chapter nine

of radios &  static
SEPTEMBER 24TH, 2016

The sounds coming from the old radio that stood next to the now withered bouquet of blue bellflowers Dajung had brought a few months ago and a photo of the treasured childhood that had been hidden from the outside world, filled the empty living room that once was a mirror image of a bright blue sky but now had become a faint shade of dark grey as the clouds covered the sun rays that would wholeheartedly embrace her.

Resting her head on her hand, fondness replaced the anxiety that had consumed her heart for a long time as, from afar and quietly, she admired her mother’s serene figure against the kitchen’s counter as she carefully brewed raspberry tea and silently prepared their late-night snack, a meal that had been a tradition of theirs since the beginning of times.

However, this tradition, as time inevitable altered itself and so did the people who practiced it, stood heavy of Dajung’s mind.

Altering everything about herself as she displayed herself to the public who was to dictate the direction of her career, Dajung had, in a certain way, crafted an entirely new identity, identity this whose name was offered as the awareness before the stars and infinity increased, painting the illusory picture of a life characterized as enchanting or perhaps, a resemblance of perfection.

Kenna was that perplexing identity’s name.

Static seeped into her thoughts as the minute's hand relentlessly chased the hour's hand. Yearning to have had a saying in who she was to become, the world surrounding her became blurry, the only remaining shining lights being the four girls she would often convey her deepest feelings to when the sun had wandered away, despite these, often times being sugarcoated for her thoughts were a faint polychrome gradually turning into mere shades of a faded monochrome.

Her gaze bouncing from corner to corner, an unusual sense of warmth, this, however, bittersweet consumed her. As the leaves rustled and the wind whistled, the memories of a happy household, deprived of freedom nonetheless, swept her thoughts. The longing of her father was, every so often, too much to tolerate, preferring to forget about his existence all together for resenting him for deciding to maintain his loyalty to the country who strips its people of basic human rights was agonizing.

“Dajungie,” a hoarse voice called, perking up, Dajung plastered a soft smile on her features, leaving her thoughts behind, as her mother gazed at her from the top of her shoulder, “Do you want sugar on your tea?”

Biting her lower lip, the girl softly shook her head, fixing her posture in the process, “I can’t seem to fall asleep when I opt for sugary drinks, therefore, I’ll have to have it plain.”

Slowly nodding, her mother placed the small packet of sugar back in its place, bringing the two cups filled with scalding tea to the place where Dajung’s arm rested and subsequently the kettle, as she knew the desire of refilling their cups was imminent, for their late-night conversations consume the entirety of the moon.

With a small pout forming in her lips, Dajung’s mother attentively stared at her, “You lost a lot of weight,” a thick fog of silence as those words were pronounced, “Your skin has lost its glow and has now become dry,” her mom paused, looking down at the table, “You should put on some weight.”

Time stood still on a glass window, unsure of its next move, as Dajung stared out of the window upon hearing the mentioning of her weight. Hope had overtaken her heart when she had first arrived home and her mom strayed from stating the changes that had occurred to her body. However, in a matter of seconds, this hope was ruthlessly snatched as the question she hoped to avoid for a long time was asked out of the blue, with no previous warning having been given.

Scratching the back of her neck, Dajung cleared , “I’m still healthy, mom,” she unhurriedly said, “The weight that I lost was through exercising and eating healthily, my health is not being jeopardized.”

“I hope not,” her mother breathed out, “You have anemia. It’s dangerous for you to lose a lot of weight in a short amount of time.”

Forcing a smile, Dajung placed her hand atop of her mother’s, “Don’t worry. I’m constantly being cautious. I just debuted, the last thing I want to do is be unhealthy as it could potentially endanger my group’s career.”

“How is Kyulbin doing?” her mother suddenly asked, “I recall you telling me she suffered an injury, however, I don’t know if she has been improving.”

Puckering her lips, Dajung squinted her eyes, constructing a coherent sentence that would summarize everything that had happened to her beloved roommate, Kyulbin. “At the beginning, the improvement was almost absent, however, ever since she started walking around the neighborhood and attending physical therapy she has been improving amazingly fast. A full recovery is expected by the beginning of November.”

An immense smile took over her mother’s features at the positive news that had just been delivered, “That’s good, I was extremely worried about her, especially because I presumed she would bring herself down and blame herself for the halt put on Ethereal activities.”

“Initially she did, but with time she understood that she wasn’t to blame and that her injury was caused by the miscommunication of the staff that was present at the time,” Dajung carefully explained as she occasionally sipped her tea.

Placing her head on her hand, Dajung’s mother sighed, “And how’s that friend of yours,” her mom stopped talking, as if she was trying to remember the name of the said individual, “Mark is it? You usually always talk about him when you visit me, however, not even once his name has been pronounced since you arrived. Did something happen between the two of you? Are you finally dating?”

With an unexpected question came an unexpected reaction, which led to a chuckle escaping from her mother’s lips, hesitantly, Dajung proceeded to muster up the courage to develop a coherent sentence, “We aren’t dating, mom. We are just friends that support each other to the fullest.”

“I still think that the two of you suit each other,” her mom quickly said, “You compliment each other very well, and I also think he’s very fond of you. There’s something about the way he looks at you.”

Blinking her eyes rapidly, Dajung brought her hand to her chest, feeling her quickened heartbeat, “The way he looks at me?”

Tapping a finger repeatedly on her nose as she reassessed the situation and its destination, Dajung’s mother spoke, “I’ll now proceed to rephrase my previous words: embraces the opportunity of you looking away or being distracted to glance at you.”

Shaking her head, Dajung profusely refused to believe the words that come out of her mother’s mouth, “I doubt it,” glancing at the floor she let out a sigh, “Perhaps he’s looking at something that’s standing next to me.”

Rubbing her forehead, Dajung’s mom began to speak, “Dajungie, every time Mark sees you, his eyes are replaced with hearts. He’s so in love with you that I am, to be quite honest with you, mesmerized at how you are so unaware of how his behavior changes whenever you are around. He’s constantly smiling, stuttering and almost melts when you flash him a smile.”

The shock wasn’t created over the possibility of having someone romantically like her, the shock was rather created at the sight of the probability of her best friend liking her despite being a flawed human being for in her eyes she was not worthy of love.

of mellow winds & dull skies
SEPTEMBER 24TH, 2016

Meilin had never truly understood the notion behind the multifaceted yet artless word ‘love’ and the infatuation most directed towards it. Perchance, if she had been taught from her blossoming, she would have wholeheartedly embraced it and dictate her existence around such measly euphoric sentiment. However, she wasn’t, if anything she was taught to loathe it as love was not crafted for those whose brains are reined by science.

The brain, in which only the numbers swam and colors to be splattered onto a blank canvas flew in, denied the existence of exterior components. In the middle of numbers and colors rested in the absence of sentiments the wind could effortlessly sway.

Affection was, unfortunately, one of the measly sentiments the warm and scented wind had obligated her monochromatic world to passionately accept and comprehend.

Seasons passed and with that passage of time, various individuals were brought by the wind into Meilin’s live.  Jangmi and Taeyong were, however, the only individuals that embraced the coffee scented letters that assimilated the skies that consumed Seoul when Autumn came for she was of such peculiar existence, they could not bear the sight of her roaming her homochromous world alone.  

The once empty streets were now filled with the wild, unknown flowers that bloomed in secrecy when Spring came. Beauty so mesmerizing had colored her world in an immeasurable amount of shades. Or so everyone thought, for from the outside the crooked reality was hidden by a polychromatic veil of roses.

With her head rested on her forearm, looking at the stained window through the overgrown strands of hair of the bangs she had gotten for ‘Russian Roulette’ a sigh escaped from her lips, a shiver trickling down her spine. The ex