Military Break

The moon is waning, hiding behind clouds. The hemisphere grows heavier under N’s feet. The only thing that supports him is not the world around him, but the peeling wall of a corner store that is set as his unassuming backdrop. The manager of the store remembers N---he was their best employee at his time. N is grateful that the manager did not run away from him like homouality is a disease that he can catch. Tonight, he has done more than enough for N when he gives him the liberty to perform in public when he is suppose to hide.

The mike stands firm in the rustling wind. The guitar is strapped to the front of his torso. N has warmed up in the van on the way here from the military base. He only has a short leave, so he wants to sing from his notebooks as soon as possible and as much as time would allow him to. His hand poises over the strings. His heart beats against his chest like hummingbird fighting against the current of wind. He hums the new song a bit. He is amazed that his voice still sounds the same after six months of disuse. He imagines red petals of roses bloom in his melodies.

“Can you feel the love tonight?

I made this song to lull you into my light.

You’re the darkest thoughts that consume me.

You’re the bright spot in the dark.

You’re my burning star.”

No one walks past the tiny corner store at twelve a.m. Though his light voice travels for only two meter, it is a voice that he owns. Bile rises in his throat. He smiles at the two people coming in and out of the store. No one stops for more than one second for him. His voice becomes shakier, less certain of itself.

The sound is small at first, but N hears it. It is a slow tapping against course jeans. Ravi hums along to the brand new composition. He sings the cheesy lines professing love: “‘I’m in love with the fact that you love this song as much as I do.’” Their fingers strum along the same rhythm, the same chord. N pronounces the last line in hope, as if the song puts little stars in his eyes.

“Ravi, you always finds me anywhere,” says N.

Ravi grins, clearly ignoring his teasing. “I learned stalking from an expert.”

“Good for you.” N steps away from the mike to sit on the doorsteps.

Ravi comes over next to him. “How long is your holiday?”

“Three days.”

“That .” Ravi grabs N’s water bottle and drinks from it. N’s evil side eye has no effect on him. “Chill. It’s just a bottle. We share saliva all the time.” Ravi laughs when N cringes. “What’s your plan? Are you going to play for the ghosts three days straight?”

“I have one person listening; that’s enough.”

“I’m flattered.”

N stares at him. “Not everything is about you. I’d say that to anyone.”

Ravi fist-bumps N’s shoulder. “But you are grateful to the only one listening to you. I’m special.”

“Yeah.” N steals back his water bottle. He drinks from it, covering up his smile. “I sing for whoever listens.”

Ravi leans back on his left hand. “You’re not singing for yourself?”

N shakes his head. “Of course not. I don’t think writers write for themselves either.”

“Not always. I write for myself and want to make money out of it.”

N glances at him. “What about your readers? Don’t they make you feel good?”

“Sometimes. The good readers make me feel good. The ones who don’t get my stories can piss off.”

“That’s harsh. What about the readers who try to understand you?”

Ravi leans in close. His gaze holds onto N firmly. “Are you trying to understand me?” He whispers. “I’d love that.”

N gasps as Ravi’s breath hits his lips.

Ravi pulls back an inch. “You remind me of my younger self.”

N rolls his eyes. “We grew up together.”

Ravi continues without hearing N. “When I was a nobody, I was really grateful for that one reader I had. Then I got more famous; I started to care for more people and how they feel about me than I probably should. But that’s stupid. I can’t last this long if I let negativity gets to me, so I don’t write for anybody. I stopped caring.” Ravi shudders. “But you’re different, N.” His dark orbs come into the light when he calls his name. “You admitted to everyone your mistake because you care about your fans. You were being brave for them.

“I’m really proud of you, Hakyeon.”

A real smile appears on Hakyeon’s face. The feeling of pride has been struggling to poke its head through the turbulent surface. He has been enduring the hardcore training at the military with his head held high. He has been getting along with his comrades in his units little by little after he showed them his impeccable side in front of them without being intimidated by their bullying. He even started writing songs.

It is nice to hear someone else who recognizes that N is changing. “I sing for the people who love me.”

“Really?” Ravi raises his brow. “I always thought that you do what you love because you were born to do it. When you dance, the whole world disappears. You disappear.”

“Maybe that’s how I started out; that’s before I received so much love from the public. I can’t live without them.”

Ravi nods. “I can feel the love you have for whoever listens to you tonight. It’s not a typical love song. It’s a gratitude song.” His profile seems softer now with only the light floods over him. He seems less daunting in person than someone far away from the letters and from the past.

“Thanks,” says N. He picks up his empty bottle with him as he gets up, without perceiving Ravi’s reaction.

Ravi stands up too. “The letters… Did you receive them?”

N looks back at him. “I did.”

“Why-”

Why don’t I return them? “I have a lot to think about.” N takes a deep breath. He needs to do this slowly. “I want to know what went wrong if I want to understand your story...our story. But I don’t mind the letters.” N stays quiet while he packs away his mike. “Where are you going with your letters?”

Ravi looks dumbstruck. “They are my messages going to you.”

“I mean, you aren’t going home, so where are you going?”

Ravi smiles, suddenly enlightened. “I am going home, Hakyeon.”

Bus Stop

Ken runs away from the flurry snowflakes. He takes shelter under the see-through canopy of the bus stop. The thick white wall obscures the fancy buildings on the opposite side. Ken daydreams about entering those spacious offices that sell insurance or beauty products. He sells stuff too and he should be proud of how many slew rat-eye customers want a piece of the famous people’s misery from him. “Are we going under?” Ken asked his boss earlier.

“Why do you think that?”

Ken replied: “Because everyone in the business hates us.”

The boss shrugged and said he should be chill about N’s scandal.

Ken shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't snap his neck. Either his boss was stupid to think that everything was fine or he just didn’t give a about what happened to Scandal News and his employees. Deep down, Ken knew that his boss was no fool; he probably found a new, brighter path for himself, ready to jump off the burning ship and into a life-saving boat.

Where is Ken’s safe boat at?

“Jaehwan.”

His head jerks at the sound of the man calling him without a second thought. It is ingrained in him to respond immediately to his voice. His hair has grown out and the old leather brown strings is now crow black. His droopy eyes light up like left-over glitters in a dusty jar. Like Ken, he hides his hands in his black peacock coat. He dresses like the Grim Reaper.

“I wasn't sure if it was you…” Ravi fidgets with his coat.

“Ravi,” says Ken. He is glad that his own hands are in his pockets so he can’t see him shake like a drenched pup in the alley.

“It's been too long.” Ravi doesn’t stray far from Ken’s face. They let the snow and wind swirl around them. They are supposed to be the two statutory characters inside of the snow globe. The same picture is transported to the new place and time. More people run for the canopy and breaks the glass protecting them from the real world. Ravi shuffles over to Ken. He corners him into the dead end.

“How have you been?” asks Ravi. He is so close that his white breath touches the tip of his nose.

Ken squirms away. “Okay. I'm out of job soon.”

A forming smile dances on Ravi’s face. “Too bad I can't help you with that. I'm going to lose my job too, but I’ll see you around. I’m a film critic for Seoul News.”

“Good for you.”

“Hey.”

Ken looks back at him. Anyone will say that Ken has a poker face. He’s just dumbstruck.

“I told you we’ll meet again.” Ravi grins. He looks too happy.

Ken says nothing, dismissing Ravi’s excitement like brushing the microscopic snowflakes off his coat.

“Can I have your number?” Ravi asks.

His blank face suddenly contorts. “I still have yours.”

Ravi flinches as if boiling water splatters on him. He takes a step back.

Two beams of lights stream through the white veil. A gigantic vehicle follows close on the light. Ken takes out his transit card. He spits out “it's good to see you again” as an afterthought before hopping onto the bus and leaving Ravi on a cold day like he did to him.

Cafeteria

The next time they met again, Ravi asked Ken to have dinner at the cafeteria. Though Ken slipped away, now he found himself ordering his chicken curry at the cafeteria. As he strolls along the glass that separates the interior from the outdoor tables, Ravi looks up from his food and meets his eyes. Gripping the tray and a white plastic bag in his hands, he pushes the door open with his foot and sits across from him.

It looks like they are having meals in a greenhouse. The jagged leaves of cheap house plants reach out to suffocate them.

Ken hurls the plastic bag at Ravi’s direction.

Ravi slowly extends his hand to the bag. He unties it when Ken doesn’t stop him. He takes out a small blue velvet box. He glances at Ken once more. He is expressionless. Ravi flips the cover open. It is empty.

“What is this?” asks Ravi. His deep brown eyes that train on Ken makes him dizzy. That look resembles the look that he has after someone rejected his manuscript. Ken half expects him to storm off to shut himself up in a dark room like he would have done during a slump.

“I was going to propose to you five years ago.” Ken catches himself whizzing out those words.

Ravi closes it. His face flushes. Silence hangs over them. He can only look at the closed box and says, “I should’ve been the one proposing.”

Ken would not have been more shocked if Ravi told him that he only likes girl. “What the are you saying? You broke up with me.”

“I shouldn’t have.”

Ken’s lips tremble. “It’s too late now.”

Ravi takes up the empty box again and rotates the non-existent promises in his palm. “Did your dad know?”

So he wouldn’t beg him to go back to him? Ken’s lips press together into a rigid line. “Know what? Know about us? Know that I’m gay?” He raises his voice. “Hell yeah. That’s what you wanted, right? You did the ing right thing breaking up with me. You opened a whole new world for me. I could do nothing else after you left me so I told him, now he hates me. That’s what you ing wanted. You wanted me to lose everyone.”

“That’s not what I wanted.” Ravi’s face is red too from shouting. “Things didn’t work out.”

“Things didn’t work out for you. I was doing fine.”

“You were deep in the closet.”

“Huh.” Ken sounds baffled. “So it’s all my fault.”

They stare down at each other, although their prides level them up on the same ground.

“I always thought you had someone else,” says Ken. He hates himself for the crack in his voice.

Ravi makes his retreat. Ken can tell from his soft brown eyes. “No. I only had you. You are the one I love.”

Ken releases a shuddering breath. “I wish I didn’t talk to you.” He retrieves the box and backs away from his old lover. The only good thing that he takes away from the conversation is his cooled-down food.

October 5, 2016

Dear Hakyeon,

Have you ever hurt someone unintentionally?

I thought I was a good person. I pay my taxes on time with the right amount ever since I got my first paycheque. I donate to charity when there is a natural disaster crisis like they always have in Japan. I let people leave when they have to go. Tell me it was right of me not to go after you all the way to Seoul. Tell me it wasn’t right to let him go.

But I did end up going after you. I did end up letting him go. I let him go because I didn’t want to hurt my own benefits and waste his time in the process. After some cost-benefit analysis, I thought I made a right decision.

I’ve never told anyone how I started writing in the first place, not even to him, until recently. Now he’s mad at me. I don’t think you know this  either: I was lying in the hospital one day after you left. And I wrote. I poured my hatred and hopelessness on the lined papers. Mostly, I was confused. I didn’t understand why you would leave me all of a sudden, until I wrote. I found my strengths and your weaknesses in those words. Eventually, I got over the feeling of betrayal with each second passed.

I kept getting better at writing and so did you with your dancing. Now I’m here to meet you only. I hate myself for taking the sweet damn time though. I should have been there for you before that ing bastard had a chance to ruin your career.

Love,

Wonshik

N scribbles something in his notebook. The faint glow of the bedside lamp paints the papers yellow. “You are my broken piece of memory. When I piece you together, we’ll have the whole world.” He mulls over the tip of his pencil. He writes more nonsense. “When we meet tomorrow, will you recognize me as your completion?” The cheap graphite breaks. N fights the urge to fling it across the room and potentially hits someone in his sweet dream.

Who is he? The nagging question crawls around N’s skull ever since the letter arrived this morning. If he actually gets to meet Ravi tomorrow, he vows to get the answer out of him.

N nearly laughs. Why does he care anyway? What happened to Ravi should not concern him one bit. Though he should have read through his script carefully, so he knows who that guy was. Now he is losing sleep because of curiosity.

Someone sinks besides him. N shuts his notebook with a slam. He straightens his back to face his squad leader. He salutes him.

He pats his knee. “Relax. It's your last day. What’s your next move, comrade?”

“Comrade” is a common word, but it triggers tears today.

“I’ve been trying to write some songs. I don't know where they will end up though.”

His leader tells him, “People forget. You need to have the resolve to attack and fight back.” The small globe of light shines on half of his leader’s face, keeping the other half in the dark. His voice is like light wind passing through a summer windchime, but in the dark, its softness reminds N of his own voice in the depth of his own consciousness. Then his voice gains strength: “It’s possible for the ‘weaker one’ to beat the stronger enemy. That's how the Vietnamese ended the war and reunified as one country.”

N nods along even though his knowledge on warfare and history is limited. Somehow, it still makes sense to him. It is like the fox can survive from the lion’s pursue because it is smarter and has its life on the line, while the lion has less things to lose than the fox. The stake is ultimately higher for the losing side. N will run in the wild with all he has.

“After you got out, N, dedicate a song to all of us. You can produce an epic mixtape dissing the ones who beat you up. It will be turnt.”

N grins. Did anyone use the word “turnt” anymore in the real world? The idea of him spitting fire is just ludicrous. He listens to his comrades snore, including the ones who once made his life here bleak and unendurable. But how long can he hate the only guys that had his back in drills and shooting practices---the only ones who would jump off of high places with him, acting like every minute of their days is on a life-or-death simulator? When will he ever experience the boring routines and back-breaking works, or getting dirty in all places imaginable, or feeling accomplished with his team? He feels like he has spent twenty years with them instead of two.

“After we all get out of here, we’ll go out for drinks as civilians,” says the leader.

Their laughs are low, almost inaudible. As he is about to leave N to his thoughts, he asks as an afterthought: “Would you rather die or lose your legs and arms in a battle?”

“What do you think?”

“I will choose living, but I don’t think you would.”

“No. I wouldn’t.”

The leader wishes him good luck. He tells N that he already lost his chance to die; now he has to live.

A/N: Finally Ken and Ravi's story is starting (again)! Please tell me what do you think so far with RavixKen and RaviXN! Can't wait for N to embark in his semi new life as well... :) 

Subscribe and upvote if you are intrigued or enjoying this so far. 

And... Happy Valentine's Day! Hope you guys have fun with dates and friends. ;)

-suzyelf