Intermezzo → for colourstacia
Title: Intermezzo
Recipient:colourstacia
Pairing(s): girl!Minseok/Lu Han, side girl!Kyungsoo/Baekhyun, girl!Chanyeol/Kris
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 9,278
Summary: Between impromptu coffee sessions and a world tour, Minseol lets Lu Han conduct her life.
Minseol blinks at the little tube on the table. “Cream,” she states monotonously, after a second of peering at the label.
“For your fingers,” replies Mitao without missing a beat. “You always say younever have the time to properly take care of them, but you should.”
The younger girl has always been concerned about appearances - carefully kohl-lined eyes and painted lips even during sectionals - which isn’t actually a bad thing. But Minseol’s fingertips are meant to be hard and ugly. It’s because of hours of practice everyday, for the last twenty odd years of her life, that her hands will never be as nice as those of people who don’t play string instruments.
Out of the corner of the eye, she glances at Mitao’s oboe fingers and Kyungsook’s clarinet ones and even Baekhyun’s very pretty saxophonist digits, and she sighs. But the kind gesture is nonetheless appreciated - it’s something rather typical of Mitao anyway - so Minseol smiles in thanks and places the cream that she’ll never use into her bag.
“Alright then,” announces Yunho over the murmuring of the orchestra players. Some seats creak as everybody settles down, and Minseol stifles a laugh as the simultaneous noises almost form a diminished chord. “Since we’re ready, let’s begin. First of all, thank you for even showing up.”
“It’s not like we have much of a choice. I mean, we work here,” murmurs Jonghyun from somewhere behind Minseol.
Pointedly ignoring the comment, their resident conductor continues. “We’ll just do a quick run through of this season’s programme, and that’s really about it for today’s general meeting.”
“There are many exciting works lined up, so I reckon you’ll be interested,” adds Boa, the head of everything related to administration, not to mention Yunho’s wife. Half the time Minseol guesses that she’s only sticking around to help instead of giving solo vocal recitals because she’s so in love with said conductor. Everyone in the music circle knowsof what a talented soprano Kwon Boa is, or had been before she decided to go on hiatus.
Sheets of paper are passed around the lecture hall of the Seoul Arts Center, one that’s usually reserved for conservatory students when they participate in mass lessons with their professors. Once Minseol receives her sheet, she scans it for anything unusual. But it’s a normal number of symphonies, chamber works, concertos and so on - in other words, nothing out of the ordinary.
And then Chanyoung gasps. “Oh my god,” she whispers. “World Tour?”
“Ah, yes!” Yunho beams at the mention of ‘World Tour’ and Minseol’s heart skips a beat. She had obviously missed that. “Right. Look towards the bottom of the sheet now, please. Since we’ve had a rather generous amount of funding from the Ministry this year, as well as from our donors, we’ll be playing at a few festivals in the third quarter. Exciting, no?”
“I’ll say what’s exciting,” Lixing wiggles her eyebrows a few seats away. “Lu Han, that’s what.”
Some of Minseol’s female colleagues start to squeal. Nowadays, the mere mention of Lu Han’s name excites most women in touch with Classical music.
Minseol has heard of Lu Han, no doubt. She knows ofof how the Beijing native debuted solo at Carnegie Hall after winning three international piano competitions by his eighteenth birthday. She’s read of his more than successful record deals with Deutsche Grammophon and EMI Classics amongst other labels, and maybe she’s listened once or twice to his playing. She has also visited sites run by obsessive fans about what a wonderful person Lu Han is, not that she cares much for gossip; she came across the fanclubs while looking his accolades up.A total accident, really.
So yes, Lu Han is a big shot. According to the programme, he’s going on said World Tour with them, after making his debut in Seoul.
“And that is an ambitious rundown,” comments Jongdae then, a wolf-whistle escaping his mouth. “Rach 2, Boléro and Rhapsody in Blue in one shot?”
Kyungsook hums in agreement from the side. “At least Baekhyun will definitely be of some use this time.”
Said saxophonist rolls his eyes. “I make this orchestra so much livelier than it normally is.”
Checking her nails, Kyungsook gives a snort. “Yeah, with all your unsophisticated sliding and wailing-”
“Excuse you!”
“Oh, you’re excused-”
“And that’s enough, folks,” says Yunho loudly, the booming of his voice quieting the bickering and murmuring around the room. “Back to what Jongdae said, because our programme this time is indeed more of a challenge, you lot will be getting the scores tomorrow.”
Minseol doesn’t need to have the scores in front of her to know that the pieces for their tourwon’t make up your usual sort of light concert programme. It’s going to be tough, if she recalls the music in her head correctly. Not impossible for her to play well, of course.
“Aren’t you excited, unni?” asks Chanyoung, bouncing a little in her seat. “I can’t believe we’re touring with Lu Han!”
“Minseol doesn’t need to feel excited over him,” smiles Lixing from the side. “Our concertmistress is too good-”
Minseol playfully shushes the Chinese girl with a slightly embarrassed grin. She’s not denying that fact that she’s more than a decent violinist, having played solo with orchestras in San Francisco, London and Seoul herself. It’s just that… “To be honest, I don’t completely understand the commotion over Lu Han.”
“Neither do I,” chimes Jongin from somewhere behind.
“Shut up, you,” Chanyoung tells him, before turning back to Minseol in over-exaggerated surprise. “You must be joking! He is so talented. And good-looking.”
Yunho coughs in an attempt to disperse the awkwardness in the room. “Lu Han is indeed… gifted in numerous ways.” Minseol lets out a good-natured chuckle as the conductor rambles on about the season. From beside her, however, Chanyoung is still murmuring about the wonder Lu Han apparently is.
“He’s so good to his fans too. I mean, he treats the female ones so well. He hasn’t even had a girlfriend since he debuted officially! Always says he’s not interested in relationships whenever he gets interviewed. It’s making him even more appealing. Did I mention he has great hair?”
A polite shake of the head is all Minseol can offer (Chanyoung’s enthusiasm is marginally endearing, so she couldn’t possibly be annoyed by the taller girl). She’d just have to wait and see if this Lu Han was truly as good as he sounded.
Besides, Minseol knows from his music magazine shoots that he does have great hair. And great legs.
-
As much as Minseol enjoys the feeling of togetherness when it comes to playing in the orchestra - never mind the occasionally political moments -she’s always loved playing solo as well. Putting her modesty away every now and then makes her feel oddly liberated.
It’s during mornings like these, when she shows up at the rehearsal hall early to shut herself in a private practice room, that she blasts her Mendelssohn backing track with the confidence of not disturbing anyone’s peace.
Practice is something that Minseol firmly believes in - her fingers speak for this and for themselves, all rough tips and peeling skin. But what they alsotell of is her passion for music. They tell a story of her life and how she’s dedicated it to the art that she loves, the art that she respects for its uncanny ability to express the inexpressible, to free the repressed and suppressed.
The coda of the violin concerto’s first movement is tiring, but it’s fiercely beautiful.Allegro molto appassionata is the composer’s direction: lively; very passionately. Minseol recalls when she played this as a soloist with the Seoul Philharmonic, before she even joined. She had been young and less polished, and her performance reviewers were probably playing nice, but they shared a common view: her emotions werevery clearly present in her playing, much stronger than many other performers of her age.
Minseol hopes that same intensity is something she’ll keep for the rest of the life when she performs. The violin has been her first love (and her only love, minus those silly crushes from school and the conservatory) and she wants to share its music - rather, her music - with others, so that they might see how powerful it can be. After all, music did overcome her family, who had warned her against going down the so-called ‘road less travelled’, trying to push her along the doctor’s path. But she had clung to the wood of her instrument and bow, and has never regretted her choice.
Where people have failed her, music hasn’t, and she loves it even more for that.
As her bow leaves the strings and the orchestra fades into the second movement, Minseol feels the stillness of the air in the room getting to her. It’s a little hot, perhaps because this warm-up is equivalent to her morning exercise.
“Beautiful.”
The word is uttered in a soft but firm manner; it’s something that leaves her feeling slightly unsettled, Minseol notes. No one has interrupted her morning practices before, not to mention the voice doesn’t seem too familiar, and so she quickly turns around.
Now, that face is familiar indeed.
“Mr.- Mr. Lu,” she stammers as the pianist claps for her. He’s smiling. He’s also an hour early. That’s odd for a soloist; weren’t long-time professionals supposed to be fashionably late or something?
“Just thought I’d look around,” Lu Han says casually, his Korean sounding smoother than Minseol had anticipated. She notices how nicely put together he looks in a button-down shirt with rolled up sleeves, paired with dark jeans (there’s a reason Lu Han was nominated for most visually-appealing classical musician last year). This is all very surreal and she realizes she’s in a fairly awkward position with her bow suspended in the air. She drops her hand.
“Welcome,” she says, unable to think of any intelligent-sounding alternatives.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying this,” continues Lu Han in flawless jondaemal, “but I liked your rendition of that movement very much. That violin concerto’s my favorite.”
“Really?” Minseol raises a brow. “I thought you were a Brahms fan. Or I read somewhere that you were, at least.”
Lu Han looks amused. “I’m a fan of Brahms’s piano works, not so much his pieces for other instruments. I like Mendelssohn’s violin concerto the best because it has appealed to my emotions the most, out of all the violin concertos I’ve heard.”
“Then that’s something we have in common.” Fidgeting with the scroll of her instrument now, Minseol can’t help but smile back. “I’m Kim Minseol, by the way.”
“Concertmistress,” finishes the pianist as he shakes her hand firmly, giving her petite one a light squeeze. “How could I not know you?”
This must be a part of his sneaky man-charm, Minseol secretly thinks, blushing uncontrollably. “You know me?”
“I did study for some time in Seoul before I started recording material,” Lu Han shares. “You won the National Youth Violin Competition while I was here. And you so deserved it.”
Minseol laughs in response, unsure of how to cope with what appears to be flattery. “Wow. That was nine years ago.”
“And I remember it. You played Ravel. Tzigane,” says the Chinese man with way too much confidence. “I thought it was an especially daring choice for a competition.”
“Says the pianist who’s famous for planning ‘creative’ programmes,” replies Minseol less formally than she should, but she’s joking. Hopefully he sees that.
Lu Han gives a sheepish shrug, scratching the back of his head. “You’re right. I’ve never been too orthodox with my repertoire.In turn, a fair number of my critics haven’t been too kind about that.” When he raises his eyes, they meet Minseol’s. “But I hope it isn’t inconveniencing you too much. I mean, the orchestra.”
“Of course not,” she copies his shrug. “It’s our job. And it’s music. That fact is enough for me, at least.”
“Then that’s something else we have in common,” replies the pianist, drumming his fingers along the side of his hip with a smile.
-
“He’s looking at you again.”
“Stop that, Chanyoung.”
“I’m just telling the truth,” grins the younger violinist madly as she packs up. Minseol shakes her head with an exasperated laugh. Ever since Lu Han started rehearsing with them, Chanyoung has consistently informed Minseol of whenever said pianist apparently glanced at her.
“He’s probably surveying the room for all the players in general,” reasons Minseol aloud, placing her shoulder rest carefully into her case.
Chanyoung scoffs. “That’s what you say every time. I say he has a crush on you. And you secretly have a crush on him too but you’re in denial.”
“Yah, Park Chanyoung-”
“Bye, unni!” said girl trills annoyingly as she dodges the cleaning cloth Minseol flings towards her. “I have a date with my favorite double bassist!”
Chuckling again, Minseol wishes Chanyoung a good time with Yifan (hopefully he would be able to handle her). As she mentally thanks her violin for a good practice, someone holds her a hanky in front of her face.
Minseol makes a noise of surprise, and it’s followed by someone else’s laugh. “The cloth you threw,” says the voice, and Minseol’s cheeks heat up of their own accord when she deduces who it is.
“Thank you,” she says politely, realizing that most of the other orchestra members have left the room. As the door shuts behind Jongdae and his trumpet, Minseol knows for sure that there’s no one left except Lu Han and herself.
“You played really well today,” Lu Han continues quickly, seemingly sincere. “Especially in the Rachmaninoff.”
“Thank you again,” smiles Minseol. “Our orch does sound pretty nice, if I might say so myself.”
“The orch does sound nice,” Lu Han nods. “But actually, I meant you. I could hear you behind me. You have a pretty distinct sound. To me, at least.”
“Oh. I see.” The butterflies in her stomach are testimony to the fact that Minseol’s never been good with cute guys complimenting her.
The pianist clears his throat, Minseol unconsciously doing the same. He takes one step towards her. “Do have anything on after this?”
“Well,” Minseol carefully phrases her words, “I have a lesson to teach at seven-thirty, but till then I’m free.” She slides the strap of her bag onto her shoulder and takes her case off the table. “Why? Planning on making me join you for tea again?”
Lu Han cocks his head to the side. “I’m impressed by your mind-reading skills.”
“Mr. Lu, you’ve already invited me for coffee twice before,” the violinist says, and Minseol’s surprised at her own flirty streak. She’s never been good with teasing.
“And I’m inviting you again.” He keeps up with her as she walks briskly out of the room. “There’s a new coffee place I’ve been wanting to try.”
“You must enjoy trying coffee places,” Minseol notes.
“Actually, I enjoy the companytoo.”
“Okay.” Minseol doesn’t understand how or why she’s grinning so widely when she feels so conflicted on the inside. She stops along the sidewalk outside of the orchestral building, fully facing Lu Han. There’s a glint in his eyes that she’s not sure how to feel about. “Why do you keep doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“I don’t know. Talking to me.”
“Because I want to,” replies Lu Han simply, as if things are that simple.“I want to know you better.”
Minseol looks up at him and shakes her head like she usually does whenever she doesn’t know how to wholly deal with something. “In that case, I suggest we lower our words.” Lu Han’s eyes widen, and Minseol internally feels impressed with herself for catching him off guard. “You do know banmal, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do,” the Chinese man replies with a hint of an accent that’s slightly cute. Just slightly. “Great. So. Coffee. May I?”
Minseol swings her violin case a little as they continue on their way. “Of course you may.”
-
“Lu Han’s at the door,” says Lixing loudly. Minseol cracks an eye open.
“I’m sleepy,” she yawns from where she’s lying on her comfy mattress, asking her roommate to shoo him.
“It’s not even midnight,” the Chinese girl retorts, “and it’s so obvious that he wants to ask you out. Go, unni, go.”
Despite her skinny frame, Lixing is very strong and she practically hauls Minseol out of bed. While the older girl gets dressed decently enough, she vaguely hears Lixing speaking in Chinese with someone who does sound like Lu Han.So it truly is him. Stretching and dragging her feet towards the door of their hotel room, Minseol ignores the cheeky wink that Lixing sends her.
“Hey,” greets Lu Han once she’s outside.
“Aren’t you tired?” Minseol yawns again. “We just did a whole concert. Concerts tire me out.”
“We’ve just started the tour,” says Lu Han, clearly bemused at Minseol’s stamina, or apparent lack thereof. “Besides, I thought it’d be nice if I could show you around Hong Kong since you’ve never been here before.”
“More coffee places of yours?” Resolved to her fate, Minseol adjusts her cardigan and prepares to go out into the cool night. She won’t need her wallet if he’s treating her again.
“Local food places, more like it. I’ve come here for a couple of trips before. At least I know enough Cantonese to get by.”
A silence eventually settles between them, and Minseol hopes the man thinks it’s as comfortable as she does. It’s odd, how Minseol’s never really felt the necessity of romance in her life, and yet Lu Han’s presence now makes her feel as if she’s needed him for some time.
“Why?” she asks as they walk along some streets in town, later on in the night.
He peers at her out of the corner of his eye. “I told you before, didn’t I? I want to know you better.”
“Then why me?”Out of all the girls you could have wanted to know better,Minseol muses. She’s suddenly reminded of how plain she looks compared to many of her doll-like peers, how normal her reflection appears as it stares back at her every morning in the bathroom mirror. No procedures (and that’s something that she’s proud of) but no makeup either because she could never be bothered with it.
Lu Han shrugs. “I don’t know.” He turns to look down at her with a small smile. “I don’t need to know.”
“You’re okay with not knowing?”
“Don’t sound so surprised, Kim Minseol,” the pianist playfully chides, beckoning her to follow him onto a road of food shops as they maneuver their way through the crowds. It’s a food night market. “Sometimes you need to trust your gut feeling, you know.”
“I find it particularly difficult to trust my gut feeling,” is Minseol’s return. Everything smells so good, even this late into the evening, and Minseol’s stomach makes an embarrassing grumble. She only recently came off her diet; she’s not supposed to let her efforts in losing weight go to waste (or literally, to her waist).
Right then, Lu Han moves behind her to take her by the shoulders. “If you can’t trust your gut feeling, then trust your gut sound,” he teases, steering her around. “Let’s go. I hope you like nutty things.”
Even as the flavored almond cream they get later on warms Minseol up, she notes that Lu Han’s hands on her shoulders had been a lot warmer.
-
Minseol isn’t all that surprised when the door to her practice room opens, revealing none other than their resident guest pianist.
“You again,” she says jokingly.
“Me again.” Lu Han’s grin makes her grin back uncontrollably. “I could hear you. The sound of your practicing is far more appealing than the sound of arguing.”
“Arguing?” asks Minseol, feeling the man gaze at her while she tunes her violin between practicing pieces.
“Yeah. That saxophonist and clarinetist are having an extremely intense disagreement a few doors away. Something about the Boléro parts and solos.Byun Baekhyun and Do Kyungsook, I think?”
Minseol knows better, so she smiles. “Don’t mind them.” Deciding to be a fraction more outgoing than her usual self, she does a little flourish with her bow that makes the pianist laugh.“Anyway, welcome to my humble abode of a practice room. Which is technically not mine since it belongs to the Opera House, but you get the point.”
“It’s my first time playing in Sydney,” Lu Han admits, moving towards the baby grand piano in the vicinity. “I’m impressed that they have so many rooms with pianos backstage.”
“Are you hijacking my practicing session?” asks Minseol.
“No, I’m merely joining you,” he says, cheekily smirking. “So what are you playing next?”
Shifting her stand just enough for him to see the title on her score, Minseol bounces on the balls of her feet. “Your favorite dead man.” Honestly, saying the piece is one of her favorites wouldn’t be a lie either - Minseol has always loved Brahms’s slower compositions.
“I’ve actually played this before,” Lu Han suddenly exclaims, walking closer until he’s right next to Minseol, their shoulders nearly touching. “Can I borrow the accompaniment score?”
“Sure. When did you play this?”
Minseol tries not to look at Lu Han’s denim-clad butt while he bends over to adjust the piano chair before sitting down. Those jeans really look good on him. “Back when I was still in school. I had a violin major for a close friend and he loved this sonata, so I accompanied him during one of his exams. The second movement is really lovely.”
With one breath after they’re both ready, Minseol eases them into the opening phrase and lets the music take over. Having someone play with her live is definitely different from the usual backing tracks she uses in the absence of her personal accompanist. But there’s something about the way Lu Han plays that makes this performance - rehearsal, in truth, but it still feels like a real show - feel starkly different from the other times Minseol has played Brahms.
For one thing, he adapts remarkably well to her rubato, despite it being the first time they’ve played a duet. It’s too coincidental, how their interpretations of the violin and piano parts respectively seem to fit so well. Nearly a perfect match.
As far as Minseol knows, Lu Han hasn’t played this piece in a while, but it feels as if he has practiced it over and over, what with the multiple part voicing and nuances all in place. Spending a moment too long considering her remarkable observations, Minseol makes a tiny slip with her bowing. She can see Lu Han grinning out of the corner of her eye. How embarrassing.
“Whoops,” she mutters after the final cadence.
“Lost your focus for a bit?” asks Lu Han. “That’s not something I’d expect from Kim Minseol.”
“You shouldn’t, I’m not usually like that.” Minseol wonders if she’s being too quick to defend herself. It technically isn’t her fault. Well, it is, but…
“Relax, I’m kidding,” the pianist says, casually flipping through his score on the piano stand. “That was a great duet. Couldn’t help but notice our interpretations were kind of similar, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Minseol feels her own eyes light up. “I thought the same thing. My accompanists always think differently about the middle section, for example. They don’t think there should be much drive there. But I do. And when you played just now…”
“To me, the sense of line in that section is important, so naturally a strong drive should be present. Brahms always uses harmony to strengthen his drive, so if that aspect is brought out, I feel like it makes for a suitable rendition of the piece.”
Chuckling, albeit somewhat shyly, Minseol averts her gaze to the floor. “Exactly.”
“It’s not often that two different instrumentalists have interpretations that gel so well, you know. Even if it’s just for one composition. I never thought this day would come,” Lu Han exclaims melodramatically, Minseol giggling at his exaggerated expression. “People like us should record an album. We’ve got such good musical chemistry. We just need to pick a few songs, hopefully make good work of them, sell it and then get richer.”
“Sounds like a lot of work disguised by simple terms, if you ask me.” Minseol laughs again and wipes imaginary perspiration from her forehead,not without a sigh of relief for good measure. “Lucky you’re not serious.”
Lu Han pauses, turning from where he’s seated to face her. “Who said I’m not?”
It’s Minseol’s turn to pause now, only because she has no idea how to respond. “Come on,” she says after a few beats, “we should prep for the rehearsal later.”
“Okay,” Lu Han agrees while watching the violinist pack up, lowering the piano lid as well. He couldn’t possibly miss her mad blushing. “But I’m not forgetting this discussion.”
“If you say so,” Minseol replies as nonchalantly as she can, making her way out. In complete honesty, however, she hopes Lu Han doesn’t forget, because she definitely won’t.
-
“What’s your favorite part of New York?” asks Minseol, excitedly bouncing on the balls of her feet. It’s been some time since she’s visited the Big Apple for a performance; NYC is their fourth stop in the tour out of six, not including Seoul itself. Halfway across the world and so far away from home, Minseol can’t remember when the last time she felt so exhilarated was.
“The overly-sweet diabetic American cuisine,” Lu Han deadpans, but Minseol has learned that he isn’t the best at telling jokes with a straight face. Seconds later, he grins instead. “I guess I’ve missed Carnegie the most since my last trip here. Great acoustics, nice architecture, all that jazz.” He turns to Minseol as the orchestra members make their way out of the airport. “You?”
“Broadway without a doubt,” she says. “The last time I came here, Chanyoung was with me, and we managed to check out so many musicals. I’m not sure if we’ll have time to catch any this round, though.”
Lu Han shrugs. “Maybe you’ll get lucky. Besides, if you do decide to go for one, invite me.”
“Yes, sir,” salutes Minseol half-mockingly, before glancing at the sight of Lu Han’s little finger at her eye level. “What?”
The man mock-gasps as they slow down, falling behind the others a little. “Don’t tell me you don’t know about pinky promises.”
Rolling her eyes, Minseol wants to laugh at the childishness but she ends up grinning madly too. “Of course I know about pinky promises.”
“Then make one with me. About the Broadway shows.”
Sighing, Minseol raises her own hand and lets their pinkies lock, ignoring the giggles of some of the orchestra girls who have turned back to look at her.
“Done deal,” remarks Lu Han.
She nods. “Done deal.”
-
Jet lag is a pain and Minseol knows it too well. It doesn’t help that she’s the only one in her room since Kyungsook, her roommate for the Rome leg of their tour, is out. She’s alone and nothing can get her to sleep. Not even Wiegenlied.
That’s the only reason she steps out of her room for a moment, not because she’s secretly hoping that a certain guest pianist can’t sleep either.
Indeed, there Lu Han is, sitting in the lobby at five in the morning with his stupid nice t-shirt and stupid nice jeans and stupid nice face. He stands the moment he sees Minseol, and the girl wonders if he might have been anticipating her.
“Can’t sleep?” he quietly asks above the chatter of busy reception staff in the area.
“Yeah. I was never good with changing time zones.”
“Hey,” says Lu Han, leaning down a little, as if he wants to share a secret with her. “Want to go somewhere?”
Minseol blinks. “At this hour? It’s not even bright yet-”
“That’s the point,” grins the man. “Trust me on this. Get your violin and meet me back here. I promise you won’t regret it. And let your roommate know too so she doesn’t worry.”
“Nah, Kyungsook’s been out with Baekhyun the whole night,” Minseol tells him with a casual wave of her hand.
“Excuse me?”
She smiles and shrugs. “They finally got together in New York, like, officially. Resolved their Unresolved Sexual Tension and what not.” And they’re honestly quite cute together, Minseol thinks.
“That’s… romantic,” comments Lu Han. It’s almost as if he has something else to say, but the girl doesn’t question it.
Out of all the people Minseol has met in her existence, she’s only trusted a handful of them enough to call them friends and not mere acquaintances. It’s completely ridiculous how Lu Han suddenly comes along, chats her up and gains her trust just like that. For all Minseol knows he could very well be a closet psycho, but she follows his instructions and trusts him in return.
She trusts him when he beckons her to follow him out of the hotel, trusts him when he takes her hand and leads her somewhere behind the building, trusts him when he tells her they’re nearly at wherever he wants them to go to.
Good thing I’m wearing jeans, Minseol thinks to herself as the morning wind blows in her face. It’s pretty breezy, as they climb up an apparently random hill in Rome, and it sends a good part of her hair flying.
When Lu Han looks at her rather disheveled state, he chuckles. The violinist doesn’t expect it when he uses those slender pianist fingers of his to tuck her stray locks away. “Just a little more climbing,” he promises, letting go of her hand to take her pinky in his. Minseol definitely feels warm all over, and it’s not just because the sun has started to rise in the last few minutes. She thinks she’s probably going delirious.
The truth of the matter is that she’s not, and when Lu Han finally stops and says, “We’re here,” Minseol manages to take a good look around her. She turns around and her eyes widen.
“Beautiful.”
Only now does Minseol realize how high up in the city they are. From this hill, she can see both ancient ruins and modern buildings; she can see where the orchestra is supposed to perform tonight and where they went for dinner yesterday; if she squints hard enough, she can see the outline of the Vatican.
“Yeah,” replies Lu Han. “I discovered it the first time I did a competition here. Stayed in the same place.” He sighs. “It’s the most beautiful at sunrise, I find. I thought you might like it too.”
“It really is beautiful.” There’s just the right amount of light cast on the city below her, and it’s picturesque beyond description.
“Now, your violin,” the man suddenly says.
“My violin?”
“Play it,” smirks Lu Han, and Minseol wonders if there’s some sort of secretly convoluted plan formulating in his mind. “I’m serious, play it now.”
Ignoring Minseol’s protests about how his behind will be wet by the morning dew, Lu Han plops down on the grass anyway and holds Minseol’s case open for her. Choosing this instant to shoot him a questioning glance, Minseol takes her instrument out hesitantly.
“Lu Han, are you sure-”
“Yes, yes,” he insists from where he’s seated. “Trust me again on this. Try it.”
Minseol thinks she must be truly mad to have listened to all of Lu Han’s words this morning, but as the sun takes its place in the sky, she closes her eyes. Her bow meets the violin strings.
Although she doesn’t frequently confess to it, Minseol loves romantic pieces. Not solely those of the Romantic period, but those that stir emotions in you and manage to grip you from start to end.The Swan is one of those pieces, and even though it wasn’t written for the violin in the first place, she loves playing it anyway. She lets herself fall into the sound, into the melody itself, vibratos and portamentos in place for the full works of the composition.
Playing in the open is surely different from playing in a tiny practice room, or even a large hall, and Minseol relishes the feeling of the wind against her skin. There’s a certain amount of awe in her as she plays, surrounded by nature, with the city below bringing her morning greetings. The liberation she can’t help but feel is a change from the freedom she’s encountered before.
And then, she drops her bow. The music halts.
“Don’t move,” Lu Han whispers into her ear. “Let’s stay like this for a while.”
Minseol desperately wants to do something, but she can’t - not with Lu Han’s arms circling her waist from behind, her back pressed flush against his front. The girl can sense her neck warming even more, with Lu Han’s chin settling itself gently onto her shoulder, his nose lightly pressing itself into the side of her hair. She shivers as he inhales, feeling a bit afraid at the implications of his actions.
“Lu Han,” starts Minseol, eyes still fixed on the scene of Rome before her, “I- I need to pick my bow up.”
“I’ll pick it up for you later.” His hold on her gets the slightest bit firmer. “A little while more.”
It occurs to Minseol, out of the blue, that she wouldn’t mind if ‘a little while more’ meant ‘forever’ instead. As she leans back into him, she realizes that that’s a truthfully frightening thought.
-
“Good evening, Mademoiselle,” Lu Han says after their second and last concert in Paris. Just one more place to go after this, and they’d be done.
“Same to you, Monsieur,” replies Minseol with a coy smile. Something about their relationship has changed since the Italian incident; she just isn’t sure if it’s been for the better or for the worse. God bless her if she manages to conclude what exactly she and Lu Han are. Colleagues? Friends? More than that?
“You played wonderfully tonight,” the pianist tells her, and Minseol actually believes him.
“You too, of course.” She wonders if he knows that she really means it too.
“Do you know which part I think was done particularly well tonight?” asks Lu Han all of a sudden. “The Love theme in Rhapsody.”
Minseol blushes even though the statement could be a fairly generic one. “Oh. Yeah, that was good.” They’re supposed to vacate the dressing rooms so that they can call it a night, but Lu Han gets hold of her wrist just before she manages to take her leave.
“After we get back to the hotel, can I get you a drink?” Minseol can tell that he’s looking straight at her, but she won’t look at him, in case she falls too deep in. “I don’t mean coffee, I mean a real drink.”
Falling victim to Lu Han’s persuasion yet again, the violinist finds herself sitting at the bar downstairs of their quarters an hour later. She watches as Lu Han tugs her small hand towards him and starts to play with her fingers, and she would usually stop anyone from doing so. But this is Lu Han.
“Yuck.”
Lu Han makes a curious noise. “What?”
Minseol takes a sip of her wine, the man mirroring her. “I don’t know why you keep doing that. My fingers are so ugly and gross.”
“They’re not,” scoffs Lu Han, settling his glass down. “You have no idea how much I like them.”
“Okay, now you’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m perfectly serious. And perfectly sober too, in case you’re wondering.” He doesn’t stop touching her hand. “Your fingers tell of how much music means to you. They command respect and admiration. And they deserved to be treated with love.”
A sigh leaves Minseol’s mouth. “Well, Mitao did give me some hand cream once-”
Immediately, Minseol’s breath gets caught in her throat. Lu Han’s gaze is too intense, what with how he manages to lock his eyes with hers. He carefully brings each of her individual fingers to his lips, pressing kisses to the tip of each one, and it makes Minseol’s heart feel oddly shaken. It doesn’t help that once he’s done with her left hand, he takes her right hand and does the same to each of her remaining fingers.
Minseol’s eyes water for no reason. “What are you-”
The pianist shushes her tenderly, as if he’s addressing a little child. It’s funny because that’s exactly what Minseol feels like now - small and vulnerable and at a loss of what to do.
“Would you…” begins Lu Han, leaning his forehead against hers, “spend the night with me?”
Minseol leans forward. The way she presses her lips against his is enough of a ‘yes’.
-
“Beautiful.” Lu Han murmurs the word against Minseol’s neck as if it’s a sacred one, something that he’s using to worship her, while she lies bare against the sheets of his hotel room mattress.
“Han, please,” she begs, and she doesn’t even know what she’s begging for, but it seems that the pianist likes it when she addresses him that way. He growls and presses kisses against her jawline, his length also pressing into the side of Minseol’s hip.
“Say that again?” he requests, and Minseol complies, except this time the word comes out as a breathy whine. Lu Han swallows it as he moves to kiss her, sensually licking his way into her mouth; Minseol can’t help but respond with just as much passion.
It’s been a very long time since she’s been this close to anyone, and the bizarre thing is that Lu Han has found his way into her heart so quickly and so surely. Prior to meeting him, Minseol had her fair share of doubts about love and fate, but he’s been revolutionary in terms of changing her mind. It’s no longer just Minseol and music; it’s her and other people, other artistes, Lu Han himself.
“Tell me now if you want to stop,” Lu Han says as he brushes Minseol’s hair out of her eyes, kissing her forehead. “Or I won’t be able to hold back. Couldn’t ever hold myself back from you.”
There’s no way Minseol would want to end this here, not with how much her body wants him, her mind wants him, and - dare she think it - her heart wants him. Minseol wants all of Lu Han and it’s so selfish of her, but being selfish this time feels just as freeing as whenever she takes her ego up to perform onstage.
The same instant that Lu Han kisses her again, he pushes in to the hilt, both of their breaths hitching when his hips meet the back of Minseol’s thighs. “Fuck,” the pianist curses, harsh words a contrast to his finger’s gentle strokes against Minseol’s face. “Fuck, Minseol.”
On any other day, Minseol would chide him for his potty mouth, but now isn’t the time for that. As they build a steady rhythm together, Minseol anticipating the bruises she’ll most likely have in the days to come, she can’t help wanting to memorize this moment - the measures of Lu Han’s breaths, the slide of his skin against hers with their clothes forgotten on the floor, the way it feels like he truly is in love with her.
It genuinely feels like he cares for her and wants her to remember this night for good. He makes sure that she comes with him, thumb circling her clit as she bites back a loud moan of his name.
“No,” Lu Han tells her. He can tell she isn’t letting go. “I want to hear you.”
The sound of Lu Han’s voice is what pushes Minseol into sensory overload, her body tensing as the hips of the gorgeous man above her keep meeting hers, in time and relentlessly so. She’s not sure if the walls of the room are thick enough to block out her cries, but she doesn’t quite care either, at least not while she comes down from her high.
Trembling a little, Minseol struggles to take deep breaths in order to calm herself down. The way Lu Han peppers kisses along her neck, even after he settles beside her on his bed, adds to how surreal everything is. This better not be a dream, Minseol thinks seriously, because if it is she doesn’t know what she’ll do.
But everything, in all honesty, is only temporary. The way Lu Han holds her close, spooning her from behind and whispering to her as if he’s her lover - all of it won’t last. It’s a load of fleeting illusions. He’s just a guest, a temporary break from the norm, and he couldn’t possibly stay.
She pauses, and swallows.
At that very moment,Minseol starts to cry.
“Oh my god.” The weight of Lu Han’s arm slips from her body as she sits up, sheets clutched against her chest. Turning away just enough to notice it’s nearly two in the morning, Minseol can only curl into herself, tucking her legs against her chest. “Oh my god,” she repeats, hands moving to cover her face. Her cheeks aretotally wet.
She feels a warm hand on her shoulder, but she needs to shrug it off. It feels too warm. “Minseol-”
“I feel so stupid,” she sobs, barely coherent but she knows Lu Han can still make her words out. “So, so stupid.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Minseol turns back towards the man, still gripping the sheets tightly. The evident mix of confusion and hurt on his face almost makes her hold back as he sits up, but only almost. “You’re leaving! I just slept with you and you’re leaving in two days! You’ll be flying off to record whatever album you have to record that’s on your schedule, and I’ll be back in Seoul playing with the orchestra and teaching, and doing things you won’t be doing anytime soon.”
A pause. Lu Han looks her dead in the eye. “I want to make this work out.”
That’s ambitious,sneers Minseol mentally. “This isn’t a fairytale,” she says without having her voice crack.
“But,” Lu Han begins his protest loudly, only to lower his voice. “I really like you.”
A part of Minseol wants to scream in joy and suppress her rationality so that she can throw her arms around him and say yes I really like you too, but she won’t let that part overwhelm her. She glances at him, noticing how his eyes are fixed on her hands as he plays with her fingers. “You’ve known me, and I mean trulyknown me, for less than two months.”
“I don’t care.”
“I care,” she hisses, pulling her hands away and trying desperately not to look straight at the pianist who keeps stealing pieces of her heart, with his hands and eyes and all of him. “You can’t just go around and tell people you have feelings for them and rush into everything headfirst and-”
“Yes, I can,” Lu Han insists, scooting even closer so Minseol can practically feel the heat emanating from his bare torso. “This isn’t a fairytale, you’re right. But it’s not a fantasy either. You’re here; I’m here. I’ve never grown so close to someone so fast before, but this is real and you know it. If we just tried-”
“I can’t,” Minseol nearly shouts, half-attempting to block out Lu Han’s words altogether. If she listens any longer, she’s scared she’ll cave. “I can’t try.” It’s a little embarrassing, how she can feel the man’s gaze on her as she frantically locates her discarded clothes and re-dresses herself. The wetness of her panties is an uncomfortable reminder of her feelings gone out of control.
“Wait, Minseol, please-”
“We shouldn’t spend too much time together anymore,” she announces too loudly into the room, making sure Lu Han can hear her even with her back turned. “Don’t look for me. Please.”
The second Minseol takes hold of her purse, she dashes out of the room and straight back to her own room in the hotel. It’s probably a good thing that Lu Han doesn’t know where she’s staying (she hopes none of the orchestra members give it away either) because she can’t deal with him for now. She’s not sure how she’ll ever deal with him anytime soon.
“Unni, is that you?” asks Mitao from where she is in their shared quarters, on her bed with a facemask on.
Minseol replies with a quick yes and grabs a change of clothes from her luggage before locking herself in that bathroom, extremely grateful that Mitao hadn’t seen her tear-stained face. It’s so humiliatingly foolish, how the once levelheaded concertmistress had lost herself that easily to a foreign artist too charismatic for his own good.
Rushing into the shower cubicle, Minseol prays that the hot water washes her memories of Lu Han away. His smile, his laugh, his touch - they all have to go.
(But none of them do.)
-
The BBC Proms performance is supposed to be the highlight of the Seoul Philharmonic’s World Tour, and Minseol doesn’t want to disappoint any critics or patrons of the arts here in a foreign land. It is her duty to her music and herself to give the best performance she can, and to lead the orchestra in doing themselves proud.
When the audience gives them a standing ovation after Rhapsody In Blue, a familiar sense of satisfaction and accomplishment finds its way into Minseol’s head. Job well done, she praises herself and her colleagues for a night of beautifully played music.
But she can’t ignore how Lu Han gives Yunho a hug at the middle of the stage, especially when the crowd claps even more enthusiastically for the pianist. It’s perfectly logical. Minseol looks as normal as she can when Lu Han moves to shake her hand customarily. She pretends to be very interested in his bowtie instead of his face, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Like all other eager audiences, this one calls for an encore, and Lu Han graciously agrees to perform one. He says something in English to the people and they applaud immediately, but Minseol has never been too good with that particular language. She doesn’t get to catch the name of the piece, so she simply waits for Lu Han to fulfill his soloist’s encore obligation.
The second his fingers touch the keys, Minseol’s heart starts to ache. She wants to think that she’s being too dramatic, too emotional, but she’s knows she’s not because she is perfectly aware of what this piece is. As much as Minseol wants to deny it, she knows what Lu Han is trying to tell her by purposely performing this.
It’s Brahms again, but not just any Brahms. This is taken from a set of piano pieces dedicated to the woman rumored to be the love of said composer’s life, even though she already had a family of her own when they met. Yet even after her husband died, Brahms never touched her; he merely cared for her from a distance, watching over her and her familytill her death.
This particular piece is more than a simple cheesy, romantic, passionate one. In truth, it speaks of timelessness, patience and respect when it comes to loving another. It’s about waiting, regardless of how time passes and what happens in time. That notion in itself is enough to have Minseol staring down into her lap, hoping that no one sees her tears while Lu Han milks the intermezzo’s lyrical melodies for everything they can be.
That encore piece is the reason Minseol silently leaves the stage as fast as she can when the lights go up, wanting nothing more than to curl up in her bed on this last night of touring. She’ll just tell someone that’s she’s not feeling well and that she’s skipping the post-Proms celebrations. There’s no way that she’ll be able to stay appropriately composed, even if she stays for the remaining performances of the night.
So Minseol does just that; she tells Lixing she’s leaving, the younger girl nodding but giving her aninquiring glance anyway. The concertmistress packs her things and gulps some water down and plans to hail a cab once she’s outside.
She turns around with her belongings ready. Right at the doorway of her dressing room, Lu Han stands.
“I,” says Minseol, gulping audibly. “I’m going.”
“I know.” Lu Han walks up to her and before she can react in time, he talks her free hand in his. “I know.”
Minseol’s conscience is screaming inside of her head to stop him, to pull away, but Lu Han is far too quick for her to physically react.
The soft press of his lips against the back of her hand makes her vision blur. But what he says next is what breaks her.
“Goodbye.”
Lu Han turns, and he leaves.
In some of her life’s most trying times, Minseol has always had music anchor her. She closes her eyes and tries to listen for something, anything she can hold onto, but there’s only silence. This time, she doesn’t have any music.
Neither does she have her heart.
-
The weather in Germany is wonderful at this time of the year, perfect for taking a walk outside and enjoying the sights and sounds of the city.
As she walks past theGewandhaus, Minseol breaks into a smile. She played Mendelssohn there yesterday and she’ll do the same tonight, with none other than the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra. Thank goodness her German is at a conversational level; nothing could have better prepared her for the leave she took from Seoul in order to tour around Europe for a few months.
Perhaps she’ll try something new this afternoon. Minseol has seen her fair share of impromptu performance videos on in Internet, and to be honest she’s wanted to give those a go for a long time. Maybe she’ll find herself a nice spot in the area to settle her case down and play a few tunes.
Peering out into the open park nearby, Minseol grins at the sight of a few kids playing, and a few other locals merely enjoying the afternoon as they sit on the lawn. It’s also because of this that she doesn’t quite watch where she’s going.
“I’m so sorry,” she exclaims in accented German, trying to pull herself away from the poor person she had crashed into.
“It’s okay.” Minseol freezes. That’s not a German response. It’s a Korean one, but one that isn’t with your typical Korean accent.
For a moment, she looks at the man opposite her and her jaw drops. She can’t mistake that face for anyone else’s. His dark hair, his smile, the way he’s gently holding her arms to steady her - it’s all the same.
Lu Han blinks. “Hey.”
Minseol takes a few staggering steps back. “What are you doing here?” The question comes out fiercer than she intended and she mentally winces. Her intention had been to genuinely ask, not to scare.
But the pianist seems to take it in his stride. “I came to watch you perform. Just wrapped up some work in Berlin so I thought I would drop by. You played beautifully yesterday night.”
Looking at him carefully, Minseol bites her lower lip, swinging her violin case very slightly.
“What are you really doing here?”
Immediately, the Lu Han’s face changes. Seeing the vacant expression he returns her, Minseol wonders if he’s suddenly zoned out. But then he takes a deep breath, as if whatever he’s about to say next will take a Herculean effort.
“I don’t know if you’ve been counting, but it’s been sixth months since we played together.” Of course Minseol knows; how could she not have counted? “Six months of not knowing what to do.Wondering if I should find a way to call you, look for you.”
You were supposed to move on, you idiot. Minseol can’t say it aloud.
A cough leaves Lu Han’s mouth again as he gives the trees around them a once over. “When I heard you’d be performing here, I knew I couldn’t - or I shouldn’t - keep myself away any longer.” The moment he finally looks at her again, it’s with those hooded eyes and with that soft gaze of affection that Minseol has tried so hard to forget.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she whispers, eyeing the ground. She holds back a gasp when his shoes come into her line of sight.
“I missed you,” he says softly, loud enough for only her to hear, with all the children playing in a neighboring field.“I missed you very much. But it’s all up to you. Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t miss me, and I’ll go away.”
Something in the Lu Han’s voice tells Minseol that he’s serious. She’s also serious; seriously torn between choosing what she thinks she should want, and what she really wants. The violin case in her hand shakes as she trembles herself.
“Please,” Lu Han begs, voice almost reduced to a murmur, a hand carefully resting on her shoulder, “give us a chance.”
Minseol is no stranger to the notion of taking chances. She has taken chances with going against her family’s wishes, with putting herself on airplanes to compete all over the globe, with accepting the position of concertmistress despite the more senior players scrutinizing her. But that doesn’t make taking all chances given to her an easy task.
“I don’t know if I can,” Minseol says truthfully, heart aching. Resignation seeps onto Lu Han’s handsome face and he retracts his hand.
“But,” she quickly adds,“I could try to give the music a chance. Our music, that is.”
The Chinese man blinks and lifts a curious brow. “Our music?” he questions slowly, carefully.
The petite violinistshifts her gaze to the clear sky above and sighs, a hint of cheekiness surfacing. “Last time. You said you wanted to record an album together. Or was that a load of sweet talk?”
Lowering her head, she’s met with the sight of a beaming Lu Han, even though he’s not grinning widely at all. He only bears his usual smile, but the brightness in his eyes says enough.
“No, not at all. I mean, yes, I want to record with you. Absolutely.” The fact that the charming man in front of her can’t quite contain his excitement makes Minseol giggle.“We should talk. Over a drink, maybe?”
She nods. “Coffee. Decaf.” Lu Han gives a small chuckle, and casts Minseol a look she knows is of fondness.
“May I?” Hetakes another step towards her, carefully taking hold ofher violin case. Their fingers brush, but neither of them reacts too much to it.
Minseol smiles. She knows of a good café around the corner. “Of course you may.”
--------
Author’s note: dear colourstacia, i hope i didn’t butcher your lovely prompt! also many thanks to the mod for her support and help <3
Recipient:colourstacia
Pairing(s): girl!Minseok/Lu Han, side girl!Kyungsoo/Baekhyun, girl!Chanyeol/Kris
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 9,278
Summary: Between impromptu coffee sessions and a world tour, Minseol lets Lu Han conduct her life.
Minseol blinks at the little tube on the table. “Cream,” she states monotonously, after a second of peering at the label.
“For your fingers,” replies Mitao without missing a beat. “You always say younever have the time to properly take care of them, but you should.”
The younger girl has always been concerned about appearances - carefully kohl-lined eyes and painted lips even during sectionals - which isn’t actually a bad thing. But Minseol’s fingertips are meant to be hard and ugly. It’s because of hours of practice everyday, for the last twenty odd years of her life, that her hands will never be as nice as those of people who don’t play string instruments.
Out of the corner of the eye, she glances at Mitao’s oboe fingers and Kyungsook’s clarinet ones and even Baekhyun’s very pretty saxophonist digits, and she sighs. But the kind gesture is nonetheless appreciated - it’s something rather typical of Mitao anyway - so Minseol smiles in thanks and places the cream that she’ll never use into her bag.
“Alright then,” announces Yunho over the murmuring of the orchestra players. Some seats creak as everybody settles down, and Minseol stifles a laugh as the simultaneous noises almost form a diminished chord. “Since we’re ready, let’s begin. First of all, thank you for even showing up.”
“It’s not like we have much of a choice. I mean, we work here,” murmurs Jonghyun from somewhere behind Minseol.
Pointedly ignoring the comment, their resident conductor continues. “We’ll just do a quick run through of this season’s programme, and that’s really about it for today’s general meeting.”
“There are many exciting works lined up, so I reckon you’ll be interested,” adds Boa, the head of everything related to administration, not to mention Yunho’s wife. Half the time Minseol guesses that she’s only sticking around to help instead of giving solo vocal recitals because she’s so in love with said conductor. Everyone in the music circle knowsof what a talented soprano Kwon Boa is, or had been before she decided to go on hiatus.
Sheets of paper are passed around the lecture hall of the Seoul Arts Center, one that’s usually reserved for conservatory students when they participate in mass lessons with their professors. Once Minseol receives her sheet, she scans it for anything unusual. But it’s a normal number of symphonies, chamber works, concertos and so on - in other words, nothing out of the ordinary.
And then Chanyoung gasps. “Oh my god,” she whispers. “World Tour?”
“Ah, yes!” Yunho beams at the mention of ‘World Tour’ and Minseol’s heart skips a beat. She had obviously missed that. “Right. Look towards the bottom of the sheet now, please. Since we’ve had a rather generous amount of funding from the Ministry this year, as well as from our donors, we’ll be playing at a few festivals in the third quarter. Exciting, no?”
“I’ll say what’s exciting,” Lixing wiggles her eyebrows a few seats away. “Lu Han, that’s what.”
Some of Minseol’s female colleagues start to squeal. Nowadays, the mere mention of Lu Han’s name excites most women in touch with Classical music.
Minseol has heard of Lu Han, no doubt. She knows ofof how the Beijing native debuted solo at Carnegie Hall after winning three international piano competitions by his eighteenth birthday. She’s read of his more than successful record deals with Deutsche Grammophon and EMI Classics amongst other labels, and maybe she’s listened once or twice to his playing. She has also visited sites run by obsessive fans about what a wonderful person Lu Han is, not that she cares much for gossip; she came across the fanclubs while looking his accolades up.A total accident, really.
So yes, Lu Han is a big shot. According to the programme, he’s going on said World Tour with them, after making his debut in Seoul.
“And that is an ambitious rundown,” comments Jongdae then, a wolf-whistle escaping his mouth. “Rach 2, Boléro and Rhapsody in Blue in one shot?”
Kyungsook hums in agreement from the side. “At least Baekhyun will definitely be of some use this time.”
Said saxophonist rolls his eyes. “I make this orchestra so much livelier than it normally is.”
Checking her nails, Kyungsook gives a snort. “Yeah, with all your unsophisticated sliding and wailing-”
“Excuse you!”
“Oh, you’re excused-”
“And that’s enough, folks,” says Yunho loudly, the booming of his voice quieting the bickering and murmuring around the room. “Back to what Jongdae said, because our programme this time is indeed more of a challenge, you lot will be getting the scores tomorrow.”
Minseol doesn’t need to have the scores in front of her to know that the pieces for their tourwon’t make up your usual sort of light concert programme. It’s going to be tough, if she recalls the music in her head correctly. Not impossible for her to play well, of course.
“Aren’t you excited, unni?” asks Chanyoung, bouncing a little in her seat. “I can’t believe we’re touring with Lu Han!”
“Minseol doesn’t need to feel excited over him,” smiles Lixing from the side. “Our concertmistress is too good-”
Minseol playfully shushes the Chinese girl with a slightly embarrassed grin. She’s not denying that fact that she’s more than a decent violinist, having played solo with orchestras in San Francisco, London and Seoul herself. It’s just that… “To be honest, I don’t completely understand the commotion over Lu Han.”
“Neither do I,” chimes Jongin from somewhere behind.
“Shut up, you,” Chanyoung tells him, before turning back to Minseol in over-exaggerated surprise. “You must be joking! He is so talented. And good-looking.”
Yunho coughs in an attempt to disperse the awkwardness in the room. “Lu Han is indeed… gifted in numerous ways.” Minseol lets out a good-natured chuckle as the conductor rambles on about the season. From beside her, however, Chanyoung is still murmuring about the wonder Lu Han apparently is.
“He’s so good to his fans too. I mean, he treats the female ones so well. He hasn’t even had a girlfriend since he debuted officially! Always says he’s not interested in relationships whenever he gets interviewed. It’s making him even more appealing. Did I mention he has great hair?”
A polite shake of the head is all Minseol can offer (Chanyoung’s enthusiasm is marginally endearing, so she couldn’t possibly be annoyed by the taller girl). She’d just have to wait and see if this Lu Han was truly as good as he sounded.
Besides, Minseol knows from his music magazine shoots that he does have great hair. And great legs.
-
As much as Minseol enjoys the feeling of togetherness when it comes to playing in the orchestra - never mind the occasionally political moments -she’s always loved playing solo as well. Putting her modesty away every now and then makes her feel oddly liberated.
It’s during mornings like these, when she shows up at the rehearsal hall early to shut herself in a private practice room, that she blasts her Mendelssohn backing track with the confidence of not disturbing anyone’s peace.
Practice is something that Minseol firmly believes in - her fingers speak for this and for themselves, all rough tips and peeling skin. But what they alsotell of is her passion for music. They tell a story of her life and how she’s dedicated it to the art that she loves, the art that she respects for its uncanny ability to express the inexpressible, to free the repressed and suppressed.
The coda of the violin concerto’s first movement is tiring, but it’s fiercely beautiful.Allegro molto appassionata is the composer’s direction: lively; very passionately. Minseol recalls when she played this as a soloist with the Seoul Philharmonic, before she even joined. She had been young and less polished, and her performance reviewers were probably playing nice, but they shared a common view: her emotions werevery clearly present in her playing, much stronger than many other performers of her age.
Minseol hopes that same intensity is something she’ll keep for the rest of the life when she performs. The violin has been her first love (and her only love, minus those silly crushes from school and the conservatory) and she wants to share its music - rather, her music - with others, so that they might see how powerful it can be. After all, music did overcome her family, who had warned her against going down the so-called ‘road less travelled’, trying to push her along the doctor’s path. But she had clung to the wood of her instrument and bow, and has never regretted her choice.
Where people have failed her, music hasn’t, and she loves it even more for that.
As her bow leaves the strings and the orchestra fades into the second movement, Minseol feels the stillness of the air in the room getting to her. It’s a little hot, perhaps because this warm-up is equivalent to her morning exercise.
“Beautiful.”
The word is uttered in a soft but firm manner; it’s something that leaves her feeling slightly unsettled, Minseol notes. No one has interrupted her morning practices before, not to mention the voice doesn’t seem too familiar, and so she quickly turns around.
Now, that face is familiar indeed.
“Mr.- Mr. Lu,” she stammers as the pianist claps for her. He’s smiling. He’s also an hour early. That’s odd for a soloist; weren’t long-time professionals supposed to be fashionably late or something?
“Just thought I’d look around,” Lu Han says casually, his Korean sounding smoother than Minseol had anticipated. She notices how nicely put together he looks in a button-down shirt with rolled up sleeves, paired with dark jeans (there’s a reason Lu Han was nominated for most visually-appealing classical musician last year). This is all very surreal and she realizes she’s in a fairly awkward position with her bow suspended in the air. She drops her hand.
“Welcome,” she says, unable to think of any intelligent-sounding alternatives.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying this,” continues Lu Han in flawless jondaemal, “but I liked your rendition of that movement very much. That violin concerto’s my favorite.”
“Really?” Minseol raises a brow. “I thought you were a Brahms fan. Or I read somewhere that you were, at least.”
Lu Han looks amused. “I’m a fan of Brahms’s piano works, not so much his pieces for other instruments. I like Mendelssohn’s violin concerto the best because it has appealed to my emotions the most, out of all the violin concertos I’ve heard.”
“Then that’s something we have in common.” Fidgeting with the scroll of her instrument now, Minseol can’t help but smile back. “I’m Kim Minseol, by the way.”
“Concertmistress,” finishes the pianist as he shakes her hand firmly, giving her petite one a light squeeze. “How could I not know you?”
This must be a part of his sneaky man-charm, Minseol secretly thinks, blushing uncontrollably. “You know me?”
“I did study for some time in Seoul before I started recording material,” Lu Han shares. “You won the National Youth Violin Competition while I was here. And you so deserved it.”
Minseol laughs in response, unsure of how to cope with what appears to be flattery. “Wow. That was nine years ago.”
“And I remember it. You played Ravel. Tzigane,” says the Chinese man with way too much confidence. “I thought it was an especially daring choice for a competition.”
“Says the pianist who’s famous for planning ‘creative’ programmes,” replies Minseol less formally than she should, but she’s joking. Hopefully he sees that.
Lu Han gives a sheepish shrug, scratching the back of his head. “You’re right. I’ve never been too orthodox with my repertoire.In turn, a fair number of my critics haven’t been too kind about that.” When he raises his eyes, they meet Minseol’s. “But I hope it isn’t inconveniencing you too much. I mean, the orchestra.”
“Of course not,” she copies his shrug. “It’s our job. And it’s music. That fact is enough for me, at least.”
“Then that’s something else we have in common,” replies the pianist, drumming his fingers along the side of his hip with a smile.
-
“He’s looking at you again.”
“Stop that, Chanyoung.”
“I’m just telling the truth,” grins the younger violinist madly as she packs up. Minseol shakes her head with an exasperated laugh. Ever since Lu Han started rehearsing with them, Chanyoung has consistently informed Minseol of whenever said pianist apparently glanced at her.
“He’s probably surveying the room for all the players in general,” reasons Minseol aloud, placing her shoulder rest carefully into her case.
Chanyoung scoffs. “That’s what you say every time. I say he has a crush on you. And you secretly have a crush on him too but you’re in denial.”
“Yah, Park Chanyoung-”
“Bye, unni!” said girl trills annoyingly as she dodges the cleaning cloth Minseol flings towards her. “I have a date with my favorite double bassist!”
Chuckling again, Minseol wishes Chanyoung a good time with Yifan (hopefully he would be able to handle her). As she mentally thanks her violin for a good practice, someone holds her a hanky in front of her face.
Minseol makes a noise of surprise, and it’s followed by someone else’s laugh. “The cloth you threw,” says the voice, and Minseol’s cheeks heat up of their own accord when she deduces who it is.
“Thank you,” she says politely, realizing that most of the other orchestra members have left the room. As the door shuts behind Jongdae and his trumpet, Minseol knows for sure that there’s no one left except Lu Han and herself.
“You played really well today,” Lu Han continues quickly, seemingly sincere. “Especially in the Rachmaninoff.”
“Thank you again,” smiles Minseol. “Our orch does sound pretty nice, if I might say so myself.”
“The orch does sound nice,” Lu Han nods. “But actually, I meant you. I could hear you behind me. You have a pretty distinct sound. To me, at least.”
“Oh. I see.” The butterflies in her stomach are testimony to the fact that Minseol’s never been good with cute guys complimenting her.
The pianist clears his throat, Minseol unconsciously doing the same. He takes one step towards her. “Do have anything on after this?”
“Well,” Minseol carefully phrases her words, “I have a lesson to teach at seven-thirty, but till then I’m free.” She slides the strap of her bag onto her shoulder and takes her case off the table. “Why? Planning on making me join you for tea again?”
Lu Han cocks his head to the side. “I’m impressed by your mind-reading skills.”
“Mr. Lu, you’ve already invited me for coffee twice before,” the violinist says, and Minseol’s surprised at her own flirty streak. She’s never been good with teasing.
“And I’m inviting you again.” He keeps up with her as she walks briskly out of the room. “There’s a new coffee place I’ve been wanting to try.”
“You must enjoy trying coffee places,” Minseol notes.
“Actually, I enjoy the companytoo.”
“Okay.” Minseol doesn’t understand how or why she’s grinning so widely when she feels so conflicted on the inside. She stops along the sidewalk outside of the orchestral building, fully facing Lu Han. There’s a glint in his eyes that she’s not sure how to feel about. “Why do you keep doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“I don’t know. Talking to me.”
“Because I want to,” replies Lu Han simply, as if things are that simple.“I want to know you better.”
Minseol looks up at him and shakes her head like she usually does whenever she doesn’t know how to wholly deal with something. “In that case, I suggest we lower our words.” Lu Han’s eyes widen, and Minseol internally feels impressed with herself for catching him off guard. “You do know banmal, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do,” the Chinese man replies with a hint of an accent that’s slightly cute. Just slightly. “Great. So. Coffee. May I?”
Minseol swings her violin case a little as they continue on their way. “Of course you may.”
-
“Lu Han’s at the door,” says Lixing loudly. Minseol cracks an eye open.
“I’m sleepy,” she yawns from where she’s lying on her comfy mattress, asking her roommate to shoo him.
“It’s not even midnight,” the Chinese girl retorts, “and it’s so obvious that he wants to ask you out. Go, unni, go.”
Despite her skinny frame, Lixing is very strong and she practically hauls Minseol out of bed. While the older girl gets dressed decently enough, she vaguely hears Lixing speaking in Chinese with someone who does sound like Lu Han.So it truly is him. Stretching and dragging her feet towards the door of their hotel room, Minseol ignores the cheeky wink that Lixing sends her.
“Hey,” greets Lu Han once she’s outside.
“Aren’t you tired?” Minseol yawns again. “We just did a whole concert. Concerts tire me out.”
“We’ve just started the tour,” says Lu Han, clearly bemused at Minseol’s stamina, or apparent lack thereof. “Besides, I thought it’d be nice if I could show you around Hong Kong since you’ve never been here before.”
“More coffee places of yours?” Resolved to her fate, Minseol adjusts her cardigan and prepares to go out into the cool night. She won’t need her wallet if he’s treating her again.
“Local food places, more like it. I’ve come here for a couple of trips before. At least I know enough Cantonese to get by.”
A silence eventually settles between them, and Minseol hopes the man thinks it’s as comfortable as she does. It’s odd, how Minseol’s never really felt the necessity of romance in her life, and yet Lu Han’s presence now makes her feel as if she’s needed him for some time.
“Why?” she asks as they walk along some streets in town, later on in the night.
He peers at her out of the corner of his eye. “I told you before, didn’t I? I want to know you better.”
“Then why me?”Out of all the girls you could have wanted to know better,Minseol muses. She’s suddenly reminded of how plain she looks compared to many of her doll-like peers, how normal her reflection appears as it stares back at her every morning in the bathroom mirror. No procedures (and that’s something that she’s proud of) but no makeup either because she could never be bothered with it.
Lu Han shrugs. “I don’t know.” He turns to look down at her with a small smile. “I don’t need to know.”
“You’re okay with not knowing?”
“Don’t sound so surprised, Kim Minseol,” the pianist playfully chides, beckoning her to follow him onto a road of food shops as they maneuver their way through the crowds. It’s a food night market. “Sometimes you need to trust your gut feeling, you know.”
“I find it particularly difficult to trust my gut feeling,” is Minseol’s return. Everything smells so good, even this late into the evening, and Minseol’s stomach makes an embarrassing grumble. She only recently came off her diet; she’s not supposed to let her efforts in losing weight go to waste (or literally, to her waist).
Right then, Lu Han moves behind her to take her by the shoulders. “If you can’t trust your gut feeling, then trust your gut sound,” he teases, steering her around. “Let’s go. I hope you like nutty things.”
Even as the flavored almond cream they get later on warms Minseol up, she notes that Lu Han’s hands on her shoulders had been a lot warmer.
-
Minseol isn’t all that surprised when the door to her practice room opens, revealing none other than their resident guest pianist.
“You again,” she says jokingly.
“Me again.” Lu Han’s grin makes her grin back uncontrollably. “I could hear you. The sound of your practicing is far more appealing than the sound of arguing.”
“Arguing?” asks Minseol, feeling the man gaze at her while she tunes her violin between practicing pieces.
“Yeah. That saxophonist and clarinetist are having an extremely intense disagreement a few doors away. Something about the Boléro parts and solos.Byun Baekhyun and Do Kyungsook, I think?”
Minseol knows better, so she smiles. “Don’t mind them.” Deciding to be a fraction more outgoing than her usual self, she does a little flourish with her bow that makes the pianist laugh.“Anyway, welcome to my humble abode of a practice room. Which is technically not mine since it belongs to the Opera House, but you get the point.”
“It’s my first time playing in Sydney,” Lu Han admits, moving towards the baby grand piano in the vicinity. “I’m impressed that they have so many rooms with pianos backstage.”
“Are you hijacking my practicing session?” asks Minseol.
“No, I’m merely joining you,” he says, cheekily smirking. “So what are you playing next?”
Shifting her stand just enough for him to see the title on her score, Minseol bounces on the balls of her feet. “Your favorite dead man.” Honestly, saying the piece is one of her favorites wouldn’t be a lie either - Minseol has always loved Brahms’s slower compositions.
“I’ve actually played this before,” Lu Han suddenly exclaims, walking closer until he’s right next to Minseol, their shoulders nearly touching. “Can I borrow the accompaniment score?”
“Sure. When did you play this?”
Minseol tries not to look at Lu Han’s denim-clad butt while he bends over to adjust the piano chair before sitting down. Those jeans really look good on him. “Back when I was still in school. I had a violin major for a close friend and he loved this sonata, so I accompanied him during one of his exams. The second movement is really lovely.”
With one breath after they’re both ready, Minseol eases them into the opening phrase and lets the music take over. Having someone play with her live is definitely different from the usual backing tracks she uses in the absence of her personal accompanist. But there’s something about the way Lu Han plays that makes this performance - rehearsal, in truth, but it still feels like a real show - feel starkly different from the other times Minseol has played Brahms.
For one thing, he adapts remarkably well to her rubato, despite it being the first time they’ve played a duet. It’s too coincidental, how their interpretations of the violin and piano parts respectively seem to fit so well. Nearly a perfect match.
As far as Minseol knows, Lu Han hasn’t played this piece in a while, but it feels as if he has practiced it over and over, what with the multiple part voicing and nuances all in place. Spending a moment too long considering her remarkable observations, Minseol makes a tiny slip with her bowing. She can see Lu Han grinning out of the corner of her eye. How embarrassing.
“Whoops,” she mutters after the final cadence.
“Lost your focus for a bit?” asks Lu Han. “That’s not something I’d expect from Kim Minseol.”
“You shouldn’t, I’m not usually like that.” Minseol wonders if she’s being too quick to defend herself. It technically isn’t her fault. Well, it is, but…
“Relax, I’m kidding,” the pianist says, casually flipping through his score on the piano stand. “That was a great duet. Couldn’t help but notice our interpretations were kind of similar, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Minseol feels her own eyes light up. “I thought the same thing. My accompanists always think differently about the middle section, for example. They don’t think there should be much drive there. But I do. And when you played just now…”
“To me, the sense of line in that section is important, so naturally a strong drive should be present. Brahms always uses harmony to strengthen his drive, so if that aspect is brought out, I feel like it makes for a suitable rendition of the piece.”
Chuckling, albeit somewhat shyly, Minseol averts her gaze to the floor. “Exactly.”
“It’s not often that two different instrumentalists have interpretations that gel so well, you know. Even if it’s just for one composition. I never thought this day would come,” Lu Han exclaims melodramatically, Minseol giggling at his exaggerated expression. “People like us should record an album. We’ve got such good musical chemistry. We just need to pick a few songs, hopefully make good work of them, sell it and then get richer.”
“Sounds like a lot of work disguised by simple terms, if you ask me.” Minseol laughs again and wipes imaginary perspiration from her forehead,not without a sigh of relief for good measure. “Lucky you’re not serious.”
Lu Han pauses, turning from where he’s seated to face her. “Who said I’m not?”
It’s Minseol’s turn to pause now, only because she has no idea how to respond. “Come on,” she says after a few beats, “we should prep for the rehearsal later.”
“Okay,” Lu Han agrees while watching the violinist pack up, lowering the piano lid as well. He couldn’t possibly miss her mad blushing. “But I’m not forgetting this discussion.”
“If you say so,” Minseol replies as nonchalantly as she can, making her way out. In complete honesty, however, she hopes Lu Han doesn’t forget, because she definitely won’t.
-
“What’s your favorite part of New York?” asks Minseol, excitedly bouncing on the balls of her feet. It’s been some time since she’s visited the Big Apple for a performance; NYC is their fourth stop in the tour out of six, not including Seoul itself. Halfway across the world and so far away from home, Minseol can’t remember when the last time she felt so exhilarated was.
“The overly-sweet diabetic American cuisine,” Lu Han deadpans, but Minseol has learned that he isn’t the best at telling jokes with a straight face. Seconds later, he grins instead. “I guess I’ve missed Carnegie the most since my last trip here. Great acoustics, nice architecture, all that jazz.” He turns to Minseol as the orchestra members make their way out of the airport. “You?”
“Broadway without a doubt,” she says. “The last time I came here, Chanyoung was with me, and we managed to check out so many musicals. I’m not sure if we’ll have time to catch any this round, though.”
Lu Han shrugs. “Maybe you’ll get lucky. Besides, if you do decide to go for one, invite me.”
“Yes, sir,” salutes Minseol half-mockingly, before glancing at the sight of Lu Han’s little finger at her eye level. “What?”
The man mock-gasps as they slow down, falling behind the others a little. “Don’t tell me you don’t know about pinky promises.”
Rolling her eyes, Minseol wants to laugh at the childishness but she ends up grinning madly too. “Of course I know about pinky promises.”
“Then make one with me. About the Broadway shows.”
Sighing, Minseol raises her own hand and lets their pinkies lock, ignoring the giggles of some of the orchestra girls who have turned back to look at her.
“Done deal,” remarks Lu Han.
She nods. “Done deal.”
-
Jet lag is a pain and Minseol knows it too well. It doesn’t help that she’s the only one in her room since Kyungsook, her roommate for the Rome leg of their tour, is out. She’s alone and nothing can get her to sleep. Not even Wiegenlied.
That’s the only reason she steps out of her room for a moment, not because she’s secretly hoping that a certain guest pianist can’t sleep either.
Indeed, there Lu Han is, sitting in the lobby at five in the morning with his stupid nice t-shirt and stupid nice jeans and stupid nice face. He stands the moment he sees Minseol, and the girl wonders if he might have been anticipating her.
“Can’t sleep?” he quietly asks above the chatter of busy reception staff in the area.
“Yeah. I was never good with changing time zones.”
“Hey,” says Lu Han, leaning down a little, as if he wants to share a secret with her. “Want to go somewhere?”
Minseol blinks. “At this hour? It’s not even bright yet-”
“That’s the point,” grins the man. “Trust me on this. Get your violin and meet me back here. I promise you won’t regret it. And let your roommate know too so she doesn’t worry.”
“Nah, Kyungsook’s been out with Baekhyun the whole night,” Minseol tells him with a casual wave of her hand.
“Excuse me?”
She smiles and shrugs. “They finally got together in New York, like, officially. Resolved their Unresolved Sexual Tension and what not.” And they’re honestly quite cute together, Minseol thinks.
“That’s… romantic,” comments Lu Han. It’s almost as if he has something else to say, but the girl doesn’t question it.
Out of all the people Minseol has met in her existence, she’s only trusted a handful of them enough to call them friends and not mere acquaintances. It’s completely ridiculous how Lu Han suddenly comes along, chats her up and gains her trust just like that. For all Minseol knows he could very well be a closet psycho, but she follows his instructions and trusts him in return.
She trusts him when he beckons her to follow him out of the hotel, trusts him when he takes her hand and leads her somewhere behind the building, trusts him when he tells her they’re nearly at wherever he wants them to go to.
Good thing I’m wearing jeans, Minseol thinks to herself as the morning wind blows in her face. It’s pretty breezy, as they climb up an apparently random hill in Rome, and it sends a good part of her hair flying.
When Lu Han looks at her rather disheveled state, he chuckles. The violinist doesn’t expect it when he uses those slender pianist fingers of his to tuck her stray locks away. “Just a little more climbing,” he promises, letting go of her hand to take her pinky in his. Minseol definitely feels warm all over, and it’s not just because the sun has started to rise in the last few minutes. She thinks she’s probably going delirious.
The truth of the matter is that she’s not, and when Lu Han finally stops and says, “We’re here,” Minseol manages to take a good look around her. She turns around and her eyes widen.
“Beautiful.”
Only now does Minseol realize how high up in the city they are. From this hill, she can see both ancient ruins and modern buildings; she can see where the orchestra is supposed to perform tonight and where they went for dinner yesterday; if she squints hard enough, she can see the outline of the Vatican.
“Yeah,” replies Lu Han. “I discovered it the first time I did a competition here. Stayed in the same place.” He sighs. “It’s the most beautiful at sunrise, I find. I thought you might like it too.”
“It really is beautiful.” There’s just the right amount of light cast on the city below her, and it’s picturesque beyond description.
“Now, your violin,” the man suddenly says.
“My violin?”
“Play it,” smirks Lu Han, and Minseol wonders if there’s some sort of secretly convoluted plan formulating in his mind. “I’m serious, play it now.”
Ignoring Minseol’s protests about how his behind will be wet by the morning dew, Lu Han plops down on the grass anyway and holds Minseol’s case open for her. Choosing this instant to shoot him a questioning glance, Minseol takes her instrument out hesitantly.
“Lu Han, are you sure-”
“Yes, yes,” he insists from where he’s seated. “Trust me again on this. Try it.”
Minseol thinks she must be truly mad to have listened to all of Lu Han’s words this morning, but as the sun takes its place in the sky, she closes her eyes. Her bow meets the violin strings.
Although she doesn’t frequently confess to it, Minseol loves romantic pieces. Not solely those of the Romantic period, but those that stir emotions in you and manage to grip you from start to end.The Swan is one of those pieces, and even though it wasn’t written for the violin in the first place, she loves playing it anyway. She lets herself fall into the sound, into the melody itself, vibratos and portamentos in place for the full works of the composition.
Playing in the open is surely different from playing in a tiny practice room, or even a large hall, and Minseol relishes the feeling of the wind against her skin. There’s a certain amount of awe in her as she plays, surrounded by nature, with the city below bringing her morning greetings. The liberation she can’t help but feel is a change from the freedom she’s encountered before.
And then, she drops her bow. The music halts.
“Don’t move,” Lu Han whispers into her ear. “Let’s stay like this for a while.”
Minseol desperately wants to do something, but she can’t - not with Lu Han’s arms circling her waist from behind, her back pressed flush against his front. The girl can sense her neck warming even more, with Lu Han’s chin settling itself gently onto her shoulder, his nose lightly pressing itself into the side of her hair. She shivers as he inhales, feeling a bit afraid at the implications of his actions.
“Lu Han,” starts Minseol, eyes still fixed on the scene of Rome before her, “I- I need to pick my bow up.”
“I’ll pick it up for you later.” His hold on her gets the slightest bit firmer. “A little while more.”
It occurs to Minseol, out of the blue, that she wouldn’t mind if ‘a little while more’ meant ‘forever’ instead. As she leans back into him, she realizes that that’s a truthfully frightening thought.
-
“Good evening, Mademoiselle,” Lu Han says after their second and last concert in Paris. Just one more place to go after this, and they’d be done.
“Same to you, Monsieur,” replies Minseol with a coy smile. Something about their relationship has changed since the Italian incident; she just isn’t sure if it’s been for the better or for the worse. God bless her if she manages to conclude what exactly she and Lu Han are. Colleagues? Friends? More than that?
“You played wonderfully tonight,” the pianist tells her, and Minseol actually believes him.
“You too, of course.” She wonders if he knows that she really means it too.
“Do you know which part I think was done particularly well tonight?” asks Lu Han all of a sudden. “The Love theme in Rhapsody.”
Minseol blushes even though the statement could be a fairly generic one. “Oh. Yeah, that was good.” They’re supposed to vacate the dressing rooms so that they can call it a night, but Lu Han gets hold of her wrist just before she manages to take her leave.
“After we get back to the hotel, can I get you a drink?” Minseol can tell that he’s looking straight at her, but she won’t look at him, in case she falls too deep in. “I don’t mean coffee, I mean a real drink.”
Falling victim to Lu Han’s persuasion yet again, the violinist finds herself sitting at the bar downstairs of their quarters an hour later. She watches as Lu Han tugs her small hand towards him and starts to play with her fingers, and she would usually stop anyone from doing so. But this is Lu Han.
“Yuck.”
Lu Han makes a curious noise. “What?”
Minseol takes a sip of her wine, the man mirroring her. “I don’t know why you keep doing that. My fingers are so ugly and gross.”
“They’re not,” scoffs Lu Han, settling his glass down. “You have no idea how much I like them.”
“Okay, now you’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m perfectly serious. And perfectly sober too, in case you’re wondering.” He doesn’t stop touching her hand. “Your fingers tell of how much music means to you. They command respect and admiration. And they deserved to be treated with love.”
A sigh leaves Minseol’s mouth. “Well, Mitao did give me some hand cream once-”
Immediately, Minseol’s breath gets caught in her throat. Lu Han’s gaze is too intense, what with how he manages to lock his eyes with hers. He carefully brings each of her individual fingers to his lips, pressing kisses to the tip of each one, and it makes Minseol’s heart feel oddly shaken. It doesn’t help that once he’s done with her left hand, he takes her right hand and does the same to each of her remaining fingers.
Minseol’s eyes water for no reason. “What are you-”
The pianist shushes her tenderly, as if he’s addressing a little child. It’s funny because that’s exactly what Minseol feels like now - small and vulnerable and at a loss of what to do.
“Would you…” begins Lu Han, leaning his forehead against hers, “spend the night with me?”
Minseol leans forward. The way she presses her lips against his is enough of a ‘yes’.
-
“Beautiful.” Lu Han murmurs the word against Minseol’s neck as if it’s a sacred one, something that he’s using to worship her, while she lies bare against the sheets of his hotel room mattress.
“Han, please,” she begs, and she doesn’t even know what she’s begging for, but it seems that the pianist likes it when she addresses him that way. He growls and presses kisses against her jawline, his length also pressing into the side of Minseol’s hip.
“Say that again?” he requests, and Minseol complies, except this time the word comes out as a breathy whine. Lu Han swallows it as he moves to kiss her, sensually licking his way into her mouth; Minseol can’t help but respond with just as much passion.
It’s been a very long time since she’s been this close to anyone, and the bizarre thing is that Lu Han has found his way into her heart so quickly and so surely. Prior to meeting him, Minseol had her fair share of doubts about love and fate, but he’s been revolutionary in terms of changing her mind. It’s no longer just Minseol and music; it’s her and other people, other artistes, Lu Han himself.
“Tell me now if you want to stop,” Lu Han says as he brushes Minseol’s hair out of her eyes, kissing her forehead. “Or I won’t be able to hold back. Couldn’t ever hold myself back from you.”
There’s no way Minseol would want to end this here, not with how much her body wants him, her mind wants him, and - dare she think it - her heart wants him. Minseol wants all of Lu Han and it’s so selfish of her, but being selfish this time feels just as freeing as whenever she takes her ego up to perform onstage.
The same instant that Lu Han kisses her again, he pushes in to the hilt, both of their breaths hitching when his hips meet the back of Minseol’s thighs. “Fuck,” the pianist curses, harsh words a contrast to his finger’s gentle strokes against Minseol’s face. “Fuck, Minseol.”
On any other day, Minseol would chide him for his potty mouth, but now isn’t the time for that. As they build a steady rhythm together, Minseol anticipating the bruises she’ll most likely have in the days to come, she can’t help wanting to memorize this moment - the measures of Lu Han’s breaths, the slide of his skin against hers with their clothes forgotten on the floor, the way it feels like he truly is in love with her.
It genuinely feels like he cares for her and wants her to remember this night for good. He makes sure that she comes with him, thumb circling her clit as she bites back a loud moan of his name.
“No,” Lu Han tells her. He can tell she isn’t letting go. “I want to hear you.”
The sound of Lu Han’s voice is what pushes Minseol into sensory overload, her body tensing as the hips of the gorgeous man above her keep meeting hers, in time and relentlessly so. She’s not sure if the walls of the room are thick enough to block out her cries, but she doesn’t quite care either, at least not while she comes down from her high.
Trembling a little, Minseol struggles to take deep breaths in order to calm herself down. The way Lu Han peppers kisses along her neck, even after he settles beside her on his bed, adds to how surreal everything is. This better not be a dream, Minseol thinks seriously, because if it is she doesn’t know what she’ll do.
But everything, in all honesty, is only temporary. The way Lu Han holds her close, spooning her from behind and whispering to her as if he’s her lover - all of it won’t last. It’s a load of fleeting illusions. He’s just a guest, a temporary break from the norm, and he couldn’t possibly stay.
She pauses, and swallows.
At that very moment,Minseol starts to cry.
“Oh my god.” The weight of Lu Han’s arm slips from her body as she sits up, sheets clutched against her chest. Turning away just enough to notice it’s nearly two in the morning, Minseol can only curl into herself, tucking her legs against her chest. “Oh my god,” she repeats, hands moving to cover her face. Her cheeks aretotally wet.
She feels a warm hand on her shoulder, but she needs to shrug it off. It feels too warm. “Minseol-”
“I feel so stupid,” she sobs, barely coherent but she knows Lu Han can still make her words out. “So, so stupid.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Minseol turns back towards the man, still gripping the sheets tightly. The evident mix of confusion and hurt on his face almost makes her hold back as he sits up, but only almost. “You’re leaving! I just slept with you and you’re leaving in two days! You’ll be flying off to record whatever album you have to record that’s on your schedule, and I’ll be back in Seoul playing with the orchestra and teaching, and doing things you won’t be doing anytime soon.”
A pause. Lu Han looks her dead in the eye. “I want to make this work out.”
That’s ambitious,sneers Minseol mentally. “This isn’t a fairytale,” she says without having her voice crack.
“But,” Lu Han begins his protest loudly, only to lower his voice. “I really like you.”
A part of Minseol wants to scream in joy and suppress her rationality so that she can throw her arms around him and say yes I really like you too, but she won’t let that part overwhelm her. She glances at him, noticing how his eyes are fixed on her hands as he plays with her fingers. “You’ve known me, and I mean trulyknown me, for less than two months.”
“I don’t care.”
“I care,” she hisses, pulling her hands away and trying desperately not to look straight at the pianist who keeps stealing pieces of her heart, with his hands and eyes and all of him. “You can’t just go around and tell people you have feelings for them and rush into everything headfirst and-”
“Yes, I can,” Lu Han insists, scooting even closer so Minseol can practically feel the heat emanating from his bare torso. “This isn’t a fairytale, you’re right. But it’s not a fantasy either. You’re here; I’m here. I’ve never grown so close to someone so fast before, but this is real and you know it. If we just tried-”
“I can’t,” Minseol nearly shouts, half-attempting to block out Lu Han’s words altogether. If she listens any longer, she’s scared she’ll cave. “I can’t try.” It’s a little embarrassing, how she can feel the man’s gaze on her as she frantically locates her discarded clothes and re-dresses herself. The wetness of her panties is an uncomfortable reminder of her feelings gone out of control.
“Wait, Minseol, please-”
“We shouldn’t spend too much time together anymore,” she announces too loudly into the room, making sure Lu Han can hear her even with her back turned. “Don’t look for me. Please.”
The second Minseol takes hold of her purse, she dashes out of the room and straight back to her own room in the hotel. It’s probably a good thing that Lu Han doesn’t know where she’s staying (she hopes none of the orchestra members give it away either) because she can’t deal with him for now. She’s not sure how she’ll ever deal with him anytime soon.
“Unni, is that you?” asks Mitao from where she is in their shared quarters, on her bed with a facemask on.
Minseol replies with a quick yes and grabs a change of clothes from her luggage before locking herself in that bathroom, extremely grateful that Mitao hadn’t seen her tear-stained face. It’s so humiliatingly foolish, how the once levelheaded concertmistress had lost herself that easily to a foreign artist too charismatic for his own good.
Rushing into the shower cubicle, Minseol prays that the hot water washes her memories of Lu Han away. His smile, his laugh, his touch - they all have to go.
(But none of them do.)
-
The BBC Proms performance is supposed to be the highlight of the Seoul Philharmonic’s World Tour, and Minseol doesn’t want to disappoint any critics or patrons of the arts here in a foreign land. It is her duty to her music and herself to give the best performance she can, and to lead the orchestra in doing themselves proud.
When the audience gives them a standing ovation after Rhapsody In Blue, a familiar sense of satisfaction and accomplishment finds its way into Minseol’s head. Job well done, she praises herself and her colleagues for a night of beautifully played music.
But she can’t ignore how Lu Han gives Yunho a hug at the middle of the stage, especially when the crowd claps even more enthusiastically for the pianist. It’s perfectly logical. Minseol looks as normal as she can when Lu Han moves to shake her hand customarily. She pretends to be very interested in his bowtie instead of his face, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Like all other eager audiences, this one calls for an encore, and Lu Han graciously agrees to perform one. He says something in English to the people and they applaud immediately, but Minseol has never been too good with that particular language. She doesn’t get to catch the name of the piece, so she simply waits for Lu Han to fulfill his soloist’s encore obligation.
The second his fingers touch the keys, Minseol’s heart starts to ache. She wants to think that she’s being too dramatic, too emotional, but she’s knows she’s not because she is perfectly aware of what this piece is. As much as Minseol wants to deny it, she knows what Lu Han is trying to tell her by purposely performing this.
It’s Brahms again, but not just any Brahms. This is taken from a set of piano pieces dedicated to the woman rumored to be the love of said composer’s life, even though she already had a family of her own when they met. Yet even after her husband died, Brahms never touched her; he merely cared for her from a distance, watching over her and her familytill her death.
This particular piece is more than a simple cheesy, romantic, passionate one. In truth, it speaks of timelessness, patience and respect when it comes to loving another. It’s about waiting, regardless of how time passes and what happens in time. That notion in itself is enough to have Minseol staring down into her lap, hoping that no one sees her tears while Lu Han milks the intermezzo’s lyrical melodies for everything they can be.
That encore piece is the reason Minseol silently leaves the stage as fast as she can when the lights go up, wanting nothing more than to curl up in her bed on this last night of touring. She’ll just tell someone that’s she’s not feeling well and that she’s skipping the post-Proms celebrations. There’s no way that she’ll be able to stay appropriately composed, even if she stays for the remaining performances of the night.
So Minseol does just that; she tells Lixing she’s leaving, the younger girl nodding but giving her aninquiring glance anyway. The concertmistress packs her things and gulps some water down and plans to hail a cab once she’s outside.
She turns around with her belongings ready. Right at the doorway of her dressing room, Lu Han stands.
“I,” says Minseol, gulping audibly. “I’m going.”
“I know.” Lu Han walks up to her and before she can react in time, he talks her free hand in his. “I know.”
Minseol’s conscience is screaming inside of her head to stop him, to pull away, but Lu Han is far too quick for her to physically react.
The soft press of his lips against the back of her hand makes her vision blur. But what he says next is what breaks her.
“Goodbye.”
Lu Han turns, and he leaves.
In some of her life’s most trying times, Minseol has always had music anchor her. She closes her eyes and tries to listen for something, anything she can hold onto, but there’s only silence. This time, she doesn’t have any music.
Neither does she have her heart.
-
The weather in Germany is wonderful at this time of the year, perfect for taking a walk outside and enjoying the sights and sounds of the city.
As she walks past theGewandhaus, Minseol breaks into a smile. She played Mendelssohn there yesterday and she’ll do the same tonight, with none other than the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra. Thank goodness her German is at a conversational level; nothing could have better prepared her for the leave she took from Seoul in order to tour around Europe for a few months.
Perhaps she’ll try something new this afternoon. Minseol has seen her fair share of impromptu performance videos on in Internet, and to be honest she’s wanted to give those a go for a long time. Maybe she’ll find herself a nice spot in the area to settle her case down and play a few tunes.
Peering out into the open park nearby, Minseol grins at the sight of a few kids playing, and a few other locals merely enjoying the afternoon as they sit on the lawn. It’s also because of this that she doesn’t quite watch where she’s going.
“I’m so sorry,” she exclaims in accented German, trying to pull herself away from the poor person she had crashed into.
“It’s okay.” Minseol freezes. That’s not a German response. It’s a Korean one, but one that isn’t with your typical Korean accent.
For a moment, she looks at the man opposite her and her jaw drops. She can’t mistake that face for anyone else’s. His dark hair, his smile, the way he’s gently holding her arms to steady her - it’s all the same.
Lu Han blinks. “Hey.”
Minseol takes a few staggering steps back. “What are you doing here?” The question comes out fiercer than she intended and she mentally winces. Her intention had been to genuinely ask, not to scare.
But the pianist seems to take it in his stride. “I came to watch you perform. Just wrapped up some work in Berlin so I thought I would drop by. You played beautifully yesterday night.”
Looking at him carefully, Minseol bites her lower lip, swinging her violin case very slightly.
“What are you really doing here?”
Immediately, the Lu Han’s face changes. Seeing the vacant expression he returns her, Minseol wonders if he’s suddenly zoned out. But then he takes a deep breath, as if whatever he’s about to say next will take a Herculean effort.
“I don’t know if you’ve been counting, but it’s been sixth months since we played together.” Of course Minseol knows; how could she not have counted? “Six months of not knowing what to do.Wondering if I should find a way to call you, look for you.”
You were supposed to move on, you idiot. Minseol can’t say it aloud.
A cough leaves Lu Han’s mouth again as he gives the trees around them a once over. “When I heard you’d be performing here, I knew I couldn’t - or I shouldn’t - keep myself away any longer.” The moment he finally looks at her again, it’s with those hooded eyes and with that soft gaze of affection that Minseol has tried so hard to forget.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she whispers, eyeing the ground. She holds back a gasp when his shoes come into her line of sight.
“I missed you,” he says softly, loud enough for only her to hear, with all the children playing in a neighboring field.“I missed you very much. But it’s all up to you. Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t miss me, and I’ll go away.”
Something in the Lu Han’s voice tells Minseol that he’s serious. She’s also serious; seriously torn between choosing what she thinks she should want, and what she really wants. The violin case in her hand shakes as she trembles herself.
“Please,” Lu Han begs, voice almost reduced to a murmur, a hand carefully resting on her shoulder, “give us a chance.”
Minseol is no stranger to the notion of taking chances. She has taken chances with going against her family’s wishes, with putting herself on airplanes to compete all over the globe, with accepting the position of concertmistress despite the more senior players scrutinizing her. But that doesn’t make taking all chances given to her an easy task.
“I don’t know if I can,” Minseol says truthfully, heart aching. Resignation seeps onto Lu Han’s handsome face and he retracts his hand.
“But,” she quickly adds,“I could try to give the music a chance. Our music, that is.”
The Chinese man blinks and lifts a curious brow. “Our music?” he questions slowly, carefully.
The petite violinistshifts her gaze to the clear sky above and sighs, a hint of cheekiness surfacing. “Last time. You said you wanted to record an album together. Or was that a load of sweet talk?”
Lowering her head, she’s met with the sight of a beaming Lu Han, even though he’s not grinning widely at all. He only bears his usual smile, but the brightness in his eyes says enough.
“No, not at all. I mean, yes, I want to record with you. Absolutely.” The fact that the charming man in front of her can’t quite contain his excitement makes Minseol giggle.“We should talk. Over a drink, maybe?”
She nods. “Coffee. Decaf.” Lu Han gives a small chuckle, and casts Minseol a look she knows is of fondness.
“May I?” Hetakes another step towards her, carefully taking hold ofher violin case. Their fingers brush, but neither of them reacts too much to it.
Minseol smiles. She knows of a good café around the corner. “Of course you may.”
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Author’s note: dear colourstacia, i hope i didn’t butcher your lovely prompt! also many thanks to the mod for her support and help <3