Chapter 1

Applause.

That was the first thing that Seung Yoon would remember.

Thunderous applause, people clapping until their hands hurt. Some of them had been shaking their heads, looking disappointed. It wasn’t right; their faces seemed to tell him. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The four judges in the front had identical looks of shock on their faces too. Their expressions told him the same thing.

But what good did it do?

What they thought couldn’t change anything, Seung Yoon wanted to tell them as he took in rows and rows of people, all with different expressions that all seemed to say the same thing.

The outcome had been decided.

His dreams were crushed.

Seung Yoon stood there, in the midst of the applause, surrounded by people who didn’t know him but thought they did; accepting the fact that everything he worked for was now being washed down the drain.

He didn’t go home to Busan.

Seung Yoon didn’t think that he could bring himself to. It wasn’t all the people there that awaited him, half who would shower him with adoration and the others who would whisper about how he had wasted his time. After all, no one ever remembered whoever finished fourth.

It wasn’t all that.

It was his empty house, with the lone figure of his mother sitting at the table surrounded by the echoes of a thousand arguments and another thousand angry silences. Maybe she would have a dark bottle in her hand. Maybe she would raise the bottle to her lips and toss her head back as she reluctantly let her eyes trail down the bill in her hand.

That was what Seung Yoon couldn’t face.

He couldn’t bear to see her; the one he had failed so spectacularly, with thousands of people watching.

His mother had begged. Oh, how had she begged.

But he wouldn’t listen.

It wasn’t the first time he ignored her pleas.

Seung Yoon breathed in the heavy air of Seoul, fresh but laced with the smell of smoke and too many people. The streets were busy as usual and no one paid any attention to the boy with the cocked hat and guitar slung over his back. He was just another musician, invisible against the pulsing crowd. He wasjust another boy, out of the countless that passed through Hongdae. He was no one.

But at the same time, some people lingered when they saw his face. The shadow of recognition glimmered in the eyes of those who managed to get a good look at Seung Yoon. He wasn’t surprised. In fact, Seung Yoon was even used to it. After the competition ended, he still was on TV a lot. Advertisements, concerts and photo shoots. All part of the deal. But he was never in the spotlight. Any one of these pedestrians would have recognized John Park on the spot. But Seung Yoon was the other guy. The one that didn’t really matter.

Seung Yoon sighed, setting up his usual spot. Give them a month or two, they’ll all forget about him anyway.

Kicking his guitar case open, Seung Yoon slumped down on the box that served as his seat these days. Resting his guitar on his knee, Seung Yoon started picking out chords softly. Still no one in the street turned to look at him.

Striking the strings in one swift motion, Seung Yoon began to sing. His voice rose above the echo of hundreds of people wrapped in the clouds of their lives, ringing in their ears, forcing them to look. He could feel their eyes on him as they rushed by, urgently chasing time, trying to finish some important errand that didn’t really mean anything. Seung Yoon knew they were looking at him. Closing his eyes, he raised his face to the sky, letting the wind caress him with its brittle fingers. They were looking at him.

The dirty yellow rays of the setting sun pushed through the stubborn clouds until the city was swimming in its fading light. It was getting late and Seung Yoon needed to leave now or he’d be late for his job. Packing up his guitar, he scooped up the money random passersby had left in his case. There was more than usual today; more than usual but still not enough.

Seung Yoon lingered at the street corner although his guitar was already slung across his back. He watched the end of the street eagerly, waiting. It happened every night, Seung Yoon knew. Anytime now.

‘There!’ Seung Yoon thought. He tightened the grip his fingers had on his guitar, watching four boys emerge from a nondescript building and walk towards him.

YG trainees, Seung Yoon thought. On their way to dinner.

They certainly had an aura of differentness about them. The air around them seemed thicker, murkier and anyone who looked at them seem to see a mirage. They were strange, different, and special.

But also temporary.

Seung Yoon’s eyes seeked out one of them in particular. A boy, slightly shorter than the rest, with clear eyes and beautiful skin. This boy walked near the back of the group, his head bowed and shoulders slumped, hair falling into his face. There would always be a frown on his face, only a slight one but one a face like that even a slight one was noticeable.

For some reason, he was the one that grabbed Seung Yoon’s attention. Not the ones with the brightly dyed hair or loud voices, calling out to one another as they walked down the street, night after night. It was always that one boy.

Tonight he seemed quieter than usual, Seung Yoon thought. Merely nodding his head when his companions talked to him, keeping his eyes trained on the ground.

The boys were almost level with Seung Yoon now. They were just about to pass him when the last boy stopped and murmured something to the rest. They nodded and continued, leaving the other boy alone. Seung Yoon ducked his head as they walked by him.

Looking up, Seung Yoon saw that the boy was still there watching his friends leave. Seung Yoon studied his face, trying to decipher what the boy was feeling. He looked … wistful. Wistful and sad. Like he was missing something he had or was wishing for something he didn’t. Or both. It was perplexing.

Just then, the boy seemed to sense Seung Yoon’s probing gaze and turned slightly to meet his eyes. Surprised, Seung Yoon stood absolutely still. It was the same reaction he would have had if he encountered a frightened animal; trying to convey through the absolute stillness of his body that he meant it no harm; he just wanted to watch.

The boy looked at Seung Yoon for a while. Up close, he was even more beautiful than Seung Yoon had realized. The sun had completely set now and in the half light of dusk Seung Yoon could see that the boy had delicate features, deer-like eyes and full lips that seem to naturally curve into a slight smile. Seung Yoon wished he could see more but the last light of day was quickly disappearing and shadows were getting bolder, creeping out of their corners.

Seung Yoon watched as the boy smiled, nodding his head at him. Turning, the boy walked back the way he came. Seung Yoon’s eyes followed him until he disappeared into the gray building at the end of the street.

Sighing, Seung Yoon shouldered his guitar case and made his way to the restaurant where he worked every night.

Maybe he would see the boy tomorrow.