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It was a chilly night. Something about the snowy wind made you think that this night would be as precious as the holidays, yet it was only November.
You sighed as your gloved hands rested into your pockets. In thirty minutes, you had to be in your music class. You took the night shift because you had other responsibilities to focus on in the day—school, work, chores, whatever life brought you—but every night was a moment for a breeze of freedom, to guiltlessly be yourself.
The snow was utterly beautiful today. It was the second day of snow, after all. As you waited for the bus under the waiting shed, the lamp post filled the darkness with a golden light, contrasting the bright snow that descended from the skies. The trees that canopied the roads were already heavy with white, not to mention the grass as well. With every sigh you let out, there would be plumes of your breath that made this night even more serene.
In moments like these, you would pull out your earphones and listen to your favourite classical music, but you didn’t. You listened to nightingales singing along the soft hush of the wind, the sound of the wet asphalt crinkling when the snowflakes touched the ground, and your own steady breathing. You closed your eyes and let yourself become one with nature, that, until it was abruptly interrupted by the bus finally arriving.
You sighed again and got in.
—
“It’ll only take a few more minutes.”
“But I availed this specific schedule because this was the only time I’m available.” You argued. So much of your night was ruined when the concierge said that you’d have to wait until your turn for the class. Someone had taken your schedule last minute which was really unreasonable.
The concierge let out a condescending huff, not looking into your eyes as she twisted her chair to make a call from the telephone on the other side of her table. “Sir, Y/N is in the lobby right now, how much longer will it take?” You held your breath as the concierge averted her gaze to you, her ear on the telephone as her eyes widened for a fraction.
“Oh, okay, I’ll send him up.” You sighed a relief as the concierge put the phone down and said, “Don’t get your hopes up ‘cause you’re not going to be playing for a bit.” She scribbled your attendance in her booklet as she held out your admission slip.
Your brows furrowed, not taking the slip just yet. “Why not?”
The concierge looked tired. “Mister Sylus asked you to come up. You’ll be playing after the girl, but you’re gonna have to watch her first.” her voice bored just like her eyes.
“Who’s the girl?” You took the slip.
“I don’t know. Some Japanese expat. Her name is Yumi, or Yumei, whatever,”—with a waved hand—”don’t talk to me.” She closed the window, marking your conversation with her done and over. You were already used to her cold attitude so you went ahead and rode the elevator to the 18th floor.
The hallway to the auditorium was usually filled with the low hum of the air conditioner working, always silent with occasional murmurs only if you had arrived earlier than usual and Mister Sylus’ student before you was about to leave.
The grey painted walls were long with the typical muted blue carpets paving a path to the two offices flanking both sides ahead from the elevator you just got out of. Deep into the end of the hallway, you could take in the view of the cityscape with the walls being clear titanium glass. From there, a left turn and you’d reach the auditorium.
Nine-thirty in the evening meant that there were no more office workers around, save for the fact that even if there were, it would still be silent. Yet, just from the elevator, you could hear it—a melodious tune that smoothly shifted from one note to another. Violin , you thought, along with the idea that it might have been the sound system working. It sometimes played music (keyword: sometimes) but the sound would be muffled and terrible since the speaker was deteriorating regardless of the building staff’s efforts to fix it, but this…this sound was clear. It was far ahead to where you unconsciously let your foot lead the way.
Of course, it made it to the auditorium because where else would the sound have come from? The ephemeral tunes were still cloaked behind the wooden door, waiting for your twist to the knob so that it would engulf you in all of its beauty. Your breath hitched at its mellow timbre, your fingers frozen before it could close the gap with the doorknob. The music was too beautiful to interrupt.
So you waited a few more seconds until the playing painfully came to an end, the sound of an applause from Mister Sylus followed along before you finally opened the door to see him staring below to the small dimly lit podium. You were at the side of where his silver swept hair covered his eyes, but you knew he was proud when his lips stretched into a smile.
Despite not taking a look your way, he took notice of your arrival. “Good that you’re here, Y/N. Yumei, do another run, please.” He spoke into the microphone.
Mister Sylus had bought this auditorium for his own entertainment of teaching his students. He was quite a frivolous person, someone you’d think that wouldn’t have much interest in music, yet he was a good teacher, nonetheless if he played or not. You had never seen him play, actually. He was an entrepreneur with so many businesses running the town. This job for him was merely just his pastime.
The room you were both in was actually right above the auditorium, separated with tall glass windows. It was bright in this room with strong warm downlights spilling on every nook of darkness. Below, the seats were completely covered in darkness and the only light provided was the stage lights shining on the podium where a long raven-haired woman in a white, floor length dress with a bow in one hand and a violin in the other.
You wondered if she was an angel with the way her pale shoulders were exposed, her sleeves right below them looking like wings as they wrapped her arms down beautifully like translucent clouds that fell straight down to her hands like fishtails. You couldn’t make much of her countenance, but you could tell she was stunning from up here.
She lifted her head, looked up from the podium, and gave a small nod before she started again. The music filled the entire auditorium as her body followed the movement of her hands on her bow against the strings of her violin, like she was a skilled archer with musical notes for targets, effortlessly tackling them down; one by one. Her long dress swept the floor with every movement, her long hair flowing as if there was a breeze, sending you back to the bus stop where the snow fell beautifully. You could almost imagine it here, the snow feathering around her as the music progressed.
“She is my good friend’s cousin. Told her to come down and play for me,” Mister Sylus started, his voice low and contrasting the pitch of the violin. You felt slightly irritated at how well it coalesced, that or the fact that he could ask the lady to play for him anytime he’d fancy.
“The concierge says she’s a Japanese expat.” You responded.
He barked out a small laugh, afraid to drown out the melody. “Lots to expect from Rui to crack a joke.” He sighed, folding his arms together. “Well, she is from Japan. Yumei plays for [REDACTED], but does not hesitate to do solos when it comes to formal parties.” He says.
“Is that how you knew about her?” You asked. Yumei, down below, swiftly moved as the music started to build up its climax.
Mister Sylus hummed, “Not quite. I’ve known Yumei for a long time,” his lips pursed, a smile begging to take form. “I have always taken a liking to her artistry. I remember exactly the first time I heard her play.
“It was a dinner party that Ichi hosted during my trip to Japan; a welcome party. Knowing him, he was quite extravagant with his parties, calling it a party would be an understatement.” He sighed, the memories washed over him as a melancholic smile laid on his lips.
You watched Yumei as she trailed slowly on the podium, her head leaning into her violin as she continued to play her angelic music. “A ball, perhaps?” You murmured.
“A ball.” Mister Sylus’ voice was low as yours, nodding in approval.
You both watched Yumei play. The violin almost sounded like it was a voice; it sang low hums underneath the high tones. Mister Sylus continued to speak, “So, in that ball, there was obviously music. Ichi knew me best out of all my business partners,” You didn’t notice he was drinking beforehand until he took his watered down whiskey from the desk, probably because he was preoccupied with watching Yumei play that he didn’t have a care for his whiskey.
“A few songs after, she swept into the room when Ichi introduced her. Her greeting was a beautiful orchestra.” Just from Mister Sylus’ description, you could imagine how Yumei captivated every eye in the room, making all the people fall silent upon her elegant artistry, like what she was doing to you right now.
Below, her music started to reach its peak. “So, then I took her for private lessons, not for me, of course.” Mister Sylus chuckled, “I wanted her to learn a song that I’ve been envisioning all my life.”
Yumei’s hands moved faster as the music gradually built its pace. “A song that could bring solace,”
“What would that be?” You asked.
Mister Sylus held a finger up to let you know that he would come back to your question, just not now. “When I took her in, she was quite surprised by my knowledge with music,” He started and you listened, both to him and Yumei’s skillful playing. “but I only learned music for the song I wanted to hear.”
“And did you get to hear it?”
You both waited for Yumei to come down from ascending in her song, and when the music finally calmed, “No. I couldn’t get it right, no matter how I arranged everything.” He sighed.
Yumei’s song was coming to an end. “Why not?”
Mister Sylus smiled. “It was cold out today, no? It’s wintertime, after all, and I’m sure you’ve noticed that each day gets colder and colder, with no one to hold it’s quite unbearable. What do we do to combat the cold when we are alone? Why, we cover up, layer upon layer to keep ourselves from freezing to death. We need other things with us to keep ourselves alive. Physically and superficially. Like music, a piano alone cannot make a song, and if it could, could you dissect what there would be underneath it? There would hardly be any harmonic notes to accompany it. It would feel…empty.
“When I wrote the song, it was a long process. You see, Y/N, I was young and reserved, I didn’t have many friends. It was not hard to be alone, it was hard to be lonely. But I found myself a partner with music; I found that music was my companion, yet when I attempted to make the song I wanted, it seemed lonely as well. I tried so many fixes on the arrangement, but I couldn’t give it the solace that it gave me. Even if I learned all these instruments, what use would it be if I could never get to hear the music I desired live? So I realized that I needed someone to complete it, but I had too much on my hands at the time and…well, let’s just say I couldn’t play as I used to anymore.
“We often think that we should learn to be independent, but truly, we need companions. We need to be together with other people, just like how music needs more than just one instrument to make a beautiful song.
“Y/N, tell me, what can be so enjoyable about the winter with the absence of the summer?”
You could almost laugh. “That you don’t get to melt in the sweltering heat?”
He laughed for you. “Of course. But you are not looking further—you cannot enjoy the cold without warmth.” He now looked at you as Yumei waited for his signal, “I want you to get down there and play the song you’ve been practising.” His voice was filled with purpose. Everything you had learned from him was crafted out of a plan to create something solely for his satisfaction.
You blanched. You weren’t quite ready to play the entire thing yet, not when you hadn’t mastered the whole song. “I don’t know if I am ready yet, Mister Sylus.” Your gloved fingers twitched at the thought of making the slightest mistake.
He raised a brow, “Why do you think you aren’t ready?”
Right, it had been at least six months since you had been attending his classes meticulously and you had learned quite a lot thanks to his impeccable methods of teaching, yet your self-doubt somehow manages to overcome your every performance. It was scary to make a mistake and much more now that Mister Sylus had told you the reason why he taught his students music.
“I don’t know, sir.” You said, but you knew why. You were afraid of failure.
You could recall the times when you played the piece, you always end up missing a note or rushing the whole song, but one thing you noticed was that Mister Sylus never told you off of it. On other songs, he would notice the slightest mistake, but in that particular piece, he listened through and through without reparations despite your playing being a little off. You always wondered why he never told you off but you now realized he was probably trying to see if anything of your playing could be incorporated to the final piece. You weren’t ready regardless of knowing of that fact now, because he also never told you what technique to keep.
The ticking of the wall clock engulfed the room as you felt it echo in your bones, your eyes slowly shifting from Yumei who had her violin down but stood still, to Mister Sylus who still had his brow raised and you watched it fall when he broke the silence with a chuckle.
You tried to meet him in the eye when he turned to face you, and when you did, you could see the light in it that made you feel assured. “You can handle it,” He patted you on the shoulder, “Show me that you can make this song beautiful as I intended.”
—
The stage felt like it was about to tilt with the way your heart was beating too fast. It was a routine for you to feel this way each time you practiced on stage, except it was much more amplified now when Yumei was just right ahead of you as you both waited for Mister Sylus’ signal.
“Play the pieces I had taught you both, and don’t worry about it sounding like a mess. It won’t.” You could almost see the smug look on Mister Sylus’ face from above, but you simply nodded and in the corner of your eye, Yumei did the same. “Start, Y/N goes first and Yumei enters after five seconds.” Mister Sylus’ authoritative voice boomed through the speakers.
Yumei turned to face you, her long hair and dress flowing as she did. Her eyes flickered with the stage lights, and for a second, you felt utterly speechless at her beauty. How could someone bear such exquisiteness and talentedness? You gulped as she nodded at you, her pinkish lips parting to speak. “Whenever you’re ready.” Even her voice was as beautiful as she was; featherlight and gentle.
You took a deep breath, feeling your racing heartbeat as you did, and when you released your breath, the trembling in your fingers stopped as it started to move along the porcelain keys. Each movement came from your muscle memory since you had played this piece over and over for months. You closed your eyes and let the melody fill you, when Yumei slowly joined in with her violin.
Whenever you were on stage, it felt too big for your little body. You felt undeserving to be on a stage where many renowned musicians had played their art, but right now, you felt the floors seep into the soles of your feet, almost like you were about to become one as the music you played continued on smoothly. The sound of Yumei’s violin was only helping you gain your wings, and suddenly, the stage felt like it was flying.
Every note was fixed for each other. The notes that you were once afraid of playing incorrectly were now imprinted on the tips of your fingers, and everything felt perfect. Yumei was also tuned in beautifully, and you both began to connect as the music transcended.
You imagined it; the auditorium was filled with people watching you and Yumei make love with the music. Your piano and her violin mixed as you both birthed a beautiful piece that Mister Sylus had long been waiting to have his ears blessed with. You and Yumei would have a standing ovation—or ovulation, if you would consider—and everything was just perfect. Your stage fright was gone and all you could feel was your piano and the violin interlocking its notes together.
And then you imagined again; you were standing alone in the cold as snowflakes fell on your nose, following the beat of the music as it did. You felt the coldness of your cheeks through your eyelids as you closed them, feeling how the piece itself was formed like snowflakes growing out its fractals. Each note you played created a beautiful line on each side, forming symmetrical patterns of beautiness.
However, when it was about to reach its final form, it melted. Then, you were able to imagine it too; Yumei was on the opposite side of wherever you were standing now, flames flaring behind her back as her notes fueled her ignition. Each note she played melted your enormous snowflakes, but you did not back down regardless. In result, there was a perfect balance between the two of you; a perfect mix of two instruments meeting in the middle where it was not cold, it was not hot, it was perfectly warm .
Finally, the music climaxed as it came to its defining end; the slow ceasing of your playing, and Yumei with her delayed release. As you were finished, you were catching your breath. The piece you had created with Yumei was so marvelous that it sent you into overdrive and when you finally descended, you felt like there was nothing more beautiful than this.
Yumei turned again, her eyes speaking a thousand of emotions, but all you could see was how it shared the same sentiment as you did; the piece was beautiful, the way you both played was beautiful, and everything was beautiful. Mister Sylus was so moved that all you could see from the window above was how speechless he was, taking five seconds to recover, then he spoke into the microphone.
“You may take your leave now.” He said before disappearing into the dark as he shut off the light from the room above.
You did not even question it. You understood Mister Sylus; the music you had just procured was overwhelmingly amazing that even you would walk out.
You smiled to yourself humbly, feeling the aftermath of the music once more.
—
Finally, you were outside of the building. You hadn’t seen Mister Sylus so it only meant that he had gone ahead. Beside you was Yumei who was now clothed in a black padded coat, her violin in its case neatly tucked under her arm.
“Where are you headed?” You asked, your voice hoarse as you still felt overstimulated by the piece you had both just played earlier.
“[REDACTED].” Yumei responded. It only meant she was going to have to take the bus before yours arrived, which made you involuntarily sigh. You didn’t want to be the one seeing her off; it felt bittersweet knowing that this would be the last time you’d see her. You simply nodded. You did not want to give your number either. For some reason, it was more than perfect for her to just leave without any lingering feelings, because if you did give your number, you would feel the inevitable itch to call her, and it was just not going to work as you wanted this short-lived infatuation to end as is with the piece you had both created.
So, when she stepped on the bus that arrived, she turned to you and smiled. “Thank you, Y/N.” In her eyes, she felt the same as you did.
The bus took off and you were left alone again, in the snow. This time, you felt complete.