21 September 2013

Kyuhyun arrived at the apartment – if you could even call it that – sometime past midnight. His eyes wandered around the high-class living environment, suddenly feeling incredibly small. G-Dragon was only a few years older than both of them and yet he had supported his career to this point? And Kyuhyun had a very strong feeling that the apartment was just one facet of wealth.

For Korea’s greatest idol to have one high-end apartment and nothing else was preposterous. Kyuhyun mused that there was probably a warehouse just for G-Dragon’s clothing and accessories.

Henry met him at the door, letting him in with natural ease. The boy was perfectly comfortable, walking around in his baggy black sweats and an oversized shirt. His hair was slightly messy and his feet were bare. Aside from the headphones around his neck, anyone could’ve mistaken Henry for the average high school student.

“You’re Cho Kyuhyun?”

He stiffened immediately. Turning slightly, he saw Jiyoung ambling toward him with slow and easy grace. He was dressed rather plainly, surprising Kyuhyun. However, he managed to drop his head, bowing ninety-degrees to the star. He rattled off greetings to G-Dragon in the most polite Korean he knew, not lifting his head until the idol started chuckling and calling him cute.

Blushing, Kyuhyun peeked up to see Jiyoung leaning against the wall, arms over his chest. “The SME music department has been going on and on about your voice. They’ve been saying that it’s a waste that you’re a law student,” he remarked mildly, voice low and slurred. It wasn’t the same sort of fumbling as a drunk; rather it seemed purposeful and smooth. “The professors are really frustrated.”

“I’m sorry,” he stuttered, “I…uhm, I don’t know what I would do with singing.”

“Hmm…I guess that’s true,” G-Dragon said thoughtfully, tapping his chin, “you can’t do anything with music when you have that sort of resolve.”

Henry looked back and forth between them, wondering why it felt like an adult scolding a child. Then again, perhaps he was sympathizing because that’s probably how he looked with Jiyoung. “Ah, interview tomorrow morning,” Henry spoke up, touching Jiyoung’s arm, “you have an interview tomorrow morning, right?”

The elder blinked, eyes lifting up to the ceiling for a moment in thought. “Then perhaps I should head to sleep.” Jiyoung nodded to himself, pushing off the wall. “Let’s talk again, Kyuhyun.” He smiled before turning down to Henry and kissing the boy’s cheek. “Good night,” he murmured against his skin.

And then he was up the stairs of their two-floor apartment.   

“You two…seem close,” Kyuhyun remarked slowly, letting out the breath he had been very consciously holding. The air around Jiyoung had been eerily disconcerting, partly because of the sheer power he exuberated and partly because of his casual demeanor. Together, those two things seemed to be deadly. Kyuhyun had barely exchanged a few sentences with the man, but it was painfully obvious how different they really were. The small had never seemed so vast before.

Henry blushed. “I guess so. I’m not sure though,” he shrugged. It was hard for him to really make any assertions when the culture was so different. He had no idea what was appropriate and what wasn’t – a fact he was sure Jiyoung took advantage of to . The older male seemed to have a way of getting under his skin, speaking in tones that made him shiver and gazing at him with the blatancy of any American. He had heard that in Asia, eye-contact was impolite, but avoiding Jiyoung on any level seemed impossible and utterly wrong. Henry internalized a sigh, knowing that if he thought about this too much, it would be bad. Looking at Kyuhyun, he asked, “But what was hyung saying? Are you a good singer?” His eyes were bright with interest, his musician-side surfacing and flooding.  

“Uhm, I’m alright.” Kyuhyun looked away, awkwardly. Despite the discomfort, he could feel his body itching and the only solace for that irritation was music.

“Then can you help me?” Henry suddenly grabbed the older male’s arm, pulling him toward a door adjacent to the kitchen.

“What? Where are we going?” he stuttered.

“We’re almost there” came the reply as they strode quickly over to what appeared to be a room. Henry pushed the door open rather easily. It didn’t seem to have any locks. “You see, there’s something missing in the song I composed. I was wondering what it would sound like with some back-up vocals,” he explained, nodding rather sagely, “Do you mind helping me with that? They aren’t hard lines. It’s nothing huge, so don’t worry, okay?”  

Kyuhyun debated silently, fingers twitching toward the recording studio. The quality was unmatched, the glossy speakers and microphones coaxing him – begging him to love them with his voice.

And he wanted it. He wanted it more than anything in that moment.  

“Just a little bit,” he swallowed.

Henry nearly burst with joy. Grabbing the music sheets, he handed them to Kyuhyun. “Okay, so I’m working on a Korean version of the song with Jiyoung-hyung. He changed the lyrics for translation purposes, but we’re also recording my English one.” He indicated the lines given to Kyuhyun, “I’m happy that the feelings are still there and plus, he approved. Can you sing by ear?”

“Of course,” Kyuhyun snorted.

“I knew you would say that,” Henry grinned, sitting down at his keyboard. Taking a breath, he began playing – soft voice rising bit by bit as the music flowed, engulfing the studio with the sweet innocence of a musician unlike any other idol in their world of glamour and pop.

Kyuhyun caught the beat, tapping his foot as he followed along. His mind was traveling further and further away, to nights with Sungmin and shallow promises and sweet, sweet hopes.

He didn’t hide anything from him. They had reconciled after their falling out, assuring one another of their endless trust. Kyuhyun had taken it as seriously as he knew how, deleting all those numbers and online contacts, erasing everyone from his life except for Sungmin and fortunately, Eunhyuk. That was part of the deal.

Kyuhyun hadn’t thought anything of it and he still didn’t think anything of it. He had nothing to hide in his phone or on his social network feeds. The only things he had to hide were his hook ups and those ended faster than they started. No one knew him at SME and he liked it that way. He could up as much as he wanted or needed without any reprimands.

Guilt was nothing. As long as Sungmin didn’t find out and Kyuhyun quelled his urges…needs – then what was the problem? At the end of the night, when he was feeling gross, still tasting other people in his mouth, he felt closer than ever to Sungmin who was the greatest guy.

Who was better than Sungmin?

You and I,
We are becoming more different
In your endless greed,
Greed

Kyuhyun knew it was just wishful thinking though. Eunhyuk had told him off numerous times about his logic and excuses. There were limits to stupidity, just like there were limits to his relationship with Sungmin.

I’m getting tired,
I guess I’m dreaming alone

Unfortunately, it seemed both limits had already been exceeded long ago.

Will you strongly shake me and wake me up,
Wake me up? I’m trapped, I’m trapped
I’m losing myself,

But without Sungmin, what would happen? Would he ever find someone who would love him as much as Sungmin did? How could he give up someone who had become more than a lover? Despite everything Kyuhyun did, he still loved Sungmin at the end of the day in his own way. He trusted him. He could just be himself around him. They were the best of friends.

I can’t even remember my name without you
Now will you let go of me from inside of you,
Let go of me?

He could let that go. If it meant dealing with being in a relationship with Sungmin, then he could do it. Besides, they had a formula that was comfortable, if not painfully boring. But was the price worth it? Was the risk worth it? Giving up his best friend because he knew they had already expired?

I’m trapped, I’m trapped
I’m trapped oh, I’m trapped yeah

Kyuhyun clutched the paper tighter, struggling as the music tried to drown him, submerge him fully in its lyrics. He felt it closing around him, tight like a cage and darker than night, gripping him as every safety bubble popping and floating away.

But another song found him. One he could never release. It was soft as a spring day, sky bright blue and yellow sun dripping through the cracks of fresh flowers and greens. The cage lock broke and the constriction of darkness gave way to dawn and the little bubbles giggled all the way to the top, stringing him along like a rag doll.

Was that the right feeling though? Should he feel those feelings? What was right? Or rather, what was he denying?

I want to forget you

Because then they could break up.

I want to fly away

To somewhere that plays the spring melody over and over again.

I want to let you go

Because someone else is waiting – has been waiting a very long time.

I want to be free

To go to that place where he is waiting on that one fine spring day.