Chapter 2

Jinwoo was slumped against the walls of the practice room.

His head was swimming and the world seemed to flicker in and out of focus.

He had to keep practicing, Jinwoo thought. Just one more time. He needed to keep going.

But he didn’t have the strength to move anymore. His muscles were bunched up under his skin and his back throbbed. Jinwoo’s throat was dry and sweat ran down his skin in little rivers, making his shirt stick to his back uncomfortably.

Sliding down to the floor, Jinwoo felt his eyes drift shut. He couldn’t hear anything but the sound of his own ragged breathing and the thudding of his heart. The harsh light of the fluorescent lamps above him beat against his shut eyelids, demanding to be let in. Jinwoo hated that light. It had always seemed so dead, washing out everything around him so it seemed dreary and empty. He wished it would go away.

Opening his eyes slowly, Jinwoo took in the room around him, the four walls that made up his prison. Every day he would come here, pushing himself to his limits; going through swift dance steps over and over until he could do them in his sleep. Jinwoo thought that his voice seemed to be tinged with an edge of desperation when he sung these days.

Give me a chance, his voice seemed to beg. Let me be free.

Jinwoo had always felt trapped. Everywhere he went, Jinwoo thought felt something closing in all around him, smothering him, trapping him and pushing him down into the dark hole that was his mind. He despised the feeling. But he couldn’t escape it. Not in Imjado, not in Seoul not in this empty mirrored room.

Sometimes, Jinwoo thought it was his own skin that was suffocating him. And he wondered if he tore it off, the sensation would go away.

For months, Jinwoo had gone through the same routine. Getting up, eating, practicing, and sleeping. He couldn’t remember what life had been like before. And he couldn’t imagine an after. All the days seemed to melt into one another now, like wet paint spreading through paper.

But there was always the threat of elimination hanging in the air. The danger of being kicked out into the dirt for failing to meet the set standard. It hung about Jinwoo like a cloud, tailing him wherever he went, casting a dark shadow on whatever he saw. At night, he could feel it weighing down on him, its ominous presence taunting him.

Jinwoo didn’t sleep anymore.

He stayed up, night after night, telling himself to practice. Honing himself to as close to perfection as he could, fighting against the suffocating threat of elimination.

Jinwoo swore he wouldn’t give into this fear of not being good enough.

But it was difficult, and it got harder every day.

Jinwoo could feel his will fading and his was grip slipping.

Soon, he wouldn’t be able to get up again when he fell.

He wondered what will happen then.

*******

It was late when Jinwoo finally left the empty building that held practice rooms for the YG trainees. The night sky was littered with heavy, gray clouds and the moon was completely shrouded in them. Little patches of light from the street lamps, headlights of the occasional passing car and neon signs burned through the darkness, illuminating the street.

Jinwoo strode home quickly; carefully skirting the shadows that hid in every corner, hating the silent threat darkness seemed to pose. Drawing his hoodie tighter around himself, Jinwoo wished he didn’t have to go through this walk alone every night. He wished he were talented enough to leave every evening with the other trainees. But Jinwoo knew that what he lacked in pure talent, he could make up with hours and hours of never-ending practice.

And practice he did.

Especially with the monthly evaluations coming up.

Someone was going to leave soon, Jinwoo knew.

Someone left every month.

He hated himself for wishing it wouldn’t be him. Despising the fact that he would want his worst fear to be someone else’s reality. But all of them did that. It was in the eyes of the other trainees as they watched each other practice. It was in the unspoken words hanging in the air of their dorm.

Jinwoo knew there was a reason he was putting himself through this. He used to dream of this. Jinwoo was sure he used to desire it, with all his heart and soul.

If only he could remember why.

Jinwoo was jolted out of his thoughts by a pool of light spilling out from a 24 hour restaurant he passed on the way home. He blinked, peering inside curiously. Usually, the doors to this place were shut so light could only filter through the blinds over the windows. Jinwoo had never seen the entrance left so boldly open before.

At first glance, the restaurant seemed like any other. The same oily tables and squeaky chairs you usually found in diners. Menus were printed out on the walls and painfully cheerful décor was everywhere.

Then, Jinwoo noticed a boy with the apron tied around him sprawled out at a table. His heart leapt when he recognized who it was.

It’s the guitar player, Jinwoo thought.

Jinwoo saw him all the time, busking on the streets of Hongdae. He had only heard the boy sing once, but Jinwoo didn’t think he would ever forget it. The boy had the most amazing voice he had ever heard; so raw and heart wrenching it almost drove you to tears. Jinwoo had never heard a voice with so much power before. He knew when the boy sang, it was almost impossible not to listen. Curiosity had tortured him ever since the first day he heard the boy sing. Jinwoo wanted to know more about the guitarist, but he had always stopped himself. Something about the boy - maybe it was the easy way he held the guitar, almost like he was caressing it; maybe how he always seemed oblivious to the world around him when he sang - it made Jinwoo want to get closer.  The guitar player was a bright, burning flame and Jinwoo was a moth fluttering about him nervously, never daring to go any closer for fear he might get burned.

But now the boy here, just a few feet away. The same curiosity prickled in Jinwoo’s mind again, forcing him to step into the restaurant and putting words into his mouth.

“Hey,” a single word grated out of his throat. After hours of singing the same lines over and over again, Jinwoo’s throat was sore and it was almost painful to talk.

The boy looked up. Jinwoo saw his eyes widen under his cap. Clenching his fists nervously, Jinwoo forced himself to continue.

“I’m Kim Jinwoo. What’s your name?” Jinwoo’s eyes devoured the other boy’s face, committing his features to memory. Up close, Jinwoo could see that he was good-looking in a rugged sort of way as he took in the clear, fair skin, choppy black hair and shielded brown eyes. The boy was thin as a rake and Jinwoo could see that he was tall too. The cap and apron he wore labelled the boy as a waiter here but Jinwoo couldn’t see anyone else around.

“Kang Seung Yoon.” The boy’s answer was almost reluctant. Jinwoo didn’t blame him. It must be weird to have a random person introduce himself to you in the dead of the night. He wondered what did the boy see when he looked at Jinwoo: a gray hooded boy with tired eyes, maybe.

“You’re a YG trainee,” Seung Yoon continued. The boy, Seung Yoon, had a trace of awe in his voice. Jinwoo realized he had not been the only one watching another stranger closely. He smiled, looking at the ground. He sometimes forgot that being a YG trainee was something to be admired.

“Yeah, yeah, I am.” A half laugh, half sigh escaped Jinwoo’s lips. He looked at Kang Seung Yoon. “I guess you’ve seen me around, then?”

“You pass by me every day.” Seung Yoon told him. “At least, you used too.”

“Yeah, I’ve been staying late these days. Evaluations are coming up.”

Jinwoo was surprised at how easy it was to talk to this familiar stranger; his words slipped out easily, without even a second thought. The boy seemed to understand Jinwoo just by looking at him. He seemed to instinctively know what was Jinwoo going through, like he'd been there before.

“Do you want some ramen?” Seung Yoon gestured to a seat beside him. Jinwoo didn’t hesitate. He wasn’t eager to leave. Not yet.

Watching Seung Yoon cook the food, Jinwoo felt a weird sensation wash over him. Now, that he met Kang Seung Yoon face to face, he couldn't shake of the feeling that he recognized the boy from somewhere.

“Hey … do I know you?” Jinwoo asked. “I mean, before this. Have we met or something?”

Seung Yoon snorted.

“No.” was the short reply. Seung Yoon’s eyes were guarded and careful. But the feeling wouldn’t leave Jinwoo.

“I swear I’ve seen you before,” Jinwoo leaned forward looking at Seung Yoon intently. The boy met Jinwoo’s eyes for a while then relented. Jinwoo could see the boy dropping his guard. It was like the doors behind his eyes opened to reveal someone completely different from the composed guitarist standing there.

“Maybe on TV.” Seung Yoon told Jinwoo softly.

“TV …? Oh!” Jinwoo finally made the connection. Kang Seung Yoon, the guitar, the singing, Superstar K. “You’re the boy who sang Instinctively!!! You’re famous!” Seung Yoon snorted but Jinwoo saw the beginnings of a shy smile curl his lips.

“Yeah, I used to be at least.” Seung Yoon slid two hot bowls of ramen across the table and they dug in. Questions swirled in Jinwoo’s head.

Something wasn’t right with this picture, Jinwoo thought. This guy was a star, but here he was working nights at some cheap restaurant and busking in Hongdae during the day.

“What … what happened?” Jinwoo asked softly. The place was absolutely silent and Seung Yoon looked out the door, to the empty street. Disappointment, sadness, and anger rippled over Kang Seung Yoon’s features before they settled into a kind of blank tiredness. A single sigh rolled off his lips.

For a moment, Seung Yoon just looked at Jinwoo. Then, in quiet and careful words, the guitarist told his story:

He talked about the lonely city boy who never knew his father and was always so lost and angry. How his mother had been up to her neck in debt and he had joined the audition program to help her. After Superstar K, there had been a roll of promotions. Everything Seung Yoon made, he had given to his mother. But their debt wasn’t even half paid off yet and his mother was still working herself to the bone, trying to scrap together enough money to get through each month.

Jinwoo felt his heart ache for the younger boy. Behind his walls, Jinwoo thought that Seung Yoon seemed lost and detached from everything else around him. He was drifting.

“I couldn’t see her live like that anymore.” Seung Yoon told Jinwoo, his eyes dark.

There was a lot of pain in those eyes, Jinwoo thought.

So, Seung Yoon moved to Seoul permanently, hoping to make his big break here. Praying for a chance to finally help his mother. Hoping someone would see him as more than just the boy he finished fourth and give him a chance.

“You’re going around auditioning, then?” Jinwoo asked. They were both leaning against the table, looking out at the street. Their empty bowls had been pushed aside to a corner.

“Hmm?” Seung Yoon turned to look at Jinwoo. “Yeah, I do. No luck so far.”

“What about you?” Seung Yoon asked, nudging Jinwoo slightly. “What’s your story?”

“Nothing much to tell,” Jinwoo answered, but Seung Yoon was looking at him intently. He was just as curious about Jinwoo as latter had been about him. Biting his lip, Jinwoo forced out the words he kept bundled up in his chest, feeling the prickly ball of memory unravel within him.

Seung Yoon listened to every word Jinwoo said without even a change in expression. He didn’t raise his eyebrows as Jinwoo told him about how poor his family had been, how his father struggled, leaving them for months on end, working. How one dream made him push through it all, and fight to leave everything behind.

“When, I got on that ferry leaving for Seoul,” Jinwoo sighed, shaking his head. “I thought I was free. I mean, I was going to Seoul. But now that I’m really here …” He trailed off; trying to form the words he had been toying with in his mind for months.

“I can’t remember what I was chasing anymore.”

Seung Yoon nodded, eyes still on the street. “You wonder why you’re putting yourself through all this.”

Jinwoo felt his heart leap. He had never met anyone who understood. “Yeah,” he said shakily.

“Your family sounds nice,” Seung Yoon said quietly, watching Jinwoo. He smiled and looked away. Jinwoo’s throat hurt every time he thought about them, his mother and sister struggling through the days on the island. His father, spending so many months away that when he came back, it seemed like he was only visiting them. A stranger from the sea.

“You miss them, don’t you?” The guitarist’s simple words carried the weight of Jinwoo’s world. Nodding furiously, Jinwoo bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears in his eyes. But it was too late. They trickled down his cheeks, carving a salty path to his chin. Their salty-sweet taste filled Jinwoo’s mouth as he swiped the tears away angrily.

“Hey,” Seung Yoon wrapped an arm around Jinwoo, hesitantly. “It’s okay, hyung, let it out.”

And let it out Jinwoo did; the pain and frustration of the last couple of months finally escaping him. Pain burst in his stomach, spreading over his chest so it was hard for him to breathe. Seung Yoon held Jinwoo the whole time, his arm wrapped around the older boy in a half embrace.

“I’m tired,” Jinwoo told Seung Yoon between sobs. “Just so tired.”

The tears eventually subsided to an exhausted silence. Leaning against Seung Yoon, Jinwoo listening himself breathe, trying to calm down.

“I’m sorry,” he told the younger boy. “We only just met but I- I’m really sorry.”

Seung Yoon waved away Jinwoo’s apology. “You’ve only just met me, yes, but you already know more about me than anyone else ever did.”

Jinwoo managed a laugh.

“True,” he told Seung Yoon.

The words lapsed into silence and they sat comfortably there for a while.

“Hey,” Seung Yoon said finally. “We’ve talked about everything else but this,” he held up a black case. Jinwoo watched as Seung Yoon pulled the guitar out and held it against him, liking how Seung Yoon’s hands gripped the instrument almost intimately. He smiled when he heard the first chords the guitarist played, the familiar folk song it belonged to bringing back a thousand memories.

When they started singing, Jinwoo felt a thrill shoot through him. He hadn’t expected Seung Yoon’s rich voice to match his own soft one so well but it did. Palms tingling, he looked over at Seung Yoon and the boy smiled at him, the corner of his eyes crinkling. It was the first full smile Jinwoo saw the boy wear and he was surprised by how much he liked it. They finished the song together and Jinwoo felt his heart fill with something almost like happiness. It had been so long since he felt it that he had forgotten what it was like.

This was what he had been chasing; the elation and complete joy that music brought him.