I N N E R C I R C L E

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13.

“So, Song Minho.” Seungyoon suddenly said in the middle of tuning his guitar. I barely looked away from the screen of my ipad, waiting for him to continue his thought. But Seungyoon left his sentence unfinished, and I glared at him:

“And?”

“Nothing.” Seungyoon leaned closer to listen to the sounds of the strings. “I am just curious as to what you thought of him.”

“There’s not much.” I shrugged. Except I observed him well; boy was good looking and tall, built and tanned, his voice was coarse and deep. In short, he looked like…

“A lot of trouble.” Seungyoon finished my thought as he slammed on the guitar one last time before putting it aside to grab the music chords and lyrics. “That’s what he looks like. Just my humble opinion.”

“You sound challenged.” I returned to my ipad and switched between apps. “Not very into what he’s got, do you?”

“I’m sure he’s talented alright.” Seungyoon put the paper next to his laps and started playing his guitar. “Just not sure bout what he’s got to offer to our group.”

“I listened to his mixtapes. They were cool.” I scratched the tip of my nose and shrugged again. “Not my usual type of music though, honest.”

“That’s the point, Taehyunie.” Seungyoon said without looking up. “We are not Hiphop. Especially you and me. You think we’re gonna get along okay?”

“What’s the point of asking me? You should probably ask whoever brought that dude in. In this case, lord YG aka our almighty boss.” I pulled out my earphones and mumbled before putting them on. Seungyoon caught my hand fastly before I even got to do that simple thing. “Not so fast,” he said. “I’m still talking.” “When else do you not do that?” I sighed to myself and quickly responded before he heard my complaint. “Okay, talk away.”

“Do you think it’s going to change the dynamic in our group?” Seungyoon looked at me, surprisingly calm, but his facial expression said something else.

“Well, if I’m allowed to be honest…” I cleared my throat, looked around to make sure there is no one else in the practicing room but us, then low down my voice. “Do you think we got a group?” Seungyoon raised one of his eyebrows at my statement. “Just my personal feeling, but we have you, pop-rock all the way, then me, conventional gayo stuff. The other two, well, god knows they’re warm and kind people, but they are not exactly what I would categorize as song-writer singers. You know what I mean?”

Seungyoon looked elsewhere in the room; his eyes remained fixed at an uncertain spot. “You’ve got a point. See, this is why I think the Song Minho guy can be a hit or a miss. He can either put a good balance into the group and pull us all together, or he’ll be the next extreme thing that points out the fact that our group is such a mess.”

“I know what you’re talking about. He composes too. Not my, or your type of music, but I think we can at least work with him professional-wise.”

In the beginning, I truly believed that, very strongly. I have good impression of Minho, great even. I mean, have you seen his physique. The only thing I didn’t expect was that the impression about how a person looks can never be accounted for who they are. Especially when much of what came to my perception of Minho was that, well, you see, he’s the entire definition of hotness. Great built, tall, youthful good-looking facial feature with a tad of well-spread masculinity, strong eyebrows and defined jawline, not to mention, his very, very kind heart.

Later on, I learned fairly quickly that his kindness was not unconditional toward everybody. Nor does it distribute evenly toward everyone, myself included.

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