Jongin

So tell me the sweet song that your heart whispers. - As One - "Sonnet" 

I’ve never told anyone that before. 

Over and over again, the message replayed itself in my head. I remember reading it, feeling my heart thump loudly in my ears. Did I feel stupid for it? Yes, but it didn’t change the fact that even after we said our goodnights, I could feel my heart beating quickly. It wasn’t the same kind of beating that happened when I was nervous, like it did before dance competitions or the first time I was peer pressured into deflowering a senior when I was a freshman; that time was especially horrible, since I had to act like I knew what I was doing and not let my nervousness ruin this poor girl’s first time. She was the romantic kind, wanted candles and flowers and the lot, thought about the night for years, wanted to give it to the right person. The sad thing was that she ended up giving it to a scummy kid three years younger than her that was only there because his erted friends wanted details and never received the time of day from her. I never thought I would hear my heart beat so loudly in my ears again after that night, but was clearly mistaken. It was an unfamiliar beat though, that didn’t just make my stomach drop. It made everything feel weighted and disgusting. My fingers would shake and I would lose focus. 

“Well, Kim Jongin?” Our teacher called out as the s around me snickered. 

“Yes?” I answered, trying my best to sound like I was paying careful attention, though her tone of voice clearly suggested that I had already dismissed one attempt at getting me to answer, thanks to my thoughtless zoning. 

“Give us your opinion on the particular scene.” She repeated slowly, as if to chastise me as much as possible. I knew we had started a new novel recently in our World Literature course, and I knew I had read it before, but with my clouding of the mind, I couldn’t remember for the life of me. But I knew I couldn’t look down and give her further reason to believe I had no freaking clue what was going on, even though that was clearly the case. I cleared my throat, preparing my most intellectual voice. 

“I think it was very relatable. I’ve felt like that, sometimes.” I said, shutting my eyes afterwards. The academic mindset I tried to put on didn’t work, and that was all my brain let me spit out. I opened one eye slightly, only to find her, and the rest of the class staring at me wordlessly. Of course, Kyungsoo and everyone else was trying their best not to laugh at everything. I slowly looked down on the book placed on the desks of all of the other students. 

Of course, it was Albert Camus’ The Stranger. I immediately deduced that I had probably said that I could relate to the narrator shooting a man on a beach for no reason at all, and feeling absolutely nothing. I turned to the teacher with my mouth open, prepared to answer with something else, to which she signaled me to be quiet. 

“Mr. Kim, I’d find much more peace of mind if you admit to me right now that you had absolutely no idea what was going on when I asked you to answer. I don’t want to report you as a major threat to the school’s psychologist.” I nodded apologetically at her. She, along with the rest of the class, sighed with relief. I was existential, I admit that, but I was trying to find feelings, not taking pride in the fact that I had none. 

Mrs. Shin looked at the round clock behind her desperately. It was 10 minutes to lunch, and I’m sure my absentminded comment made everyone want to get out of the room as soon as possible. 

“Why don’t we take an early lunch today, ay class?” She said with a nervous smile plastered on her face. All the students looked grateful, either to be away from me, or to be able to line up early and get a decent lunch. We were all piling out of the room in an instant. The jerks surrounding me finally let out their annoyingly boisterous laugh. 

“By 4 o’clock this afternoon, the entire school will be talking about what a psycho their sweet price Kim Jongin is.” Baekhyun said in between the gasps for air he was taking. Even Kyungsoo couldn’t hold back his laughter at my demise. 

“And by 5 o’clock this afternoon, it’ll be confirmed after I’m photographed standing over your decapitated body.” I muttered in response. Kyungsoo reached up to ruffle my hair, an annoying habit he picked up to perform whenever I would oppose the group’s stupid jokes. I swatted his arm away, earning me slight “tsk” noises. 

It astounded me how I always found ways to defend him, when it was becoming more and more obvious that he was the most intolerable out of all of my friends. The subject was changed as we all noticed Baekhyun looking around the cafeteria. 

“Hm.” He commented with a huff. “I guess they’re not here anymore.” 

“Who?” Asked Sehun, who earned himself a smack from Joonmyeon for talking with his mouth full. 

“The cute little student council chicks. I was gonna volunteer to sign up.” He said, with a fake pout. 

“More like volunteer to everything up for them.” Chanyeol replied, earning himself a smirk and a “bingo” from Baekhyun. 

“I just want to make their head cry.” Baekhyun continued. “Did you see the tone she took with me?” 

“You did interrupt her presentation with a malicious remark.” Kyungsoo chimed in while pushing his meal around his tray. 

“And common courtesy would’ve told her to at least smile at everything I say.” 

“Do you have the right to talk about common courtesy?” Kyungsoo added with a smirk. 

“Either way, I want to make her suffer. It seems like it would be fun.” It had been a while since Baekhyun had wanted to get someone to “suffer”. I thought he was over this stuff a year ago, but apparently, he had not found a worthy opponent. Baekhyun was as resourceful as he was immature. Whoever the girl he was talking about was, she should be very wary of everyone for the next few months. 

“We haven’t used our casanova as a weapon for a while.” Baekhyun began again, looking to me. 

“And you won’t.” I said, sternly. I would never sleep with some poor girl to punish her for some stupid, imaginary insult every again. I’m ashamed to say I had done it many times in the past, but I wasn’t going to stoop so low again. The others were already thrilled at the idea of reworking Casanova Kai into their revenge plan, so I clearly got various groans in response. 

“C’mon, Jong. She’s not even bad to look at.” Joonmyeon pleaded. I didn’t look up at them the entire time, disgusted at what kind of people I associated myself with. 

“I didn’t pay attention to her.” I answered, truthfully. I saw a small, unfamiliar figure come in from the corner of my eye the day that someone from the student council walked in, but I was too immersed in my own little world to see or hear anything. I had seen the student council president once or twice, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember what she looked like. 

“Long dark hair, cute little button nose…” Joonmyeon said, trying to get me to remember what she looked like. 

“Cute little .” Sehun interrupted him in the same tone. I rolled my eyes at the lot of them, all snickering. 

“She could be Miss freaking Universe for all I care. I’m not sleeping with anyone for your stupid peace of mind.” I spat, now clearly frustrated. 

“Calm the hell down, man.” Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. “You can look down on us all you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve done it before. You’re not better than us because you’ve suddenly deemed us immature. There’s a dozen girls I can point out in this room who have been hurt by you leading them on for our pleasure, and can’t even tell anyone about it because they’ll be called liars and harassed on the daily. There’s a dozen more I can name that have graduated. Quit acting like this is above you. This defined you no less than a year ago. It’s the only thing you’re good for.” Kyungsoo said. 

It wasn’t what he said that bothered me completely. I mean, a large part of me knew that was bull. It was the fact that he was who I considered my best friend, and he said all of this to me without batting an eyelash, while concentrating on his food. He looked over at me and smiled, the same smile he’d give the other guys when he wanted to say he was joking. Everyone else began laughing, but I knew better than to accept it as a joke. I stayed quiet for the rest of our lunch. 

The more I stayed quiet, the more I began noticing that he may have been right. His words took a while to set in, but hell, their impact was astonishing. I looked around the room, looking for familiar faces. My eyes first met with the innocent eyes of Lee Suhyun. She was an adorable, now incredibly insecure sophomore. I had slept with her last year, after being convinced by Baekhyun that her older brother, his then tutor, had disrespected and insulted him. It was only until I fooled around with her and broke her heart that I found out that he had only quit tutoring Baekhyun because he was horrible and honestly unteachable. I would still see her in the halls, looking down. Her eyes weren’t bright anymore, especially not when she realized I was looking at her. I tried to shoot her a faint smile, but she only looked away. 

I then looked over at the “impenetrable wall” as they were called - Kim Ahyoung, Bang Minah, and Lee Hyeri. Only one of whose life I hadn’t ed up, only one who was truly impenetrable. Kim Ahyoung was the first. Baekhyun took a liking to her, coming to us one day saying that he was embarrassed beyond belief, that she had broken his heart. They sent me in to break hers in response. I remember, stumbling onto her during a party, acting like I was drunk and taking advantage of her kindness. It turns out she turned Baekhyun, and everyone else, down so blatantly because she had a boyfriend she loved. I remember him storming in on us after being told by one of his friends that his girlfriend went into a room with an unidentified guy. I left during the screaming match, watching Ahyoung glare at me with utter hatred behind her tears. I’m sure she tried to warn Minah, the next, but like everyone else I had fooled around with, no one believed her. Minah had reported Baekhyun for cheating on an important exam, one which he definitely should’ve studied for. It landed him a zero in the class, and some serious punishment from his parents. Out came his complaining, and in came me, charming her into submission, and leaving the next day. The three of them glared at me when my eyes crossed their table, and I looked away, embarrassed. 

I was disgusting. I messed with the hearts of nice, sweet girls for the bull approval of friends that didn’t care about me. They wanted me to do it again, and I wouldn’t have it. I got up before I could hear any more of their stupid conversation, sending the best wordless apologies I could to every girl in the room I had messed with. Their reputation was tarnished, while mine remained clean. It wasn’t fair. 

I was so worked up over the conversation I had with the guys that I had forgotten the pounding I previously felt. It was definitely there again, now that I was sitting in front of my laptop. I couldn’t even try to discern what it was before I found myself typing a greeting to the girl I always seemed to be itching to talk to. I was afraid that she was going to be more shy after our last conversation. If I was lucky, she would take it as an opportunity to be more open. 

I complied with the small talk she was making, about our day and how we were feeling, even urged her to talk about how she was feeling after her confession, only because I knew it was my turn to ask a question. Our small talk ended soon. 

I believe it’s your turn, sir. She added, playfully. 

I took a deep breath, wondering how I could word this without making it obvious that it was going to be self reflection. 

Do you believe people can change?  

That’s a broad question. Of course people can change, we’re constantly getting new influences from every piece of stimulus we encounter. So I know we can change. But the matter of believing it requires something completely different. Do you want to know if I believe people can change morally, ethically, idealistically? In their taste of music, or in diminishing habits everyone hated? How do you mean? 

I guess in general isn’t an option here, is it? I typed with a sigh. She did surface a good point. There were degrees people believed in change, and if I wanted to know what she thought, I’d have to be specific. But being specific made me nervous, because she was smart, and I knew she would be able to catch on to me recounting my own experiences. Along with the irregular heartbeat she caused, she also made me not want to be thought of poorly. 

Nope. 

I guess morally? I mean, if someone did something when they were young and stupid. Well, younger and peer pressured. If they did tons of things they regret, do you think it would be possible for them to change? 

If they regret it, I guess that’s evidence that they are changing. Maybe it’s not a complete change, but it is some change. So I guess I can believe that person could change. 

I smiled to myself. I don’t know why it took some convincing on her part, because this conversation was just a reaffirmation of what I already knew. Some part of me knew I needed her approval, and the majority of me didn’t want to admit it. The instant messenger dinged again. 

The only thing that would hinder my belief would be if that person hurt people. Not just hurt people, but really scarred them. I guess I wouldn’t be able to see the good in them then. But what does it matter what I believe? If they know that they have changed, that’s all that should matter. 

Right. Okay. I replied with a lump in my throat. The previous relief had vanished, and it its place was embarrassment and fear. 

You realize we basically have no idea how to play 21 questions, right? 

What do you mean? 

I mean, I always thought the purpose of 21 questions was to get to know someone simply. Like tiny details that shouldn’t take much time to learn, but can still say a lot about the person. We started off like that, and then we made it dig way too much into realms that some of our friends probably don’t even know about. I mean, you know about my dead sister, but you don’t know my favorite color, or food, or song… 

Don’t you think it’s better to know someone deeply than superficially like that? 

Yeah, but you have to have both the secretive and the superficial. I don’t want to just be a backstory or a tortured soul. If I’m a tortured soul, you might as well know I’m a tortured soul who likes sunflowers. 

Noted. And I see your point. So ask me something. 

What’s your favorite song? 

It was a simple question, but music wasn’t exactly something that flooded my interests lately. If anything, I tried to avoid it altogether; if music was heard from my room, my mother would ask if it meant I was thinking about dancing again. I was forced to teach a class with her, and I didn’t even want to think about dancing any further than that. 

I don’t have one. I answered honestly. 

C’mon, everyone has one! 

What if I was deaf and this was actually really insensitive on your part? 

You’re not. 

You’re right, I’m not, but if I was, that would be insensitive. 

Stop trying to derail the conversation away from the fact that you’re boring and don’t have a favorite song. 

Okay, fine, if you’re so into this question and are determined that it’ll tell me absolutely anything about your personality, what’s your favorite song?

Sonnet by As One. 

Without her telling me why she liked it or what was so great about it to make it her favorite song, I immediately looked it up to give it a listen. It was a good enough song; the melody was light and pleasant, the voices were above average, but what really got me was the lyrics. 

As I listened, I digested every syllable, and wondered why my heart began racing the more I kept thinking. Was it normal, listening to lyrics and getting so worked up? 

My heart races towards you without me even knowing, my heart makes me not able to see clearly without me even knowing. You entered my heart without me even knowing. Can’t believe I’m falling in love. The voices sang. 

No matter what way I tried to work around it, I related. 

It couldn’t be possible, could it? 

I couldn’t be falling for someone I met through an anonymous website. It was absurd. 

Wasn’t it? 

Happy Friday, you lovely, lovely people! Thank you for your endless support, I appreciate it so much. Your comments really make me smile. Thanks for sticking with me even though horrible, terrible author hasn't let Jongin and Naeun meet irl yet. It'll happen when it's meant to happen! Just think, if you met someone anonymously on the internet you wouldn't meet them after a couple of conversations, right? But anyway, thank you so much to all who are reading, make sure to subscribe and comment, even if it's just to tell me how your day is going (or how much you hate that they're not meeting irl yet, who knows).

J