[story] she, she gives him a song
author: kagami shin (misao_kunoichi)
email: fragmentedblue [at] gmail.com
I must love a girl
Who belongs to this world.
I must find a boy
Who belongs to this world.
I must find a boy
Under this moonlight
Winding and flowing gently.
My best friend Caleb is a werewolf, and he's in love with me. Or, at the very least, in "serious like," as he told me when I asked him how he could possibly be serious.
My parents don't know about him. My mom is currently extricating herself from her third marriage, too busy to notice anything going on with me. My dad is living in Japan, and my mom frowns if I so much as mention his name, so I barely talk to him.
I don't want to tell anybody about Caleb, anyway. I don't want to tell them that when he comes over, he spends hours pulling out the CDs on my shelf and listening to them on my old and battered Walkman. I don't want to tell them how he lies next to me in bed when my mom and Ricky start fighting, even when he's in his dog form. I don't want to tell them that I do feel the same way, but that I'm afraid: because these days, he's slipping into his wolf form far too easily; and it's getting harder and harder for him to come back.
My dad would have believed me if I told him about Caleb. He used to tell me fairytales. This was before the fights with Mom started. He would sit in bed with me, one arm around my shoulder, and tell me about princes who turned into swans and forgotten princesses who became queens.
My mom doesn't believe in fairytales. "Fairytales," she always says when anybody mentions them. "Who can survive on those?"
And it was true that after my dad left, fairytales did nothing to pay the bills or help my mom keep her job. So I hid the princes and princesses and lifelong romances away from my mom and tried to tell myself that she was right. But somehow, I couldn't quite believe it.
I'm at Caleb's house when I first see him changing into a wolf. He doubles over his desk, spasms running through his body.
"Caleb?" I say, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Caleb, what's wrong? Do you want me to call an ambulance?"
He doesn't look at me, but he pushes my hand away. "No," he gasps. "Just--just leave. You need to leave."
"No! You're hurting and I'm going to go call for help."
I start for the door, but he grabs my hand and says, "Don't do that."
I look down at his hand and see that his fingernails have grown twice their normal length, curved and pointed like claws. I yank my hand free on instinct, and he doesn't stop me. I can leave, I know. Maybe he wants that. But I don't. I touch his hand gingerly, then clasp it in mine. "Caleb, what's going on?"
"You have to leave," he whispers.
"You can't make me."
"Alicia--"
"You've never been able to make me do anything. Don't start now."
He looks up at me, finally, and I can see that his eyes are yellow. "Alicia," he says, before another shudder runs through his body. He grips my hand more tightly.
I pretend that it doesn't frighten me to look him in the eyes as I squeeze his hand back and say, "I'm here."
Caleb tries to avoid me after that day. I leave him voicemails on his cell phone. "Are you going to avoid me forever?" "Pick up the phone, Caleb." "You can't just leave me hanging. If you don't want to be friends anymore, tell it to my face, damn it." But of course, what I really want is to see him again.
A week after I see him change, he comes over to my house. He stands in the doorway of my room, and I stand at the far end, looking at him.
"Can I come in?" he asks.
I look to the side, as if thinking about it. As if maybe I won't let him in. But finally, I say, "Yeah, sure," and hold my breath until he's inside.
Caleb tries to apologize for what I saw. I tell him it's all right, and that's when he says it. "I love you. I guess I thought if you saw me that way, there would never be a chance for… you know."
I stare at him. "Caleb, I--"
He looks so hopeful.
"Caleb, you know that it won't change the fact that we're friends. But - that's what we are. Friends."
"Things can change," Caleb says. "I thought you would freak out and just leave me when you saw me like that, but you didn't, so maybe--"
"A lot of things change," I say, "but not that. I'm sorry."
Caleb only sulks for a day after I tell him that I don't feel the same way. Then he starts talking to me again. Things are still awkward, and I wish they could go back to the way they used to be, before we both knew about Caleb's condition and his feelings.
Caleb still comes over to my house, and he's there when Mom and Ricky come back from a dinner date, in the middle of an argument so loud that even the neighbors down the street can hear them.
When I hear Mom and Ricky, my heart starts beating hard. It's an automatic reaction that happens every time I hear loud voices. It doesn't help when I think about what Mom told me earlier that day: "You know, sweetie, I don't think it's really working out between me and Ricky." Another failure. Another way things weren't meant to be.
Caleb puts the CDs back down and walks over to me. "Hey, are you okay?"
Caleb asks me that question often. Usually, I say I'm fine. But maybe it's because I already told such a big lie, saying I don't feel about him the same way he feels about me. Maybe I want to lean on him. So I say, "No. Not really," and go over to my bed and lie down.
Caleb sits down on the edge of the bed and puts a hand on my shoulder. For once, instead of waiting for him to offer his help, I reach out and take his hand. And a little of the awkwardness is eased, as Caleb strokes my hair and kisses my forehead, saying, "Don't worry. It'll be all right."
I ask Caleb when he first knew he was a werewolf.
"When I was five," Caleb says. "I turned into a wolf at dinner. It hurt so much, and I was so scared. I kept crying. My mom held my hand and told me it was all right.
"I miss her a lot. She and Dad were so happy together. I wish she was still alive. Maybe things would have changed, but at least she would have been here. Now, when I'm in the house with my dad, there's just - space."
I am pretty easy with music, unlike Caleb. I listen to mainstream pop and wannabe indie bands. Caleb says it hurts his ears to listen to them, but he'll try out my new CDs anyway, like the Summerwood one that I'm listening to while I look over Caleb's essay for English class.
"I haven't seen them on your shelf yet," he says, looking at the CD cover.
"They're a Korean band. Still kind of new."
"Can I listen? I mean, I won't understand the lyrics, but--"
"I have the translations," I say, and pull a piece of paper from underneath my pillow. Caleb raises an eyebrow. "What? I like reading them before I go to sleep." I hand the paper and headphones to Caleb. "Just try to read along," I say.
He slips the headphones on, and I switch back to the first track on the CD. I watch as he reads the lyrics slowly. I can hear the music in my head, and despite the paper under my pillow, I know the lyrics by heart.
But I knew all this was fleeting
so I walked back home to my empty bed
and nobody ever knew
who broke your window.
So fix that broken window
build glass between the light and me again
know that this love isn't a forever love.
But this song?
This song I sing, this song you hear.
This song is the love song of a thousand years.
Caleb pauses the CD when the first song finishes. "This song is as depressing as you are," he says.
"How am I depressing?" I ask, offended.
"You don't believe in love."
"I believe in love. I just don't think it lasts."
"If you don't believe it can last, then you don't believe it exists," Caleb says, and pulls off the headphones, handing them to me.
I take the headphones and roll onto my side, looking at him. I want to ask him how long he thinks love can last. I want to ask him how long this can last, him and me, until something has to change. But the thought scares me too much, so I back away from it, and take the paper from his hand. "I want to believe it exists," I say, quietly, and fold the paper up, putting it away again.
I wasn't surprised when my mom told me that she and Dad were going to get divorced. I'd seen it coming, and it was a relief, almost. I didn't want to stay awake listening to their fights anymore. It just wasn't working out. That's what my mom said: "It just wasn't working out."
"That's the way things go sometimes, honey," she said. "People change. Relationships change. You can't expect things to last."
I believed that, and it was okay. But at night, lying in bed, this idea was suddenly terrifying. If nothing lasted, if nothing was permanent, then what could I trust? What could I hold onto?
My mom is arguing with Ricky again when I come home from school. They're in the kitchen this time, and I can hear everything they say.
"Why can't you just admit--"
"You never say you're wrong--"
"Why is the blame on me? Why is it always on me?"
"Well, what about my feelings? You never--"
I love Caleb, and this--these familiar words--is what might happen to us if we're together. And before that, even, he might lose complete control over his body. I want to kiss him. I want to hold his hand and hear his voice next to my ear at night. I'm afraid that even if I manage to have that for a little while, it'll disappear.
But the thought of nothing scares me even more than uncertainty. Maybe things will change, but there will have been something, not just space.
I finger my car keys, listen to my mom and Ricky for a few more seconds, and walk out the door again.
I go to Caleb's house. His dad lets me in. He nods at me, and I wonder if he knows that I've seen Caleb change, that there are three of us in this together again, even if one of us is different.
Caleb is lying on his bed, reading one of the manga volumes that he keeps piled by his bed.
"Don't knock me about sappy romance stories," he says without looking up from the manga. "I don't read them."
"You so do, but when have I ever judged you for that?" I walk over to the bed and nudge him aside. "Move. I need to lie down."
He rolls over and puts the manga down. "Your mom and Ricky are fighting again?"
"Yeah."
Caleb already knows what the answer will be if he asks "Are you okay?" So he doesn't say anything else
"Don't turn into a wolf," I tell him, leaning my head on his shoulder. "I don't want fur in my mouth."
"I'll try not to," he says. "It's…" He pauses, and I know he's thinking about whether he should tell me what he's thinking.
I say, "It's too late to hold back, Caleb."
He sighs. "It's getting harder to go back to this body, and the changes happen without my control more often."
"Oh." My heart hurts. I'm almost too afraid to say the next words, but I force myself to. "Caleb. You know how you said you're in serious like with me?"
"Yeah," Caleb says. He squeezes my hand.
I turn my face and look at him. "I think maybe… I mean, I know that I'm in serious like with you, too."
Caleb stares at me. Then he says, "Are you sure?"
"As much as I'll ever be," I say, and after a moment, he nods, face tilting close to mine.
I don't say anything. Instead, I close my eyes and wait for our lips to meet.
My mom and dad used to be happy. When I think about this, it's as if I'm thinking about another family. But they were. In old family pictures, they're always smiling. I remember when I was six, and they took me to the beach. They turned their backs for a minute and I wandered off, exploring the beach on my own.
It was an hour before a lifeguard found me and brought me back to my parents. My mom's eyes were red, but she smiled as she hugged me close to her. My dad wrapped an arm around both of us and kissed the top of my head. I felt as if all three of us were connected, loved and in love intertwined.
If I had started wondering if this would last back then, I would have faltered, uncertain and scared. But I didn't know to question whether things would last when I was six. I simply assumed that they would, and that was enough.
Caleb doesn't like to sleep these days. There are dark circles under his eyes, veined and purple. When he sleeps, he usually slips into his wolf form without noticing, and it takes him an hour, at least, to turn back into a boy. I can always see the tired strain in his face when he's just changed back.
We're lying in my bed, listening to Summerwood together, when a shudder runs through his body. "I'm changing," he says quietly, and I take his hand.
There's nothing I can do to prevent this. But Caleb says it helps when he can hear my voice, or music, or anything that reminds him of being human. It helps him fight the change, and sometimes, very rarely, he manages to stay a boy. So I hold his hand tightly and whisper the lyrics of Summerwood's song to him: This song I sing, this song you hear. This song is the love song of a thousand years.
the end
Author's notes: The title of this story is adapted from the last line of Vivian Hsu's song "Ta Ta." The verses at the beginning were found in the first few pages of the manhwa Bride of the Water God.
email: fragmentedblue [at] gmail.com
I must love a girl
Who belongs to this world.
I must find a boy
Who belongs to this world.
I must find a boy
Under this moonlight
Winding and flowing gently.
My best friend Caleb is a werewolf, and he's in love with me. Or, at the very least, in "serious like," as he told me when I asked him how he could possibly be serious.
My parents don't know about him. My mom is currently extricating herself from her third marriage, too busy to notice anything going on with me. My dad is living in Japan, and my mom frowns if I so much as mention his name, so I barely talk to him.
I don't want to tell anybody about Caleb, anyway. I don't want to tell them that when he comes over, he spends hours pulling out the CDs on my shelf and listening to them on my old and battered Walkman. I don't want to tell them how he lies next to me in bed when my mom and Ricky start fighting, even when he's in his dog form. I don't want to tell them that I do feel the same way, but that I'm afraid: because these days, he's slipping into his wolf form far too easily; and it's getting harder and harder for him to come back.
My dad would have believed me if I told him about Caleb. He used to tell me fairytales. This was before the fights with Mom started. He would sit in bed with me, one arm around my shoulder, and tell me about princes who turned into swans and forgotten princesses who became queens.
My mom doesn't believe in fairytales. "Fairytales," she always says when anybody mentions them. "Who can survive on those?"
And it was true that after my dad left, fairytales did nothing to pay the bills or help my mom keep her job. So I hid the princes and princesses and lifelong romances away from my mom and tried to tell myself that she was right. But somehow, I couldn't quite believe it.
I'm at Caleb's house when I first see him changing into a wolf. He doubles over his desk, spasms running through his body.
"Caleb?" I say, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Caleb, what's wrong? Do you want me to call an ambulance?"
He doesn't look at me, but he pushes my hand away. "No," he gasps. "Just--just leave. You need to leave."
"No! You're hurting and I'm going to go call for help."
I start for the door, but he grabs my hand and says, "Don't do that."
I look down at his hand and see that his fingernails have grown twice their normal length, curved and pointed like claws. I yank my hand free on instinct, and he doesn't stop me. I can leave, I know. Maybe he wants that. But I don't. I touch his hand gingerly, then clasp it in mine. "Caleb, what's going on?"
"You have to leave," he whispers.
"You can't make me."
"Alicia--"
"You've never been able to make me do anything. Don't start now."
He looks up at me, finally, and I can see that his eyes are yellow. "Alicia," he says, before another shudder runs through his body. He grips my hand more tightly.
I pretend that it doesn't frighten me to look him in the eyes as I squeeze his hand back and say, "I'm here."
Caleb tries to avoid me after that day. I leave him voicemails on his cell phone. "Are you going to avoid me forever?" "Pick up the phone, Caleb." "You can't just leave me hanging. If you don't want to be friends anymore, tell it to my face, damn it." But of course, what I really want is to see him again.
A week after I see him change, he comes over to my house. He stands in the doorway of my room, and I stand at the far end, looking at him.
"Can I come in?" he asks.
I look to the side, as if thinking about it. As if maybe I won't let him in. But finally, I say, "Yeah, sure," and hold my breath until he's inside.
Caleb tries to apologize for what I saw. I tell him it's all right, and that's when he says it. "I love you. I guess I thought if you saw me that way, there would never be a chance for… you know."
I stare at him. "Caleb, I--"
He looks so hopeful.
"Caleb, you know that it won't change the fact that we're friends. But - that's what we are. Friends."
"Things can change," Caleb says. "I thought you would freak out and just leave me when you saw me like that, but you didn't, so maybe--"
"A lot of things change," I say, "but not that. I'm sorry."
Caleb only sulks for a day after I tell him that I don't feel the same way. Then he starts talking to me again. Things are still awkward, and I wish they could go back to the way they used to be, before we both knew about Caleb's condition and his feelings.
Caleb still comes over to my house, and he's there when Mom and Ricky come back from a dinner date, in the middle of an argument so loud that even the neighbors down the street can hear them.
When I hear Mom and Ricky, my heart starts beating hard. It's an automatic reaction that happens every time I hear loud voices. It doesn't help when I think about what Mom told me earlier that day: "You know, sweetie, I don't think it's really working out between me and Ricky." Another failure. Another way things weren't meant to be.
Caleb puts the CDs back down and walks over to me. "Hey, are you okay?"
Caleb asks me that question often. Usually, I say I'm fine. But maybe it's because I already told such a big lie, saying I don't feel about him the same way he feels about me. Maybe I want to lean on him. So I say, "No. Not really," and go over to my bed and lie down.
Caleb sits down on the edge of the bed and puts a hand on my shoulder. For once, instead of waiting for him to offer his help, I reach out and take his hand. And a little of the awkwardness is eased, as Caleb strokes my hair and kisses my forehead, saying, "Don't worry. It'll be all right."
I ask Caleb when he first knew he was a werewolf.
"When I was five," Caleb says. "I turned into a wolf at dinner. It hurt so much, and I was so scared. I kept crying. My mom held my hand and told me it was all right.
"I miss her a lot. She and Dad were so happy together. I wish she was still alive. Maybe things would have changed, but at least she would have been here. Now, when I'm in the house with my dad, there's just - space."
I am pretty easy with music, unlike Caleb. I listen to mainstream pop and wannabe indie bands. Caleb says it hurts his ears to listen to them, but he'll try out my new CDs anyway, like the Summerwood one that I'm listening to while I look over Caleb's essay for English class.
"I haven't seen them on your shelf yet," he says, looking at the CD cover.
"They're a Korean band. Still kind of new."
"Can I listen? I mean, I won't understand the lyrics, but--"
"I have the translations," I say, and pull a piece of paper from underneath my pillow. Caleb raises an eyebrow. "What? I like reading them before I go to sleep." I hand the paper and headphones to Caleb. "Just try to read along," I say.
He slips the headphones on, and I switch back to the first track on the CD. I watch as he reads the lyrics slowly. I can hear the music in my head, and despite the paper under my pillow, I know the lyrics by heart.
But I knew all this was fleeting
so I walked back home to my empty bed
and nobody ever knew
who broke your window.
So fix that broken window
build glass between the light and me again
know that this love isn't a forever love.
But this song?
This song I sing, this song you hear.
This song is the love song of a thousand years.
Caleb pauses the CD when the first song finishes. "This song is as depressing as you are," he says.
"How am I depressing?" I ask, offended.
"You don't believe in love."
"I believe in love. I just don't think it lasts."
"If you don't believe it can last, then you don't believe it exists," Caleb says, and pulls off the headphones, handing them to me.
I take the headphones and roll onto my side, looking at him. I want to ask him how long he thinks love can last. I want to ask him how long this can last, him and me, until something has to change. But the thought scares me too much, so I back away from it, and take the paper from his hand. "I want to believe it exists," I say, quietly, and fold the paper up, putting it away again.
I wasn't surprised when my mom told me that she and Dad were going to get divorced. I'd seen it coming, and it was a relief, almost. I didn't want to stay awake listening to their fights anymore. It just wasn't working out. That's what my mom said: "It just wasn't working out."
"That's the way things go sometimes, honey," she said. "People change. Relationships change. You can't expect things to last."
I believed that, and it was okay. But at night, lying in bed, this idea was suddenly terrifying. If nothing lasted, if nothing was permanent, then what could I trust? What could I hold onto?
My mom is arguing with Ricky again when I come home from school. They're in the kitchen this time, and I can hear everything they say.
"Why can't you just admit--"
"You never say you're wrong--"
"Why is the blame on me? Why is it always on me?"
"Well, what about my feelings? You never--"
I love Caleb, and this--these familiar words--is what might happen to us if we're together. And before that, even, he might lose complete control over his body. I want to kiss him. I want to hold his hand and hear his voice next to my ear at night. I'm afraid that even if I manage to have that for a little while, it'll disappear.
But the thought of nothing scares me even more than uncertainty. Maybe things will change, but there will have been something, not just space.
I finger my car keys, listen to my mom and Ricky for a few more seconds, and walk out the door again.
I go to Caleb's house. His dad lets me in. He nods at me, and I wonder if he knows that I've seen Caleb change, that there are three of us in this together again, even if one of us is different.
Caleb is lying on his bed, reading one of the manga volumes that he keeps piled by his bed.
"Don't knock me about sappy romance stories," he says without looking up from the manga. "I don't read them."
"You so do, but when have I ever judged you for that?" I walk over to the bed and nudge him aside. "Move. I need to lie down."
He rolls over and puts the manga down. "Your mom and Ricky are fighting again?"
"Yeah."
Caleb already knows what the answer will be if he asks "Are you okay?" So he doesn't say anything else
"Don't turn into a wolf," I tell him, leaning my head on his shoulder. "I don't want fur in my mouth."
"I'll try not to," he says. "It's…" He pauses, and I know he's thinking about whether he should tell me what he's thinking.
I say, "It's too late to hold back, Caleb."
He sighs. "It's getting harder to go back to this body, and the changes happen without my control more often."
"Oh." My heart hurts. I'm almost too afraid to say the next words, but I force myself to. "Caleb. You know how you said you're in serious like with me?"
"Yeah," Caleb says. He squeezes my hand.
I turn my face and look at him. "I think maybe… I mean, I know that I'm in serious like with you, too."
Caleb stares at me. Then he says, "Are you sure?"
"As much as I'll ever be," I say, and after a moment, he nods, face tilting close to mine.
I don't say anything. Instead, I close my eyes and wait for our lips to meet.
My mom and dad used to be happy. When I think about this, it's as if I'm thinking about another family. But they were. In old family pictures, they're always smiling. I remember when I was six, and they took me to the beach. They turned their backs for a minute and I wandered off, exploring the beach on my own.
It was an hour before a lifeguard found me and brought me back to my parents. My mom's eyes were red, but she smiled as she hugged me close to her. My dad wrapped an arm around both of us and kissed the top of my head. I felt as if all three of us were connected, loved and in love intertwined.
If I had started wondering if this would last back then, I would have faltered, uncertain and scared. But I didn't know to question whether things would last when I was six. I simply assumed that they would, and that was enough.
Caleb doesn't like to sleep these days. There are dark circles under his eyes, veined and purple. When he sleeps, he usually slips into his wolf form without noticing, and it takes him an hour, at least, to turn back into a boy. I can always see the tired strain in his face when he's just changed back.
We're lying in my bed, listening to Summerwood together, when a shudder runs through his body. "I'm changing," he says quietly, and I take his hand.
There's nothing I can do to prevent this. But Caleb says it helps when he can hear my voice, or music, or anything that reminds him of being human. It helps him fight the change, and sometimes, very rarely, he manages to stay a boy. So I hold his hand tightly and whisper the lyrics of Summerwood's song to him: This song I sing, this song you hear. This song is the love song of a thousand years.
the end
Author's notes: The title of this story is adapted from the last line of Vivian Hsu's song "Ta Ta." The verses at the beginning were found in the first few pages of the manhwa Bride of the Water God.