Chapter Text
Hong Mingi is a musician with a reputation. Hyeokgyu had read about him in his classes when he was in high school - the world-class violinist was, at the time, performing in concert halls around the world as a result of placing 2nd in the Indianapolis Violin Competition.[1] After those few years, he settled back in Korea, pioneered a distinctive, modern, and successful Korean school of violin playing with his pedagogy style, and became one of the most-wanted violin teachers in the nation.
He’s not very sure as to why Professor Hong picked him out of all of the potential candidates vying for the lone DMA spot in the prestigious Laureate Conservatory of Korea, but he’ll take what he can get.
“I’ll send you a copy of the studio assignments later today,” Professor Hong pushes his square glasses further up his face as he hands Hyeokgyu a set of keys. “This key is a spare for my office, in case you need anything. These two keys are for the small recital halls. Oh, and you’ll have to communicate with your assigned students for scheduling lessons - I’ll show you how I organize and plan those another day.”
Hyeokgyu weighs the ring of keys in his hand before clipping it to the inside of his backpack, already partially filled with binders of sheet music and etude books. Kreutzer’s[2] name taunts him as he zips his bag closed again.
“Let me think… was there anything else…” Professor Hong claps his hands together. “Oh! Right, there’s a gathering on Wednesday for the graduate students. You should go - it’s a good way to get to know people before the year starts. There’s a couple of new Master’s students and one new DMA for the piano division, so I’d definitely recommend meeting them.”
“Alright,” Hyeokgyu finds himself saying, even though he really doesn’t want to go, “could you send me the location and time? I’ll go if I can.” Much better to get the socializing out of the way first, he thinks to himself as Professor Hong scribbles some details on a sticky note. These connections might be worth their weight in gold.
If it’s an awkward, lost cause, he’ll just leave halfway through with some excuse that no one would be able to call him out on. It’s a decent plan, and he’ll probably get free food, so it can’t be that bad. Just remember, they’re all scared little nerds just like you, a voice - one that sounds suspiciously like Seungbin - in his head says, somewhat amused at his elaborate planning.
Hyeokgyu sighs. He really does miss Seungbin.
Professor Hong glances at him from his desk as he organizes the things he needs to bring home. “Everything alright, Hyeokgyu?”
“Mm, yeah,” Hyeokgyu absentmindedly hums, mind wandering off to the last performance he’d seen from his older friend.
“You know, you can go home now,” the professor smiles kindly as he shuffles a stack of orchestral audition forms. “School hasn’t even started yet and you’re only here for logistics. No need to wait for me to be done.”
He hesitates, still hovering near the door, and finally accedes when Professor Hong makes the motion of shooing him out - he doesn’t need to be told thrice. “Thank you,” he slightly bows, ducking his head towards Professor Hong. “I’ll email you if I have any questions.”
—
Originally, Hyeokgyu’s musical career starts like all younger siblings’ careers do: because of his older brother, who starts playing piano when Hyeokgyu is only 4 or 5. Even though his brother is a few years older than him, their mother convinces Hyeokgyu to start playing violin right away, because -
“Think of the duets you could do with your brother,” she reasons with him, gently pointing at some video on the TV. “Wouldn’t that be fun to try, Hyeokgyu-ah?”
She’s right. It’s fun to try picking up the tiny instrument and learning how to pluck the strings and make different notes by pressing down his fingers. It’s even more fun when he shows off to his mother, who happily claps for him when he plucks Twinkle Twinkle Little Star for the first time. Ilgyu scoffs at him when he excitedly shows him too, but begrudgingly plays some simple accompaniment on the piano that fits well with his melody.
When he grows older, his brother stops playing piano, much to his mother’s dismay - she can’t brag about her talented, prodigious sons making music together to her extensive network of middle-aged Korean mothers - but she neither nods nor shakes her head in disapproval when Hyeokgyu hesitantly asks her if he should still play violin.
“Hyung said that playing games with his friends is more fun,” he says, shifting from side to side as he brings the matter up to her, his face downcast. “And I don’t have many friends who play instruments either, they all want to play football or Maplestory together.” He… also doesn’t have many friends in general, but he chooses not to mention that.
“Well, Hyeokgyu-ah,” she says, cupping his face as she squats down to his eye level and tilting his head so their gazes meet, “do you have fun playing violin?”
Hyeokgyu vigorously nods. “The most! I’m not great at football, so I don’t like it. And Maplestory is fun, but not as fun as violin. I don’t get what hyung thinks.”
“Well, that’s because you and Ilgyu-ah are two different people,” she laughs, letting go and standing back up, beaming as he looks up at her. “It’s okay that you think differently from him. You like playing violin, so keep on playing, no matter what your brother or your friends say.[3] Eventually, you might be able to make friends who play violin too.”
Naturally, he digs deeper and deeper as the years go by, pestering his private teacher about things to study and recordings to watch. While he becomes a good violinist, at least for his age, even more impressive is his work ethic - he learns and experiments with practicing efficiently, uses his extra time after school to look up recordings, and scribbles down comments and comparisons in his binder, stuffed to the brim with lesson sheets, sheet music, and notes.
Faced with this daunting, unnatural commitment in a young kid, his local private teacher talks to him one day.
“Hyeokgyu-ah, it’s never too early to think about a career in music,” she says, placing a paper down with scrawled names and numbers. “You’re a very good violinist, so ask your mother to try and reach out to these people. They’ll be able to help you progress much better than I will - they are tough teachers, but incredibly knowledgeable. Either way, you’re dedicated and work hard, so they’ll be pleased with you.”
He ends up studying with an older man - most definitely stricter than his sweet local violin teacher - who scowls at him with a meaner, heavy-set face, but is still a teacher who nods thoughtfully whenever he plays through what he’s worked on.
“We will be having a studio recital next month,” the man gruffly informs him one day, handing him a sheet of paper with details. “Since we have been preparing your Mozart, which is in very good shape, you will perform that concerto. For two lessons, you will play with a pianist that I have hired, and more details about the recital are on the paper.” He pauses, softening a bit as he places a hand on Hyeokgyu’s shoulder. “There will be refreshments afterward. I expect for you to feast on sweets there because your arms are thin like a plucked bird. It will be good for your tone.”
And so, in his first-ever recital, he shows up in a spiffy white button-up as indicated by the formal dress code and plays his Mozart concerto[4] for a crowd of parents, fellow students, and what seems to be a few of their friends. He performs somewhere in the middle of the lineup, despite clearly being younger than most of the other students, since he’s only in middle school and most of the studio seems like they’re in high school.
Hyeokgyu stays for the after-party refreshments, but he doesn’t know anyone else, so he sticks close to his mother and nibbles on some of the crackers - not sweets - while the older students talk and make fun.
One young boy bounces over to him and holds out his hand. “You’re Kim Hyeokgyu,” he announces, expectantly looking at him. “I saw your name on the program.”
“And you’re…” Hyeokgyu trails off, trying to think back to the cream-colored piece of paper as he shakes his hand. “Gu Seungbin…? The person that played the other Mozart concerto.”
Seungbin grins. “The one and only.” He plops down on the couch next to him, swinging his legs without a care - his feet don’t even reach the floor.
His mother, visibly relieved that he’s not being entirely antisocial, takes this as a cue to finally socialize with the other parents. “Hyeokgyu,” she pats his shoulder, “I’ll be over there if you need me, alright?”
Hyeokgyu wordlessly nods.
Once she’s out of earshot, Seungbin turns to him. “Okay. I don’t want to talk to the high schoolers because they just pinch my cheeks and don’t listen to me. They probably wouldn’t pinch your cheeks - because you don’t have any - but you should be my friend instead of their friend because we’re the only middle schoolers here.”
“Okay.” Hyeokgyu stares down at his handful of crackers and offers one to Seungbin, who happily takes it.
“I’m in Year 3.” Seungbin primly informs him, puffing out his chest as if that’s something to be proud of.
He doesn’t mean to sound incredulous, but… “Really?”
Seungbin waves him off, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, shut up. What about you?”
“I’m… in Year 2.”
“So I’m your hyung then.” Seungbin shimmies slightly closer on the couch, clacking his oversized dress shoes against each other. “Be honest. What did you think of my playing? I know I was way too sloppy on the 3rd movement, especially with the ornaments, since I ran out of stamina.” Hyeokgyu believes him, because, well, he looks like he’s 10 instead of 13. “But do you have anything else?”
“Um. Your technique was very good. But you weren’t always in sync with the pianist.”
Seungbin nods, face thoughtful. “That makes sense. I’ve got some critiques for you, too.” With no hesitance in waiting for Hyeokgyu to respond, he launches into a spiel, talking animatedly with his hands. “You have a good musical sense, like your phrasing is great, and you’re a very efficient player. But you just stand around when you’re not playing, and it’s annoying because it’s a nice and fun piece but you look miserable and you’re not feeling the accompaniment at all. Also, your arpeggios at the beginning sucked, which - fine, be nervous, but don’t let that affect the measures right after it. They’re easy.”
Seungbin takes a big breath.
“You recovered well on mistakes but you wouldn’t need to if you didn’t mess up in the first place, you know?”
“Yeah,” Hyeokgyu nods, slightly wounded but also slightly awed by his analysis and the fact that he remembered that much about his performance. “Thank you.”
Seungbin squints at him. “You don’t talk much, huh,” he comments, his gaze suddenly a bit too piercing for the chubby-cheeked kid that he is. Hyeokgyu flushes a bit, but the other violinist just shrugs. “Oh well, fine by me. I like to talk a lot anyway. Hey, you have an email, right?”
—
from: [email protected]
subject: yo
hi hyeokgyu this is seungbin. you definitely havent forgotten about me because i’m that fabulous and awesome but in case you dont remember im that violinist from mr kang’s recital
your email name’s definitely memorable, don’t know about “fabulous” or “awesome” though
from: [email protected]
it’s my gamer tag, you wouldn’t get it
anyways, dude, there’s this new prodigy violinist[5] overseas, check this out
—
Hyeokgyu throws on a simple cardigan over his customary white shirt and dark pants - he has to attempt at least some style if he doesn’t want to look like a raggedy mess - and immediately regrets it when the cold wind buffets his face as he treks to the graduate student gathering. It’s in a rented-out local restaurant, a small one owned by a halmeoni who still recognizes him when he shows up, and the bells tied to the door handle merrily announce his arrival.
He’s decently early: Professor Kim, one of the tenured chamber coaches,[6] waves at him as he pushes some tables together, and the halmeoni excitedly greets him as she totters away from the kitchen for a second, but no one else has shown up.
He checks his watch. 11:45 - a whole 15 minutes early. No wonder. He might as well help them set up, then.
“Ah, no, no,” Professor Kim waves him off as he approaches. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need help. Really-” he effortlessly swoops in, taking the chair that Hyeokgyu was struggling to budge and lifting it with one arm. “Ah, let me do it, you need to take care of your hands anyway.”
“Well, if he doesn’t want your help, I sure do!” The halmeoni crows from behind the kitchen counter as she aggressively stirs a pan, the fragrant smell of meat wafting through the restaurant. “I know you haven’t forgotten where things are, boy, so better put those years of work here to use!”
She’s right and she absolutely knows it, judging by the way she grins at Hyeokgyu as he restocks silverware and napkins on autopilot, the process hardwired into his brain from years of working part-time at the restaurant in undergrad.
“Look at you,” she coos, patting him on the back after he refills the small water station. “Such a hard worker - none of my current part-timers compare to you. Although, they would have asked to help me first, before your professor. I’m an old woman!”
“Ah, halmeoni,” Hyeokgyu sheepishly waves her off, trying to save face, “you look so young that I forget you’re older than him.”
She rolls her eyes but lets him go, appeased for now. “You’ve never changed. What a suck-up,” she gabs, pushing him out of the kitchen. “Go. Sit near the door and look pretty while everyone else shows up. Heavens knows we need a cute young man like you again as promotional material.”
So, he takes the usual seat near the door, deliberately positioned so that the people passing by the restaurant get a glimpse of him. Within a minute or two, a group of girls pass by the restaurant and do a double take after seeing him, slowing down to pause and read the sign on the restaurant that says RESERVED.
“-h my god, he’s so cute! I need to search for this restaurant on Naver ASAP. It’s gotta be good.” One of the girls whips out her phone. For a brief second, Hyeokgyu makes the mistake of glancing at her, making eye contact - and immediately winces as she fumbles with her phone and barely manages to save it from the cold hard pavement. “Guys, I think he just looked at me! Oh, what do I do, what do I do…” she frets, burying her face in her hands. Her friends console her and the pack moves on from the restaurant.
“You used to work here?” Professor Kim sits in the booth next to Hyeokgyu, having finished the heavy lifting required of him. Behind him, a large rice cooker puffs out steam next to big bowls of meat and side dishes.
“I did, back in my undergrad days - so about three or four years ago?” Hyeokgyu frowns as he does the math, fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on the table. “I needed a more stable source of income on top of the usual wedding and conducting gigs.”[7]
Professor Kim looks impressed, eyes lighting up. “Wow, really?” he says, completely genuine. “That’s a lot to handle at once, especially with how much you must have worked to be as good as you are at violin. Oh, don’t give me that look,” he chuckles at Hyeokgyu’s furrowed expression. “Most professors keep an eye out on all of the top students, not just who we directly teach. You were good!” He’s much older and gentler than Hyeokgyu remembers, all worn-down lines and wrinkles instead of the fiery temper of the chamber coach notorious for his intense ensemble rehearsals.
The bells jingle on the door.
“Holy sh - cow,” Park Jinseong strolls into the restaurant, belatedly filtering out the curse word as he notices Professor Kim’s presence at the table. “Hyeokgyu-hyung, you’re back!”
His hair is a bright dirty blond color, a far cry from the undyed dark hair he sported last time Hyeokgyu saw him. “Yeah, I am,” he hums, accepting the small squeeze-hug that Jinseong bounces to his side for. “Are you getting your Masters?”
“Yep!” Jinseong beams, shaking the hair out of his eyes. “Violin performance, of course. I did briefly think about doing a string quartet or a music education degree… but I stuck with it in the end, though, because I still want to try for the big symphonies.”
That’s nice, Hyeokgyu thinks to himself, a bit wistful and a bit bitter. His recent fourth round of orchestral auditions[8] hadn’t gone well, but he’s not going to crush Jinseong’s dreams because of his pettiness.
“What about you, hyung? Didn’t you already finish your Masters?” Jinseong asks, unbothered by his lack of response - completely normal, according to Jinseong, who dubbed it one of his “Hyeokgyu-isms” when they were both in undergrad together.
“I’m here for my DMA,” Hyeokgyu admits. “studying with Professor Hong.”
Jinseong puts the puzzle pieces together in record time, delightedly jumping up from his seat. “Oh my god,” he points at Hyeokgyu, face filled with glee, “we’ll be in the same studio!”
“Sit back down,” Hyeokgyu gently reminds him, noticing how Professor Kim looks at them in confusion from across the room. “Yes, we’ll be in the same studio.”
“Like, Professor Hong mentioned we were getting a doctoral student,” Jinseong gushes, completely ignoring Hyeokgyu’s words but still sitting down anyway, “and I was a little worried because I had no idea who I’d be working with. Like, what if they think I’m loud, or weird, or-“
Hyeokgyu elects to not tell Jinseong that he is technically both loud and weird, because he was funny enough as an underclassman to where Hyeokgyu enjoyed his company: whether that remains the case, now, is something he’ll figure out later.
The door jingles again as a big group of people come in, arriving only three minutes before the official start of the event. Judging by Professor Kim’s resigned expression, it’s more or less expected, and Hyeokgyu understands - he’s seen far too many students sprinting to concerts with less than a minute to spare.
“Hey, it’s been a while.” It takes a second for Hyeokgyu to recognize the newcomer who sheepishly walks up to them, but it clicks almost immediately when he smiles.
“You’re doing your Masters as well?” He asks Wangho, watching as the man does his trademark half-grimace.
Wangho nods resignedly - or depressingly, at worst, Hyeokgyu’s mind supplies - as the cellist sighs. “Yeah. I’m on my second year. Hopefully, I’ll be done with my requirements next semester, so,” he shrugs, the fabric of his jacket making a swish sound with the motion, “only one year to go?”
He looks strangely timid, a stark contrast to the Wangho he had known in his undergraduate years - although, maybe that’s precisely why he’s timid, because Hyeokgyu’s senior year had been filled with witnessing Wangho’s weird cat-and-mouse chase relationship as one of the unfortunate students in the same friend group.
“One year to go,” Hyeokgyu echoes distantly, studying Wangho because something else about him feels off but he can’t figure out why.
“He looks so different, right?” Jinseong jumps back into the conversation, pointing at Wangho. “Like, I swear, I can’t tell if dyeing his hair black made him more depressed or if it just brought out whatever he had bottled inside.”
Hyeokgyu blinks. “Oh. You dyed your hair?”
“Yeah, he did. And I dyed my hair, too!” Jinseong chimes in, showcasing the newly blond strands of hair. “We kinda switched our hair colors, now that I think about it.”
Huh. So that’s what was different.
“Well actually, I dyed my hair first because I wanted to look like Byun Baekhyun from EXO.”[9] Jinseong continues, jabbing a finger towards himself. “Wangho’s just emo now because his old boyto-”
“Oh, shut it,” Wangho snaps, rolling his eyes; when he turns to Hyeokgyu, the expression on his face is sweet again. “The hair dye was annoying to maintain and I don’t want to go bald before I have my quarter-life crisis.”
For some reason, Hyeokgyu doesn’t feel inclined to believe him, what with Jinseong sing-songing something as he drapes himself over Wangho’s shoulders, but he ignores them in favor of watching Professor Kim as he clinks a spoon on a glass.
“Hey everyone,” he says once the room is quiet. “I’ve met most of you, but I’ll introduce myself just in case: I’m Professor Kim Jeonggyun, one of the chamber coaches here at the LCK. We’ll start with some simple introductions, just going around the room, and when it’s your turn, please say your name, degree and instrument, and something you got to do recently or hope to do in the future!”
It’s so cheesy - but so quintessentially Professor Kim - that Hyeokgyu can’t help but internally laugh.
“I’ll go first. Obviously, I’m Professor Kim, I used to play piano and a bit of cello, and recently, I got married.” A wave of cheers erupts as he announces it, a shy smile on his face. Someone yells “Show the ring!” and he flushes as he shows off his hand, a simple, polished wedding band adorning his ring finger.
The next person speaks up - “Hi, I’m Cho Geonhee…” - and the introductions continue, with some familiar faces: there’s Park Jaehyuk, the flutist finalist in the LCK’s yearly concerto competition in Hyeokgyu’s senior year, and he recognizes Kim Kwanghee as well, the bassist salaciously winking at him when they connect eyes.
When the introductions snake around to their corner of the room, Jinseong waves cheerfully. “Hi, I’m Jinseong! I’m in the first year of my master's in violin performance. Recently, I got to play Mahler 3[10] in a music festival, which was super dope.” People around the room jokingly groan at the last sentence: even Professor Kim joins in on the fun.
In stark contrast - “Wangho, second year, masters in cello performance. Hopefully, I graduate.” Wangho solemnly raises his hand, generating a loud wave of laughter.
Hyeokgyu fidgets as eyes fall on him. “Um, I’m Hyeokgyu. This will be my first year in the doctoral program for violin. I hope I survive…”
Jinseong immediately turns to him. “Dude, if that’s your hope, what hope do the rest of us have!?” The room spills into boisterous noise, waves of stifled snorts and giggles surging to a clamor of “Yeah!” and “Exactly!” and “Kim Hyeokgyu, you’re so hot!” - the last sentence yelled by none other than Kwanghee himself, of course.
As the introductions snake back to Professor Kim, Hyeokgyu keeps an eye out for any PhD or DMA students: unfortunately, he finds only a clarinetist seeking a PhD and no signs of the DMA pianist that Professor Hong had mentioned.
“Alright,” Professor Kim clasps his hands together. “Now that we’ve heard from everybody here, we can start with the real reason you came here - the food! Utensils are over there, the dishes are over here. Help yourselves.”
Halfway through the hustle and bustle, a new person slips in unannounced and beelines straight for Professor Kim.
“Wangho, Wangho, look,” Jinseong says, lightly shoving the cellist. “It’s him, he’s here.”
“Who’s here?” Hyeokgyu asks, craning his neck to try to see the face of the new person.
Wangho just sinks further into his seat with a sigh and a groan as Jinseong’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “It’s his boytoy, hyung,” he gestures to Wangho’s pitiful state with flair.
“My ex…boy…toy…” the cellist mumbles, covering his face in shame. Hyeokgyu freezes, mind spinning, because as far as he knows -
“Hey guys!” Professor Kim stands up, clinking his glass again. “We’ve got one more person joining us today! Introduce yourself!”
“Hello,” the person bows towards both sides of the restaurant, turning around to face the entrance. “Nice to meet you all. I’m sorry for getting here late, one of my private lessons went a little too long.”
A nondescript black jacket. Round glasses. A stare so piercing that it cuts right through you.
“I’m Lee Sanghyeok, the new DMA student for piano.”
Soft, fluffy, black hair. Round cheeks. A curved smile with scrunched-up eyes.
The best musician in his generation.
“In the future, I hope to be a piano professor.”
The air’s palpably different as they all respectfully clap for him and then return to whatever they were doing before, tension buzzing through the room as the graduate students converse over their meals.
Everyone knows who Lee Sanghyeok is - at least, everyone in the music world, and probably half of Korea to boot. He’s arguably the most successful musician of their generation, with recording deals lined up for years and fully booked concerts from Seoul to New York City to repeat performances in Vienna, a city famous for their refusal of anything but the best.
But nobody knows Lee Sanghyeok like Hyeokgyu does.
Nobody else knows his direct cruelty in crushing those around him, an unintended byproduct of simply knowing the musician born to be a star. Nobody else knows the tentative kindness Sanghyeok had extended, so desperate for human connection that he tried to befriend anyone who understood even a bit of the rawest parts of himself. Nobody else has experienced, firsthand, his selfish desire to go further, to be better, to go higher, despite already sitting alone at the top, and how it consumed those around him.
Even Wangho, with his past relationship-or-not-relationship shrouded in a mystery created by personal privacy - Hyeokgyu knows that he doesn’t fully understand Sanghyeok the way Hyeokgyu does, the way he wishes he never did, because Wangho had been close to Sanghyeok, and had been sucked into his orbit the way so many of Hyeokgyu’s friends had. As for Hyeokgyu, he was always opposite Sanghyeok, never coming close enough to bridge the infinitesimal gap between acquaintance and friend, for better or for worse.
Hyeokgyu makes the mistake of glancing towards the center of the room, where Sanghyeok stands, peering around the restaurant to try to find someone he knows well. When he spots Hyeokgyu, his eyes light up, and he makes his way to their table.
“Sorry, Wangho,” Hyeokgyu murmurs. “I think Sanghyeok’s sitting with us.”
Wangho slumps onto the table. “Kill me.”
“Can I sit here?” Sanghyeok doesn’t even question what Wangho’s doing, probably perfectly aware of what’s going through the cellist’s mind with the way he sheepishly holds his bowl of food.
“Holy shit, yes please,” Jinseong says, pointing at the empty space next to Hyeokgyu. “Dude. It’s an honor to meet you.”
Sanghyeok cracks a smile. “The pleasure’s all mine.” He shuffles into the booth next to Hyeokgyu, extending his hand after he places his food on the table. “Hyeokgyu, it’s been a while; I was happy to hear that you’re the other DMA student. I look forward to working with you for our time here in the LCK.”
And for the first time in seven years, Hyeokgyu crosses the gap and shakes his hand.