Need You Now- Lady Antebellum

“There’s a fine, fine line, between a lover, and a friend.”

Friendship. That was the line that connected Baro and I through our life as B1A4, and that had been the line to connect us for as long as I could remember. No matter how many cruel jokes we pulled on each other, no matter how we poked fun at the other’s weak spots, no matter how much flak life drove us through, we had each other’s back, and that line remained steadfast.

There were moments, perhaps, somewhere along that line, when either of us could have wanted a little more, more than what we had then, but if we did, neither of us showed it. That was the way it remained, and it was the way it had to remain. If Baro needed help with his dance steps, I’d be more than happy to teach him, so I could spend an hour criticising his skills. If I needed help watching my diet, Baro would be the first to volunteer to “help”, so he could have an excuse to constantly drop snide remarks about my weight.

And if Baro happened to sneak into my bed sometimes, or vice versa, complaining about the cold, or a nightmare (it was usually me in this case), or just feeling lonely in their bed, it was alright, because it was what friends did.

Maybe we just didn’t want to upset the delicate balance of “best friends” to acknowledge the acts that sometimes crossed that fine, fine line.

Maybe we were just too scared.

Maybe we didn’t feel anything at all.

Whatever it was, it was something both of us had come to a silent agreement on, to push far, far into the region of Things Which Should Not Be Talked About.

Especially between two friends. Best friends, but just friends, all the same.

We were just teammates, fellow pranksters, nineteen and a half and taking over the world, one sprout at a time.

It had started out fine, because that was naturally how all good things start. We would go on rampages with embarrassing photos of each other on twitter, have verbal play fights during interviews, steal the other’s ramyun when we thought he wasn’t looking, and basically do all things that best friends do.

It also had its perks to it, the little things in life which people often don’t notice until they’re gone. Baro would wait for me till I had finished eating, while the others left first. I would accompany him in the studio while he tried a hand at composing. We would follow each other looking for toilets in new places, and these journeys would often turn into tours of the entire premises, until Jin Young called one of us to demand we show up at once or face the wrath of grandpa in an annoyed tone we could hear buzzing from the other’s cell phone.

There were also those moments, those times filled with precious seconds when we might just have crossed the fragile thread of friendship. Times like when I curled up under a comforter with him on the studio couch because it was too cold, and he was so close I could almost feel the warmth of his breath on my neck, and though I knew that there was a possibility here that the all-important Line was being breached, I didn’t pull away, all because it felt so right in Sun Woo’s embrace right then. There were other times, when we were coming back from practice or rehearsal, and the two of us were so dead beat that we just showered together, something I agreed to only because both of us were so exhausted we couldn’t see straight even if we tried.

At least, that was what I told myself.

The most magical of these moments were the ones spent with Baro every first Friday night of the month, or the fortnight, whichever we felt like. After making sure the other members were well and truly passed out in their beds, Baro and I would sneak out of the dorm wearing a couple of clever disguises, and we’d flag a cab to go to the cinema just a couple neighbourhoods away. After subjecting ourselves to two hours or so of overdramatic action, cheesy romcom or poorly done horror, Baro would complain that I ate too much of our popcorn, and I would shove him, and somehow, that would lead us to the cosy 24-hour diner across the street, where the kind halmoni with the laughter lines always gave us our drinks a little cheaper, to fulfil our midnight snack cravings.

Over two cream mugs of steaming, homemade hot chocolate, the occasional blueberry waffle, and cheeky jibes exchanged in whispers, was, perhaps, where that line was erased in my mind, and there was nothing but Sun Woo and Jung Hwan, and that was all the world needed to be perfect.

“I’ve been requested as a permanent co-MC for God of Cookery Road, Deul.”

I’d cheered over the phone, fist pumping even though I knew he wasn’t with me to see it, drawing weird stares from the passing makeup artists.

“Yay!” I’d said brightly. “Now you can become fat like me, and we’ll be fat together, Baro.”

He’d chortled over the other end, and I could hear someone shushing him in the background.

“What do you think our mommy and baby will say about this, Deullie?”

“Aww, am I the first one you told, Baro?” I simpered, fluttering my eyelids. “I’m touched.”

“Your name’s the first on my contact list,” Baro said, and I could almost see him rolling his eyes. “But I’m glad I fed your ego, more weight is totally all you need.”

I shut up here, pouting.

“Aww, did I hurt Sanduckie’s oversized ego?”

“I will spike all your food with the next time I cook,” I said venomously, and the hair stylist a chair to my right cast a rather disturbed look in my direction. I tried to send an apologetic look her way, before standing and attempting to flee the scene.

“Be prepared to help me solve my problems then,” Baro snorted.

“What?” I asked, a little flustered from trying to escape the stylist’s vicinity. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Nevermind,” Baro cleared his throat. “Seriously, though. I think Channie might be a little annoyed, he’s been wanting to host a show for a while now.”

It was only after we hung up, and I was in my seat, being tended to by the, now rather disgruntled looking, hair stylist, that I realised that both “Chansik” and “Dongwoo” were before “Jung Hwan” in the alphabet.

It was inevitable, then, that somewhere along the way, along that line that made its presence increasingly known as the days passed, things started to go downhill. The incessant roar from our career drowned out the sound of our friendship falling to pieces around my ears. But, then again, that was naturally how all good things ended.

While we’d counted on our friendship getting us through the rough bumps of our career, we’d never counted on our friendship lasting through our career.

The deterioration was slow, but steady. Preparations for our Japanese debut were tedious, and we were still trying to cope with the aftermath of our repackaged comeback. We just got busier and busier. I had to train my voice for our comeback, he had to compose, and we were slammed with so many Japanese lessons I swore I even started to dream in Japanese then.

Soon, we were lucky if we could even sneak out once a month. That was, of course, if he wanted to or not.

“Hyuung~” Chansik sang as he flounced into the room, carrying the laundry basket from the kitchen. “How’s life?”

“Peachy,” I grumbled, sorting out my lyric sheets on my mattress. They had been a mess since I just shoved them back into my file after I was done, explaining the crumpled, folded, disorganised pile they were in now. “Have you seen Baro? He has my pencil, that annoying prick…”

“He’s being briefed by manager now, I think,” Chansik said, his face screwed up in concentration. That made me look up in confusion.

“Briefed? About what?”

“His Dream Team filming, duh,” Chansik said, rolling his eyes, before something in the basket caught his eye, and he put it down to start rummaging.

“He’s in Dream Team?” I asked incredulously. “You mean God of Cookery Road, right?”

“Nope,” Chansik said, still absorbed in his rummaging. “Dream Team. Didn’t he tell you? He received the request a couple of days ago.”

“…No, he didn’t,” I scratched the back of my neck, feeling puzzled, albeit a little hurt as well, at the happenings. Chansik finally managed to extract what he’d been looking for, and his eyes widened as he held up a small black article.

“Hyung!” He exclaimed in partial shock, partial awe. “Is this Jin Young’s?”

I’d nodded absently, running an ink-stained hand through my hair, too caught up in my own thoughts, in thoughts of Baro, to focus on what the maknae was saying.

What had happened to telling me first?

Then things had gone back to normal, and I’d tried to bury what had happened that day, because it was only an obscure little slip up, and people make mistakes all the time, especially Baro, so I had no reason to be a about it.

Yes, it was an obscure, tiny slip up, compared to what happened a week later.

I was seated at the sofa, my eyes on my score sheets and my heart on the wall clock that hung ominously on the wall, like it was a time bomb, only I didn’t know when my doom would come.

I was suffering from an uncomfortable, sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, a combination of the quiet whir of the wall fan, the harsh white glare of the ceiling light, and worry. Lots and lots of worry.

Baro and Jin Young had gone to the composing studio after dinner, while the rest of us had returned to the dorms first. Jin Young came back a few hours later, announcing that Baro wanted to stay behind to finish a song, and went to shower before I could ask him any questions.

Eight pm had become eight thirty, and then nine, then ten, then eleven thirty, and he still wasn’t back.

Possibilities of what could’ve happened were spreading through my mind like wildfire, and the constant ache in my stomach was making me sick. I checked my phone for the nth time that night, hoping beyond hope that maybe, just maybe, a text message or phone call or something could have slipped my attention, but no, there was nothing.

My eyes flicked to the clock once more, and my grip on my cell tightened until my knuckles were white. Please let him be okay, I prayed silently, stomach twisting with anxiety, just please, let him come home soon-…

The door beeped, and my attention snapped back to the door at once. Someone was keying the code into our dorm. Was he…could he be back…?

The door swung open, and all the anxiety, all the worry was dampened under the enormous tidal wave of relief that washed over me.

Sun Woo.

He walked in, looking dead on his feet, eyes lidded and a cap pulled low over his head.

“Sun Woo, where were you, I was so worried!” I got off the sofa, my legs numb from the hours of tension, walking towards him to get an explanation, an apology, anything…anything but an impatient push away from him.

“Recording studio,” he replied shortly, continuing on his way. Even his voice sounded weary.

I was left, standing alone, holding a stack of crumpled lyric sheets I hadn’t glanced at all night, in the living room, watching the reason why I’d stayed up and worried myself to death walk away from me.

“Cha Sun Woo!” I called after him, not meaning for my voice to waver like it did, and I realised, with horror, that I was fighting back tears. I’d spent the entire evening waiting for him, I couldn’t focus on a thing, and he didn’t even try to explain himself. If he’d heard it, he didn’t turn around. “Sun Woo, what happened?”

“Nothing, just…” he rubbed at his eyes frustratedly. “Tonight was …it’s composing stuff, you wouldn’t understand…”

Then, he walked into the bathroom, letting the door slam shut behind him, leaving me to stand silently outside, my grasp crumpling the sheets in my hand.

I wouldn’t understand…

That couldn’t be right. Baro and I had always understood each other, even if we didn’t agree on things. We were on the same level. We went through the same things. We both faced the same difficulties and we triumphed them together.

But now…it wasn’t like that anymore. I’d seen it coming, but I’d pretended not to notice, too caught up in the bliss of the present to worry about the future I knew was inevitable.

Now, Baro was higher. Better. He was somewhere up there, beyond me, climbing faster than I ever could, and he was leaving me behind. We were doing different things. This wasn’t something I could help him with for anymore, because I didn’t understand.

But nothing could possibly have hurt more the night I was sitting on the sofa, laptop balanced on a cushion in front of me, phone tucked between my ear and my shoulder, skimming the movie ticketing websites in frustration. I’d managed to catch Baro for just a minute today, to arrange to sneak out for a movie that night. I was hoping that maybe, we just needed some more time together, doing something special, something fun, to return our friendship, or what was left of it now, to what it had been before.

So far, the ticketing sites were not on my side. I’d suggested watching Avengers, but tickets were sold out in every cinema in our vicinity. I’d then decided to call Baro, to change our itinerary, but he wasn’t picking up.

Finally, on my third call, on the fifth ring, he finally answered.

“Sun Woo?” I said. In the background, I could hear laughter, both male and female. It sounded like he was with a pretty big crowd.

“Yeah, what?” Sun Woo asked, a hint of impatience in his voice.

“Uhm,” I felt that uneasy twisting in my stomach once more, but braved on all the same. “You know, about our movie tonight?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, Avengers kind of sold out, so I-...”

“So let’s not go then.”

I paused for a moment, not sure if I’d heard correctly.

“What?”

“Let’s not go tonight then,” Baro said nonchalantly. “Besides, I don’t think I’m able to make it…the Dream Team cast wanted to go out for dinner, we’re going for a couple of drinks now…”

“Ah...okay, I see...” I said awkwardly, laptop still perched precariously on my knee, my mouse hanging tentatively over another movie’s timings.

Another loud round of laughter broke out, muffled over the phone, drowning out the sound of my heart thudding dully in my chest, processing what was happening.

“Jung Hwan?” Baro said again, and I swallowed to moisten my dry throat.

“Yes?”

“I’m actually kind of busy now...can we talk when I get back?”

But we never talk, even when we’re both at the dorm.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll see you-...”

I was cut off by the drawn out, mechanical beep of the other party hanging up.

The phone remained glued to my ear for a few seconds, before I lowered it, swallowing again, prepared to ignore whatever had happened. But I was tired of it. I was tired of trying to make excuses for his behaviour, tired of letting it pass, tired of trying over and over again to bring back something that was, perhaps, already long gone.

Hesitantly, I closed the laptop lid, before tucking the device under my arm, and heading for my room.

Like they say...if you love something, let it go.

That sentence echoed in my head long after I’d laid down in the bed that was suddenly much too big for just one person, trying to forget the person I’d lost my heart and soul to, and realising, with a pang, just how easy it would be to erase him from my life, because he had already done it himself.

My pillow was damp with tears when I woke up the next morning.

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Part 2 will be up soon <3

Sincerely
WhiteWings19