Day 86

Key rifled around in the dark, fumbling through the mass of clothing that had piled up in his bedroom. It was 5:00 A.M. and the sun hadn’t even come up yet. Nonetheless, he had a long day of work ahead and he had to get dressed quickly. Really, he should have been dressed already by that time, but he opted to sleep in for those extra 15 minutes.

 

In the very dim room, he finally located the garment he intended to wear that day. Putting on the shirt, it seemed all wrong. “Where did all this extra material come from?” Then he realized his mistake. That is the Zorro costume, silly. Your outfit is the one on the right. Haha, oops. They are both the same color.

 

It wasn’t until 50 minutes later when Key was riding the elevator in the SM building that he realized what that extra 15 minutes had cost him: breakfast. It completely slipped his mind in all his hurrying. He cursed under his breath. He had been forgetful lately, preoccupied, but he thought he could compensate and keep working just as hard as he always did. At least it was small things like breakfast now. Just a couple months ago he couldn’t even remember whole schedules.

 

At floor three he was no longer alone. Someone else boarded the elevator. Key recognized her as one of the girls who worked at the company. She was a courier or an assistant or something. He never realized she existed until she bought this fantastic red coat in October as the cold weather set in. It was a real eye-catcher.

 

She pressed the button carefully as she balanced a venti Starbucks cup in each hand. Then she quietly shuffled back to sit in awkward elevator silence as the floor indicator ticked away.

 

Floor 11, almost there. Key hated that awkward silence. Usually he made some form of chit chat, even if it was forced. That was his personality. But today just wasn’t the day for that. He could barely focus on—

 

“You look like you could use some coffee.” A steaming cup was poised in front of his eyes which had glazed over while he was having an internal dialogue. He glanced over, skeptical and confused, as if she were possibly talking to someone else in this elevator occupied by two people. Nope, she was definitely addressing him. He still wasn’t reaching for the coffee. “They made my order wrong at first, so they told me I could keep it. But I don’t feel like Americano this morning.” She continued to hold the cup in front of him, her brown eyes quietly urging him. It didn’t look like she was trying to charm him or anything. It looked like she wanted to free up one of her hands.

 

Key slowly reached up and took the coffee from her, almost forgetting to smile slightly and say thanks as the elevator doors opened. He stepped off quickly, done with elevator discomfort and hastening to his next meeting. There was no time to ponder the good fortune of someone handing him his favorite coffee when he had nothing in his stomach and no time to eat for the next three hours.

 

Day 98

Another meeting in the SM Building. Key was actually pleased that he hadn’t had to come to the conference room for over a week now. It was uncomfortable these days. People were expressing concern over him lately and he assured them he was fine. But they weren’t convinced. They would stare at him when he sat quietly, suspicious but never working up the nerve to ask him if he was okay. He tended to get defensive when they did that.

So he went to the extra effort to look chipper that morning. It was easy because someone prepared scones and hot tea in the conference room. Wow. No one ever provides refreshments in here.

 

“Orange cranberry scones? It’s still warm. I wish we could get this all the time!” he remarked, careful to sound upbeat.

 

It didn’t really help his cause because they made it awkward later in the meeting:

 

“Kibum-ssi, if you want to postpone Toheart for a few months, you don’t have to make your comeback so soon. None of the dates have been solidified—”

 

“—No, keep it,” he interrupted. “I’m fine. Besides, it’s been a long time since I got to hang out with Woohyun.” He brushed scone crumbs off his black shirt casually. “Besides that, can I get another musical? I have the free time.”

 

Day 100

“Dammit. God dammit!” Key threw a fit when he finally got to a place where he knew he could be alone. He tore off the Zorro mask and flung it away, then continued pounding on the wall in a fit of frustration. “What the hell is wrong with me?! I’ve been doing this too long to make these mistakes!”

 

Key was a perfectionist. Nothing mattered more in the world when he was on stage than putting on a fantastic show. But he just couldn’t stay in control. He fumbled a few lines, which wasn’t all that noticeable. He hesitated a few times. But mostly his expressions just weren’t there. Acting was hard that particular night. Of course he wouldn’t be fired. Nobody in the audience probably noticed that many errors. But Key noticed. He noticed his inability to express himself the way he was used to, and it resulted in this watered-down and amateur flavor in his performance. He despised this.

 

He kicked over a nearby waste basket before sinking to the ground, propping his elbows on his knees and burying his head in his hands. His frustration with himself was making all his other anxieties weigh on him twice as much. It was one of those personal breakdown moments where it feels like everything is spiraling out of control.

 

People knocked at his dressing room door, but he didn’t answer. He even turned off the lights so they would pass by, thinking he had already taken off to go home before the rest of the cast. Once it was quiet in the hallway, he slipped out silently, sneaking away stealthily in his black coat and pants into the night.

 

“I’m going out with a friend tonight. You don’t need to drive me home,” he told his driver on the phone. It was a lie, of course. That was just before he slipped into the nearest bar just a few blocks away from the performance hall. He just wanted any excuse to not go back to the dorm. He just knew all the members would be there waiting for him, concern painted on their faces. It was the last thing he wanted to see. He didn’t want to be pitied.

 

After a bottle of soju and a tall beer, Key was comfortably numb and no longer frustrated at himself. He was finally able to sit calmly and not worry about what to do next. He had no other schedules that night, no where to be until 11:00 A.M. tomorrow. He was reaching for his wallet to pay for his drinks when he realized his absent-minded mistake: He was still in his costume pants from the musical, therefore the wallet was still in his dressing room.

He kicked the bar in frustration again. How many more times would he keep making these mistakes? It was so unlike him to be so clumsy, but lately he just couldn’t avoid it, couldn’t get get all his mental faculties together. All he could do was curse under his breath and try to think of a solution. Maybe Onew could come pick him up? Oh, but his phone was with the wallet. Perhaps he could convince the bartender to let him leave and come back with the money? They would probably think he was conning them. Maybe if he mentioned he was a celebrity —

 

“I’ll get it,” someone said from two barstools away. Key’s head snapped up and he immediately recognized that coat.

 

“No, you don’t have to—” he began, but the bartender was already running her card. Great. How embarrassing.

 

“If you’re not done drinking, just go ahead and order some more. It’s the company card anyway,” she grinned mischievously over the edge of her glass. She had barely started on her own beer.

 

“That would be an even worse imposition. No way. But thanks, though. I’ll pay you back.” Key was groaning internally. To get caught drunk by a coworker, then to have her save his — his self-image didn’t need to be kicked any further.

 

“I don’t want you to pay it back,” she asserted, taking another sip and setting the glass back down carefully. She obviously was nowhere near as tipsy as Key was at that point. “It’s congratulations for a successful show.”

 

Key couldn’t stifle his scoff before it came out. He wouldn’t consider that a successful performance on his part. But he didn’t want to talk about his shortcomings with her. He decided to redirect attention in case she wanted to comment on the performance. “You attended the show?”

 

“I work in the executive office. Tickets are free,” she smiled smugly.

 

“I see,” was all that Kibum could mutter. He really didn’t have the wherewithal to actively participate in this conversation. He was drunk, frustrated, embarrassed, and then somewhere under all of that was profound sadness. He suddenly really wanted to get out of that bar. He checked the clock on the wall: 12:02 A.M.

 

Day 101

“Dammit,” he cursed under his breath again.

 

“Forget something?” the girl in the red coat asked.

 

“More like blew off something important. Dammit.” Key kicked the bar again in frustration. Nothing seemed to go right.

 

“Need to go somewhere? I’ll drive you there. I’ve barely had anything to drink,” she offered.

 

“It’s somewhere I can’t go. But thanks for offering.” Key’s eyes were distant then as disappointment began to set in. He was a real moron. He felt guilty. Guilty and selfish for forgetting.

 

“So you’re staying here?” Red Coat Girl asked, not really responding to whatever moodiness Key was going through at that moment.

 

Key just didn’t feel like going home. As if staying in the bar were a better option anyway… “I’ll leave in 20 minutes or so.” He was still staring at nothing in particular, contemplating his guilt. But he didn’t have time to finish that thought because—

 

“Good. Then you can keep me company.”

 

Key’s eyes darted to her immediately. The look on his face was nearly incredulous. But she smiled softly and patted the bar stool next to her and looked at him expectantly.

 

What the hell am I even doing? he chastised himself internally as his feet carried him to that very bar stool. He had no idea why he was staying, why he was agreeing to sit with her. He just didn’t want to hear what she would say if he refused, probably. Nothing was clear in his head at that moment. His self-analysis was interrupted again as he heard her ask the bartender for another one of the beers he was drinking earlier. She just smiled lightly and continued sipping on her own drink.

 

At this point, Key was just along for the ride. He didn’t feel like protesting. He just wanted to escape from his daily anxiety. At least for tonight. There was so much to worry about when he would have to go back to being Key of SHINee. When that beer arrived in front of him at the bar, he reached for it immediately.

 

“I figured you’d want another.”

 

“Thanks,” he said. Oh just screw it all. It’s -this- o’clock. I’m not even going to worry anymore. Nothing that he could do, nothing that anyone could say was going to make him feel any better that night. He just decided to quit trying. With that, he gulped down some beer.

 

“You don’t go out drinking after every musical, do you?” Red Coat inquired casually. Gosh, is she going to be nosey all night?

 

“Just tonight,” he answered, purposely keeping it short.

 

“Nonetheless, I’m glad you’re here, because I needed the company.” Oh God, is she going to be one of those drunks who needs a therapy session from a random stranger? If anyone here needs that, it’s me, and you don’t see me spilling my guts, do you?

 

“Bad day?” Why the hell did you just say that, Kibum? Now you’re inviting her to just cry all over you —

 

“Actually it was a beautiful day, full of good things happening. But I just can’t appreciate them.”

 

That comment caught Key by surprise. Definitely not the kind of answer you would expect. “That’s the first time I’ve heard somebody say that.”

 

“You know those times where you just feel sorry for yourself, even though plenty of good things are happening to you?” she said, halfway through her drink by now.

 

“What, like depression?”

 

“No…” She thought about her reply carefully for a moment. “Just a slump. You try hard but something is dragging you down. You just have to keep persevering until things go back to normal.”

 

“I guess I know what you mean.” Key was purposely trying to sound aloof, but in reality this girl was preaching to the choir.

 

“Anyway, I’ll be fine eventually. In the meantime sitting next to you and having a drink helps. So thanks.”

 

“Well good. I hope everything gets better,” Key offered. He held up his glass to her. “Happy New Year.”

 

She, in turn, raised her glass and was about to clink it with him, but suddenly withdrew. “Wait, not Happy New Year. At least, not yet.”

 

“What? Why?” Key was genuinely perplexed. All he wanted was to clink glasses and finish his beer.

 

“There’s something I want to do first. Finish your drink,” she said before downing the rest of her own. Key just looked at her sideways like she was strange. “Just finish it. I want to show you something.”

 

Going with the flow, Key just obediently gulped down the last few ounces left in his glass. She was his workmate— things couldn’t get too weird, right? After settling her tab, she motioned for him to follow her down the street.

 

After a few blocks, they came across a tiny garden shop in the business district.

“My friend owns this place. He sells mostly herbs and flowers in little clay pots,” she explained as she turned down the alley beside the business. Key hesitated for a moment, eyeing the dark corridor warily, but he ended up following her anyway. She stopped at a pile of old terra-cotta pots at the very end of the alley. Holding one up, she continued speaking. “I’ve only done this one other time, but…”

 

With that, she raised the herb pot high over her head and in one swift motion slammed it on the ground. It shattered into several pieces with a loud smash. Key was totally shocked, not expecting that at all and was visibly startled by the sound.

 

“He said I can smash the ones he piles in the back. They are old and cracked.” She bent down to take another pot off of the pile, then held it out in front of Key, just like she held that venti coffee in front of him weeks ago. “Here. You try.”

 

It was too dark to see the “you’re crazy” look he was giving her. But he seemed suddenly intrigued after considering it for a few seconds. Oh, what the hell…

Before he even knew it, there was a splattering of pottery shards at his feet. Destroying something felt surprisingly good and next thing he knew, he was high-fiving her triumphantly. They both ran back to the pile and grabbed more pots.

 

“This is what I think of all those stupid criticisms I get at the office,” she announced as she threw down a pot. Then she raised the pot in her other hand. “And this is for all the hours I wasted worrying about things that don’t matter.”

 

Key somehow got swept up in it. “This is for all those little screw-ups on stage,” he proclaimed, smashing a pot into the growing pile of shards. He lifted another pot, “and this is for me screwing up as a grandson.”

 

The girl in the red coat flashed a sympathetic look for a moment, realizing the somberness behind his last flower pot. Then she knelt down and simply handed him two more. “There are at least 30 left. Just keep smashing until you are out of worries.”

 

Key welcomed them and continued to toss pots down. “This is for the pitying looks and comments that people keep giving me. And this is for my ty birthday…”

 

That last smash was especially violent. Key didn’t realize how much he was panting and huffing, lost in his own little world for a moment, until he caught sight of his breath. He was puffing little clouds into the cold winter air. But he felt surprisingly good. Better than he had in weeks. A small smile finally began to form on his lips and he turned to the girl who stood behind him, another pair of pots at the ready in her arms. Key gently took one from her, much calmer now.

 

“What do you say?” He gestured at the one pot that he left in her hands and then to the one he was holding. “Happy New Year to us?”

 

She just smirked in understanding and nodded her agreement. After clinking the pots together, they both lifted the pottery above their heads and shouted “Happy New Year!” as they smashed on the ground.