August 2011

    There are different voices for different times you can hear from Kwon Jiyong. There are thin sweet voice you hear when he sings, swag one he uses when he raps, and the hoarse voice he uses to scold me.

    But this is not one of them.

    (What do I do, Seunghyun-ah? What do I do?)

    (I ed up.)

    It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice like that.

    I turn over, not being able to sleep even after an hour in the dark. My phone vibrates and moves in a circular motion on my night table.

    “Hello”

    (Already sleep?)

    “No, not yet.” I reply.

    (I can’t sleep.)

    “Me neither. Want me to go to your place? We can play video games if you like.”

    It’s 1AM in the morning, we can shoot down some zombies.

    (It’s okay, who’d drive you in this hour?)

    He laughs dryly.

    “I’ve already got my license, remember? Get ready, will be there in fifteen minutes.”

    (You really don’t have to do this for me.)

    “Let’s play until we both pass out. Clear every map available.”

    He starts to say something, pauses, and speak again.

    (Like old times?)

    “Just like old times.”

    I put on a black thin raincoat with hood on and grab my car key. Our apartment’s not far apart, it takes only ten minutes to get there. I put the passcode in the lock on his room’s door, take off the shoes.

    The boom noises come from the living room. Zombies after zombies are shot down on the screen, blood splashes all over.

    “Hey”

    I greet as I sit down beside the owner of the house. He doesn’t even look at my face, his always chapped lips let out a silent hey.

    “So you didn’t wait for me to start together?” I pick up the other joy.

    “I have to do something while waiting.” We play the game seriously. There’re only zombies and guns ‘till the sun rises, that’s when he starts to speak.

    “Thanks.”

    “For what?” I laugh.

    Jiyong hyung looks out the window, my eyes follow his to see how Seoul’s already woken up. People are going out to their work.

    “How many nights have you been awake?” I gesture the controller at his swollen eyes. Hearing my question, he simultaneously touches them with his fingers-the nails all short and bitten.

    “Just one.”

    “Not a night, I know that. How many times I’ve seen you stay up all night, writing songs?”

    “Or two.”

    “My money’s on three.”

    “Right, you’re good.” he admits, slowly close his eyes.

    I stay silent. Wait for him to speak what’s in his mind.

    “How’s Daesung doing?”

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