Letters to Jeon

01

      We met in the early winter.

      Decently I mean, in our high school music room. I still remember the music you played with your piano and still vision you today, almost as true.

       I was watching you from afar. After mustering all the courage I could, I'd decided to audition for the school orchestra but whenever I saw you butterflies attacked my stomach. I'd known you ever since we were 8. You couldn't believe it first.

      I am there when you perform at Albert Hall in Manchester. I saw billions of stars shining above you while playing Mozart Concerto K. 466. We're the same age, only I'm half a year older. You were one of those we all look up to and to figure that we were in the same high school, I knew this is my chance.

      It's not a surprise that you're famous in our school. You are that all heartthrob, I must say. You're everywhere and do releases albums, and done a lot of performances. You were also one of the top students in SOPA. Not to mention your good features that captured everyone, yes-including-me. Dreamy eyes, wavy hair, cute nose, and glossy lips. But more to that, your inviting presence, you're considerate, nice and thoughtful. A whole baby too.

      In my dreams, you are here. Now that it's winter. It reminds me of you, especially on that day. The place flourished by the sweetness of your music. How you make love with the piano. And I'm not exaggerating, it is what they meant for me. So don't tease me, Jeon, with my too-deep-words. I'm seriously hearing you now.

      I'm down for classical music. I barely listen to other genres aside from it. How the strings bows together, the blowing syncs, the drum rolls, and the piano make a solo.

      It was my mom who did enjoy this kind of music (a masterpiece) and then I found it alluring too, trying to follow her footsteps which is impossible in the first place, but who knows I am now where I am now? It still feel surreal.

      She sent me to a music school to have a formal lesson when I was 5 to learn the piano but I couldn't continue for long. When I saw my favorite violinist, Hilary Hahn, I switched to violin later. And also piano is too big for my tiny hands.

      Our world moves on a different axis. We never properly met until that day. This day. Yes! It is the same day today and here I am writing you. Writing us.

      I was hesitant whether to continue my intention, to seek the music professor or come back in the next day, but it all never mattered when someone bumped into me all of the sudden and the door accidentally opened. I almost fall.

      "I'm sorry, Miss." The guy apologized, wore a baseball uniform, who's looking like just came from a game. His friend teasing him from the back. I never bothered to argue, my eyes are already darted to you. Your face field with confusion and lips slightly parted. I remember how my heart beats heavily, seeing you in just a 5-meter distance.

      "I... I, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." I trailed off.

      "It's totally fine and are you okay?" You asked and my heart continues to pound fast.

      "I'm good. Thanks for asking." My voice quivered a bit. You nodded and averted your gaze from me to the piano keys. Debating to myself if I should let the day pass and walk away, then words promptly slip in my mouth. "Is that one of Chopin's Waltz you're playing?"

       Your lips cracked into a smile and for the first time, I've seen you smile in close distance and not just with your friends, photos, posters, and so on. But personally, for me. It felt surreal. Your brown eyes were so deep and some of your raven hair pour down to your forehead. You're no doubt handsome and I can see those veins in your hands.

      I can't imagine that there will be us. We are more than what I had ever.

      "Yes, it is," you replied. "Have you been listening?"

      "Not really," I lied and incline my head down in embarrassment. I'm just here to check for the music teacher and by chance that you're present at the moment so I took it.

      "Alright." You finally said.

      Did I go too much for asking if it was okay to stay and listen? Instead of leaving, I even extended our first encounter and you were too nice for letting me.

      Seems like that day wasn't long to write but it is the most unforgettable that I wish I can go back to. Ditching my last class and chose to spend it by listening to your version of Chopin's Waltz in A Minor. I remember how you laughed at my face when I finally told you the whole thing.

      Sometimes, I found myself wishing we'd never met. That we never know our names, that I didn't just let out an act of courage to came that day and even asked for more because that moment assured me of my feelings for you.

      It was painful that the only choice I have now is to let go.

      But still, one day.

A/N: So this is the first chapter yikes. I'm actually on the process of rewriting this story. Any thoughts about it? Hope you stay tuned to the story.