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There was once a piano boy with golden hair and a golden voice. He sung so beautifully and pressed each key so delicate that even angels from above would hear his lulls and lament. The piano boy, however, was embarrassed of his gift. Instead of proudly displaying his talent, he practiced and hummed in secret.
Behind a ballet practice room where one-way mirrors paint the walls, lays a piano, made of mahogany and handcrafted for its owner. If one listens closely enough at night, the cords of the piano can be heard softly through the walls. The piano boy routinely slips in through the backdoors of the building, as the nightly custodians forget to lock it, and plays and sings to his heart’s desire for no one to hear. Yet, what the boy did not know, that it was his sin.
The gods had chosen these gifts for him with a purpose, with intent to present them to the world and soothe the sorrows of audiences that praised and listened to his tunes. With the piano boy living in fear, the divine had no choice but to punish him for disobeying their wishes. Consequently, they had cursed him to painfully fall in love, assuming it would be one-sided as the boy was sheepish and uncouth. Thus, the next time he fled to his practice room, he was destined to fall.
The fated night came, and as the blond boy’s fingers sunk into the keys of the piano, he became startled. His head whipped to the mirrors, vision capturing the image of a young dancer. Accompanying the dancer’s chocolate brown hair was fair skin and a toned body, clothed by spandex, a white oversized shirt, and ballet shoes. The dancer’s every spin and dip were tracked by the piano boy, landing and swaying gracefully to the music booming from a nearby phone. It seemed as if the piano boy wasn’t the only one to sneak into this building anymore, even though he was more inconspicuous, using a shady backroom.
As it was deemed to be, the blond’s heart writhed at the sight of the young brunette, falling to his knees. A feeling so foreign invaded him, being smitten by the gods with seemingly unrequited love. For the rest of the night, the piano boy did not practice his usual lyrical cycle. Instead, he spread out his limbs near the one-way mirror, examining the dancer’s every move. The more he saw, the harder he fell.
So, it was, the piano boy would come every night to play and sing quieter than he ever had, to keep his presence a secret to the young dancer, who blasted music and danced along to it in peace. Even as his love grew more and more, and he yearned more and more for the brunette, he remained complacent. This was a love heavier than the gods could have ever foreseen.
On one fatal evening, the dancer’s phone had seemingly died while playing music, and the room grew silent except for the vibration of the piano keys that began to ring in the dancer’s ears. Alarmed with what had happened, the piano boy fumbled to pick up the sheet music, dropping and scrambling to gather them. With the crumpled papers in his arms, the sweat of his hands made turning the doorknob a struggle in itself. As the knob twisted open, standing there was the dancer. From up close, the piano boy could see the flutter of his lashes and the beads of sweat dripping down from his forehead, but it made the dancer even more enticing.
Staring at the golden-haired boy, the brunette opened his mouth to speak,
“Play it again for me.”
A blush crept over the piano boy’s face, his cheeks and ears turning carnation pink. In a daze, he found himself sitting at the bench of a piano, and his body trembling at the brisk touch of the piano keys. Eyes flickering shut, his fingers darted across the keys, melodies resonating from the instrument. As he played on, his low hum turned to an ardent hymn, like a scratch that needed to be itched. When his eyes finally opened, the dancer had been prancing around the room, encircling the piano with every step. His skin gleamed beautifully in comparison to the mahogany piano while his toes were perfectly pointed in every measure. The scene played out like a dream, a surreal encounter to both budding artists.
For months onwards, the two would meet in the ballet room, eventually moving the piano out there due to the larger space and better lighting. While the piano boy sung and played, the dancer’s heart ached for him as the other’s once did in secret. At times, one would play and the other would merely watch, or they would both practice together at once, in collaboration. Though they both performed together in silence, with no real spoken words between the two, there was an implicit message they had come to convey to each other through their works of art. Like a campfire, each meeting added more and more to the flame, on the verge of a forest fire. Fire brings light, but it will burn as well.
At the climax of it all, the two finally kissed. The brunette had had enough of the blond’s bashfulness, grabbing a handful of the boy’s shirt to bring him close enough to feel his breath. Looking into his doe eyes, he seized his lips onto the other’s, a mewl escaping both of their mouths. Melting into each other, they fell.
At the same time, the gods realized their punishment did not work on the piano boy. Though the boy had watched the dancer from afar in anguish for a period, it came to an end, and all they could sense from him was ecstasy from the touch of his lover. Accordingly, the gods decided that “nothing gold can stay”.
Life happens in an instant. The dancer stopped showing up to their sessions. The piano boy waited and waited, even visiting during the day to see if the other had possibly begun to take real classes rather than sneaking in to dance at night. He scanned the whole city for the brunette, wishing on a star and flipping every coin into a fountain with the intent to find him. For every day and every night without the dancer, the piano boy wept.
Resting his head in his hands, The boy became fearful of forgetting his love. The golden-haired boy began to work every night, fervently playing the piano till his joints burned and singing till his throat scorched. For weeks, he wrote down all the notes he played together, all the harmonies he delivered, and every melody that escaped his mouth.
With ink-stained hands, his arrangement was heard. He performed during the day, under the golden sun casting its rays down to warm not only his golden hair, but his heart as well. Before beginning, he clenched his fists and tightly shut his eyes, announcing that this was for "Park Jimin, my ballet dancer”. Playing with everything left in him, tears rolled down his cheek as he sang to anyone and everyone, immortalizing the chocolate-haired boy forever in his symphony.