13. Opening Up

The door cracks as I open it and I look in front, hopefully looking for Lay. I see him looking over the city from the fence, with his hands in his skinny jeans pockets. He doesn’t look back, so I presume he hasn’t heard me arriving yet.

I close the door and slowly walk towards him, feeling nervous as ever. The only sounds feeling our ears are the light breeze, and the distant horns and noisy cars down the streets.

I clear my throat to warn him that I arrived already and stand a few meters from him, while I anxiously play with my fingers.

He turns around quickly, as he hears me and his eyes widen. “C-cho Hee you’re here,” he shows a shy grin as he stutters a bit, when seeing me.

I just smile not knowing what to say. I look for something to reply and just remember to apologize for the late arrival.

“I’m sorry for arriving almost ten minutes later. I had some … problems before coming here,” I try to explain not wanting to reveal the reason behind my unprofessional attitude.

“Problems? But it’s everything fine?” Lay asks in a slightly concerned way.

“Oh! Yeah everything’s fine. Don’t worry,” I beam once again.

“That’s great then,” Lay timidly smiles and scratches the back of his neck, not knowing what to say or do next.

I nod and feel the awkward atmosphere coming to us. I gulp and look around, trying to find a matter to start a conversation with. Lay, however, takes that task instead.

“Your dress … is pretty. It suits you very well,” he compliments me.

I slightly blush at the comment and try to hide my face, so he doesn’t see me going pink. “Thanks. It’s the first time I’m using it,”

“I think it was a great choice to use it for this date,” Lay grins and compliments once again.

“Was it? I guess so …” my eyes don’t stop quiet for a minute and I try to look everywhere except him. As I look around, something catches my attention. A white and attention-grabbing object is on the bench and I walk up to it, to examine better. “Is it yours?” I look at it without touching. I won’t touch it as it isn’t mine.

“Yes, it is,” Lay answers and approaches me. He grabs the white guitar, which is turned down and holds it in his hands for me to see it.

The guitar has some stickers on it. They’re logos of famous brands, some that I don’t even know. There are some words written on it too, but I don’t take the time to carefully read everything and just look at it in general. The guitar is beautiful in itself. The white seems to fit it more than the actual wooden color guitars normally have.

For me, musical instruments have always been fascinating, though I’ve never had that little bug, calling me to learn to play anything. So, I never learned to play a musical instrument.

“It’s beautiful,” I say as I contemplate the guitar in Lay’s hands.

“Thank you. It was a gift from my grandmother. She had always liked listening music and I would always play on my grandfather’s guitar for her. So, one day she gave me this one and I promised her I would never stop playing the guitar, so she could always listen to my notes, even in heaven,” Lay shares the little sad story behind that white guitar.

I feel pitiful but I don’t want to see him sad, so I just smile in sympathy and question “Could you play a song?”

Lay turns to me and a glitter appears instantly on his eyes. He nods and sits in the bench, putting the guitar in his lap as he thinks of a song to play. I follow him and sit next to him, waiting peacefully yet curious to hear him touch in the guitar strings.

Without a word he starts playing. The start is slow and enchanting, something that can make people fall asleep, if they close their eyes to hear the sounds.

The notes are clear and I feel the passion as he plays them.

Only a few chords have been touched yet and suddenly, he starts singing along the melody.

“Neol cheoeum bon sungan kkumin geot gatasseo, Cheonsa cheoreom yeppeun ni miso ttaemune, Geureon niga naye sarangi dwemyeon eotteolkka, S