Jessica POV

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I continue to stare at the words in the notebook.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Is she right? Did I write them because that’s how I really feel?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I never give it much thought when I write lyrics, because I’ve always felt no one would read them, so it doesn’t matter what the meaning is behind the words.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But now that I think about it, maybe the fact that I don’t give them much thought proves that they really are a reflection of how I feel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To me, lyrics are harder to write when you have to invent the feelings behind them. That’s when lyrics take a lot of thought, when they aren’t genuine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, wow. Yuri is absolutely right. I wrote these lyrics weeks ago, long before I knew about Jun and Dara.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I lean back against the headboard and open my laptop again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: Okay, you win.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yul: It’s not a competition. Just trying to help you see that maybe this breakup is exactly what you needed. I don’t know you very well, but based on the lyrics you wrote, I’m guessing you’ve been craving the chance to be on your own for a while now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: Well you claim not to know me very well, but you seem to know me better than I know myself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yul: I only know what you told me in those lyrics. Speaking of which, you feel like running through them? I was about to compile them with the music to send to Yoona and could use your ears. Pun intended.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I laugh and elbow her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: Sure. What do I do?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She stands and picks up her guitar, then nods her head toward the patio.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t want to go out on that patio. I don’t care if I was ready to leave Jun, I sure wasn’t ready to leave Dara.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And being out there will be too much of a distraction.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I crinkle my nose and shake my head.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She glances across the courtyard at my apartment, then pulls her lips into a tight, thin line and slowly nods her head in understanding.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She walks over to the bed and sits on the mattress next to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yul: I want you to sing the lyrics while I play. I’ll watch you so I can make sure we’re on the same page with where they need to be placed on the sheet music.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: No. I’m not singing in front of you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She huffs and rolls her eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yul: Are you afraid I’ll laugh at how awful you sound? I can’t HEAR YOU, SICA!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She’s smiling her irritating smile at me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: Shut up. Fine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She sets the phone down and begins playing the song.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the lyrics are supposed to come in, she looks up, and I freeze.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not because I’m nervous, though.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I freeze because I’m doing that thing again where I’m holding my breath because seeing her play is just... she’s incredible.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She doesn’t miss a beat when I skip my intro.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She just starts over from the beginning and plays the opening again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I shake myself out of my pathetic awe and begin singing the words.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I would probably never be singing lyrics in front of anyone one-on-one like this, but it helps that she can’t hear me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She does stare pretty hard, though, which is a little unnerving.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She pauses after every stanza and makes notes on a page.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I lean over and look at what she’s writing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She’s putting musical notes on blank sheet-music paper, along with the lyrics.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She points to one of the lines, then grabs her phone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yul: What key do you sing this line in?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: B.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yul: Do you think it would sound better if you took it a little higher?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: I don’t know. I guess we could try.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She plays the second part of the song again, and I take her advice and sing in a higher key.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Surprisingly, she’s right. It does sound better.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“How did you know that?” I ask.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She shrugs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yul: I just do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: But how? If you can’t hear, how do you know what sounds good and what doesn’t?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yul: I don’t need to hear it. I feel it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I shake my head, not understanding. I can maybe understand how she’s taught herself to play a guitar.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With enough practice and a good teacher and maybe a ton of studying, it’s possible for her to play as she does.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But that doesn’t explain how she can know which key a voice should be in and especially which key sounds better.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yul: What’s wrong? You look confused.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: I am confused. I don’t understand how you can differentiate between vibrations or however you say you feel it. I’m beginning to think you and Hae are trying to pull off the ultimate prank and you’re only pretending to be deaf.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yuri laughs, then scoots back on the bed until her back meets the headboard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She sits up straight and holds her guitar to her side.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She spreads her legs, then pats the empty spot between them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What the hell? I hope my eyes aren’t open as wide as I think they are.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There’s no way I’m sitting that close to her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I shake my head.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She rolls her eyes and picks up her phone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yuri: Come here. I want to show you how I feel it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I hesitate a few more seconds, but the agitation on her face makes me think I’m being a little immature.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I crawl forward, then turn around and carefully sit in front of her with my back to her chest but with several inches between us.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She pulls the guitar in front of me and wraps her other arm around me until she’s holding it in position.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She pulls it closer, which pushes me flush against her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yuri reaches down to her side and picks up her phone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yul: I’m going to play a chord, and I want you to tell me where you feel it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I nod, and she brings her hand back to the guitar.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She plays a chord and repeats it a few times, then pauses. I grab my phone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: I felt it in your guitar.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She shakes her head and picks up her phone again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yul: I know you felt it in the guitar, dummy. But where in your body did you feel it?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: Play it again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I close my eyes this time and try to take this seriously.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve asked her how she feels it, and she’s trying to show me, so the least I can do is try to understand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She plays the chord a few times, and I’m really trying hard to concentrate, but I feel the vibration everywhere, especially in the guitar pressed against my chest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: It’s hard for me, Yul. It just feels like it’s everywhere.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She pushes me forward, and I scoot up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She sets the guitar down, stands up, and walks out of the bedroom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wait for her, curious about what she’s doing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When she comes back, she’s holding something in her fist.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She holds her fist out, so I hold up my palm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Earplugs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She slides in behind me, and I scoot back against her chest again, then put the earplugs in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I close my eyes and lean my head back against her shoulder.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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