Ri Jeong Hyeok has always been a patient man.
Patience is a virtue he was born with, exemplified by the way he grew up having to teach himself the basics of life most of the time, what with his parents always perennially preoccupied with matters of state that the young boy had no place in.
It followed him all throughout his adolescence, when he was suddenly bombarded with life-changing decisions he had to sort through in order to figure out just exactly what it was that he wanted to do after school.
Though most of his peers ended up making rash decisions they would later regret, Jeong Hyeok took his time in honing several skills until he weeded out those he didn't excel in, and recognised where he, as an individual, truly thrived.
In his young adult life, when everyone else around him seemed to be climbing ladders in their respective fields, Jeong Hyeok clung onto patience as he waited for his turn to finally have a taste at success.
Most of the time, he felt like a fish out of water in his chosen career, for music was something entirely alien from his bloodline full of diplomats and soldiers.
But he did not fret.
At the early age of ten, Jeong Hyeok was considered to be something of a musical prodigy, and though he did try to stretch himself out in other fields every year in school, the call of music would prove to be so loud as to be impossible to ignore.
Patience has always done him good, such that the mantra patience, patience, patience would constantly ring through his mind like an earworm, echoing inside him relentlessly.
It has done him well so far, with the musician never seeming to ever run out of his golden pot of patience, not even on days when the notes in his head refuse to form a song.
He remained, as always, a patient man.
...that is, until he met Yoon Seri.
The stubborn student was the absolute antithesis of Jeong Hyeok: feminine, chatty, smiling, but also - impatient, loud, and, most importantly, just terrible at music.
She was also very much the opposite of all the people in his life, for her aura simply exuded the kind of charm and freshness one could never expect from serious career-driven individuals whose idea of fun is to compete with each other.
He had seen her lingering around in his freelance music classes one day, unwittingly keeping his eyes pinned on her to see if she could follow his lessons. She seemed smart enough, with her attention to detail second to none, asking Jeong Hyeok questions that told him she knew exactly what she was talking about.
It impressed him, to say the least. Though he was still in his mid twenties, Jeong Hyeok had managed to meet and mingle with different types of people from all walks of life - some from his parents' society circle, most from his stints in university.
Yoon Seri was definitely of her own kind.
Sometimes, she would approach the young music teacher after all other students had gone just to clarify some things about music. He guessed (correctly, he would later find) that they were the same age. He preferred for them to talk comfortably, but she still used honorifics with him.
Clearly, music was a subject she held in utmost regard, and though Jeong Hyeok was itching to know why - why exactly a beautiful vibrant young woman, who was obviously a chaebol, would bother herself with his mundane classes - he also respected her privacy.
Besides, what kind of musician would he be if he refused to answer all her queries about his one true muse? Jeong Hyeok knew he still had a long way to go before he could truly deem himself an expert in music, but his passion for it proved incomparable. It was enough for the university to allow him to hold his own classes, albeit he himself was still very much a learner.
It had amused him to have such an animated, bright student for once, having grown accustomed to the usual crowd of overly-polite and quiet musical novices.
Seri was a breath of fresh air. She looked a bit out of place in the class, with her immaculate hair and luxurious clothing effortlessly standing out, but she appeared not to care. It was fascinating.
One day, about a month after she had first joined, Seri stayed behind after class to ask if Jeong Hyeok could teach her in private.
"I was born with a gift, you see," she had proclaimed with a proud smile that made her gleaming eyes disappear. "And I intend to not let it go to waste."
Both his curiosity and interest piqued, eager to turn theory into practice, the patient music teacher offered her voice lessons twice-a-week for free, saying natural talent should never have to pay to be developed.
She had insisted on compensation, waving her hand in a casual gesture that implied money was not an issue to her, but Jeong Hyeok insisted harder.
"We'll decide on those matters later. For now, just keep attending the normal classes, then stay behind for an hour-long voice lesson. That's the deal," he had told her with a grin.
It took four lessons for Jeong Hyeok to realise two important things: one, that Seri really likes to talk a lot, even in the middle of a song; and, two, the woman was hopelessly tone deaf.
Well, if he was being honest, he noticed more than those two things about her.
For instance, he took note of how her eyes would sparkle in sheer delight whenever she spoke of something that interested her; how she laughed with all her heart, as if no one was watching her; how the studio would glow just a bit brighter whenever she walked in.
What he failed to notice was how he was noticing all these things about her. And more.
He was a patient man, yes, but he found himself often illogically tapping his foot on the ground and uncharacteristically checking his watch again and again as he waited for her to come in for his regular classes.
However pleasant having Seri around was, he couldn't escape the fact that her being tone deaf was a real problem.
As a musician, Jeong Hyeok believed that anything could make music, and every sound could create a melody. He was often asked the question "What is the most beautiful music you have ever heard?" To which he has never had a definite answer, regardless of any existing songs or sounds or symphonies.
But with this gift came a curse: his expert ear also could easily decipher the very opposite of those things, which, tragically, included Seri's singing.
When he had asked her to sing the syllables la, la, la to the tune of do, re, mi, she did so with gusto, her chest puffed out in pride, and he thought to himself how such a wonderful voice could sing like a dying cat.
Now, with their fifth private lesson about to start, he does his newly-developed ticks like clockwork - rhythmically tapping his foot while rolling up his sleeves once again to glance at the time on his wrist - but for an entirely different reason.
Nerves creep up over him, drawing him to palm his neck, rolling his head around as he releases a nervous breath.
I need to tell her today. Break it to her gently.
When Seri reappears in the room after going on a restroom break, she bounds toward him, all cute and, well, stunning in a simple dress and bare face.
Gesturing for her to take her place beside the piano, Jeong Hyeok doesn't sit on the bench but, rather, on a high stool in front of her so that he's now eye-level with her, his hands folded neatly on top of one knee.
Clearing his throat, he wills himself to look deep into those almond eyes that seem to stare right into his very soul.
"Seri, I think that you need to reevaluate where music stands in your life," he tells her carefully, not missing the immediate way in which her angelic face suddenly appears crestfallen, causing a sudden irrational tug at his heart.
"What do you mean?" She asks, and he spies a tiny pout about to form in her mouth.
"I mean, how about if we stop the voice lessons for now and focus on your knowledge of the craft? You already have a pretty good foundation, I can teach you more -"
And, in one fell swoop, the pout turns into a full-on glare so strong, Jeong Hyeok stops talking right then and there, staring at the sudden change in her, inwardly wondering where the innocent charming girl had gone.
Standing straight with her hands on her waist, Seri tosses her pretty little head and looks at him squarely in the face. "No. I want to sing."
He tries again, backing up slowly for the glare seems to be emanating some sort of imaginary sparks that he can somehow feel, making the hairs on his arms stand.
"Seri, I don't know how else to say this, but..." He swallows the lump in his throat before he continues. "I don't think that singing is necessarily the right fit for you."
Seri's hands move abruptly from her waist to fold themselves tight against her chest, her eyebrows knit. "That's absurd and you know it."
"No, I actually do know it," the musician confirms slowly in a firm voice, mirroring her stance in a bid to assert himself as the teacher. "You have the drive, but you can't sing."
At this, she stomps her foot loudly against the ground, but the surprising impact of it doesn't startle Jeong Hyeok as much as the sight of pools of water threatening to spill out of her eyes.
Seri had now gone from cheerful to belligerent to accusatory to upset in a span of 5 minutes.
What is going on?
"That's not true!" The stubborn student almost yells, uncrossing her arms and balling her hands into fists on either side of her. Looking at her teacher defiantly, she tries to school her pretty face into an expression of utmost authority, only such a feat is belied by the trembling of her lips.
Jeong Hyeok doesn't yield, valiantly maintaining his stiff position in front of the crying woman, though it takes every fibre of his being not to reach out to the poor girl to try and calm her down.
But, just as he's about to bravely take one single step towards her, she surprises him once again, proving to be a walking enigma of sorts, as she comforts her own self, schooling her breathing into a steady pace until what little water that had filled her eyes just ten seconds before seems to dry out completely.
She was reining full control of the situation, and he admires this silent display of strength.
"My mother was a singer," Seri says quietly when the trembles in her body had thankfully ceased. She sits back down and stares out the window. "I was told she was one of the best. Only..."
Her gaze drops down to her lap as her voice trails off, sounding as though she were speaking from a distance instead of just in front of him. Opting not to prod, Jeong Hyeok takes this opportunity to slide into the spot next to her on the piano bench, keeping a respectable space as much as the length of it allowed.
Thankfully, she doesn't push him away.
With a deep breath, she finds her words. "Only, I never even got to meet her."
Jeong Hyeok bows his head in reverence to this personal moment of solace she was inadvertently letting him be a part of.
"I thought maybe this way I could... feel a... connection."
This touching revelation doesn't seem to be a difficult one to say out loud for his impassioned student; only that, she's very clearly still processing the grief over a loss of something she never even got to experience in the first place.
And if there was one thing Jeong Hyeok was well-versed at other than music, it was grief.
He clears his throat. "What kind of a singer was she?" He asks Se-ri gently, to which she initially responds by looking at him in surprise, before her eyes crumble at the sides in palpable gratitude.
It was a look he knew all too well - one he often gave to people who actually asked about his brother, the one he lost to a grim accident many years ago, instead of pretending like Ri Mu Hyeok had never even existed.
Jeong Hyeok can almost see the wheels turning in Se-ri's head before she answers his direct question with an equally direct answer. "I was told she could sing any song, but her favourite genre was jazz."
He offers her a smile. "She must have been very good."
"She was. Would you like to listen to one of her songs?"
"If you don't mind," he says gratefully, watching her excitedly take out her mobile phone from her purse and scroll through the screen. He notices that where tears had almost streaked her beautiful face, there was now a soft glow on it.
Soon, the delicious notes from a woman's strong feminine voice fills the room, the distinct jazz tone immediately drawing them to start swaying in their seats. At one point, their shoulders move in opposite directions and bump slightly into each other.
They share a laugh right when the song ends, and it only took two seconds for Jeong Hyeok to realise how joyful Seri looks when she laughs.
This is what music does to him, and this is what her mother's memory does to her. Who was he to deny her that?
"I'll teach you how to sing," he announces with conviction, nodding his head resolutely at Seri when their eyes meet. "I promise."
She raises her eyebrows curiosly. "Haven't you been teaching me this whole time?"
"Well, I have, but I think I've been using the wrong technique on you. And that's my bad."
A flash of hope appears in her chocolate irises so warm, it was enough to start melting his heart.
"Okay."
His heart melted a little, again, during their first lesson after that afternoon. He now allowed her to discover her own voice, instead of filling her head with theories and pushing objective methods onto her that she was clearly too independent to adhere to.
Se-ri was mesmerising to watch while she let the music find her, and he could tell she was delighted at having free reins this time. Her spirit soared, like a horse unbridled.
"Thank you," she mouthed suddenly to him at one point while he let her listen to a song of her own choosing, as she grasped the sides of the headphones attached to her, eyes twinkling like reflections of the sun against the ocean waves. He could feel his own dimples digging into his skin.
His heart melted some more, bit by bit, after that - especially every time Seri spoke her beautiful mind so freely, without any reservations, and he found himself sharing stories about his own life with her, too.
"Tell me about your brother," she said one time, after gaining knowledge about his death that Jeong Hyeok had willingly shared. "Was he also a musician?"
"No. But this piano was his last gift to me," he replied, and he witnessed Seri fondly cradle the keys with her fingers.
He told her everything she wanted to know; the name of his brother on his lips - and hers - was like a melody he'd memorised since time immemorial and never wanted to forget. And without meaning to, Seri got him to open up the way no one had before.
His heart melted completely when she showed up for their sixth lesson, smiling so brightly the sunlight streaming through the windows could never compare, and Jeong Hyeok was hit with a quiet yet earth-shattering epiphany that he already cared for her more than he thought he had.
While he dallied with himself, she flitted about the room as usual; not only did her happy glances at him while she perfectly hit note after note from a song they'd been practising together for weeks make his heart inexplicably soar, they reminded him of his passion and of why he chose this profession.
He wanted to help her achieve her dreams; he wanted to see her happy.
"I guess my work here is done," he now tells her in what he deems to be their final session, with Seri already being good enough to sing without any external aid.
She beams at him, her signature toothy grin and charming eye smile on full display for him to partake. He gives her his dimpled one as they sit down together on the piano bench. The conversation they had on that same spot that started it all seem to have happened both ages ago and only yesterday.
"I hope you know, your mother would have been very proud of you," he adds, tipping his head towards her phone, from which her mother's melodic voice can be heard again. He shakes his head. "No, I know she's proud of you."
Se-ri nods excitedly, singing along to the song - perfectly, this time - but then her movements gradually slow to a stop; her face appears melancholic.
"I really wish I knew her," she whispers longingly.
His body seems to have a mind of its own as it inches closer to her upon hearing what she just said. "I'm sure she wishes for the same thing."
"And I wish I knew your brother, too."
They move their heads slowly towards each other at the same time, one pair of grief-stricken eyes meeting another, shoulders turning to face each other, like birds drawn to the sun.
The corners of her lips lift together with the arch in her eyes. "Thank you for everything," she tells him. "I owe you a lot."
"You did the work," he quickly deflected.
"Which I wouldn't have been able to do without you."
"I'm happy to have guided you through it."
Maybe he'd only imagined it, but the space between them had now disappeared, and what remained was an invisible line that Jeong Hyeok really wanted to cross. He wished he knew if he could do it freely, if she would welcome him, if she looked at him the same way he looked at her, if she felt -
"You know, in the beginning, I was looking for a different connection," Seri said then, interrupting his train of thoughts, which he was glad for. The fresh part of his brain that's been occupied by Seri wants to hear her thoughts over his own, to listen to her stories.
As she stares deep into his eyes, he notices that his breathing seems to have come to a full stop. The world around him is reduced to Seri's face looming closer and closer towards him, until all that's left is a fraction of a centimetre for their heads to touch.
She smells of citrus fruits, clean linen, and of home, and he thinks she's perfect.
"And I think I found another one."
The piano from his brother sits idly by, the voice of her mother permeates the air, both the sole witnesses to the breath Jeong Hyeok and Seri share as they capture each other's lips in a kiss.
And Jeong Hyeok finally puts an end to a lifelong search, when the soft sounds Seri makes as he feels her arms wrap snugly around his neck effortlessly become the most beautiful music he has ever heard.
_
Photo from The Swoon; prompt by @biblio_phile100