Timelessly

iamforgotten

He peeks through the curtains, hands shaking in anxiety. He looks around, searches the house for that one face that haunts his dreams every night. He lingers on every face, as if he wouldn’t know her at a second’s glance. But it is in vain. And he only realizes this when his eyes fall upon the band leader, all decked up in a disguise that doesn’t fool Junsu at all. He also sees Jaejoong with Yoochun and Jiin, and a small smile tugs on the edges of his lips.

It is already his eleventh performance and his girlfriend has yet to show herself in the audience again – even disguised like Yunho, Junsu doesn’t mind because he would recognize her anyway.

The smile on his face turns into that of a frown as he abruptly pulls away. He ambles his way back to the dressing rooms before any of the stylists notice that he’s been wandering off for the past five minutes. And his day passes on just like the previous days of his performances at the island.

Only today, he felt an unbearable sense of desperation and longing in his heart. He sings his parts well, reaches the high notes almost effortlessly, and his body language always right and appropriate. The proof of his melancholy, however, is evident only where the audience cannot see. His eyes – and his fellow artists notice.

He takes his last bow for the day, the red curtains falling close, and just as everybody else is cheering and celebrating for another job-well-done, another successful show, Junsu’s heart breaks a little – just a tiny bit. He proceeds to his dressing room – to get out of his costume, everyone assumes – only nodding to everyone he passes. Junsu immediately closes the door behind him. Releasing a sigh, he sits on the couch, leans his head back, and closes his weary eyes.

On this day last year – he remembers – he was on a date. Donned in normal people’s clothes with a cap on his head and a pair of sunglasses covering half of his face, he was walking hand in hand with her. They decided to take a stroll of the city, a feat that was deemed impossible for someone of his stature. But they were able to do it. And his fans were gracious enough to let him have that day with her. It was almost like a dream come true for Junsu and, back then, he promised himself that he’d be damned if they never get to do that again.

Of course, that had been an early celebration because he had to head back to Japan the next day.

It seems, however, that Junsu remembers them agreeing that from then on they will be celebrating Valentine’s – slash – Red Day on the thirteenth. But like last year, it’s Junsu’s schedule that’s hindering them to be together – he can’t come to her.

Yes, this morning, he expected her to come. He assumed that she’d be surprising him in his dressing room with a bear hug and a deep passionate kiss – like she always bestows on him when they see each other. He imagined seeing her in the audience, too, eyes twinkling with pride and love for him.

It is official – three years, or so, ago – that Kim Junsu is whipped, completely and utterly in love with that tiny R&B singer from China, with the voice of an angel. She looks like an angel, too, Junsu muses. And she’s brought out the hopeless romantic in him, that one who’s ready to do anything and everything for love – for her.

Maybe that’s why he also started to expect.

Junsu hollers in frustration. If there’s anything wrong with this scene right here, it’s not his girlfriend’s absence. No, definitely not. It’s him and his thoughts.

He opens his eyes and glances at the wall clock. Seeing that it is half past ten in the evening, he wonders if she’s already sleeping or waiting for his call. Junsu decides to freshen up first and call her on his way back to the hotel. His flight back to Seoul isn’t until tomorrow morning anyway. He can keep her up all night and just bring breakfast over in the morning.

He stands from his seat and takes a step towards his vanity. He freezes when his eyes land on the white gift bag on the table. He doesn’t remember seeing such before going on-stage. Junsu takes the next couple of steps in a single stride, and grasps the sides of the gift bag to reveal its contents.

Inside he finds a box with a heart-printed ribbon. Lifting the lid, he is surprised to see his name, written in three different languages. He takes one and realizes that they’re chocolates.

A smile quickly spreads on his face. And it dawns unto him.

Zhang Liyin is there.

Junsu runs back out, hastening towards one of the security personnel.

“Ajusshi, ajusshi,” he pants, getting more attention than he needed. “Did you see a girl going into the dressing room?”

The man looks at him incredulously, as if thinking that he’s gone insane. “Many girls go in and out of the dressing rooms, young man!”

“I know, ah. But aside from the stylists and actresses, was there anyone else?” he pauses, hesitating if he should be mentioning her name here and risking exposure of their relationship. “Jang Riin, sir. Was she here?”

The older man his head to the side in concentration. “Jang Riin? Oh! Is she the short girl with long, brown, wavy hair, and big doe-eyes?”

Junsu nods. “Yes! Yes, that’s her! She has milky white skin, too. You saw her?”

“Ah, yeah. But she came in hurriedly and breezed out again just after a few minutes. She was accompanied by your manager.”

That has Junsu running back to his designated dressing room – but not without a grateful bow to the older man – to retrieve his mobile phone. He dials the number of their manager before pressing the device to his ear. “Hyung!” he exclaims as soon as the other line picked up. “Riinie, where is she?”

“She went back to Seoul. She had to go back for a meeting with the heads. Her manager called me to bring her back,” the manager stated. “Are you done yet? Let’s go back to the hotel. You have an early flight in the morning.”

The other hangs up before Junsu can put in another word. This action signifies one thing: Junsu has no more say in the matter. What’s done is already done and there’s nothing he can do about it.

The young singer accepts defeat – just this once – and looks for his stylist noona. He asks for the wig to be taken off so he can proceed with changing his clothes and whatnot. It is as this time that he finally feels exhaustion coursing through his veins. He can’t wait to get on the phone again, this time preferably with his beloved on the other line.

Hell, he can’t wait to get back to the city and her side at all.

As he sits in front of the mirror, the stylist busy on her task, Junsu takes the gift bag once again and resumes observing the contents. He notices, for the first time, the other wrapped package at the bottom. He replaces it with the box of chocolates – which he refuses to show anyone because, he muses, it’s solely for his enjoyment. He examines the red tissue paper wrapping and the matching heart-printed ribbon. He slips the ribbon off before unwrapping the gift – carefully, albeit excitedly.

Inside is a black wooden frame that encases a photograph that Junsu didn’t know was taken. He recognizes his form beside hers even though their bodies were turned the other way. In the photograph, he is looking far ahead, head straight towards the vast ocean and horizon. Liyin, however, is observing him with a small – yet visible – smile on her lips. Her head is titled slightly to the right, her one hand on top of her wide-brimmed straw hat, making sure that it doesn’t fly off with the breeze, just like the white off-shouldered sundress she is wearing, as well as her long silky locks. Her left hand is comfortably nestle in the warmth of the man standing close beside her.

And Junsu’s heart flitters a little.

The stylist giggles behind him and he smiles a bit wider.

“There’s a note at the back if you haven’t noticed it, Junsu- sshi.”

With an Oh! , Junsu flips the frame – picture and all – over and, just as the stylist has stated, he finds Liyin’s note stuck to it.