Chapter Text
散去的時候 - deca joins
The first thing Suho heard when he woke up was the sound of birds singing outside his window. Then, everything else. The beeping machines, the gasp of his nurse, and the rush of doctors to his side.
But before all that, it was the birds. Suho wasn’t awake for long that first time, but he wondered distantly as he fell asleep again; why didn’t humans sing to each other like that? Song instead of word.
The next time he woke, someone different was by his bedside. Suho’s mind churned, trying to put a name to the presence beside him.
“Sieun,” he says.
Sieun doesn’t stir, probably asleep, his head buried in the thin sheets of the hospital bed. Suho listens hard, and hears the tinny sound of Sieun’s music through his earbuds. It was jovial, inspiring, despite the tiredness that seems to weigh heavy on Sieun’s shoulders.
Suho falls back into sleep, melodies weaving together in his head like golden thread.
Suho wakes again, eyes fluttering against the gentle sunlight streaming into the room. This time, Sieun is awake, eyes wide as he realizes Suho’s wakefulness.
“Suho…” he whispers, as if afraid that speaking too loud would take the moment away from him.
And Sieun’s voice, too, was like a gentle song to Suho’s ears. Everything was like music. Suho was sure he’d never felt this way before. He had never likened the sounds of the world to one big song. But now, it was natural, just right.
It takes Suho a few months and many gruelling PT sessions to be discharged, and while it was harder than anything he’s ever done before, it was made tolerable by two things. Sieun, and music.
There was rarely a moment when music wasn’t playing in Suho’s hospital room. Whether it be gentle R&B, energetic rock, or soulful ballads. Suho doubts there’s a single genre he didn’t listen to.
In his darkest moments, there was always a song to cheer him up.
Before the coma, Suho had never been a big listener of music. Sure, he had a few songs he loved, his karaoke go-tos, and earworms from the radio. But he had never understood the type of people who couldn’t go a minute without music. Now he did. Now, music spoke to him, like a second language that he’s suddenly fluent in.
Now that he’s basically fully recovered, his earphones don’t leave his ears. Lately, he’s been into the acoustic sound. Just the instrument and the artist. It’s raw, comes from the heart.
His heart sings, too. It’s like his life has changed. He has so much to live for. So much to love. His grandma, life, Sieun . All of it. Suho was bursting out the seams with love. So much he didn’t know what to do with it.
Sieun barely ever leaves his side now. While Suho’s memory is kind of patchy, he does remember all the things that went wrong whenever one of them escaped the others grasp. So maybe it was good, that Sieun kept himself by Suho’s side.
But he does get alone time. The doctors said it’s a good way to clear his head and sort his thoughts out after being coddled at the hospital for so long. And Suho appreciates the solitude.
The music in his ears is calm and smooth today. Like tiny ripples in water. He takes a detour from his normal route, and ends up in a little alley lined with all sorts of niche looking storefronts. Nothing catches his eye until he spots something.
A music shop. There were planters outside, the foliage growing in them only just starting to bloom with the warmth of spring. A gentle melody plays from inside, audible because the door is held ajar. Suho feels something deep inside him, pulling him forward, one foot in front of the other until he’s inside.
A man who seems old enough to be Suho’s father stands at a table with his back to the boy, tinkering with what seems to be an older (but very pretty) looking guitar. He doesn’t notice Suho walking in, and Suho just stands there, eyes roaming the store, filled with various instruments. Mostly guitars. Acoustic, electric, bass. But there were drum kits on display as well. Some electric keyboards and a gorgeous piano that seems like it’s not for sale.
After a moment, the man seems to realize someone else is there. He turns to face Suho, nodding to acknowledge him.
“Looking for something?” he asks.
Suho just shakes his head. “I don’t know why I walked in,” he says truthfully. “I’ve never played an instrument in my life.”
That puts a smile on the man’s face. “Well, maybe you should start,” he says.
Suho’s eyes trail the wall of guitars. Would Sieun be impressed if he learned? He can’t help but think it. The other boy would certainly be happy Suho was playing music instead of getting beat half to death, that’s for sure.
He looks back at the man sheepishly. “Well, I’m kinda broke…” he murmurs.
“You don’t need money to learn, son. Just your heart, hands, and ears.” the shop owner smiles.
And just like that, Suho is sat with the warm man and a warmer cup of coffee. He’s not usually a fan of the stuff, preferring to fry his senses with energy drinks instead. But this was good joe, he had to admit.
The shop owner, who introduced himself to Suho as Mr. Choi, took out his guitar and started playing whatever. It looks well loved, and it somehow sounds like home.
Suho watches intently as Mr. Choi’s hand flies across the fretboard, how he strums the guitar so easily and how the sounds it makes are so intentional. He doubts he could ever play guitar like this. Mr. Choi was clearly a master among men.
When he’s done, Mr. Choi offers Suho the guitar.
“What? Me?” Suho asks, bewildered. Mr. Choi nods and hesitantly takes the instrument.
The man just looks at him, eyes smiling. He’s expecting something. Should Suho just start playing? He doesn’t know any chords. Heck, he barely knows where to put his hands. He’d ask for help, but something tells him he’s not supposed to.
Tentatively, he presses his fingers in between the frets and strums the guitar. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t sound pretty. Suho grimaces and looks up at Mr. Choi.
“Well?” the man asks, “How did you feel?”
Suho thinks. How did he feel? Playing the guitar… “I guess I felt excited,” he says, “I was happy to try, even if it didn’t sound the best?”
Mr. Choi smiles. “That’s it. When you play, as long as you keep that feeling alive, that happiness… that’s worth more than anything else.”
Suho makes a face. “Worth more than actually knowing how to play?”
Mr. Choi laughs. “Definitely. Anyone can learn chords, can’t they? But not everyone can feel the guitar, feel the music, play the instrument like it’s an extension of themselves.”
Huh. Suho had never thought of it like that before. He’d never imagined that a guitar, wood and strings, could ever be a part of him. But it made sense.
“So, son. Do you wanna learn the guitar?”
Suho can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He’s giddy with excitement, overflowing with it.