[ys] Write Me A Tragedy (6/7)
A/N: So close to the end! I'm amazed I managed to get this out lately. Please be patient with me, and I hope you all enjoy :)
He catches Min-hyuk’s eye from across the room. “Slow. Give me something low on the toms.”
Min-hyuk nods, turning on the click and the rhythmic beeping goes off in Yong-hwa’s own in-ears. Next to him, Jong-hyun is already nodding in time with the beat.
Yong-hwa counts them in. “1, 2, 3, 4!”
Together they play the intro that’s been circulating in his head for the past few weeks, a soft, slow transition of chords that blend into each other. It’s still in the rough stages, which is why it’s pretty much an acoustic rendition with Yong-hwa supporting on the keys, and Jong-hyun taking the acoustic guitar.
“C… Am… F…G!” Yong-hwa shouts, and Jung-shin’s fingers slide down the bass, in time to the chord changes.
They play like this for a few more minutes; Yong-hwa calling out chords over Min-hyuk’s drum rolls and Jong-hyun filling in the empty spaces spontaneously, until they’ve reached the end of the snippet that he’s composed. Yong-hwa slumps down onto a nearby amp, but there is a grin spreading across his face. “Sweet.”
“It’s a good start,” Jong-hyun allows, flopping down into the only easy chair in the room, acoustic guitar balanced across his knees. “Any lyrics?”
That is where the problem lies.
Each song is always written differently for Yong-hwa. Some songs take months, while others can be written in the span of a week. Sometimes, the chords come first before the words, other times, the words come so fast and furious, Yong-hwa barely has time to get them all down into a rambly voice note which he’ll send off to their producer and the CNBLUE group chat. Nevertheless, the process always requires both - music and lyrics coming together, inspiring each other towards a particular kind of mood or feeling.
Yet this song remains elusive, a blank canvas of chords without the words to it. Yong-hwa has found himself puzzling over it for the past few days, struggling to put words to it - any words at all, but nothing has fit right.
He doesn’t want to go out on a limb here, but he’s pretty sure the divorce has everything to do with his sudden creative blockage. And judging by the way Jong-hyun raises both his eyebrows, looking back down at his guitar instead of pursuing the line of questioning, he’s pretty sure his best friend gets it too.
“Don’t you have that journal that you always carry around, hyung?” Jung-shin offers, finding his own seat absently. “Why don’t you just use some of the lyrics I know you have scribbled in there?”
Jung-shin isn’t wrong. There is a book he carries around, jotting down scraps of lyrics and words that come to him, from which he sometimes fashions into full songs. But he shakes his head, “I tried. They just… I don’t know. It’s not gelling.”
“Are you going to keep it this way? Acoustic?” Min-hyuk asks, leaning forward. “It’s not really our typical style.”
Yong-hwa nods, hesitating at first, but with increasing certainty. “I like it this way,” He says slowly. “I was thinking… maybe a violin part at the beginning, pull off those higher notes at the intro? Instead of an electric guitar.”
“Are you learning the violin secretly too now, hyung?” Jung-shin teases, but whatever else he is about to say is cut off by a quiet knock at the door, quiet enough that if they’d all been playing, it would have been lost. A second later, Joo-hyun pops her head in. “I thought I heard you all.”
The door swings wider then, revealing a tray that Joo-hyun is holding - 4 cups balanced on a tray - and she steps carefully into the room. “Time for a ma break?”
Min-hyuk cheers, dropping his sticks unceremoniously onto the snare drum, as he reaches out to take his cup from Joo-hyun. “Thank you, hyungsoo-nim!”
“Did we tell you about the time hyung tried to make ma shakes on tour, and ended up poisoning all of us?” Jung-shin chimes in, grinning impishly.
Joo-hyun cuts a look across the room at Yong-hwa, who shrugs offhandedly. “In my defence,” He says, watching as she passes out the third cup to Jong-hyun. “I didn’t know the milk was expired.”
“You didn’t check the label?”
“We all ended up with diahorrea for 3 days!” Jung-shin says indignantly. Jong-hyun rolls his eyes at the memory, drinking deep and with obvious relish.
Now, Joo-hyun is by his side, weaving her way around the keyboard and he gratefully accepts the final and last cup on the tray. Already, the smell of fresh ma - a combination of milk, apples and bananas, a uniquely Joo-hyun concoction - is making his mouth water and he can’t help but take a greedy sip. The natural sweetness of the fruits rush through his senses, and when he opens his eyes, he knows the smile on his lips is contented. “Thank you, baby.”
Joo-hyun smiles, and her hand comes up, rubbing at a corner of his lips. Her fingers are soft against his skin. “Froth,” She explains, and Yong-hwa doesn’t even think when he wraps an arm around her waist, tugging her closer, until he can rest his head against her side. This close, she smells faintly of the floral perfume she wears, and he registers her typical office attire - a crumpled white button down, rolled up at the sleeves, and a non-descript black skirt. He looks up at the clock on the wall of the practice room. 11.32pm.
“I’m sorry,” He says, quiet enough for her to hear. “I’d planned to go pick you up… I didn’t realise how late it’d gotten.”
“Don’t be silly, oppa.” Joo-hyun says, but one of her hands comes up to rub at her eyes and Yong-hwa sees the exhaustion written in the bags under her eyes, the tired slant of her smile. “You know my work schedule is erratic. And the subway is always empty this time of night.”
He is about to tell her to go get a shower, get some rest, but Joo-hyun looks around the room, addressing the boys. “New song?”
“Written by none other,” Jong-hyun interjects, tilting his head towards Yong-hwa.
“It sounds good,” Joo-hyun says, and he can feel it; her hand curling in at the collar of his shirt. “What’s it about?”
Yong-hwa refuses to look at Jong-hyun, at the rest of the boys, who are surely looking at him. He keeps his eyes on her, deliberately keeps his tone light. “Jury’s still out on that one. I’m working on it.”
Joo-hyun nods, seeming to accept this answer. Thankfully, Min-hyuk chimes in, inadvertently saving him from any further questions. “Are you coming for the thanksgiving dinner next week, hyungsoonim?”
“A company dinner?” Joo-hyun echoes. Her eyes catch his in obvious surprise.
Yong-hwa hesitates. “You know the one that FNC throws at the close of every year. You went with me the year before.”
He’s known about the upcoming dinner for a while, but honestly, he’s been sitting on inviting Joo-hyun. It’s not that he doesn’t want to invite her - he’d like nothing better. In fact, he’s pretty sure that she’d say yes, given how well things have been going between them.
But ironically, it’s because of how good things are between them, that he hesitates to invite her. This will be the first work thing that she’d be going with him to in a while, if she agrees. Yong-hwa is starting to get why she filed for the divorce, and he’s sure that work - his work, in particular - has some role to play in inciting that decision. He isn’t sure if he wants to dredge up those issues or feelings again by inviting her to a work event. But now…
“If hyung hasn’t asked you,” Jung-shin butts in, a teasing lilt in his voice which bodes a forthcoming joke. “Do you want to be my date, hyungsoonim?”
This kind of teasing is common from the maknae; more out of a desire to disturb Yong-hwa than anything else. Still, he opens his mouth, wanting to tell the maknae to fuck off, when Joo-hyun tilts her head, her eyes puzzled. “Aren’t you taking Bae Su -“
Joo-hyun seems to realise what she has said mid-way, slapping a hand over her mouth as if to keep the rest of the name in, but the damage is done. This development might be news to all of them, but they know enough about each other’s private lives to automatically place the rest of the name, even without that missing last syllable.
Min-hyuk splutters over his shake, and Jong-hyun leans forward in interest, both eyebrows raised now. Jung-shin’s eyes are saucers, widened in consternation at Joo-hyun’s slip.
“Hyungsoonim!”
“You said you weren’t seeing her!”
“You said she asked you out and you weren't interested!”
Jung-shin’s whine is cut off by Min-hyuk and Jong-hyun’s simultaneous accusations, and as their voices cross in an escalating cacophony of yelling, Yong-hwa shakes his head, leaning back into the amp to look back up at his wife. Joo-hyun’s eyes are guilty; Jung-shin must have confided that to her in private, and he knows that the slip was accidental, but of course, his sweet Joo-hyun would feel bad about it. He tightens his arm around her waist, re-drawing her attention.
“Since Jung-shin is clearly taken now,” He tells her, softly, teasing. “Would you be my date to the dinner?”
The expression on Joo-hyun’s face - that characteristic mix of fond exasperation - is achingly familiar, and her hand comes up to trace the line of his jaw. You don’t look at someone you’re going to divorce like that, Yong-hwa tells himself. You don’t touch someone you don’t love like this.
“I would love to.” Joo-hyun says simply, and just like that, Yong-hwa feels the last of his fears fade, fleeing shadows in the brightness of her smile.
+++
He feels her hand, tucking itself in the crook of his arm and he forces himself to slow down, ducks his head, so that he can hear her better over the rising wall of voices. “I didn’t expect there to be so many people.”
“It’s been a good year for FNC,” Yong-hwa tells her. “They got a new girl group this year, Park Hyo-shin sunbae… I think they’re planning to debut a new boy group,” He jerks his chin towards a line of lanky teenagers, who are bowing at right angles to the other performers passing by. “Come October or so? The company’s expanding.”
Joo-hyun smiles shyly, even as the trainees in question drop into automatic low bows, at the sight of the pair of them. Yong-hwa lifts his hand for a high-five with one of them, Jae - the kid had come up to get some guitar tips from him at the last company get-together. “They’re cute,” She admits quietly, when they’ve passed.
“Going to run away with one of them?”
Joo-hyun’s eyes sparkle. “You never know. One of them might have a thing for noonas.”
This line of teasing is as far as Yong-hwa is willing to go, and he stamps a kiss against her cheek, not wanting to draw further attention to themselves but not quite content to let that last comment stand. “I’d like to see them try.”
“Already at it?” Jong-hyun says dryly, emerging from the crowd to walk alongside them.
“Already at what?” Yong-hwa says defensively, but in the next second, he feels an arm slip around his shoulders, Min-hyuk loping up beside him. Regretfully, Joo-hyun lets go of her hold on his arm, lagging to match Jong-hyun’s pace, already talking animatedly. On the way here, she’d told him that she’d recently re-connected with an old school friend, her senior, who she thought would be a great match for Jong-hyun, so Yong-hwa can only guess that she must be talking up her old school friend.
They find their table despite the crush of people starting to fill the ballroom, but before Yong-hwa can take his seat, he is greeted by a steady stream of familiar and new faces that keep him on his feet. He slings a friendly arm of greeting around Dean, a young R&B singer whom he’s co-authored some songs with previously. He hugs the undisputed queen of FNC, vocal powerhouse, Ailee, asking after her upcoming album. He bows low, shakes the hand of Park Hyo-shin reverently when they are introduced- this is a singer sunbae he’s admired for years, and to think they are label mates now is nothing short of surreal.
He flops back into his seat at the sound of the announcer getting the room to settle down, flashing a wide grin at Joo-hyun. “Can you believe it?”
She smiles at him, but the lights dim all across the ballroom then, directing their attention forward towards the stage where Mr Han, CEO of FNC is taking the stage to make his usual opening remarks.
Mr Han thanks all of them for taking time from their busy schedules to be here, runs through the list of company accomplishments for the year and takes the time to introduce the new trainees who will be debuting soon. This is not out of the ordinary; Yong-hwa remembers CNBLUE’s own introduction years ago; how he’d felt ready to jump out of his own skin with all those eyes on him, feeling the weight of unspoken pressure to excel, to distinguish themselves among all the other artistes here.
Now, he simply settles back into his seat, absently sipping at his flute of champagne, watching as the newbies smile around the room, strained and nervous.
“I’d also like to thank one of our groups here in particular,” CEO Han says. “They’ve been working hard lately, been beating down the roads on tour, and we just released their live tour album two weeks ago.”
Yong-hwa sits up.
CEO Han’s grin gleams under the spotlight. “I’m proud to share that the album has gone platinum as of this afternoon.”
There are whispers, cheers swelling around the room, but Yong-hwa meets Jong-hyun’s eye across the table. His best friend looks as gobsmacked as he does, eyes rounded in shock. “Holy fuck.”
He didn’t even pay much attention to it when it went up - it’s just a tour album after all, not even an album with new songs, but who would have thought -
“CNBLUE!” CEO Han calls loudly, and there is now applause, loud and steady like rainfall throughout the room. “Come on up here!”
Yong-hwa stumbles blindly to his feet. His shock must show on his face for the first few steps, because he’s not making any attempt at all to hide it. It’s only thanks to his extensive training that he manages to recover, to slap the outstretched hands from the tables he passes, to smile his thanks at the senior artistes who are clapping. For him. For CNBLUE.
It is only the feel of Jong-hyun at his elbow, the familiar presence of Jung-shin and Min-hyuk at his back that gives him the courage to run up the stage where CEO Han is waiting, beaming with a large rectangular plaque that bears their platinum certification. Yong-hwa barely registers shaking the older man's hand, the whispered congratulations - his eyes dart to the engraving below. CNBLUE. Between Us Live Tour Album 2018.
CEO Han and a stage assistant usher the boys together; there is a bright flash, signaling a picture being taken, but it is only beginning to sink in for Yong-hwa now. Their live tour album broke platinum in two weeks. Their newest album - the one this tour is in honor of - took almost three weeks, a month to break platinum. It means that response to their music is growing. It means that CNBLUE is gaining in popularity.
He feels an arm around his shoulder, CEO Han’s voice amplified through the microphone. “I met Yong-hwa 4 or 5 years ago, when I was first signing CNBLUE. It was evident even then that this young man had an uncanny talent not just for singing and performing, but for writing songs. Now, not many of you know this, but Yong-hwa’s start in FNC wasn’t the smoothest.”
In spite of himself, in spite of the years it’s been since his mother’s death, Yong-hwa tenses.
It’s not something that made the papers - mostly because the FNC PR side had done a good enough job of keeping it out of the mainstream news, not wanting it to mar the success that they were enjoying at that point in time. Even in interviews today, when he’s asked about his family, he only shares that his mother passed away in recent years, remaining tight-lipped on the details or circumstances surrounding it. It’s something he prefers not to talk about, not in public circles at least. He wonders if CEO Han is going to mention it here, in front of his colleagues, his sunbaes, and his stomach tightens at the thought.
Luckily, CEO Han doesn’t go into specifics. “It was a rough start. I worried that he might be derailed, that the world would never know the talent and gift he had. But he pressed on. He powered through the difficult times… and where he is now, is only testament to the sheer will and determination he showed. That he continues to show, even today. This guy…” CEO Han shakes his head in disbelief. “Has been on tour for months now. And if I know him, he’s probably working on the next album, scribbling down new songs that are going to take the band to the top of the charts again.”
There is a burst of good-natured laughter at that; Yong-hwa shrugs sheepishly, playing along, as if ashamed at being called out like that. CEO Han’s words are half-true, but then again it’s not like everyone in the room needs to know that his songwriting has hit a block lately.
CEO Han smiles, looking at him. “Would you like to say a few words, on behalf of CNBLUE?”
Yong-hwa lets Jung-shin take over his corner of the platinum plaque, stepping forward towards the microphone. He rubs a careless hand against the back of his hair, aware that it is standing up now in a way that would make his hairstylist swear. “Hi.”
“So…” He exhales into the microphone, “This happened. Wow.”
There is a loud whoop from one corner of the room, surging up into another wave of easy applause, and Yong-hwa feels his nerves settle at last. “Thank you all so much. Thank you, CEO Han,” He says, directing a smile at the older man. “You know, I can’t think of a better place to receive this amazing news tonight. Right here - at FNC, we’re family. And it feels good, celebrating a win like this, with my family.”
“Most of all,” Yong-hwa says, “I want to thank these guys right here.” He reaches out, finds Min-hyuk’s shoulder, solid and reassuring. “Months on the road… it makes you either want to kill yourself or kill someone.” He pauses for the laughter that follows, but his next words are heartfelt. “I’m lucky that these guys don’t want to kill me, and that we all still want nothing better than to make music together. Thank you. I love you all from the bottom of my heart.”
There is an awkward pause then, a beat drawn out too long; out of the corner of his eye, he sees CEO Han step towards the microphone, thinking that this is the end of his speech but there is a thought that throws itself up in Yong-hwa’s head with blinding clarity. Joo-hyun.
“I… I also want to take this opportunity to thank my wife.” Yong-hwa blurts into the microphone. He sees CEO Han come to an abrupt halt, caught off guard. But he presses on. Damn these stage lights. I can’t see anything. “She’s supported me throughout every crazy turn this journey’s taken me on. I… I honestly wouldn’t be where I am today, if I didn’t have her in my life. And even that’s an understatement. I love you, Joo-hyun. Thank you for always believing in me.”
He steps back from the podium then, all the pent-up breath in his lungs rushing out of him in a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Already, the euphoria, the blinding excitement is punctured; instead, he can feel an anxiety he can’t name creeping in, accompanied by this overwhelming need to get back to Joo-hyun.
It takes him a good five minutes at least to make it back to his table, being waylaid by fellow label mates and producers alike, who want to congratulate him. But his anxiety level spikes, when he spots the empty seat that should have been Joo-hyun’s.
Yong-hwa can’t even bring himself to sit down.
It’s stupid, but he’s certain that something is wrong.
Even before he can turn away and hightail it out of the ballroom in search of her, Jong-hyun and Hong-ki are there in front of him.
“Can’t find her?” Jong-hyun’s eyes are worried, meaning that he’s not wrong about this - his best friend’s instincts are always on point, and Yong-hwa swallows hard.
“I think she got up mid-way during your speech,” Hong-ki offers. The bodyguard might not understand what’s going on, but he’s well-trained enough to pick up on the signs of anxiety that Yong-hwa is displaying. “Shall I go with you and look?”
This is supposed to be a private company dinner, but Yong-hwa is certain that as with any gathering of celebrities, paparazzi are not far behind. While FNC has a security detail in and around the hotel, there’s still no telling what ears and eyes might be on them tonight. Yong-hwa nods tightly. “Hong-ki, you follow me. I’ll be back soon,” He tells Jong-hyun, eyes cutting over his best friend’s shoulder to where Jung-shin and Min-hyuk are getting up from their seats, looking confused at their little huddle. “You take care of the boys for me.”
Jong-hyun nods, and Yong-hwa tries to walk out of the ballroom like nothing is wrong, like this awful sense of ominousness isn’t splitting him apart.
It’s fine, he tells himself bracingly. She probably just got up to go to the bathroom, and got stuck there, touching up her make up. I’m going to catch her on the way back, and then I’ll scold her for not sticking around for my thank-you speech.
But the ladies on the third floor is empty, as reported helpfully by the attendant manning the bathroom.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
He and Hong-ki split - the bodyguard deciding to check the exterior of the hotel to see if Joo-hyun has somehow decided to hail a taxi home and leave. Yong-hwa fishes his phone out of the pocket of his leather jacket, speed-dialling Joo-hyun.
Please, please, please.
He is almost on the verge of dashing into an open lift nearby, thinking to take it to Level 2 to see if Joo-hyun has somehow decided to wander there instead, when he hears it.
The faintest sound of phone chimes.
With the phone pressed resolutely to his ear, Yong-hwa follows the sound of it, his loafers clacking on the polished marble flooring. Past the lift lobby, he moves down a corridor which opens up into what must be more ballrooms and meeting rooms. He pauses for a minute then, pulling the phone away from his ear.
Most of the ballrooms seem empty, but there is one two doors down that is lit up.
Inside, the ballroom is set up for an event; maybe a wedding, round tables spaced out evenly across the room. And in the middle of it all, a lone figure, standing in a familiar sky-blue lace dress, her back turned towards him, phone still ringing in her hand.
Yong-hwa kills the call, slowing to a walk. Part of him wants to run, wants to sprint over there and shake the living daylights out of her for giving him a fright like this, but there is something else holding him back too - this swooping sense of free-fall, like a car seconds away from driving off the road.
He knows that she can hear him, can hear his soft footfalls over the carpet, but she doesn’t turn around. He comes to a stop, a few steps away from her, and for a few moments, there is just silence, heavy between the pair of them.
“Hey,” He says, choosing his words carefully. “What are you doing here?”
Why did you run off like that, he means, but he senses that one misplaced word, one unchecked show of emotion will blow the whole situation sky-high. Maybe, just maybe, if I keep my tongue in check, maybe, just maybe…
Joo-hyun doesn’t reply immediately, but even over her shoulder, he can see it; her hand coming up, rubbing against her cheek and his heart sinks even further. She’s crying.
But when Joo-hyun speaks, her voice is low and steady. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Even though her words are vague, their impact is instantaneous; Yong-hwa feels them like a sucker-punch to his gut, emptying his lungs of air. Do what? He wonders. This divorce? This marriage? And then, there it is; the smallest flicker of irritation, despite his best intentions. CNBLUE has just reached one of the most significant milestones in their career. Yong-hwa should be overjoyed, ecstatic even, celebrating with the band and his labelmates. And yet, here he is, in an empty ballroom, trying to figure out what is wrong with his wife, what her enigmatic words mean.
“Do what?”
Joo-hyun whirls around then, and the only thing he can read in her face is frustration. “I mean, I can’t do this anymore, Yong-hwa! I can’t… go on living in this bubble of… delusion we’ve built up for ourselves over the months. Where we kid ourselves that things are working out and improving between us. Like we love each other, despite our circumstances. It’s not working. Who are we trying to fool?”
Yong-hwa’s brain seizes on several parts of Joo-hyun’s words - where we kid ourselves that things are working out; like we love each other - but stupidly, foolishly, as if he can derail this argument months coming, he backtracks, chooses something safe. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Joo-hyun shakes her head, and now the tears are for real, tracking down her cheeks. “I mean this: you’re going to release another album. You’re going to go back on tour with the boys. This is your life now. It’s not going to change. What do you want me to do? To be the dutiful wife who sits at home, waiting for her celebrity husband to come home, show his face for a few weeks before disappearing into the studio again to start all of this over?” Her eyes are wide, tearful and she looks away, her voice dropping an octave, almost as if her next words pain her. “I’m 28, Yong-hwa. And I have nothing to show for it. Do you know how that makes me feel? I can’t… I can’t live like that anymore.”
It’s as if his brain has let go of the steering wheel, leaving his mouth on autopilot. “You don’t have nothing,” He argues weakly. “You have your job - you yourself said Ba-run was a good place to start…”
“It’s a job I don’t even like!” Joo-hyun half-shouts. “I didn’t dream of this, Yong-hwa. I dreamed of being the best and brightest lawyer. I dreamed of making real change for real people, not staying till ass o’clock doing paperwork for a bunch of high-up lawyers, who don’t even know the right end of a stapler if it hit them in the face.” Her voice breaks. “This is not my dream. It never was.”
Is this it? Is this the real reason for the divorce?
“Do you… do you blame me for this?” He asks, surprised at how steady his voice is, despite all the new information that’s been thrown his way in the span of minutes, despite the fact that shock is setting in, making him feel light-headed and disconnected from the conversation at hand. “Do you blame me for taking you away from your dream?”
He can’t even say it out loud - do you blame my mother’s death for making you drop out of law school? He can’t. He can’t even begin to fathom this idea - that Joo-hyun who loved his mother like the mother she never had, who shuttled back and forth from Seoul to Bu-san to attend her countless chemo sessions, would resent his mother’s death as the reason for taking her away from her dream. That’s not Joo-hyun, that’s not… it can’t be…
She looks away, blotting at her tears with the back of her hand and the silence, the lack of a rebuttal all but shatters his heart.
“Tell me honestly, Joo-hyun.”
It’s as if those words release a switch within her, unleashing another burst of unfiltered emotion. “I do! Maybe I do. I had all these plans… all these dreams. You… you were never part of the plan. But somehow my whole world became all about you.” Her lip quivers. “Sometimes, I wake up in the morning, and I look at myself and I don’t even know how I got here. Do you know how scary that is?”
He knows his wife is hurting, knows how hard it was for her to even come to that place of admission, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hurt too, by what she’s said. “I never made you,” He says, his voice low and stubborn, to his ears. “I didn’t make you give up law school for me.”
Joo-hyun’s laugh is breathy, disbelieving. “Come on, Yong-hwa,” She says. “You were grieving. You were heartbroken when your mother died. You wanted to drop out of FNC - don’t lie, I saw it in your eyes the day I came back from her funeral, when I joined you back on tour. Do you know how much it would have cost you if you quit? Did you think FNC was just going to let you walk away, after all the money and the time they’d invested in you?” She shakes her head. “But that’s always been you. You’ve always lived in the moment. Act first, think later. You would have walked away, not knowing… not thinking what it could have spelled for you in the future. I had to stay. I had to stay to make you stay.”
Yong-hwa takes a step back; it’s as if her words have knocked all the breath out of him. He is having a hard time meeting her eye, because this is Joo-hyun. This is his wife, and all this time, this is what she’s thought of him? As someone impulsive and rash, someone whose mistakes she always had to clean up after? Has she always thought that about me? “So you stayed because you had no choice.”
Maybe Joo-hyun picks up on the spite in his words, because her words are also bitter. “Since you signed that contract with FNC, have we ever had any choice left?” She laughs, but it’s brittle. “The last real choice you made was marrying me, and look how we’re paying for that now. Maybe we shouldn’t ever have gotten married. Maybe this is the universe telling us we shouldn’t have forced our paths together. Why did you do it, Yong-hwa? Why did you marry me?”
He can’t take it any longer.
“I married you because I had to!” He explodes. “You’d given up everything for me - law school, your dreams. You don’t think I knew that? You don’t think it gnawed away at me every night we were on tour - this guilt that I was making you sacrifice so much for me? I knew. I fucking knew. This was the only way I could repay you. By marrying you.”
The minute the words leave his mouth, he knows they’re all twisted and wrong, and any last semblance of anger is replaced by this crushing sense of guilt, this compulsive need to take it all back. But the damage is already done.
Joo-hyun’s face is deathly pale, as if she has just been slapped.
He takes a step forward, only to have her back up one step, like some kind of misshapen tango, and his heart sinks further in his chest. “Joo-hyun, sweetheart, I swear that’s not what I - ”
Her voice is shaking, and he forces himself to meet her eyes; wide and filled with tears. “You married me because you… you felt like you owed me a debt?”
“No, Joo-hyun, of course not -”
“Don’t lie to me, Jung Yong-hwa!” Joo-hyun shouts, shocking him, but then she is passing a hand over her eyes, the words mangled but nonetheless pleading. “Please, don’t lie to me right now.”
He feels like the lowest possible thing in this planet, a complete fuck-up as he watches her fall apart before his eyes, uncontrollable sobs racking her shoulders. He can’t just stand here and watch his wife believe this lie about why he married her.
He married her for more than this; he knows he did, but… but in some way, it is also the truth. He did marry her because… what else could he have done, when she’d given up so much? What else could he have chosen? There was no way but this.
Yong-hwa grips her shoulders, but she shakes him off roughly, refusing to be held. “Joo-hyun, please.”
She pulls back, and this close, Yong-hwa registers several things: the redness of her eyes, the ruining of her immaculate make up, but beyond all that - a bleakness in her eyes, a distinct deadness in the way she looks at him. Almost as if all the faith she had in him has been shattered.
Slowly, she slides the wedding band on her fourth finger off, and panic wells up in him like blood from a fresh cut. “No.”
He tells himself he will not accept it; he will fucking force it back on her hand if he has to, but it’s as if his body isn’t listening, not when she uncurls his fingers forcibly, dropping the ring into his empty palm.
“Here,” Joo-hyun say, quiet now, all the fight gone out of her. Her fingers are cold, but they do not shake. “Consider this your debt paid.”
He catches Min-hyuk’s eye from across the room. “Slow. Give me something low on the toms.”
Min-hyuk nods, turning on the click and the rhythmic beeping goes off in Yong-hwa’s own in-ears. Next to him, Jong-hyun is already nodding in time with the beat.
Yong-hwa counts them in. “1, 2, 3, 4!”
Together they play the intro that’s been circulating in his head for the past few weeks, a soft, slow transition of chords that blend into each other. It’s still in the rough stages, which is why it’s pretty much an acoustic rendition with Yong-hwa supporting on the keys, and Jong-hyun taking the acoustic guitar.
“C… Am… F…G!” Yong-hwa shouts, and Jung-shin’s fingers slide down the bass, in time to the chord changes.
They play like this for a few more minutes; Yong-hwa calling out chords over Min-hyuk’s drum rolls and Jong-hyun filling in the empty spaces spontaneously, until they’ve reached the end of the snippet that he’s composed. Yong-hwa slumps down onto a nearby amp, but there is a grin spreading across his face. “Sweet.”
“It’s a good start,” Jong-hyun allows, flopping down into the only easy chair in the room, acoustic guitar balanced across his knees. “Any lyrics?”
That is where the problem lies.
Each song is always written differently for Yong-hwa. Some songs take months, while others can be written in the span of a week. Sometimes, the chords come first before the words, other times, the words come so fast and furious, Yong-hwa barely has time to get them all down into a rambly voice note which he’ll send off to their producer and the CNBLUE group chat. Nevertheless, the process always requires both - music and lyrics coming together, inspiring each other towards a particular kind of mood or feeling.
Yet this song remains elusive, a blank canvas of chords without the words to it. Yong-hwa has found himself puzzling over it for the past few days, struggling to put words to it - any words at all, but nothing has fit right.
He doesn’t want to go out on a limb here, but he’s pretty sure the divorce has everything to do with his sudden creative blockage. And judging by the way Jong-hyun raises both his eyebrows, looking back down at his guitar instead of pursuing the line of questioning, he’s pretty sure his best friend gets it too.
“Don’t you have that journal that you always carry around, hyung?” Jung-shin offers, finding his own seat absently. “Why don’t you just use some of the lyrics I know you have scribbled in there?”
Jung-shin isn’t wrong. There is a book he carries around, jotting down scraps of lyrics and words that come to him, from which he sometimes fashions into full songs. But he shakes his head, “I tried. They just… I don’t know. It’s not gelling.”
“Are you going to keep it this way? Acoustic?” Min-hyuk asks, leaning forward. “It’s not really our typical style.”
Yong-hwa nods, hesitating at first, but with increasing certainty. “I like it this way,” He says slowly. “I was thinking… maybe a violin part at the beginning, pull off those higher notes at the intro? Instead of an electric guitar.”
“Are you learning the violin secretly too now, hyung?” Jung-shin teases, but whatever else he is about to say is cut off by a quiet knock at the door, quiet enough that if they’d all been playing, it would have been lost. A second later, Joo-hyun pops her head in. “I thought I heard you all.”
The door swings wider then, revealing a tray that Joo-hyun is holding - 4 cups balanced on a tray - and she steps carefully into the room. “Time for a ma break?”
Min-hyuk cheers, dropping his sticks unceremoniously onto the snare drum, as he reaches out to take his cup from Joo-hyun. “Thank you, hyungsoo-nim!”
“Did we tell you about the time hyung tried to make ma shakes on tour, and ended up poisoning all of us?” Jung-shin chimes in, grinning impishly.
Joo-hyun cuts a look across the room at Yong-hwa, who shrugs offhandedly. “In my defence,” He says, watching as she passes out the third cup to Jong-hyun. “I didn’t know the milk was expired.”
“You didn’t check the label?”
“We all ended up with diahorrea for 3 days!” Jung-shin says indignantly. Jong-hyun rolls his eyes at the memory, drinking deep and with obvious relish.
Now, Joo-hyun is by his side, weaving her way around the keyboard and he gratefully accepts the final and last cup on the tray. Already, the smell of fresh ma - a combination of milk, apples and bananas, a uniquely Joo-hyun concoction - is making his mouth water and he can’t help but take a greedy sip. The natural sweetness of the fruits rush through his senses, and when he opens his eyes, he knows the smile on his lips is contented. “Thank you, baby.”
Joo-hyun smiles, and her hand comes up, rubbing at a corner of his lips. Her fingers are soft against his skin. “Froth,” She explains, and Yong-hwa doesn’t even think when he wraps an arm around her waist, tugging her closer, until he can rest his head against her side. This close, she smells faintly of the floral perfume she wears, and he registers her typical office attire - a crumpled white button down, rolled up at the sleeves, and a non-descript black skirt. He looks up at the clock on the wall of the practice room. 11.32pm.
“I’m sorry,” He says, quiet enough for her to hear. “I’d planned to go pick you up… I didn’t realise how late it’d gotten.”
“Don’t be silly, oppa.” Joo-hyun says, but one of her hands comes up to rub at her eyes and Yong-hwa sees the exhaustion written in the bags under her eyes, the tired slant of her smile. “You know my work schedule is erratic. And the subway is always empty this time of night.”
He is about to tell her to go get a shower, get some rest, but Joo-hyun looks around the room, addressing the boys. “New song?”
“Written by none other,” Jong-hyun interjects, tilting his head towards Yong-hwa.
“It sounds good,” Joo-hyun says, and he can feel it; her hand curling in at the collar of his shirt. “What’s it about?”
Yong-hwa refuses to look at Jong-hyun, at the rest of the boys, who are surely looking at him. He keeps his eyes on her, deliberately keeps his tone light. “Jury’s still out on that one. I’m working on it.”
Joo-hyun nods, seeming to accept this answer. Thankfully, Min-hyuk chimes in, inadvertently saving him from any further questions. “Are you coming for the thanksgiving dinner next week, hyungsoonim?”
“A company dinner?” Joo-hyun echoes. Her eyes catch his in obvious surprise.
Yong-hwa hesitates. “You know the one that FNC throws at the close of every year. You went with me the year before.”
He’s known about the upcoming dinner for a while, but honestly, he’s been sitting on inviting Joo-hyun. It’s not that he doesn’t want to invite her - he’d like nothing better. In fact, he’s pretty sure that she’d say yes, given how well things have been going between them.
But ironically, it’s because of how good things are between them, that he hesitates to invite her. This will be the first work thing that she’d be going with him to in a while, if she agrees. Yong-hwa is starting to get why she filed for the divorce, and he’s sure that work - his work, in particular - has some role to play in inciting that decision. He isn’t sure if he wants to dredge up those issues or feelings again by inviting her to a work event. But now…
“If hyung hasn’t asked you,” Jung-shin butts in, a teasing lilt in his voice which bodes a forthcoming joke. “Do you want to be my date, hyungsoonim?”
This kind of teasing is common from the maknae; more out of a desire to disturb Yong-hwa than anything else. Still, he opens his mouth, wanting to tell the maknae to fuck off, when Joo-hyun tilts her head, her eyes puzzled. “Aren’t you taking Bae Su -“
Joo-hyun seems to realise what she has said mid-way, slapping a hand over her mouth as if to keep the rest of the name in, but the damage is done. This development might be news to all of them, but they know enough about each other’s private lives to automatically place the rest of the name, even without that missing last syllable.
Min-hyuk splutters over his shake, and Jong-hyun leans forward in interest, both eyebrows raised now. Jung-shin’s eyes are saucers, widened in consternation at Joo-hyun’s slip.
“Hyungsoonim!”
“You said you weren’t seeing her!”
“You said she asked you out and you weren't interested!”
Jung-shin’s whine is cut off by Min-hyuk and Jong-hyun’s simultaneous accusations, and as their voices cross in an escalating cacophony of yelling, Yong-hwa shakes his head, leaning back into the amp to look back up at his wife. Joo-hyun’s eyes are guilty; Jung-shin must have confided that to her in private, and he knows that the slip was accidental, but of course, his sweet Joo-hyun would feel bad about it. He tightens his arm around her waist, re-drawing her attention.
“Since Jung-shin is clearly taken now,” He tells her, softly, teasing. “Would you be my date to the dinner?”
The expression on Joo-hyun’s face - that characteristic mix of fond exasperation - is achingly familiar, and her hand comes up to trace the line of his jaw. You don’t look at someone you’re going to divorce like that, Yong-hwa tells himself. You don’t touch someone you don’t love like this.
“I would love to.” Joo-hyun says simply, and just like that, Yong-hwa feels the last of his fears fade, fleeing shadows in the brightness of her smile.
+++
He feels her hand, tucking itself in the crook of his arm and he forces himself to slow down, ducks his head, so that he can hear her better over the rising wall of voices. “I didn’t expect there to be so many people.”
“It’s been a good year for FNC,” Yong-hwa tells her. “They got a new girl group this year, Park Hyo-shin sunbae… I think they’re planning to debut a new boy group,” He jerks his chin towards a line of lanky teenagers, who are bowing at right angles to the other performers passing by. “Come October or so? The company’s expanding.”
Joo-hyun smiles shyly, even as the trainees in question drop into automatic low bows, at the sight of the pair of them. Yong-hwa lifts his hand for a high-five with one of them, Jae - the kid had come up to get some guitar tips from him at the last company get-together. “They’re cute,” She admits quietly, when they’ve passed.
“Going to run away with one of them?”
Joo-hyun’s eyes sparkle. “You never know. One of them might have a thing for noonas.”
This line of teasing is as far as Yong-hwa is willing to go, and he stamps a kiss against her cheek, not wanting to draw further attention to themselves but not quite content to let that last comment stand. “I’d like to see them try.”
“Already at it?” Jong-hyun says dryly, emerging from the crowd to walk alongside them.
“Already at what?” Yong-hwa says defensively, but in the next second, he feels an arm slip around his shoulders, Min-hyuk loping up beside him. Regretfully, Joo-hyun lets go of her hold on his arm, lagging to match Jong-hyun’s pace, already talking animatedly. On the way here, she’d told him that she’d recently re-connected with an old school friend, her senior, who she thought would be a great match for Jong-hyun, so Yong-hwa can only guess that she must be talking up her old school friend.
They find their table despite the crush of people starting to fill the ballroom, but before Yong-hwa can take his seat, he is greeted by a steady stream of familiar and new faces that keep him on his feet. He slings a friendly arm of greeting around Dean, a young R&B singer whom he’s co-authored some songs with previously. He hugs the undisputed queen of FNC, vocal powerhouse, Ailee, asking after her upcoming album. He bows low, shakes the hand of Park Hyo-shin reverently when they are introduced- this is a singer sunbae he’s admired for years, and to think they are label mates now is nothing short of surreal.
He flops back into his seat at the sound of the announcer getting the room to settle down, flashing a wide grin at Joo-hyun. “Can you believe it?”
She smiles at him, but the lights dim all across the ballroom then, directing their attention forward towards the stage where Mr Han, CEO of FNC is taking the stage to make his usual opening remarks.
Mr Han thanks all of them for taking time from their busy schedules to be here, runs through the list of company accomplishments for the year and takes the time to introduce the new trainees who will be debuting soon. This is not out of the ordinary; Yong-hwa remembers CNBLUE’s own introduction years ago; how he’d felt ready to jump out of his own skin with all those eyes on him, feeling the weight of unspoken pressure to excel, to distinguish themselves among all the other artistes here.
Now, he simply settles back into his seat, absently sipping at his flute of champagne, watching as the newbies smile around the room, strained and nervous.
“I’d also like to thank one of our groups here in particular,” CEO Han says. “They’ve been working hard lately, been beating down the roads on tour, and we just released their live tour album two weeks ago.”
Yong-hwa sits up.
CEO Han’s grin gleams under the spotlight. “I’m proud to share that the album has gone platinum as of this afternoon.”
There are whispers, cheers swelling around the room, but Yong-hwa meets Jong-hyun’s eye across the table. His best friend looks as gobsmacked as he does, eyes rounded in shock. “Holy fuck.”
He didn’t even pay much attention to it when it went up - it’s just a tour album after all, not even an album with new songs, but who would have thought -
“CNBLUE!” CEO Han calls loudly, and there is now applause, loud and steady like rainfall throughout the room. “Come on up here!”
Yong-hwa stumbles blindly to his feet. His shock must show on his face for the first few steps, because he’s not making any attempt at all to hide it. It’s only thanks to his extensive training that he manages to recover, to slap the outstretched hands from the tables he passes, to smile his thanks at the senior artistes who are clapping. For him. For CNBLUE.
It is only the feel of Jong-hyun at his elbow, the familiar presence of Jung-shin and Min-hyuk at his back that gives him the courage to run up the stage where CEO Han is waiting, beaming with a large rectangular plaque that bears their platinum certification. Yong-hwa barely registers shaking the older man's hand, the whispered congratulations - his eyes dart to the engraving below. CNBLUE. Between Us Live Tour Album 2018.
CEO Han and a stage assistant usher the boys together; there is a bright flash, signaling a picture being taken, but it is only beginning to sink in for Yong-hwa now. Their live tour album broke platinum in two weeks. Their newest album - the one this tour is in honor of - took almost three weeks, a month to break platinum. It means that response to their music is growing. It means that CNBLUE is gaining in popularity.
He feels an arm around his shoulder, CEO Han’s voice amplified through the microphone. “I met Yong-hwa 4 or 5 years ago, when I was first signing CNBLUE. It was evident even then that this young man had an uncanny talent not just for singing and performing, but for writing songs. Now, not many of you know this, but Yong-hwa’s start in FNC wasn’t the smoothest.”
In spite of himself, in spite of the years it’s been since his mother’s death, Yong-hwa tenses.
It’s not something that made the papers - mostly because the FNC PR side had done a good enough job of keeping it out of the mainstream news, not wanting it to mar the success that they were enjoying at that point in time. Even in interviews today, when he’s asked about his family, he only shares that his mother passed away in recent years, remaining tight-lipped on the details or circumstances surrounding it. It’s something he prefers not to talk about, not in public circles at least. He wonders if CEO Han is going to mention it here, in front of his colleagues, his sunbaes, and his stomach tightens at the thought.
Luckily, CEO Han doesn’t go into specifics. “It was a rough start. I worried that he might be derailed, that the world would never know the talent and gift he had. But he pressed on. He powered through the difficult times… and where he is now, is only testament to the sheer will and determination he showed. That he continues to show, even today. This guy…” CEO Han shakes his head in disbelief. “Has been on tour for months now. And if I know him, he’s probably working on the next album, scribbling down new songs that are going to take the band to the top of the charts again.”
There is a burst of good-natured laughter at that; Yong-hwa shrugs sheepishly, playing along, as if ashamed at being called out like that. CEO Han’s words are half-true, but then again it’s not like everyone in the room needs to know that his songwriting has hit a block lately.
CEO Han smiles, looking at him. “Would you like to say a few words, on behalf of CNBLUE?”
Yong-hwa lets Jung-shin take over his corner of the platinum plaque, stepping forward towards the microphone. He rubs a careless hand against the back of his hair, aware that it is standing up now in a way that would make his hairstylist swear. “Hi.”
“So…” He exhales into the microphone, “This happened. Wow.”
There is a loud whoop from one corner of the room, surging up into another wave of easy applause, and Yong-hwa feels his nerves settle at last. “Thank you all so much. Thank you, CEO Han,” He says, directing a smile at the older man. “You know, I can’t think of a better place to receive this amazing news tonight. Right here - at FNC, we’re family. And it feels good, celebrating a win like this, with my family.”
“Most of all,” Yong-hwa says, “I want to thank these guys right here.” He reaches out, finds Min-hyuk’s shoulder, solid and reassuring. “Months on the road… it makes you either want to kill yourself or kill someone.” He pauses for the laughter that follows, but his next words are heartfelt. “I’m lucky that these guys don’t want to kill me, and that we all still want nothing better than to make music together. Thank you. I love you all from the bottom of my heart.”
There is an awkward pause then, a beat drawn out too long; out of the corner of his eye, he sees CEO Han step towards the microphone, thinking that this is the end of his speech but there is a thought that throws itself up in Yong-hwa’s head with blinding clarity. Joo-hyun.
“I… I also want to take this opportunity to thank my wife.” Yong-hwa blurts into the microphone. He sees CEO Han come to an abrupt halt, caught off guard. But he presses on. Damn these stage lights. I can’t see anything. “She’s supported me throughout every crazy turn this journey’s taken me on. I… I honestly wouldn’t be where I am today, if I didn’t have her in my life. And even that’s an understatement. I love you, Joo-hyun. Thank you for always believing in me.”
He steps back from the podium then, all the pent-up breath in his lungs rushing out of him in a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Already, the euphoria, the blinding excitement is punctured; instead, he can feel an anxiety he can’t name creeping in, accompanied by this overwhelming need to get back to Joo-hyun.
It takes him a good five minutes at least to make it back to his table, being waylaid by fellow label mates and producers alike, who want to congratulate him. But his anxiety level spikes, when he spots the empty seat that should have been Joo-hyun’s.
Yong-hwa can’t even bring himself to sit down.
It’s stupid, but he’s certain that something is wrong.
Even before he can turn away and hightail it out of the ballroom in search of her, Jong-hyun and Hong-ki are there in front of him.
“Can’t find her?” Jong-hyun’s eyes are worried, meaning that he’s not wrong about this - his best friend’s instincts are always on point, and Yong-hwa swallows hard.
“I think she got up mid-way during your speech,” Hong-ki offers. The bodyguard might not understand what’s going on, but he’s well-trained enough to pick up on the signs of anxiety that Yong-hwa is displaying. “Shall I go with you and look?”
This is supposed to be a private company dinner, but Yong-hwa is certain that as with any gathering of celebrities, paparazzi are not far behind. While FNC has a security detail in and around the hotel, there’s still no telling what ears and eyes might be on them tonight. Yong-hwa nods tightly. “Hong-ki, you follow me. I’ll be back soon,” He tells Jong-hyun, eyes cutting over his best friend’s shoulder to where Jung-shin and Min-hyuk are getting up from their seats, looking confused at their little huddle. “You take care of the boys for me.”
Jong-hyun nods, and Yong-hwa tries to walk out of the ballroom like nothing is wrong, like this awful sense of ominousness isn’t splitting him apart.
It’s fine, he tells himself bracingly. She probably just got up to go to the bathroom, and got stuck there, touching up her make up. I’m going to catch her on the way back, and then I’ll scold her for not sticking around for my thank-you speech.
But the ladies on the third floor is empty, as reported helpfully by the attendant manning the bathroom.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
He and Hong-ki split - the bodyguard deciding to check the exterior of the hotel to see if Joo-hyun has somehow decided to hail a taxi home and leave. Yong-hwa fishes his phone out of the pocket of his leather jacket, speed-dialling Joo-hyun.
Please, please, please.
He is almost on the verge of dashing into an open lift nearby, thinking to take it to Level 2 to see if Joo-hyun has somehow decided to wander there instead, when he hears it.
The faintest sound of phone chimes.
With the phone pressed resolutely to his ear, Yong-hwa follows the sound of it, his loafers clacking on the polished marble flooring. Past the lift lobby, he moves down a corridor which opens up into what must be more ballrooms and meeting rooms. He pauses for a minute then, pulling the phone away from his ear.
Most of the ballrooms seem empty, but there is one two doors down that is lit up.
Inside, the ballroom is set up for an event; maybe a wedding, round tables spaced out evenly across the room. And in the middle of it all, a lone figure, standing in a familiar sky-blue lace dress, her back turned towards him, phone still ringing in her hand.
Yong-hwa kills the call, slowing to a walk. Part of him wants to run, wants to sprint over there and shake the living daylights out of her for giving him a fright like this, but there is something else holding him back too - this swooping sense of free-fall, like a car seconds away from driving off the road.
He knows that she can hear him, can hear his soft footfalls over the carpet, but she doesn’t turn around. He comes to a stop, a few steps away from her, and for a few moments, there is just silence, heavy between the pair of them.
“Hey,” He says, choosing his words carefully. “What are you doing here?”
Why did you run off like that, he means, but he senses that one misplaced word, one unchecked show of emotion will blow the whole situation sky-high. Maybe, just maybe, if I keep my tongue in check, maybe, just maybe…
Joo-hyun doesn’t reply immediately, but even over her shoulder, he can see it; her hand coming up, rubbing against her cheek and his heart sinks even further. She’s crying.
But when Joo-hyun speaks, her voice is low and steady. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Even though her words are vague, their impact is instantaneous; Yong-hwa feels them like a sucker-punch to his gut, emptying his lungs of air. Do what? He wonders. This divorce? This marriage? And then, there it is; the smallest flicker of irritation, despite his best intentions. CNBLUE has just reached one of the most significant milestones in their career. Yong-hwa should be overjoyed, ecstatic even, celebrating with the band and his labelmates. And yet, here he is, in an empty ballroom, trying to figure out what is wrong with his wife, what her enigmatic words mean.
“Do what?”
Joo-hyun whirls around then, and the only thing he can read in her face is frustration. “I mean, I can’t do this anymore, Yong-hwa! I can’t… go on living in this bubble of… delusion we’ve built up for ourselves over the months. Where we kid ourselves that things are working out and improving between us. Like we love each other, despite our circumstances. It’s not working. Who are we trying to fool?”
Yong-hwa’s brain seizes on several parts of Joo-hyun’s words - where we kid ourselves that things are working out; like we love each other - but stupidly, foolishly, as if he can derail this argument months coming, he backtracks, chooses something safe. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Joo-hyun shakes her head, and now the tears are for real, tracking down her cheeks. “I mean this: you’re going to release another album. You’re going to go back on tour with the boys. This is your life now. It’s not going to change. What do you want me to do? To be the dutiful wife who sits at home, waiting for her celebrity husband to come home, show his face for a few weeks before disappearing into the studio again to start all of this over?” Her eyes are wide, tearful and she looks away, her voice dropping an octave, almost as if her next words pain her. “I’m 28, Yong-hwa. And I have nothing to show for it. Do you know how that makes me feel? I can’t… I can’t live like that anymore.”
It’s as if his brain has let go of the steering wheel, leaving his mouth on autopilot. “You don’t have nothing,” He argues weakly. “You have your job - you yourself said Ba-run was a good place to start…”
“It’s a job I don’t even like!” Joo-hyun half-shouts. “I didn’t dream of this, Yong-hwa. I dreamed of being the best and brightest lawyer. I dreamed of making real change for real people, not staying till ass o’clock doing paperwork for a bunch of high-up lawyers, who don’t even know the right end of a stapler if it hit them in the face.” Her voice breaks. “This is not my dream. It never was.”
Is this it? Is this the real reason for the divorce?
“Do you… do you blame me for this?” He asks, surprised at how steady his voice is, despite all the new information that’s been thrown his way in the span of minutes, despite the fact that shock is setting in, making him feel light-headed and disconnected from the conversation at hand. “Do you blame me for taking you away from your dream?”
He can’t even say it out loud - do you blame my mother’s death for making you drop out of law school? He can’t. He can’t even begin to fathom this idea - that Joo-hyun who loved his mother like the mother she never had, who shuttled back and forth from Seoul to Bu-san to attend her countless chemo sessions, would resent his mother’s death as the reason for taking her away from her dream. That’s not Joo-hyun, that’s not… it can’t be…
She looks away, blotting at her tears with the back of her hand and the silence, the lack of a rebuttal all but shatters his heart.
“Tell me honestly, Joo-hyun.”
It’s as if those words release a switch within her, unleashing another burst of unfiltered emotion. “I do! Maybe I do. I had all these plans… all these dreams. You… you were never part of the plan. But somehow my whole world became all about you.” Her lip quivers. “Sometimes, I wake up in the morning, and I look at myself and I don’t even know how I got here. Do you know how scary that is?”
He knows his wife is hurting, knows how hard it was for her to even come to that place of admission, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hurt too, by what she’s said. “I never made you,” He says, his voice low and stubborn, to his ears. “I didn’t make you give up law school for me.”
Joo-hyun’s laugh is breathy, disbelieving. “Come on, Yong-hwa,” She says. “You were grieving. You were heartbroken when your mother died. You wanted to drop out of FNC - don’t lie, I saw it in your eyes the day I came back from her funeral, when I joined you back on tour. Do you know how much it would have cost you if you quit? Did you think FNC was just going to let you walk away, after all the money and the time they’d invested in you?” She shakes her head. “But that’s always been you. You’ve always lived in the moment. Act first, think later. You would have walked away, not knowing… not thinking what it could have spelled for you in the future. I had to stay. I had to stay to make you stay.”
Yong-hwa takes a step back; it’s as if her words have knocked all the breath out of him. He is having a hard time meeting her eye, because this is Joo-hyun. This is his wife, and all this time, this is what she’s thought of him? As someone impulsive and rash, someone whose mistakes she always had to clean up after? Has she always thought that about me? “So you stayed because you had no choice.”
Maybe Joo-hyun picks up on the spite in his words, because her words are also bitter. “Since you signed that contract with FNC, have we ever had any choice left?” She laughs, but it’s brittle. “The last real choice you made was marrying me, and look how we’re paying for that now. Maybe we shouldn’t ever have gotten married. Maybe this is the universe telling us we shouldn’t have forced our paths together. Why did you do it, Yong-hwa? Why did you marry me?”
He can’t take it any longer.
“I married you because I had to!” He explodes. “You’d given up everything for me - law school, your dreams. You don’t think I knew that? You don’t think it gnawed away at me every night we were on tour - this guilt that I was making you sacrifice so much for me? I knew. I fucking knew. This was the only way I could repay you. By marrying you.”
The minute the words leave his mouth, he knows they’re all twisted and wrong, and any last semblance of anger is replaced by this crushing sense of guilt, this compulsive need to take it all back. But the damage is already done.
Joo-hyun’s face is deathly pale, as if she has just been slapped.
He takes a step forward, only to have her back up one step, like some kind of misshapen tango, and his heart sinks further in his chest. “Joo-hyun, sweetheart, I swear that’s not what I - ”
Her voice is shaking, and he forces himself to meet her eyes; wide and filled with tears. “You married me because you… you felt like you owed me a debt?”
“No, Joo-hyun, of course not -”
“Don’t lie to me, Jung Yong-hwa!” Joo-hyun shouts, shocking him, but then she is passing a hand over her eyes, the words mangled but nonetheless pleading. “Please, don’t lie to me right now.”
He feels like the lowest possible thing in this planet, a complete fuck-up as he watches her fall apart before his eyes, uncontrollable sobs racking her shoulders. He can’t just stand here and watch his wife believe this lie about why he married her.
He married her for more than this; he knows he did, but… but in some way, it is also the truth. He did marry her because… what else could he have done, when she’d given up so much? What else could he have chosen? There was no way but this.
Yong-hwa grips her shoulders, but she shakes him off roughly, refusing to be held. “Joo-hyun, please.”
She pulls back, and this close, Yong-hwa registers several things: the redness of her eyes, the ruining of her immaculate make up, but beyond all that - a bleakness in her eyes, a distinct deadness in the way she looks at him. Almost as if all the faith she had in him has been shattered.
Slowly, she slides the wedding band on her fourth finger off, and panic wells up in him like blood from a fresh cut. “No.”
He tells himself he will not accept it; he will fucking force it back on her hand if he has to, but it’s as if his body isn’t listening, not when she uncurls his fingers forcibly, dropping the ring into his empty palm.
“Here,” Joo-hyun say, quiet now, all the fight gone out of her. Her fingers are cold, but they do not shake. “Consider this your debt paid.”