Comfort

Sunlight eagerly spilled through the large windows and bathed the school lobby in a daffodil yellow when the afternoon decided lazily to arrive. It was empty now; the students were likely still in the school's cafeteria or the courtyard enjoying their lunch break that always seemed to go by too fast.

Indeed, there were only a few minutes left in the lunch period, too late to join the others. Chen An decided to go to orchestra practice early, idling by her time by practicing her violin solo as she usually did.

Patting down the pockets of her school uniform, she realized she had left the key to her instrument locker in her backpack and headed in the direction of the classroom to retrieve it.

The classroom looked as if it had been deserted midway through class; the jackets slung haphazardly over the chairs and the pencils strewn across the desks gave an impression of the students that had left them behind.

Chen An had expected the classroom to be empty, but to her surprise, Li Jun Jie sat at his desk, staring blankly at the open sketchbook in front of him.

As she approached, Li Jun Jie continued to look down at the sketchbook as if Chen An was an invisible ghost floating silently about the classroom. When she got close enough, Chen An looked curiously at the sketchbook page on display. It was blank, not even the faint outline of an erased line decorating its bareness. A pencil lay beside it, clearly untouched from the way it was carefully aligned parallel to the edge of the sketchbook.

Chen An hesitated, wanting to collect the key from her backpack and hurry away without Li Jun Jie noticing her presence was ever there. But, she then remembered her agreement and was afraid something was wrong with Li Jun Jie, who sat there mindlessly like a broken machine.

Waving her hand in front of his face, Li Jun Jie finally directed his attention toward Chen An, surprise replacing the blank expression that had adorned his face a moment prior.

"An An," he called nearly inaudibly as if he was still unsure whether or not Chen An was just a ghost. "When did you get here?"

"Just now, I'm here to get my key," Chen An responded, reaching for her backpack and forgetting altogether her prior resolve to check on Li Jun Jie's condition.

With the cold metal of the key weighing against her palm, Chen An turned to the door to leave but faced Li Jun Jie instead, the weight of her guilt of already breaking her agreement much heavier in her chest.

Stalling for a brief moment, Chen An finally asked him, "Are you okay?"

Li Jun Jie studied her with his piercing gaze as though he was trying to read through her mixed expression. "Why do you ask?" he returned the question simply.

But, Chen An was used to his accusatory tone and began to defend herself before processing the intention behind his words. "I was just asking. If you're fine, I'll get out of your way, then."

Chen An strode briskly to the door, her fingers brushing its metal handle.

Before she could turn the handle, Li Jun Jie spoke quietly, "No."

Chen An turned to meet his eye, and for the first time since that night at the convenience store, she saw how tired Li Jun Jie looked, blue tinting his pale skin under his eyes and red veins crawling into his sight.

"What?" Chen An managed.

"I'm not okay," Li Jun Jie said, though he didn't seem to be speaking to her at all.

Unconsciously, Chen An had walked to his side. She placed a hand gently against his cheek and suddenly felt a burning heat beneath her fingers. "What's wrong? Should I bring you to the infirmary?" she asked. Just for good measure, she threw in, "I'm not going to bring you home this time if you faint again."

Li Jun Jie was silent, and Chen An shifted her gaze back to his eyes. His eyes seemed to say something to her then, but it was something Chen An could not decipher. After a moment, Li Jun Jie turned his head away. "Forget it. It's nothing."

"Chen An, you missed your cue again," Ms. Yun scolded her.

The other students were silent and shifted uncomfortably in their seats, unaccustomed to Chen An making a mistake, much less for the second time in one rehearsal.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Yun." Chen An bowed her head to stare at the cracked wood beneath her feet.

Ms. Yun rubbed her temples as if suddenly experiencing a migraine. "Okay, that's enough for your solo today. Let's move on to the end of the piece."

Chen An slowly lowered herself back to her seat. Lu Xi Xi, who occupied the second chair, looked at her pityingly and raised her eyebrows in concern.

Occupying her attention with flipping through the music, Chen An nodded without meeting her eye, preparing to play the next passage.

Lu Xi Xi reluctantly looked away, turning to the score on the shared stand in front of them.

The orchestra rehearsal concluded as normal, but the students were hesitant to talk amongst themselves, feeling the suffocating tension that laced through the room.

"Chen An, can I speak with you privately?" Ms. Yun asked emotionlessly.

Whispers spread through the students, mimicking the deafening whirr of a wasp's hive, and Chen An resisted the urge to press her hands against her ears like a child.

She nodded and followed Ms. Yun out of the room obediently. The dark walkway behind the performance stage seemed like an endless cavern, and Chen An was nearly afraid that she would be left here alone and would never find the way out.

"Are you okay, Chen An?" Ms. Yun asked in a motherly tone.

It was a question Chen An had asked many times but not one she heard often. Chen An felt a knot rising in her throat but suppressed it before it reached the surface. "I'm fine, Ms. Yun. I was just a little distracted today. It won't happen again."

"That's not what I'm asking about, Chen An." Ms. Yun waited for Chen An to meet her eye. "Are you okay?" she repeated.

Chen An tried to assure her, but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Ms. Yun stepped closer to the girl and cupped Chen An's face, gently wiping away the tears she didn't know had fallen.

"It's okay to be overwhelmed," Ms. Yun soothed her. "I'm never angry with you, Chen An. You practice harder than anyone else in the orchestra. But, I am worried for you. Senior year is a difficult time. If you ever need a break from violin, you have to tell me."

Chen An could only nod, the hot tears in her throat stealing away her voice.

That night, Chen An practiced for hours and hours in her bedroom, writing notes and erasing them again over the same passage in her solo where she had made a mistake during rehearsal. As she picked up her bow again, the sound of something hitting her window interrupted her before she could set it on the strings.

Placing her violin down gingerly on her bed, she pushed open the curtains to investigate, a small ball of crumpled paper hitting the glass in front of Chen An's eyes.

A sheepish Li Jun Jie leaned out of his open window, his hand poised mid-toss. He quickly hid the balled up paper behind his back, though his stare remained guilty.

Chen An opened her window, glaring at Li Jun Jie as she propped herself up on the ledge. "I know you did it," she shouted over the space between their buildings, though she doubted he could hear her over the noise of distant traffic.

Li Jun Jie said nothing, retreating back into his bedroom to search for something.

As Chen An was about to close the window again, a paper ball sailed into her room, landing gracelessly with a thud on her carpet.

She looked at Li Jun Jie with a raised eyebrow, about to threaten to report his devious behavior to his mother.

Li Jun Jie pointed into her room, gesturing at her to flatten out the paper.

Picking up the ball, still suspicious, Chen An slowly straightened the creases, her eyes met a message scrawled onto the page. "You've been practicing since you got home. If you're going to continue all night, you should take a break at least."

Chen An retrieved the pencil on her music stand, writing back to him. "Why do you care?"

Winding up, she tossed the paper back to Li Jun Jie, who returned it almost immediately. "It's too loud."

His neat handwriting seemed to mock her, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. Scribbling onto the page, she wrote a last message before throwing it back a little harder than she intended.

The paper hit Li Jun Jie squarely in the face, and Chen An had to suppress her laugh. He opened the note to find a large word written over all of the previous correspondences. "Dummy."

Li Jun Jie laughed, the faint tail of the melodious sound reaching Chen An's bedroom. She pulled her curtains closed with a resolute huff but left her window open for the rest of the night.