The sun sets with Sungjin reaching out for his guitar and slinging the strap over his shoulder. He watches the rest of his band set up alongside him— watches the neon pink sun dip into the horizon of rooftops. As the rough edges of the city soften in the moments the sunset blends into the summer night, the roof deck seems to transform where the light is warped by the endless string of fairy lights giving the floor and the stage a warm honey glow. With the reassuring weight of his guitar against him, he breathes in the few seconds of silence before the sound. Then he sees her and falls apart.

Sungjin has read somewhere that you can only hold a smile for so long. After that, it’s just teeth. But not until this moment, standing on the wooden platform and holding onto his white Gibson Les Paul like a lifeline, has he given the phrase any thought. The fact that he remembers at all gives him pause. As far as he can tell, he has had no discernible reason to keep such words bookmarked, yet here they are in striking clarity. As if the universe has known all along that one day these words will return to mock him. He’s just another punchline in the joke called Life.

Begrudgingly, he concedes.

Universe: 1

Park Sungjin: 0

Of all habits, Nayeon has to be the hardest to break. He sees her even in his stageblindness, finds her lithe form in the crowd, sees that she’s not alone, sees her arm curled around someone else’s elbow. Of course, she’s moved on. It’s been so long, half a year and counting it’s only right. But the look on her face is a mixture of guilt and shock. Neither of them should even be so surprised, Nayeon less so. She called him the weekend before to, in her words, check in on him. It’s been a while, she said, I’ll see you at the party. You guys are playing, right? Let’s catch up?

How could he possibly say no to that?

Even if he wanted to, he can’t. It’s Sunye’s wedding rehearsal dinner party and they’re all invited. All of them in their extended group of friends and secondhand friends, a mix of university and work seniors and juniors. Everyone will be there. People he hasn’t seen in years will be there. And Sungjin wants to go. Even if Sunye hadn’t asked him to bring his band along to play for the night, he still would have. Why prolong the inevitable? Eventually he’ll have to come face to face with Nayeon anyway.

To anyone peripherally aware, the breakup came amicably. Ask anyone in their extended circle of friends and they would say Sungjin and Nayeon, the no-fuss no-drama childhood sweethearts, have simply fallen out of love. They’ve simply gone from friends, to lovers, and friends again. Life caught up with them and they’ve become different people, but no love is lost between them. Impossible, you say? Exes can’t be friends. Not for Sungjin and Nayeon. If anyone can make it work, it would be those two, they said. At the time, it had been true. But even the truth has two sides, and Sungjin is still picking up the pieces of his broken heart, still unlearning habits he’s developed through the years, experiencing everything for the first time all over again, battling the loneliness that goes with being alone. But his heart is no longer Nayeon’s concern, so even though he’s bleeding heartache onstage, Sungjin takes a moment and breathes.

He slides a foot back, shifts his weight forward so he’s crouching into the mic, and paints a serene smile on his face.

Dowoon bangs his drumsticks together and it’s all Sungjin needs to pay attention to. His hands know their way around the body of his guitar and the familiar thrum of steel fills him. There is only the music— the metallic shredding of Jae’s Stratocaster, the deep pulsing of Brian’s bass, the hypnotic trance of Wonpil’s synths, and the crashing of Dowoon’s drums. Sungjin is in every part of this moment. He is both the crest and trough of this soundwave, both the rhythm and the release. Singer and song. His raspy voice pours out yearning and longing as his fingers press hard into the chords. No more thinking, only feeling. All five of them, individual sounds perfectly aligned to time. On nights like these, when they are playing for friends, they can completely let loose.

This is when they are at their best, when they’re free to be themselves in the intimatacy of a raving moshpit. Brian is always the first to let go. Sungjin thinks Brian always forgets he’s a bassist, plays instead like a lead guitarist. Though to be fair, until Jae arrived Brian had been on lead guitar and center. Jae doubles as a hype-man, takes his role seriously, it’s a term Sungjin doesn’t understand (Bro, when are you getting to this decade? Jae asks) but is grateful for. But Jae’s only good for one task at a time, and when he’s focused on his lyrics or a riff, that’s all Jae knows to do. But that’s all Sungjin expects him to do. Wonpil is in a little world of his own within the confines of his double-layer synthesizers, MIDI controllers, and laptop.

They’re at the third minute of this song and Brian takes the chorus a step higher than they practice, sings like there’s something inside him that’s clamoring to get out. Jae has closed in on himself, he’s facing Dowoon now, Strat to his knees and his fingers making mad love to the strings. Wonpil finds a space for a synth solo, takes it and does not apologize for it. Dowoon is the only one Sungjin can count on to keep his cool. Dowoon is the clockwork. The only one of them too focused on keeping time, the solid backbone to which they build notes and sequences upon.

Sungjin tries to keep up, tries to ignore the fragments of Nayeon embedded in every word and sequence he’s contributed to their songs. The turns of phrase may distort the memory of when she was his, but the words flood his senses, the music leaves him defenseless and singing the words out loud now, Sungjin searches his mind for answers, for some kind of sign that teaches him how to forget, how to let go of the memories from when they were together.

What Sungjin learns about letting go is this: if he keeps the memories in his periphery while he walks away, it’s at that moment when the hurt is all but a tiny speck in the horizon does it come back to wrap its arms around him and pull him under.

Sungjin is drowning, and he can’t see the light above the water to lead him home.