i. to write her love songs

Where are you?

Taeil stared at the message on his phone screen for a while.

Are u ok?

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Goodness, she just doesn't listen, Taeil thought.

He shifted his eyes from the phone screen and glanced to his side, trying to make out his situation. His bedroom was engulfed in a gloomy light from the sun rays snuck through the glass panel of his apartment window. From his bed, Taeil could saw the pale sun began to slide down the summer sky, down its way to the building-beaded skyline. It was three pm and he just woke up from his rare five hours sleep. His shoulders were stiff. There was creaking sound when he tried to stretch. His joints and muscles were all tensed; pain was still gnawing every inch of his body.

With one of his free hand, he placed his palm on his forehead to check his body heat. Good. The fever was gone although burning sensation still lingered in his throat; stabbing, throbbing.

Seungwan's message stared back at him, as if questioning why he didn't type back already. It was received almost two hours ago when he still deep in the sleep. Taeil could hear her voice when he read the message. In his mind, he pictured Seungwan with a frown across her face, eyes narrowed, the corners of turned down.

She shouldn't be concerned with him. She should worry about herself more. Taeil had told her a thousand times: no,  Seungwan. We're not what we're used to be. We're different.

Seungwan had everything, and Taeil had nothing to give her. Not anymore.

Still struggling with his headache, Taeil crawled down the bed. The room looked blurry in his eyes, plain ivory wallpaper merged with book shelf and dull table. Things were spinning around him; the lightbulb, clock, nightstand. His body found the wall to lean on. For a moment he paused, closed his eyes, breathed slowly.

. . .

He couldn’t work like this. He should have just take Youngho’s advice to stay away from the workplace. But the company had called for hundredth times since yesterday, and Mr. Han wanted the demo to be sent tomorrow.

He hadn’t even started with the rough mixing.

If he wanted to finish it before tomorrow’s first ray of sunlight tearing the sky, that meant he would need to sacrifice his sleep to the god of creativity. Which is impossible with his current condition. He was not going to lie; he just wanted to go back to the bed, lying down on the mattress and sleep through the entire day.  

His phone rang again. When he glanced at the screen, Mr. Han’s name flashed as the caller ID.

Taeil let out a stifled groan. He picked the phone from the bed and put it on her ear.

“Moon Taeil! Where are you?”

He frowned at Mr. Han’s panic dissolved voice.

“At home. Why?”

“Home? What the hell are you doing? You should be in the studio right now!” Mr. Han screamed from the other side of the line. Taeil had to distance the phone from his ear for a while before putting it back to answer his boss.

“I haven’t even finished the demo. What do you want me to do in the studio?”

“Didn’t Youngho tell you? Kang Seulgi starts recording today.”

Taeil’s coughed, both from the soreness of his throat and the information that Mr. Han dropped.

He raked his memories, sorting all kind of event flashed in his mind. Youngho told him Kang Seulgi has a recording on Tuesday. Or did he? Taeil wasn’t sure. Everything from two days ago was fuzzy. He didn’t even remember when was his last meal. Maybe this morning. Maybe not.

“So, did you proceed with the recording?” He finally found his voice, which came out weirdly like it wasn’t his.

“Screw it. We postponed because we can’t do it without you after all. Where are you?”

Ah, so there would be another delay for Kang Seulgi’s new album.

“Currently not in my best state. Fever since yesterday. Could you reschedule it until I get better?” He spoke carefully, then added, “Please.”

He heard a forced sigh from Mr. Han, but eventually, he said okay.

“However, I have to remind you that I need to get that Wendy’s demo in my hand very soon.”

 Taeil mumbled something like yeah of course but he wasn’t so sure if Mr. Han got it.

“Get well soon.” Mr. Han said at last, which made Taeil let out a dry laugh.

“Thank you. Tell Seulgi I’m very sorry.”

His phone went dead right after Mr. Han ended his call. Taeil wobbled his way to the table in the corner and plugged in the charger into the metal bar’s socket. He slouched down in the chair and brought his knees to his chest. His hand rummaged through the mess on the table and found a notebook from the stack of papers. He flicked it open, and flipped the pages until he found the rough sketch for Wendy’s new song.

Seungwan’s song.

Taeil rested his chin on his knees,  eyes trailed the notes and words scribbled on the paper. Without realizing it, he already hummed the song in low voice. He tasted the curve of his writings, the way it rolled on his tongue. This song wasn’t his best work, Taeil had to admit. It was a cliché love song. Everything about the track and instruments in the background was nothing out of ordinary. Light bass sound, dominant keyboard tune with addition of electric guitar, drum to keep the medium tempo beat. Typical lyrics about how it feels like to fall in love, wanting something from the other person.

After all, it was a song that follows commercial’s rule; easy listening, catchy lyrics. The executives just told him aburptly, giving him a week to write and compose the song that will be released as a digital single. The only thing that Taeil proud of this song was the melodies. He crafted it with so much care, experimenting how it would sound when being sung.

Still, it was a song he made for Seungwan; it counted special in every way.

Taeil was wrong when he thought he had nothing to give to Seungwan. He could always write a million songs just for her.

When he first started to write for Seungwan, they were just two high school students who liked music.

On the afternoon when Taeil met Seungwan, he was on his way back to the music room when he heard a soft humming from one of the classrooms he passed. Piqued by the curiosity, Taeil stopped his footsteps. That was when he saw Seungwan; broom in her hands, earphones in her ears. Her black hair was tied in a high ponytail, beads of sweat ran down her temples.

At that time, Taeil decided quickly. He took a turn and walked quickly to the music room to retrieve his belonging. Without he realized it, he was already running.   

He remembered Seungwan’s surprised face when he approached her and shoved the notebook in her hands.

“You should sing that,” Taeil said in a raspy voice.

Seungwan glanced at the notebook, then put down the broom she had been holding before. Awkwardly, she flipped the book open, peeked on the inside. Lines started to appear on her forehead, her lips pressed tight together. Her brown eyes scanned the page, analyzing the rows of music notes on it.

“What song is this?”

Even her normal talking voice took his breath away.

Taeil was so nervous that he couldn’t properly formulate an answer. But Seungwan noticed the way his reaction. She darted her eyes back and forth from Taeil to the unfamiliar music score in her hands.

Then she smiled.

“You. Wrote. It. Didn’t you?”

The next thing Taeil knew was they walked to the music room together, he played his song on guitar, humming the melodies. Seungwan sat in front of him, listened to his instruction with a great amount of attention. Then she started to sing the first verse and everything that held Taeil in his place was gone. He floated, his mind floated and he couldn’t think right. It startled him of how right his song sounded in her voice. How it resonated beautifully when she sang it.

He didn’t realize that somewhere in the middle of the song, he had stopped playing.

When Seungwan asked him what’s wrong and he replied with a dumb reply, they both laughed like they had laughed together forever.

“Once again,” she commanded in a serious tone after their laughter subdued, and Taeil readily put his fingers on the guitar’s strings.

Their first afternoon went by as they tried to put together these new pieces. Him. Her. His songs. Her voice. His guitar. Her laugh.

They strangely fit well amidst the soft soundproof layer of music room’s walls, the dying summer sun outside, and the air of unfamiliarity hanging thick around them.  

That was six years ago. 

Taeil closed the notebook and stood up. The throbbing in his temples was still going strong. Slowly, he made his way out from his room to the kitchen. His throat was burning and water would help. Probably. He wasn't sure of everything right now.

Painkiller. Aspirin? He also made a mental note to run to the pharmacy when he went down to the studio later. The workplace one, he meant, not the recording studio.

This headache will never go away, he sighed mentally as he poured water into the glass. 

The message from Seungwan remained unanswered.

a/n : maybe will split it into parts. pray that i will update this regularly. do anyone still read this, though?