Chapter Text
The voice of the violin.
Taehyun would recognise it even with his ears covered. He remembers how it all started off as an innocent act of play and an equally simple act of watching. Taehyun didn’t want to be a musician. He just happened to fall in love.
The moment Beomgyu’s fingers touched the strings, his destiny was decided.
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It’s been Taehyun’s twelfth summer of living on earth, and all that he can think about is that his essay will be the most boring of all when the summer ends. Three days in the Korean Music Camp, and he wants to wail in the depths of the sadness.
Just to be clear, Taehyun is not like other musicians—he doesn’t like classical music the same way others do, meaning he is not obsessed with it—he even thinks that maybe he’s somewhat deaf, because how can he be the only one who doesn’t get what it means to see all the beautiful colors of it or how it is to feel everything that a piece can give? It’s just music sheets, the perfect rhythm, and the mindless following of the composer. He doesn’t know how it is to be able to love it.
Every time he hears that to kill his boredom (and annoyance), he, perhaps, should sit in front of the piano; he swears to do a flip and land on the black and white keys to be banned from attending any classes or rehearsals. It's not even because he doesn’t like practicing. His mom, for God’s sake, forbids him from having such an awful and disrespectful thought.
But it is summer. The most exciting season, and it is his first time at the music camp he’s been secretly dreaming about for a while. He worked so hard to get in, to meet people, and to meet someone who could finally teach him this secret language of music. And everything that Taehyun gets is a disappointment. After three long days of the same routine that his sweet-not-really-tiger mom forces on him, which means he’s not allowed to leave the house until he spends a solid six hours repeating the same octaves on the piano until they are perfect, until he dreams about the notes engraved into his fingers.
The summer is supposed to be cool, and adding the music camp—where he’s finally free from his mother’s grip—should make it even more exciting. He learns well enough that not all wishes come true.
So, as any curious and energetic 12-year-old kid would, he decides to sneak around and go for a walk. The adventure is calling out to him. Maybe he will be punished for it, but at least he will have a story to tell. It takes him two failed and one successful attempts to sneak out of the camp, and, finally, he’s having a journey—a real almost-teenager experience.
His curious eyes gauge every building, every shop, and he smiles, drunk on his freedom and small escapade. And then he hears it.
Shamelessly, unexpectedly, the voice of the violin comes crushing without a warning. All over again. It resonates in space, seeps in-between the midst of the wind. It calls for him, and Taehyun is helplessly pulled in.
He catches a glimpse of him. The boy with the messy, overgrown black hair is jumping on his feet with the violin in his hands, and the whole neighbourhood is merely spellbound watchers. It’s definitely him , and Taehyun is irritated. He made him a musician, he was the only reason why Taehyun traded the freedom of summer for the Korean Music Camp, and he met him in the street out of all possible places.
How annoying. How alluring.
Danse macabre. He’s heard a lot of it, nothing spectacular, but this violinist does it anyway—puts this charming magic into the creation of the rich, colorful, lovely sound, perfectly in tune and so clear that Taehyun can’t help himself from tapping the beat and shaking his head with closed eyes. The sound is caressing his ears, inviting him to jump in. The temptation to join the dance of the little girls in front is too hard to resist.
Six minutes of pure, enchanting sound make Taehyun forget how to breathe. Perfectly disarmed by the charms, he feels a craving for something he can’t put a word on. It’s flawless. The way this boy plays, the way he breathes in tune with the sound—and yet Taehyun knows That’s not what makes it different. It’s alive, and the violinist is one of the kind to make it sound like that. The melody dies down with one movement of the bow, and the claps shield him from moving.
He hears the breathy laugh of a velvety voice: "One more?"
He whispers, adding to the loud yes of the little girls with pink cheeks who want nothing but to dance under the sun.
The sound comes back with the gentlest of touches, and they patiently wait for permission to begin. Taehyun recognises the piece with the first notes, but he still doesn’t. It’s different, an arrangement of the way, to make the violin shine on its own, without a piano or orchestra to support him. It’s still the same romantic and playful "Merry Go Round of Life", but now it’s more rich and full of spring. It’s so overwhelmingly beautiful that Taehyun can’t help but wonder if this one musician ever needs someone to accompany him.
The violinist plays with them, teasing just a bit, and then everything comes together—hands to hands, the sun on the skin, a semblance of the light kissing the freckles, braids jumping on the back, and the wind following their waltzing footsteps. The sound is floating, and Taehyun forgets that he’s standing in the middle of the town square on the first day when his summer finally begins.
The tempo slows down just a bit, but the violin is still ringing in his heart, and he waits for it to calm down, for his heart to stop beating, focusing on the last dance of the music, on the wind. Just for a second, he doesn’t want to rush; he lets himself receive the notes, reaching out to his ears to feel the invisible hand searching for his. It is just a moment, but it costs him his sight. One mere second of blinking, and the violinist is nowhere to be found.
Taehyun opens his eyes with the new dedication—he needs to find him. The one he can’t forget.
Taehyun gathers all his courage and walks toward the little girls, who are panting heavily from all the dancing, with determined and fast steps. He is not going to leave this place, even without the smallest hint of where the heck to find this cursed violinist who wrecks his whole life. Again.
After a little series of questions and answers, he has three main facts that he's been hearing at least for half an hour:
- The violinist looks like a prince, that he’s "the prettiest musician that we’ve ever seen."
- The violinist is charming and has "the best smile in the world, such sunshine."
- The violinist was wearing a shirt with the same emblem as his.
For 12-year-old Taehyun, it’s nothing. Who is he supposed to find? The prettiest one? The most smiling one? He sits on the bench next to the fountain and sharply exhales. At some point, it seems like he’s trying to find a ghost, and all of this—the dance, the violin, the experience—is some kind of magical story where he’s bound to break a curse. Until the funny, silly little idea settles down between the running thoughts
If the violinist has the same emblem as his, then he is at the same music camp, so Taehyun is not the one to break the rules, and what if singing up to try to be an accompanist is his lucky chance, what if.
He lets out a hysterical laugh and looks at the watch on his wrist. It’s time to start a waiting game where he has to win.
The chain of thoughts brings him back to the practice room in less than twenty minutes, without anyone noticing that Taehyun has just discovered the treasure or that his heart still stayed frozen at the moment in the town square, beating the same rhythm, when he’s quietly humming the melody, daydreaming, and looking at the sunlight resting on the floor.
There are no signs of the violinist, but Taehyun is too stubborn to give up. This idea of meeting the person who captured his whole attention and plagued the mind with all different images that probably will mean nothing in reality doesn’t give him rest. He’s the first to attend all the lessons in the vain hope of the fateful meeting. The magnetic pull of the string section is tempting, and he needs to survive the wait. Pushing aside the flow of his thoughts into the depths of his mind, he enters the room and stands in the corner, observing. There are a lot of small musicians—pianists, violists, and violinists. He can almost hear his heart picking up pace, and his eyes are trying to find the calendar to check if it’s really the final date for pairing up with someone until the end of the camp. His breath is getting flimsier, and still, he’s willing to try one last time before the odds play against him.
The first violinist, back to his eyes, goes first to play, and he feels both fear and excitement, a mix to set one on fire. And when he turns to Taehyun, with the smile stealing the sunlight from the luminary itself, Taehyun lurches forward, first in the queue. He lets out a breath in awe—one that reaches his violinist and causes a shy half-smile to break into a half-smirk.
The melodic sound of the violin falls blissfully on his ears, like the petals of the flowers covering the empty ground. Taehyun doesn’t stop looking, admiring, and finally drinking in the sight of the musician that was hiding in every corner of his thoughts. Infuriating, really.
What a bold move to play a Bach Andante from Violin Sonata No. 2 in a room full of musicians without any breaks in sounds, sustaining one long line of music with perfectly balanced movements. The violinist is surely flexing with this choice—one of the hardest for those who know that it’s challenging because at the same time, the melody and the accompaniment are combined in one pair of hands instead of two.
Taehyun is almost angry at himself for finding it so beautiful. He almost falls for this exasperation act—to play a piece that’s supposed to sound so casual and easy, almost as if the violinist is playing with everyone, trying to fool every listener. But Taehyun knows better. Apparently, much better than people who leave the queue seemingly unimpressed. If it’s a proclamation of a challenge, as some people look at the musician with the covered mouth and wide-opened eyes, Taehyun is willing to take a risk and put himself through all circles of suffering. All in just to have a chance to share a word.
Slowly, the musician emerges from his element, from the music that takes a claim on him. The boy descends into the light just a bit, a smile rimming his lips, and his eyes meet the warmth of amber ones.
"Thank you for listening," he says and bows respectfully, and the smile still lit up his whole face. His eyes settle down only on one person, addressing his words just to him. "I will be glad to find an accompanist to play with."
Taehyun wastes no time: he is taking a step forward, giving out his hand for the handshake. The violinist is a little taller than him and so impossibly beautiful. Maybe the girls were right in giving him a piece of advice on finding the prettiest one.
They don’t know each other yet, but Taehyun is already calculating the plan and chances of how to become friends. So he flashes a charming smile and rambles,
"Nice to meet you! My name is Kang Taehyun. I’m ready to learn any piece that you want. But, please, not the Bach sonatas? Are you insane or just a prodigy, to be honest? But besides this, I just wanted to say that your playing is so, so, so, so beautiful. I’ve never heard anything like this. So in tune, such perfect intonations—really, I was just starstruck by the way you form the sound. I will be really happy to be friends—I mean, partners—until the end of the summer. If you want it too, maybe you will give me a chance. What do you think? And I’m—"
"The rule breaker."
"What?" Taehyun shuts his mouth, stepping aside. The boy smirks at him knowingly, and he smiles even more devilishly this time, studying wide-open doe eyes for a few seconds before he’s pulling away the still very flustered, adorable pianist.
"I noticed you in town the other day. And I’m Choi Beomgyu, the violinist. We were holding everyone up, so I thought it would be nice to talk properly somewhere else. What do you think, Taehyun-ah?"
Taehyun freezes, blinking, and Beomgyu leans forward, waving a hand in front of his face. Taehyun breaks out of his trance, pausing the race of thoughts with squints and whispers.
"I’m not the only one who’s sneaking outside. And do you have to be this annoying?"
"This is why I think we’re going to be a perfect pair, partner." Beomgyu winks and stretches, almost like a cat. "Besides, I like that you say everything you have on your mind, it’s easier like that. And also, you’re a pretty interesting pianist. I went to see you play. It’s amusing even—how much you hold yourself back."
"Beomgyu-ssi, did no one tell you that if you want to work with someone, you shouldn’t tell them everything on your mind?"
Cue the daring smile and flames in the eyes. "But it’s what makes me interested in you, so why shouldn’t I tell you?"
He straightens up, the sparks stay in the corner of his eyes that are still locked with Taehyun’s amber, and then he starts taking away his violin. Taehyun finds himself watching his every gesture, contemplating if he really just made the biggest mistake of his life or if he just won a lottery, while he still mentally holds on to every word—and he voices out the question,
"Beomgyu-ssi," he says, waiting for the boy to look at him, and then he smiles prettily. "Do you want ice tea? I can share half of my strawberry sandwich."
A second. Two. That breathy chuckle again, and then an encouraging nod Beomgyu puts the case with the violin on his shoulder and offers his hand to Taehyun’s free palm.
"Hyung, partner, or just Beomgyu. I’m not really older than you. Also, yes—let’s share your strawberry sandwich. I’m hungry, and no, I'm not a prodigy. I just really love music. Let’s break more rules, but together this time. I also didn’t mean to offend you with my comment about your play. I just wonder if I can find a piece that will make you stop focusing on the technique and actually learn the language the music speaks. Let’s figure it out this summer. This is way better than just waiting for the rehearsal that gives us nothing."
Taehyun has never grinned from ear to ear more than at this moment. He takes a free palm and asks, "Be honest, do you play scales musically? With no fear of being exposed and everything?"
Beomgyu laughs, throwing his head back a bit. "Do I need to play it for you for special approval?"
"And Bach's Violin Sonata No. 1 too."
"Is it too late to change the partner?" He means it playfully, but Taehyun still punches his shoulder with a free hand.
"You can’t do that."
Beomgyu can’t help his warm laughter, especially with how irritated Taehyun appears by tugging him on the sleeve so as not to attract any more attention. He is still mumbling something, and Beomgyu pauses, gaze hovering over their hands. "So, how was the camp before I showed up and made it significantly better?"
"I was dying from boredom, but at least I wasn't dealing with a slight case of arrogance."
"Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating." Beomgyu answers playfully, and Taehyun arches an eyebrow at him.
"But I would rather have someone who has enough talent to flex about it than to sit and count the days I have left. "
Beomgyu looks at the sun. "I really hoped it would be you, Taehyun-ah. I really did."
Taehyun is looking over his shoulder, but all he can see is a relaxed, nonchalant expression on Beomgyu’s face. Something catches his attention, and he pulls Taehyun forward—to the free benches under the tree—until he takes a seat and asks for the sandwich. Taehyun watches as Beomgyu’s hair flutters in the wind, the shadow and the sunlight draw sharp outlines on his soft face, and he can’t answer to himself if he’s ever met anyone so weirdly fascinating and enthralling as Beomgyu.
Even though Beomgyu, by all means, appeared at first as a flexing, arrogant violinist, that was an understatement of his abilities. Maybe Taehyun would even agree that Beomgyu should stop beating about the bush and actually brag about how brilliant he is. But he soon discovered that it was an issue of humbleness when Beomgyu said that he just loved music. That he is not some kind of prodigy. Because, no fucking way, this brilliant musician is not one. Taehyun still can’t wrap his mind around everything Beomgyu does.
Taehyun knows he is not the best pianist among others in the camp, he hasn’t even decided yet if he wants to be a pro, but Beomgyu Oh, Beomgyu takes the music in his hands and makes it seem to be the easiest element after years of finding it the hardest. Still, for some reason, Taehyun can’t understand what makes this instrument, the violin, so special to Beomgyu that the boy handles it with such great care and plays it with so much love. It happens through the whole summer—Taehyun is getting curious about what Beomgyu thinks, about what he doesn’t say, or why he doesn’t ask some questions that stay on the tip of his tongue.
They spend more than the allotted time bonding together, too. They don’t even notice that it’s not just some extra hours behind schedule; it’s all the time. When the sun is just peeking behind the curtains, they are both up, running to reunite at breakfast after the nightly forceful separation. It happens every day too, but they are still not happy about it or even more irritated about it. And if there was a possibility to prolong the day into the night, they would do it in a heartbeat. They both know the summer is about to end, and they—without any words exchanged—take everything from it, take it in their hands to control, to enjoy, to create another memory.
Some teachers and peers tease them about it, playfully giving out the message that the other is meant to receive, but neither Taehyun nor Beomgyu hold a grudge about it, they simply play along and nod, making sure that the words are passed through. When their schedules clash and they are not seen together, it causes a gasp of surprise. How is it even possible that these two peas in the pod did not attend the rehearsal holding hands or joking around?
Little did they know that every time it happens, a certain pianist is waiting for his violinist outside the building, ready for another adventure they planned beforehand, or the certain violinist is sitting on the stairs, humming the melody, until he hears a joyful Gyu and everything sparkles again.
Beomgyu is still annoying. He still talks in riddles. And Taehyun still can’t help but be endeared.
It’s his, their, summer, after all. He doesn’t want to hold back anymore.
Taehyun stares at the setting sun, watching it cascade its light on the feathery clouds and glaze the rooftop in hues of pastel pinks and oranges. He just looks at it and listens to the steady breath of the boy, laying next to him, playing mindlessly with Taehyun’s fingers. He still hopes this day will never end, even if he knows. Eventually, it will. His eyes linger on the silhouette of the person who holds all the light—the one who showed him colors he’s never been able to see, the one who taught him the language he can speak only with him—and he is letting out a sad puff. The sunset air walks past them, and he’s trying his best to breathe and enjoy the last day of the summer with a light heart, the heavy one can always come after. And as always, the presence of kids running back and forth on the ground beneath them has the opposite effect.
"Why the violin?"
Beomgyu looks to his left, slightly getting up. He lets go of another palm and puts his hands behind his back, hardly supporting himself, until it gets too exhausting. The wind is blowing his bangs into his eyes, but he still catches the halo around Taehyun looking at him.
"It’s everything?"
"In what sense?" Taehyun allows his habit of asking Beomgyu hundreds of questions to unleash its full force. "You could choose any instrument, but you chose the violin, so why?"
Beomgyu stretches his legs and claps palms, closing his eyes for a second as he tries to think about it, scrunching his nose, another habit that Taehyun takes with him as a memory, and he listens to the faded melody of some orchestra pieces in the distance—another variation of the singing voice the music camp has.
"It's a superior instrument, Taehyun-ah, what’s else about it?" Taehyun punches his shoulder. "I’m gonna have bruises from how often you punch me. I’m kidding. It’s just what I’m good at."
"And that’s all?"
"It was never a question to me? I play because there hasn’t been any other option. Since the moment I touched the strings, I’ve loved everything that comes with it, as if it was meant to be this way. It’s been ten years, Taehyunnie. I don’t know how it is not to be a violinist. Sometimes, I think I use music instead of words more often." He chuckles and adds, but not without a smirk. "Or maybe it’s because I have a perfect pitch, and as a violinist, I have a lot of great chances to flex it."
Taehyun laughs, but the shades of bitterness are hiding in between when the memories of his own experiences come like a flood. Beomgyu is leaning back on his forearms again. His eyes are piercing Taehyun’s soul, and none of them are aware that he has this unique ability to see—to take one glance and see him whole. Something that Taehyun got too used to and was not ready to miss.
"You and your perfect pitch."
"You sound like you don’t want to have one."
"I’m already fed up with the constant comments and numbers of the exercises you do whenever I play the random notes on the piano," He rolls his eyes in a playful manner and relives the memory. "Is it B flat, Taehyunnie? Yes, it is B flat, mister perfect pitch! Imagine if I had one, I would be even worse than you."
Beomgyu chuckles, accompanied by the easy smile on Taehyun’s face.
"Why piano, though?"
"Because my mom wanted me to play the instrument," Taehyun shrugs, and Beomgyu tilts his head at him. "I didn’t really choose it for myself. I mean, I’m not sure if it’s my instrument, but I’m sure that the whole world of classical music is too interesting for me to step aside. It fits about right by my standards—funny people, not really that boring as something else, pretty logical. You know, in some sense, it’s perfect. I just prefer observing and listening, thinking how the synergy can be born, rather than having all the attention on me."
Beomgyu hums in acknowledgment, noticing how Taehyun is studying his expression from the corner of his eyes.
"We are not so different then."
"You mean?"
"We both don’t know quite well why we are doing it, but we are still doing it."
Taehyun mirrors Beomgyu’s relaxed position and looks into the sky. "It’s a journey after all. Maybe we are not supposed to know."
Beomgyu nods. There is a pause between them, such a rare but comfortable moment of silence that speaks in many ways better than anything else, but Beomgyu still gives permission for words to slip out. He wants Taehyun to know.
"I will really miss spending my days with you, Taehyunnie."
The smile doesn’t match the sadness in his eyes, but he doesn’t want Beomgyu to see it. Instead, "You have no idea how much I will miss it."
"Promise we will meet again next summer? I don’t think any summer will be the same after spending it with you."
"I promise."
Beomgyu brings Taehyun’s arm to his, linking their pinkies together, sealing a promise with a smile with a note of a matching ache in it as he watches the warm doe-eyes fill with the sparkles in the corner. The summer is ending tomorrow, but now they have something that will stay nonetheless.
Apparently, pinky promise is not enough, because how else can anyone explain Taehyun running to Beomgyu with the flushed pinks, trying not to bump with hundreds of the kids and their parents packing and sitting in the car. When he finally reaches his violinist, Taehyun stops and holds in two, taking a lungful to calm down a beating heart.
Firstly, he bows and quickly introduces himself to Beomgyu’s parents with the most charming smile of his to make them melt at an instant: "Hello! It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’m Kang Taehyun, Beomgyu’s friend."
In the second, he’s giving Beomgyu a sheet of paper with quick handwriting, blabbering and making sure it’s clear what’s written, running out of breath once again, like he was passing the most important knowledge to safe hands.
"This is my phone number, you can text or call me anytime when you have time, even if it’s five minutes between your practices. This is my address with a postcode. Please, please, write me a letter to tell me about your days, or the musical pieces you’re excited to play, or about anything, I would love to know about anything. And this is my email if your letter gets lost, I hope it won’t, but just in case, you can reach me out here too. It’s enough to stay in touch, right? Right?"
Beomgyu reads every letter carefully, and there is a pause that lets Taehyun see how the mask of ease cracks a bit more with every passing second. His eyes are travelling around such a small page, treating it with so much care.
"You’re in Seoul? That’s a whole two hours by train from Daegu."
"But we can still talk. You said you were going to miss our conversations, and I suppose thousands of my questions. Maybe we can even rehearse again, and I will accompany you, or something like this, or watch a movie online. I did it once with my sister. We can do plenty of things, even if we are not in the same place, Gyu."
Beomgyu doesn’t respond, and neither does he deny the offer. He simply tries to process everything. Taehyun tugs at the hem of his shirt, asking for a bit of his attention, standing there awkwardly and hoping that no one, especially Beomgyu’s parents or his parents, whose steps he hears approaching, will think that he’s weird or anything like that.
"You are—" Beomgyu’s voice is shaky, and he still can’t bring himself to look at Taehyun when this person, his new friend, his summer, tries to search for an expression that paints the face. "Thank you."
Taehyun’s eyes are wide from surprise when Beomgyu is suddenly close. He pulls him in for a tight hug—that can’t be even tighter, but they both are clinging onto each other—to last the moment just a bit longer. Beomgyu squeezes his eyes shut, and he clenches his jaw, not letting the drops of tears ruin Taehyun’s new perfectly ironed white shirt. He whispers between them, like a secret they are now so used to sharing.
"I will write to you, and I will call you, and you will get so tired of my messages that you will get annoyed at my presence in your life, but you will still want me to text you and talk about all the small and useless things. This is what you signed yourself up for. Do you even get it?"
Taehyun hugs him even tighter. "Got it, partner. Got it perfectly."
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The autumn comes with the falling leaves, any colors changing into the palette of redness blended with orange haze, wrapping the weather and the wind with it. It arrives at the sound of the bell that signifies the beginning and the end of the classes, at the sound of repeated octaves and scales on the piano until they are perfect. The autumn brings the scolding tone of his mother that tries to get the only single thought in his system—you have to become a prodigy, so repeat until it will be satisfying, perfect, flawless, soulless—and it mixes with the comments of his teacher that keep criticizing him.
The autumn brings the missing, and Taehyun knows that he is more than empty now. He is in need of the person now.
In the evening, when he bargains some free time for his thoughts to be let out and roam around, he tries to remember the sound of the violin. He closes his eyes and hears the distant sound, almost like an illusion, how it’s filling the space. How the melody in the hands of the artists banishes the sadness and worries away. Taehyun daydreams more often now to reminisce and believe that the sound is not something he created, that it is real, and that it is his actual memory. That he was there, and it wasn’t just a dream.
Every morning he waits for the envelope to magically appear in the postbox or to see a new email, but the days pass and messages are still stuck somewhere between Daegu and Seoul, and he’s not sure if he’s waiting or just hoping at this point. Maybe both, maybe none of them.
And while there is barely anything, he hides in the memories, in the daydream of the summer.
His eyes find a way to be captivated by the view of the dusk sky behind the window, as he likes it the most now—bits of sunlight break the cloudy veil to greet him. Right before the sharp voice cuts his space in two and drags him back to the music class,
"Taehyun, do you hear me?"
"Yes, sir."
"What did I just say?"
"I keep repeating the same mistakes as before, and my intention is too bad to even exist. I practiced, sir, but I just can’t grasp this piece."
"I will write down notes again for you. Look at it again after the class. I expect you to do better. You can do much better than now." Taehyun receives a comment with a sigh. "If we don’t have any progress any time soon, I’m afraid I’ll have to call your mother."
Taehyun flicks his gaze to the teacher, smiling warily. Seconds of the fear are fitting past them, and he tries to buy it off with the nod and single understanding; he wants to assure it. There is no need for someone else to know he can’t handle this damn instrument that doesn’t listen to him. When he meets the teacher’s eyes again, there’s something more to that studying gaze, and it makes Taehyun worry just a bit more than often. He tries to read the air and find a clue to decode the phrases that are about to make their presence known, but it’s all in vain because the silence is already breaking.
"You could play even harder pieces during the summer, but you can’t now? What happened to you? If you want to get into any other summer camp, you need to be dedicated. Music is hungry, and you need to be consistent with your improvement. You can’t just play around and expect everything to happen without proper effort. You have to work harder. The bar is higher now, so get yourself together and grasp the piece."
Taehyun ponders, his eyes darting back to the note sheets. "The Children’s Corner" by Debussy. A six-movement suite, considered not to be hard, is just right for his grade, and yet he can’t manage to make it sing. It’s just a sheet of notes, just black and white, not the melody, and he hates how music is dull and stubborn when there is no one to show him how exciting it can be.
But he still nods to the teacher and comes back to his daydream.
He takes one step into the house when his sister jumps in front of him with the envelope in her hands and a mischievous smile. "So, my little brother, is, by any chance, the name of the violinist that you kept talking about, perhaps, Choi Beomgyu?"
One second, two seconds, and Taehyun runs after her, trying to snitch the envelope, and she laughs beautifully, a melody dancing in his ears. "Sakura! It’s mine! Give it to me!"
"Oh, you’re so eager to get this letter." She crosses her hands in front of him, they are four years apart, and four centimeters gives her the privilege to tease, but Taehyun pouts. "I did you a favor, by the way, because the postman said that it was only for you, and if I wasn’t here and didn’t convince him that this letter for you was a question of life and death, you would have to convince mom to get you to the post office, but as always, you’re welcome."
She holds out the letter, ruffles the boy's hair, and smiles when the constellations in his eyes are lit up again. Taehyun is too absorbed in reading the letter to notice how fond and relieved her smile is. He runs to his room and reads the letter again. The smile hurts the cheek, and the dimples are full on display, and he can’t help but have the bubbling joy grow from petals to flowers in every corner of his heart.
"Dear partner," and Taehyun has his summer back.
He finishes the letter. Then read it again. Then finishes it one more time and opens up the laptop to check if there is any email from someone who even stated that he didn’t receive a response and got too upset. Taehyun checks the spam folder and lets out a surprised gasp. It’s almost the third week, and this email is waiting for him.
He makes a mental note to stop moping and just start looking at messages properly.
He rushes to click it open and reads it as carefully as a handwritten letter, carefully resting on his bed.
[from [email protected]: i chose it for you!]
[message: hey, taehyunnie, i was attending some classes and thought that these pieces would suit you. try to play them whenever you have a chance. all of them feel like the music that you could create if you were a composer instead, or maybe not, but they inspired me in some ways. just like you did, btw. I picked carefully :D]
His eyes scan the attachments, and then he notices the wild coincidence. The snow is dancing, present in between some other suits and serenades, including the one that’s been giving him a headache during the practices. He reads the description that Beomgyu provided for every piece and tries to imagine the colors written there, tries to feel the music on his skin, just like one very specific boy taught him.
He listens to the recording that Beomgyu chose and tries to imagine what his violinist placed in his mind with just a few lines—the dance of the snowflakes on the tapestry of the sky, the whirlwind of the snow, the silence of the night, and the secrets whispered by the darkness, while the winter is playing her own game. Taehyun lets the pictures live and invites them to stay, and he doesn’t even notice how naturally his fingers tap on the wooden desk when he absent-mindedly hums it.
The music fades. He opens his eyes, and everything is clear again. It’s the first night he sleeps with a smile on his face.
The next time he plays, the teacher has nothing to add. Taehyun found the music and let it lead.
In a few days, the dimple and little fangs greet Sakura before her brother steps in. She already knows that he’s here in hopes of receiving a portion of kindness and goodwill from his sister, given how secretive he looks. Over their past years of bonding, she knows that her little brother, Kang Taehyun, is actually her best friend and partner in crime. Therefore, the instances of some favors include something that definitely should be hidden from the parents, and especially from the mother. Today’s episode, however, feels a little bit differently, followed by a closed door where the whisper comes first, "Can you help me create a Kakaotalk account?"
She stands up and squints at him. "First, you ask me for more pieces of paper, even though your first letter was already huge, but it was still too short to share everything you wanted to. Then give me the letter every week to send to your best friend that you adore more than anything in this world." The interruptive argument that it’s not true doesn’t stop her from counting what else he did. "Second, you sneak into my room to use my laptop to exchange e-mails for hours because then our dear parents won’t force you to practice as I’m supposed to help you with classes when everyone in this house knows that you’re the genius one. And now you want me to create a kakaotalk account to do what, exactly?"
"I want to video call him. To hear and to see him at the same time, you know?"
Sakura is about to reply, but she gets back to her laptop and types something down. She groans and then asks Taehyun to come closer and shows him the registration page.
"Well, if we get caught, at least we both will be grounded, which makes it funnier, right?"
"When are the parents going to understand that social media and friends can be anywhere and not just in school among the excellent students?"
"No idea, Taehyunnie. But you've got to hurry if you want to talk to your object of adoration." She teases him slightly and helps with everything he asks for, including bypassing the system because technically, he’s not allowed to have the account, but who said that his sister can’t give him another one. "Is he really that cool that all that you talk about is him and his playing?"
Taehyun chuckles and glances over his shoulder: no sign of teasing this time. It’s real curiosity, a real question, and an honest and sincere interest that he can’t deny. He sighs, then stops for a second and gives her his full attention.
"He’s incredible. You just need to hear him play one time to understand what I’m talking about, but it’s not everything. I can’t really explain it, but whenever I talk to Beomgyu hyung, he always finds a way to listen so attentively to every amusing story I have, even if it’s absolute nonsense. We laugh a lot, and we talk a lot. Isn't that what friends usually do? They talk about everything and nothing?"
Sakura shakes her head and beams at her brother. If this is what friendship feels like for him, then it should be this way. She tries not to mix their interpretations and leaves her opinion for herself for now, so she wouldn’t ever be like their parents, who always dictate what the meanings behind things are, what’s allowed, and what's not. She grounds herself with the expression on Taehyun’s face—with the wide smile and dimple that never goes away after Beomgyu started writing to him, with his messy hair after the whole day of running and rushing back home, with his doe eyes full of stars, and his sincere heart, beating and trusting her with everything. This is one of those times when Sakura is glad that she can provide Taehyun with a way to experience everything himself. She’s the only one he can have in his family with enough understanding and patience—the one who can win some freedom for his curiosity to live on.
"I suppose so," She smiles and stretches like a cat after a good nap. "When are you going to call him?"
Taehyun’s smile grows wider more than necessary. Feeling the tricky part hidden in the corner of his mouth, Sakura finally realises what it is all for, and she almost says it louder than they can afford the secrets to be heard. With a huge gasp she finally asks,
"You’re really going to pull me into this too, aren’t you?"
"I can trust only you." Taehyun raises his hands in surrender. "But maybe you can also tell him hi and get to know him? So, like.. Maybe you will understand why I’m always talking about him?"
Sakura laughs easily and falls back on the bed. "Fine. Only if I approve of him, you can call him all the time with my laptop or whatever you two want to do."
"You’re the best sister in the world. You know that, right?" Taehyun jumps on her like a small kitten and snuggles closer, immediately being hugged back. "You’re, like, my biggest partner in crime."
"And that’s the lie, because your partner is in Daegu."
"Sakura."
"Taehyun."
"He’s my friend."
"He’s your special friend."
Taehyun doesn’t argue further. Even when both of them change the topic and talk about her day, friends, classes, and gossiping in the same school, deep down in his throat, almost in his heart, he knows that Sakura is right. His sister is always right.
Beomgyu is not just a friend. He doesn’t feel like one. He’s much more than the word friendship can even offer. He just doesn't know what else it could be.
There is some truth to Sakura’s words: Beomgyu is a very special person if, for him, both of the siblings stand in front of their parents, asking for something once in a blue moon.
Right after the first call, which lasted for three and a half hours, Sakura finally got a chance to meet with this mysterious violinist—they bonded almost immediately, not even five minutes passed, what can be better than teasing a brother with his best friend, but none of the three mentioned it—and Taehyun spent the whole week being a beaming ball of happiness, at least. Beomgyu and Taehyun just couldn’t finish it until Taehyun’s parents came back, and they were forced to call it a day.
Every day they’ve texted, and Taehyun would have hardly found any time or reason to mention why he’s been practising more than ever to apply for another summer program (which is in Japan, but no one should have known) if it wasn’t for the fact he couldn’t go there alone, so he extremely needed his sister’s help. Again.
By the absolute mysterious luck of the draw, Sakura, who’s been studying Japanese, found a language program that would be their ace up their sleeve. It should work. It has to work.
Taehyun almost threw up the day they were planning to have a conversation. He’s looking at the watch,innocently hanging on the wall, and every passing hour makes him want to cry. Sakura is rubbing circles on his back and hugging him from time to time. She is not afraid of being rejected—she knows she won’t be—but she feels dreadful for her brother.
They planned all the details of the conversation with their parents, but, as always, plans changed, and they were confronted.
Taehyun hates how silent he is when it comes to explaining everything—the wish, the presence of the friend, the traveling, and the help of Sakura. The one explanation he has been trying and failing to come up with will be valid for their parents, but it was all in vain. He doesn’t even get the chance to start the detailed explanation.
"No." Strict and firm, his mother continues to unpack the grocery bags.
They look at their father, but he stays silent, hiding his eyes from them.
But Sakura is never considered a rejection or an option for Taehyun—not this time. Her confident and calm voice makes Taehyun stop trembling and look at her, bewildered.
"You always want us to be perfect, and when we actually can take a step closer to it, you want to ruin the progress you demand from us?"
The cold-toned tension of confrontation freezes everything and creeps in as though it were a fall of the knife that’s drawing attention to the situation itself. He registers the change in the scale before he actually hears what Sakura has to say; he sees the doubt in his mother’s face. He almost hears the quiet revision of her rejection before she raises an eyebrow.
"You always want us to show the full potential you see, don’t you?"
Their mother rubs the bridge of her nose tiredly, breaking the stoic expression. Taehyun turns his head to look at Sakura, smiling at him and motioning for him to take a step forward.
"The Young Artist Orchestra program is a unique opportunity. There is nothing like this, and if he’s able to win a place to go there, it will be one of the best experiences of his whole musical life. Isn’t it better than staying here for three months, learning math and other sciences that he’s already mastered?" Sakura crosses her arms over her chest, and Taehyun’s forming words stay on the tip of his mouth with a sudden comment.
"And what is in it for you?"
"This language exchange program will give me a certification that will be more valuable than any exam I can take here. As an addition, I will be able to watch over Taehyun."
Their father takes a step just a bit further to stay next to them. For a handful of seconds, all of them just watched as Mrs. Kang tried to gather her thoughts and decide what to do next. Taehyun, however, decides to risk it all when the image of Beomgyu crosses his mind.
"Mother, please. "
All three pairs of eyes are on him—it’s the first time he’s ever asked her anything. His mother crumbles a bit, just for a second, and sighs heavily.
"I need to think about it and ask your teachers for extra opinions to decide on it." Her shoulders drop. On checking the time, she mumbles that it’s all because of that violinist, and their father is next to her in the second, giving a significant wink to children, and it isn’t long before both of them let out a relieved sigh.
They both go to Sakura’s room and fall on the bed. They definitely won this one, but Taehyun still hesitates to reach for his phone and send the text. Sakura slightly bumps his shoulder in a somewhat encouraging manner and nods. No words were exchanged, but he still gets it—he should share the forming joy with someone who’s been dying to get an answer from him.
One message, and his phone buzzes with no rest, and it makes him giggle immediately. It’s a bazillion text messages. Taehyun taps the KakaTalk notification.
ur mom is scaring even me..
wait
wdym sakura-noona will go with you? i just asked for permission for my parents to fly alone, and they were ok with it, but maybe bc i had to attend a lot of competitions and they can’t skip their work this often
nevermind, i remembered we’re talking about your mom
please, come back as soon as possible
you’ll do something to convince her, right? you’re going, right? like, for real?
where r u to tell me if you are going or not
i think i will lose my hair
i will help you choose pieces to pass the audition im sure you can do it
oh my god it means we will meet
taehyunnie, we will meet!!! there are so many places to see
i mean.. if your mom says yes
taehyun’s mother, please, say yes, please let him spend a summer with me
on another note, is sakura noona going to be with us every time? :<
god, it’s been an hour, WHERE ARE YOU
He flops on Sakura's bed, giving himself some time to recover from the mix of emotions. The speech bubble is still flickering, and Taehyun’s grin is progressively getting wider. He finally texts back:
mother didn’t say a definite yes, but i believe that she will discuss it with dad and will be convinced, dad seems to be on our side. i’m positive that, with how sakura is rolling her eyes at me right now after asking her if she’s going to babysit us, she will be exploring places on her own
He hesitates. One part of him wants to call Beomgyu and hear this excitement laced in his voice, the one that charges people with happiness. Another part of him is too scared that his parents will check on them any minute. But Beomgyu is someone who always needs to see before hearing anything. The video call appears on his screen, and Taehyun doesn’t think twice. He plugs in his earphones, picks up the call, and looks at Sakura, who just nods in understanding.
"I can’t believe we will have six weeks to hang out. Maybe I can even visit you after the program? Listen, I have the whole list of things that we should see, and I also chose a repertoire for you. You can apply for the funding. I checked it out yesterday with my teacher. And there are maybe some coffee shops or bubble tea shops; we need to explore them too. Wait, I think I forgot something—"
"You’re more excited about meeting me than about music."
Beomgyu chuckles, which immediately causes Taehyun to laugh a bit. The boy on the other end of the call shifts around and faces the camera too closely. There is too much contagious cheerfulness in those sparkling brown eyes for Taehyun not to stare at him.
"I haven’t seen my partner in a year, Taehyun-ah. Let me have my moment."
"All moments are yours, hyung." Taehyun is playful, but there is a shine between the lines of his face, and he knows that Beomgyu rejoices at it twice as much as before. "I will add some places to your long list, so it will be even longer. I can’t believe that we will have half of the summer just for us."
Beomgyu was already smiling prettily at him, but after these words, Taehyun thinks the happiness found its owner because no one can wear it on their face as perfectly as that boy with black hair and a grin. They stare at each other through the screen, promising that all the seasons before summer will pass soon, until the laughter resonates in the earphones. Beomgyu, anticipating the meeting, feels his heart picking up a pace. So he does what he knows how to do best—he shares the secret.
"It will be our best summer."
Taehyun flashes Beomgyu a smile that rivals the warmest of the winds and sun before he brings the phone closer and whispers tenderly.
"One of the best among the constellations of all our summers."
Beomgyu nods with a slow smile—it is their language, their secrets, exchanged playfully and seriously. Taehyun’s words bring out a breathy laugh from the violinist, and they continue to talk. Until it’s time to practice.
The second Taehyun is back in his room, and the email with the list of the pieces is already waiting for him.
Play them as if you were playing with me. We will have six weeks of summer. I know it.
And it’s right. Summer will be here soon. Summer, the season they met, is coming. A summer with Beomgyu is coming.