Stardust || Dokyeom ✔

twelve

THEY STARTED SEEING EACH other a bit more often after that.

On Mondays and Wednesdays, Seok Min would sing in the choir room. And for some reason, Eun Ha would find herself pushing her wheelchair through the hall a little bit faster than before, balancing her books on her knees as she made her way past twenty-seven doors to their unspoken rendezvous.

She'd push the door open and he'd look up and greet her and smile, and pat the space beside him in silent invitation for her to stay.

Some days, when she felt like it, she would ask him to help her get off her wheelchair and carefully onto the floor beside him, and he'd strum that beautiful guitar of his and they'd sing merry songs until a hallway monitor told them to leave.

And every Tuesday and Thursday, he'd meet her at the piano room. She'd hear him before seeing him, hear his wonderful voice greeting her "Eunnie!" and feeling his large hands as he propped them on her shoulders and said hello again, just for the sake of it. Then he'd pull out a chair and two cups of coffee – sometimes, even a bag of cookies – and sit beside her, and he'd read of her song book and ask her to play some for him.

And he'd watch her as she played, watch her fingers waltz over the piano keys and her lips curl up into the slightest smile and her eyelids flutter closed every so often. He was content with just looking at her, seeing the raw passion on her face and realising, with some wonder, that maybe dancing wasn't this girl's only true calling.

Because the litheness, the expertise, the swiftness of her pale, slender fingers – they didn't belong to a doctor.

They were a pianist's.