Allegro

I’d been channeling my pent-up feelings into my music, sinking every free moment I had into practicing. Minho had been blowing up my phone, understandably unaware and hurt by my sudden icing him out. I didn’t respond — I wasn’t one for confrontation, and I didn’t even have the right to confront him to begin with.

My playing had gotten decent enough, thanks to help from Professor Lee, to the point where everything but the chorus had begun to sound good. That would be a harder fish to fry, and we would get to it when we got to it.

Professor Lee sat with me in my practice room during an earlier rehearsal after having a shouting match with Mr. Moon over his lack of feedback. He demonstrated chunks of the chorus on his Yamaha and I followed along as well as I could, picking up bits and pieces of it slowly but surely.

As we took a break so I could stretch my legs and hands, Professor Lee handed me a small bottle of water. He leaned against an obsolete piano, crossing his arms. “Have you begun working on the vocal part?”

I sipped my water and looked down at my feet, shifting my weight between the two. My voice came out small. “No, not yet.”

“If you’re having trouble finding a vocal instructor, I told you that I would happily find someone,” he said pointedly, looking at me over the top of his glasses, annoyed.

“I’ll find one,” I said quietly. “I promise.”

“Very well,” he sighed, returning to his seat. “Let’s go again.”

The chords themselves weren’t the issue with my playthrough of Pink Floyd; it was more so my technique with plucking and finger vibratos, combined with the speed in which I needed to play the song. I would either pluck a string so hard it would twang against the wood, or so soft it would barely be heard.

“If you’re going to have a drum and piano in the background, you’ll need to play louder,” Professor Lee said sternly, packing up his Yamaha delicately. “We can always turn up the amp, but that won’t solve all of your issues.”

“I understand,” I sighed, tired from the repetitive playing. I carefully snapped my carrier locks shut and heaved the case strap around my shoulder. Hesitantly, I met his eyes. “Some of the students are putting on an independent showcase in the assembly room tomorrow night.”

“I know,” Professor Lee said, arching his eyebrow. “I’m the one who approved the use for the room.”

“Oh, right,” I trailed off. “Anyway, as my mentor, I guess, I would be very appreciative if you would come.”

His lips formed a straight line, deep in thought. “I suppose there should be at least one competent faculty member supervising the event. I’ll bring Professor Finnerty with me to watch over.”

I gave him a small, thankful smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

I walked out to find my locker, stowing away my guitar safely. I shut it and nearly jumped back as Will’s face appeared from behind the door. He raised his hand. “I don’t know if I told you, but you kicked ass at the presentation.”

“You have,” I laughed, high-fiving him. “You should give yourself some credit too, though.”

He snorted. “Even after presenting, I don’t think I know a single thing about Yoko Ono, Huang.”

“Fair enough,” I smiled, letting him walk beside me. “What are you doing on this side of campus? You’re not stalking me again, are you, Ricci?”

“Again?” he feigned offense, bumping his arm into mine playfully. “I’ll have you know this is the first occurrence of any sort of stalking.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I laughed, rolling my eyes at him. I poked his shoulder back. “You’re like a lost puppy, Will.”

He smiled and looked away, focusing on the walk ahead of us. “You know me so well,” he said, lighthearted sarcasm dripping in his tone.

We fell into a comfortable silence, making our way into the dining hall for a bite to eat. Since it was later in the afternoon, not many people were present. I noticed Q and Kitty, the former waving and the latter blissfully ignoring my polite nod. I shook my head, playing it off, and grabbed a tray of food to tide me over until dinner.

Will sat in front of me at a table, his plate nearly identical to mine, only he didn’t have the dessert I’d grabbed instantly. I immediately went to eat the mango bingsoo first, ignoring the conformities of saving the sweets for last.

Will arched an eyebrow at my action, holding back a laugh. “Seriously, Huang? You got a sweet tooth or something?”

“Just making up for your lack of,” I said while eating, covering my mouth to hide the chewing. I swallowed and smiled mischievously. “You know, you could go grab a portion and give it to me.”

“I somehow don’t think that’s a great idea,” he chuckled, leaning his head on his fist as he took a bite of kimchi. By that point, I’d already housed the bingsoo and was working on my bibimbap. His eyes widened at me. “Michelle, seriously, that food isn't going anywhere. You’re going to choke!”

“What?” I said innocently. Though typically well-mannered, I was practically starving and the served lunch genuinely looked somewhat decent. “I skipped breakfast.”

Will sighed and shook his head, eating his chicken slowly. We engaged in friendly banter while we ate, arguing to the point where anyone who passed us would presumably make the assumption we didn’t like each other. But for us, it seemed to be a staple in our friendship.

I wiped my mouth with a small napkin, patting my now full stomach happily as I finished the bingsoo Will had caved in and grabbed for me. He looked at me with amusement but said nothing. I found myself looking back at him with a smile.

He cleared his throat, standing up and brushing off his pants. “Where are you off to next?”

I shrugged. “Probably my dorm. I have to figure out a way to do this vocal thing for my showcase piece so Lee stops hounding me about it.”

Will’s eyes lit up excitedly. “Can I come?”

Something in my stomach stirred at the idea of letting the boy into my room. However, I couldn’t seem to resist the puppy-dog eyes he was giving me. I leaned my head back and sighed. “Ah, hell. Fine.”

He grinned at me, yanking me from the table and dragging me at a near speedwalk to my side of campus. His pacing was hard to keep up with, and by the time we got up to my room, I had to take a minute to hunch over and breathe.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he said pointedly, shaking his head at me. “You need some cardio or something, Huang.”

I swatted my hand in the air towards his general direction. “Shut up, I just wasn’t prepared to run after eating practically the whole damn cafeteria.”

He leaned back onto my bed, cracking up at the reminder of the late lunch we’d just had. He sat up, legs criss-crossed, his face taking on a more serious note. “Okay, come on, we gotta get you up and singing.”

“What do you know about singing?” I teased, giggling.

He feigned offense, clutching a hand to his heart. “Wow, Huang, I’ll have you know I was a theater kid back in America.”

My smile turned more into a curious “o” shape. “Woah, really? I didn’t expect that out of you. You seem a lot more…”

“I know, I seem a little too pretentious for all of that,” he sighed, waving his hand. “Funny enough, though, that’s the trait that gets me through it.”

“I was going to say cool, given the stereotypes of theater kids, but sure,” I said quietly.

Will smirked at me, his eyes challenging. “You think I’m cool, Huang?” he teased.

I turned around, ignoring him, looking for my guitar. I grimaced, realizing I’d left it in the locker all the way across campus. I huffed and took a seat in my chair, crossing my arms. “I guess I’ll just have to sing along to some cover, then.”

Will sat patiently, waiting for me to do literally anything. I looked back awkwardly. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get much done with you in the room, Ricci.”

“Let me help you,” he said, somewhat eager, smiling. “What song are you doing again? Something from Pink Floyd?”

I nodded, grabbing the laptop from my desk and pulling up the full song for him to listen to. When it ended, I found a version where the vocals were isolated and hummed along as Will studied it. He rewound to the beginning section of Claire Torry’s singing and paused it.

“Are you good at runs?” he asked, tilting his head at me.

I looked down at my feet, embarrassed. It felt odd singing in front of someone so intimately, given I was only recently acquainted with singing in front of anyone at all. Something about being one-on-one with someone left more room for nerves than with several people watching.

I sang out a few quiet runs, ranging in the different chords I picked up from the song. Will nodded, placing his hand on his chin. “That’s a good start, but we need to make sure you can hold the high note while projecting your voice. Make sense?”

I nodded, sighing gratefully as I realized the boy could truly be my saving grace for this song — and from Professor Lee. Will led me through a few different vocal exercises, working on scales and deep stomach breathing. We slowly worked through the first bit of it, and I laughed off the few voice cracks the best I could.

After enough time and a bit of throat coat tea, I attempted to do the full song. It wasn’t perfect by any means — my voice probably cracked every time I hit the highest few notes — but it was enough to get my foot in the door. Will grabbed his jacket from my bed frame, and I walked him over to my door, squeezing his arm. “Thank you for your help, I swear, I’d be so fucked without you.”

He looked down at me, hands in his pockets, tilting his head. “That wasn’t bad, but I think you’re missing a bit of soul.”

I looked away, embarrassed. “Yeah, Lee said the same thing about my guitar.”

“Hey, don’t get me wrong, your voice is beautiful,” he said softly. My gaze snapped back up to his, noticing his smile. He rolled his eyes. “You’re so dramatic. All I’m saying is you have the talent, I’d just love to see the personality behind it. Make that shit your own, you know?”

I smiled back bashfully, my cheeks going the slightest bit pink. “Thank you, Will.”

“You’re welcome, Michelle,” he murmured, holding my eyes for a few long yet comfortable moments before clearing his throat and looking away. He turned to leave, unlocking my door.

“Wait,” I said, grabbing his arm gently. He turned to face me curiously. I let out a small breath. “Some of the other people in the showcase are holding a little show for fun tomorrow to get all the nerves out before the big day. It’s tomorrow night around six o’clock and…” I hesitated, looking at my feet. “I would really like it if you came.”

“No need to be so nervous, Huang,” Will said, and though I wasn’t looking at him, I could hear the smirk in his voice. “I’ll be there, no questions asked.”

I looked up at him, relieved. I walked him out and watched as he disappeared down the stairwell, my heart beating in a way I was unfamiliar with. I shook the feeling and went back into my room, the smile not leaving my face.

. . .

I found myself enjoying Japanese the next day more than I should have, eagerly anticipating the class all day. It was a nice distraction, a way to continue ignoring Minho despite us being desk partners in a few classes. He’d made small attempts to talk to me, and I responded politely, but I didn’t have the energy to humor him more than that.

The rude awakening at the market had been enough to make me avoid dealing with the issue. It might’ve been selfish, even bitchy, but I wasn’t one to be entirely selfless and open.

After my last class of the day, I grabbed my guitar and headed back to my dorm to prepare for the little gathering tonight. I’d decided to do Hozier’s cover of an Arctic Monkeys song in my own style — Do I Wanna Know? I’d listened to it on repeat for a week, and I felt confident enough in my abilities to play it well.

I fumbled with my keys to unlock the door, but when I twisted the knob, I found it was already open. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion as I pushed the door. I jumped slightly when I saw Minho standing just inside, nearly blocking my way.

He looked concerned, arms crossed over his chest. “Michelle, you have to talk to me.”

I brushed past him, setting my things down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered, avoiding his gaze. I ran my fingers through my hair and opened my laptop on my desk, staying on my feet. If blissful ignorance couldn’t save me, I wasn’t sure anything could.

“Mich,” Minho’s voice was softer now, hurt lacing his voice. He reached out to grab my upper arm, but I shrugged it off. When he tried again, this time grabbing tighter, I couldn’t pull away. “Michelle, will you at least have the decency to tell me why you’re shutting me out? You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

I shut my eyes for a moment, letting out a frustrated sigh. As I thought of something to say, I settled on a half-truth. “People saw you looking at Kitty,” I said, not meeting his eyes. It came out more like a question than a statement. “And they’ve been… hounding me about it?”

Minho let go of my arm and shoved his hands into his pockets, huffing in almost defeat. “Seriously, Michelle? Is that honestly what’s bothering you?”

“Yeah,” I muttered, staring down at my laptop. The excuse was weak, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the full truth.

“Well, fuck them, then,” Minho said with a tilt of his head, forcing me to meet his gaze. He gave me a small, reassuring smile. “If anyone bothers you, just tell them to piss off.”

I nodded slowly, glancing up at him. “Yeah, okay,” I mumbled, offering a smile of my own, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes.

His grin faltered, and his gaze flickered between mine, searching. “Are you sure we’re alright?”

I nodded quickly, though I felt nothing but doubt about it. “Yeah, we’re fine, Min,” I replied, trying to sound convincing. “I’ve just been stressed out with some other stuff, it’s not you.”

“Other stuff?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. “Like what?”

I swallowed hard, my jaw tightening, but I quickly regained my composure. I hadn’t wanted to bring it up, but I couldn’t tell him such an outright lie. “There’s a showcase tonight. You should come,” I said, attempting to be casual even though my stomach twisted.

Minho’s face lit up, and he grinned down at me. “Seriously? That sounds awesome, Mischa. Text me the details.”

I forced a smile, but it felt stiff. “Yeah, I will. I need to practice first, though, so…” I trailed off, hoping he’d take the hint.

He blinked in surprise. “Oh, right. I’ll get out of your way then.” He walked toward the door, flashing me another smile as he opened it. “See you tonight, then?”

“See you,” I confirmed, the words feeling strange in my mouth.

As soon as the door clicked shut, I dropped my laptop onto my bed and flopped down beside it, groaning. A flutter of excitement filled my chest at the thought of him coming to support me, but I quickly brushed it aside. I had a show to prepare for.

With a sigh, I picked myself up and gathered my things to practice.

. . .

I stood off to the side of the stage in the assembly room, watching as a stream of students and faculty trickled in. It wasn’t a massive crowd — maybe fifty people — but it was enough to make my stomach somersault with nerves.

My gaze softened as Will walked in, a small bouquet in hand, his other tucked casually in his pocket. The moment he spotted me, he lifted his hand in a subtle wave, grinning. A strange flutter stirred in my chest — one I’d realized I’d only ever felt with Minho before.

Familiar faces continued to appear: Yuri and Juliana chatting quietly, Professor Lee and Finnerty taking their places at the side of the room, and even Professor Reiko, who had come at my mention. Seeing them settled some of my unease. I made a mental note to find Reiko and the girls afterward to thank them for coming.

The atmosphere was relaxed, with snacks and drinks lining the walls of the room, creating an easygoing hum of conversation. But as Eunice, the host for the evening, stepped onto the stage to address the audience, the chatter dimmed out.

Before heading backstage, I swept one last glance around the room, searching for Minho. Nothing. My gut twisted slightly, my gaze dipping to the floor as I hurried off, nearly fumbling my guitar in my hands.

Backstage, I absentmindedly tuned my instrument, making up a million excuses for Minho’s absence. Maybe he was running late. Maybe I just hadn’t seen him in the crowd. Or, most likely, maybe I was overreacting.

Eunice launched into her solo karaoke performance — Dynamite —and I ran through my song one last time, forcing myself to focus. After Eunice came Blake, then Dae, and then finally, me. 

Dae finished his Backstreet Boys cover to a wave of applause, his face lit with excitement as he came backstage. He spotted me and grinned, giving my shoulder a quick squeeze. “You’re gonna kill it, Michelle!”

I let out a soft laugh, awkwardly returning his side hug while navigating around my guitar. “Thanks, Dae Bae. Let’s hope you’re right. You did great!”

He nudged me playfully toward the stage, and I flashed him a smile over my shoulder as I stepped forward. The dimmed lights shielded me from being entirely blinded, which I was grateful for. A quick scan of the audience revealed Stella, to my confusion — but still no Minho. My phone buzzed in my pocket. As the sound tech adjusted my guitar input, I took a quick glance. Sorry, Kitty needs me. Will make it up to you! xx

Of course. Of course, he chose her. He always chose her — even last semester when I would need him for something, Kitty came first. When would I learn? I bit the inside of my cheek, willing away the sting of disappointment. The sound guy gave me a thumbs-up, and I plastered on a smile, pushing the hurt deep, deep down.

I took a breath and started strumming.

The first few notes were tentative, my voice wavering slightly, but as the song went on, I let the music take over, pouring every ounce of frustration, hurt, and longing into the melody. The emotions cracked through my voice, vocals becoming raw.

And when I hit the chorus, it all came crashing down. "Crawling back to you… never thought of calling when you had a few? ‘Cause I always do…"

The lyrics gutted me in ways I hadn’t expected. My throat tightened, and my eyes burned, but I kept going, voice steady even as the weight of it all settled in my chest. As I hummed the final few notes, my breath caught slightly, but I pushed through, strumming the last chord. A hush lingered in the air for a fraction of a second before the applause began. I lifted my gaze and caught sight of Professor Lee. He gave me a small nod, the barest hint of a smile — an acknowledgment that was surprising enough to make me smile back despite myself.

I quickly made my way offstage, slipping into the backroom as the next performer took over. But I didn’t stick around to hear the rest. I had no interest in lingering, no interest in pretending I was fine. Why was such a simple cancellation impacting me this much? It wasn’t like I was in love or something. All I wanted was to go back to my dorm, shut the door, and be alone.

I walked briskly out of the backroom, head down — only to nearly collide with someone. I blinked up at the familiar pair of blue eyes staring down at me. Will. He looked uncharacteristically hesitant, shifting on his feet before awkwardly shoving the bouquet into my arms. His usual nonchalance was nowhere to be seen.

“I got you these for your performance, Huang,” he mumbled, avoiding my gaze as his fingers lingered on the bouquet’s wrapping.

I inhaled the scent of the plum blossoms, my grip tightening slightly around the stems. Despite the whirlwind of emotions from the night, I felt some of the tension in my chest ease.

“Thank you,” I murmured against the flowers, voice softer now. “They’re really pretty.”

Will studied me carefully, his expression unreadable before a small frown tugged at his lips. “Are you okay? That performance seemed a bit… heartfelt.”

I hesitated, then shrugged, offering him a genuine smile — the first real one I’d given all night. “I am now.”

A flicker of understanding passed through his eyes. He exhaled, his posture relaxing slightly. “Noticed your boyfriend wasn’t here,” he added quietly, glancing at me.

I met his gaze, my grip still light on the bouquet. “You are, though,” I said softly.

A lopsided grin broke across his face, and in an easy motion, he slung an arm around my shoulders. “Well then,” he drawled. “Let’s get a girl some celebratory dessert or something.”

It was as if the boy knew exactly what it took to ease my mind and heart of anything. If I had something so great next to me, what was I doing moping over someone who would never want me back?