Round 16: A Song In Too High A Key To Sing (2/2)
Title: A Song In Too High A Key To Sing
Team: Future
Rating: M
Fandom: MBLAQ
Pairing: none
Summary: Sanghyun decides to reconnect with everyone.
Author's Note: (optional. You may thank betas, any significant people, but please refrain from including something that would reveal your identity)
Prompt Used: 2PM - Without U
What is it about human nature that makes us crave what's bad for us?
We become addicted to these painful memories, bad habits, awful people, abusive relationships and unfortunate circumstances... It's so easy to just move on. Get out. Be happy.
Yet all we know is the discomfort caused by these things. It's terrible, but it seems like our very natures keep us deeply entrenched in them, even though happiness is so close.
Maybe MBLAQ is one of those bad things that's so easy to get caught up in.
Byunghee attempted to run away from it, but after talking with him tonight, I'm sure he wants it back more than he lets on. Maybe even more than I do.
I just can't make up my mind.
One moment, it all looks like paradise, a way to escape the boredom and repitition that has swallowed my life. The next moment, I see it for the ferocious beast that it is and I no longer want any part of it.
I'd love a second chance at fame... but it's like a drug that would only weaken me, destroy me, even if it makes me feel good for a few precious moments.
Perhaps making such an easily avoidable mistake is part of being human?
Or, more likely, resisting such mistakes is what being human is all about.
Either way, I feel like my brain can't process this. I can't figure out what to do next, who to talk to next, where to go next... It's strange, because I can see my goals as clear as day, my destination is right within view... but it's the path that is obscured. Putting one foot in front of the other, such a simple task, is something I can't wrap my head around.
It's like a song in too high a key to sing.
You know all the words, you know every nuance in the melody, every changing rhythm... but when you open your mouth, you just can't do it... it's beyond your limits. No amount of practice or straining will get the job done.
You're just forced to play it in your head over and over, unable to do anything else because even your best is not good enough.
The entire night slipped by right under our noses.
Before Byunghee and I even noticed, dawn was banishing the night and the city was coming alive with the colors of sunlight.
In the hours we'd walked the streets and danced in clubs, we'd silently agreed to go to the southern coast.
I went home and he went home, but just as the sun was peeping over the horizon, he showed up in the parking lot outside my apartment, a suitcase packed for an overnight trip.
My suitcase was already in the trunk of the car.
We got in and, wordlessly, made our way to the coast.
Towards our songs.
Towards our Seungho.
"Thank you." I said when the silence in the car became too much even for me.
"I want to do this." Byunghee said, eyes focused on the city outside the window. Traffic and buildings and clouds all whirled past us in a kaleidoscope of colors.
I focused on the road, my grip on the steering wheel, the vibration of the car as the wheels turned over the asphalt.
"There are all of these sayings about letting go of the past..." Byunghee continued, voice silky and soft. "...but is it really so terrible to hold on? To keep fighting for something you once had?"
I stayed quiet, unsure of what to say.
Earlier, beneath the black lights of the club, it was Byunghee who told me that we should create an imaginary past if it meant forgetting our real ones.
"You think you're over it." He went on. "You think you've gotten past such a roadblock and that you're invincible and can handle any future hardship... but then you start thinking again, start doubting... and all of a sudden you're caught up in a whirlwind. You don't know which way is up, and that impenetrable wall you built up comes tumbling down."
"Sorry." I said. "I didn't mean to cause-"
"It's alright." He interrupted. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him turn to look at me. "Maybe I'm better off without those walls." He sighed, one of relief, like he'd just chucked the weight of the world from his shoulders. "I need to stop treating my past like it's something dangerous."
We drove in silence again, but this time it was because the power of his words rendered us both speechless.
We were hardly completely out of Seoul when Byunghee dozed off, but my phone rang. It was Sandara.
"Remember when you said you wanted to throw a party?" She asked.
"Yeah." I muttered.
"How about we make my party and your party the same thing?" She suggested.
"Wouldn't that be counter-productive? I just want all five of us in one place again." I don't want it to be some public execution, a brutal playground for you and your idea of fun. I wanted to say this so badly, but I didn't have the spine to stand up to her.
"That's why we should just throw one big party. Have everyone be there. It'll be glorious." Sandara squealed in excitement, the sound like a drill straight into my ears. She continued on, but I tuned her out.
I didn't want to do it. The party, I mean.
As wretched as Joon's habit was, as grand as his party fouls, I just wanted to protect him.
He'd earned a terrible reputation, everyone spoke badly of him, spat venom in his direction, but I just wanted to stand by his side.
He was family.
...but so was Sandara.
They were both wrong. They both had faults and flaws.
What should I do?
I turned to Byunghee, as if expecting him to give me some type of hint or clue as he dreamed, but his face remained still except the slightest twitch of his lips.
"Just let him do what he wants to do." I said.
"Huh?" Sandara asked, confused. I'd interrupted her with a sudden outburst.
"Joon. Just let him have his fun."
Sandara was quiet so long that I thought she'd hung up on me. "That's so unlike you, Sanghyun." She muttered, but I couldn't tell if she was angry or impressed. "I just want to have a little fun, a little revenge for all the girls that Joon played... being nice to them to get close to their boyfriends."
"I get that." I said, although I didn't really.
"Remember, Joon is a bitch." She said.
Joon is a bitch.
The line that started it all.
"Does it matter?" I asked.
"Of course it matters." My sister hissed. "He's fucked with us all. He deserves what's coming to him."
This was a losing battle. Neither of us would give up, neither of us would surrender. If I backed off now, maybe she'd cool off, realize how damaging this could be, not just for Joon but for all of us. Maybe she'd stop her plans.
If I kept up the argument, though, I'd only anger her, make her go through with it out of spite, out of menace.
"Okay, fine. Do what you want." I said quickly. "Look, I'm a bit busy. I'll call you back later." Even as she yelled my name, I hung up on her.
Not even five seconds later, she was calling me again. I sent her call straight to voicemail.
She called one more time, then sent several text messages, but I didn't read any of them.
Eventually she let me be, but I know this wasn't the end.
I made a decision. I had to tell Joon. I had to warn him.
Thank goodness he answered.
"Do you know what people are saying about you?" I asked him.
"That I'm a bitch?" He wondered, not sounding the least bit surprised.
"You know?"
"Of course I do. Word gets around, Sanghyun. In fact, I'm shocked it took this long for us to be having this conversation."
"Why do you do it?" I had to know. "For fun?"
"Because I'm bored." Joon replied, so calm and casual that I was certain he'd explained this time and time again. "Because it's a cheap thrill."
"That's all?" I asked. I had expected a long, drawn out story, not just a few sentences.
Perhaps more things in life are just as simple. Perhaps it's just our own thoughts that complicate the meaning behind our actions.
"I do it because it feels good to be paid attention to. It may not be the best kind of attention, but at least I'm still talked about. It's always fun to see guys stiffen up when I come into the room, like I'm some foul beast they have to fight against." He laughed. "It feels great to have that kind of power over people."
To be honest, I was confused.
Why would anyone willingly make people hate them? Who would want to stir up drama and cause problems? How self-destructive is that?
Then again, the entertainment business is probably the most self-destructive one out there. How often do you hear about rehab, overdoses, suicides and divorces in the tabloids?
"Let me guess, you hate me, too?" Joon asked honestly.
"No. I just wanted to warn you. Sandara knows you don't really get drunk. She's going to expose you at the next party she throws."
"Well, that's interesting." He said, speaking of it like it was the least important thing in the world.
This confounded me. How could he be so calm about this?
"It's alright, Sanghyun. I can handle myself." With that, he hung up.
I was so stunned that I held the phone up to my ear long after he'd disconnected.
Eventually, I was able to snap out of it.
He wanted this.
He wanted the humiliation, the hate.
This was what he was addicted to.
Since he couldn't sing the song, he figured he might as well completely ruin it.
The closer we got to the beach, the darker the clouds in the sky became until it was obvious we were driving into bad weather. I hadn't even thought to check the weather forecast.
As the world darkened with the approach of a storm, my doubt seemed to well up in me.
Was I doing the right thing?
Would stirring things up from my past be a help or a hindrance?
Can going through all of this trouble really sate my need for closure?
There was a time where the temptation to turn the car around were so great that I nearly took an exit before coming to my senses and swerving back onto the highway.
The sudden movement of the vehicle startled Byunghee out of his nap. He blinked rapidly, yawned and stretched, then he seemed to remember where he was. "How far out are we?" He wondered, voice deep and sounding live he'd swallowed gravel.
"We should be able to see the coast." I said. I was worried about losing my way at first, but the further we drove, the more the memories came back to me, the more familiar the roads seemed.
"The sky looks like it's about to split open." Byunghee noticed.
I rolled down the window, but it was difficult to tell if it was thunder, wind, ocean or simply the purr of the tires on the road that I was hearing.
The long stretch of highway we were on veered to the right and we were, quite suddenly, at the coast. Small houses, brightly colored against the black sky above them, sat on the road to our right. Sand, looking gray and glassy stretched out far to our left before meeting the blue-green ocean, swirling with anticipation as the first drops of rain began to fall.
I pulled off the main road and into the parking lot near the beach entrance, rolling up the window to block out the rain.
"Do you remember which one is his?" Byunghee asked, turned around in his seat to look at the row of houses behind us.
I thought back to all of my past trips out here, but it was difficult to remember such a detail when most of my memories of this place were just being out on the beach. Seungho loved it out here, listening to the birds, grilling hamburgers, collecting seashells...
When I came out here, he liked to show me the new windchimes he'd bought. Metal ones that sang out or wood ones that sounded like rain... He always said he'd buy a small boat, one with bright white sails and a yellow hull to match the color of the house.
"Yellow." I said, opening eyes I didn't even realize I'd closed. "It was yellow with white shutters."
"I don't see a yellow one." Byunghee said.
His statement made me turn around in my own seat, straining against the seatbelt. "Maybe he painted it... or someone new came along and changed the color of it."
We both looked up and down the long road, the houses, all different sizes and shapes and colors, were slowly starting to look the same beneath the steadily increasing rain.
With a sigh, I turned back to the view in front of us, the sand and the beach and the lightning streaking across the sky.
Byunghee looked for a few more seconds before turning around and settling in his seat. "Color aside, do you remember which house it should be?"
I tried to think. Memories flashed by lightning fast, but none of them offered the information I needed.
I remembered Seungho, of course, and how he always smelled like sea salt. The tan that had darkened his skin... How he'd let his hair grow out nearly past his shoulders... The way his skinny fingers danced over the keys of the tiny piano he'd bought even though there was barely enough room for it in the dining room. I remembered the fish tank that sat on a table in the kitchen. How it was completely void of fish, but the beautiful colors of it seemed to light up the whole house at night. I remembered how he'd open the bedroom windows, letting in that sharp and tangy breeze, the sound of the crashing waves and the occasional bonfire party...
...but I couldn't remember which house he lived in.
Fed up with myself and this now pointless journey, I rolled down the window again, stuck my head out into the wind and rain. "Seungho!" I shouted, my voice carrying on across the empty parking lot. "Seungho, where are you?"
"What are you doing?" Byunghee said, tugging at my shirt, pulling at my hair, trying to get me back inside.
"I miss you so fucking much!" I screamed, lungs burning with the effort.
Byunghee pulled on my shirt, yanking me back into the car. He pressed the button to put up the window, then leaned back in his seat, staring at me without a word.
Water dripped from my nose and from my hair and the chill of it sank into my bones and made me shiver.
"We could knock on every door." I suggested.
"I'd rather not." Byunghee said quickly. "Not in this weather."
The rain was really coming down now, so thick that it was difficult to see out the window.
The houses, only a few yards away, were nothing but formless shadows as the wind whipped through the trees.
If Seungho were beside me, and we were looking for someone else, he would have stuck his head out the window along with me, shouting his anger at the heavens and at the sea.
Whatever happens, happens.
Everyone has heard that saying.
If it's meant to be, it'll be.
Such vague and empty promises, yet they bring so much comfort to so many people. Give them the chance to push on, even when obstacles pile up in front of them.
If I were to go by such words, if meeting Seungho again was meant to be, I would have met him.
How much sense does that honestly make?
There's a very high chance he just painted his house, or that he wasn't at home, or maybe he was asleep at that moment I called his name... What if the storm had whipped my shouts back out to sea and no one on the other side of the road had heard me?
Too many variables could have kept me from seeing him right then.
So was it really not meant to be... or did coincidence keep us from seeing other when only a few feet of distance separated us.
Maybe "If it's meant to be..." is too strong of a phrase. Or maybe it's not strong enough. It's too indirect, its meaning is too fluid, changing rapidly from person to person.
The correct phrasing should be "If a certain series of coincidental events happen, it'll happen" or "If you shout yourself hoarse, it'll happen" or "If you'd never left him in the first place..."
Byunghee drove us back home. Neither of us talked.
I didn't have the strength to and Byunghee probably just didn't know what to say.
I dozed off not even an hour into the drive.
Sandara threw her party.
Everyone who was anyone showed up.
The club she'd rented for the night was gorgeous, but it was difficult to admire the beauty of the architecture when the bodies were packed almost shoulder to shoulder. The guest DJ played his set list, each song better than the last, turning the crowd into a swaying, raunchy mob of hips and hands.
Before I knew it, I was doused in sweat, my body sore from dancing.
The strobe lights flashed, zooming over faces in the crowd, catching their faces in split-second expressions like photographs.
I saw Sandara a few times that night. She had a drink in her hand most of the time. She hated fruity drinks. She preferred straight-up liquor.
Chaerin made her grand entrance, right as the songs switched, so when she swung open the doors with a bang, it was quiet in the club and everyone jerked their heads toward the sudden sound as the next song played.
For the longest time, I didn't see any of the guys, but as the night progressed, I spotted Mir's closely-shaved head in the distance.
Before I knew it, Joon was standing right in front of me. I leaned toward his ear. "I didn't think you show up."
He just shrugged, then held up his empty hands. "I'm not drinking tonight." He said, his voice hot and itchy in my ear. "She can't fuck with me." He pulled back and the flashing lights caught his bright white teeth, cast shadows over his cheekbones. "But there is one guy here I want to talk to... without the charade... sober." He grinned and turned away, his skin-tight shirt was the last thing I saw of him before the crowd swallowed him up.
Before too much longer, Sandara was at my arm. "Did you tell him?" She screeched.
She must have taken my silence as an answer.
"You weren't supposed to tell him!" I could hear her screeching loud and clear over the pounding bass, could smell the alcohol on her breath over the stench of sweat in the air.
"What if he decided not to drink on his own?" I offered.
"I don't believe it." She snapped. "You told him. You messed everything up. It was supposed to be the highlight of the night!" Someone bumped into her, nearly causing her to drop her glass. With a scowl, she melted into the crowd in the general direction of the bar.
I spotted Byunghee behind the counter, amazing the guests at the bar with his mixing skills. A foreigner with bright red hair had latched herself onto him, having crawled over the bar at some point in the night. He didn't seem to mind though. In fact, I think she was the main one he was trying to impress.
The night slipped on, song after song, dance after dance.
The crowd was slowly starting to thin, I could actually move a bit, could breathe a bit.
In those moments, with my body moving almost instinctively to the music, I decided that the past was probably better off in the past... that my future would be better fame-free...
Even though I lived a life I found dull and boring, I had nothing to complain about. I was happy. I was healthy.
"Thunder!" Someone shouted over the noise of the club.
The word sank into me like it belonged there, and even without turning, I knew whose voice it was.
It was Seungho, dancing right across from me. Who knows how long he'd been there.
"Seungho!" I shouted back, immediately crossing the dance floor to him.
I had finally found my song.
Previous
Poll Round 16: A Song In Too High A Key To Sing
Team: Future
Rating: M
Fandom: MBLAQ
Pairing: none
Summary: Sanghyun decides to reconnect with everyone.
Author's Note: (optional. You may thank betas, any significant people, but please refrain from including something that would reveal your identity)
Prompt Used: 2PM - Without U
What is it about human nature that makes us crave what's bad for us?
We become addicted to these painful memories, bad habits, awful people, abusive relationships and unfortunate circumstances... It's so easy to just move on. Get out. Be happy.
Yet all we know is the discomfort caused by these things. It's terrible, but it seems like our very natures keep us deeply entrenched in them, even though happiness is so close.
Maybe MBLAQ is one of those bad things that's so easy to get caught up in.
Byunghee attempted to run away from it, but after talking with him tonight, I'm sure he wants it back more than he lets on. Maybe even more than I do.
I just can't make up my mind.
One moment, it all looks like paradise, a way to escape the boredom and repitition that has swallowed my life. The next moment, I see it for the ferocious beast that it is and I no longer want any part of it.
I'd love a second chance at fame... but it's like a drug that would only weaken me, destroy me, even if it makes me feel good for a few precious moments.
Perhaps making such an easily avoidable mistake is part of being human?
Or, more likely, resisting such mistakes is what being human is all about.
Either way, I feel like my brain can't process this. I can't figure out what to do next, who to talk to next, where to go next... It's strange, because I can see my goals as clear as day, my destination is right within view... but it's the path that is obscured. Putting one foot in front of the other, such a simple task, is something I can't wrap my head around.
It's like a song in too high a key to sing.
You know all the words, you know every nuance in the melody, every changing rhythm... but when you open your mouth, you just can't do it... it's beyond your limits. No amount of practice or straining will get the job done.
You're just forced to play it in your head over and over, unable to do anything else because even your best is not good enough.
The entire night slipped by right under our noses.
Before Byunghee and I even noticed, dawn was banishing the night and the city was coming alive with the colors of sunlight.
In the hours we'd walked the streets and danced in clubs, we'd silently agreed to go to the southern coast.
I went home and he went home, but just as the sun was peeping over the horizon, he showed up in the parking lot outside my apartment, a suitcase packed for an overnight trip.
My suitcase was already in the trunk of the car.
We got in and, wordlessly, made our way to the coast.
Towards our songs.
Towards our Seungho.
"Thank you." I said when the silence in the car became too much even for me.
"I want to do this." Byunghee said, eyes focused on the city outside the window. Traffic and buildings and clouds all whirled past us in a kaleidoscope of colors.
I focused on the road, my grip on the steering wheel, the vibration of the car as the wheels turned over the asphalt.
"There are all of these sayings about letting go of the past..." Byunghee continued, voice silky and soft. "...but is it really so terrible to hold on? To keep fighting for something you once had?"
I stayed quiet, unsure of what to say.
Earlier, beneath the black lights of the club, it was Byunghee who told me that we should create an imaginary past if it meant forgetting our real ones.
"You think you're over it." He went on. "You think you've gotten past such a roadblock and that you're invincible and can handle any future hardship... but then you start thinking again, start doubting... and all of a sudden you're caught up in a whirlwind. You don't know which way is up, and that impenetrable wall you built up comes tumbling down."
"Sorry." I said. "I didn't mean to cause-"
"It's alright." He interrupted. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him turn to look at me. "Maybe I'm better off without those walls." He sighed, one of relief, like he'd just chucked the weight of the world from his shoulders. "I need to stop treating my past like it's something dangerous."
We drove in silence again, but this time it was because the power of his words rendered us both speechless.
We were hardly completely out of Seoul when Byunghee dozed off, but my phone rang. It was Sandara.
"Remember when you said you wanted to throw a party?" She asked.
"Yeah." I muttered.
"How about we make my party and your party the same thing?" She suggested.
"Wouldn't that be counter-productive? I just want all five of us in one place again." I don't want it to be some public execution, a brutal playground for you and your idea of fun. I wanted to say this so badly, but I didn't have the spine to stand up to her.
"That's why we should just throw one big party. Have everyone be there. It'll be glorious." Sandara squealed in excitement, the sound like a drill straight into my ears. She continued on, but I tuned her out.
I didn't want to do it. The party, I mean.
As wretched as Joon's habit was, as grand as his party fouls, I just wanted to protect him.
He'd earned a terrible reputation, everyone spoke badly of him, spat venom in his direction, but I just wanted to stand by his side.
He was family.
...but so was Sandara.
They were both wrong. They both had faults and flaws.
What should I do?
I turned to Byunghee, as if expecting him to give me some type of hint or clue as he dreamed, but his face remained still except the slightest twitch of his lips.
"Just let him do what he wants to do." I said.
"Huh?" Sandara asked, confused. I'd interrupted her with a sudden outburst.
"Joon. Just let him have his fun."
Sandara was quiet so long that I thought she'd hung up on me. "That's so unlike you, Sanghyun." She muttered, but I couldn't tell if she was angry or impressed. "I just want to have a little fun, a little revenge for all the girls that Joon played... being nice to them to get close to their boyfriends."
"I get that." I said, although I didn't really.
"Remember, Joon is a bitch." She said.
Joon is a bitch.
The line that started it all.
"Does it matter?" I asked.
"Of course it matters." My sister hissed. "He's fucked with us all. He deserves what's coming to him."
This was a losing battle. Neither of us would give up, neither of us would surrender. If I backed off now, maybe she'd cool off, realize how damaging this could be, not just for Joon but for all of us. Maybe she'd stop her plans.
If I kept up the argument, though, I'd only anger her, make her go through with it out of spite, out of menace.
"Okay, fine. Do what you want." I said quickly. "Look, I'm a bit busy. I'll call you back later." Even as she yelled my name, I hung up on her.
Not even five seconds later, she was calling me again. I sent her call straight to voicemail.
She called one more time, then sent several text messages, but I didn't read any of them.
Eventually she let me be, but I know this wasn't the end.
I made a decision. I had to tell Joon. I had to warn him.
Thank goodness he answered.
"Do you know what people are saying about you?" I asked him.
"That I'm a bitch?" He wondered, not sounding the least bit surprised.
"You know?"
"Of course I do. Word gets around, Sanghyun. In fact, I'm shocked it took this long for us to be having this conversation."
"Why do you do it?" I had to know. "For fun?"
"Because I'm bored." Joon replied, so calm and casual that I was certain he'd explained this time and time again. "Because it's a cheap thrill."
"That's all?" I asked. I had expected a long, drawn out story, not just a few sentences.
Perhaps more things in life are just as simple. Perhaps it's just our own thoughts that complicate the meaning behind our actions.
"I do it because it feels good to be paid attention to. It may not be the best kind of attention, but at least I'm still talked about. It's always fun to see guys stiffen up when I come into the room, like I'm some foul beast they have to fight against." He laughed. "It feels great to have that kind of power over people."
To be honest, I was confused.
Why would anyone willingly make people hate them? Who would want to stir up drama and cause problems? How self-destructive is that?
Then again, the entertainment business is probably the most self-destructive one out there. How often do you hear about rehab, overdoses, suicides and divorces in the tabloids?
"Let me guess, you hate me, too?" Joon asked honestly.
"No. I just wanted to warn you. Sandara knows you don't really get drunk. She's going to expose you at the next party she throws."
"Well, that's interesting." He said, speaking of it like it was the least important thing in the world.
This confounded me. How could he be so calm about this?
"It's alright, Sanghyun. I can handle myself." With that, he hung up.
I was so stunned that I held the phone up to my ear long after he'd disconnected.
Eventually, I was able to snap out of it.
He wanted this.
He wanted the humiliation, the hate.
This was what he was addicted to.
Since he couldn't sing the song, he figured he might as well completely ruin it.
The closer we got to the beach, the darker the clouds in the sky became until it was obvious we were driving into bad weather. I hadn't even thought to check the weather forecast.
As the world darkened with the approach of a storm, my doubt seemed to well up in me.
Was I doing the right thing?
Would stirring things up from my past be a help or a hindrance?
Can going through all of this trouble really sate my need for closure?
There was a time where the temptation to turn the car around were so great that I nearly took an exit before coming to my senses and swerving back onto the highway.
The sudden movement of the vehicle startled Byunghee out of his nap. He blinked rapidly, yawned and stretched, then he seemed to remember where he was. "How far out are we?" He wondered, voice deep and sounding live he'd swallowed gravel.
"We should be able to see the coast." I said. I was worried about losing my way at first, but the further we drove, the more the memories came back to me, the more familiar the roads seemed.
"The sky looks like it's about to split open." Byunghee noticed.
I rolled down the window, but it was difficult to tell if it was thunder, wind, ocean or simply the purr of the tires on the road that I was hearing.
The long stretch of highway we were on veered to the right and we were, quite suddenly, at the coast. Small houses, brightly colored against the black sky above them, sat on the road to our right. Sand, looking gray and glassy stretched out far to our left before meeting the blue-green ocean, swirling with anticipation as the first drops of rain began to fall.
I pulled off the main road and into the parking lot near the beach entrance, rolling up the window to block out the rain.
"Do you remember which one is his?" Byunghee asked, turned around in his seat to look at the row of houses behind us.
I thought back to all of my past trips out here, but it was difficult to remember such a detail when most of my memories of this place were just being out on the beach. Seungho loved it out here, listening to the birds, grilling hamburgers, collecting seashells...
When I came out here, he liked to show me the new windchimes he'd bought. Metal ones that sang out or wood ones that sounded like rain... He always said he'd buy a small boat, one with bright white sails and a yellow hull to match the color of the house.
"Yellow." I said, opening eyes I didn't even realize I'd closed. "It was yellow with white shutters."
"I don't see a yellow one." Byunghee said.
His statement made me turn around in my own seat, straining against the seatbelt. "Maybe he painted it... or someone new came along and changed the color of it."
We both looked up and down the long road, the houses, all different sizes and shapes and colors, were slowly starting to look the same beneath the steadily increasing rain.
With a sigh, I turned back to the view in front of us, the sand and the beach and the lightning streaking across the sky.
Byunghee looked for a few more seconds before turning around and settling in his seat. "Color aside, do you remember which house it should be?"
I tried to think. Memories flashed by lightning fast, but none of them offered the information I needed.
I remembered Seungho, of course, and how he always smelled like sea salt. The tan that had darkened his skin... How he'd let his hair grow out nearly past his shoulders... The way his skinny fingers danced over the keys of the tiny piano he'd bought even though there was barely enough room for it in the dining room. I remembered the fish tank that sat on a table in the kitchen. How it was completely void of fish, but the beautiful colors of it seemed to light up the whole house at night. I remembered how he'd open the bedroom windows, letting in that sharp and tangy breeze, the sound of the crashing waves and the occasional bonfire party...
...but I couldn't remember which house he lived in.
Fed up with myself and this now pointless journey, I rolled down the window again, stuck my head out into the wind and rain. "Seungho!" I shouted, my voice carrying on across the empty parking lot. "Seungho, where are you?"
"What are you doing?" Byunghee said, tugging at my shirt, pulling at my hair, trying to get me back inside.
"I miss you so fucking much!" I screamed, lungs burning with the effort.
Byunghee pulled on my shirt, yanking me back into the car. He pressed the button to put up the window, then leaned back in his seat, staring at me without a word.
Water dripped from my nose and from my hair and the chill of it sank into my bones and made me shiver.
"We could knock on every door." I suggested.
"I'd rather not." Byunghee said quickly. "Not in this weather."
The rain was really coming down now, so thick that it was difficult to see out the window.
The houses, only a few yards away, were nothing but formless shadows as the wind whipped through the trees.
If Seungho were beside me, and we were looking for someone else, he would have stuck his head out the window along with me, shouting his anger at the heavens and at the sea.
Whatever happens, happens.
Everyone has heard that saying.
If it's meant to be, it'll be.
Such vague and empty promises, yet they bring so much comfort to so many people. Give them the chance to push on, even when obstacles pile up in front of them.
If I were to go by such words, if meeting Seungho again was meant to be, I would have met him.
How much sense does that honestly make?
There's a very high chance he just painted his house, or that he wasn't at home, or maybe he was asleep at that moment I called his name... What if the storm had whipped my shouts back out to sea and no one on the other side of the road had heard me?
Too many variables could have kept me from seeing him right then.
So was it really not meant to be... or did coincidence keep us from seeing other when only a few feet of distance separated us.
Maybe "If it's meant to be..." is too strong of a phrase. Or maybe it's not strong enough. It's too indirect, its meaning is too fluid, changing rapidly from person to person.
The correct phrasing should be "If a certain series of coincidental events happen, it'll happen" or "If you shout yourself hoarse, it'll happen" or "If you'd never left him in the first place..."
Byunghee drove us back home. Neither of us talked.
I didn't have the strength to and Byunghee probably just didn't know what to say.
I dozed off not even an hour into the drive.
Sandara threw her party.
Everyone who was anyone showed up.
The club she'd rented for the night was gorgeous, but it was difficult to admire the beauty of the architecture when the bodies were packed almost shoulder to shoulder. The guest DJ played his set list, each song better than the last, turning the crowd into a swaying, raunchy mob of hips and hands.
Before I knew it, I was doused in sweat, my body sore from dancing.
The strobe lights flashed, zooming over faces in the crowd, catching their faces in split-second expressions like photographs.
I saw Sandara a few times that night. She had a drink in her hand most of the time. She hated fruity drinks. She preferred straight-up liquor.
Chaerin made her grand entrance, right as the songs switched, so when she swung open the doors with a bang, it was quiet in the club and everyone jerked their heads toward the sudden sound as the next song played.
For the longest time, I didn't see any of the guys, but as the night progressed, I spotted Mir's closely-shaved head in the distance.
Before I knew it, Joon was standing right in front of me. I leaned toward his ear. "I didn't think you show up."
He just shrugged, then held up his empty hands. "I'm not drinking tonight." He said, his voice hot and itchy in my ear. "She can't fuck with me." He pulled back and the flashing lights caught his bright white teeth, cast shadows over his cheekbones. "But there is one guy here I want to talk to... without the charade... sober." He grinned and turned away, his skin-tight shirt was the last thing I saw of him before the crowd swallowed him up.
Before too much longer, Sandara was at my arm. "Did you tell him?" She screeched.
She must have taken my silence as an answer.
"You weren't supposed to tell him!" I could hear her screeching loud and clear over the pounding bass, could smell the alcohol on her breath over the stench of sweat in the air.
"What if he decided not to drink on his own?" I offered.
"I don't believe it." She snapped. "You told him. You messed everything up. It was supposed to be the highlight of the night!" Someone bumped into her, nearly causing her to drop her glass. With a scowl, she melted into the crowd in the general direction of the bar.
I spotted Byunghee behind the counter, amazing the guests at the bar with his mixing skills. A foreigner with bright red hair had latched herself onto him, having crawled over the bar at some point in the night. He didn't seem to mind though. In fact, I think she was the main one he was trying to impress.
The night slipped on, song after song, dance after dance.
The crowd was slowly starting to thin, I could actually move a bit, could breathe a bit.
In those moments, with my body moving almost instinctively to the music, I decided that the past was probably better off in the past... that my future would be better fame-free...
Even though I lived a life I found dull and boring, I had nothing to complain about. I was happy. I was healthy.
"Thunder!" Someone shouted over the noise of the club.
The word sank into me like it belonged there, and even without turning, I knew whose voice it was.
It was Seungho, dancing right across from me. Who knows how long he'd been there.
"Seungho!" I shouted back, immediately crossing the dance floor to him.
I had finally found my song.
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Poll Round 16: A Song In Too High A Key To Sing