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Prompt: A silent child who loves to sing.
Seungyoon often worried about his son’s development. Ever since his wife passed, Dongmin had gradually stopped talking. Long-winded conversations had been reduced to head nods and simple grunts. The therapist wasn’t sure how long this would last, but reassured he’d return to normal with time. Hopefully. When Dongmin presented a permission slip to stay late for music class, Seungyoon assumed he was interested in playing an instrument. He himself liked to play the guitar and piano.
He was absolutely thrown when he approached the elementary’s music room and heard the most angelic little voice singing through the door. He opened the door and found his darling son standing beside you as you played a simple tune on the piano, a lullaby his mom used to sing him to sleep. His heart simultaneously broke and mended itself at the serene yet heartfelt expression on Dongmin’s face as the song came to a close.
You caught movement over your student’s shoulder. “Oh! Mr. Kang, I didn’t hear you come in.” You rose from your seat and put a hand on Dongmin’s shoulder with a reassuring squeeze.
His smile wavered when Dongmin avoided his gaze. “I thought I’d come see…I didn’t know.” Shame filled him. How had he not noticed? His son never carried an instrument case. He never touched the piano at home. He looked at the boy. “You have an amazing voice, Min.”
You grinned and looked at Dongmin. “See? It’s not just me. You really are talented!”
Dongmin glanced up at him, then hid his face in your long skirt. “I only know that song. Mom’s song.”
Seungyoon’s heart broke again. The way his little champ’s voice warbled, on the verge of tears, cut deep. He moved to comfort him but you were quicker, dropping to a knee and looking the boy in the eyes.
“That’s okay! No one said you have to know a lot of songs to be good at singing. If you ever get comfortable, you can always learn more! It’s your talent and you choose what you want to do with it. No pressure.” You looked at Seungyoon, eyes wide with an unspoken plea. “Right?”
For the first time in ages, butterflies filled his chest. The last time he’d had them, he’d gotten married shortly after. “Y-yeah! You should just have fun with it, sing what you want, as many times as you feel like it.”
Dongmin peered at him, skepticism written all over his face. Clearly, he hadn't done a good job of being supportive or emotionally available. He vowed to do better. When you stood up and gently guided the boy over, he made another, more selfish promise—to get to know you better.