel hot against his skin, he can feel the black curls matting against his forehead. How do you play so well, how do you do this and that and how does it feel to play for the huge crowds and how did you end up choosing Yang Jeongin as your pair and so on and so on, the same questions Chan has answered to hundreds of times. He smiles, laughs, he’s being nice, pretends he’s alright and fine and succeeds in it.
And in the midst of it all, he searches. His eyes scan through the crowd, row by row, the lights are on, so he can see the students, and every time he finishes a row and doesn’t see a familiar face, he gets a little disappointed. Felix has been so keen on reading his interviews, is he not here now?
Then, in the middle of his answer, the doors open, and a figure slips through them and tiptoes to the last free places left in the hall. The blond locks and yellow dress shirt give it away, it’s Felix. Chan nearly forgets his answer, before he picks up where he left and finishes it. He glances at the boy once more, and then it’s the turn for the students’ questions and once again Chan is answering to how did you manage in the academy, who was your favorite professor, what’s your favorite composition to play and so on and so on and so on. The students’ questions are far more interesting, though, Chan finds himself actually enjoying them.
The minutes pass, there’s no questions left, and finally it’s time for Chan to play. He hands his mic to the interviewer and picks up his violin case, clicks it open and takes his violin and bow out. He’s tuned his violin in the morning, it should work just fine, as fine as it can get.
“Is that a D. Z. Strad model 800?” Chan hears a student whisper to another. He guesses that most of the violinists are sitting on the front rows. Chan looks at the whispering students, smirks a little and nods, just to signal that he can hear them, they should probably whisper a little more quietly.
“I wonder if they will lend him a Stradivarius at some point, he’s definitely deserved it.” They have offered, Chan has declined the offer two times now. He’d rather break his own violin that cost him a few thousand dollars than a historic artifact with immeasurable worth that doesn’t even belong to him.
Chan positions the violin against his shoulder, brings the bow against the strings – and hesitates. Why? He doesn’t know. Or perhaps he does, he’s about to let all of his professors know that something is missing, something is wrong with their dear child prodigy, he isn’t like he used to be. He takes in a deep breath, and looks up, just to realize that Felix has changed places and is now only a few rows away from him. He locks eyes with the boy – he knows something is wrong, of course he does, he was the first one to know about his decision to rest for the year.
Felix smiles at him, just a little, just to encourage Chan in his little hesitation. Chan closes his eyes and starts to play.
He knows the song by heart, he is physically unable to play it wrong. It flows through him, the song flows through his fingertips to the bow and from there to the strings of the violin, and the music reverberates through the hall, filling every single corner with it. Chan plays, he hears the gasps around the hall, he hears the professors muttering under their breaths, and he hears the music he himself is creating.
And he hears, how it lacks feeling, and it hurts him. Deeply. Only if he was capable of catalyzing the feeling out of that pain, oh, then he would be able to play with all of his glory. But he can’t do that, so instead he just plays, simply plays, only plays, and when he’s done, the hall erupts to cheers, some students forget that they’re supposed to be calm and collected and Chan hears whistling.
Yet Chan doesn’t look at anyone but Felix. The boy has a little smile on his face, as he claps, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He sees through Chan, doesn’t he? He sees, he hears that something’s not entirely in place, he knows it, and now he’s wondering, what that something is. He’s close to pinpointing it, Chan is half sure of it. Felix nods, just a little bit, as if signaling that he approves of Chan’s little performance. A smile tugs the corner of Chan’s mouth, as he bends to a bow.
***
“I was surprised to see you play.”
Felix’s voice startles Chan as he steps out of the academy, the heavy door falls shut behind him.
“How so?”
“I don’t know. I thought you would just do the interview and then leave.” Felix has been leaning against the railing of the stairs, clearly waiting for Chan. Chan notices that there are a few other students, too, most likely waiting for him, as Chan recognizes two of them to be the whisperers from the front row. They look nearly appalled to see Felix talking to Chan in a friendly manner.
“I’m pretty sure professor Chang would have gutted me if I didn’t play”, Chan gently smiles. Felix snorts and picks up his bad from the ground. They’re clearly going somewhere together.
“Was I good?” Chan asks, half-joking as he steps down the stairs. The other students seem to not want to interrupt Chan and Felix, and take a few steps back, their intention was most likely to continue the little interview with more in-depth questions. And to take selfies.
“Are you seriously asking if you, a world star classical violinist, were good? Are you completely out of your mind?”
Perhaps. It’s Chan’s brain that wants confirmation that he, despite having lost his passion, still sounds good while playing. Chan doesn’t answer the question, as they continue their travel through the block, stop, and wait for the traffic lights to turn green.
Felix thinks about his words for a moment: “You were.” He hesitates, just a little: “But something is missing.”
Chan nods, Felix is correct.
“I suppose that’s the reason for your decision to not tour this year?”
Chan nods again. He doesn’t elaborate, and Felix most likely knows by now not to pry on it. Chan will tell, if he wants to, but right now he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to reveal his biggest insecurity to someone who has been in his life for mere months. He still doesn’t completely trust Felix.
They cross the street in silence, turn from the next street corner. They’re heading towards the city center. April isn’t as cold as March was, but Chan still hasn’t let go of his winter jacket (which is too cold for winters, but just fine for cold spring days). The sun is peeking through the clouds, the trees along the walkway are slowly awakening from their sleepy slumber.
Oh, right! He’s supposed to apologize to Felix.
“I’m sorry for not calling, or sending a message”, Chan glances at the boy next to him. They’re the same height, Felix’s blonde locks are slightly curled. They’re longer than Chan remembers them to be when they first met. The sunlight of the afternoon accentuates the freckles on the bridge of his nose. He glances at Chan, slightly surprised, his hands deep in the pockets of his jean jacket. Not the basic kind of jean jacket, Chan can see there’s a soft, thick lining in it.
“That’s alright, I thought um… I don’t know what I thought. I have been kind of busy. Though, I haven’t seen you at the jazz bar for a couple of weeks, so I perhaps was a little worried, and I would have sent you a message if I had your number, but that’s beside the point.”
Chan is glad to notice that even if Felix has been busy, he looks better. A lot better. The circles underneath his eyes aren’t so prominent anymore (though, they’re there), his posture isn’t slouched anymore. He’s gained back the familiar glow.
“Yeah, I was out of the country, so that’s why I haven’t been stopping by. I returned two nights ago.”
“Oh?”
Should he tell Felix? Well, the reason for his traveling isn’t something to hide. Chan doesn’t shy away from talking about death.
“It’s uh… my great uncle passed away, so I had to attend his funeral.”
“Oh, I see. I’m sorry for your loss.” There’s a slight concern laced in Felix’s tone of speech. Chan shakes his head, just a bit:
“It’s more of a loss to my mother than to me. I wasn’t all that close to him.”
“Ah. I hate funerals, I can’t stand the sadness. The pain. The grief. Just… I don’t know. I haven’t had to attend them all that often, like maybe three times during my whole life but…” Felix mumbles, he clearly just wants to fill in the silence. Chan doesn’t mind it, it doesn’t feel all that awkward anymore, now that he knows Felix a bit better than a few months ago.
“Funerals are… alright. Not my favorite.” Not with all the memories. But grief is a great teacher, and an even better inspiration.
They turn from a city street to walk across the park. The grass is getting greener, Chan notices, there are a few children playing at the playground, the screams of joy fill the air. Chan’s violin feels heavy in his hand.
“Do you want to go for dinner? As an apology for not reaching out to you”, he asks, after seeing one of his favorite restaurants at the street corner. It’s nothing fancy nor expensive, just a very ordinary restaurant with the nicest owner lady Chan has ever met.
“Oohoho, is that your way of asking me out?” Felix giggles lightheartedly. The smile reaches his eyes, turning them to little crescents.
“If that’s how you want to interpret it. I’m just hungry. And my favorite restaurant is over there”, Chan points out towards the restaurant. The gravel underneath his steps scrunches.
Felix looks towards the way Chan is pointing:
“That’s the most basic pizza place I have ever seen. I thought you would be into something fancy.”
“They make the best pizzas of this city in there. And fancy places are boring. They’re too uptight.”
“Wow, Christopher Bang, you keep surprising me”, Felix laughs, so do the kids at the playground.
That’s where they end up, sitting underneath the fluorescent lights on red stools of the pizza place. There are only a handful of people in the restaurant, so Felix and Chan get their solitude.
“I can’t believe you’re sitting in a corner pizza place with a multiple thousand violin at your feet”, Felix mouths over his menu. Chan snorts at him:
“Keep yelling that in here and soon it won’t be mine anymore.”
“I bet you would have money to buy a new one. Or like, three new ones.”
“You’re right. It’s not like I own a Stradivari. Or a Guarneri.”
“Why don’t you own either of those? I’m pretty sure you’re qualified to play one.”
“I am, and I have been offered a Stradivari, you know, they’re often owned by philharmonics or museums and they lend them to their best players. I declined the offer, though.”
Felix’s mouth falls a little ajar, before he collects himself.
“You declined?! Why?”
“I’d rather break a D. Z. Strad that costs eight thousand dollars than a Stradivari. And I prefer the sound of the newer violins. They fit better to the sonatas I play than Stradivaris do.”
“You sound so expensive. Rich. What the fuck.”
“Can I get your order, please?”
Chan flashes a smile at the waiter and tells them what he wants. Felix orders the same, just because he didn’t have time to properly scroll through the menu with all the chit-chat. Chan admires it a little, how Felix has got so comfortable so quickly, when he himself is still a little stiff, still a little cautious. Must be the fact that he hasn’t made any new real friends in a long time.
And there it is again, that little doubt at the back of his mind, what if Felix, too, has been lying all this time? What if he, too, just wants what Chan has?
Then Felix smiles as he sets the menu away and hands Chan a knife and a fork. Chan places them on a napkin next to him.
“How have your gigs been going?” He asks, he hasn’t been able to hear Felix play in a while. Perhaps he sort of misses it, Felix’s music is always a joy to listen. He has uniqueness to it.
“Fine. I got a new place to play in, too. I think that if none of the places I play in kick me out, I can survive through the summer with them and won’t have to search for any new ones.”
“That’s good to hear”, and it is, it relieves Chan for some reason.
“Yup. And Jisung got himself somehow involved with the philharmonic, I think Seungmin has something to do with it, so now he has a summer job, too. You won’t have to pay our rent.”
Chan rolls his eyes at the remark, but Felix isn’t serious, he’s got the little mischievous smile on his face, and he’s finally got over his shame of accepting help.
Felix has been doing fine, better than in the last two months, actually. He’s still close to being kicked out, but not so badly anymore, as he could cancel a few gigs with Chan’s help to actually study his theories. The conversation flows, Chan tells Felix that he’s just been visiting his mother and avoiding any and all interviews, and his manager, which makes Felix laugh, and then their pizzas arrive, and they both dig in.
Felix agrees, the place is the best in the city when it comes to pizzas, with just one bite.
The fluorescent lights make Felix’s hair look almost green. The yellow dress shirt seems almost neon, and it doesn’t really match his jacket, but Chan has learned it by now, Felix doesn’t really care about that. “I like colors. And I don’t have any other jackets for this weather, but the academy requires formal clothing, and my blazer is still waiting for me to wash it.”
Chan feels the tension in his shoulders let go little by little. Maybe he had been a bit more nervous about playing the violin in front of so many professionals than he had anticipated. Felix’s company makes it all a bit better, though, his thoughts are quickly somewhere else than in the interview or music or his violin, even if it’s leaning against his leg underneath his seat. His thoughts are in the upcoming summer, to be specific.
“Are you going somewhere? Or I don’t know, do you have any plans?” Felix asks, hand covering his mouth full of pizza.
“Not really. I’ve spent the last years touring or practicing, so… I guess I’ll go visit home at some point. I don’t know. I haven’t had any summers full of free time in years.” In ten years, to be exact. Felix looks a little sad by that information.
“We should do something! Let’s go on a road trip by the sea! Or, or, do a movie marathon! And go on a picnic every day!” Felix’s eyes light up, his energy catches on to Chan as well.
“Hmm. Picnic sounds thrilling, I’ve never been to one.”
“What?!” Felix nearly shrieks, a few heads turn towards them, Felix doesn’t mind them: “What the hell do you mean you have never been to a picnic?”
“Oh I’ve just… never had time, I guess?” Nor friends. Minho and Changbin don’t really do picnics, they do drinking beer in parks during the evening and laughing and singing until the sun starts to rise.
“Then we’re definitely going to a picnic!” Felix takes his phone, unlocks it, searches for something: “Calendar. 17th of June. Take Chan out on a picnic”, he mumbles as he writes, making Chan laugh. Warmth spreads through him, Felix really is something, isn’t he?
Chan pays for both of their pizzas, even if Felix tries to protest, but eventually gives in as Chan insists. They exit the restaurant, darkness has started to fall around them, and Chan realizes they spent a little more time in there than he had thought.
“I have to get back home and try to study for tomorrow’s exam. See you around, I suppose?” Felix has his hands in his pockets again, his bag hanging from his shoulder.
“Wait, just a moment”, Chan says as he takes his phone out of his pocket. He searches for “Lix” with two yellow hearts and a sunflower emoji from his contacts and sends him a message, a sunflower emoji. He hears Felix’s phone buzz in his pocket, and a wide smile spreads on the boy’s features as he realizes what Chan has just done.
“Yeah, see you. More often than in the past months, I hope.”
***
And more often he gets. In fact, he’s never received this many messages in a matter of 24 hours. Felix doesn’t know how to shut up, it takes a few days for Chan to understand that the few hours of silence during the evenings and the nights mean that Felix is working or sleeping. At least he sleeps, even if Chan is no better with his mindless violin playing at the wee hours of the night that only ends up in annoyance directed at himself.
Felix tells Chan about his day, he sends him memes, he sends him videos, “this is u, this reminds me of u, hey look at this cat I love cats”, and Chan may be more of a dog person, but the cats are indeed cute.
“i’m not annoying you am i? you don’t need to respond to every message you know, it’s okay, i understand if you don’t have time. and also please say if i’m distracting you too much or something” says one of the messages, Chan shakes his head with a slight smile on his face as he responds: “don’t worry, you’re not distracting me, and i wouldn’t be answering to you in the first place if i didn’t want to”, and to that he gets a :3 and a heart. Felix is endearing.
And Changbin notices that.
“Why the hell are you smiling at your phone like that? Are you watching porn or something?”
“Who the hell would smile while watching porn?” Minho questions Changbin.
“I don’t know? Maybe it’s very heartfelt porn.”
Chan rolls his eyes at the two of his friends.
“What kind of porn are you even watching?” Minho pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, there’s mud stains on his shirt, he’s been helping Changbin at his flower shop since he has a day off. Chan had decided to join them, he, too has his hands full of dirt as he’s repotting Changbin’s spring season flowers.
“Wouldn’t you like to know that!” Changbin bites back, Minho throws a little plastic shovel at him. He has dirt on his face.
“No, but seriously, Chan, don’t think we haven’t noticed, you’re rarely on your phone when you’re with other people, what’s going on?” Oh? Chan hasn’t even realized that he doesn’t usually do that. Or perhaps he has.
“Oh, it’s just… Um…” How the hell would he explain Felix? This boy came to me on New Year’s and we just started chatting?
“Yeah, this boy came to me on New Year’s Eve at the jazz bar where I usually sit and just… struck up a conversation and I’ve been meeting him a few times ever since.”
Minho and Changbin just stare blankly at him.
“What?” Minho finally mutters.
“Is there something odd about it?” Chan asks. Perhaps there is.
“No except that people just don’t go to someone and strike up a conversation! Who is he? What does he do? Are you abandoning us as your best friends?” Changbin questions, his little shovel swinging. The sunlight casts shadows in the flower shop, there’s some background piano music playing quietly from the corner. The trio is sitting behind the cash counter on the floor, it’s a quiet day, there won’t be all that many customers.
“Well, uh… So he um, recognized me, he plays the piano in the academy and so on, he was playing at the jazz bar at that time, you know how I used to do that, too. And then he just… introduced himself and we started chatting.”
“Chan…” Chan knows that tune. Oh, Minho does that every time he’s worried for his friends.
“I know Minho. The next time he spotted me I told him that if it’s stardom he wants, he has to find someone else. The next time he came to me with a glass of wine and told me he doesn’t even really play classical except when he has to. And then I just… I don’t know. I gave him a chance.”
“Chan…”
“Don’t say that. I know.”
“We’re just worried that you’ll get yourself hurt. Again”, Changbin adds, he has a crease in between his eyebrows. His bangs are tied with a bobble in a way that makes him resemble a pineapple.
“I know. I was, too. But I just… I don’t know, he doesn’t really seem the type to… just… betray the trust I have given him. I mean, we rarely speak about music or anything related to it, unless it’s Felix and his music. He composes, too, and he composes quite well in my opinion.”
“A-ha, he’s called Felix, got it”, a little grin stretches on Minho’s lips. He leans against one of the shelves full of pots stacked on top of one another.
“Yes, he’s called Felix. And we have hung out a few times, usually in the jazz bar after he’s played, a week ago I was doing the interview at the academy and we went to eat at that one corner pizza place after that and…”
“What?! You took him there?” Minho shrieks.
“Yes?” Chan raises his eyebrows, a little questioning.
“Wow… so you guys really are friends now… Changbin, we’re being replaced”, Minho pretends to clutch his heart in betrayal and agony. Changbin wipes a non-existent tear from his face.
“Yeah, I guess we’re friends now”, Chan admits. They are friends, right? They chat and meet and laugh and Felix makes Chan feel like Minho and Changbin do. They’re friends. It’s nice to have new friends. His phone buzzes, it’s Felix telling him that they should meet after his gig. Chan sends him an ok. When he looks up, Minho and Changbin glance at each other, and the knowing look in their eyes make Chan confused.
“What?” He asks.
“Nothing. You should bring the pianist with you sometime. I want to meet him. And to grill him so that he won’t turn out to be one of those asshole-type of people”, Minho says, a glimmer of mischief in the corner of his eye.
***
Suddenly April turns into May, and the parks and trees along the driveways are bursting with green. It gets warmer, Chan finally abandons his thick jackets and lets the sun soak into his skin as he’s walking back home from his tutoring session. The mother of this one violinist child prodigy had reached out to Chan’s manager a few weeks ago and inquired if Chan would be interested in teaching her. The manager had asked Chan, and Chan had said yes, he didn’t really have anything else to do, and it would be a great way to ensure that he himself wouldn’t forget everything about violins. They had decided to meet twice a week for a two-hour tutoring session. That’s why Chan’s currently walking home, with his other violin, the cheaper one, in its case in his hand, and the spring sun warms his back.
Then he gets a message and changes his course. It’s Felix saying his gig got canceled because of some broken water pipes, he’s a few blocks over and doesn’t want to go home to study yet, and Chan decides he really doesn’t have anything for the rest of the evening today, so he might just as well go meet up with Felix. Chan spots Felix leaning against the wall of a bus stop, mindlessly scrolling through his phone.
“Hey”, Chan wakes him up from his thoughts. A smile flashes on Felix’s features immediately, his phone gets forgotten as he shoves it back into his pocket.
“Hey! Did you have a great time at your tutoring session?” Felix adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder. It’s a new one, just basic black this time, the last one had been a leathery brown one. He has a few keychains tied to its buckles, one of them representing a sunflower.
“Sort of. She’s a pretty decent player but lacks knowledge on other instruments that might help her with violin. You know, she knows how to play violin, but she doesn’t know how to play music.”
“Always so poetic, I expected nothing less”, Felix laughs, Chan snorts at him. He knows Felix knows what he means.
“Coffee?” Chan asks.
“Sure.”
It’s actually a little too late for coffee, so both of them go for tea this time. Felix’s last exams for the year are coming up, but he’s not too stressed about them as he has finally started studying early enough and apparently Jisung takes great notes during classes, so Felix doesn’t have to read all the books. The sun is receding behind the horizon as they exit the coffee shop, painting the sky orange. Felix is stalling, Chan raises an eyebrow at him.
“I don’t know, I just don’t feel like going home yet…”
Well, perhaps Chan doesn’t feel like that either.
“Let’s, uhh… just stroll around, I guess?”
That’s what they do. They stroll around, and under the beautiful sunset they end up sitting on one of the benches in the park close to the city center. A few blocks away from the academy, a few blocks away from Chan’s home.
“It’s so odd, I feel like this city is enormous but somehow my entire life consists of a five-block wide area”, Chan mutters as the topics shift from one to another.
“I’m jealous. I live three metro stations away in a tiny ass apartment with Jisung. We’re lucky we have our own bedrooms.”
“Don’t be. I’d like to live somewhere else. Somewhere… further away. In a smaller apartment, my apartment feels like it’s too big for me.”
Felix hums as an answer, followed by a “Have you lived there for long?”
“A few years. I started renting it after my first tour.”
“Oh? I thought you would own it.”
“I’m not that rich. Besides, it’s easier to just pay rent and move away when I want to instead of owning an actual apartment.”
“True”, Felix agrees. He sits on the bench with his legs crossed, he keeps on mindlessly pulling the strings of his black hoodie. The side of his sneakers is coming apart.
“Did you live in the dormitory when you attended the academy?” He asks.
“Yeah. Scholarship student, so I got it.”
“Oh man. I’d hate to live in there. I actually prefer solitude while living, so living in a dormitory sounds awful. Well, technically not solitude, but you know, there are days when me and Jisung don’t speak at all, we just exist in the same spaces without taking up space from the other. But on some days we lie on the kitchen floor and talk until five in the morning. It works, I like it, but if I had to live with anyone other than Jisung, it wouldn’t.”
Chan nods, he totally understands what Felix means.
“The dormitories were alright, but as you said, just… too many people in one space. For me, too. And there was always something playing, someone practicing, and while one might think that’s an ideal situation, it isn’t. Not when it’s your neighbor playing clarinet at five in the morning and you haven’t slept because you have been studying all night for an exam.”
“Sounds like you talk from experience”, Felix laughs.
“I do.” Chan can’t help but smile at the memory.
It's the first time they start talking about the academy. Well, Felix has spoken of it, but Chan has rarely said anything about the topic. However, something seems to unlock in him, perhaps it’s in the way that Felix laughs, completely unrestrained, swings his foot in the air as his toes don’t reach to ground, in the way he talks about everyday things as if they were full of wonder. Memories make him smile, laugh, the nostalgia fills Chan’s heart, too, even if he’s never experienced the memories with Felix.
So he talks of his own experiences instead. He talks of his classmates. Of the day he was picked to lead the solo for the violin performance. Of the time they had had a snowball fight at the nearby park, and the professors had been everything but pleased, as of course, the bypassers recognized the students to be from the academy. He talks about this and that and catches glimpses of Felix and his glimmering eyes, his violin leans against his leg and the night slowly deepens around them.
It’s one of those times, when the time doesn’t seem to pass, as Chan is so caught up on his memories. He talks about the funny ones, the delightful ones, but not the sad ones. Not the ones that are too personal, not of the fact that he didn’t have all that many friends, not of the fact that he still hasn’t experienced half of the things youth that have grown in their own pace have. They talk about the professors, they’re still the same, there aren’t that many years in between Felix and Chan, Chan just got out of the academy at maximum speed as he skipped his first year with his previous experience and knowledge. They talk about classes; they talk about the difficulties in studying; they talk about that one specific corner in the library that Felix has found and Chan realizes it’s the same he always had tugged himself in, so often that he had scratched his initials in the wooden table. The park quiets around them, the streetlights cast shadows over them.
And it’s all so freeing. Chan hasn’t talked about these things with anyone in a few years. Minho and Changbin, while his best friends, don’t really have a grasp of Chan’s reality, and Chan himself doesn’t know how to properly explain these things to them, as the academy and the memories surrounding it are a rather complex thing to explain. Felix leans against the backrest of the bench, his other arm slung behind it. He listens to Chan, pays attention to him, and it feels… good.
“How did you start playing, by the way? I mean, I know that you were basically born with a violin in your hand but there’s a starting point to everything, right?” Felix asks, as the topic shifts a little. Chan gently laughs at his question,
“Oh, I was capable of playing all Vivaldi’s sonatas since the day I was born”, and as expected, Felix laughs at him. He laughs at everything, and his laugh makes Chan laugh, too.
“No, I, um,” and that is the point his heart stings, just a little, just a tiny bit. A year ago he would have probably bursted out crying. “My parents put me in piano lessons at the ripe age of five, and after a few years of that I started to show interest in playing the violin. My mom tried to keep me on the piano, but my dad… he insisted that I’d do whatever I wanted. So I changed from piano to violin, and uh… yeah. Nothing too ceremonious, my parents just wanted me to play something.”
Felix nods. If he notices the beat of silence in Chan’s speech, he doesn’t say anything. Of course he doesn’t, he’s considerate.
“What about you?” Chan asks, he’s curious.
“Oh, it’s nothing interesting. Neither of my parents wanted me to pursue music, but I did so anyway. They didn’t believe I would have what it takes to get into the academy, but I showed them. Not that there’s much to show, though, we aren’t really… all that close anymore. Anyway. Not supportive, they wanted me to study economics or something that gets you money.”
“Ah. I’m glad you clearly decided to not listen to your parents’ wishes.” Chan hopes he would have occasionally had similar kind of strength, too. Just to set boundaries for himself.
“I’m glad, too. I’m doing what I like, what I’m passionate about, even if it has taken long to get here, and I have had to work my ass off.”
Chan admires Felix. He really does. His own parents have always been rich and so supportive of him, it had been easy to convince them that he wanted to pursue music properly and get the equipment he needed. Felix, on the other hand, has done everything himself. He has got so far, just by doing his own thing. Admirable, truly.
“I’m sure you’re going to have a bright future ahead of you. You have worked hard, and that work is going to pay off”, Chan mutters. He’s not entirely sure what to say, he just wants to say something encouraging, even if the boy next to him might not need it.
Felix snorts: “You sound like a medium.”
“Maybe I am one and have seen your future! We shall meet at the grand events at all the upcoming New Year’s Eve parties as colleagues, me as a classical violinist and you as a… contemporary pianist.”
“Or a jazz pianist.”
“Or a jazz pianist!”
“Sounds great. Will you offer me a drink then?” Felix grins.
“I could offer you one right now, too, but yes, I will”, Chan grins back.
A little silence falls, Chan realizes how the surroundings have fallen silent. They must have been talking for hours on that park bench, at least according to the darkness around them. Chan can feel the cold of a spring evening creeping up to his spine slowly. Felix is about to say something, but just as he opens his mouth, his phone rings. He takes it from his pocket, answers it, “Hey, at the park close to the center with Chan, what do you mean, huh, the clock is what now, okay, I’ll get going”, and then he ends the call and looks nearly miserable. But only nearly.
“It’s closing to ten, I need to get going, I still have to study a bit.” Ten? Good heavens, they truly have spent their time well today.
“Oh, alright”, Chan tries to suppress his frown. He also wonders at what point exactly he had started to enjoy Felix’s company this much.
“Don’t look so sad, you know we’re going to see each other like… I don’t know, not tomorrow but this week. Or next week. I’m going to text you tomorrow how the exam went”, Felix laughs at him.
“Is that a promise?” Chan smiles.
“It is.”
***
It is a promise, and on top of that, Chan starts to get good morning messages every morning, which turn to Chan sending Felix good morning messages every morning, because he wakes up earlier than Felix does. Felix does decently with his exams, and one evening Chan goes to sit at the jazz bar once again, and he gets to finally meet Jisung, as he is there too. Chan realizes that he vaguely remembers the boy, and then he realizes that he was the same person on New Year’s Eve to call Felix from by the door. Jisung is nice, he’s very funny, and a little shy, and Chan finds that he is much more quiet company than Felix is.
Minho and Changbin finally get their shit together. They announce it to Chan while they’re sitting around the kitchen table of his apartment, and all Chan can say is “Finally! I was getting sick of you two”, and then the kitchen is filled with shy giggles that turn to laughter. Nothing else changes between them, Chan is happy for his friends, naturally, but he’s also happy that their relationship doesn’t affect their friendship. That meaning Minho and Changbin act around each other just the same as before, bantering and bickering and bullying Chan. He really loves his friends.
“Come to the music store with me. I need new note sheets. And to admire the grand pianos from afar”, Felix texts Chan in the afternoon. He only has a week of classes left until his summer break begins, which means he has a week before the end of the year-concerts at the academy. The academy had reached out to Chan if he’d be interested to play there, but he had declined. He knows there’s going to be people looking for new talents among the crows, he doesn’t want to steal the students’ spotlight.
Chan decides to ditch his blazer all together and pulls a hoodie over his head. He’s grown tired of the slacks and blazers-thing, he just wants to feel comfortable in public for once. Even if the store clerk is most likely going to recognize him, and Chan has a reputation to uphold, but not today. He just can’t find it in himself to care today.
The day is looking rainy as he steps out of the door, the thick, grey clouds cover the sky. Felix is waiting for him at the corner of the street that leads to the academy, and together they head for the music store a few blocks towards the city center.
“I see you finally decided to let go of your black little blazer”, Felix grins.
“I did”, Chan isn’t sure if he’s glad that Felix noticed the change.
“I don’t think I have ever seen you in normal clothes. I thought you don’t even own a hoodie.”
Chan simply scoffs at him and gently pushes his arm, Felix laughs that free laughter of his. It makes Chan feel warm.
Chan hasn’t been to the music store in a while, the last time he had bought some strings for his violin from there.
“Has the girl learned to play any better?”
“She has. I started to teach her a bit about piano recently. Her parents aren’t very happy about that, though.”
“Fuck the parents.”
“Exactly.”
They stroll around, Felix picks up music sheets from one shelf, Chan browses through the violins hung on the walls.
“Which one would you pick if you had to pick one?” Felix asks him.
“The electric one.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s different. I have two classical violins already, I don’t need a third one. And I’m not as stuck on playing classic pieces as you might think I am.”
“Interesting. You keep surprising me, Christopher Bang.”
They walk further into the store, there is a white grand piano, Felix tries its keys, plays a little bit. He then moves along to a few other pianos, tries them, too.
“This one. I like this one”, he mumbles, as he points out to the last piano in the row.
“Why?” Chan asks.
“It sounds softer. Gentler.”
Chan nods, he understands what Felix means. He remembers having similar kind of reasoning when he first chose his violins.
Felix snorts at one wall, where he spots a photo of Chan, from a few years ago, where he’s performing on stage. He’s signed it, as have the multiple other subjects of the other photos on the wall. The store clerk is a new one, he recognizes Chan immediately and his speech begins to stutter, as Chan stands next to Felix while he pays for his note sheets.
“Chill, he’s just an ordinary person”, Felix laughs at the store clerk, who flushes deep red and quickly apologizes. To Chan it’s a little awkward, because Felix is correct, he’s just a person, no need to be blushing and stuttering. He doesn’t… want to be perceived as just a famous violinist, but just as an ordinary person when he’s not playing on stage.
For some reason Felix’s comment makes Chan happy. Perhaps it’s in the way he says it, a little twinkle in the corner of his eye. To Felix, Chan is not just a worldwide famous violinist, to him he’s Chan. Just Chan. It’s in the way he says it, and it makes Chan feel warm. To him he’s not just his music, but an actual human being.
They head out of the store – right into the rain that has just begun.
“Oh come on, I wanted to go to the park to eat ice cream, it was so warm earlier today!” Felix whines, trying to cover his head with his hands. His hair has got quite long, his black roots untouched next to the hydrogen peroxide blond.
“We can go to my place and eat ice cream?” To be fair, Chan doesn’t really feel like strolling around the city today, or sitting in a café or the jazz bar, or a restaurant. Today is one of those days that he wants to spend in silence.
Yet somehow, Felix’s loudness does not seem like a problem to him.
“Oh? Yeah, okay, that’s fine by me.” He looks a little distraught, a little startled, perhaps, but Chan guesses it’s the initial shyness that he still remembers Felix to have had back when they had first met taking over him.
They hastily walk through the few blocks as the rain continues to pound the asphalt all around them, they stop by at the corner store to buy the ice creams before they reach Chan’s apartment building.
“That’s. No- Chan, that’s not it, is it?” It is not just any apartment building, it’s one of those fancy ones in the city, in a wealthy area.
“What else were you expecting?” Chan asks, laughing.
“I don’t know? How fucking rich are you exactly? God, the rent in these must be my yearly income or something!” Felix looks a little distressed carrying his ice cream and staring up at the apartment complex. Chan nods towards the glass doors, before they walk through them. One of his neighbors from the lower floors nods at them as he passes by them. Chan greets the security guard behind the counter, who nods at them in turn.
“Jesus. This is like a freaking hotel. You have a security guard and a front desk? We have just stairs upon stairs, not even an elevator!” Felix is appalled. Chan pushes the button to open the elevator doors, and they step in as the glass slides open.
“Why is everything made of glass?”
“I don’t know. Fancy, I guess.” Chan actually hates it but doesn’t say anything. His ice cream feels cold in his hand, as he takes his keycard from his pocket and swipes it against the reader beside the floor buttons. Then he presses the button to the 14th floor.
“Why the hell does this apartment have twenty-five floors? Why don’t I live here? This is so unfair, I hate wealthy people.”
Chan shrugs, he knows it’s a joke. He feels the elevator start moving and looks down to the only surface that isn’t glass.
“You don’t really like heights, do you?” Felix notices this.
“It’s not the heights. It’s the movement. I don’t have this problem with normal elevators”, Chan mumbles. It’s not something he’s kept secret, all of his friends know about his problem. Felix moves closer, just a bit, and perhaps it feels a little comforting.
The movement stops, they have reached the 14th floor. Chan walks up to the door that is closest to the elevator and swipes his card in the reader, he hears the signature noise of the door unlocking, the light on the reader flashes green, and then he pulls the door open. Felix has fallen silent as he follows Chan to the apartment.
Chan’s apartment is too big for him, meaning it could house at least three people very comfortably. The hallway leads to a sort of kitchen-living room, which is the “main point of the house”, as his landlord had told him. Chan takes his shoes off and walks though the little hallway to the kitchen (and living room) and sets his ice cream on the kitchen island in the middle. Felix follows him, still quiet. He looks around, looking like a lost child in the middle of it all.
“I mean, I knew you were rich and lived lavishly but what the fuck.”
Yeah, Chan knows his apartment is very modern, all of his equipment are the latest in the market and very high-tech. It’s not his decision, though, he’s actually the absolute worst when it comes at interior decorating, and the only thing he had brought to the apartment when he had moved in were his violins, bookshelves, and the grand piano next to the huge glass wall that opened the view to the city below their feet.
“What the hell, Chan?” By the waver of Felix’s voice, he knows he’s spotted the grand piano. Felix abandons his bag (and ice cream) and jacket and approaches the piano. It’s black, of course it is, it matches the interiors that are laden with dark, wooden colors as a contrast to the lobby and elevator that were bursting with white and gold and glass surfaces. Chan quite likes the interiors of his house, he’s not a big fan of minimalism, he prefers maximalism, but apparently maximalism would restrict the flows of creativity, so the one that had designed the apartment had taken the happy medium.
Ha. Creation. As if Chan has felt that flow through him in a while. He misses the feeling.
“May I?” Felix quietly asks, Chan nods, and he wouldn’t even be able to say no to those puppy eyes Felix is giving him. Felix seems to forget the fact that he’s dripping water as he sits on the piano bench in front of the grand piano and opens the fallboard. Hesitantly Felix presses one of the keys down, and Chan thanks gods that he remembered to tune the piano yesterday (yes, he has been trying if he could get anything new out of himself, but he has failed, as he has done so many times in the past half of a year). Chan pulls his wet hoodie over his head and throws it on one of the stools around the kitchen table. No, he’s not a very clean person.
Felix plays a few lines of a song Chan doesn’t recognize. Probably one of his own.
“Wow”, he quietly mutters, as he hears how the sound echoes around the room. Just a little, but enough to give that feeling of being nothing but a tiny human in the hands of the entire world.
“How come you never told me you had a piano?”
“I have told you. I just didn’t say it was a grand one.” And honestly, nearly everyone who composes, has a piano. The chords are easier to try out with a piano.
Felix jumps up from his seat and rushes to his bag. He pulls out one of his notebooks and runs back to the piano. Chan fetches his ice cream from his bag and puts it into the freezer along with his own ice cream, they have clearly been forgotten by now. Felix opens his notebook, a few sheets of music fall out and scatter on the floor, but he doesn’t mind them. Chan does, he goes to pick them up as Felix proceeds to play. Properly.
And for some reason, it makes Chan… feel. He’s not sure exactly what, but there’s something in him. He knows how oddly intimate it is, to play something you yourself have created in such a closed space to another person, when there are no other listeners. He’s not sure if Felix feels these things as well (or if he’s even thinking that Chan is hearing what he’s playing), but Chan feels his ears turning a little red. For once he’s thankful that his dark curls that have got a little too long are covering his ears.
It’s a good composition. Chan has heard thousands upon thousands of songs and compositions being played on multiple instruments, he’s heard good songs and bad songs and songs that are atrocious and songs that reach the gods. Felix is seemingly on his way to the last category, but not quite there yet. Chan can’t help but stare at him, stare at the notes in front of him, stare at his fingers moving across the keys, stare at the strand of hair that has fallen over his face. He’s beautiful, Chan realizes. He really is beautiful.
The song comes to an end, and the spell is broken. Chan returns back to the earth as Felix turns to him, a sheepish grin on his lips.
“Heh, sorry, I just had to try it.”
“By all means, I rarely use it these days.”
“Huh? Chan, this piano is meant to be used! I can’t believe you.” Oh, if only Felix knew. Chan simply laughs at him.
“That’s it, I’m moving in, and I’m bringing Jisung with me. I hope you like roommates and have a spare bedroom”, he continues.
“I do, actually, I have a guest bedroom next to mine.”
“What?! Show me.”
So Chan does. They walk through the livingroom-kitchen-space to a hallway that leads to one bedroom, which is just plain and boring and has one king-sized bed and a few shelves (Chan never uses it, his family and friends do, if they happen to drop by). Then there’s a bathroom along the hallway, and the last door leads to Chan’s own bedroom.
“Jesus Christ”, Felix mumbles, as he sees it. It’s really nothing, just the same dark colors, a lot of emerald green and golden details, Chan has forgot his clothing room door open. It’s not just the interiors that Felix is noticing, though, it’s the opposite wall completely made of glass.
“This must be gorgeous during the evenings.”
“It is.” And it really is.
Chan leads them back to the living room, and walks up to the grand piano, only to open the glass door that leads to the balcony.
“There’s so much glass. What if you stumble and accidentally smash one of them? Just smash your wall? Sounds expensive.”
Chan snorts, “They’re not your regular glass, they don’t break that easily.”
The balcony is covered by yet another glass wall, so the rain doesn’t get to them. There is a little table and two lounge chairs on either side of it. Felix simply shakes his head, he’s not having any of this, clearly.
“How do you keep the sun out? I mean, doesn’t it get super hot in here because of all the glass walls?” Felix asks as they step back to the living room.
“Curtains. And AC.”
“Ah. I see. I would like to have my ice cream now.”
***
The ice cream tastes good, Chan offers Felix one of his many hoodies which he gladly accepts after being soaked by the rain outside that doesn’t seem to stop. Felix can’t get enough of the grand piano, and Chan lets him play as much as he wants to, while planning the next day’s tutoring session for that one kid. Chan’s manager had suggested he’d take another student as well, or tell the academy that he was willing to teach a student they would pick, and he had said he’d think about it.
The sky above them turns, the world around them starts to fade into darkness. Felix realizes it’s nearly nine in the evening, they have literally spent the entire day together. Again. And it doesn’t even feel like it, Chan doesn’t notice the hours passing when he’s with Felix. It’s odd. He’s not sure if he likes it. It’s never been like this with Minho or Changbin (or perhaps it has, on those times when they have had so much fun that the hours have blended together, for example, on that one road trip around the country).
Felix is leaving, he still has Chan’s hoodie on, and Chan is not going to ask it back, as the evening is getting colder and Felix’s own clothes are still wet. The last thing Chan wants is that Felix gets sick before his last concerts.
“Wait, just a moment”, Chan says to Felix as he strides to the hallway. Next to the coatrack is a bureau, on top of it are a few pictures of Chan’s family, his keys and his wallet. Chan opens one of the drawers and hands Felix another keycard.
“You can’t get my door open with this, but you get through the security and up with the elevator.”
“Huh? I was joking when I said I’d move in with you.” Felix looks genuinely surprised.
“I know”, Chan laughs, “Every one of my friends and family have it, if you want to drop by sometime. Makes it easier, I won’t have to call the security to let you in and so on.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll lose this.”
“Be my guest, they don’t cost that much money.”
“Never mind, they cost way too much for me. See you, Chan, I’ll come practice with your grand piano every time I need to from now on.”
“You’re very welcome.”
***
He is very welcome. Finally there is someone to use the piano, someone to fill in Chan’s silence. Chan finds comfort in it. Chan finds comfort in Felix.
***
And then, one fairy night, May became June, as F. Scott Fitzgerald had once put it. Chan had decided to take up another student to tutor through the academy, of which the professors were very delighted about. Chan had heard the boy’s name a few times before, he was a good student, a good violinist, and he knew his music. Chan didn’t have any idea what he could possibly teach the boy to play even better, but somehow he did. And the boy adored him, oh, he did, apparently bragged to all of his schoolmates that Chan was teaching him. Even Felix heard about it.
Speaking of Felix, he had finally got out of school and was focusing on his gigs more. And Chan. He and Chan and Jisung went out for dinner after the two of them did their final concert for the year (Chan wasn’t initially going to tag along, but apparently Jisung had asked where he was since he wasn’t with Felix and then Felix had asked Chan to come and Chan did because for some reason he was suddenly up to do everything Felix would ever ask for). Felix came to play Chan’s piano a few times, they talked more about music, more about the world, watched a movie or two, one time Felix stayed the night. It was nice. Their friendship was growing closer, and it was everything Chan could have asked for. Everything he had needed.
Not because Chan had been lonely. Not because Minho’s and Changbin’s company wasn’t somehow enough. But because Chan had realized a thing or two of himself.
“Something’s changed in you.” Minho had voiced one evening, when they had been sitting at a bar close to his apartment.
“How so?” Chan had asked.
“You’re different. You… you seem more alive. Happier.”
Felix coaxed him out of his shell. Chan had no idea how he did it, but he did. Chan wasn’t so in his head whenever he was spending time with Felix, he wasn’t thinking about himself, his position in the world, his responsibilities, his misery. He was out of his head. Doing things because they felt good. Laughing. Smiling. Experiencing. Living in the moment. Felix made him live in the moment, not in the past, not in the future. In the moment. Chan had no idea how he did it, but god, did Chan owe the entire world to him.
***
17th of June. Chan’s doorbell rings at four in the afternoon, he’s just got back from his tutoring session. He skips to the door quickly, swings the door open and finds Felix standing there with a basket in his hand.
“Good afternoon!” He smiles, his yellow-tinted sunglasses on his blond locks.
“…Afternoon?” Chan asks, eyeing the basket in Felix’s hand.
“Today is the 17th of June and I promised to take you out on a picnic, and it’s sunny, so put on your summer shorts and let’s go!” A very convincing commercial, Chan figures. He simply stares Felix for a moment.
“I’m serious, by the way, not of the shorts part, you probably don’t even own those, but I promise you’ll get too hot in your fancy blazer and slacks so change up, boy, and I hope you own a blanket of some sort because I don’t.”
Felix lets himself in, Chan closes the door after him.
“Yeah, take the one on the couch”, he says.
“The green one?”
“Yeah, I’ll go change to something… worse.”
He hears Felix snort at him as he skips to his bedroom and changes his clothes to lighter ones, which means a white t-shirt and black jeans. He also takes his sunglasses from the top of the drawer opposite to his bed. He doesn’t need anything else for a picnic, does he?
He doesn’t, and the next thing he knows is that Felix is spreading the blanket on the grass at that same park they had sat and chatted and Chan had opened his heart, just a bit to him. Chan remembers people and places, not times. That had been a month ago, right? Or a little over? Chan sits down on the blanket, then proceeds to lay down, he feels the summer breeze against his skin. Felix giggles, most likely at him.
They aren’t the only people at the park, heavens no, it’s full of friend groups and couples and families, most of them sitting on picnic blankets, having fun. Felix spreads the contents of the basket on the blanket, there are grapes and cookies and a few sandwiches and juice and even a few cans of that cheap beer Felix usually drinks (which isn’t all that bad, to be honest, Chan just isn’t overall a friend of beer but doesn’t have the heart to tell that to Felix).
Picnicking is fun, Chan learns. There’s something about sitting in a park, Felix next to him, listening to the top list pop songs someone close to their blanket is blaring through their speaker. Felix talks about his gigs, Chan realizes he hasn’t stopped by the jazz bar in a while, and he also realizes that he hasn’t done that because he sees Felix on other occasions. So he clearly had only dropped by because of the pianist, hah, so much for knowing himself.
Chan drops half of his sandwich on himself, Felix cleans it off of him, then Chan proceeds to try to throw grapes right into Felix’s mouth, failing most of the time but gods, how fun it is! Felix’s yellow shades match his yellow shirt (yes, his favorite color is yellow today, Chan has learned it by now), his light-colored jeans are ripped, and there are patches sewn on them. Felix (and his friends, because Chan asks) have also written… everything all over his jeans.
Which is why Felix grabs a marker from his bag and hands it to Chan, and Chan has a short existential crisis of what to write, until he just draws a little violin and a heart.
“Aww”, Felix coos, before taking the marker, and Chan’s arm, and proceeds to draw a sunflower on his arm.
“That would look good as a tattoo!” He exclaims.
“Oh. Would it? I’ve never thought of getting a tattoo.”
“Last time you said that I promised to take you to picnic but unfortunately I will not promise to take you to get a tattoo because that takes commitment and you aren’t exactly the type of person to want a tattoo before contemplating it for a year.”
“That is correct.” And it is, it’s one of the worse things in Chan, he’s a little indecisive, and thinks through his decisions very thoroughly. In other words, he’s a little slow at making any sort of decisions.
The afternoon turns to evening, the amount of people starts to lessen, there are more groups of teenagers sitting on the park grass. Chan and Felix don’t mind them, they don’t disturb the two in any way. Except for the constant drunken yelling. C’mon, boys, it’s Tuesday evening. The chat has turned to music again, Felix talks about his new composition, how he’s been working on it and he could play it to Chan the next time he drops by.
It makes Chan wonder. Think. Should he ask? He craves for it. His inspiration. How does Felix get his?
“How do you get inspiration for your work? Like… how do you manage to write so much? Or rather, where do you get your inspiration from?”
Felix thinks about his answer for a while, he’s leaning against his other arm, a beer in the other.
“From everywhere. From the people around me. From the things around me. Last evening I saw a girl in a white, cute dress holding a basket of flowers, and suddenly I was transported to a small city in Middle Europe in the early 19th century, and then I wrote a song that fit that scene in my head. A few weeks ago I saw someone cry at the steps of a bar at the corner of the street that leads to my home, clearly drunk and out of their mind, but somehow that made me write the most melancholic piece I’ve ever written.”
Chan nods, he’s pretty sure that was the one Felix had played to him a few days ago.
“Sometimes I write about cute dogs. Sometimes just one line in the composition is written for that dog. So, I write about things I see, things I feel and experience. I rarely write things that uh… I’ve drawn from myself, if you understand what I mean.”
Chan understands, because he is the type of person, who draws his inspiration from himself. He’s always written everything about himself, about his grief, about his love, about his… feelings.
But he hasn’t written anything in a long time, because he hasn’t felt anything deeply in a long time.
Or has he?
Maybe Chan should try that way, too. Try to write the things around him, that aren’t related to him in any way. Try to put himself in someone else’s shoes, write about what they may see. Maybe that would finally get him that inspiration he’s lost back. Perhaps it wouldn’t bring his passion back, but it would help him work on his music, get back to the stage.
The topic turns again, it’s mindless things now, events, memories, the world, Felix finds out Chan has never done many things he has, and promises to show them all to Chan. He also asks if Chan would like to go see a movie next week, and Chan would definitely like to go see a movie with him, it’s been ages since he’s last been to a movie theater. The night falls around them, and again Chan realizes how the passage of time has no meaning when he’s with Felix. He doesn’t understand it, but he’s pretty sure he will at some point. They get up, Chan shakes the blanket to get any loose grass out of it, before folding it. It’s dark as they head out of the park, and in the street corner Felix turns to say goodbye to Chan.
Perhaps it’s the yellow light of the streetlights, perhaps something else, but it is in this moment that Chan realizes how beautiful Felix is. Not in the objective way of beauty, but just… inside out. He brings warmth wherever he goes, Chan knows that by now. He likes people, he’s good with people, he’s good at starting conversations of any topic. He glows. He’s everything Chan has ever wanted to be. Every quality he has ever admired in a person.
“I’ll head home. See you… I don’t know, next week? I have plans for the weekend with Jisung, so I don’t think I can drop by then.”
“Next week works fine. I want to go to that new restaurant before the movie.”
“Okay, deal. Good night, Chan.”
“Good night, Felix.”
***
July slips through Chan’s fingers faster than he anticipates. It’s filled with tutoring, his manager’s calls whether his personal reasons have already passed, and Felix. A few times Chan stops by the jazz bar close to his apartment just to hear him play. It has become a sort of habit of his – he doesn’t go there anymore for the sake of feeling the familiar atmosphere, he goes there for Felix. To watch him play. Hear him play. Of course, Felix also plays for him when he visits, on the rainy evenings their park strolls fail and on the days he doesn’t feel like doing anything.
Or well, Felix doesn’t play for Chan, but Chan would like to think he does.
Minho and Changbin drag Chan to a weekend trip out of the city, Chan spends nearly the entire time texting Felix, until Minho snatches his phone away and announces that the rest of the weekend shall be spent without courting. Chan tries to convince Minho that he and Felix are just friends, but Minho doesn’t seem to believe him. Chan has no idea why.
Felix takes Chan out to another picnic, and then to bowling because Chan has never been, and then to movies, and then to one of his favorite restaurants in the city, and to Chan’s joy, Seungmin and Hyunjin join them. Apparently Felix and Hyunjin are even better friends than Seungmin and Felix are. Chan thinks it’s nice to have somewhat new people around him.
Felix makes Chan do things he’s never tried before, and Chan figures that he should probably for once take Felix out to do something in turn.
***
August rolls in with ever so slightly colder winds and shorter evenings. Felix spends an entire week in Chan’s apartment because his and Jisung’s home’s water pipes are under maintenance. After that Chan flies to his family for two weeks, his mother tells him that he seems happier. More alive. As if he’s not in his head anymore as much, as if he’s returned to his own self.
Chan finds it reassuring. If he’s able to return to his own self, then perhaps he’s able to find his lost passion, too.
***
Before Chan really even notices it, it’s September. He has to wear his thicker coats out again. Felix’s academy year starts, Chan doesn’t like the fact that he sees it heaving down his shoulders, painting the glimmer in his eyes with the dullness of six o’clock mornings. It’s his last year, next spring he’s supposed to get his degree, become a professional pianist in an area he chooses. Chan feels a little bit of pity, he knows what kind of hell Felix is entering, the last year of the academy is ruthless and unforgiving, there’s no room for mistakes anymore.
That’s why he prepares dinner for Felix. It’s nothing too fancy, but it’s something, Chan still hasn’t had the chance to take him out or anything with all the traveling and Felix being busy. Luckily, it’s Friday evening, and Felix doesn’t have any gigs today, tomorrow he does, two, in fact. He’s got a new one again, and he’s so happy about it, because it’s one of those modern jazz bars, he doesn’t have to play simply slow songs that fill in the background, he gets to play creations of his own, and people dance to them.
‘Take him out’. Hah! They’re not dating, or anything, perhaps Chan should use another kind of expression.
Chan’s doorbell rings, he nearly runs to the door, as warmth tingles the tips of his ears. On the other side waits Felix, who clearly has been walking in the rain.
“Hey! Smells delicious!” He beams.
“Hey. I hope it doesn’t just smell; I cooked some dinner for you. I mean, for us. I mean, I thought you would be hungry since you have been at the academy all day, so…” Chan rambling? How out of the ordinary!
The smile on Felix’s face deepens as he steps in and pulls his shoes out.
“How domestic, Chan! Thank you, you’re right, I’m starving, and I was going to rob your fridge, anyway.” That’s why Chan has learned by now to buy a little more than just for himself. Then Felix peels the drenched jacket off of himself, and Chan realizes he’s still wearing that same jean jacket, and his shirt is wet, too, and Chan really doesn’t him catching cold, so:
“You need a hoodie?”
“Yes please.”
So Chan fetches him one.
They end up sitting around the kitchen table, Felix in one of Chan’s black hoodies that is perhaps a little large for him. His blond hair curls a little due to getting wet. He looks quite adorable, if Chan is being completely honest. Felix tells Chan about his day at the academy, he has a new assignment and an essay due next Monday, and he needs to practice with Chan’s piano a little. Chan, in turn, tells Felix about his two students who have both got better quite a bit during the summer, about a new book that he bought from the bookstore next to the academy (he’s taken quite a liking to fictional stories about crime recently). After they’re done with dinner, Felix basically skips over the floor to the piano, and lets his notes take him to another world.
Chan puts the dishes away as the piano plays in the background. It’s a nice change, usually he just listens to the wind and the quietness around him. After he’s done he retreats to the sofa on the other side of the kitchen-living room, next to the huge television, facing the grand piano. There’s another sofa, too, but if he were to sit on that, his back would be facing Felix, and Chan doesn’t want to turn his back to the boy, even if he could probably care less, as he was intently practicing for his next playing examination.
Chan picks up his book, starts to read, gets only a few paragraphs away before his mind starts to drift. It is not because of the music, he’s read plenty of times with Felix’s playing in the background not interrupting him. His mind thrifts, and so does his eyes, as they land on the pianist boy in front of the huge windows. He doesn’t even realize it, that his eyes wander around the boy, on the focused look on his face, on those fingers gliding across the keys with the lightness of a ballerina.
It’s funny, really, how much comfort Chan finds in Felix’s company these days. A year ago he had been so alone, and lost, and now he has this pianist boy accompanying him nearly everywhere. They have some kind of connection, Chan knows it, he feels it, but he’s not sure what kind it is. Perhaps that one of a soulmate? No, that’s too deep. They’re friends, really good friends. Chan has noticed it in the shared silences, in those kinds of silences that not even music is playing, and they just sit there, in the café’s, on Chan’s sofa, anywhere, really, just minding their own business, not lonely, but alone together. Chan likes it. He hasn’t felt that kind of comfort with anyone, really. They both know how to enjoy the silence, there’s no need to fill it. Not anymore.
Perhaps Chan is glad that he decided to give Felix that one chance over half of a year ago. The boy has yet to break the trust Chan has given him, and Chan really doubts he’d do that at any point. He’s always genuine, true to himself, Chan has learned that by now. And his career plans lie elsewhere, and even if Chan still could help, Felix hasn’t asked. He most likely isn’t going to ask, because, as he has stated himself, he wants to do it on his own.
But something has changed, hasn’t it? Chan knows it. Back then Chan would have not helped Felix in any way, but now? He might. He might help him, if he ever were to ask. If he’d ever swallow his pride and come to Chan to look for a way into the better circles.
And that scares Chan a little. He cares for this boy quite a lot, doesn’t he? He hasn’t cared for anyone that much in… ever. He hasn’t had time. Now he suddenly has time, and a boy waltzes into his life, makes it all so, so much better with just his existence. Is it thrilling? Is it exciting? Is it scary? Chan doesn’t know, but the heat tingling the tips of his ears at the sight of the boy playing his grand piano, wearing his hoodie, knows.
“Is something wrong?”
Chan returns back to the Earth from his thoughts, Felix has stopped playing and is looking at him with a quirked eyebrow. Oh, he has caught Chan staring, oh no.
“No, you’re just playing really well today”, Chan gently smiles, before leaning better against the soft pillow. He sees the little blush creeping up on Felix’s nose.
“O-oh, thank you.”
The silence, filled with the melody of the piano, engulfs them again.
*
That’s what they do for the next few hours. Felix plays, Chan reads, every moment and then he steals glances at the pianist. Then he finally focuses on the book, as the plot thickens a little, hours pass, Chan doesn’t notice the annoyed sighs Felix lets out as he has to restart the song as he plays something incorrectly (and it’s not even all that ‘incorrect’, Felix is just a perfectionist when it comes to his music).
After hours Felix stands up, stretches his back and glances at the clock on the wall. The sky has darkened outside, it’s quite late already. Felix gasps as he realizes the passage of time:
“Oh! I thought I only played for like two hours! It’s already over ten in the evening!” Felix looks genuinely surprised as Chan lifts his gaze from his book. It doesn’t surprise Chan, Felix is clearly the type to let the music lure him in for hours on end, to forget the passing minutes when his fingers dance against the keys of the piano. Chan knows the feeling, just hasn’t experienced it in a long time.
Chan, who’s nearly halfway over his book now, puts the book on the stand next to the sofa. Felix glances outside, runs a hand through his locks. He’s bleached them a few weeks back, the black roots are gone, it’s just nearly silvery blond now. The color fits him. Really well, actually. Felix sighs, it’s not a happy nor a content sigh.
“It’s so dark already… And it’s a Friday night…” Then he turns to glance at Chan, a little expectantly. Ah. He means he doesn’t want to go.
“Then stay the night?” It wouldn’t be the first time, nor would it most likely be the last.
“Oh, if you insist!” Felix laughs as he throws himself on a sofa. It tugs Chan’s heartstrings a little, that carefree laughter.
“I’m hungry”, Felix complains after a moment. “Can we have a sleepover? Like a pajama party? And watch movies? You don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow morning, right?”
“I don’t”, Chan chuckles at the pianist’s enthusiasm.
“Great! I want snacks! Let’s go to the corner store!”
And that’s what they do. Chan ends up paying for half of their snacks, even if he tries to insist on paying for all of them. He knows Felix still isn’t all that well off, and he is, but Felix is adamant, of course he is, that’s one of the things that make him so… him. Felix chooses the movie, nearly dozes off against Chan’s shoulder but wakes up, Chan notices Changbin is trying to reach him via text messages, but Chan ignores him. He’s spending time with Felix, Changbin can wait for now.
The film is one of those action ones with a boring love story on the side, it’s not good, but Felix has picked it, so it’s alright. It’s enjoyable, but not as enjoyable as most of Chan’s favorite movies. By the way Felix comments on everything, throwing around snarky remarks, Chan knows Felix isn’t enjoying the movie all that much, either. His comments do make it a thousand times funnier, though.
And oh, the lovers finally kiss and the movie ends, Felix sighs dramatically, and mumbles a “again with this straight shit”, which makes Chan laugh. He lets the end credits roll and stretches, so does Felix. He yawns, it’s late, they should probably head to sleep soon.
“Hey, can I ask you something personal?” Felix’s voice is much quieter than usually. Chan turns to look at him, his eyebrow slightly raised. A million possible questions race through his mind. He’s a rather private person, so he hasn’t really opened his heart all too much to Felix yet. A tiny part of him still is a little doubtful of everything, and that tiny part of him doesn’t trust people in general.
“Sure”, he still says. Felix is worth the trust. He has to be. Chan wants him to be.
“Have you ever dated anyone? Just, the movie, and then I realized we have never really talked about it.”
It’s not a topic Chan really avoids on purpose; he just doesn’t have anything to say about it.
“I haven’t.”
Surprise spreads over Felix’s features. It is somewhat unexpected to Chan.
“Huh? I thought you would have”, Felix mutters, before he hurriedly continues: “I mean, it’s not a bad thing, of course, you don’t have to date anyone if you don’t want to. It’s not an obligation. I was just surprised because… you’re you.” Chan doesn’t understand what the statement ‘you’re you’ means. He simply shrugs.
“I haven’t really found anyone. Nor have I had any time. I just… I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it all that much.” It’s the truth. Sure, there have been times when Chan would have liked to share his joys and agonies with someone, but he’s self-sufficient. He likes being alone.
Or perhaps he thinks he likes that because it’s all he’s ever been.
“And as you know, I’m not all that keen on getting to know new people and my social circles are really small, so… I haven’t had really anyone… that has caught my attention in that way around me.” Or has he? Chan finds himself doubting his own words.
“Oh, yeah, I know. You look really grumpy when you’re not smiling.” The comment brings that smile on Chan’s face.
“And oh, the stardom, of course you don’t have time for lovers”, Felix rolls his eyes, a grin tugging the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know, it’s just… Look, I’ve had this thought ever since before knowing you, and I have watched your performances and so on and you know the reason why you became extremely popular in the past two years, it’s just, you play like you have been through an unimaginably painful heartbreak. Like you have lost your wife and kids and house and everything in your life. Like there’s just so much feeling. You play like your heart has been shattered to a million pieces by a former lover. And I honestly thought that was also the reason why you didn’t want me… or anyone approaching you.”
The smile on Chan’s face turns to a sad one. A painful one. It wrenches his insides, pricks his heart with a thousand needles.
“It’s… uhh… It’s because my heart has been shattered.”
All of Chan’s closest friends know, so there’s really no reason for Chan to not tell Felix. Felix looks at him, eyes a little glassy, not moving. He’s waiting for Chan to continue, but he doesn’t want to push it. Chan glances at his hands on his lap, he can feel the pressure in his throat.
“Romantic love isn’t the only kind of love that breaks hearts.”
“Oh”, he hears Felix exhale next to him. Chan lifts his gaze back to Felix, then he glances at the bureau next to the other wall, underneath the paintings. On it are a few candles, and a few pictures. Chan nods towards it, Felix turns to look at that direction. Chan pulls in a shaky breath.
“It’s, uh… My dad. He passed away in November three years ago. He’s the inspiration for my playing.”
“…Oh.”
There’s a heartbeat of silence.
“I’m, I’m sorry, I didn’t know”, Felix hurries to stammer, he notices how painful the topic is for Chan.
“No, it’s alright. You would have found out sooner or later”, Chan gently reassures him. There’s another breath of silence, during which Chan contemplates if he should tell him everything. His brain is screaming at him to do so. He’s been carrying it, all the love, all the pain in him for too long, so long that he’s become numb to it. Maybe talking would help.
“It was an accident”, Chan decides to continue. His voice is quiet, he looks at his hands again. “A drunk driver. My father was crossing the street, I wasn’t there, I was at the last stop of my first tour. I got the call from my mom right after I was off the stage, there was nothing that could be done. He died right there, on the driveway.” Chan tries to swallow the lump in his throat down.
“He was supposed to be with me on the tour”, he breathes in a shaky breath, tries to stop the tears from forming. God, the memory is painful. Only if it would be this painful when Chan is trying to create. “He was the one that had always pushed me to do better and keep on playing and the one that had supported me the most. He was supposed to be there, on the last stop of the tour with me, but he had had to take care of some family business. And I…” I never got to tell him goodbye. I never got to accept all the flowers with him. I never got to see him again. I never got to tell him goodbye. I never I never I never I never-
Felix pulls Chan into his embrace, engulfs him in a hug Chan hasn’t even realized he has been craving for. Chan buries his head against Felix’s shoulder, tries to even his breaths as a sob breaks through him. It’s painful, oh, so painful, Chan’s fingers curl against the hoodie Felix is wearing as Felix tightens his hold of Chan. The little ministration, just that, makes Chan finally break down, let go of that little pride in him, tears down the walls he has spent years on building around himself, and he lets himself cry. He lets himself cry against Felix’s shoulder, because right now he doesn’t know anything better.
He misses his father. God, he misses him so much.
But all that pain, all that longing has turned to a numb mass inside of him, and he’s no longer able to turn that sorrow into music. That is the reason he doesn’t play. The reason he’s lost his passion. He doesn’t feel, not deeply.
“I’m so sorry”, Felix whispers against Chan’s ear, his fingers threading through Chan’s hair. It’s calming, it really is. So calming that after a while Chan’s sobs start to ease, little by little, but he doesn’t still pull away, doesn’t raise his head from Felix’s shoulder, because that comforting touch is what he still needs. Felix seems to realize that, because he doesn’t stop the ministrations, he doesn’t let go of Chan or ease his hold, not at all.
“Can you tell me something about yourself?” Chan whispers against Felix’s shoulder, still not pulling away. He just wants the topic to shift, it has become a little too painful, and he knows he won’t get out of that specific headspace unless he’s forced out of it, forced to think about something else. Applause works great, but right now, Chan only has Felix.
“I’ve dated once. And it’s funny because it’s actually Jisung who I have dated”, Felix says quietly, he understands Chan’s need to direct his thoughts somewhere else.
“We uh, you know, I have told you, we have been friends for ages and at some time during our late teenage years I realized I had a crush on him, and he had a crush on me, and we started dating. That went on for a year, until we just sort of… I don’t know. Fell apart? I mean, we’re still friends, really good friends, so I guess it was just sort of friends to lovers to friends -situation. You know, the passion and romance left but the friendship stayed.”
Chan nods against Felix’s shoulder.
“After that I haven’t dated anyone. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to, I would, I just… uhh, well I have technically… um… I guess I have found someone, but I’m not sure if that someone feels the same about me. Most likely not, but it’s a fun little feeling to have, a crush, that is. I’m not really expecting them to like me back, I guess. It’s just a nice feeling.”
Chan nods again, his breathing easing bit by bit. Felix’s voice is soothing.
“How’s your family?” Chan mutters, head still buried against Felix’s shoulder. He figures he’d like to know about Felix’s family more now that he knows about his family situation.
“It’s, well, nothing to brag about. I haven’t seen my parents in ages. They divorced when I was really young, neither of them really wanted me and neither of them certainly didn’t want me pursuing music, so that’s exactly what I did. I did live with my mom for most of the years, until I moved here, so I guess things are a little better with her. At least I see her like… once or twice a year. As for my dad, well, last time I saw him was five years ago and I don’t really miss him at all, he’s become kind of an abusive dick and I can’t find it in me to pity him.”
Chan wraps his arms around Felix, perhaps it’s as a reassurance, if Felix wants to cry too, he can. Perhaps it’s a signal that Chan hears him, tries to understand what he’s feeling.
“I’m sorry”, Chan mumbles in turn. He feels Felix’s chest rumble with laughter.
“Don’t be. I’m doing completely fine on my own. Besides, I had to choose between them and music and we both know which one I chose, and I have never regretted that decision.”
Chan hums as an answer, still not letting go, but loosening his hold a little. He doesn’t want to let go. Felix’s embrace is warm, it’s comforting, it’s… safe. Chan feels like nothing can get to him as long as he has Felix’s arms wrapped around him.
Ha, funny, he hasn’t felt that kind of comfort in years. How is it that he suddenly feels it in the arms of this pianist boy?
Perhaps he knows. Perhaps the fluttering in his chest knows. Perhaps the little smile that breaks through the sad haze knows.
***
Something shifts after that night. It fills the air in between Chan and Felix. It’s easier to breathe, easier to just be. Chan learns that Felix is actually very touchy, he loves hugs, he’s a little cuddlebug and will get close at every possible opportunity. Chan doesn’t mind it, in fact, quite the opposite, which surprises him a little. At one instant Felix realized that they hadn’t been quite so… close before and had apologized to Chan for overstepping his boundaries, but Chan had just shaken his head at him. He doesn’t mind the hugs. Especially when it’s Felix hugging him.
Which he finds odd. He’s never been that big on physical touch (or he’s just been touch-starved his whole life).
Something else shifts, too. Chan finds himself in Felix’s eyes more often than not. He finds his gaze lingering on the pianist, admiring his features, getting lost in him. It scares him, but at the same time it really doesn’t. Felix had mentioned that it’s a funny little feeling. Chan feels that, that funny little feeling, every time Felix sends him a “good morning!” -message, or drags himself through Chan’s door exhausted, just to slump in front of the grand piano. He feels it every time Felix wraps his arms around Chan to hug him as he’s preparing dinner for them.
It’s a funny little feeling, having a crush. It makes Chan afraid, yet so thrilled. It’s only been music that has ever made him feel even slightly the same. It appears in waves, lingers around the corners, finds Chan when he’s trying to fall asleep, fills his head with thoughts about the blond pianist boy. But does he feel it, too? Does he feel the same? He had said he did, feel that little feeling, but is it towards Chan? Or someone else? Felix hasn’t spoken of anyone else being in his life except for his few friends and Chan. Chan is unsure, and that uncertainty keeps him awake.
Chan is falling, and he’s quite sure he’s falling hard. One night, laying sleepless on his bed as he waits for a text from Felix, he decides to let it be. See where this all takes him. Let it flow at its own pace.
***
October paints the sky grey and the leaves in all the shades of orange. Chan loves autumn, in its melancholy it’s the most beautiful time of the year, the colors bring joy to him, and he can dress in his favorite woolly pullovers again. Felix hates them, “they’re itchy when I hug you”, “but they’re warm”, “I can be your source of heat” and it makes Chan laugh. And Felix is correct, warmth blooms inside Chan’s chest, and he’s the source of it.
One morning Felix sends Chan a text, hey, me and Jisung and some friends want to go check out one of those new restaurants downtown, do you want to join us? And Chan answers yes, because of course he does, and he needs to get out more with people who aren’t Felix or Changbin and Minho. Then he’s suddenly stressing of what to wear, because he wants to impress Felix’s friends (which is odd, and not like Chan at all),
only for Felix’s friends to end up being Hyunjin and Seungmin. It’s nearly laughable, and Chan quickly abandons the blazer on the back of his stool, because the place isn’t all that fancy either, and he looks a little out of place (thank god his stupid woolly pullover doesn’t). Seungmin is surprised to see Chan.
“You? Felix was talking about a friend but I gotta say I wasn’t expecting you to show up. I thought you’d be back at home.”
Chan simply nods at him, “Yeah, well, surprise, I’m Felix’s friend”
“You’re my friend, too!” Jisung adds.
“I’m Jisung friend, too”, Chan laughs, because it’s true, he is, even if he hasn’t met Jisung all that many times, they’re still more than strangers by now. Jisung is fun, he’s easygoing, a little shy at first, but loud once he gets over the shyness. Chan is fond of his company.
Chan is seated next to Felix, there’s a few empty seats next to him as the table they have is a little too large for their little group. Not, for long, though, because suddenly a very familiar voice reverberates through the air.
“Chan? What the hell! Why are you here?”
Chan turns to search for the source of the voice, and lo and behold, Changbin is marching through the bar-restaurant, Minho following him.
“Hello to you, too”, Chan laughs at the bewildered look on Changbin’s face.
“I can’t believe you have betrayed us like this and got new friends behind our backs!” Minho copies his boyfriend’s expression as they stop right next to the table.
“I can’t believe I have done that either. Uh, everyone, these are Minho and Changbin, Minho and Changbin, these are… everyone.”
The group exchanges somewhat awkward greetings, Felix sticks his hand out to greet the two as he’s heard the most about them:
“Hi, I’m Felix!” He beams with the power of a thousand suns and melts Chan’s heart.
“Felix!” Minho squints his eyes as he shakes Felix’s hand; “I have heard about you.”
“Only good things, I hope.”
“Unfortunately, I have nothing juicy on you.”
Chan definitely notices the side glance Minho gives him.
“Hm. It looks packed in here…” Changbin mumbles as his eyes scan over the restaurant.
“Do join us, there’s plenty of space still left!” Felix chimes, and Chan knows Minho and Changbin are more than happy to accept the offer (oh, he can not wait to receive around a hundred messages of this Felix guy tomorrow, Minho and Changbin have been bugging Chan about him for the past months continuously).
So the pair joins them, and suddenly their little group isn’t so little anymore. It’s a little awkward at first, but not for long, as the conversation flows, their drinks are brought to the table (apparently they’re drinking this evening), and Hyunjin appears to be quite a personality. Chan notices how Felix scoots a little closer, so does Minho, and smirks at Chan, who decides to turn his attention back to Seungmin, who’s talking about the latest project he’s part of. Oh, he’s so going to hear about this, and he’d have to tell about the little feelings growing inside of him, because he knows Minho sees right through him.
The bar-restaurant is nice, it’s not a high-end one, just one of those little restaurants around the corner that somehow always end up being one’s favorite. Chan has a feeling this one place will be just that for him. The walls are warm brown, the smell of food wafts through the air, the room is filled with peaceful chatter. There’s a piano in the corner close to them, along with a few armchairs. One wall has a shelf full of boardgames, another is full of paintings and pictures that fit the theme. Between tables are situated large plants that add to the peaceful atmosphere of the restaurant. Chan likes it. It’s cozy. And the food is good, too. And Felix is warm next to him.
“Hey, can my friend Jeongin join us, too? He lives around the block and said he’s lonely?” Hyunjin chimes into the conversation at some point.
“Yang Jeongin?” Chan asks.
“Yup. The one who plays with you”, Hyunjin smiles, and it doesn’t take more than five minutes for Jeongin to arrive through the doors and plop down to sit next to Hyunjin. Now there’s eight of them around the table, and it’s finally full. It feels really nice, Chan hasn’t had this many… friends? Surround him in a while.
At least he hasn’t had this many people around him that don’t have any intentions on using him as a leverage to get to the stardom, because most of them are already there.
“Great to see you here”, Jeongin greets Chan with that signature smile of his.
“Great to see you, too. How’s the job I got for you?”
“It’s fine, but I miss you. I miss playing with you.”
“I’ll get back to it. I promise”, and he does that with a slightly ruddy nose and a smidgen of hope that he doesn’t have to break that promise to Jeongin. He misses the boy, too. And he misses playing.
And his inspiration. His passion.
The minutes bleed into hours, the awkwardness is long gone as the table is filled with laughter, Felix’s nose is red and his gaze a little hazy, he clings onto Chan’s arm as he listens to Jisung, and then to Hyunjin, and then Chan has something to say, and more laughter, Minho butts in, even more laughter. It’s comforting, Chan likes this. He could get used to this.
“Chan, I wanna play…”, Felix mumbles into Chan’s ear at some point, and tugs the sleeve of his shirt. His tolerance for alcohol is clearly worse than Chan’s. Chan glances at the piano, sitting alone in the corner, there’s no one sitting in that corner, nor are there any tables too close to it. He can feel the pressuring gaze coming from his left, and he knows it belongs to Changbin.
“Alright”, he answers, even if he doesn’t know what Felix means by it.
Felix stands up and pulls Chan with him, Chan lets him drag him by the sleeve of his mustard-colored woolly pullover through the restaurant and in that corner. The piano bench is wide enough for both of them to sit on it, though Felix ends up nearly sitting on Chan’s lap and Chan isn’t entirely sure if it’s accidental or not. He opens the fallboard to reveal the keys of the little piano. Or well, it’s not little, but it’s not a grand piano. Just an ordinary piano.
Felix presses one key down, then another. A giggle escapes him as he realizes the piano is perhaps a little out of tune. Not in that way that a regular listener would notice it, but Chan and Felix, having been playing years upon years now, certainly notice it. Felix decides to not let it bother him.
“What should we play?” He asks, his words stammer a little.
“We?”
“Yeah. I want to play with you.”
Chan thinks about his answer for a moment. That moment is clearly too long for Felix, who seems to immediately come up with a song and starts to play it. Chan recognizes the song, too, it’s one of those ones that he’s learned at the academy, that everyone learns at some point. Felix sits on his left, playing the song in lower range, so Chan reaches for the keys in higher range, and starts to play with Felix. The music blends in together, creating a beautiful harmony.
So beautiful that it pulls Chan in, brings out all the memories, makes him forget the world around him, like music has always done to him. He plays the song, his fingers moving delicately across the keys, he doesn’t even realize the world around him anymore. Wow, he hasn’t felt like this in a while. Is it the alcohol buzzing in his veins? Is it Felix sitting next to him? Is he… is he finally finding his passion?
No, he shall not think that, not that far ahead. He doesn’t know what it is, but the music, so familiar to him simply flows through him, his surroundings fade away. When the song finally stops, Chan realizes he’s been playing alone for awhile now. He turns to look at his companion, and finds Felix staring right at him with a fond expression written all over his features. All of a sudden Chan feels a little shy under his stare.
“What?” He mumbles quietly.
“Nothing”, Felix whispers. His eyes linger, until after a few heartbeats he turns away.
“Do you remember your third act from the last tour? Can you help me learn it?”
Chan remembers it rather hazily. He remembers the first melodies, yes, but not the entire songs, not with a piano.
Doesn’t mean he can’t try.
“Sure”, he mutters, and starts to explain the melodies, plays them on the piano. He has a feeling that Felix isn’t really listening, and his feeling turns out to be true, as he tells him to try it in turn. Felix plays the first line correctly, and the second wrong. Chan explains it again, he gets it wrong again.
Chan hesitates for a brief second. Would he dare? Does it cross the whatever boundary is still in between him and Felix? Would it be too much, would it scare the pianist away from him? Felix whines when he plays the song wrong again, and Chan decides to go for it. So he circles his arm around Felix, places his hands on Felix’s hands (notices how small they are compared to his own), and leads his hands against the keys, mumbling aloud how to play the song. He’s close, really close, and he’s not sure if he’s focusing on playing all that much, when he feels Felix in his embrace, his hands underneath his own, gliding against the keys. The world fades away again, it’s just him, Felix, and the piano. Nothing else matters at that moment.
God, he’s really fallen. And he’s fallen hard.
“I think I got it now”, Felix whispers, so Chan, perhaps a little reluctantly, moves his hands away. He doesn’t back away, though, no, he stays there, perhaps it’s the alcohol in him pulling him towards Felix like gravity, but he stays there, close to him, as close as he can get. Felix continues playing the song, Chan rests his other hand on his other side.
Until Felix stops for a brief moment, just to take that hand, and place it on his waist.
Chan’s breath hitches. Felix lets go of his hand and returns to playing, he had been lying, when he had said he didn’t quite catch it, hadn’t he? And now, here is Chan, his arm wrapped around Felix, sitting next to him, listening to him play. In a moment of bravery, he wraps his other arm around him, too, and places his chin against his shoulder. God, there really is no backing away anymore, is there?
The song changes, flows into another one. Chan can feel Felix leaning against him. It takes a moment for Chan to realize that he knows the song.
“I played this the evening when I first saw you”, Felix mutters, so quietly Chan nearly misses it.
“It’s a pretty song”, Chan mumbles, tightening his hold of Felix a little. How did he end up in this situation? How did the night turn into this? How did Felix remember that little detail?
“It is, isn’t it? It’s called Pas de Deux.”
***
Chan would like to say that he gets used to the new feeling present in his life, but he can’t say that. He doesn’t get used to it, no matter how many times Felix smiles at him and hugs him from the back or plays him all of his songs. He just doesn’t. The feeling doesn’t leave him. The crush. The infatuation, whatever you might call it. It’s odd at first, scary even, because it takes a moment for Chan to understand that he has felt like this for quite some time now. The feeling hasn’t just magically appeared, it has been growing with him for the past months, and Chan can’t pinpoint the exact moment he first felt it, that tug on his heartstrings. It could have been when his eyes first met Felix’s at that jazz bar, for all he knows. Or months later.
What he does know, is that in the summer he had already started to feel it. Now that he recalls back to the events, back to that park and underneath the streetlights, there already had been that feeling back then. Not so strong, but it had been there. And it has just grown for the last months, getting deeper, growing stronger, taking space for itself in Chan’s heart. It’s thrilling. Scary.
It makes Chan doubt, it makes him a little anxious. It makes him think too much. About what? Felix. And himself. And how he acts around him, what he says to him, everything. Felix notices that one evening, “Why are you so tense?” “Oh, it’s nothing” “Nothing? I’m not buying that”, and after that he had dropped it, and decided to continue practicing with the piano.
But it’s always Felix that pulls him out of that doubt, too. By wrapping his arm around Chan. By dozing off against his shoulder during a movie. By dragging half of his belongings into Chan’s apartment because he’s apparently too lazy to go home and Chan’s house is conveniently close to the academy. Chan doesn’t complain, quite the opposite, actually. The only thing separating the two anymore is the fact that they sleep in different beds.
And the fact that, well, officially, they aren’t anything. Chan doesn’t know how Felix feels, or if he feels anything at all. Sure, he can piece together with his zero experience on all things love that there is something. The things between him and Felix aren’t just Chan’s imagination, there’s a pull, and it goes both ways. But how intensely does Felix feel it? Does he see god every time he looks Chan in the eyes? Does Felix doubt things like Chan does? Does he doubt himself?
Chan sure as hell does. If he doesn’t doubt Felix’s feelings, he doubts himself. Felix has a grasp of how it feels to be in a relationship, Chan does not. Chan fears he’s not able to give Felix everything he wants and needs simply because he’s inexperienced. He’s afraid he’ll do something wrong, wait for too long or push things too hastily, he’s afraid of accidentally hurting Felix in any way.
And then Felix rings his doorbell, dripping water because of the rain and tells Chan he’s had the worst day ever and engulfs him in a wet hug and sighs against his shoulder, and Chan thinks that maybe he’s not doing anything wrong after all.
***
November is ashen grey, and it heaves Chan’s shoulders down. With every passing day, as the 12th approaches, he can feel tightness in his throat. It lingers around him, brings him close to tears every evening. He feels numb in those moments that he’s alone, and as soon as Felix steps over his threshold, everything is a little better again.
Until it isn’t, and not even Felix’s sunshine gets him through the days. He can’t hide it, he tries, but he just falls apart underneath the mass of grief, as it engulfs him once again. It reminds him of the time exactly three years ago, only then the pain had been much more devastating, much more intense. Now it’s… bearable. Heart wrenching, but bearable. Or perhaps Chan is just numb to it now.
No, he isn’t. He isn’t numb, Felix has made him realize that. He feels. Again. He feels pain. He feels grief. He feels… love. How else would he describe it, if not love? It’s not the typical, in-depth love yet, it’s shallower, but it’s love. Love towards a friend. Love towards a person, who’s made one become more oneself again. It’s love, Chan decides that. He isn’t numb. Not anymore.
The days pass, Felix notices Chan’s silence, but doesn’t say anything. He visits just as frequently, spends nights at Chan’s, bakes for both of them (it’s his new hobby). That certain day approaches steadily with the passage of time, and Chan contemplates if he should as Felix to… to do what?
“Would you like to visit the cemetery with me tomorrow?” He whispers one evening, staring at his hands.
“Of course.”
***
The cold air pricks Chan’s fingertips, makes his toes tingle. The atmosphere around the cemetery is restful, it makes Chan feel somewhat at peace. It’s the evening, it’s a little foggy, the lamps are lighting their way as they walk through the cemetery. There are a few other people in there, too, someone has been buried in one of the graves along the pathway just recently. Gravel scrunches underneath Chan’s steps. He’s gripping the candle in his hand with a little too much vigor. There’s a lump in his throat, he doesn’t say anything, neither does Felix.
They reach the other end of the cemetery, there’s a memorial for those buried elsewhere.
“He’s back at home”, Chan whispers, his throat straining. Felix just nods. Of course, Chan could have flown back home, but he had chosen not to, because it wouldn’t have changed anything. He’s let mostly go, it doesn’t make any difference if he’s staring at a memorial or his father’s actual grave, he’s not coming back either way.
Chan crouches down, takes a lighter out of his pocket and lights the candle. He covers the flickering flame with his other hand so that the November wind won’t blow it out as he puts the cap back on the candle. He sets it down in front of the memorial, before he stands up again. The flame flickers, but doesn’t go out.
The strain in Chan’s throat grows stronger as he stares at the flame with glassy eyes. He’s no longer able to say anything, he squeezes his hands into tight fists as a tear escapes his eye, rolls down his cheek. Felix notices this, and takes Chan’s hand into his own, lets Chan squeeze it instead. And Chan does. God, he does, because all of a sudden it’s the memories flashing through his mind again, the pain nearly makes him double over and break into sobs, but he holds himself together. He misses his father. He misses him so much, and there’s nothing he can do about it, except continue forwards because that’s what he would have wanted. For him to continue playing to the crowds, continue doing what he loves.
They hold hands the entire way back home, through all the metro stops, through the walk back to Chan’s apartment. And as the door closes behind Chan’s back, he lets himself finally break down, he lets himself finally cry in Felix’s embrace, again.
***
Even if November is ashen grey and sorrow finds its way to Chan’s heart, it’s also filled with warmth. Felix, with his presence alone pulls Chan through the hazy days back to the reality around them:
“Hey, look, they have started to put up the Christmas lights! I love Christmas lights! We should get some for your apartment, too.”
“There’s a new cat café at the city center, let’s go check that out!”
“Hey, I found a movie we should watch!”
“The sun is out! Let’s go for a walk!”
“Have you ever been roller skating? Let’s go!”
“How’s your day today?”
“I found a book you might like, or actually Jisung recommended it to me, but it’s more of your type, I think.”
“Don’t you think it’s thrilling? The air smells like snow. I bet it’s going to snow tomorrow!”
Felix is correct, the next day white covers the ground entirely (only for it to melt away the next day). Chan meets up with Minho and Changbin, who are thinking of moving in together. Their little meeting ends up in Chan’s apartment, around the kitchen table, and Felix is there, too, and Chan’s heart feels full, he feels content, he has the most important people in his life around him.
“So are you guys finally dating or why the hell is the pianist boy all over you all the time? I saw you holding his waist when he got up, by the way, don’t try to lie to me”, Changbin bites as Felix leaves to go to the bathroom. It takes a moment for Chan to gather his words:
“We’re not.”
Neither of his friends look convinced.
“Look, it’s just… we’re letting things fall into places on their own time, you know? We’re not rushing it.”
“Have you two talked about this?”
“…No.”
“Chan…”
“I know, alright. It’s just… I don’t think there’s much to talk about. We both know there’s something going on, that’s it. We’ll make it official when the time is right.”
“Are you absolutely sure he knows how you feel? We all know you’re not the best at showing your feelings to the people around you.”
“I-“
But Chan doesn’t have time to answer, because the bathroom door unlocks, and Chan hears Felix’s footsteps from the hallway.
Does he know? He has to. There’s no way he’s doing… all that without knowing that Chan reciprocates his feelings, there’s no way he’s doing all that without having… feelings for Chan. Minho and Changbin, even if they’re getting to know Felix, don’t know him as well as Chan does. He has to know, he lulls himself into that thought, because deep down he’s too afraid to say anything, too afraid of rejection.
The days pass, the heavy feeling lets go of Chan as the month approaches its end. Minho’s and Changbin’s words are left behind as the fondness in Felix’s eyes warms him up every time their gazes meet at the jazz bar, Chan sitting in that same corner, Felix up on the stage with the piano. One evening Chan joins him, sits down on the piano bench with him (“Is that Christopher Bang? The violinist? I didn’t know he played piano, too), and plays one of Felix’s songs with him. Chan isn’t sure if it’s the dim lights of the jazz bar, but Felix looks nearly enchanting next to him, so bewitching Chan nearly leans down and lets Felix know his feelings via actions. But he doesn’t, because deep inside he’s still a doubting coward.
And in the middle of it all, an itch grows. In the middle of all the feelings, Chan comes to a realization, sitting alone in his apartment with the Christmas lights illuminating the room (Felix had insisted on buying one huge tree and filled with it ornaments, and now Chan’s balcony has lights, too, and there’s more lights on the wall behind his back and around the windows of his apartment and now Chan doesn’t need to have any lights on because there’s so many decorative lights in his house, and yes, it’s still November, but Felix had wanted the decorations up already). That realization creeps to him slowly, startles him as it grips him.
He’s humming. He’s humming while he’s cleaning his violin, making sure all the strings and his bow are in a perfect condition for tomorrow’s tutoring session. He’s humming, and he’s not humming to a song he knows.
He looks up. On the coffee table in front of him is a familiar notebook. Chan hasn’t opened it in months, hasn’t even dared to touch it.
Now it’s calling to him.
Chan sets his violin next to him, it’s quiet all around him. He reaches for the notebook and the pen next to it. He hesitates, just for a brief moment, before he opens the notebook, scrolls through the pages filled with songs, until he finds an empty one. He stares at the empty page before closing his eyes. He tries to remember what he’s just been humming,
and the notes come back to him. They flow through his mind with ease, with so much ease that Chan opens his eyes and begins writing them down. With every note he writes on the sheets he feels relieved. He feels heaviness that has been sitting on his shoulders for the past year letting go of him, heaviness, that he hasn’t even realized to be there. He’s writing. He’s writing music.
He’s writing music!
He’s feeling!
He’s feeling again! The realization makes him shake to his very core, take in a shuddering breath, as the notes keep pouring out of him, it only takes minutes for him to finish the first verse. He’s feeling, and it is not that familiar grief he’s feeling, that grief he’s drawn all of his music for the past three years from.
It’s different, it’s explosive, it takes Chan’s breath away. He’s feeling, and he’s writing, and before he has time to think, he takes his violin from beside him, positions it against his shoulder, feels the weight of the bow in his hand. He’s feeling, and he’s feeling deeply, whatever lock inside him has finally been opened, he’s feeling and oh, Chan knows the reason for it, he knows it very well. That reason has a smile brighter than a thousand suns and a tendency to pull Chan through his worst times.
Chan takes in a deep, wavering breath, and after that, his apartment is, for the first time in forever, filled with the sounds of a violin.
***
During the second week of December, the ground is coated with a thick layer of snow, and Chan has a feeling it’s going to stay, at least until Christmas. Or well, it’s not perhaps a feeling, he more so hopes it will, snow is one of those things that make Christmas feel like Christmas, even if he’s not a huge fan of those festivities. Not for any particular reason, it’s just always been a little… too excessive for him. Too many people, too many things to do and too many gifts to buy and so much stress and traveling and so on.
Yes, Chan loves people, but he gets quite easily exhausted by them, too. Especially with his own family, not his mother or his sister, but with his many cousins and aunts and uncles and so on. He gets very easily sick of the “Oh, will you play for us? Will you sing for us?” -thing, because Christmas is one of those times when he’d like to just calm down and enjoy the peace and relax with his family. But no, he doesn’t get that.
Except apparently this Christmas, because his mother announces that she’ll be traveling abroad to spend the holiday with her childhood friend underneath a palm tree and his sister has her own close family and Chan just decides to fuck it and not to travel back home. At least he’ll get his solitude this year. His quiet. His peace.
***
An idea pops into Chan’s mind midway through the second week, but he’s too shy to express it to Felix. He might not like Christmas all that much, but he still isn’t that fond of spending it alone. But there it is, that little spark of doubt again. Will Felix stay in here for Christmas? Will he go to his mother? Chan doubts it. Felix hasn’t spoken of his other relatives, maybe he’ll spend it with them. He likes Christmas, so he’ll most likely want to spend it with someone he’s close to, with all the joy around him. Chan is quite sure he’s not able to bring all that joy around him.
It’s the evening, they sit in silence in Chan’s living room, Felix is scrolling through his phone, Chan is reading a book. His notebook is on the table, Chan has touched it only once in the past week, he’s still scared of it. Last time he had been able to write, too, he had been perfecting the song he had come up with in a whirl of emotions two weeks ago. Felix sighs, he’s been sighing the whole evening, he hadn’t played as long today with the piano.
“What’s wrong?” Chan finally asks, something is off, and since Felix doesn’t seem to want to initiate conversation, Chan does.
“Nothing”, Felix mumbles, still staring at his phone, but Chan doesn’t believe him, there’s clearly something in his mind that bothers him.
“I’m not buying that”, Chan puts his book on the coffee table in front of him and shifts his full attention to Felix. Felix remains quiet for a few moments, before he finally mumbles, so quiet Chan nearly misses it:
“You don’t think I’m just using you, right?”
Chan doesn’t know what to say, and before he has time to think, Felix continues;
“For fame or… for money or tips or anything. You don’t think that, right?”
“No, I don’t”, Chan answers, his brows knitted together in confusion. He had thought he had been pretty clear about that; “Why are you asking this?”
“It’s just…” Felix sighs and pulls himself to a sitting position from where he has been laying down: “You know… People talk. They have seen you with me at the jazz bars where I play in and they know that I hang out with you a lot and… they talk…”
“You mean the people at the academy?”
“Yeah…” Felix bites his lip, he stares at the table between them, doesn’t look up, “It’s just… I have heard them say things like I should stay away from you if my talent isn’t enough to get me into the music circles and that you’re stupid for hanging out with me and… I know they don’t know you or me or us and I shouldn’t listen to them but…”
Oh.
“You’re right about two things, they don’t know anything about us, and you shouldn’t listen to them”, Chan mutters, before he stands up and circles the table to sit next to Felix.
“I don’t think you’re using me. You’ve pretty much only seen me at my worst throughout this year and you’re still here, so I don’t think you’re using me. And you have said it yourself, there’s no bad intentions behind you getting to know me, you just want some company. People talk, and people will always talk, that’s just their nature, don’t listen to them.”
Felix nods, he still doesn’t look up. Chan can see his eyes getting glossy, so he pulls Felix into a tight hug, he feels Felix gripping his shirt and burying his head against his shoulder. A single sob wavers him. How long has the boy been keeping this in? Chan feels bad for him, so he tightens his hold, just a little more. He’d love to kiss the worries away, but the coward in him keeps him from doing that.
“You’re one of the closest people I have in my life, alright? Don’t listen to the others, you’re not using me”, he instead mumbles against Felix’s shoulder.
***
“Hey, what are you doing for Christmas? Are you leaving for your family?” Felix chimes from behind the kitchen counter first thing in the morning. His hair is messy, there’s toothpaste on the front of his pajama shirt (which is Chan’s shirt, actually).
“Nothing. My mom told me she’s traveling and my sister wants to spend it with her own family and I don’t feel like traveling to them just to play Christmas carols through the entire week to all of my relatives.”
“Good! You’re going to play stupid Christmas carols with me the entire week, then!”
Chan nearly bursts of joy.
***
On 22nd of December Felix drags his suitcase through Chan’s door.
“I’m moving in”, he announces, with a glimmer of mischief in the corner of his eyes.
“As if you haven’t done that already”, Chan nods towards the pile of clothes on the laundry basket that certainly don’t belong to Chan. Chan knows Felix is joking, but he sort of wishes he wasn’t. It’s odd, at the beginning of the year he was so used to being alone in silence, and not every moment that Felix isn’t accompanying Chan feels so… empty. Chan had never thought he’d be one of those people who find so much comfort and happiness in the presence of another person, as he had always been one of those people to do everything alone. Oh, how wrong he had been of himself.
“I need to go play at that one bar today but otherwise I have nothing, the jazz bar we usually go to booked someone ‘better to play for the holidays’”, Felix slumps down on the sofa after they’re done with eating lunch. “Do we have any plans? What do you usually do on Christmas?”
The ‘we’ makes Chan’s heart flutter.
“I… uhhh… Well, usually I just meet basically my entire family tree and we spend time together and so on. Nothing too extraordinary.”
“Okay, that’s going to change because we’re going to have a movie marathon. That’s what I usually do, I have been spending Christmases alone for a few years now. Except for that one Christmas where I hung out with Jisung’s family.”
Chan nods, he doesn’t feel too sad about Felix spending the holidays alone, because he himself had told him that he hadn’t been sad about it. Sure, he loved Christmas, but he more so loved the decorations and the feeling than the actual holiday. Chan has a feeling it has something to do with his family relations, or rather, the nonexistence of them.
“I actually…” Chan swallows, he tries really hard to not stumble and get stuck with his words; “I was actually thinking if I could… take you on a date?” There it is. The implication. Felix raises his brow at him, an amused grin playing on his lips.
“A date? Where?”
“That… one restaurant you have been talking a few times about. That one at the top of the skyscraper.”
Felix keeps quiet for a moment, before a horrified look spreads over his face.
“Chan! I don’t even have money to ride the elevator up there!”
“That’s why it’s a date and I’m paying.”
“I don’t even have clothes for that! It’s bougie as hell!”
“You have forgot that I own at least five different suits for different occasions, I think we can find one for you. And it doesn’t even require a suit just… something formal-ish.”
“Okay but I’m also smaller than you, the jackets are going to look stupid on me.”
“Well they better not, because I have already booked a table like two weeks ago.”
“Without telling me?!”
“Yeah, it was supposed to be a Christmas gift… I guess it still is.”
“I hate you so much.”
“Sure you do. And since when have you cared about what you look like and other people think about you?”
Felix opens his mouth, closes it again, opens it again, and Chan realizes what he’s about to say:
“No, don’t say that. I don’t care what you’re wearing when you show up anywhere with me, and neither should you. “
“But…”
“No buts. The tabloids and rumors and people will never be satisfied no matter what you look or how you dress, so it’s just the best to not care for them.”
They have talked about this before, not very in-depth, but Chan is aware of Felix’s insecurity. He thinks that he’s going to tarnish Chan’s reputation as a world class violinist just because they’re seen together, and he doesn’t fit the typical criteria the academy pushes on its students, and therefore to the world class musicians all around them. Chan thinks it’s absolutely bullshit, and he adores Felix and the way he rebels against the system with his colorful sweaters and thrifted jeans. He doesn’t care about the people and what they have to say, his reputation isn’t going anywhere just because Felix isn’t fond of pretending to be rich just to fit in.
“…Alright”, Felix finally gives in.
***
The nervous tension on Felix’s shoulders loosens up minute after minute, as he realizes that no one in the restaurant is sparing them a second glance. He fits in with his little red blazer and black slacks, and Chan has made sure earlier that they got a corner table, far from the center of attention. The soft yellow lights cast shadows on Felix’s face, making him look enchanting. The window next to them opens them a view of the skyline, the city below their feet (yes, Chan has paid extra for that table, but he knows it’s worth it).
There’s a glass of wine in front of both of them, because Felix had insisted on taking whatever Chan wanted, and Chan wanted wine, so Felix took that, too. The waiters in the restaurant mostly recognize Chan (or perhaps it’s better to say that they recognize his name), but the other customers don’t (or they’re smart enough to realize Chan is spending time with his beloved- no that’s a little too hasty – in private). There are mostly young couples in the restaurant, those who don’t go spend time with their families and don’t yet have their own children, and a few elderly people. It’s quiet, relaxed, or as relaxed as a luxurious five-star restaurant can get.
It takes quite some time for the two to get their orders. Felix’s eyes sparkle in the Christmas lights above their heads, Chan finds himself enchanted. They exist slightly differently than usually – Felix is quieter, more alert and aware of his surroundings. He gazes at the white grand piano at the corner, clearly put there just as a decoration, Chan knows from his eyes that he’d love to play it.
Chan can’t lie to himself, as much as he hates flaunting off one’s money and social status, he quite likes the restaurant. He likes the atmosphere. He likes the crystal of the wine glasses, he likes luxury. He likes fancy things. What he does not like is the people associated with such luxuries, nor the capitalist system that defines it wholly and doesn’t give access to those luxuries to every person. Perhaps he’s a little selfish like that, after all, he could be giving his money to those in need yet instead he’s buying himself and Felix the whole skyline and a bottle of expensive champagne.
Maybe Chan should feel guilty, but he doesn’t. After all, he already regularly donates money to those in need.
The food arrives, they talk softly, too afraid to break the atmosphere hanging above them in the air. Soft piano music fills the gaps left by silence. Felix’s bracelet glimmers golden, so does Chan’s ring in his middle finger. There’s shyness between them. Giggles, too long gazes. There’s something in the air around them that makes them act like that. Perhaps it’s because they both know that this is a date, they are officially on a date, on Christmas Eve at a fancy restaurant.
They’re on a date. There’s officially something going on between them.
Has been for quite long now, though, but now it’s official, it has been said, formed into words (and to someone like Chan, that is a huge step forwards, he’s never been that good with words). It’s still a little scary, but oh, so thrilling. It’s time for dessert, and Chan finds himself reluctant of letting go of Felix’s hand as their fingers are entwined, Felix has been measuring their hands and come to a conclusion that his hands are smaller. Chan had taken the opportunity and interlocked their fingers.
Perhaps Felix accidentally gets some mousse on his cheek and perhaps Chan wipes it away for him, it’s sappy and sweet and Chan feels a little lightheaded. Perhaps Chan helps Felix put on his coat after paying for their dinner, and perhaps he once again interlocks their fingers as they walk out of the restaurant to the elevators. He feels a few gazes at the back of his neck, but he doesn’t mind them – he’s with Felix, of course he doesn’t.
The city around them is unusually quiet. There’s snow falling down in huge flakes, they get stuck on Felix’s hair. Chan doesn’t have the heart to brush them off, they make him sparkle underneath the city lights. They simply accentuate the magic within him. They decide to walk all the way home as the weather is pleasant, it’s not too cold, and it’s beautiful. And they don’t have to hurry, they don’t need to go sleep early, they don’t need to be anywhere the next morning. The spell of calmness still lingers around them as they enter the park close to Chan’s home.
Then Felix decides to break that spell as he throws a snowball right at the back of Chan’s head and runs away laughing through the park. Whatever shyness is gone, Felix is back to his mischievous, own self, the one Chan so much admires. Chan grabs handfuls of snow as he runs after Felix, the other boy screeching with joy as Chan misses his back with only a few centimeters. A few steps after Chan tackles Felix, they both fall into the soft snow and Chan showers Felix’s entire face with snow as a payback.
He wishes he could shower him with kisses instead.
***
“May I?” Felix’s soft voice travels through the room. He’s sitting on the sofa, they have just finished watching one of those horrible hallmark Christmas movies, it’s closing into evening. Chan realizes he hasn’t changed out of his pajamas yet, and decides he won’t even do that. It’s Christmas day, after all, he has nowhere to go as Felix is with him, in his pajamas, too, sitting on his sofa.
Chan turns to him as he’s just about to take some leftovers for them from the fridge. Felix is pointing at the notebook on the table. Chan’s notebook. The one he pours his soul into. He swallows.
May he? Chan’s entire being is in that notebook. On those pages, in the form of notes, creating songs after songs.
It’s a sign of trust, and Felix knows it, too. He knows Chan, he knows how personal that little notebook is to him.
“You may”, Chan finds himself answering, turning away from Felix, the tips of his ears tinting red. He trusts Felix, and now Felix knows that, too.
He fumbles a little, unsure of what to do next. What is he even doing in the kitchen? Right, Felix had said he was hungry.
“You’ve started writing again.” It’s not a question. Chan has a habit of marking the date at the top corner of the pages, just to keep track of his own progress.
“I have”, Chan admits. He can feel the burn at the back of his neck. Why? It’s not something to be ashamed of, he’s a musician, after all.
He hears the pages turn, there aren’t that many new songs, but Felix hasn’t seen the old ones either. Read them. Heard them.
“What made you pick up the pen again?”
You.
“Uh, I don’t know. The inspiration just… returned, I guess.” Coward. What a coward you are, Christopher Bang. How are you ever going to make sure he knows what you feel, if you don’t tell him? Chan opens his mouth again, but the words get stuck in his throat.
“That’s good.”
Chan wants to tell him, no, he has to. It’s a physical need, but it’s just… so incredibly hard for him to get the words out of his system.
“These pieces are so good. You could easily play these instead of the ones you play.”
Chan snorts: “They aren’t that good, just some flow of consciousness.”
“What are you saying? I bet these sound incredible on any instrument.”
Chan feels the warmth on his cheeks. They’re not bad, but hey, it’s Felix complimenting him.
“Does this mean we’ll see you back on tour next year?” Felix grins.
“…Maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”
“Do I get a VIP pass to the backstage if you return to the stage?”
“Absolutely.”
Chan hears Felix giggle, he’s still going through the pages. Chan hopes Felix ignores the stupid little hearts on the margins.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, but why don’t you actually play your own songs? I mean, these are good. Really good. I know playing old stuff gets you places and listeners, but you already have the audience, why continue with Vivaldi?”
“Because I like Vivaldi.”
Felix looks up, Chan leans against the kitchen island in the middle. There’s a slight questioning look on Felix’s face.
“Honestly. I like playing his stuff, along with Beethoven and Bach.”
“Alright, I forgot how boring you are.” There’s laughter in Felix’s voice, Chan doesn’t take his words seriously.
“It’s uh… writing music for me is sort of… a ritual, I guess? Every player has their own, that’s mine.” And now he’s opening his heart about his own music to Felix. Wow. He knows no boundaries anymore. Felix nods, encourages Chan to continue.
“I don’t know what it is, but if I write, then I’m able to play. If I can’t create, then I… can’t play. I guess it has something to do with inspiration. Passion. Or something.”
“So you have lost your passion in the last year?”
“…Yes”, Chan swallows.
“Hm. But now you’re gaining it back?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the reason you have been a little reluctant to speak about your playing in the past months, I believe?”
Oh, Chan is so see-through, and Felix sees more than Chan thinks.
“…Yes.”
Felix nods, turns his eyes back to the notebook.
“These older songs are more… melancholic.”
“They are.”
“And these new ones are happier.”
“They are.” Oh, if only Chan wasn’t such a coward.
Then Felix stands up, strolls over to the grand piano, before Chan has time to say anything. And honestly, why would he? He nearly chokes on his breath as Felix plays the first notes, he recognizes the melody immediately.
It’s a song Chan has written while thinking about the warm feeling inside of his chest. While thinking of the boy sleeping on his sofa through the movie he himself chose. About the pianist boy that had played his song wrong when their eyes had first met at the jazz bar a few blocks away. He’s written the song while thinking about Felix, and Felix doesn’t know that, because Chan is too much of a coward to tell that to him.
He’s insecure, he doubts himself, he’s terrified of rejection, even if the logical part of his brain knows there won’t be any rejection. Maybe the time just isn’t right. Chan wants to tell Felix, but the air in between doesn’t feel ready yet. They’re flowing at their own pace, maybe his words should, too.
The melody plays, Chan can remember it without looking at his notes. Felix has his back towards Chan, as he plays the song, a little lost in his own world already. Chan’s music is very different from Felix’s, it’s slower, calmer, very new for Felix. Chan glances at the violin case leaning against the kitchen island, before he reaches for it. With slow, precise hands he unclasps it, opens the case and takes his violin and bow out. Should he? Maybe it could convey the same thing as words. At least for now.
Felix doesn’t notice as Chan approaches him, stands behind him, positions the violin against his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, he isn’t capable of putting it into words how intimate this feels for him. He doesn’t play for people like this. He doesn’t play with anyone besides Jeongin, and then it’s to an audience of hundreds of people. He doesn’t really… play for anyone else besides himself or the audience, there’s no in between. And now he’s about to play to Felix, and it tightens a knot in the pit of his stomach and makes his mouth dry, as if he’s playing for the first time ever for an audience.
He sets his bow against the strings of the violin, and begins playing, picks up the song from where Felix is going. Felix takes in a deep breath, clearly taken aback, as he hears the sound of the violin from behind his back. He nearly loses his track, Chan steps to stand next to him, the piano melts in with the violin. With every movement of the bow, with every movement of Felix’s fingers across the keys, the knot loosens up, and the music flows through Chan, easier with every passing second.
And soon, it is just as easy for him as he has remembered it to be. It fills him with immense joy, with relief, and Felix can visibly see how Chan’s shoulders loosen tension, how a little smile tugs the corners of his mouth. He’s playing, and he’s playing for Felix. The music comes to him with ease, the bow moves across the strings with passion once again. Chan feels like he’s able to breathe again.
He realizes that Felix’s hands have stopped moving across the keys, and he’s only looking up at Chan, with a gentle smile on his face. Chan lets the music come to a stop as the song ends, fade into nothingness. He feels a little winded, a little breathless, why is Felix looking at him like that?
“What?” His voice is quiet.
“Nothing. I just don’t think I have ever seen you enjoy playing your violin as much as now.”
***
And so, a year has passed. It’s been a year since Chan first saw Felix. It’s the 30th of December, and a year ago Chan’s eyes had met Felix’s at that jazz bar, and he had had no idea of what was about to come. And now he’s in front of that jazz bar, waiting for Felix as he had had to go fetch something from his home. He has a gig in an hour, and perhaps Chan has his violin with him. “Would you like to try playing with me? Just to see how it feels”, Felix had yesterday asked, and Chan had nodded. He’d like to try playing with him. In front of an audience for the first time in months. Properly.
Chan has also decided something. He’s going to speak his mind tonight. He has to, the time feels right, something in the universe has shifted in his favor. He feels that tonight the words will flow out of him, he wants that Felix actually gets to know what he feels. As much as he could do that with music, he doesn’t trust his capability of creating as much as he trusts words. He speaks softly, and not much, so the words hold a special meaning to him. He wants to let Felix know how much he actually means to him. And he’s going to do it tonight.
Something has shifted during Christmas once again, and as a familiar figure turns around the corner, Chan’s heart skips a beat. A smile spreads over his face, most of Felix’s face is covered with a fluffy scarf that belongs to Chan. He’s holding on to his backpack, the streetlights make his blond hair appear yellow. He waves at Chan, as he walks through the street as fast as he can. For some reason Chan feels so… sure. Not of himself, but about them. He’s going to tell him. He has to.
And oh, it all happens so fast.
Stupid little Felix, with his stupid little backpack and eyes that only see Chan. He doesn’t realize the light in the intersection still hasn’t turned green, oh no. Chan watches. He watches as Felix, with his scarf wrapped around his throat, his backpack sliding on his shoulder steps on the driveway. He watches as the headlights of a car coming from the left light Felix in their pale light, he watches, as the terror spreads over his features, and that same terror grips Chan’s heart so hard he nearly convulses.
Chan hears, oh, he hears the car horn, he hears the tires of the car screeching. He hears the gasp that leaves him. He hears the surprised yell that escapes from Felix’s chest, as the hood of the car collides against his side. He watches, as the car crashes against Felix, he watches as the car drags his beloved a few meters before halting to a stop, and Felix slumps down on the ground.
Chan’s mouth tastes like ash. He stands there, frozen. Time stops. All the sounds around him fade away into nothingness, he only feels the horror gripping him harder and harder. With every passing second it gets harder to breathe.
“Felix?” He whimpers.
Someone yells, another car stops next to the fist one, the driver gets out. Someone pushes Chan’s shoulder, call the medics, someone yells, it’s a blur.
“Felix?” Chan whispers again. His dear Felix, who was just about to cross the street, to come to him. Chan has so much to tell him. He has to speak his heart out to him. Why is he there? Why is the car there? Why is he on the ground? Why isn’t he getting up?
Why isn’t he getting up? Chan drags in a breath forcefully. Why isn’t he getting up? Why isn’t Felix getting up? Why is he on the ground?
And it all comes crashing down in a second.
“Felix”, Chan whimpers again. He’s on the ground, there’s a car, he’s… he’s… on the ground? Chan’s limbs start moving before his brain registers it, he hears someone yelling, there’s another car, there are people, Chan pushes them off of his way, his violin case is abandoned on the sidewalk, he squeezes through people; “Felix?”
There’s blood. Everywhere. Someone’s hunched over Felix, holding his head. Why isn’t he getting up?
“Do you know this guy?” someone asks him, Chan nods, he hears static, his limbs feel too heavy.
“The medics are on their way.” Medics? But Felix- he was just- he’s just-
Chan slumps down next to him, “he’s still breathing”, someone says,
“Felix?” Chan whispers again, takes Felix’s hand. There’s blood on it. It feels lifeless in Chan’s hold. Terror wraps its cold hands around Chan’s throat and squeezes, and finally, finally the situation starts to set in.
Felix got hit by a car. He got hit by a car. He’s laying there, on the ground, lifeless, the car next to them is still running. He got hit by a car. He gothitbyacar-
“Felix?” Chan leans closer, the other guy lets go of Felix.
“Felix, do you hear me?” Chan’s voice sounds foreign in his ears. It’s merely a whisper, so he tries a little louder:
“Felix, do you hear me? Please nod, do- say- I-“ He hiccups, his vision is getting blurred.
This can’t be happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. Felix is- he just- he’s not- he’s not, he can’t, no. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening, it isn’t, it isn’t, but why is there blood on Chan’s hands?
“Felix?” Chan tries again. He gets no answer, and it upsets him, why isn’t Felix answering? He’s not, it’s not, he can’t be, he can’t, Chan has so much to tell him. He has the entire world to offer to him. He can’t possibly- no- the universe can’t do that to him. It can’t take him away from Chan.
“Felix, wake up, please”, Chan whimpers again, he feels his phone buzz in the pocket of his trousers, he feels the warm blood soaking his hand as he holds Felix’s cheek. There are scratches on his face, Chan tries to wipe the blood away from his features.
“Felix, please, I- you have a gig and I-“ Chan swallows, “I have to tell you something”, he croaks, his voice breaking in the process as a sob escapes from his chest.
“Felix, wake up, please?”
But he doesn’t. He doesn’t wake up. He doesn’t get up and smile and say everything is alright. That it’s just a stupid joke. He doesn’t wake up, it’s not a joke, just as wasn’t that call Chan three years ago got from his mother that his father had been in a car crash. And now, Felix is laying on the street, right next to Chan,
and he looks so peaceful. He looks like he’s sleeping. Another sob breaks through Chan.
“Wake up, Felix”, he whispers one more time. There are sirens somewhere far away.
“You have to wake up, I-“ I still haven’t played my favorite song to you. I still haven’t bought your favorite flowers to you. I still haven’t told you how much I love you.
“I-“
“Hey, dude, I think you need to let go-“
“No-“ Chan whispers. Felix, for some reason, looks so beautiful, even if there are scratches all over his face, even if his blond locks are soaked red with blood. He looks peaceful. “No, nonono”, Chan whispers again, his hold of Felix’s hand tightens. He can’t- he can’t let go, he can’t, if he let’s go, then- then-
He can’t lose Felix. He can’t lose him. There’s just- this isn’t happening. This isn’t right, Chan has so much to tell him, he can’t lose him, not him, too, he can’t, he really can’t, “No, nono, no I can’t, I-“, he hasn’t told him how much he loves him, he can’t lose him, the universe can’t be that cruel to him!
“Hello, please let go of the young man”, the voice travels around Chan, he doesn’t realize it’s meant for him. Felix’s skin flashes in hues of red and blue. Chan is shaking. He can’t lose him. He really can’t lose him. Not this way. Not this way again.
“Sir, I need you to let go of him.”
“No, I can’t, I-“ But his pleading goes to deaf ears, as someone pulls him back from his shoulders and Felix’s hand slips through his fingers. Chan watches as it drops on the ground,
lifeless.
No.
This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.
This can’t be the end. This isn’t the end. It can’t- Chan has so much still to say to Felix. He has so much to tell him.
This isn’t happening.
Felix can’t be dead.
“Felix?” Chan whispers, once more.
But he gets no answer.
***
Pain.
It’s the easiest thing to write about.
It comes in many different forms, and therefore it’s easy to write about. Pain isn’t just being hurt, it’s a lot of other things, Chan has figured that out by now. Pain is loving. Pain is losing a loved one. It’s grief, the kind that cuts deep and leaves your soul aching. It rips your heart to pieces and tears it from your chest. Leaves you sobbing on the sidewalk.
Pain is being afraid. So afraid it keeps you awake for nights, so afraid it sets your every nerve on fire and you can’t do anything except stare forwards with glassy eyes, as your loved one is dragged into an ambulance on stretchers. Afraid is hearing the medic mumble “This isn’t looking too good” to a colleague, as you’re on your knees on the cold ground, your hands soaked in the blood of your loved one.
Pain, in a way, is also waiting. Chan still doesn’t know how he ended up in the hospital, or how his violin ended up there with him. He knows he got turned away, “come back tomorrow, it’s late already, he’s in the surgery, it will take some time and he’ll be asleep for quite some time, go home”, and in the end Minho and Changbin had taken him back home. He doesn’t remember calling them. He hasn’t slept. At all. He has been waiting, the people at the hospital took his phone number, they promised to tell him anything, everything, because they couldn’t get contact with Felix’s parents.
Pain is waiting, with your heart in your throat for any news.
And at five o’clock the next day, he had got a call. A call, which had dropped him on his knees, nearly sobbing into the phone.
“He’s woken up.”
Only for him to fall asleep again.
It’s the evening, the clock is ticking on the wall, signaling the passage of time. It’s useless, because the fluorescent lights of the hospital room make Chan forget the time. He hates hospitals. He hates the way they smell, how everything is so white and clean and sterile surfaces, he hates how he feels he doesn’t belong there.
The chair he sits in is uncomfortable. He’s still wearing the same clothes from the day prior, he hasn’t had time to change them, he’s been too busy worrying. He hasn’t eaten anything, he hasn’t slept. He’s just been waiting for the call, and after the call he had rushed back to the hospital as fast as he could, leaving Minho and Changbin behind.
There’s a table next to him, on the table are a vase of flowers and Chan’s notebook. It’s open, there are at least five new songs written in it. They’re all about the same thing – fear. Being afraid of losing someone. A monitor beeps somewhere in the next room.
The last one of those new pieces isn’t just about fear, though. It’s also about hope. Hope, that had spread all over Chan’s chest as he had got that call from the hospital a few hours ago. He had spent his night in uncertainty, no one had told him anything, and apparently it had taken quite some time for them to call him overall. “Yeah, the patient asked for you, sorry, it took so long”. Chan doesn’t blame them, he’s not listed as a close relative or anything, of course they wouldn’t call him immediately.
But he’s alive. And that’s why the last piece is also about hope.
Felix is alive, he’s breathing evenly in his sleep next to Chan.
Felix is alive, there are scratches all over his face from where he had collided against the asphalt, his other hand is covered in those scratches, too, and his other leg is broken from at least three different places. It had to be operated on, that’s why it had taken so long for Felix to wake up. The recovery would take a long time. And Chan is ready to spend that time with Felix.
Otherwise everything should be pretty much fine. He has a concussion, naturally, the impact with the car wasn’t a small one. According to the doctor he got really lucky, not everyone would have made it out alive from that situation. Chan still doesn’t know how or what to feel.
He nearly lost Felix. He nearly lost him the same way he lost his father. Chan nearly lost Felix.
Chan feels awful. Jittery. He tries to focus on the notebook and the pen in his hand, he’s still perfecting one of the pieces he’s written, but his focus always eventually shifts back to the sleeping figure, back to the last night. Back to the pain, back to the fear. He nearly lost him.
The nurse comes to check up on Felix every once in a while. His body simply needs sleep, that’s what the nurse had told Chan, surgeries take a lot of energy. Chan wants to say he’s being patient, but he isn’t – he wants the boy to wake up so badly. The little fear still hasn’t let go of him. What if he won’t wake up? What if he’ll just stay asleep and Chan will never get to talk to him again? He needs reassurance. Chan needs him to wake up, to look at him and smile and say something, anything. He needs reassurance-
“Hrmph”, Felix’s head turns, Chan’s focus is immediately back on him. Chan takes in a deep breath, just as Felix’s eyes slowly flutter open. He squints, scrunches his nose. There’s a plaster on his forehead where the cuts are deeper.
“C-Chan?” Felix croaks, as he turns, with much difficulty, his head towards Chan. Chan’s heart skips a beat, suddenly a hint of panic rises from the pits of his being, what is he supposed to do now?
“Felix”, he whispers, “you’re awake.”
“Yeah.” A smile spreads over Felix’s features, but the smile doesn’t last long, as the cuts and scratches on his face start hurting.
“I-“, Chan swallows. He doesn’t know what to say. Felix is awake, and that alone fills him with relief. He’s awake, he’s in pain, but he’s awake.
“Hm?”
“I-“ I thought I was going to lose you? Maybe Chan should finally open his mouth. Get the words out of his system. “I… I thought I was going to lose you.”
That same, so familiar smile spreads over Felix’s face again.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily”, and oh, how the answer is so like him, too. Chan hears talking from the hallway, the curtains in front of the windows in Felix’s hospital room are drawn. Every now and then Felix hears fireworks going off outside, sees them far away. After all, it is the 31st of December. New Year’s Eve.
Felix knows what’s up, he knows his leg is broken and he has a concussion, so the situation doesn’t really scare him. Chan really admires Felix for that, he knows he himself wouldn’t be that calm in that situation. Or perhaps he’s still tired. Which he probably is. Or the reality hasn’t set in.
“I thought they’d take you with me into the ambulance like they do in all those movies.”
“I guess I don’t count as family. Or perhaps the movies aren’t correct, after all.” Oh, how Chan would love to be family.
“Oh, that’s sad. Fiction is so much better than reality.”
“Did they say anything about your… recovery yet?”
“Just that it’s going to take a long time and I should get out of the hospital in a few days. Depends on my leg. And I don’t know what I’m going to do because our apartment doesn’t have an elevator and I live on the fourth floor.”
“You’re moving in with me for the time being.” Chan doesn’t mean to say it immediately out loud, but there it is. Felix simply stares at him for a moment.
“Well, I guess I’m moving in with you for the time being. Just because you have an elevator.”
“Yeah, just because I have an elevator.”
“And I need to cancel all my gigs, I guess. I can’t play with my entire leg in a cast, unfortunately.”
Felix seems to have it all figured out. He’s so… easy. He doesn’t take stress about these things, he doesn’t think about them too complicatedly. Felix finally realizes he has buttons on his bed and gets himself to a sitting position.
“Huh? It’s nearing twelve? I thought I was asleep for only a few hours. You have waited for an eternity!” And Chan would wait an eternity more.
“Yeah. The year is about to change.”
“I can’t believe I’m spending it in a hospital bed. At least I have you.”
Felix’s eyes travel from Chan to his notebook, and then he realizes the flowers next to him.
“Don’t tell me you brought flowers.”
“And if I did?”
He reaches for one of the flowers, takes it out of the bouquet. It’s yellow, and:
“These are my favorites! How did you know?”
“You mentioned them some months ago and I remembered them to be your favorites.”
“You’re unreal.” Chan doesn’t really know what Felix means by that, but there’s fondness in his eyes.
Exactly 24 hours ago Chan had still been certain he’d lose Felix, like he had lost his father. But no, here the boy is, in front of him, living, breathing, there are a few scratches on him, and his leg is in a cast, but he’s alive. And he’s smiling again, and Chan wants to pull him in a hug and never, ever let go of him.
“I need to tell you something”, Chan breathes out. His one chance had been taken for him, and he decides that this will be his second.
“That I look dashing in a hospital gown?”
“No, but that, too.”
“What is it?”
Despite the calm and happy aura, Felix still seems a little tired, there’s pain in his eyes. Of course, even if he’s constantly getting painkillers, some of it seeps through. But Chan just… he has to tell him. Felix needs to know, with actual words that can’t be lost in translation with music.
“Felix, I…”
Chan swallows. He’s been going over this in his head for days now, the words should simply flow out of him, but they don’t.
“I need you to know that…”
Felix reaches for Chan’s hand, Chan scoots closer with his chair and takes his hand. It’s warm. It’s not soaked with blood. It’s not lifeless. That thought gives him power to say what he’s been meant to say for the past month.
“Felix, I need you to know that you’re incredibly important to me. I mean…” That’s one awkward way to start, “No, I mean… Look, when I first met you, I was at a really low point in my life. And somehow you… I don’t know how, but you dragged me through that low point simply with your presence. You made me realize things of myself that I still hadn’t at that time, and you for some reason saw something in me that I didn’t see in myself. And I want to thank you, for seeing me as myself and not the world-class violinist everyone else does, and for… sticking with me and… just being with me. Filling in my silence with your piano playing. For being yourself. For coming to my life. I…”
A brief silence, Felix squeezes Chan’s hand, encouraging him to continue:
“I know that you know I’m not the greatest with words, but I’ll try. I. I know there’s… something in between us, something far more intimate than just friendship and I just… Felix, I need you to know that I… I really like you.”
Another brief silence, Chan looks up from their interlocked fingers into Felix’s eyes. He continues, with a voice that is barely louder than a whisper.
“I think I am actually in love with you.”
The clock ticks on the wall, Felix simply stares at Chan with wide eyes. There’s wetness gathering in the corners.
“Thank god, because I wouldn’t have known what to do if you were to tell me you don’t actually like me”, he finally mumbles, horrified look spreads over his features as he realizes he said it out loud.
“I really like you too, Chan. Actually, I think I’m in love with you too.”
He is? Why is that a surprise to Chan?
“Why do you look so surprised? We have been acting like a married couple for the past two months!”
“I genuinely don’t know, I. You like me too?”
“Yes! You dumbass!”
A wave of relief washes over Chan. He has finally told Felix what he’s meant to say to him for the past months, and finally he can say goodbye to all of those doubts he has had growing inside of him, bringing him down with every passing minute he’s spent alone. He likes Felix. Loves him. And Felix loves him back.
Chan doesn’t even realize the stupid grin that has spread on his face, before Felix giggles at him:
“Come here.”
“Hm?”
“I can’t move, come closer.”
So Chan does, because he’s ready to do any and all Felix is to ever ask him, and as he leans forwards, Felix grabs him by his face with his hands and pulls him in to a kiss.
It’s fumbling and tumbling and Chan has to brace himself against the edge of the bed to not fall over Felix as their lips meet. It’s stupid and Felix is giggling half of the time, and there are a million butterflies in Chan’s stomach, “I have waited for so long to do this”, Felix mumbles against his lips before he kisses Chan again, this time with less giggling, and more passion.
With so much passion that Chan feels it flowing through him. Chan’s eyes flutter close, he presses himself a little more against Felix. Felix’s lips are a little chapped, but soft, he smells of blood and Chan’s shampoo. Chan lets his other hand take a hold of the back of Felix’s neck, thread through the blond locks. Chan feels like bursting of happiness. He’s kissing Felix. He’s not imagining it, he’s actually kissing Felix, and he pours all the love that he can muster up into that kiss, all that love he still isn’t able to form words around. He’s kissing Felix, and Felix is kissing him back, and in its surreality it’s so normal, it’s something expected, something that should have happened a long time ago.
Chan is the first one to pull back, just a little to catch his breath. He presses his nose against Felix’s, carefully, he tries to not put pressure on any of the scratches. His thumb caresses the soft skin on his cheek, and perhaps there’s a little, sparkly tear in the corner of his eye. He’s quite sure love is going to be the next feeling he’s going to write his songs about. Felix plants a little kiss on Chan’s nose, then kisses him on the lips again, before he giggles. It’s airy, feathery, better than any music to Chan’s ears.
Then the little spell around them is broken, as the sky outside explodes in different colors, and they hear cheering from one of the rooms along the hallway. The clock has struck twelve. The new year has begun. Before Chan has time to say anything, Felix pulls Chan into another deep kiss, so deep it curls Chan’s toes and makes his insides tingle with sparks of electricity. A new year’s kiss. Huh. Chan had never really imagined himself to be one of the people that receive those.
“Happy New Year, Chan”, Felix mumbles against his lips.
“Happy New Year, Felix.”