Disquiet. It was everywhere. In her mind, in the quiver of her footsteps, in the crooks and notches of her skin, there was disquiet. It came in the package of a memory: a man with smiles in the dark and wildness in his eyes. It came in the package of a small brown envelope emblazoned with the crest of her youth.

The Night of Music, it says, is one of the many legends recorded in Myungyeon High which dated back to the pioneer years of the school. The legend has that every year, on a spring night unknown to us, music is heard playing in the grounds.

In lieu of Myungyeon High’s 150th anniversary, we hereby invite you to relive this legend and celebrate the school’s successes with a night of music and dance.

Suzy came to her again that day, bearing the same artfulness that she always seem to carry around. Suzy was all diplomacy and poise, one who was used to first class honours and many professional handshakes. But seeing her for so many times already, Jiyeon could see an undercurrent of excitement under her professional grace, a sliver of personality under the bland corporate exterior.

Jiyeon was in the pantry when there was a knock and Suzy’s head unexpectedly popped in.

“Hi,” she said. “Your friend told me you were here.”

Jiyeon, startled at the unexpected company, leapt from her seat where she was checking her log and rushed towards the woman who was by the doorframe.

“Am I welcome to be in here?” Suzy was half anticipation, half uncertain as she stood at the threshold of the door, watching as Jiyeon picked up her whiteboard and marker and ushered her in.

Hold on, I’ll get you some coffee. Jiyeon wrote as Suzy sat down in the little space Jiyeon had cleared for her. Jiyeon disappeared from the room and reappeared again with two steaming mugs of coffee.

“It’s a cozy room you have back here,” Suzy said, her voice light as her eyes roamed around the room.

Jiyeon smiled as she took a seat opposite of Suzy, gratified.

“I’m really sorry for disturbing you,” Suzy said, “I realized I do come here quite often for a chat.”

Oh no, it’s really okay. Jiyeon wrote. She really did not mind the company of the woman, found that she found her kind smiles comfortable. She was confident without being condescending, cordial without being superficial. There was an air of certainty about her. It came from holding her thoughts and only speaking when she was sure that it was the thing that she wanted to say.

Suzy propped her elbows on the table, rested her chin on her palm, fingers curled against her lips. She was eager, torso bent forward and eyes lighting up as she looked at Jiyeon. Jiyeon gave her an expression that could only mean, why?

“Hmm,” Suzy started, “I was wondering.”

What is it?

“Did you receive an invitation from your high school?”

The 150th anniversary night?, Jiyeon wrote.

Suzy nodded, “So you received it? I got it too.”

Are you going?

“I was going to ask you the same question,” Suzy laughed, “I’m going. Are you going?”

There was a curious expression on Suzy’s face that Jiyeon did not expect. Here, in this quiet backroom Suzy was a living, writhing thing. She was barely containing her anticipation, her eyes b with light. Was it hopefulness that Jiyeon saw in those eyes? Was she looking forward to Jiyeon saying yes?

I don’t know, should I? Jiyeon wrote.

“Come on, think about it. It’s been a while since you saw the school, the teachers, and who knows who would be there?” Suzy’s voice was distant as she said this, her eyes far away. It made Jiyeon wonder who Suzy was back then, who she was friends with. Where are her friends now? Did she lose contact with them like how Jiyeon did? Did her high school friendships survive the strain of time or did she only look back to those times and wonder what kind of people they were now that no one talked to each other anymore?

Jiyeon did not know about Suzy’s life, but there was nothing waiting for her back in high school. No friends, no teachers, no warm memories. The only people that she would like to see were now too far from her reach, unrecognizable beyond their years. She was invisible then, now unremembered. It was a sad thought, and thinking about it filled her with so much irrational longing. A feeling of wanting something so very badly yet knowing that she could not have it. She would just be scouring at golden memories and recollections of better times. Going back would just be that: a reminder of the lost. Why would she go back?

“Think about it. Will the classrooms look the same? Remember the cafeteria benches that used to break all the time? And the unused fourth floor toilet that they always said was haunted? Do people still go there? Remember the missing door handles of the teacher’s office who would even steal that? Remember?”

Remember the courtyard? Jiyeon thought. Remember the fountain that sprawls beside the clock tower that only chimes in the evening? Remember the little alcove that lead into the darkness? Remember the mass of golden spinning gears lit by a single candle flame? Remember music in the dark? Wordless conversations behind the smiles?

“They’re calling it The Night of Music. It’ll be so interesting. I wonder if the legend was actually true…”

“Jiyeon.” Suzy turned to Jiyeon, her wistfulness disappearing, “Come on, we’ll go together. Me and you, with the boys.”

Jiyeon was not sure what she meant by the boys. She was not sure she wanted to know what she meant by the boys. There was such familiarity there, such ownership in the way she mentioned it. As if the boys were hers, as if they knew each other inside out and were comfortable with that.

“You know, we’ll ask everyone to come. Sungyeol would come, even though he was never part of the picture. We’ll ask Sunggyu,” she leaned forward and her voice dropping into a whisper, “we’re even trying to get Myungsoo to come.”

Jiyeon did not know what Suzy meant for her to feel. But at that moment, she only felt the exclusiveness of the whole situation. There was never a moment where she had felt so intensely that she was not part of Myungsoo’s life. What happened there, when she was once the only person whom he talked to so freely and now she needed a middle person to just have the excuse of seeing him? What happened there, when she once did not need any reason to call him out and spend time with him and now she could only look from the outside while people she did not know revolve around him, talking to him like she once would have. What happened there?

She was now looking at Suzy, at the person who needed no excuse to talk to Myungsoo, to convince him to go back to his old high school. She knew that Suzy meant well, but she could not help but feel hatred for her. Raw, unadulterated hatred that manifested from an irrational jealousy. But Suzy’s smile was so earnest, her effort so genuine that Jiyeon only felt shameful of her thoughts.

I’ll think about it, Jiyeon wrote.

Suzy left soon after. But her thoughts never did.

--------

There was something in the air. Not quite tension, not quite calm either. Something that Sungyeol could not quite place a finger on. Anticipation? Fear?

In his hands, Sungyeol clasped a brown envelope emblazoned with the crest of Myungyeon High School. It was a thin envelope, with only a single piece of paper in its contents. He had seen the same envelope in Suzy’s hands and read the invitation in it to attend the school’s 150th anniversary. It was a simple invitation, really. But now, hovering in front of the large doors of Myungsoo’s office, the envelope suddenly felt like a dead weight between his fingers, heavy with expectations.

Sungyeol did not know how Myungsoo would react if he urged him to go to the event, knowing well enough that it was exactly the type of thing that Myungsoo would not do. Realistically, Sungyeol mused, at best, Myungsoo would give him a pointed stare and expect Sungyeol to be off with it. At worst, Myungsoo would still give him a pointed stare. But it would be accompanied with a whole different meaning. One of judgement and incredulity and that was what irked Sungyeol the most. To have Myungsoo think that he did not know him well enough.

Sungyeol knocked the door and opened it. Myungsoo’s head remained bowed upon his desk and did not shoot upwards as it did during the first few weeks he had been in this office and Sungyeol thought that that must have been because Myungsoo could recognize his knock and footsteps now as he had not before. This thought, oddly, had brought a twinge in his chest, which Sungyeol immediately dismissed.

“Myungsoo,” Sungyeol said as he laid the piece of envelope on his desk. Myungsoo took one glance at the envelope, recognize the emblem and looked up questioningly.

“I would suggest that you open it now, yes.” Sungyeol said as Myungsoo continued to stare at him. “And I will stay here until you open it, be assured.” Myungsoo held his gaze for one more moment. Then, he moved, opening the seal in one fluid movement and extricating the piece of paper out.

There was a heavy stillness in the air as Sungyeol watch Myungsoo’s eyes graze over the paper and recognize its meaning. It was an atmosphere that Sungyeol did not expect, an atmosphere laden with loss and emptiness. In the ensuing silence, Sungyeol saw a curious expression flitting across his friend's face, as if he was considering.

“The reason why I didn't chuck it into the bin is,” Sungyeol explained, “is because I hope you will go back there, to your old high school.” There was a tentative pause, and Sungyeol was sure that the both of them knew the implications that was hanging in their silence. But Sungyeol continued in a softer voice, “Because maybe, it can help you remember.”

Sungyeol expected Myungsoo to be angry that he had voiced this so blatantly in his office. This topic was so new to be discussed between them that he did not know how to tread its waters. Myungsoo remained silent, one that stretched so long that Sungyeol was sure that he was not going to answer.

“You may leave.” He said. Sungyeol wanted to take offence at this dismissal, at the rejection of such a well meant gesture. But Myungsoo’s voice was uncharacteristically hoarse, soft in its whisper. There was sadness there, and longing that he could not place. The air felt heavy with all the unsaid thoughts, unspoken words. There is no solidarity here, only the thickness of silence and the unmistakable hush of caution.

When Sungyeol retreated from the room, he did not look back at the lonely figure, crouched, silent and still against the desk.

------------

Sunday came: a cold quiet morning nestled in grey slumber. Myungsoo was already out in the streets, hefting with him a bag of groceries that would last him for another week. He was still far from the blocks of his apartment when little droplets of rain started falling, slowly and then heavily. Myungsoo rushed to the cover of the shopfronts and stood there watching as raindrops pelted down the roofs and onto the empty streets. His hair was already soaked, his feet cold from the dampness of his shoes.

“Fancy meeting you here.” A voice drawled, their words a little surprised but unassuming. Myungsoo turned to see Sunggyu, his cousin, sprawled on the chair in front of the small cafe he was taking shelter from. A steaming mug of coffee was laid on the table, along with a book and a pen. Sunggyu’s hand was clasped on his stomach as he took Myungsoo in, damp hair and all, a ghost of a smile playing at his face, as if it was in some other time, where Myungsoo would have greeted him with familiarity.

When Myungsoo did not answer, Sunggyu shifted in his seat, but his eyes never left him. “You know, I never thought i would see you in casual clothing. After seeing you stuffed up in that suit every day.”

Myungsoo was silent, he was neither one for meaningless conversations nor was he ever approached for one. But Sunggyu was not waiting for him to answer. His eyes were perceptive, as if he was considering something just out of sight.

“Take a seat, man,” Sunggyu said, nodding to the vacant chair in front of him, “the rain’s going to take a while.”

Myungsoo considered this unexpected company, of rain and coffee and someone else on a Sunday morning and thought, as uncomfortable as that sounded, absurd even, he did not mind it that day. So he put his bags down and accepted the invitation.

They were silent. Sunggyu resumed his work, sketching the skyline in front of him and Myungsoo watched as he breathed life into the blank. Circles, scratches and lines woven into buildings, birds, shadows and light. A waiter came and took his order. Came again with another pair of steaming mugs. The winds rustled its quiet chants, rain continued pelting down in rhythmic chimes. Puddles formed between his shoes, mist coalesced in the streets, light bent around the shadows, making it seem like something from a dream.

Distantly, he thought about sunlit afternoons, of falling asleep to the wind on his face, sunlight making red marks behind his eyelids, the monotone of a teacher’s voice in the background. Sunggyu with his windswept hair beside him, his hands fluttering, pen in constant motion, circles lined through numerous times.

“Pen ran out of ink,” Sunggyu huffed, bringing him back to the present. He did not think that his mind would run that far. Absently, he scoured his back pocket for a pen and passed it to Sunggyu. “Thanks.”

“You, always do this don’t you?” Myungsoo asked. Sunggyu looked up in surprise. “Sketching.”

“Yeah…” Sunggyu nodded, “Yeah, in the past, I did. I always did.”

Sunggyu look at Myungsoo for a moment and turned away, his eyes appraising the clouded street, his mind further than that. He rolled the pen between his fingers.

“Do you,” he said as he looked back to Myungsoo, “do you remember?”

There was caution in his voice as he said this. A man holding so much back. Or a man who was trying to keep something from him?

“It just came to me just now.”

Sunggyu nodded, looking down on his sketchpad. “Do you want me to tell you what you were like back then?”

Would it matter, now that he could not remember? Now that he could no longer attach another person’s impression to his own memories? He lost count of the number of times his mother told him that he was the pride of the family, that he was a person of morals and determination. Those words felt detached, like it was not his. “Were we close?”

Sunggyu looked at him. “You were cold,” he said. Myungsoo imagined that he would never had to hear someone else talk about another version of him, a distant, different person that he had no attachment to but had to believe that it was him. “You kept everything to yourself, you don’t talk much. Even when you were little everyone would think that you didn’t care about much.

“But you kept your passions so close to yourself no one could see it. You were competitive, a bit too pretentious for your own good. You always worked hard even if you don’t let people see. You only cared about a few but you cared deeply.

“You were not emotionless, you were just subtle. It was always in your eyes, in your gait as you walked, in the arrangement of your features. Not everyone can see it. It was like you made a trade with the world. You kept to your business so you expected them to go about their own.”

It was silent after that. Myungsoo did not want to trust the man, he did not want to take his words earnestly as he did. He wanted to hate the man for knowing his past more than he could even remember.

When Myungsoo looked once more to Sunggyu, he was absorbed again in his work. There was no expectation for him to reply then, and Myungsoo quite liked it. Sunggyu had never expected any answer from him. The silence stretched, but it felt oddly different, like there was something shared between them. He realised that he had never shared silence with another, had never truly felt what it meant to have company. It was a nice feeling, this wordlessness, this absence of expectation, the knowledge that another person was there at the other end of the silence.

He wondered what Sunggyu saw when he looked at Myungsoo. Were they brothers before all of this madness ensued? Did they grow up together as children? Did Sunggyu look at him now and see all the missing pieces of Myungsoo, all the frayed ends of their friendship? Was that why this person, who in another life would have been a brother to Myungsoo, disappeared for the nine years? Because he was drunk in his own disappointment of what became of them? But Myungsoo remembered being angry at the boy, not at the man in front of him but at the boy he used to be. Was this one of the fleeting non-important detail of his past or was it something that could have concluded as a fallout.

Sunggyu huffed again, “Your pen is out of ink, cousin.” He said as he set the pen down, his fingers tapping on the paper. Then, he smiled at his paper, a smile ladened with a distant thought, an aching loss. “You know, your pens always run out of ink back then. I once bought you a whole box for your birthday.”

“You know, you were so popular with the girls back in high school, I still can’t figure out why,” Sunggyu continued, he never seem to stop talking when he’s not working, “you used to receive a bag load of gifts from your fangirls but you never cared about them and gave them to me, you cold hearted .” He looked at Myungsoo suddenly at this use of familiar profanity, as if he did not deserve to use it.

“Well,” he shrugged and looked away when Myungsoo did not reply, “at least I got a steady influx of gifts every year.”

Myungsoo had expected the blank. But it did not matter because he had swirled the words into memories that he could call his own despite that he had not remembered it nor had it came from the iron-clad box of memories that would not share its secrets with him.

Sunggyu looked to the sky, at the steady downpour that was now ceasing. Soon, Myungsoo will get up and leave and they will continue with their lives as if nothing happened. The rain is our hourglass, Myungsoo thought. It was the only excuse of this unceremonious conversation between the two lost friends. Its end would mean the end of their meeting, of scraping whatever was left between them.

“I’m moving in here tomorrow,” Sunggyu said, nodding to the building in front of them. Myungsoo did not know if he knew that Myungsoo lived in this neighbourhood. “I’m staying in this country this time. Enough travelling for me. Time to settle down.”

Myungsoo was suddenly curious about Sunggyu, where he had been all these years, what he was doing. But the words did not form in his mouth and his voice left him. So he remained silent.

Sunggyu’s voice dropped, his eyes scouring, “What about you, Myungsoo?” He asked softly. The way he said it was almost imploring, as if he really wanted Myungsoo to tell him what had been going on in his life that he was now not a part of it. Myungsoo identified with that feeling, but what it is that he was supposed to say for himself? That he had been scouring, grappling at memories that he could not seem to grasp? That even after all this time, even after nine whole years, he still did not have a clue about who he was, who he was friends with, what he cared about?

Sunggyu’s searching eyes seemed to close and he nodded. Myungsoo wondered if Sunggyu cared that this conversation was heavily one sided. “We're not going to be young forever, Myungsoo,” Sunggyu said, and as he said this, he sounded so drained, incredibly tired, as if life had drained everything out of this man, “I think Jiyeon is still waiting for you.”

Myungsoo’s ears perked at the name. The girl perched on the chair on the hospital, the person his eyes caught in the midst of his dreams and reality. The girl of his past. That was the only clue he had of the past. He guessed the reason why no one could tell him about the basis of their relationship was because no one really knew.

The rain was almost stopping now, sending last bits of droplets to the ground. Sunlight was already filtering through the clouds. The walls were now sun bathed, the windows glaring with light.

Time was up.

There was nothing else to say, really. Myungsoo was not one for parting words. So he stood, the silence that stretched between them was almost as evident as the absence of camaraderie between these two men of late. As Myungsoo picked up his bag, the only thing he noticed was the two pens laid artlessly next to each other, his on top of the paper and Sunggyu’s on the table, both now useless. Sunggyu’s fingers were curled on the edges of the paper.

As Myungsoo started to walk away, Sunggyu’s voice called him, “Myungsoo.”

For some reason, Myungsoo had always recognized Sunggyu by the jovial gait behind his careless exterior. Now that summer boy was diminished. The voice that called out to him was unsure, soft. So uncharacteristic of how he thought Sunggyu was.  

“When you get your memory back, I want you to know that I am still sorry for what I did.”

Myungsoo walked away, angry that Sunggyu could not just spill whatever it was that he did.

-------------

Myungsoo was out of Sunggyu’s line of sight. He was already on the street of his apartment block, close to the entrance of the building.

That was when he saw her.

There was no one in the street other than this lone figure making its way slowly down the sun drenched lane. He guessed that was the reason why she stood out so much but even then, he knew in his bones that it was because she was familiar to him. He must have not need to see her face to recognise her, he thought. He must have just needed one glance at her to recognise the swish of her hair, the outline of her figure, the style of her gait and he could tell her apart by one glance. Imagining that kind of relationship between two people is so inconceivable that he could not have been involved in one, could he?

The girl named Jiyeon continued walking in his direction, her head slightly inclined as she neared, questioning. It was then that he realised that he had stopped in his tracks. There was no going back now, since both of them had noticed each other.

He soon realised the gravity of the situation. Here he was, uncertain and uninformed of this elusive past that involved her. What could he really say?

For a moment, he wanted to choose the coward's way out and continue walking into his building, but then would he, when life just suddenly threw in the two of them together on the same street? His heart was beating so fast for reasons he could not justify, so loud they were pumping in his ears.

When she stopped in his earshot, he blanked.

“Jiyeon, right?” He could hear the tremor in his own voice, of nine unkempt years of questioning and more questioning; of unknowing and prying; of wondering to know avail and then finally seeing her but still uncertain, still unable to recognise her nor himself. Could she hear it too?

She nodded.

Jiyeon. He liked how the name matched her face, how the sound of it rolled off his tongue in waves of curiosity and wonder. He liked how her eyes widen a little, just by a fraction, when the sound lands on her ears and registers in her face. He likes how the name, like how it was etched on the back of the necklace was now etched onto another person, as if after years of wandering it had finally found its home. And home lie in this person in front of him.

He wanted to remember. He wanted to remember what the song that played in the endless hours of his mind meant, what it was like when it was not half of a whole. He wanted to remember what it was like to feel the rush of youth in his veins, how it was like to revolve around his passions like how the sun drew its planets close, how it was like to love something so much it seemed like nothing could hold you back. He wanted to remember what it would feel to look at her face and not meet a blank wall of unfamiliarity. He wanted to remember to her.

“Do you--” his voice sounded hoarse to his own years, scratchy from lack of use. “Are you going back to high school next week?”

The question made her consider, a line forming between her brows, a gentle frown falling on her lips. Then slowly she nodded. Myungsoo did not even think of smiling, but he was almost sure that he did. Just then.

“I’ll see you there, then.”

A/N: Yeeeeee chapter 27 is up!! I cannot believe this story is almost ending (in 2 chapters ><) after seeing it being stagnant for quite a long while. I spent quite a long time writing this particular one I was trying to capture the frayed ends of Sunggyu and Myungsoo's relationship it's heartbreaking my heart wants to cry for both of them. Idk what do you think? Do comment they make my day!! And I do read comments (thanks for commenting really they lift my spirits to write more), and new subscribers hello there!! I hope this chapter is up to your expectations (i had to wreck my brain quite a bit for this one ><) anyways, hope yall have a nice day!!

With love,

Faith