SIEMPRE SOLO, NINOS y NINAS
a valentine's day gift. for myself.
note: when i wrote this, i had the idea of the world filtering out everything but donghae in hyoyeon's eyes while she listened to music.
“I want to sing this to her tomorrow,” Donghae says, gripping the end of his guitar, after his shaky hands stop committing several attempts to jump off the deep end. Hyoyeon reaches out to touch the sweat on the handle. She was there with him when he first bought it at the store, doling out her change when he didn’t want to break his last remaining dollar. When he was handed back the guitar and the receipt with no annoying leftover pennies, he promised that she’d be the first to listen to his hand-crafted songs. She hadn’t asked for it, but his hand stuffed the receipt in her jeans.
“This is our contract.” And after that, he started pushing his 50-page spiral to her during class and hiding under her bed with his guitar. She never came around to asking her parents to reseal the window.
“Promise me you won’t laugh,” he says.
“I won’t.”
He messes with the strings, and it makes a weird sort of sound, something he doesn’t bother checking because he’s staring straight at her.
“Because if you laugh, I know it’s bad.”
“I’m telling you, I won’t laugh.”
The truth is, his songs aren’t that bad. He’s got some voice, and his songs don’t promote sex and drugs and what to do with an unplanned baby. No, he sings about-where-to-go-on-Valentine’s-Day-so-that-he-can-get-the-best-gift-and-be-the-best-boyfriend-while-being-original-at-the-same-time, and stuff like that. Stuff she doesn’t care about. Stuff she tries not to care about.
Hyoyeon strains herself by wrinkling her nose and sticking her tongue out when he finishes.
“It’s horrible.”
He drops the guitar. “Really?”
“I’m just kidding. She’ll like it. She’ll definitely like it.”
“You’re not lying?”
“Why would I lie?” she laughs. And he laughs. And she reaches over to pick up his guitar. And she touches where his hand is, because it makes ultimate sense to pick it up himself. And he leans over until their noses bump in a non-painful way, and holds the back of her head until she leans into the kiss.
They push each other off.
“Let’s just forget about this,” she says.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “We’d be a bad idea anyway.”
He doesn’t stay very long after that, and they don’t talk much. The only time conversation happens again is when he asks if her parents are downstairs, and Hyoyeon shakes her head. When she hears the door shut, she positions her body so that it isn’t facing the window and the shadows the sunset makes.
-
“This is a good song,” Donghae grins, slipping off his headphones. He traps it on Hyoyeon’s head and the blood flow in her head shortens.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
“I can’t hear you,” she mouths.
The used CD bin disappears. The employee with the hidden tattoo disappears. She keeps staring at him for the remainder of the time, with the love song blaring in her ears.
-
The next day, she finds the contract in her wallet. The folds and age it shows makes it easier to tear it up.
note: when i wrote this, i had the idea of the world filtering out everything but donghae in hyoyeon's eyes while she listened to music.
“I want to sing this to her tomorrow,” Donghae says, gripping the end of his guitar, after his shaky hands stop committing several attempts to jump off the deep end. Hyoyeon reaches out to touch the sweat on the handle. She was there with him when he first bought it at the store, doling out her change when he didn’t want to break his last remaining dollar. When he was handed back the guitar and the receipt with no annoying leftover pennies, he promised that she’d be the first to listen to his hand-crafted songs. She hadn’t asked for it, but his hand stuffed the receipt in her jeans.
“This is our contract.” And after that, he started pushing his 50-page spiral to her during class and hiding under her bed with his guitar. She never came around to asking her parents to reseal the window.
“Promise me you won’t laugh,” he says.
“I won’t.”
He messes with the strings, and it makes a weird sort of sound, something he doesn’t bother checking because he’s staring straight at her.
“Because if you laugh, I know it’s bad.”
“I’m telling you, I won’t laugh.”
The truth is, his songs aren’t that bad. He’s got some voice, and his songs don’t promote sex and drugs and what to do with an unplanned baby. No, he sings about-where-to-go-on-Valentine’s-Day-so-that-he-can-get-the-best-gift-and-be-the-best-boyfriend-while-being-original-at-the-same-time, and stuff like that. Stuff she doesn’t care about. Stuff she tries not to care about.
Hyoyeon strains herself by wrinkling her nose and sticking her tongue out when he finishes.
“It’s horrible.”
He drops the guitar. “Really?”
“I’m just kidding. She’ll like it. She’ll definitely like it.”
“You’re not lying?”
“Why would I lie?” she laughs. And he laughs. And she reaches over to pick up his guitar. And she touches where his hand is, because it makes ultimate sense to pick it up himself. And he leans over until their noses bump in a non-painful way, and holds the back of her head until she leans into the kiss.
They push each other off.
“Let’s just forget about this,” she says.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “We’d be a bad idea anyway.”
He doesn’t stay very long after that, and they don’t talk much. The only time conversation happens again is when he asks if her parents are downstairs, and Hyoyeon shakes her head. When she hears the door shut, she positions her body so that it isn’t facing the window and the shadows the sunset makes.
-
“This is a good song,” Donghae grins, slipping off his headphones. He traps it on Hyoyeon’s head and the blood flow in her head shortens.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
“I can’t hear you,” she mouths.
The used CD bin disappears. The employee with the hidden tattoo disappears. She keeps staring at him for the remainder of the time, with the love song blaring in her ears.
-
The next day, she finds the contract in her wallet. The folds and age it shows makes it easier to tear it up.