PART II

vii. Today, Of All Days

"It seems like the way of parting is the right thing

The answer has come down for several times

From one to ten, aren’t we different?

Whatever we do, we always hurt each other"

 

TAEYEON

She sits in the lounge room staring blankly at the screen, vivid colours of the repetitive commercials flashing brightly, burning its obscene hues into the back of her glassy eyes. Taeyeon never really watched television, finding that the programs never interested her—not that she really had the time to do so—not with her schedule packed to the brim, full of dance practices, recording sessions and guest appearances.

 

That is until now.

 

Because within the gossip and all the news, within the footage that would display themselves on the widescreen monitor, captured through the lens of someone else’s camera, Taeyeon could find Jessica Jung. And, like a fool, she kept coming back and back; for those few seconds, for those few glimpses of the fashion designer. It was a hopeless comfort that barely filled the gaping void within, but, it was enough. Enough to get her through another day, another sunrise and sunset.

 

The first time had been an accident.

 

The second time had been a coincidence.

 

And the countless other times that followed were all out of her own volition.

 

It gets to the point where she ends up watching videos of Jessica in the middle of the night, waiting till Tiffany’s breathing slows before allowing her Jessica playlist of videos to play nonstop, on loop.

 

It becomes a habit, and one night becomes one week and Taeyeon forfeits hours of her sleep until Jessica’s voice has replaced her late-night playlist of ballad songs.

 

She wonders if it has become an addiction, because despite feeling like she was rehashing healing wounds, dragging a scalpel across a barely healed scar, she can’t stop. Taeyeon thinks she might be broken inside, missing a gear or cog somewhere, because she thinks she enjoys it--the pain; and she might even be getting a high from the all the heartbreak that accompany her thoughts of Jessica; destroyed and comforted by it all the same.

 

Maybe she desperately clings onto the pain because to her, it was a way to hold onto her memories of the fashion designer; by anchoring them to such a strong emotion that they would never fade from her mind or her heart (and she would have the scars to prove it).

 

The first time it had happened, Taeyeon had happened to glance up at the sudden explosion of noise. It had been courtesy of Sooyoung turning on the television set, intending on settling on the couch to catch the new episode of whatever melodramatic drama was airing.

 

The loud outburst of sound had disrupted Taeyeon’s quiet perusal of notes and Taeyeon had reflexively looked up at the offending source, only to find Sooyoung shooting her an apologetic smile, hastily reaching for the discarded remote to reduce the volume. In that brief moment, Taeyeon’s eyes had flickered to the screen, finding a segment from the latest tabloid news playing.

 

Jessica Jung.

 

As recognition had dawned on her, eliciting the familiar dull ache in her chest, Taeyeon finds her eyes are unable to look away, held prisoner by a twisted mixture of curiosity and of painful longing.

 

Exclusive interview—Jessica Jung

Fashion designer Jessica Jung launches Blanc. Experts predict Blanc to become an iconic fashion brand.

 

The frame fills with the face that Taeyeon had not been able to stop thinking about (even against her better judgement). One that has etched itself into her memories, and as Jessica appears on screen, she's transfixed.

 

It was the first time she'd seen Jessica since the day in the studio, and without restraint, she hungrily drinks in the sight, eyes roaming over the delicate features of Jessica’s face, perhaps hoping that the sight would ease the constricting tightness in her chest.

 

It doesn’t.

 

The fashion designer looked effortlessly elegant, flawless features complemented by simple makeup, looking every bit the girl she'd fallen for—beautiful, classy and intelligently witty. Taeyeon remains frozen, unable to turn away, unable to do what her rational mind was screaming at her to do—to get up, to turn away and just leave the room.

 

When she hears Jessica’s melodic voice, the hurt in her heart intensifies ten-fold, leaving her wondering if this was what heartbreak really felt like—a slow wrenching feeling of being torn apart, soul deconstructed piece by piece until nothing remained but broken fragments lying scattered and abandoned on the floor.

 

Taeyeon had wanted to see Jessica again, she had wanted to storm over to Jessica’s apartment, heart exploding with emotion and fists clenched in anguish, but something about the downcast expression on her best friend’s face stopped her.

 

She had seen the look of desolation on Tiffany’s face after returning from Blanc’s opening and Tiffany’s silence had told her all she needed to know.

 

Stay away from me please.

 

Jessica didn’t want to hear from her.

 

The brunette probably blamed her, or hated her even for ruining what it was they had and by extension, what Jessica had with Donghae.

 

Tiffany was wrong—she was selfish.

 

Taeyeon bites down hard on her lip, almost drawing blood and tears well up in her eyes. She pretends that the warm liquid threatening to streak down her cheeks was from the pain of her lip, pretends that she’s fine with her decisions and pretends that it didn’t hurt her to let Jessica go.

 

It was her fault and she had to accept the consequences.

 

And as always, time continues to pass, the world continues to turn and the interview continues to play on the screen.

 

"Is this why Jessica unnie hasn't come around recently?"

 

Sooyoung too, seems to be transfixed by the interview, staring intently and making no move to change the channel even when the clock chimed, indicating that the drama she had originally intended to watch had begun to air over on another channel.

 

Taeyeon debates the pros and cons of just telling the truth, of letting Sooyoung know that Jessica was most likely never going to return, but in the end, she can’t bear to. She’s not ready for the slew of questions that will inevitably be thrown her way and Taeyeon swallows the truth that has half risen up in .

 

"Sort of."

 

"She's pretty amazing."

 

"She is." Taeyeon says, feeling longing well up in her chest. The raven-haired idol hesitantly gets up from the table where she had been sitting, slowly making her way towards the couches, settling down beside Sooyoung. The two of them silently watch as Jessica answers the interviewer's questions, her voice swirling around the room, amplified by the television’s speakers and ringing loudly in Taeyeon’s ears.

 

Tiffany finds them hours later, sitting on the floor, watching videos on Sooyoung’s laptop of Krystal's catwalk and behind the scenes footage of her Blanc photoshoots.

 

"Taeyeon." Tiffany warns, voice low, because the red-haired idol just somehow knew.

 

Taeyeon supposes that it wasn’t hard for Tiffany to make the connection between what she was doing and what she was thinking, after all, Krystal was as close as she could get to Jessica without being openly overwhelmed by her painful memories. She was skirting dangerously close to reopening healing wounds but she wants to keep watching, wants to be reminded and wants to keep pressing on the still healing bruise, revelling in how it seemed to hurt less each time round.

 

Or maybe she was just growing accustomed to the pain.

 

Taeyeon finds an inkling of pain flickering across Tiffany’s face, a momentary shadow that blankets her friend’s usually bright disposition; casting long shadows as creases draw themselves onto a forehead, and eyes blink away unshed tears.

 

She wonders when she would stop hurting those around her, and turns away with a twinge in her heart.

 

“Unnies…?”

 

Sooyoung looks between the two of them questioningly, knowing that there was a silent conversation going on, but not quite grasping the unspoken words being exchanged, left confused and uneasy.

 

A prolonged silence hangs between them.

 

Taeyeon finally sighs and pushes off the floor, legs stiff from being folded, having sat on the hard floor for too long.

 

"I'm tired, I think I'm going to head to bed now…”

 

The video finishes and the next one begins to buffer.

 

Tiffany’s expression falls slightly, her eyes gaze absentmindedly at the computer screen and Taeyeon’s words go unacknowledged. Taeyeon follows her gaze and finds herself watching a smile dance across familiar lips—Jessica’s.

 

Something constricts in Taeyeon’s chest and she turns her back to the laptop, hiding her glistening eyes from the two other girls. Her thoughts drift to Jessica Jung—to the sound of Jessica’s melodic voice, the smell of her rose body fragrance, and the feel of Jessica’s honey brown hair tangled in Taeyeon’s fingers.

 

Words come to the tip of her tongue and with them follows a sad revelation that she finally allows herself to fully accept.

 

Words that would now never get the chance to be heard by the rightful recipient, to be forever buried in her heart.

 

I love her.

 

I am in love with her.

 

“Taeyeon?”

 

Tiffany’s voice gently draws her away from her thoughts, trying to anchor her, to steady her but it was too late.

 

Taeyeon was too late.

 

“G-goodnight, Tiff. Goodnight, Soo."

 

It's all Taeyeon can manage before her voice begins to waver, trying to containing the flood of tears that were threatening to come forth, and as she walks away, the tightness in her chest grows with every step.

/

Taeyeon knocks on the closed door of the official recording studio, knowing that the producer who was working with her on her album was in there.

 

"Oh, Taeyeon-ssi, is there something I can help you with?"

 

Taeyeon glances behind him, finding the room empty.

 

"Oppa, are you free? I'm here to discuss something about my album."

 

The producer nods once and steps back allowing Taeyeon to enter the room. She suppresses a shiver as she realises she hadn't set foot in her studio since Jessica's abrupt exit from her life. Taeyeon frowns wondering how Jessica had managed to take not just Taeyeon's heart but the escape her studio had offered with her as well.

 

"I made some amendments to my title track."

 

Taeyeon lifts the stack of papers she had held in her right hand, carefully passing them over to the man.

 

The producer tilts his head questioningly, and becomes silent as he takes in the messy music scores she had handed him.

 

“Hmm…amendments this late?”

 

Taeyeon shifts in place, apprehension growing with each tick of the obnoxiously loud clock hung upon the wall behind her, half worried that he will lash out in offense because she knew she was pushing the boundaries of her position.

 

She was bordering on being unprofessional.

 

"This...this is very different to the version you gave us earlier." The producer knots his brows together and scratches the nape of his neck. "The melody line has changed and you've changed the key...actually, you've completely rewritten the song—is something wrong , Taeyeon?"

 

Taeyeon bows apologetically.

 

"Something just changed, and I can no longer envision working on the previous version...I know this is a lot to ask but can you please, look over this version and ignore the previous one?"

 

The producer looks at her for a long time, eyes filled with a strange scrutinising quality that makes Taeyeon worry that he can see her true feelings and discern the real reason for the song's drastic metamorphosis. She almost reaches out to take her music scores back, almost asks him to forget her silly request.

 

Her hand twitches and stills again.

 

Maybe it didn't matter if he could see how broken she was.

 

Because even if he couldn't, he would surely hear it in her music—fragments of her soul having found a way to exist in the spaces between the melody and harmony; wedging themselves there and lingering.

 

The producer sighs, shaking his head slightly. "Taeyeon, this is an unusual request, if not unheard of from an idol because you are essentially asking me to throw away all the time I spent working on our song."

 

Taeyeon looks down at her feet, bracing herself for the inevitable rejection she would hear.

 

"I would normally say no, and I should say no...but, because I have always enjoyed working with you and I can see that it means something important to you, I will agree just this once."

 

"Really?"

 

Taeyeon blinks dumbfounded. She had hoped he would agree but had never expected him to, and it takes her by surprise.

 

"This is when you should say thank you, Taeyeon-ssi."

 

The disbelief subsides and gradually becomes a tide of gratitude that washes over her.

 

"Thank you, oppa. I'm really grateful, and I will work hard to record this perfectly."

 

The producer smiles at her, "I know you will Taeyeon, you always have. You bring a certain personal quality to your work, and it makes it relatable. You’re not just selling a concept, but you’re telling a story; a story that the fans out there can relate to and become emotionally invested in. The same way love songs are so popular, because they speak of a universal human need."

 

He passes back her sheet music, handling the paper in a manner than confirms to Taeyeon he knew the unspoken words contained within the song. "Is it still called Rain ?"

 

"Yes."

 

The producer places a hand on her shoulder, a warm, comforting weight that grounds her, leaving her feeling a sense of calm reassurance.

 

"Taeyeon-ssi, on the days where all you feel is the cold downpour of rain soaking you to the bones, the wind slicing at you with personal vengeance, and you begin to drown in the seemingly never-ending deluge, remember that storms don’t last forever. It will ultimately pass—be it in a week, a month or a year’s time."

 

"Thank you oppa." Taeyeon says quietly, the fluorescent light of the room reflecting off her shining eyes, and she wonders if the storm that raged around her was, too, going to end.

/

The evening air is strangely still, free from the influence of wind that draws it this way and that, and in its eerily stillness it clings to Taeyeon’s exposed skin, as if intent on luring away the little warmth she had. As Taeyeon rolls up her sleeves, Goosebumps dance across her bare skin, the new territory claimed too by the cool night air.

 

The sky is hung just out of reach from the inky clutches of night, remnants of afternoon light still lingering, barely visible and blending imperceptibly into the darkening sky.

 

The idol regards the skyline for a moment, taking in the lights beginning to flicker on, watching the formation of a sea of artificial stars and making her feel insignificant, just another lonely individual grander scheme of things.

 

She reaches into the pocket of her red and black checkered button down, fingers knocking against a hard edge, absentmindedly running along its glossy surface and flipping open the lid of its packaging. Taeyeon draws out a single cigarette, and it’s a different kind of light that she holds in her hands.

 

The smooth yet grainy texture scrapes against her fingertips as she rolls the cigarette between her forefinger and thumb—back and forth, again and again.

 

Taeyeon imagines lighting it, imagines the fire scorched air as it moves into her lungs, pulling with it a trail of burning smoke, and the sensation of drawing air in but not quite like that of breathing. She imagines the smoke settling in her lungs and on her vocal cords, the chemicals insidiously beginning the course of her destruction, eating her from the inside out.

 

The sliding door behind her rumbles as its frame shifts along the tracks, as if opening a gateway from one realm to another. Taeyeon turns her head out of instinct rather than a conscious choice or a curiosity about the intruder who had stepped into her sanctuary.

 

“Taeyeon unnie?!”

 

The cigarette falls still, hanging limply, wedged between the light grip of her index and middle fingers.

 

The maknae eyes flicker to her hand, or more specifically the object between her fingers and Seohyun’s voice comes out a mixture of disbelief and horror. It wavers as it pitches, arcing high through the atmosphere, rippling the air, and disrupting its stillness.

 

Striding across the limited space of the balcony that separates them, Seohyun catches Taeyeon’s wrist with a tight unrelenting grip.

 

“What are you doing!”

 

Taeyeon flinches. The hardness in the girl's tone matches that of her grip, and Taeyeon finds herself intimidated by the intense eyes boring into hers. The sheer emotion shaking, uncontrolled in the younger girl’s eyes, takes Taeyeon aback, having never seen such quality in the usually calm maknae’s eyes.

 

“I—I wasn’t going to.”

 

Seohyun steps back, hand still looped around Taeyeon's wrist but the choking hold of earlier is no longer present. Instead, it is replaced by a loose grip, fingers curled gently around her wrist—no longer in restraint— but rather as if Seohyun was afraid that she would lose Taeyeon should she let go.

 

"I don't know what you are thinking Unnie… Those things are...” The maknae trails off, lips pulled into a thin line, unable to finish the sentence. She inhales and starts her sentence again, voice softer, but just as disappointed. “You're a singer, Taeyeon...how could you?"

 

"I wasn't going to, Seohyun." Taeyeon says quietly, just loud enough to be hear, unsure if the words were spoken out of reflex, offering comfort to the younger girl—a by-product of years of being their leader, their source of reassurance and strength—or out of genuine honesty.

 

But she would be lying if she said she hadn't thought about it—contemplated the temptation. Thought about the way it would kill her—slowly and almost innocently, and still she would be helplessly addicted, willingly falling into its embrace again and again.

 

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