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“Truth is found neither in the thesis nor the antithesis, but in an emergent synthesis which reconciles the two.”
― Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel

In the grand scheme of all that the universe wills, Park Sunghoon considered himself the most minute and insignificant speck. He was but a mere cellist, afraid to confront life head-on and hiding behind his equally insignificant instrument.

In Sunghoon’s world, there was always rain. Or snow. Or both. His melodies marched to the tune of gloom, nimbus clouds and nihilism. His performances were anything but dull. But it always conjured up only tears in people’s eyes. He never smiled. He considered it unnecessary. He barely spoke to strangers. He considered it tiring. He approached life with the indifference that even non-human animal species do not possess.

So of course, it was a complete and utter surprise to see a smile tug on this man’s lips as he watched the pianist in front of him play an upbeat melody.

“Sunghoon,” Jay called out to his best friend. The cellist was walking two steps ahead of him, a steady stride indicating nothing of importance had happened in the music hall.

“Hmm?” Sunghoon answered.

“You wanted to smile,” Jay claimed.

Sunghoon paused in his tracks. “Did I?”

“After watching Kim Sunoo play, you wanted to smile. I could see it on your face. It looked… strange.”

Sunghoon did not answer and continued his walk to the car.

Kim Sunoo did not consider life species insignificant.

“So what if the universe is a vast realm of dark matter and we are but small parts of it?” He would say. “We still live here. We still create here. We still exist here.”

He would destroy nihilism with simple statements such as these.

Sunoo’s most common nickname was “Sunshine”. His cheerful voice, the intonations in his tones commonly indicating only excitement or joy, and his enrapturing eyes often creasing into the most beautiful and heartwarming smiles had eyes flitting to him every time he walked into a room. His presence was easing and his melodies only created a smile on the face of the listener.

It was bound to happen that he would meet the antithesis of himself soon.

His unique path to a synthesis into a higher level came in the form of a tall and wide eyed man staring at him, as if he possessed the secrets of the universe’s unraveling in his eyes. It was the same man who had seen him play the piano in an empty hall yesterday.

“Hi!” Sunoo beamed. “I’m Kim Sunoo.”

The man with the dazed look on his face floundered for words. “Sung- Park Sunghoon.”

“We’re working together for the next concerto, right?” Sunoo asked with a wide smile.

Sunghoon blinked. “Hmm?”

Sunoo tilted his head. “The next concerto? You’re Park Sunghoon. The famous cellist. I’m Kim Sunoo, the pianist. I’m supposed to work with you.”

Sunoo saw realization dawn on Sunghoon’s face. “Oh. Right. The concerto.”

Sunghoon’s voice was soft but tinged with a kind of gloom Sunoo wasn’t too familiar with.

“We can begin the practice today, if you’d like!” But Sunoo wanted to make a good impression. There was something about Sunghoon that made him want to befriend the other man.

In his 25 years of life, he had not once faced this desire with so much intensity.

“That’s okay. We’ll just do it tomorrow,” Sunghoon answered in a monotone.

Sunoo involuntarily pouted, as if his emotions controlled his very being.

“Oh,” he said in a small voice.

“I mean!” And it was the first time Sunoo had heard an intonation in Sunghoon’s voice. “If you want to, we- we can do it today.”

They can do it today! They can practice together today! But before Sunoo could express his excitement, a voice at the music hall’s entrance called out Sunghoon’s name.

“We gotta go,” Jay said. 

Oh. Well.

Sunghoon’s face crumpled into an apologetic and painfully sad expression. “I’m sorry.”

“No worries!” Sunoo said with a smile. “We’ll practice tomorrow!”

He wished he could at least see a smile on Sunghoon’s face before the cellist ran up to his friend.

“The concerto is a month later,” Sunoo explained as he and Sunghoon walked through the corridor. “But I always think early practice never hurt anyone.”

Sunoo’s outfit for the day consisted of white pants, a pastel pink sweater and a yellow beanie. Sunghoon, meanwhile, was… dressed in all black. Again. 

“You look like a cute black cat!” Sunoo remarked with the brightest smile on his face. Sunghoon was sure even the sun wasn’t this bright. He only stared at the beautiful man in front of him. 

“Park-ssi?” Sunoo asked. His head was tilted, and his auburn locks fell on his face to create an illusion of a higher power having descended to greet Sunghoon.

“You can- you can call me hyung,” Sunghoon said.

“Okay!” Sunoo said, radiating a light Sunghoon felt blind to witness. “Sunghoon hyung!”

Sunghoon could suddenly see bright sunshine, sunflowers and the wings of the butterflies perched on them at peace. He could hear wind chimes in the distance. He could see fairy lights in his periphery. He could see the azure sky calling out to him. He could see cotton candy in his hands.

How to define gloom? Well, you can no longer ask Park Sunghoon that. 

It started with an anonymous request.

“This makes you look like a 19th century classical musician who was under the patronage of aristocratic women and they demanded the musician compose melodies for them that they wanted,” Jay remarked the night the request had arrived.

“That is an awfully specific description,” Sunghoon said. The soup spoon in his hand was hovering near his mouth.

“I just haven’t seen this kind of thing ever. And I’ve been observing this field for the past 8 years.”

With Jay being one of the very few classical musician journalists in the country, Sunghoon did not doubt his claim.

“Can you repeat the entire request for me again?” Jay asked. “You and Kim Sunoo are hot topics in this world. I need to know exactly how to write this article.”

“I received a letter that requested me to do a double concerto with Kim Sunoo-“

“Who is as famous as you-“

“Who is as famous as me. It was an anonymous letter. And the sender sent it because…”

Sunghoon’s face fell. 

“Because they are terminally ill and you and Sunoo are their two favorite classical musicians,” Jay finished for him.

Sunghoon sighed. “I’ll do it for them. It’s wrong for me not to do it.”

Jay nodded. “I’ll show you the hall tomorrow where Kim Sunoo usually plays.”

Here he was. A week later. In the hall all alone with Sunoo. 

And he found himself learning the definition of sunshine.

“The piece that the letter sender requested,” Sunoo started as he walked into the hall on the second day, “is Paganini’s Cantabile MS 109.”

“A very specific request,” Sunghoon commented.

“Indeed,” Sunoo said as he sat down on one of the hall seats. He adjusted his hair as he took off his beanie. “But one that’s interesting for the both of us.”

Sunghoon recalled their small practice session from yesterday. It was what Sunoo had labelled “free flow of our sounds”, where the two musicians had either played particular pieces or stray melodies from pieces they had composed, too afraid to expose themselves completely. But today, the real practice was to start. And Sunghoon did not even understand the request.

“Why?” He asked.

“Because,” Sunoo explained as he rummaged through his bag for something, “when played on the cello or the violin, this particular cantabile has a calm and contented feel to it. As if you are residing in a village in southern France. You are about to drink champagne with your friends and enjoy a French brunch. Or you’re in a villa in the 18th century. You’re an aristocrat. There is no war to be fought. You await the scrumptious dinner that your cooks have made for you.”

A smile tugged at Sunghoon’s lips. “The imagery that conjures up is interesting.”

“But when you play it on the piano,” Sunoo finally pulled out the sheet music from his bag, “it loses the feeling of lightheartedness that dominates the piece when cellists or violinists play it. It’s content, sure. But this time the war is around the corner. Your lover kisses you as if everyday is the last. Because it probably is. You’re thinking about the champagne you’re finishing soon. You’re thinking about the water or electricity problems in the region of southern France where you reside. There’s an edge to some of the notes.”

The silence that dominated the room following Sunoo’s explanation was too loud.

Sunoo gave him a quick smile. “Sounds strange, doesn’t it, hyung? The articles write you as the musician of gloom- with respect, of course. But they describe me as the musician of a bright day. The monikers define us in an authoritative way. Yet this request seeks to reverse it. It wants to challenge these names.”

“Why would they want to do that?” Sunghoon asked before he could even think over his question.

“I wouldn’t know,” Sunoo said with a mysterious smile. “But it would be fine, right? We’d be breathing out of our shells.”

Sunghoon did not think of Sunoo’s cheerfulness as a “shell”. It surprised him that Sunoo himself thought so.

“You consider your jovial nature as a shell?”

“Hmm,” Sunoo considered. He moved up to the stage to adjust the sheet music on the stand. “Don’t you? Consider your gloomy nature as a shell, I mean? Isn’t that what everyone limits you to?”

This side of Sunoo was new to Sunghoon. But it was also strangely refreshing.

“We should have days and concertos where we rest from this image created of us,” Sunoo said with his fingers on the piano. “Only then will we both achieve something harmonious together.”

Sunghoon eyed his brown cello case with a frown. “Do you think we can do that in a month?”

He couldn’t see it. But Sunghoon was sure Sunoo had smiled at his question, even if he never answered it.

Sunoo’s fingers finally clicked a key on the piano.

The practice sessions became a calming routine for Sunghoon in the next few days. So much so that the coming of a free Sunday distressed him.

The nervous pacing around he was subjecting Jay to watch in their home’s living room made the latter frown deeply.

“You need to stop,” Jay said. “One day without Sunoo wouldn’t kill you.”

“It’s not Sunoo. It’s-” Sunghoon attempted to complete the sentence in frustration in the form of vague words and hand gestures.

“It’s Sunoo,” Jay claimed assertively. “You like spending time with him. I’ve never seen you so… vibrant for days in a row.”

“Is that bad?” Sunghoon asked, suddenly conscious of the image he and the world had built for himself.

Jay’s expression was unreadable. “No.”

Sunoo’s nimble fingers attracted every gaze of Sunghoon that he did not want to keep on anyone. The commanding fingers swept the piano with tenderness, love and utmost care. But there was an urgency, a need that was unable to manifest itself.

“You’re not playing,” Sunoo observed with a smile as he turned around on his stool.

Sunghoon immediately shifted his eyes back to the front. The empty hall had light sunlight streaming in through the narrow closed windows above. He wasn’t sure if it was 2 PM or 4 PM. Time did not exist as an entity in the hall.

The hand on his bow was stationary. “I was listening to you. To, uh, assess if we’ll harmonize well.”

Sunghoon could hear the mischievous smile in Sunoo’s voice. “Really? I’d love to listen to you too then.”

Although they had been practicing together for a week, Sunghoon still couldn’t shake off the nervousness he felt around Sunoo. Jay was right. Sunoo had robbed him of the calmness he thought was inherent to him.

But his hand moved at the command of Sunoo’s honeyed request. The bow rested on the strings before it started resonating in the beautiful melody of Paganini’s Cantabile.

In the concert hall, there was only the loveliness of the piece. Sunghoon’s attempt at perfecting the Cantabile lasted for 20 seconds. But when it ended, the air had shifted significantly.

He moved his eyes to Sunoo, who was smiling brightly. Sunghoon knew there was a sun outside. But Sunoo was now becoming his daylight.

“It suits you,” Sunoo said.

The contentment and brightness of the piece suits him- gloomy and icy Park Sunghoon.

He finally let out a smile.

Two days later, the official article detailing the specificity of the double concertos had been released. 

Jay had- very embarrassingly for Sunghoon- described it as the “collaboration of the century”. Sunoo had chuckled at the description when Sunghoon had shown him the news piece. Sunoo’s amber eyes reflected the joy he felt. But there was something amiss in his expression that day.

“Sunoo-yah,” Sunghoon called out gently. He had fallen into the habit of always attaching this affection-showing particle to Sunoo’s name (although it hadn’t even been two weeks since they had met), “are you doing well?”

Walking alongside Sunoo under the bare trees of winter, Sunghoon felt he was only hallucinating when he saw his company assume a paler face. A light breeze disturbed the warmth of Sunoo’s overcoat for a second. Sunghoon wanted to give him his own jacket.

“Why would I not?” Sunoo said with a bright smile. But Sunghoon could sense an emotion bubbling underneath, almost reaching the surface.

How would he reply to Sunoo’s query though? 

“Nothing,” he said with a small smile- they all came easily to him now. At least, they came easily when he was with Sunoo.

Sunoo only tilted his head amusedly. Sunghoon, for the first time in his life, found himself wishing for the cherry blossoms to arrive. 

They would complement Sunoo’s pink cheeks well.

“This Cantabile demands insanity just as much as any other Paganini piece does,” Sunoo told Sunghoon on a bright morning. He looked agitated, as if his nerves were on fire. “Maybe even more than the other pieces.”

“Why?” Sunghoon asked. He was dressed in black again. But Sunoo couldn’t stop noticing the softness that enveloped him. 

“Because,” Sunoo answered as he put his sheet music on the stand and sighed, “it forces you to be… content.” He added the last word with significant disgust. It surprised Sunghoon. “To keep this feeling that everything will be okay. It demands the impossible from you.”

Sunghoon realized with a start how Sunoo had developed a newfound willingness to be vulnerable with him.

“I thought you believed in that yourself, Sunoo-yah. That things will be okay.”

“Well, now I don’t!” Sunoo almost shouted as he turned around. There was some fire in his eyes- an extinguished one, but a fire which had left behind many victims.

Sunghoon did not feel life was particularly worth living. Human beings existed on Earth as a coincidence, mere creatures in the grand scheme of things. 

But for Sunoo… for Sunoo, he wanted to try giving it more meaning. 

He inched forward. “I believe in that. I think we’ll be okay.”

Sunoo’s words ran like a prophecy in his mind. “Yet this request seeks to reverse it. It wants to challenge these names.”

Sunghoon thought he saw Sunoo’s eyes water. He wasn’t sure. Sunoo moved around too fast for him to gather any assessment.

“Let’s- let’s practice,” Sunoo said. 

But Sunghoon knew he was closer to an opening.

“It’s like you’ve both changed,” Jay said one afternoon at lunch. It was a sunny day again. But it was also much colder. In the restaurant patio where they sat, sunlight poured directly over them. “Like there has been some switch. You’re brighter now, like a strange black cat who has learned to smile. And Sunoo’s more… subdued now. It’s like he only shows happiness when…”

Jay trailed off. Sunghoon knew he was thinking hard. “When he actually wants to?” Sunghoon completed.

Jay looked at him with shock. Or awe. Or both. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s it. Like he’s more comfortable with you.”

Sunghoon’s fork touched his lips when Jay spoke his next sentence.

“You remember when we studied Hegel’s dialectics?”

“Jay-ah, I either skipped half of my university classes or slept in the other half.”

Jay waved his hand around in slight frustration, earning a chuckle from Sunghoon. For a second, Jay stopped in shock to stare at him. But he quickly composed himself.

“Thesis, antithesis and synthesis. These are the simplest terms to explain it. When a thesis and its antithesis come together, they meet in the middle to form a synthesis. The synthesis is a developed version of both. It addresses the issues of both while also rectifying them. I think that’s what the both of you are experiencing.”

Sunghoon tilted his head. “Huh?”

Jay frowned. “Did you learn that head tilt from Sunoo?” 

Sunghoon immediately set his head straight. “N-no.”

Jay only frowned more. “Whatever. My point is- you and Sunoo are reaching this synthesis. Because you’re the thesis. And he’s the antithesis. It’s important for the development both of you need.”

“What development does Sunoo need?” Sunghoon asked, clearly confused. Wasn’t Sunoo nearly perfect?

“You don’t know?” Jay asked in confusion.

“Know what?”

“About Sunoo. He lost his entire family in a car accident. From what I’ve researched, he never healed from that.”

Sunghoon’s jaw became agape in shock.

“He doesn’t talk about it,” Jay continued, “he lives alone, and all the friends he has care about him but they clearly think he has walls built around himself.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“I’m a classical music journalist, Sunghoon. My work is to make people interested in classical musicians of today. I had to research and interview him and his friends some day or the other.”

It all came back to him. A memory that was so insignificant that it had not received more attention from him. The memory of Jay mentioning a certain Kim Sunoo on the dinner table- and a long, vulnerable interview with the “Sunshine Pianist.” 

Sunghoon had even disliked it- all the comparisons drawn between him and Kim Sunoo.

His heart ached.

“Hyung!” Sunoo greeted him at his doorstep with a bright smile the next morning. “Good morning!”

“Sunoo-yah,” Sunghoon greeted in shock. “How did you…?”

“I told him our address,” Jay crept up from behind him. “I thought you would have done that sooner.” 

And sure, Sunghoon had wanted to do it sooner. Sunoo had offered to pick him up on his way to the concert hall. But his shyness had overtaken every desire to be with Sunoo.

“It’s fine,” Sunoo said with a big smile. Sunghoon felt like every cell of his body was receiving new light from it. “Now I can pick up Sunghoon hyung any time!”

Sunghoon would like that.

“L-let’s go,” Sunghoon said, shaking himself out of the stupor that was begging to be caused by Sunoo’s beauty.

Was he really about to start fantasizing about something for the first time in his life?

“So,” Sunoo started as they sat in his car. Sunghoon regretted not having a driving license yet. “What’s the deal with you and Jay-ssi?”

“What?” Sunghoon did not understand the question.

“I mean, are you dating? Married? Fri-”

“Married?” Sunghoon asked with horror. “I will never marry Jay.”

Sunoo’s surprised expression remained on his face for only a minute before he proceeded to laugh loudly. “So you’re friends.”

“Best friends, yeah.”

“How did you both meet?”

“University. I was already active in the world of classical music. He had a serious interest in it, but from a distance. We were both tired philosophy majors. So we connected.”

Sunghoon’s memory offered him up some relevant scenes from his university days- rushing to his cream-walled classes in first year, meeting Jay in one of those classes, Jay protecting him from every debate that occurred against his views in class, him providing encouragement to Jay on a rainy day to pursue an unconventional path, Jay being present at every concerto of Sunghoon’s.

“And what about a partner? Do you have one?” Sunoo’s question was posed with a certain care in his voice, as if he was holding back. His eyes straight on the road were betrayed by the nervous pursing of his lips.

“No,” Sunghoon answered. “Not yet.”

No more words were exchanged after his reply.

The next practice session was held at Sunghoon and Jay’s home. It was also where Sunghoon finally understood Sunoo.

Jay had been asleep since a long time. Sunghoon did not want to disturb him after he had been complaining of body weakness since the night before. But he wondered if even the practice room would be able to muffle the piano and cello’s sound.

“How did you both afford such a big house? You have a practice room, a library, even a swimming pool in your backyard,” Sunoo asked. He was dressed in a soft and plush sweater today that resembled a cotton candy- if cotton candies were pink and purple. It gave Sunoo a tender look, one that made Sunghoon repress his urge to card his fingers through Sunoo’s hair.

“We both come from money,” Sunghoon answered. The coffee cup on the kitchen island was too dark. It was ruining the softness in front of him.

Sunoo only nodded and sipped his coffee.

“Is the coffee fine?” Sunghoon asked.

Sunoo smiled. “Of course.”

“What about you though? You never let me pick you up,” Sunghoon asked carefully.

Sunoo took a long sip of his coffee before he answered the question posed to him.

“I don’t like people coming to my house.”

Sunghoon’s rendezvous with bright sunshine was limited mostly to Sunoo. It wasn’t that the sun did not exist outside. But Sunghoon’s skin had always been made of ice. It was a layer that the sun was unable to penetrate. Unlike Sunoo, who was brighter than the sunshine.

And yet this brightness was diminishing now. Or so he assumed.

“Oh,” was all Sunghoon could say in reply.

“Hyung,” Sunoo said, suddenly looking nervous, “it’s not that I don’t trust you. I mean, we’ve only known each other for two weeks or so-”

18 days. Sunghoon had counted. He had known Sunoo for 18 days.

“But I do trust you. You make me… comfortable.” Sunoo’s cheeks were red. Sunghoon was sure of that. “There’s just so much here that I find impossible to talk about.”

“That’s okay,” Sunghoon said immediately with a reassuring tone. “You don’t need to force yourself to do anything.”

Sunoo smiled. The smile wasn’t too warm. Or too bright. But it was there, Sunghoon realized. Like most of Sunoo’s smiles, it was genuine. Yet, more specifically, it revealed a vulnerability. 

The sun making himself vulnerable to the moon? At least, that’s what the sun’s eyes pleaded.

“Do you have family, Sunghoon hyung?” Sunoo asked. His expression was even more open now.

“A sister and my grandmother. My parents passed away when I was young.”

“How did they pass away?”

“Car accident.”

Sunoo smiled. “The stars aligned for us, didn’t they?”

Sunghoon felt a deep melancholy run through his veins at Sunoo’s words. He suddenly remembered Jay’s words. But he had to confirm.

“Why?” he asked innocently. 

“My family also died in a car accident when I was 17. I was the only survivor.”

The sunshine had always been tainted. Sunghoon just hadn’t looked at the other side.

But did that change anything? Did it change the fact that Sunghoon firmly believed Sunoo was made of cotton candies? Did it change the fact that Sunghoon considered Sunoo’s piano magical, the melodies coming out of it stitching up the small wounds he had? 

Did it change the fact that he was slowly falling for Sunoo?

“I’m sorry to know that,” he said in a whisper.

Sunoo shook his head with a smile. “It’s okay.”

And Sunghoon wanted to stitch Sunoo’s wounds too.

The separation of their emotions was divided by a thick boundary when Sunoo had first met Sunghoon. He had marvelled at the calmness and the discipline that seemed to come so naturally to the cellist. He had felt complete at the very idea of Sunghoon’s existence.

But as the distance between the emotions shifted from the edges of a sea to a lake, the melodies of the two came closer to form a harmonious whole.

At present, Sunghoon’s hand moved the bow gracefully through his cello’s strings. Sunoo’s back was turned to him, his own hands eliciting notes from the piano in quick succession.

It came together slowly. Sunoo could almost physically feel it. A synthesis. A harmony. The climax to be reached was closer. 

The final parts of the Cantabile finished with the moonlight streaming in on a full moon night through the windows of Sunghoon’s practice room. 

Sunghoon’s bow rested. But Sunoo’s hands remained on the piano. 

“Sunghoon hyung,” Sunoo called out to the cellist without turning around.

“Hmm?”

“I composed something when I was 17. It was my first and last composition.”

There was no reply.

“Would you like to listen to it?” Sunoo asked, hands still poised on the piano.

“Yes,” Sunghoon answered. Sunoo heard his chair scrape against the floor as he got up and took a seat on the piano bench Sunoo was seated on.

The close proximity did not unnerve Sunoo as much as he thought it could. 

His fingers pressed a single key, almost as an experiment. He was planning to lay himself bare under Sunghoon, giving one of his most important pieces to him. The possession of the feelings he had buried deep into the piece was now being transferred to Sunghoon.

Sunoo took a deep breath. The keys came under his masterful control as he began the piece. Sunghoon sat still beside him, intently listening to every single emotion Sunoo wanted to convey.

The melancholia of the piece should have surprised Sunghoon. But it never did. Sunghoon sat with rapt attention trained on Sunoo’s fingers. Sunoo treaded on, second-by-second becoming sure of a conviction he had in the back of his mind.

Sunghoon would take care of these emotions. Sunghoon would understand the piece he had created. Sunghoon wouldn’t pass judgments on the Sunshine Pianist for composing a melody filled with gloom. Sunghoon would understand him.

In the middle, they met. The melodies of their heart danced carefully with each other, slowly becoming one. An eclipse was about to emerge.

When Sunoo stopped and looked into Sunghoon’s eyes, it was then that he understood.

He and Sunghoon were merging into a contented harmonious whole. 

“Sunoo-yah,” Sunghoon started one day.

Their practice sessions were now alternately held at Sunghoon and Jay’s house. The lazy late afternoon sunlight from the French windows illuminated Sunghoon’s face.

“Hmm?” Sunoo asked with a smile. 

“What happens after we’re done with the concerto?”

Sunoo tilted his head. “What do you mean? If you want, we can go out for dinner to celebrate.”

Sunghoon twiddled his fingers. “Long term. I meant long term. What happens when it’s all done?”

Oh. Right.

Separation. Sunoo hadn’t considered separation as a factor. Eclipses don’t last forever, after all.

“Then we go our separate ways,” said Sunoo.

He did not want to assess the pain he saw flash across Sunghoon’s face.

“Jay is out today,” Sunghoon said instead of a reply to Sunoo’s answer. “Would you like to eat dinner here?”

“You can cook?” Sunoo asked with slight amusement in his voice.

“Of course,” Sunghoon said, with an almost equal amount of slight offence. This elicited a chuckle from Sunoo.

“Okay,” Sunoo said. “Let’s eat dinner together, hyung.”

“The show is in five days,” Sunghoon said as he brought over the dishes while Sunoo set the table.

“I’m aware, yes,” Sunoo answered.

Sunghoon stood still by the table now. “I think I’m scared.”

The honest admission from Sunghoon shocked Sunoo. “Of what?”

Sunghoon twiddled his fingers. Again. Sunoo noticed how this was a common habit of his. “I don’t want to mess it up.”

Sunoo found it cute. The cellist Park Sunghoon was nervous? 

“If there’s anyone I know will do well in any concerto, it’s you, hyung.”

It all came together like magic soon. Everyday till the concert, Sunghoon and Sunoo grew closer to the synthesis they were slowly crafting. It came in the form of a harmony that made the cello and the piano almost indistinguishable. They connected, and connected, and connected. No part of them diverged from the synthesis. 

Only the whole that was their complete synthesis awaited them.

The day before the concerto was declared as a "free" day by Sunoo. He had pushed Sunghoon with him to the local park. Although not too big, Sunoo had still found them both an almost invisible space with a bench. 

Only the birds chirped around them in the late afternoon of that day.

"You never told me about yourself, hyung," Sunoo said.

"What do you want to know?" Sunghoon asked. He was eager to lay himself bare in front of Sunoo. It was the least he could do after Sunoo had done the same.

"Anything. I was always interested in your past, though."

Sunghoon smiled. "Nothing special. My parents passed away when I was young. My grandmother took me and my sister in. But she wasn't a very... pleasant woman."

"Was she horrible to you?"

Sunghoon laughed. "Definitely not. She was just indifferent. She told me that's how the world was. 'How many people cared about your parents dying, Sunghoon?' That kind of thing. But it doesn't matter much now. I know she loved me and my sister, no matter how she showed it. She left almost all of her inheritance to us."

Sunoo was deep in thought after this. Sunghoon could see that. Before he could ask a question about it, Sunoo himself gave him the answer.

"My uncle was the one who took me in after the accident. I was a year away from being an adult. But he adored me and wanted to take care of me. He encouraged me to apply for a classical music academy instead of a normal university. He didn't want me to struggle juggling academics and music."

Sunghoon felt a very vague memory invading his mind. Where had he heard of this before?

"It just didn't work out, though," Sunoo continued. "The academy, I mean. The day I stepped into it, I forgot what music was. It seemed like a chore. It seemed like the black and white keys I saw everyday were driving me insane. I knew that wasn't the place for me. So I left."

"You became even more famous after that, I think."

Sunoo nodded. "My love for music was reignited after I left and started working on music by myself. I used to bend the pieces I practiced to fit this Sunshine image I had created for myself. It's hard, you know. The piano doesn't allow that."

"But you can allow yourself that."

Sunoo smiled as he turned his head towards Sunghoon. "Hoonie hyung."

"Hmm?"

"Let's give our best tomorrow. Promise?"

Sunghoon's eyes betrayed every single emotion he was feeling. It was all out in the open in its naked and vulnerable form. He knew Sunoo could see that.

And he could see Sunoo's too.

"Promise."

On the final day of the concerto, Sunghoon assessed his appearance in the mirror one final time. In the green room where he paced around nervously, a pale-faced Jay sat on the chair, slightly stiff, but focused on an article on his phone.

“Jay-ah,” Sunghoon said with a worried expression on his face, “are you sure you’re okay?”

“Of course,” Jay replied without missing a beat. Well, at least his voice sounded healthy. 

“Is it like that prolonged spell of body weakness you had when we were 19?” Sunghoon asked.

“Well,” Jay said, “I was 19. You were 18. You’re way younger than me, Sunghoon. You should be calling me hyung.”

“Not this again,” Sunghoon rolled his eyes.

Jay laughed. Sunghoon found the laughter a little strange. But he decided not to comment.

“Sunghoon,” Jay said. His tone was serious now. 

Sunghoon stood in front of him now. “Yeah?”

“Don’t worry.”

“About what?”

“The concerto. I know you’ll do well.”

“How do you know that?”

Jay smiled.

“Because you have Sunoo up there with you.”

Kim Sunoo’s story came to Sunghoon in parts. His family passing away, his brief stint at the classical music academy, his eventual leaving of the academy to forge his own path and all the fame and patrons that came with the same- Sunghoon was privy to it all now.

The bow of Sunghoon’s cello rested on the strings after the welcoming applause died down. It did, indeed, look like the collaboration of the century. They were given the largest hall, and the audience present certainly belonged to the cream of society. 

As Sunghoon and Sunoo finally played the first note of the Cantabile, Sunghoon thought of his own past. Last night, he had almost recited it in whispers to Sunoo as they sat on a park bench which seemed to be in the middle of nowhere.

Being an orphan and raised by a woman who barely gave him much attention, Sunghoon had learned to navigate the world through an indifference that was well known only to adults of the world. He had trudged through life as a creature of no importance. He was an insignificant speck. He was a mere particle in the vast universe.

But Sunoo coming into his life had taught him how every single particle made up this universe, how every single person was integral to the existence and working of the world they lived in. He was precious, and so was Sunoo, and so was Jay, and so was every single person in the hall and the world. His melodies were precious, his emotions and thoughts mattered, and magic was possible because he was alive. 

The piece went on, taking a new shape in the new harmony that was forged. The waves had aligned. The eclipse had arrived.

And it would never end.

Sunoo took in a deep breath before his fingers tapped on the first key. The dawn of the whole was here. He was sure of it. He smiled to himself. Would Sunghoon be feeling the same?

Sunoo gave a brief glance to the audience. They were already in awe of the harmonious first note. Sunoo knew they’d just impressed them more.

He was free. Sunoo was free. So was Sunghoon. He could rest now, knowing that he would always find acceptance of him as a whole with Sunghoon.

Love had reignited in his heart in just thirty days. Beauty had revealed itself in its true and real form. It wasn’t just sunshines and cotton candies and fields of sunflower. It was also the gray clouds that produced rain, it was also the withering flower, it was also the tears. Humanity was all at once. It was a synthesis of everything that made him and Sunghoon more human.

He and Sunghoon, too, had forged their own synthesis.

The cello and the piano met in the middle, reproducing notes so harmonious that the world couldn’t separate them anymore.

Sunoo was wrong, after all. It wasn’t that the war was around the corner, but a synthesis he had long desired. The war was over. They had pieces to collect, but they weren’t alone anymore.

The piece ended. Sunoo breathed hard. He immediately turned around to look at his other half.

Sunghoon was smiling at him. It was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

The crowd, after a beat of silence, erupted into the loudest and longest applause he had ever received in his life.

Sunoo walked over and interlocked his fingers with Sunghoon. He returned the smile he had been so generously given and bowed to the audience.

The show was over. But the harmony had just begun. 

Drunk on red wine, multiple offers of double concertos around the world as a duo, and the success of today’s show, Sunghoon and Sunoo stumbled to Sunghoon’s home with giggles and fingers still interlocked.

“Hyung,” Sunoo whined with humor in his voice. “Sunghoon-ie hyung, do you even have the keys?”

Sunghoon laughed heartily. “Yes, my pretty Sunoo. I just have to find them.”

Sunoo laughed too.

Sunghoon’s fumbling for the keys was turning out to be a useless endeavor.

So Sunoo decided to kiss him instead.

On the cheek, of course.

Sunghoon’s movements halted as he stared wide eyed at Sunoo, who could only giggle and call him cute.

In a matter of seconds, his back was against the (still) closed door, and he was being kissed with an intensity he hadn’t ever experienced. It was messy, not like the first kiss he had always thought he would have.

But that was the beauty of it, isn’t it? He did not have to force himself to ride rainbows anymore. He was in love with a cloud. And the cloud might kiss messily and sloppily while drunk, but Sunoo would never want to be kissed otherwise.

They burst into laughter again as their lips separated.

“Sunoo-yah,” Sunghoon said as his fingers came to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear.

“Mm-hmm?”

“Whatever I play on the cello now would always feel incomplete without your piano.”

Sunoo gasped. Sunghoon laughed at his reaction and laid a soft kiss on his lips again.

“Be a permanent duo with me, Sunoo?” Sunghoon asked with slight hesitation in his voice.

Sunoo could only tear up in reply as he hugged Sunghoon.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes. I want to be whole with you.”

“Jay-ah,” Sunghoon said in exasperation and concern as he clutched the phone to his ear, “why did you just leave after the concert? Where are you?”

Sunghoon stood in the balcony of his bedroom in the early morning while Sunoo was still asleep in his bed.

“I’m boarding a plane tonight,” Jay replied placidly.

“Excuse me?” Sunghoon asked in shock.

Jay chuckled. Sunghoon noticed it sounded weak. “I’ll be back soon.”

“You’re sick these days, Jongseong. Where are you going?”

“Southern France. I have some work to complete.”

Sunghoon sighed as his fingers came to rub his temple. “And here I thought you were chasing after that cute Australian guy yesterday. This is why I didn’t even call you when I found the house locked.”

He could hear Jay smiling from the other side. “Oh, he was definitely cute. But I have more… important tasks to complete, Sunghoon. You’ll know soon.”

“Well, then, can we at least have lunch? I have something to tell you.”

“Sure. Let’s meet at our usual place.”

“Let me guess. You and Sunoo are a duo now,” Jay said as soon as Sunghoon took a seat opposite him.

Sunghoon looked at him with his jaw agape. Jay was clearly feeling much colder today. Although they sat inside instead of their usual spot in the bright sunshine, Jay was dressed in heavy layers. It looked strange, but Sunghoon didn’t mind it. Jay had had prolonged spells of illness for some time now.

“What? It was obvious you wanted to be a duo with him,” Jay reasoned. “And there was also that part about your double concerto racking up an insane amount of attention in the classical music world.”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon replied sheepishly. “Sunoo agreed. We’re a duo now.”

For the first time since Jay’s illness had begun again, Sunghoon saw color on his face. Jay was smiling brightly.

“I’m so glad for you,” Jay said with the most sincere expression Sunghoon had ever seen on him.

“Thanks,” he replied shyly.

“I have something to tell you, Sunghoon,” Jay said without any prior preparation.

“Go ahead,” Sunghoon said as his fork dug into the steak.

“We’ve been friends for eight years now-”

“You sound like you’re making a marriage proposal.”

Jay made a disgusted face, eliciting hearty laughter from Sunghoon.

“Just… listen, okay?” Jay said with slight frustration. But Sunghoon knew there was humor hidden underneath.

“Okay, yeah. I can do that.”

“I might not return from France,” Jay announced finally.

Sunghoon creased his forehead in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Jay took his time replying. He first chewed his piece of steak (Sunghoon noticed how small of a bite he took), dabbed the napkin on his mouth and then launched into an explanation.

Which was a single sentence.

“I’d like to move to southern France now.”

“Why?”

“It’s beautiful. It’s peaceful. The villages there are quiet. The cats there are cute. I can adopt one of them.”

Sunghoon felt shock. And slight betrayal.

“What prompted this?” He asked.

Jay sighed. “Soul searching, I guess. I asked myself what it is that I truly want from my life right now. And what I want more than anything is peace.”

Sunghoon did not reply. His food threatened to go cold. But he had other things to worry about.

“Sunghoon-ah,” Jay called out. It was after a long time that Sunghoon had heard his name being called out so lovingly from Jay’s lips. “I love you. You know that, right?”

Sunghoon frowned more and pouted. “Do you really? You wouldn’t just leave me if you really did love me.”

Jay smiled. “But you have Sunoo now.”

“So? I want both of you here.”

Jay chuckled. “Don’t be a child, Hoon. In spirit, I’ll always be with you, right?”

Sunghoon groaned. Jay laughed more.

“You’ll be fine without me.”

Sunghoon pouted more as his eyes flitted towards the window they were sat beside. The sunshine and the clouds were engaging themselves in an interesting tango, just like he and Sunoo would.

He was overthinking this. Jay would be fine. He’ll meet Jay again. That’s what Sunoo would tell him too.

“Jay-ssi,” Sunoo called out shyly as he saw Jay and Sunghoon lugging Jay’s suitcase out of the car trunk on the airport. “You won’t be returning now?”

“No. Sorry,” Jay said sadly. Sunghoon wanted to pout again. So Sunoo gets the soft Jay treatment but he can’t? “And you can call me Jay hyung, Sunoo-yah.”

Wow! The betrayal!

Sunghoon, nevertheless, couldn’t help smiling.

“Okay!” Sunoo replied cheerfully.

Jay finally turned towards Sunghoon. “Well…”

“This is it,” Sunghoon said.

“This is… it. Yeah,” Jay nodded.

And immediately pulled Sunghoon into a hug. 

Sunghoon wasn’t sure what to do with his hands really. He hadn’t hugged Jay in so long. But he eventually decided to pat Jay on the back- quite awkwardly.

“I love you, Sunghoon. Always remember that.”

Sunghoon felt a pang in his heart. “Of course I will,” he said as his arms came to wrap around Jay’s back more tightly. 

This was his best friend. How could he ever forget he was loved by him?

“I- I love you too,” he added immediately.

“Hmm. I know you do,” Jay said as he pulled apart. Sunghoon could see his eyes watering. But Jay immediately pushed back whatever tears there were. “Make sure to take care of Sunoo and yourself. Don’t be too obsessed with the cello. Adopt the dog you’ve always wanted to adopt. And don’t hesitate to propose to Sunoo when you have to.”

Sunghoon blushed at the last comment. “Don’t embarrass me!”

He could hear laughter from both Sunoo and Jay now.

“Sunoo-ya,” Jay said as he turned around. Sunoo was, as always, smiling. “Make sure to take care of this idiot. He means a lot to me. And never forget you’re my family too now.”

Sunoo, too, gave a quick hug to Jay. “Okay! Take care, Jay hyung.”

Jay gave a final look to Sunghoon. His eyes spoke a multitude of emotions. But Sunghoon knew Jay did not want him to decipher it. Yet.

“Goodbye, Sunghoon. I’ll write to you.”

A certain sinking feeling now invaded Sunghoon’s heart. But he decided to ignore it. It’s just Southern France. Jay wasn’t ascending to a different plane. 

And yet, the bags under Jay’s eyes…

“Goodbye, Jay.”

Dear Sunghoon (and Sunoo),

By the time you read this, I would have exited this world for another world. Or not. I’m not even sure if it exists. But being close to death makes you believe in the little empirical evidence we have that proves the existence of a transcendental world. 

We were 19, Sunghoon. We were sitting in Professor Kim’s class. Do you remember? I was complaining of body weakness. You were talking shit about Hegel to cheer me up. Professor Kim walked in, seemingly very elated. Before anyone could even enquire, he launched into an explanation for why. His nephew, Kim Sunoo, had received admission into a prestigious classical music academy. 

My interest in classical music made me look into him. After all, Professor Kim talked highly of him. He was rising fast in this world. He had this image for himself- he was like sunshine, bright and untouchable. He was loveable, beautiful and brought joy to everyone. In the classical music world, joy is not a very common emotion. It’s a competitive world for the musicians. Even the listeners are well aware of this, no matter how many joyful melodies musicians craft.

You could say I became a little… obsessed. Exceptions always interest me. You fit like a perfect puzzle piece into this world, you see. You were gloom and indifference personified. You were the gray clouds. If there’s anything this world loves, it’s musicians like you. So I was bound to become interested in exceptions- they were your antithesis, after all. But as I did my research into Kim Sunoo, it striked me as a strange fact that he had an unexpectedly difficult life. Just two years before getting into the academy, he had lost his entire family in a car accident. It didn’t make sense how he could keep up with the image he had built for himself- remarkably in these two years itself. 

The more I observed him, the more I went to his solo concertos, the more I realized Kim Sunoo was chaining a part of himself. It’s true, Sunghoon. He is the sunshine personified. But no one can hold on to just one aspect of themselves. He felt lost, tired in the wave of never ending appearances of brightness. When I interviewed him, this became even more apparent.

In my eyes, opposites do not necessarily attract. It seemed impractical. But you and Sunoo seemed like a match made in heaven- even to a stoic atheist like me. You had an opposite problem, after all. You were chained to the appearance of gloom. You genuinely believed life was a simple cycle of living, eating and dying. There was magic around you, Sunghoon. But your chains didn’t allow you to see them.

I brought Kim Sunoo into your life through an “anonymous” letter- to allow you to see that magic. To free you from what bound you. In this attempt, I expected Sunoo to free himself. At least, I wanted him to become a bird who could be out of its cage for a few hours. 

Instead, I believe I started a cycle of something far greater. Sunoo became the magic in your life, and you in his, Sunghoon. I expected the thesis to learn from the antithesis. I expected the antithesis to learn from the thesis. But the antithesis and thesis, instead, both left their shells behind to create a greater synthesis.

It’s a thinly veiled secret that I love you dearly. I can say it now, partially because I wouldn’t prefer a dead man’s ghost disturbing you about this fact. You have always been special to me, Sunghoon. You were the first person in my life who encouraged me to do something I truly wanted to. Even after the diagnosis of my illness, I did not lose faith. I wanted to live a fulfilling life. And I did just that.

But the greatest goal of my life- to see magic once- seemed impossible. You and Sunoo made even that possible. Not only did you both complete each other, you also completed me.

Forgive me for leaving like I did. Death and illness is painful, Sunghoon. But it remains more painful to the ones who are left behind. I did not ever consider myself a burden on you. I still don’t. That would be demeaning towards you, after all. You’ve shown me immense care and love in various forms. But death is something I want to face alone. I know no apology can ever make up for it. But I did not wish to see my loved ones in pain in my final moments. I have made the most beautiful memories with you. That will forever stay with me and my soul. But our journey had to end.

I did not wish to leave you alone, though. The time-bomb was ticking. Death would have come to me soon. It will, indeed. I believe I only have a few days left. Maybe just two. Maybe seven. But even my doctors don’t believe I have more than that. My heart told me the Sunshine Pianist was the only one who could accompany you for long. This is why I decided to bring him into your life. Cherish each other, Sunghoon. This would be the last thing I want to wish from both of you.

Today, I have the beautiful sea in front of me. “From water we come, to water we return.” Isn’t that what your grandmother used to say? I’ll return to the water early, Sunghoon. One day, unfortunately, I know you and Sunoo would have to follow. But I hope you return whole. I hope you both return to it together.

Love,

Jongseong,

from the water.