Round 16: A Song In Too High A Key To Sing (1/2)
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
Joon is a bitch.
Well, at least that's what he is if you ask almost any woman.
He was polite enough. Holding doors open, letting ladies go first, helping the elderly with their groceries (unless they thought he was robbing them and they swatted him with their canes) and many other gentlemanly things... but all of that pales in comparison to the evils he's done.
Personally, I don't know how credible the stories I hear about him are, but the one phrase that remains the same regardless of who I hear these tales from is: "Joon is a bitch."
So is Joon a bitch?
He hogs the bathroom in the morning and loses almost everything you let him borrow, but does that make him a bitch?
I suppose I should start asking people.
It's been two years since I've seen Mir. Two years since he got back home from his military duty.
To be honest, I nearly forgot about him until I got an invitation in the mail, urging me to come to a baby shower.
It still wasn't for a couple of weeks, but seeing that country address again brought Mir back to my mind. I wondered if the military had finally tamed him, since no one else seemed capable of doing so. Or if it wasn't the military, it was probably his wife who'd managed to teach him how to censor himself.
Even after all of this time, I remember how chaotic Mir could be on his own. How loud he always was, how frightened many people were of him the first time they met him since he never seemed to learn about personal space...
Maybe he was still the same old Mir who couldn't walk ten feet without stirring trouble?
Maybe he really had changed?
There was no way of knowing until I saw him again. The baby shower wouldn't be the best place to catch up, so I guess I should just throw a party and invite the whole crew for old time's sake.
Let me explain a few things.
My name is Sanghyun. I've had other names, but it's been years since I've gone by them, since I've been called them, since I last answered to them.
MBLAQ hasn't existed for quite some time now. I think we're going on five years.
There wasn't some terrible scandal that caused us to disband, no fighting that split us apart, no lawsuits that kept us in and out of court... We just silently faded from the spotlight. Well, that's what I say when I get asked that, but it was really just a long string of bad luck.
Injuries, poor health, deaths in the family... one by one, things happened that kept all five of us from standing on stage together. Then, right when everyone seemed to recover, Seungho had an accident. Yet another injury to add to the list.
His leg required surgery and, for the most part, the operation went well... but it left him with a permanent limp. He could walk just fine, but he'd never be able to dance on stage again.
By this point, it had been twenty months since MBLAQ had released an album or promoted, and before news of Seungho's surgery got out to the public, company executives decided to pull the plug on the group.
To be honest, I doubt we were truly missed. We'd been out of the public eye for so long and so many other groups had debuted or made comebacks that the company didn't even bother with an official disbandment annoucement.
We just faded.
That was five years ago and, like most people do, we all drifted apart.
In the beginning, we all put in an effort to stay in contact with each other, especially as Seungho recovered, but the calls got shorter and shorter until they were nothing but awkward silences and excuses to hang up.
All I know is that Mir moved back to the country, met a girl, got married, and did his military service. Now he's having a child.
Seungho moved to a small town further south, close to the coast. I visited him out there a few times in the early days, but now the drive feels too far, too unnecessary.
I kept in contact with Byunghee the least these past five years. He had his own radio show in the months leading up to Seungho's accident, but he grew distant from us, spoke of leaving the country. He didn't tell us why he wanted to leave so bad, but I had a feeling that he thought leaving the country was the only way to escape our "curse." That if he stayed near us, he'd be the next to get involved in a serious accident. I'm not sure where he is these days.
Joon... He's the only one whose popularity allowed him to stay in the limelight after MBLAQ disbanded. Whether it was acting in movies and dramas, making guest appearances at performing arts schools or walking the runways sporting designer ensembles, his face was always on magazine covers, on television screens, on posters in teenage girl's bedrooms. He's releasing his second solo album soon.
Me? I work at a sandwich shop in downtown Seoul.
The deli sits at a busy corner in the shopping district. It's a small building, but the big door and the awning are flourescent green, an attempt to stand out amongst the army of boutique shops and family-owned restaurants.
It's a decent job that pays well enough, so I can't really complain.
The owner is a short, big-boned woman who many people don't take seriously because they think she's slow in the head. That's not the case. She's an intelligent woman, majored in psychology, quit school to get married, promising herself she'd go back and finish her degree but just never getting the time to until ten, twenty, thirty years passed. She just moves at her own pace (far too slow for this impatient generation) and she pauses at... awkward places in her sentences so... it's kinda... painful to listen to... her talk sometimes.
Because of this, customers tend to flock to me when they have issues and my few coworkers treat me like a manager even though I don't have such a title.
I don't mind.
The attention is quite nice. It reminds me of the greatness I once had, the crowds that once swarmed me, the cameras that once flashed in my direction...
...but this story isn't about me.
It's about Joon, and why everyone thinks he's a bitch.
There are so many things in life that you have to let go of... and the letting go is easier when you're prepared. It's easier when you don't get sad about it, when you doing fight to keep a hold of it. It's so much easier when you just let it go, because life itself is fickle, so you can't expect anything to stay around forever.
Batteries eventually run dry... Relationships grow stale... Friends grow uninterested... Flowers wilt...
Even life itself eventually fades.
That's why MBLAQ disbanding didn't shake me up as bad as many people expected.
I knew it was coming, deep down. With the five of us in and out of the hospital for various reasons, we were all suddenly aware of our limitations.
That we can only give 100% for so long before our bodies start giving out on us.
Somewhere down the line, I subconsciously realized that MBLAQ wouldn't, couldn't, go much further. So when Seungho had his accident, when a simple miscalculation in dance steps sent him tumbling off the outdoor stage, I knew we'd gotten as far as we were able, even before he hit the ground. Before I heard the snap of his bones, before he started crying and screaming.
I knew we were through in the minutes (well, it felt like minutes) that he floated through the air towards the asphalt.
"You want to throw a party?" Sandara asked, her skepticism practically pouring through the phone.
"Yeah." I replied. "I want to see them again." I said, although I'm sure she knew (in the way sisters know everything) why I so suddenly wanted to throw a party.
"I don't think it's a good idea." She said, sounding distracted, like something else had caught her attention right as she started speaking.
"Why not?" I asked.
"You'll only bring more pain trying to patch things up."
"Nothing needs patching." I corrected. "Everything's fine. We just haven't seen or heard from each other in five years. It'll be like a reunion." I tried to sound cheerful, but the more I explained myself, the less exciting the idea seemed to be.
Sandara must have sensed my change in mood. "If you haven't talked to each other in so long, that obviously means you've all moved on."
I got a tad angry. 2NE1 was at the peak of their careers, receiving worldwide attention, accepting awards and accolades in several countries.
She had no clue about how I felt, about trying to reconnect with the only success I'd ever had.
Suddenly, I wanted to have that party again. "It'll be a good thing." I said, as much to convince her as to convince myself. "It's closure."
My sister still didn't sound too happy, but she gave me Joon's number anyway.
It took me two whole days to build up the courage to dial Joon's number. It took two tries for him to actually answer, two minutes to calm him down enough to explain that I wasn't some fan who'd acquired his number... but it only took two seconds for him to remember me.
Joon hadn't changed much at all. We talked in rapid bursts, firing questions and answers at each other like soldiers on opposing sides shooting bullets.
For a moment, it was like old times. Countless memories of staying up until the wee hours of the morning, doing nothing but talking since neither of us were tired enough to sleep even though we'd been awake for over a day.
He told me how overrated stardom was, how he'd give it all up just to go one day without hearing a phone ring, to sleep in the same bed two nights in a row.
I told him how I lived comfortably. How I went to the same job day in and day out, saw the same people, said the same things. I was bored out of my mind with the repetition, with the robotic routine.
Joon told me he'd love to be in my shoes, to live a normal life, wear normal clothes.
I told him I'd love to stand on stage again, to be in front of a crowd and flashing cameras.
We both got quiet after that, listening to each other breathe for nearly a full minute before he came up with an excuse to hang up.
He did promise he'd try to come to the party, though.
I had no way of getting a hold of Byunghee, so Seungho was next on my list. Unfortunately, his number, that had sat untouched in my contacts list for years, was disconnected. I'm sure he just got a new phone, a new number.
For a while, I considered making the long drive to the southern coast. I played the route out in my head, which highways to take, which exits... I was surprised at how easily it all came back to me, how the long and straight highways eventually gave way to two-lane roads that zig-zagged across the landscape, past small towns and lakes before emptying out in front of the sea.
It took a bit more effort to remember exactly which house Seungho lived in, but now that I had it in my mind, I wanted to make that trip even more, even with the high possibility that he didn't even live there anymore.
Maybe I'll hold off on that a bit.
Maybe after I find Byunghee.
Maybe.
What exactly classifies someone as a bitch?
Is it a rude or holier-than-thou attitude?
Is it a habit of always making things worse or more difficult for other people?
If this is what a bitch is, I don't think Joon is one.
He's such a humble person. Not just because we were so close at one point, but because everything he does feels so raw and genuine.
I think it was just in the way he told me he'd love to live a normal life. In how willingly he'd give up the money and the cars and the fame just to be able to sleep comfortably at night.
It was the way he sounded so tired as he said it, voice raspy and strained from talking all day.
No. Someone like that can't be a bitch. Not even on a bad day.
I had to get a second opinion. I had to find out why I'd been hearing such horrible things about him from what few celebrity friends I still kept in contact with.
I started off with Sandara.
"You still thinking of having that party?" She said as a way of greeting when she answered her phone. "I still think it's a bad idea." There was no power in her voice though, like she knew that no amount of arguing would change my mind. "You'd be better off writing letters or something."
I wanted to ask her how she would feel if I told her to just write letters to Chaerin or Bom if 2NE1 ever broke up. I want to tell her how bad of an idea that would be, just to piss her off.
I decided not to start an argument today.
"Yeah. I should write letters." I said. "Send invitations. Hope the guys show." It would be far damn easier than driving all over the country, hoping these boys were predictable enough to be in the same place they were five years ago.
There was an awkward pause. I'm sure Sandara was just as confused about me taking her advice as I was.
"Are you serious?" She finally asked. If she were standing in front of me, I'm sure she'd be leaning towards my face, inspecting my eyes and lips for twitching or any other sign that I was lying.
"I'll probably just visit Mir." I say.
"Okay." She said, drawing out the last syllable just to emphasize the fact that she wasn't sure what was going on.
We hung up and I dropped my phone into the passenger seat next to me.
The thing is, I'd already driven to Mir's house.
Mir's house was small, painted white, and sat quite a ways back from the road. It was almost hidden from view by a row of bushes that had grown out of control.
Someone in the house must have seen me pull up the long driveway because the front door swung open as I got out the car.
A petite woman stepped out onto the porch. Her long hair hung halfway down her back, she wore no makeup, but her top looked relatively expensive.
"Is Mir home?" I asked, wondering if I had somehow chosen the wrong farm house to drive up to.
She looked at me more intently, then nodded. "Yeah, he is. You're his friend from way back in the day, aren't you?"
I smiled and nodded. Was 'friend' the only title I was given when Mir talked about his past?
There's no way I could be mad. Even to me, that all felt like a lifetime ago.
She motioned for me to follow her, then retreated back into the house. "My name's Ji by the way." She called out to me from inside.
I hurried up the steps and into the house, kicking off my shoes as I went. The house smelled like laundry detergent and coffee, a surprisingly pleasant combination.
Ji led me through the living room, where a pile of laundry sat on the couch, ready to be ironed and folded. She returned to the ironing board and, from the large windows at the front of the room, you could see clear across the yard, up the driveway and out to the main road.
"Mir!" Ji shouted, startling me with the sudden increase in volume. "You have a guest."
It wasn't until now that I noticed she was obviously pregnant. I remembered why I even thought of Mir recently: the baby shower.
I was seconds away from asking her if she should be ironing, if she should even be standing, but Mir showed up in the doorway. He'd kept his hair buzzed short, and the army had noticeably aged him. I knew he was younger than me, but he looked so mature.
"Sanghyun." He said quietly.
"Mir." The name slipped from my mouth.
He looked decent. Tired, but happy. "So you got the invitation?" Mir asked. "Did you read it? The shower is in August, not June." A slow smile spread across his face.
"I just wanted to see you." I explained, painfully aware of his wife's obvious eavesdropping. "I just wanted to see everybody."
Mir's smile faded, like I'd just ruined the mood. "To be honest, I've hardly thought about them." He sighed. "Let's sit down and talk, shall we?" He pointed towards the doorway he'd come through and I followed.
The house was smaller than I originally thought. The windows were open and a warm breeze drifted through the place, rustling papers on desks and causing a windchime somewhere outside to dance and sing.
He led me past the narrow kitchen, past the cramped bathroom. I thought he'd lead me to the back of the house, where the bedrooms were, but he paused in the middle of the hallway. The window at the far end let in a gust of air, making the heat in the house slightly more bearable for all of five seconds.
"I'm not saying I'm unhappy to see you..." He began. "I just didn't think you'd show up out of the blue like this... not before the shower, anyway." He stood completely still, arms at his side, eyes connecting with mine, studying me.
Mir wasn't the same man I knew back then. He didn't match up with my memories of him.
Where were the obnoxiously laughs? The loud burps? The constant fidgeting?
Seeing him be so quiet, so still... it was unnerving. It wasn't Mir.
...but then again, time changes people.
Was the fact that he seemed so different a good thing? It had to be better than someone saying "you look the same" or "you haven't changed a bit" when they hadn't seen you in years. It's a common thing to say at reunions, but just how awful is it to be accused of never changing?
"You're exactly how I remember you." Mir told me.
I stayed for lunch at the Bang household. Ji continued working her way through the pile of laundry, which made me worried so I asked Mir if she should be doing that.
"She won't listen to me." Mir explained. "I've told her time and time again to take it easy, but she tells me she's got it under control, that no one knows her body better than she does." He pushed his food around on his plate a bit. It was the most Mir-like thing I'd seen him do.
To be honest, I hadn't thought this far ahead. All I wanted to do was talk to them all again. The conversation with Joon was fine because we were still separated, only our cell phones tethered us together... but being face-to-face with Mir was a different situation.
This close up to him, I was forced to look at him and count the number of differences his expression held since the last time I'd seen him. His face was bonier, like he'd lost weight, but I could tell that the army had kept him in shape.
He must have noticed me staring. "Am I that different?" He asked me, finally lifting a forkful of food to his lips.
I nodded. "It takes a lot of getting used to." I might as well be honest.
"I was just ready." He said, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper.
"Ready for what?" I wondered.
"To drop the act." He said, which still didn't help me understand what he was talking about. "To stop pretending to be an adult." He clarified. "Being an idol was fun... but it was dangerous. You were constantly under the threat of being injured, emotionally or physically." He stopped talking, placing his fork back on the plate, his food untouched. "The military isn't much different. The danger is still the same. Except this time around, you're prepared to handle it."
Unable to keep holding his gaze, I looked down at my own food.
"We all got hurt." Mir went on. "When Seungho's surgery didn't go as planned, I think we all realized that we'd gone as far as we could."
He had a point.
Back in the day, news of idols being involved in accidents or winding up in the hospital were so common that people were rarely shocked or surprised... but there was still a life at stake. I'd read enough forums to know that the fans wanting us to recover was only superficial. They didn't truly care about our health.
They only wanted us back on stage.
"He could have died that day." Mir said, snapping me out of my thoughts. "He could just have easily landed on his head... or neck." I looked up at him long enough to see him bite his bottom lip. "I thought nothing of it back then." He said once he'd calmed down some. "But during my service, all I could think about is how easily he could have... how we could have lost him. Yet all I read about on news sites were how hopeful our management team was about how soon he'd be back on stage again."
His eyes were moist with coming tears, but he didn't let a single tear fall.
"He was scared shitless." Mir recalled. "Seungho, I mean. He'd never been in the hospital for something so serious. He was afraid of being put under... He was afraid of the heavy painkillers they were constantly feeding him... I think even before the surgery, he knew his performing days were over."
I noticed that Ji had stopped ironing. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted her lingering by the kitchen doorway, listening in.
"He acted so brave, though." I said. If I remember correctly, Seungho was always smiling and laughing, telling me he'd be alright, that it didn't hurt, that I should stop crying.
"It's all an act." Mir mumbled. "That whole situation opened my eyes, Sanghyun. The moment it became clear that our company was gonna dump us because of Seungho's limp... I knew I couldn't put up with that shit anymore. Even if they hadn't disbanded us, I would have quit. It was too much."
He was getting emotional now, and if I concentrated, I could pretend it was five years ago and Mir was just complaining about how he never had time to sleep or even eat. Back then, I tuned him out, but now, all I wanted to do was hear him speak.
Now I was starting to feel bad. Joon had grown tired of this lifestyle's constant demands and lack of privacy... Mir had grown tired of being treated like a robot or a puppet that was only good for being commanded, whose health and well-being were just obstacles in a company's money-making venture or a fan's unquenchable desire to be entertained.
Yet, despite that, all I wanted to do was be Thunder again.
I got back to Seoul long after dark. It was a weeknight, so the roads were relatively empty. Silver buildings lit up by neon lights stretched towards a black sky.
Headlights slipped past my view on the other side of the road, the closest thing to stars I could get since the brightness of the city blocked the light of the ones up above.
Talking to Mir, honestly, didn't go how I had dreamed.
I imagined that we'd be all hugs and smiles, all shoulder pats and back patting. I thought we'd spend the afternoon talking about Mir becoming a father, or how our lives were now, or laughing at stories that started with "remember that one time..."
Of course, there are many times when what we hope for isn't what we get.
Instead, all I got was a reminder of how cruel people can be... how we were degraded to nothing but tools and how we were too young to even realize we were being treated like shit.
At first, I thought idol's young ages were good things. Talents could be nutured over the years, skills could be taught and learned more easily if the minds were young and eager...
Now I know that it was all a trick. Taking young teenagers from their homes, from their schools and friends, "training" them day in and day out, working them to their limits and beyond... It wasn't exactly evil, but my God, it came close.
Sure, the rewards are priceless. Fame, the possibility of fortune, making a living doing what you're passionate about... They were all nice things to have, but risky things to keep. Devoted fans, reporters skewing your words in interviews, everything you do being either criticized or copied...
We never caught a break. We could never catch our breaths.
The bad things far outweighed the good.
Was that really a life I wanted to go back to? Especially after all of these years?
Driving down that empty road, passing office buildings and parking garages and restaurants and clubs, I couldn't help but think about this.
Now that I was free, liberated from the industry, I could date who I wanted, eat what I wanted, wear what I wanted... yet here I was, working at a deli, living paycheck to paycheck...
At least when I was an idol, there was excitement. There was no room for routine. I may have been tired all the time, but I was rarely ever bored. You get used to the cameras, the critics, the fans... It's all a part of the job.
Right now, I wanted it more than anything. Definitely more that going home each night, smelling like roast beef.
Sleep came to me that night in fits and starts. In the minutes I was asleep, all I did was dream of the limelight, the choreography, the screaming crowd... when I was awake, all I did was replay my dreams in my head repeatedly, so that I'd never forget them.
"Joon is a bitch." Chaerin said on the phone. I could hear her smacking her gum as she talked. "Not that he's mean or anything... but people hate inviting him to parties."
"Why?" I asked, truly interested. "Does he drink all the beer? Ruin the mood by throwing up continously or having an emotional breakdown right in front of everybody?"
"What?" She asked. "The fuck? No." She laughed. "What?"
"Nothing." I mumbled. "I just watch too many movies."
She was quiet a moment. I could hear conversations in the background, footsteps, doors slamming shut. She was obviously somewhere busy and the only reason I was even talking to her was because I'd convinced Sandara to hand her the phone.
"Well, are you going to tell me why he's a bitch or not?" I prompted.
"Oh yeah, sorry." She said. "Him being drunk isn't the problem. It's him acting like he's drunk."
"Huh?"
"He might have a cup in his hand, but he never sips it. I've watched him. He just mingles with the crowd, tilts it toward his face like he might drink it, then finds another circle of people to chat with." She paused, and based on the sound, she was blowing a bubble. After it popped, she continued. "I don't really care if he doesn't truly drink, but give him half an hour and he's pretending he's drunk. Stumbling, slurring, bumping into people, knocking over things. It's actually kinda funny."
I frowned.
All of this time, I thought Joon had done something seriously offensive... but no, he's just a pretend-drunk.
"Is that it?" I asked.
"No." Chaerin said and my heart filled with joy.
"Tell me." I asked, trying to hide my excitement.
"He likes to hit on people." She said, voice so low I could hardly hear her over the background noise. "And not just regular people... well, they are regular people, never mind... but he likes to hit on people who aren't single... and who are guys..."
I let out a noise that sounded like a bird's squack, then clamped my hand over my mouth.
"What was that?" Chaerin asked.
"Nothing."
"Was that you?" She chuckled.
"Is that why all of the girls think he's a bitch?" I avoided her question.
"Yeah, he hits on their boyfriends." Chaerin said, blowing another bubble.
This new piece of news shocked me, but at the same time, it didn't even surprise me. Is that possible? To be floored by this information, yet not really be blown away by it?
I know I'm not making any sense. Maybe the strangeness of what I found out is still trying to register in my brain, which is why I'm still shocked-but-not-surprised?
Joon's a boyfriend stealer?
Of all the definitions of "bitch" that there are, I never would have pegged Joon with that one.
I mean, it's so easy for me to picture him stumbling around, knocking over things, falling onto the couch next to some legitimately drunk party-goer, he mumbles a few things in their ear, pets them a little, the other guy is too drunk to resist immediately, his girlfriend spots them, flies into a rage... It just all fit so perfectly.
Joon, you are a bitch.
I could learn from you.
Later that day, I had firmly decided to make the drive down to the coast and see if Seungho still lived in that same house.
It was a long shot, of course, but even if I didn't find him, it wouldn't hurt to spend a day at the beach, right?
"We're gonna call him out on his bullshit." Sandara told me over the phone.
"Call who out?" I asked her, since that was how she decided to answer the phone.
"Joon." She clarified. "We're going to call him out on his bullshit. It'll be awesome."
This is where my morals started acting up.
On one hand, it's always fun to see someone get served, but on the other hand, this was Joon.
I still felt some kind of obligation to him, that even after all of this time, I had to defend him.
It's been five years, though. The majority of that time was spent not even thinking about the man. Then, all of a sudden, I want to make my past my present again...
"Hello?" Sandara asked.
"I'm still here." I said quickly, still caught up in my internal debate.
This was tough.
I listened to Sandara go on and on about how she'd throw a party specifically for the purpose of humiliating Joon. She'd invite some pretty big-name stars, get all of the guests in on it, serve only non-alcoholic drinks. Apparently, she'd been planning this out even since Chaerin repeated the story to her.
While she told me her plan, I couldn't help but be filled with dread.
Should I tell Joon? Warn him? But that would certainly mean being forced to tell him that quite a few people had figured out his game. I'm terrible at delivering bad news.
I could let this all play out. Joon would go to that party and his "drinking habits" would be revealed to everyone. It might be just the push he needs to finally quit the business, but could I really just stand by and watch something like that happen to someone I consider a friend, a brother?
"So are you gonna come to the party?" Sandara asked me, she seemed out of breath from her long explanation that I didn't even listen to.
"Yeah." I said and felt bad for it the second it left my mouth.
'The past should stay in the past.'
Everyone has heard that little piece of advice.
There's other gold, such as 'only look forward. never look back.'
All of these things seem to teach people that it's totally okay to be ashamed of things you've done, as long as you 'move on.' Or, maybe, not looking back is supposed to prevent you from feeling shame?
There are things in my past I'd love to get back, to experience again, to try differently, to attempt to change... Of course, that's impossible, but the fact that it can't happen doesn't keep me from dreaming about it. How different would things be if I had made other choices?
It's extremely easy to get lost in the web of possible events.
Would I have ever met the others? Would MBLAQ still be the same? Would it even exist? Would the group still be soldeiring on now?
I want to wonder, but I know that no amount of thinking will change the luck we had, bring our fame back. It's gone now. All of it. In a world as fickle as the entertainment business, things come and go. It doesn't take long for something new to come around, but whether that new thing stays or fades is completely unpredictable.
Now I'm getting depressed.
Maybe that's the real reason why people say you should just let go of the past.
The fact that you can't change it, no matter how much you want to, is just plain sad.
That's why the future is so appealing. There's so much to look forward to. There's so much room for change.
Hopefully, I'll have the guts to change my current situation, so that my future will be one I won't think back on, counting the ways I'd love to change it.
Here's hoping I won't still be working at that sandwich shop, or staying in an apartment complex not too far from a university, or spending my weekends hanging out at clubs and praying someone recognizes me...
Just like that, it hit me. A bolt of inspiration so powerful it made me sit up in bed with a gasp:
I need to stop moping around. Either I claim the spotlight again, or I abandon the thought of it for good.
"Have things gotten any better?" I ask Joon. My epiphany didn't allow me to sleep, so I was thankful that Joon was free to talk at five in the morning.
"Not really. Why do you ask?" Joon wondered.
To be honest, I wasn't totally sure why I'd asked. I guess I was hoping he'd tell me that he was just in a slump and that he'd bounced back, that he'd fallen in love with it all over again.
I don't know, I guess I was looking for some type of reassurance that I was making the right decision.
Maybe I was expecting him to go on and on about the horrors of the business, hammer in the point that the decision I was making was bad and that I should just stick to the life I've got now.
"Is something the matter?" Joon asked.
"Yeah." I said, more to myself than to him.
"Oh, Sanghyun, what's the matter?" Joon asked, and I couldn't tell if the concern in his voice was genuine or mocking.
With Sandara, I could never tell. She'd sound truly interested in my problems and difficulties only to zone out while I was talking to her. It always made me feel awful, like what I was going through amounted to nothing.
"Sanghyun, you there?" Joon went on.
"Yeah... Yeah... Just thinking." I said. Could I tell this to Joon? It's been five years since we've seen each other in person. Was it this easy to go back to spilling all my secrets to him? Was it possible to trust him after all this time? Or did I even deserve that trust knowing good and well that Sandara was planning to undo him?
Should I... warn him? Would he believe me?
Instead, all I could say was: "Do you know where Byunghee is these days?"
I hadn't actually watched the sun set in weeks. I watched as the sky went from the pearlescent pink of twilight to the navy of night. The tall skyscrapers of Seoul were decorated in their neon lights as the street lights flickered on.
Despite the beautiful sight, I was nervous as hell. My fingers shook as I held the car keys in my hand. I couldn't even steady myself long enough to put them in the ignition.
It turned out that Joon knew exactly where Byunghee was. He gave me the address to a club where he bartends. Joon told me that he'd gone there a few nights and saw him behind the counter, mixing drinks. They spoke to each other well enough, although it was obvious to Joon that Byunghee was doing everything he could to stay away from his "old life."
Well, I was about to bring his old life right to him...
...if I could stop trembling.
An hour later, I found myself on the far side of the city.
It was a Saturday night, so the streets were packed with people as they began their bar-hopping adventures for the night. Girls in their short dresses. Guys in their v-necks and blazers. It's been ages since I've gone out like this. It's been far too long.
The club itself wasn't some dingy place with an alley entrance, but rather more of a lounge, where people went to sit, drink and people watch rather than to dance.
I made my way inside and cut a path through the crowd straight to the bar.
There he was.
He'd let his facial hair grow out, but it was neatly trimmed. The black shirt he was wearing clung to his form, his shoulders flexing as he poured drinks.
I watched him for a good five minutes before he even turned in my direction.
I don't blame him. I had purposefully sat on the empty side of the bar.
"What can I... get for you?" He stumbled over his words, leaning on the counter in an obvious attempt to get a better look at me.
"Whatever you think I'll like." I said casually, tracing a pattern on the wood counter.
A second or two passed and I looked up and met his eyes.
He was staring at me so intently that it sent a chill down my spine.
"Sanghyun." He said plainly, in a tone that was neither celabratory nor admonishing.
"Byunghee." I repeated, trying to match his tone. Deep down, I was thrilled to see him. He still looked good. After so long of not hearing anything from him, I'd expected the worst. In my head, he'd let himself go, gained a lot of weight, stopped taking care of himself now that he was no longer obligated to do so. But... he still looked good.
If the military had tamed Mir, and the industry had worn Joon out, I wonder what ailed Byunghee?
"You look well." I continued the conversation when I realized he was only going to stare.
"I never thought I'd see you again." He said, that stoic tone of his slowly defrosting into something remotely friendly.
I gave him a smile.
A customer on the other side of the bar called out to him. Byunghee turned to leave.
I watched his back, my jaw slowly dropping.
Was that it?
I never thought I'd be able to track him down, and when I finally do, he walks away from me without even saying goodbye?
As soon as I was about to say something I'd regret, he glanced over his shoulder. "Things will start slowing down a bit after midnight. Can you hang out until then?" He asked quickly.
Too enthusiastically, I nodded.
He smiled a bit and turned to the patron who had flagged him down.
I swiveled around on the bar stool, taking in the sights.
Low glass tables sat in front of red, modern chairs. People sat around, clinking glasses, laughing, nibbling on the bite-sized food the lounge offered. Conversations floated through the air while a soft and sultry jazz track with plenty of saxophone played over the speakers.
It was a nice place.
It definitely beat the cramped deli where I worked, where the paint on the walls was chipped and the tables wobbled. Where this place had sleek furnishings with designer touches, the deli didn't even have matching chairs.
Yeah, I'm jealous, to put it simply.
Bartending isn't the most glorious job, but watching Byunghee mingle and flirt with the busty women who wanted one more drink, I couldn't help but feel envious.
Before half an hour had passed, Byunghee came back to my side of the bar, sat a neon blue drink in a martini glass in front of me, told me it was on the house.
I took it without a word. It had been months since I had a drink. It was foolish of him to give me a drink so fruity I couldn't taste the alcohol, couldn't feel myself getting drunk.
"It's virgin." Byunghee clarified with a smirk. "I don't plan on driving you home."
I sighed, relieved but disappointed at the same time. Perhaps all I needed was a good drink, a way to unwind and banish these thoughts that had been running rampant in my head for days. For now, this was enough. I thanked him and took a sip from the glass.
The tropical flavor was strong and sweet, but I wished for the delightful burn of alcohol.
Time passed inconsistently for me. As the crowd came in and out like the tide, time seemed to speed and slow accordingly. When there were people around to watch, the minutes flew by, but as the night went on and the crowd seemed to permanently thin, each second felt like it took hours to pass.
Byunghee talked to me when he could, bits and snippets of conversation between patrons.
"How long have you been out here?" I asked.
"Getting close to three years now." He said, the slightest of smiles on his face. "Before this, I was jumping from job to job. Couldn't keep one at first. I was too... unstable."
"With the disbanding? His surgery?"
"Let's not talk about it." He said calmly, but a hint of anger (or possibly fear) did flash across his face. "How are you?"
"Bored." I said. "Tired of my job. Thinking too much."
He nodded. "That's a problem easily solved."
"What do I have to do?"
"Get a new job." He said. "If you hate your job, get a new one. If you hate your girlfriend, get a new one." He laughed a bit. It was wonderful to see him smile. "If you hate your car, get a new one. If you hate your life, get a new one." He leaned across the bar towards me. "That seems to be everyone's problems these days. They develop emotional attachments to things that won't do them any good. They become too afraid to part with it, afraid that they won't be able to get it back if they wanted to, even if they would be better off without it."
"No one likes to be replaced, though."
"I don't think inanimate objects mind too much."
"You're right." I said, catching a whiff of him. His cologne was rich and woodsy with sweet, delicious undertones. It reminded me of being out in the woods right before it rained, with that strong scent of thunderstorm in the air. He smelled dangerous. "If you hate your past, get a new one." I laughed.
"That's what I did." He said without hesitation, as if he were expecting me to say that. "If anyone asks, I'm from overseas."
"If anyone asks, I'm a nobody."
"If that's what you want to be." He said, he smiled, but I don't think he meant it.
When Byunghee's shift ended, we wound up just walking the streets.
It was past midnight, but there was still a huge crowd out, stopping at the outdoor food stalls, sitting down at an outdoor restaurant, or just making their way to the next club on their list.
The energy in the air was thriving and palpable, like those moments at a concert, right before the performing act takes the stage.
"How's life?" I couldn't help but wonder.
"Great, actually." He told me.
I expected more of an explanation, but he said nothing else.
"I talked to Mir not too long ago." I said, trying to revive the conversation. "He's out the military now. Has been for a while. He's married, about to have his first kid."
Byunghee nodded. "Mir always seemed like the family type to me."
We walked in silence again.
"Joon isn't faring so well, though." I said, not sure how much I should tell.
"The entertainment industry is filled with obstacles." Another of his short answers.
I was starting to get the feeling that he didn't want to talk about any of the guys, didn't want to remember. As much as it's been fluttering around my head, lately, completely forgetting didn't sound half bad.
"What about Seungho?" Byunghee asked, so softly his voice was almost lost in the noise around us.
"I don't know." I answered. "I don't know where he is." I looked over at him, a bit shocked to see that he looked completely distraught. "Just yesterday, I didn't know where you were, either."
"It's not like I was hiding." Byunghee said, raising his voice. He controlled himself, biting his lower lip. "Sorry, I..." He let the sentence hang in the air.
I should have known Seungho would be a bad topic to bring up. Byunghee seemed to be shook up about our leader's accident more than the rest of us. So frightened about the whole thing, he barely visited Seungho in the hospital, seemed to welcome our group's disbanding with open arms, wanted to leave the country... probably in an attempt to start a new life, get as far from us as possible.
Maybe Byunghee wasn't as tough as he always came off as.
"One of the reasons why I wanted to find you was to ask if you knew where he was and if he still lives in that house by the beach."
"No. I don't." Byunghee said after a long pause.
I think bringing it up was too much for him.
As if hearing my thoughts, he continued. "I should have kept in touch with you all. I was just scared. I felt like I was losing everything... Somewhere down the line, I thought it..." He was stumbling over his words now. He seemed on the verge of tears.
I reached out, put a hand on his shoulder. I half expected him to jerk away, like he almost always did back in the day, but he leaned into the touch, almost colliding with me as we walked.
"Let's stop for a bit." I spoke up. "I think the place up the block serves coffee."
Next
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
Joon is a bitch.
Well, at least that's what he is if you ask almost any woman.
He was polite enough. Holding doors open, letting ladies go first, helping the elderly with their groceries (unless they thought he was robbing them and they swatted him with their canes) and many other gentlemanly things... but all of that pales in comparison to the evils he's done.
Personally, I don't know how credible the stories I hear about him are, but the one phrase that remains the same regardless of who I hear these tales from is: "Joon is a bitch."
So is Joon a bitch?
He hogs the bathroom in the morning and loses almost everything you let him borrow, but does that make him a bitch?
I suppose I should start asking people.
It's been two years since I've seen Mir. Two years since he got back home from his military duty.
To be honest, I nearly forgot about him until I got an invitation in the mail, urging me to come to a baby shower.
It still wasn't for a couple of weeks, but seeing that country address again brought Mir back to my mind. I wondered if the military had finally tamed him, since no one else seemed capable of doing so. Or if it wasn't the military, it was probably his wife who'd managed to teach him how to censor himself.
Even after all of this time, I remember how chaotic Mir could be on his own. How loud he always was, how frightened many people were of him the first time they met him since he never seemed to learn about personal space...
Maybe he was still the same old Mir who couldn't walk ten feet without stirring trouble?
Maybe he really had changed?
There was no way of knowing until I saw him again. The baby shower wouldn't be the best place to catch up, so I guess I should just throw a party and invite the whole crew for old time's sake.
Let me explain a few things.
My name is Sanghyun. I've had other names, but it's been years since I've gone by them, since I've been called them, since I last answered to them.
MBLAQ hasn't existed for quite some time now. I think we're going on five years.
There wasn't some terrible scandal that caused us to disband, no fighting that split us apart, no lawsuits that kept us in and out of court... We just silently faded from the spotlight. Well, that's what I say when I get asked that, but it was really just a long string of bad luck.
Injuries, poor health, deaths in the family... one by one, things happened that kept all five of us from standing on stage together. Then, right when everyone seemed to recover, Seungho had an accident. Yet another injury to add to the list.
His leg required surgery and, for the most part, the operation went well... but it left him with a permanent limp. He could walk just fine, but he'd never be able to dance on stage again.
By this point, it had been twenty months since MBLAQ had released an album or promoted, and before news of Seungho's surgery got out to the public, company executives decided to pull the plug on the group.
To be honest, I doubt we were truly missed. We'd been out of the public eye for so long and so many other groups had debuted or made comebacks that the company didn't even bother with an official disbandment annoucement.
We just faded.
That was five years ago and, like most people do, we all drifted apart.
In the beginning, we all put in an effort to stay in contact with each other, especially as Seungho recovered, but the calls got shorter and shorter until they were nothing but awkward silences and excuses to hang up.
All I know is that Mir moved back to the country, met a girl, got married, and did his military service. Now he's having a child.
Seungho moved to a small town further south, close to the coast. I visited him out there a few times in the early days, but now the drive feels too far, too unnecessary.
I kept in contact with Byunghee the least these past five years. He had his own radio show in the months leading up to Seungho's accident, but he grew distant from us, spoke of leaving the country. He didn't tell us why he wanted to leave so bad, but I had a feeling that he thought leaving the country was the only way to escape our "curse." That if he stayed near us, he'd be the next to get involved in a serious accident. I'm not sure where he is these days.
Joon... He's the only one whose popularity allowed him to stay in the limelight after MBLAQ disbanded. Whether it was acting in movies and dramas, making guest appearances at performing arts schools or walking the runways sporting designer ensembles, his face was always on magazine covers, on television screens, on posters in teenage girl's bedrooms. He's releasing his second solo album soon.
Me? I work at a sandwich shop in downtown Seoul.
The deli sits at a busy corner in the shopping district. It's a small building, but the big door and the awning are flourescent green, an attempt to stand out amongst the army of boutique shops and family-owned restaurants.
It's a decent job that pays well enough, so I can't really complain.
The owner is a short, big-boned woman who many people don't take seriously because they think she's slow in the head. That's not the case. She's an intelligent woman, majored in psychology, quit school to get married, promising herself she'd go back and finish her degree but just never getting the time to until ten, twenty, thirty years passed. She just moves at her own pace (far too slow for this impatient generation) and she pauses at... awkward places in her sentences so... it's kinda... painful to listen to... her talk sometimes.
Because of this, customers tend to flock to me when they have issues and my few coworkers treat me like a manager even though I don't have such a title.
I don't mind.
The attention is quite nice. It reminds me of the greatness I once had, the crowds that once swarmed me, the cameras that once flashed in my direction...
...but this story isn't about me.
It's about Joon, and why everyone thinks he's a bitch.
There are so many things in life that you have to let go of... and the letting go is easier when you're prepared. It's easier when you don't get sad about it, when you doing fight to keep a hold of it. It's so much easier when you just let it go, because life itself is fickle, so you can't expect anything to stay around forever.
Batteries eventually run dry... Relationships grow stale... Friends grow uninterested... Flowers wilt...
Even life itself eventually fades.
That's why MBLAQ disbanding didn't shake me up as bad as many people expected.
I knew it was coming, deep down. With the five of us in and out of the hospital for various reasons, we were all suddenly aware of our limitations.
That we can only give 100% for so long before our bodies start giving out on us.
Somewhere down the line, I subconsciously realized that MBLAQ wouldn't, couldn't, go much further. So when Seungho had his accident, when a simple miscalculation in dance steps sent him tumbling off the outdoor stage, I knew we'd gotten as far as we were able, even before he hit the ground. Before I heard the snap of his bones, before he started crying and screaming.
I knew we were through in the minutes (well, it felt like minutes) that he floated through the air towards the asphalt.
"You want to throw a party?" Sandara asked, her skepticism practically pouring through the phone.
"Yeah." I replied. "I want to see them again." I said, although I'm sure she knew (in the way sisters know everything) why I so suddenly wanted to throw a party.
"I don't think it's a good idea." She said, sounding distracted, like something else had caught her attention right as she started speaking.
"Why not?" I asked.
"You'll only bring more pain trying to patch things up."
"Nothing needs patching." I corrected. "Everything's fine. We just haven't seen or heard from each other in five years. It'll be like a reunion." I tried to sound cheerful, but the more I explained myself, the less exciting the idea seemed to be.
Sandara must have sensed my change in mood. "If you haven't talked to each other in so long, that obviously means you've all moved on."
I got a tad angry. 2NE1 was at the peak of their careers, receiving worldwide attention, accepting awards and accolades in several countries.
She had no clue about how I felt, about trying to reconnect with the only success I'd ever had.
Suddenly, I wanted to have that party again. "It'll be a good thing." I said, as much to convince her as to convince myself. "It's closure."
My sister still didn't sound too happy, but she gave me Joon's number anyway.
It took me two whole days to build up the courage to dial Joon's number. It took two tries for him to actually answer, two minutes to calm him down enough to explain that I wasn't some fan who'd acquired his number... but it only took two seconds for him to remember me.
Joon hadn't changed much at all. We talked in rapid bursts, firing questions and answers at each other like soldiers on opposing sides shooting bullets.
For a moment, it was like old times. Countless memories of staying up until the wee hours of the morning, doing nothing but talking since neither of us were tired enough to sleep even though we'd been awake for over a day.
He told me how overrated stardom was, how he'd give it all up just to go one day without hearing a phone ring, to sleep in the same bed two nights in a row.
I told him how I lived comfortably. How I went to the same job day in and day out, saw the same people, said the same things. I was bored out of my mind with the repetition, with the robotic routine.
Joon told me he'd love to be in my shoes, to live a normal life, wear normal clothes.
I told him I'd love to stand on stage again, to be in front of a crowd and flashing cameras.
We both got quiet after that, listening to each other breathe for nearly a full minute before he came up with an excuse to hang up.
He did promise he'd try to come to the party, though.
I had no way of getting a hold of Byunghee, so Seungho was next on my list. Unfortunately, his number, that had sat untouched in my contacts list for years, was disconnected. I'm sure he just got a new phone, a new number.
For a while, I considered making the long drive to the southern coast. I played the route out in my head, which highways to take, which exits... I was surprised at how easily it all came back to me, how the long and straight highways eventually gave way to two-lane roads that zig-zagged across the landscape, past small towns and lakes before emptying out in front of the sea.
It took a bit more effort to remember exactly which house Seungho lived in, but now that I had it in my mind, I wanted to make that trip even more, even with the high possibility that he didn't even live there anymore.
Maybe I'll hold off on that a bit.
Maybe after I find Byunghee.
Maybe.
What exactly classifies someone as a bitch?
Is it a rude or holier-than-thou attitude?
Is it a habit of always making things worse or more difficult for other people?
If this is what a bitch is, I don't think Joon is one.
He's such a humble person. Not just because we were so close at one point, but because everything he does feels so raw and genuine.
I think it was just in the way he told me he'd love to live a normal life. In how willingly he'd give up the money and the cars and the fame just to be able to sleep comfortably at night.
It was the way he sounded so tired as he said it, voice raspy and strained from talking all day.
No. Someone like that can't be a bitch. Not even on a bad day.
I had to get a second opinion. I had to find out why I'd been hearing such horrible things about him from what few celebrity friends I still kept in contact with.
I started off with Sandara.
"You still thinking of having that party?" She said as a way of greeting when she answered her phone. "I still think it's a bad idea." There was no power in her voice though, like she knew that no amount of arguing would change my mind. "You'd be better off writing letters or something."
I wanted to ask her how she would feel if I told her to just write letters to Chaerin or Bom if 2NE1 ever broke up. I want to tell her how bad of an idea that would be, just to piss her off.
I decided not to start an argument today.
"Yeah. I should write letters." I said. "Send invitations. Hope the guys show." It would be far damn easier than driving all over the country, hoping these boys were predictable enough to be in the same place they were five years ago.
There was an awkward pause. I'm sure Sandara was just as confused about me taking her advice as I was.
"Are you serious?" She finally asked. If she were standing in front of me, I'm sure she'd be leaning towards my face, inspecting my eyes and lips for twitching or any other sign that I was lying.
"I'll probably just visit Mir." I say.
"Okay." She said, drawing out the last syllable just to emphasize the fact that she wasn't sure what was going on.
We hung up and I dropped my phone into the passenger seat next to me.
The thing is, I'd already driven to Mir's house.
Mir's house was small, painted white, and sat quite a ways back from the road. It was almost hidden from view by a row of bushes that had grown out of control.
Someone in the house must have seen me pull up the long driveway because the front door swung open as I got out the car.
A petite woman stepped out onto the porch. Her long hair hung halfway down her back, she wore no makeup, but her top looked relatively expensive.
"Is Mir home?" I asked, wondering if I had somehow chosen the wrong farm house to drive up to.
She looked at me more intently, then nodded. "Yeah, he is. You're his friend from way back in the day, aren't you?"
I smiled and nodded. Was 'friend' the only title I was given when Mir talked about his past?
There's no way I could be mad. Even to me, that all felt like a lifetime ago.
She motioned for me to follow her, then retreated back into the house. "My name's Ji by the way." She called out to me from inside.
I hurried up the steps and into the house, kicking off my shoes as I went. The house smelled like laundry detergent and coffee, a surprisingly pleasant combination.
Ji led me through the living room, where a pile of laundry sat on the couch, ready to be ironed and folded. She returned to the ironing board and, from the large windows at the front of the room, you could see clear across the yard, up the driveway and out to the main road.
"Mir!" Ji shouted, startling me with the sudden increase in volume. "You have a guest."
It wasn't until now that I noticed she was obviously pregnant. I remembered why I even thought of Mir recently: the baby shower.
I was seconds away from asking her if she should be ironing, if she should even be standing, but Mir showed up in the doorway. He'd kept his hair buzzed short, and the army had noticeably aged him. I knew he was younger than me, but he looked so mature.
"Sanghyun." He said quietly.
"Mir." The name slipped from my mouth.
He looked decent. Tired, but happy. "So you got the invitation?" Mir asked. "Did you read it? The shower is in August, not June." A slow smile spread across his face.
"I just wanted to see you." I explained, painfully aware of his wife's obvious eavesdropping. "I just wanted to see everybody."
Mir's smile faded, like I'd just ruined the mood. "To be honest, I've hardly thought about them." He sighed. "Let's sit down and talk, shall we?" He pointed towards the doorway he'd come through and I followed.
The house was smaller than I originally thought. The windows were open and a warm breeze drifted through the place, rustling papers on desks and causing a windchime somewhere outside to dance and sing.
He led me past the narrow kitchen, past the cramped bathroom. I thought he'd lead me to the back of the house, where the bedrooms were, but he paused in the middle of the hallway. The window at the far end let in a gust of air, making the heat in the house slightly more bearable for all of five seconds.
"I'm not saying I'm unhappy to see you..." He began. "I just didn't think you'd show up out of the blue like this... not before the shower, anyway." He stood completely still, arms at his side, eyes connecting with mine, studying me.
Mir wasn't the same man I knew back then. He didn't match up with my memories of him.
Where were the obnoxiously laughs? The loud burps? The constant fidgeting?
Seeing him be so quiet, so still... it was unnerving. It wasn't Mir.
...but then again, time changes people.
Was the fact that he seemed so different a good thing? It had to be better than someone saying "you look the same" or "you haven't changed a bit" when they hadn't seen you in years. It's a common thing to say at reunions, but just how awful is it to be accused of never changing?
"You're exactly how I remember you." Mir told me.
I stayed for lunch at the Bang household. Ji continued working her way through the pile of laundry, which made me worried so I asked Mir if she should be doing that.
"She won't listen to me." Mir explained. "I've told her time and time again to take it easy, but she tells me she's got it under control, that no one knows her body better than she does." He pushed his food around on his plate a bit. It was the most Mir-like thing I'd seen him do.
To be honest, I hadn't thought this far ahead. All I wanted to do was talk to them all again. The conversation with Joon was fine because we were still separated, only our cell phones tethered us together... but being face-to-face with Mir was a different situation.
This close up to him, I was forced to look at him and count the number of differences his expression held since the last time I'd seen him. His face was bonier, like he'd lost weight, but I could tell that the army had kept him in shape.
He must have noticed me staring. "Am I that different?" He asked me, finally lifting a forkful of food to his lips.
I nodded. "It takes a lot of getting used to." I might as well be honest.
"I was just ready." He said, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper.
"Ready for what?" I wondered.
"To drop the act." He said, which still didn't help me understand what he was talking about. "To stop pretending to be an adult." He clarified. "Being an idol was fun... but it was dangerous. You were constantly under the threat of being injured, emotionally or physically." He stopped talking, placing his fork back on the plate, his food untouched. "The military isn't much different. The danger is still the same. Except this time around, you're prepared to handle it."
Unable to keep holding his gaze, I looked down at my own food.
"We all got hurt." Mir went on. "When Seungho's surgery didn't go as planned, I think we all realized that we'd gone as far as we could."
He had a point.
Back in the day, news of idols being involved in accidents or winding up in the hospital were so common that people were rarely shocked or surprised... but there was still a life at stake. I'd read enough forums to know that the fans wanting us to recover was only superficial. They didn't truly care about our health.
They only wanted us back on stage.
"He could have died that day." Mir said, snapping me out of my thoughts. "He could just have easily landed on his head... or neck." I looked up at him long enough to see him bite his bottom lip. "I thought nothing of it back then." He said once he'd calmed down some. "But during my service, all I could think about is how easily he could have... how we could have lost him. Yet all I read about on news sites were how hopeful our management team was about how soon he'd be back on stage again."
His eyes were moist with coming tears, but he didn't let a single tear fall.
"He was scared shitless." Mir recalled. "Seungho, I mean. He'd never been in the hospital for something so serious. He was afraid of being put under... He was afraid of the heavy painkillers they were constantly feeding him... I think even before the surgery, he knew his performing days were over."
I noticed that Ji had stopped ironing. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted her lingering by the kitchen doorway, listening in.
"He acted so brave, though." I said. If I remember correctly, Seungho was always smiling and laughing, telling me he'd be alright, that it didn't hurt, that I should stop crying.
"It's all an act." Mir mumbled. "That whole situation opened my eyes, Sanghyun. The moment it became clear that our company was gonna dump us because of Seungho's limp... I knew I couldn't put up with that shit anymore. Even if they hadn't disbanded us, I would have quit. It was too much."
He was getting emotional now, and if I concentrated, I could pretend it was five years ago and Mir was just complaining about how he never had time to sleep or even eat. Back then, I tuned him out, but now, all I wanted to do was hear him speak.
Now I was starting to feel bad. Joon had grown tired of this lifestyle's constant demands and lack of privacy... Mir had grown tired of being treated like a robot or a puppet that was only good for being commanded, whose health and well-being were just obstacles in a company's money-making venture or a fan's unquenchable desire to be entertained.
Yet, despite that, all I wanted to do was be Thunder again.
I got back to Seoul long after dark. It was a weeknight, so the roads were relatively empty. Silver buildings lit up by neon lights stretched towards a black sky.
Headlights slipped past my view on the other side of the road, the closest thing to stars I could get since the brightness of the city blocked the light of the ones up above.
Talking to Mir, honestly, didn't go how I had dreamed.
I imagined that we'd be all hugs and smiles, all shoulder pats and back patting. I thought we'd spend the afternoon talking about Mir becoming a father, or how our lives were now, or laughing at stories that started with "remember that one time..."
Of course, there are many times when what we hope for isn't what we get.
Instead, all I got was a reminder of how cruel people can be... how we were degraded to nothing but tools and how we were too young to even realize we were being treated like shit.
At first, I thought idol's young ages were good things. Talents could be nutured over the years, skills could be taught and learned more easily if the minds were young and eager...
Now I know that it was all a trick. Taking young teenagers from their homes, from their schools and friends, "training" them day in and day out, working them to their limits and beyond... It wasn't exactly evil, but my God, it came close.
Sure, the rewards are priceless. Fame, the possibility of fortune, making a living doing what you're passionate about... They were all nice things to have, but risky things to keep. Devoted fans, reporters skewing your words in interviews, everything you do being either criticized or copied...
We never caught a break. We could never catch our breaths.
The bad things far outweighed the good.
Was that really a life I wanted to go back to? Especially after all of these years?
Driving down that empty road, passing office buildings and parking garages and restaurants and clubs, I couldn't help but think about this.
Now that I was free, liberated from the industry, I could date who I wanted, eat what I wanted, wear what I wanted... yet here I was, working at a deli, living paycheck to paycheck...
At least when I was an idol, there was excitement. There was no room for routine. I may have been tired all the time, but I was rarely ever bored. You get used to the cameras, the critics, the fans... It's all a part of the job.
Right now, I wanted it more than anything. Definitely more that going home each night, smelling like roast beef.
Sleep came to me that night in fits and starts. In the minutes I was asleep, all I did was dream of the limelight, the choreography, the screaming crowd... when I was awake, all I did was replay my dreams in my head repeatedly, so that I'd never forget them.
"Joon is a bitch." Chaerin said on the phone. I could hear her smacking her gum as she talked. "Not that he's mean or anything... but people hate inviting him to parties."
"Why?" I asked, truly interested. "Does he drink all the beer? Ruin the mood by throwing up continously or having an emotional breakdown right in front of everybody?"
"What?" She asked. "The fuck? No." She laughed. "What?"
"Nothing." I mumbled. "I just watch too many movies."
She was quiet a moment. I could hear conversations in the background, footsteps, doors slamming shut. She was obviously somewhere busy and the only reason I was even talking to her was because I'd convinced Sandara to hand her the phone.
"Well, are you going to tell me why he's a bitch or not?" I prompted.
"Oh yeah, sorry." She said. "Him being drunk isn't the problem. It's him acting like he's drunk."
"Huh?"
"He might have a cup in his hand, but he never sips it. I've watched him. He just mingles with the crowd, tilts it toward his face like he might drink it, then finds another circle of people to chat with." She paused, and based on the sound, she was blowing a bubble. After it popped, she continued. "I don't really care if he doesn't truly drink, but give him half an hour and he's pretending he's drunk. Stumbling, slurring, bumping into people, knocking over things. It's actually kinda funny."
I frowned.
All of this time, I thought Joon had done something seriously offensive... but no, he's just a pretend-drunk.
"Is that it?" I asked.
"No." Chaerin said and my heart filled with joy.
"Tell me." I asked, trying to hide my excitement.
"He likes to hit on people." She said, voice so low I could hardly hear her over the background noise. "And not just regular people... well, they are regular people, never mind... but he likes to hit on people who aren't single... and who are guys..."
I let out a noise that sounded like a bird's squack, then clamped my hand over my mouth.
"What was that?" Chaerin asked.
"Nothing."
"Was that you?" She chuckled.
"Is that why all of the girls think he's a bitch?" I avoided her question.
"Yeah, he hits on their boyfriends." Chaerin said, blowing another bubble.
This new piece of news shocked me, but at the same time, it didn't even surprise me. Is that possible? To be floored by this information, yet not really be blown away by it?
I know I'm not making any sense. Maybe the strangeness of what I found out is still trying to register in my brain, which is why I'm still shocked-but-not-surprised?
Joon's a boyfriend stealer?
Of all the definitions of "bitch" that there are, I never would have pegged Joon with that one.
I mean, it's so easy for me to picture him stumbling around, knocking over things, falling onto the couch next to some legitimately drunk party-goer, he mumbles a few things in their ear, pets them a little, the other guy is too drunk to resist immediately, his girlfriend spots them, flies into a rage... It just all fit so perfectly.
Joon, you are a bitch.
I could learn from you.
Later that day, I had firmly decided to make the drive down to the coast and see if Seungho still lived in that same house.
It was a long shot, of course, but even if I didn't find him, it wouldn't hurt to spend a day at the beach, right?
"We're gonna call him out on his bullshit." Sandara told me over the phone.
"Call who out?" I asked her, since that was how she decided to answer the phone.
"Joon." She clarified. "We're going to call him out on his bullshit. It'll be awesome."
This is where my morals started acting up.
On one hand, it's always fun to see someone get served, but on the other hand, this was Joon.
I still felt some kind of obligation to him, that even after all of this time, I had to defend him.
It's been five years, though. The majority of that time was spent not even thinking about the man. Then, all of a sudden, I want to make my past my present again...
"Hello?" Sandara asked.
"I'm still here." I said quickly, still caught up in my internal debate.
This was tough.
I listened to Sandara go on and on about how she'd throw a party specifically for the purpose of humiliating Joon. She'd invite some pretty big-name stars, get all of the guests in on it, serve only non-alcoholic drinks. Apparently, she'd been planning this out even since Chaerin repeated the story to her.
While she told me her plan, I couldn't help but be filled with dread.
Should I tell Joon? Warn him? But that would certainly mean being forced to tell him that quite a few people had figured out his game. I'm terrible at delivering bad news.
I could let this all play out. Joon would go to that party and his "drinking habits" would be revealed to everyone. It might be just the push he needs to finally quit the business, but could I really just stand by and watch something like that happen to someone I consider a friend, a brother?
"So are you gonna come to the party?" Sandara asked me, she seemed out of breath from her long explanation that I didn't even listen to.
"Yeah." I said and felt bad for it the second it left my mouth.
'The past should stay in the past.'
Everyone has heard that little piece of advice.
There's other gold, such as 'only look forward. never look back.'
All of these things seem to teach people that it's totally okay to be ashamed of things you've done, as long as you 'move on.' Or, maybe, not looking back is supposed to prevent you from feeling shame?
There are things in my past I'd love to get back, to experience again, to try differently, to attempt to change... Of course, that's impossible, but the fact that it can't happen doesn't keep me from dreaming about it. How different would things be if I had made other choices?
It's extremely easy to get lost in the web of possible events.
Would I have ever met the others? Would MBLAQ still be the same? Would it even exist? Would the group still be soldeiring on now?
I want to wonder, but I know that no amount of thinking will change the luck we had, bring our fame back. It's gone now. All of it. In a world as fickle as the entertainment business, things come and go. It doesn't take long for something new to come around, but whether that new thing stays or fades is completely unpredictable.
Now I'm getting depressed.
Maybe that's the real reason why people say you should just let go of the past.
The fact that you can't change it, no matter how much you want to, is just plain sad.
That's why the future is so appealing. There's so much to look forward to. There's so much room for change.
Hopefully, I'll have the guts to change my current situation, so that my future will be one I won't think back on, counting the ways I'd love to change it.
Here's hoping I won't still be working at that sandwich shop, or staying in an apartment complex not too far from a university, or spending my weekends hanging out at clubs and praying someone recognizes me...
Just like that, it hit me. A bolt of inspiration so powerful it made me sit up in bed with a gasp:
I need to stop moping around. Either I claim the spotlight again, or I abandon the thought of it for good.
"Have things gotten any better?" I ask Joon. My epiphany didn't allow me to sleep, so I was thankful that Joon was free to talk at five in the morning.
"Not really. Why do you ask?" Joon wondered.
To be honest, I wasn't totally sure why I'd asked. I guess I was hoping he'd tell me that he was just in a slump and that he'd bounced back, that he'd fallen in love with it all over again.
I don't know, I guess I was looking for some type of reassurance that I was making the right decision.
Maybe I was expecting him to go on and on about the horrors of the business, hammer in the point that the decision I was making was bad and that I should just stick to the life I've got now.
"Is something the matter?" Joon asked.
"Yeah." I said, more to myself than to him.
"Oh, Sanghyun, what's the matter?" Joon asked, and I couldn't tell if the concern in his voice was genuine or mocking.
With Sandara, I could never tell. She'd sound truly interested in my problems and difficulties only to zone out while I was talking to her. It always made me feel awful, like what I was going through amounted to nothing.
"Sanghyun, you there?" Joon went on.
"Yeah... Yeah... Just thinking." I said. Could I tell this to Joon? It's been five years since we've seen each other in person. Was it this easy to go back to spilling all my secrets to him? Was it possible to trust him after all this time? Or did I even deserve that trust knowing good and well that Sandara was planning to undo him?
Should I... warn him? Would he believe me?
Instead, all I could say was: "Do you know where Byunghee is these days?"
I hadn't actually watched the sun set in weeks. I watched as the sky went from the pearlescent pink of twilight to the navy of night. The tall skyscrapers of Seoul were decorated in their neon lights as the street lights flickered on.
Despite the beautiful sight, I was nervous as hell. My fingers shook as I held the car keys in my hand. I couldn't even steady myself long enough to put them in the ignition.
It turned out that Joon knew exactly where Byunghee was. He gave me the address to a club where he bartends. Joon told me that he'd gone there a few nights and saw him behind the counter, mixing drinks. They spoke to each other well enough, although it was obvious to Joon that Byunghee was doing everything he could to stay away from his "old life."
Well, I was about to bring his old life right to him...
...if I could stop trembling.
An hour later, I found myself on the far side of the city.
It was a Saturday night, so the streets were packed with people as they began their bar-hopping adventures for the night. Girls in their short dresses. Guys in their v-necks and blazers. It's been ages since I've gone out like this. It's been far too long.
The club itself wasn't some dingy place with an alley entrance, but rather more of a lounge, where people went to sit, drink and people watch rather than to dance.
I made my way inside and cut a path through the crowd straight to the bar.
There he was.
He'd let his facial hair grow out, but it was neatly trimmed. The black shirt he was wearing clung to his form, his shoulders flexing as he poured drinks.
I watched him for a good five minutes before he even turned in my direction.
I don't blame him. I had purposefully sat on the empty side of the bar.
"What can I... get for you?" He stumbled over his words, leaning on the counter in an obvious attempt to get a better look at me.
"Whatever you think I'll like." I said casually, tracing a pattern on the wood counter.
A second or two passed and I looked up and met his eyes.
He was staring at me so intently that it sent a chill down my spine.
"Sanghyun." He said plainly, in a tone that was neither celabratory nor admonishing.
"Byunghee." I repeated, trying to match his tone. Deep down, I was thrilled to see him. He still looked good. After so long of not hearing anything from him, I'd expected the worst. In my head, he'd let himself go, gained a lot of weight, stopped taking care of himself now that he was no longer obligated to do so. But... he still looked good.
If the military had tamed Mir, and the industry had worn Joon out, I wonder what ailed Byunghee?
"You look well." I continued the conversation when I realized he was only going to stare.
"I never thought I'd see you again." He said, that stoic tone of his slowly defrosting into something remotely friendly.
I gave him a smile.
A customer on the other side of the bar called out to him. Byunghee turned to leave.
I watched his back, my jaw slowly dropping.
Was that it?
I never thought I'd be able to track him down, and when I finally do, he walks away from me without even saying goodbye?
As soon as I was about to say something I'd regret, he glanced over his shoulder. "Things will start slowing down a bit after midnight. Can you hang out until then?" He asked quickly.
Too enthusiastically, I nodded.
He smiled a bit and turned to the patron who had flagged him down.
I swiveled around on the bar stool, taking in the sights.
Low glass tables sat in front of red, modern chairs. People sat around, clinking glasses, laughing, nibbling on the bite-sized food the lounge offered. Conversations floated through the air while a soft and sultry jazz track with plenty of saxophone played over the speakers.
It was a nice place.
It definitely beat the cramped deli where I worked, where the paint on the walls was chipped and the tables wobbled. Where this place had sleek furnishings with designer touches, the deli didn't even have matching chairs.
Yeah, I'm jealous, to put it simply.
Bartending isn't the most glorious job, but watching Byunghee mingle and flirt with the busty women who wanted one more drink, I couldn't help but feel envious.
Before half an hour had passed, Byunghee came back to my side of the bar, sat a neon blue drink in a martini glass in front of me, told me it was on the house.
I took it without a word. It had been months since I had a drink. It was foolish of him to give me a drink so fruity I couldn't taste the alcohol, couldn't feel myself getting drunk.
"It's virgin." Byunghee clarified with a smirk. "I don't plan on driving you home."
I sighed, relieved but disappointed at the same time. Perhaps all I needed was a good drink, a way to unwind and banish these thoughts that had been running rampant in my head for days. For now, this was enough. I thanked him and took a sip from the glass.
The tropical flavor was strong and sweet, but I wished for the delightful burn of alcohol.
Time passed inconsistently for me. As the crowd came in and out like the tide, time seemed to speed and slow accordingly. When there were people around to watch, the minutes flew by, but as the night went on and the crowd seemed to permanently thin, each second felt like it took hours to pass.
Byunghee talked to me when he could, bits and snippets of conversation between patrons.
"How long have you been out here?" I asked.
"Getting close to three years now." He said, the slightest of smiles on his face. "Before this, I was jumping from job to job. Couldn't keep one at first. I was too... unstable."
"With the disbanding? His surgery?"
"Let's not talk about it." He said calmly, but a hint of anger (or possibly fear) did flash across his face. "How are you?"
"Bored." I said. "Tired of my job. Thinking too much."
He nodded. "That's a problem easily solved."
"What do I have to do?"
"Get a new job." He said. "If you hate your job, get a new one. If you hate your girlfriend, get a new one." He laughed a bit. It was wonderful to see him smile. "If you hate your car, get a new one. If you hate your life, get a new one." He leaned across the bar towards me. "That seems to be everyone's problems these days. They develop emotional attachments to things that won't do them any good. They become too afraid to part with it, afraid that they won't be able to get it back if they wanted to, even if they would be better off without it."
"No one likes to be replaced, though."
"I don't think inanimate objects mind too much."
"You're right." I said, catching a whiff of him. His cologne was rich and woodsy with sweet, delicious undertones. It reminded me of being out in the woods right before it rained, with that strong scent of thunderstorm in the air. He smelled dangerous. "If you hate your past, get a new one." I laughed.
"That's what I did." He said without hesitation, as if he were expecting me to say that. "If anyone asks, I'm from overseas."
"If anyone asks, I'm a nobody."
"If that's what you want to be." He said, he smiled, but I don't think he meant it.
When Byunghee's shift ended, we wound up just walking the streets.
It was past midnight, but there was still a huge crowd out, stopping at the outdoor food stalls, sitting down at an outdoor restaurant, or just making their way to the next club on their list.
The energy in the air was thriving and palpable, like those moments at a concert, right before the performing act takes the stage.
"How's life?" I couldn't help but wonder.
"Great, actually." He told me.
I expected more of an explanation, but he said nothing else.
"I talked to Mir not too long ago." I said, trying to revive the conversation. "He's out the military now. Has been for a while. He's married, about to have his first kid."
Byunghee nodded. "Mir always seemed like the family type to me."
We walked in silence again.
"Joon isn't faring so well, though." I said, not sure how much I should tell.
"The entertainment industry is filled with obstacles." Another of his short answers.
I was starting to get the feeling that he didn't want to talk about any of the guys, didn't want to remember. As much as it's been fluttering around my head, lately, completely forgetting didn't sound half bad.
"What about Seungho?" Byunghee asked, so softly his voice was almost lost in the noise around us.
"I don't know." I answered. "I don't know where he is." I looked over at him, a bit shocked to see that he looked completely distraught. "Just yesterday, I didn't know where you were, either."
"It's not like I was hiding." Byunghee said, raising his voice. He controlled himself, biting his lower lip. "Sorry, I..." He let the sentence hang in the air.
I should have known Seungho would be a bad topic to bring up. Byunghee seemed to be shook up about our leader's accident more than the rest of us. So frightened about the whole thing, he barely visited Seungho in the hospital, seemed to welcome our group's disbanding with open arms, wanted to leave the country... probably in an attempt to start a new life, get as far from us as possible.
Maybe Byunghee wasn't as tough as he always came off as.
"One of the reasons why I wanted to find you was to ask if you knew where he was and if he still lives in that house by the beach."
"No. I don't." Byunghee said after a long pause.
I think bringing it up was too much for him.
As if hearing my thoughts, he continued. "I should have kept in touch with you all. I was just scared. I felt like I was losing everything... Somewhere down the line, I thought it..." He was stumbling over his words now. He seemed on the verge of tears.
I reached out, put a hand on his shoulder. I half expected him to jerk away, like he almost always did back in the day, but he leaned into the touch, almost colliding with me as we walked.
"Let's stop for a bit." I spoke up. "I think the place up the block serves coffee."
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