I’ve reached my lifetime quota for making friends the day I joined After School Sweg. In fact, I’ve been actively avoiding meeting new people since. You'd think not making friends is easier than making connections, but campus life—even in such a big one—thrived on the familiar and the routine. You saw the same faces in your building, met with the same people for a semester, sometimes more, in shared classes, and when you practiced at the music lounge and studied at the music library it would be silly not to acknowledge the same people you’re there with for just about the same time every Monday and Thursday. I don’t even look at them, but I still keep getting these generic greetings.

I’ve even gone as far as being downright rude if weird, tense, and misanthropic doesn’t work. Unfortunately, normal human behavior works hard towards making new connections, and some people just really want to be your friend you don’t have a choice in the matter. You end up accepting your losses and going with it.

How is that that for some people “Go away. Stop Talking to me” doesn’t work?

That’s how I ended up hanging out with Wonpil and, by association, Dowoon outside class, and how I go everywhere with Ayeon and Huiryong (they may very well be my best friends), and that sometimes I go out for dinner with Jae and Jimin (without being asked). Joonyoung was like that, too. I think he thought I was being ironic when I’d scowl at him. Wonpil and I went to see him every other day and soon we facial recognition kicked in, and then we were nodding at each other, and then eventually Joonyoung started conversation.

But other than these carefully selected few, none of the other transients in my life invited me into their personal spaces. Nayeon wasn’t asking me out to some party. Jaebum and Jinyoung weren’t inviting me to go watch some game with them or play basketball. Namjoon’s philosophical lectures never extended to getting coffee at Khunfections or wherever he liked it best.

And then there’s Sungjin.

I feel like he’s the kind of guy who always has his social calendar full for the simple reason that people love having him around. He’s the one getting invited to parties and socials and road trips. The kind of guy you call to help you set up and the kind who volunteers to stay behind to clean up afterwards. The kind of guy you call just because. Sungjin would show up, too. No questions asked. He’d be there before you know it.

Even when you don’t ask out loud.

In a way, he’s like Joonyoung. Joonyoung was everywhere all the time. Always the social one, always the guy who knew everyone in the room and at least two more in the other. Always the one to find me first, drag me out into the night and make the most of our dwindling freedom before Adulthood claims us entirely. It was always out at night. when the world was asleep and Joonyoung and I were adventurers going into the unknown.

Always, it was Joonyoung and Wonpil who were the ones invited to places, much like Jae and Ayeon. I was the fine print. Where one of them will be, so too shall I be. I go not for the party but because, in spite of myself, I like to think I try. When I wasn’t out getting work invites of my own, then at least I’m outside with people I can rely on.

I’m still not sure where how to categorize Sungjin.

When I really think about it, I don’t know much about him at all. Other than that he’s my TA, Sungjin could still be considered a stranger. I know he’s a grad student, but I’m not sure what he’s studying. Could be music because he’s under the supervision of Professor Park, but I’m not really even sure how that works. Likewise, he doesn’t really know that much about me. And yet, he stayed with me. Comforted me without asking for anything in return. Just as he promised, Sungjin didn’t ask about what happened. He didn’t even say anything, just held me until I stopped crying. We sat together for I’m not even sure how long, content in each other’s presence the silence wasn’t weird at all. I was, still am, such a disaster but at least, that night, he didn’t try to fix it. Fix me.

By the end of the night, I managed to pull myself together.

Most days, I am capable of holding up on my own. Others, not so much. I still haven’t decided which one last night is.

I look up as Wonpil stops singing and I reach forward to hit the mic on my side of the booth. We’re recording Wonpil’s vocals and Dowoon’s drums for a class project. I’ll record half the synths (the other half is Wonpil’s) later, then work on rearrangement and final production and mastering.

“How’s that?” Wonpil asks.

“That was a good take.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes,” I answer, “but you can do it again if you want to.”

Wonpil grins. “What do you think?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think, it’s your vocals.”

“You weren’t listening were you?”

“I was.” Not really. Not exactly.

Wonpil makes a face. “Play it again?”

I do that. Wonpil’s voice fills my headphones and I close my eyes to focus on the words and the music. He rewrote a verse at the last minute, and the change makes the song more powerful than it was before. Then there’s his voice.

Ever since I came back here, I’ve been Wonpil’s fine print too. It was easy. Convenient. We worked well together. We have three years’ worth of records, demos, and unfinished work of Wonpil’s songs and my arrangements stored in too many external hard drives, songs about summer, about spring, about finding love and experiencing heartbreak. None of these were our personal experiences, not really. But when you’re like me you make a habit of observing people. You learn more than you think just by watching.

And then Joonyoung happened, and all Wonpil can think about is how good it would be if I finally write about something real. I haven’t, still. As much as he asserted that writing out my feelings would be good for me, I couldn’t bring myself to do that. I remember crying a lot after that night at Catharsis, hiding out in my room and coming out only to do radio. I started skipping class when I thought I could get away with it. Wonpil said he understood, and yet he’s still part of the team that forces me to act out when all I want is to stay in.

It’s weird now that I think about it, how well we work together even when our personalities are so different from each other’s.

“I think we’re good,” Wonpil finally says. “Unless you have other comments? Suggestions?”

I look back at Dowoon, who is wiping off the notes he wrote on the skin of his snare drum. Sometimes I forget he’s even around. Dowoon hasn’t really said anything other than infinitely helpful suggestions about the drum beats and the pacing of the song. He’s so quiet it’s unnerving. It makes me wonder if this is how it feels like for other people when I’m lurking in the background.

“Dowoon, do you have anything to add?”

He looks up and shakes his head.

“I think we’re good,” I say to Wonpil. “Good job, guys.”

“We’re going bowling tonight,” Wonpil says as soon as he joins us in the control room.

Dowoon perks up. Like he’s excited about this.

“Okay,” I say, wary of Dowoon’s eyes on me. “Enjoy your Saturday night.”

“Aren’t you coming?” Dowoon asks. I don’t hear him talk too often, so when he does his deep voice always catches me off guard.

“What would I do there?” I say.

“I don’t know,” Wonpil answers, “go bowling, maybe?”

“I don’t bowl.”

“Just because we’re going bowling doesn’t mean you have to,” Wonpil says. “There are other things you can do.”

“Like eat,” Dowoon adds. “Drink? Talk to people?” This is all so disconcerting to hear from Yoon Dowoon, the only other person I could say is like me.

“Have fun?” Wonpil.

The above choices don’t really fall under my definition of fun. “I won’t know anyone there.”

“We’re just going with Nayeon and Jungyeon and Jisoo. They’re bringing some more friends—the exchange students from Japan, I think. And Jinyoung and Jaebum will be there. You know those people. Jackson will be there. You’re friends with Jackson.”

Dowoon nods. “Fun!”

“You won’t know people until you actually go and meet them first. My roommate, the one I was telling you about, says he’ll drop by after he’s done working too.”

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