It wasn’t ideal; not the best location like a train station or a mall. The underpass was rarely used now, a more efficient and air conditioned overpass had been built. Only those that were lost, or true locals taking a shortcut to the subway, ever passed through. It meant that tips were scarcer than ever, growing to the point that he had taken a job pouring beer and collecting glasses in a club to keep eating. 

He couldn’t give up his spot though. There was at least a place to store his drums, a disused janitors closet that one of the employees had slipped him the key to. And the acoustics were too addictive. A tiled tunnel, bouncing the sound around until it felt as though you were inside his bass drum. It was the only thing that got him through. When he wasn’t lost inside music the harshness of reality chafed him. His work, his life, he wanted to get away. He wanted a break from feeling this way. He wished for an escape.

000

Nice shoes, clean and bright, stylish. Not the type of shoes that ever saw a day of heavy labour. Nor the type of shoes that spoke of a businessman in any sense. These were the shoes of a layabout. The shoes of a rich city boy with nothing better to do than look nice and shop. 

He watched them as he walked, letting them lead him through the city. 

He had begun in the mall, exploring the newest items and most expensive things. Unsurprisingly he had tired of it quickly, he tired of everything quickly these days. To try and stave off the the impending apathy he had begun walking. 

It didn’t work. It never did. Instead he was left with time to think about the acute absence of anything in his life. He had money, he had things, but nothing real. Nothing that meant anything. 

His feet led him down grimy stairs and through a dim underpass.

000

“Don’t forget to greet the customer!” A gruff voice followed him through the kitchen.

“Yes, yes,” He bowed, balancing three pizzas on one hand.

“Wear your helmet!” The voice was still chasing him as he grabbed said item in his free hand.

“Yes.” He gave another bow, kicking the door open to the alley. 

“Obey the law. That’s my name on your shirt!”

“Yes!” He shut the pizza away safely in the hotbox and pulled his helmet on.

The old man was still calling advice when he pushed away from the curb and rode into the street proper. He turned his face to the wind, letting the whine of the scooter and traffic noise block everything out. 

This was his favourite part of his moderately terrible job. The hours were long, the pay was almost a joke, but this feeling of freedom as he wound through traffic made it worth it. 

Only a pity it was such a small part of his job.

000

Bright green with a flash of yellow, the water from his watering can seemed to bring the colours out even more. He moved over to set the can down, instead taking up an atomiser and spritzing the flowers. They were remarkably fresh for the afternoon heat, a combination of his good location on the street and his talent at caring for the plants. 

A sigh escaped as he watched the droplets roll from the petals of an iris. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy his job. He found it soothing; caring for plants and selling them on to passersby. But he worked long hours and often had little more than rent and food money. He only stayed with the stall because the old woman who had owned it before him had begged him to. She had promised she would return one day… four years ago. He didn’t want to sell flowers his whole life, yet he wouldn’t saddle anyone else with his responsibility either. 

He set the sprayer down and sat beside it in the small patch of shade. 

000

Endless words, meanings, concepts, descriptions all rattled around his brain, vying for space and attention. Highlighters, coloured pens and notebooks with almost illegible writing dominated the space. Textbooks and a laptop filled the only spare sections of the tabletop. The last space was taken by a man’s head, facedown on the cool surface and pinched with suffering. His arms hung limp by his side, still loosely clutching a pen. 

He needed a holiday. Just one day. 24 hours of nothing but partying and he would be healed. A day of drinking, revelling. Of enjoying his youth to the fullest before he finished the last exams and became an adult. Before he was shackled to a business and a life of responsibility. 

Just one night.

000

A flick of fingers and a note dropped into the bucket, something tucked into the fold of the bill as it fell.

000

After 4 one-more-songs, Chunji reluctantly set his sticks down and began disassembling the kit. He had approximately an hour to get home, get showered and get to work. Another 8 hours of pouring beers and mixing cocktails. Of dealing with intoxicated patrons and their lack of general manners. And of making enough money to pay his rent and electricity, his mind reluctantly reminded him. 

With the gear stowed, he took a quick moment to shuffle the money in his bucket into a pile and folded it into a zip-lock bag. He would count it when he was home. 

Another check of his watch and he tore off down the tunnel, his train would leave in 5 minutes and if he wasn’t on it, he wouldn’t make it home in time to shower.

000

The sun was sinking in the sky, not so close to the horizon that it was sunset but low enough to begin hiding behind the towers of the city skyline. Late night shopping kept the streets full but suddenly Cap didn’t feel like being surrounded by people any more. He turned back to the block of parks he had left his car in and meandered back over his own footsteps. 

There was a sweet golden glow to the afternoon, like something from a film. Something from a dream. A ghost of calm settled onto his shoulders for a bare moment, just an instant of relief from the growing loneliness in his heart. There, and gone. 

His head hung and he wandered ever slower.

000

There were questionable noises emerging from behind the door. Ricky rapped harder and louder, trying to make it up over the straining voices on the other side. It took another minute or two, his face burning red with second-hand embarrassment the entire time. The barely clothed man took his pizza, left a moderate tip as an apology and shut the door in his face. Ricky couldn’t say he wasn’t glad about that.

With a shake of his head, he turned away and trotted back down out of the garden to the street. His scooter was just as he had left it, thankfully. He hadn’t expected to take that long and had left the hotbox unlocked. Just to be sure he checked the contents were still safe and sound. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Sighing the entire time, he pulled his helmet on. He stopped and gave the sky a brief look, a silent prayer to get him out of this rut he was stuck in. The scooter revved and pulled away from the kerb.

000

Waving a few stems of gerberas sweetly, he smiled to every passing pedestrian. A few he would greet, waving and bowing a little as they passed. Some stopped, bought their bouquets, posies or pot-plants on their way home from work. Most pretended he didn’t exist. Niel didn’t let it phase him, it was part and pass of being a street vendor. Nobody wanted you there until they actually needed what you were selling. 

The sky was bruised with twilight when the last of his flowers went. He emptied the buckets, stacked them and packed away all of his utensils for the following day. It would start at 4am in the flower markets and continue on until he had no more stock to sell. Now he could take his earnings, get some food and shamble home to sleep. 

He glanced at the sky, a small flutter of hope in his chest. Maybe tomorrow would be different. Maybe tomorrow things would change.

000

Changjo had long ago given up. He was now catatonic with stress and anxiety as he stared at the notebooks. Nothing more would fit into his head. Nothing more would move from his brain to his writing hand. He was stuck.

The sky was long dark outside, and he knew he should just pack up and go to eat. It was pointless to continue sitting and staring, nothing was happening. Slowly, like ice melting, his hand began to move. It was mechanic. Disjointed from his body as it collected pens and folded books shut. His knees snapped so loudly as he stood that the student in the alcove next to his leaned back to stare at him as if to ask if he was OK. Changjo smiled awkwardly and bowed an apology. 

If he didn’t want to go before, now he really did. 

000

Swift, barely noticeable, a slip drops onto a desk. It doesn’t make a sound as it lands, nor do the footsteps as the figure slips away.

000

There are some things in life you just know. Some things you can see coming and cannot alter the course of. This was one of those moments. He could see the barrier coming, he could see the cat he had swerved to avoid, he could see that in less than a second he would pitch headfirst over the barrier and into the street below. Screeching metal and a stunning impact as he opted to topple sideways and skate over the rough road instead of falling to his death. 

It took a moment. An instant of gratitude passed over him before he pulled himself out from beneath the machine and switched off the key. Wasting no time for himself he stood, wrestled the scooter back onto it’s wheels and checked for the cat. It was long gone, the horrendous noise enough to frighten it back to it’s hidey-hole. The street was littered with pizza; some still in their boxes but upside down, some smeared along the path he had taken. All of it, coming out of his pay. 

Ricky slumped back onto the ground, leaning against his scooter and pulling the helmet off in disgust. He glared at the sky. This was not what he meant when he asked for something out of the ordinary. 

He knew he should call and let the shop know. They would need to call the customers and send a new batch out. Instead he simply sat staring at smeared pizza and crushed boxes. A mantra drumming through his mind as he stared, This is not my life.

It was cut short by the sight of something out of place. Other than the mess of food everywhere. A small rectangle was stuck to the corner of a pizza box. Brow furrowed, he reached out and pulled it away.

000

Niel passed over the money, smiling tiredly. The sweet waitress took it, counting swiftly and nodding. 

The same waitress set his bowl down and passed a small card back to him. 

“This was in one of the notes,” she informed him, “I thought it might be important.” 

Niel chewed, trying to empty his mouth enough to respond. By the time he had swallowed enough chicken to talk, the waitress was gone. He picked up the slip; it was small and plain cardboard, like a business card but narrower. His lips pursed with confusion. A customer must have slipped it between two notes as they paid. He flipped it over to inspect the back.

000

It was gloomy and dim, the ading scent of stale urine floating somewhere nearby. Cap moved to his car, unconcerned about his seedy surroundings. After a quick once over to check there were no scratches or dings in the paint, he slipped into the driver’s seat and the engine rumbled to life. It settled into a purr, the noise of a jungle cat beneath the bonnet. Before he had even slipped it into gear he noticed the card beneath his wiper. Without pause he pulled out of the park and wound down to the ground floor. It wasn’t until he was waiting at the boomgate that he flicked the wipers on and snatched the card from beneath, one arm out the window awkwardly. 

Cap laughed as he managed to catch it. He honestly hadn’t expected to get it. If only someone else was there to see him do it!

The victory was swamped by the morose thought and he scrunched the card in his fingers. 

000

Changjo stared at the girl sitting beside his alcove. She was ignoring him, bent on studying. He stared longer, eyes burning into her curls until she leaned away from the book and glared back. 

He raised the card between two fingers, a question on his face. 

The intense look of doubt and confusion was enough to convince him. She had neither put it on his desk, nor noticed who had. 

He had only gone for a moment, putting his books back and checking out the ones he would still need. Upon his return, a small card was waiting in the middle of his desk among the chaos. 

000

“Welcome!” Ricky called, voice weary and defeated. His arm was patched with gauze, a technicolour bruise spreading from beneath and into his shirt. 

“Ricky!” Chunji greeted happily, cheeks bunching cutely as he approached the counter. “What are you doing serving? What happened to your arm!?” His voice soared from delighted to appalled in a matter of seconds and octaves.

“Hey hyung,” Ricky waved, a genuine smile gracing his face. “Crashed the scooter. Just a little roadrash.”

“How did that happen?” He leaned forward and inspected the wound as much as he could.

“A cat.” Ricky shook his head, ringing up Chunji’s order before he even bothered to make it. 

“Aww, is the cat OK?” Chunji passed his cash before even bothering to hear to the total. Ricky nodded, waving him over to a table to sit. 

“I’m taking my ten!” Ricky called to the kitchen. A moment later another of young man appeared to take Ricky’s place. Ricky slouched over to Chunji’s table and fell into a seat beside him. 

Chunji was quickly flicking through the cash in his zip-lock bag, counting silently as he went. Ricky watched, waiting for the total. 

“Seventy-five thousand, two hundred and seventy-four won. Three crumpled receipts. Nine train tickets. An American quarter, 100 yen piece and…” Chunji’s eyebrows creased, “A business card?”

He brought the thin card out and passed it to Ricky to inspect. The rest of the rubbish he crumpled into a pile. He pocketed the foreign coins to add to his collection. 

“Weird,” Ricky’s voice was animated for the first time since his arrival. Chunji’s eyes snapped up to stare at him. “Maybe it’s some weird cult, but I got one of these last night.”

“What?” Chunji asked, taking the card back and reading the brief script.

Seoul Night. Rooftops. Seoul. I never lied to you.

A number that looked mysteriously like a code of some sort edged one side, and a tear away as though it were a ticket was the other end. 

“This is weird,” Chunji agreed, already trying a few simple solutions to the code. “Where do you think it let’s you in to?”

“A better question is ‘what does it let you in to?’” Ricky passed his own for Chunji to compare them.

They shared a long look. 

000

“Where have you been?” Niel called, keeping his voice light and friendly despite the overwhelming relief flooding his system. “I thought you’d forgotten all about me.”

“I was just doing stuff,” Cap mumbled, not meeting his eyes. 

Niel’s lips pressed tight before returning to their regular smile. He folded himself onto the steps beside Cap and continued tying bunches of flowers together.

“I like this one,” Cap pointed to the garish sunflowers. 

“Miniature sunflower,” Niel spared a glance as his fingers worked quickly on the bouquets. “They’re cheaper now they’re coming into season.”

They fell silent, Cap watching Niel and the passersby in brooding silence. 

“Have you been working?” Niel asked, voice distracted as he worked.

“No. Just walking. And driving.” Cap leaned backward and stared at the patches of blue sky. 

“Want to buy a flower shop?” His voice was serious but they both knew he wasn’t serious. He had already asked Cap about 7 times, the answer was always the same.

“I’m not pretty enough to own a flower shop.”

“Nonsense. You’re positively blooming yourself.” Niel nudged his ribs, offering him the four bouquets. 

Cap snorted and stood to set the bouquets into a water bucket. Niel continued wrapping more, passing them to Cap to be placed into buckets when he was done. 

He wasn’t sure why Cap came and spent time in the stall, he could make a fairly good guess though. The man was perpetually morose, he seemed to be searching, yearning for something he never found. There were moments, mere flashes, as they laughed and chatted like normal people, that Niel saw a different man underneath. But they were like a wisp of smoke through his fingers. 

“Hey,” Niel stretched and leaned away from the piles of foliage still waiting to be bunched. “Something weird happened yesterday.”

“Mm?” Cap’s eyebrows rose slowly, waiting for Niel to elaborate. 

The florist stood and dried his hands. He searched in his small cash-box for a moment and returned. 

“Here,” He passed a small card to Cap. “You’ve got friends all over the city. Any idea what this is?”

Cap inspected the card, eyes moving over the text. He flipped it over, examining the blank back before pulling his top lip between his teeth.

“I knew you would know,” Niel mumbled, returning to his work. He waited for Cap to begin talking.

“I got one too,” Cap said, pulling his own crumpled card from a pocket. 

Niel stopped, fingers gripping stems tightly but staring at Cap agape. 

“What is it then?” Niel asked.

“I don’t know…” 

“Really?” 

“But I think I can guess,” Cap admitted. There, a puff of the smoke and he appeared as a normal young man. His smile broad and eyes crinkling slightly. Then it was gone, the dour expression back in place.

000

Notes and scraps of paper littered the desk. A pen scribbled furiously, scratching out letters rapidly before scrubbing them out once more. The page was twisted off and tossed to the mess of already discarded notes. Changjo was bent over it, tapping his pen against the wood of his desk. He refused to look up and see all of the post-its trying to coerce him into studying. He would study, just as soon as he cracked this code. 

The card was taped to the desk at eye level, not that he needed to look at it anymore. He had already memorised the whole thing. He had written it out several times, waiting for a of genius to find the key to the code. 

He was certainly avoiding his impending responsibilities. He didn’t care anymore. He needed to know. He needed to find out why this card had been left for him. 

His pen began scratching once more, heart thumping loudly as his mind worked. 

A numeric cipher and a Vingenere mixed? 8 numbers, 8 letters. Rooftops. Why the S?

His pen flew, eyes flickering and fingers tracing the square as he unravelled the message.

000

“I got it!” Chunji cried, looking up at Ricky with a beaming smile. “I worked it out!” 

“Really?” Ricky abandoned the register to come and look at the phone screen Chunji had been pouring over for the last hour.

“Really. There’s a building in the city owned by Litz, Turner and Yule.” Chunji gushed, only flashing the phone to Ricky for a moment before turning it back to himself. “It was hell to find. They don’t trade under that name in Seoul but on the south side of the building there is the letters mixed into the modern architecture. So the building says LTY but nothing anywhere else does.”

Ricky smiled, eyes bemused as Chunji continued to ramble at high speed. 

“The null cipher says ‘In LTY’ but it was just as much of a challenge to even find that. We have to go. Ricky, we have to. I worked so hard. I need to know what the heck it is.” Chunji finished, almost vibrating with the energy of success. 

“What if it really is a cult? ‘I never lied to you’ it’s so ominous.” Ricky reasoned, returning to his place behind the counter.

“No, that’s one of the clues. It doesn’t really mean anything. The words could have been ‘Insurance not long til…’” He trailed off, looking for a word beginning with Y. “It just, it doesn’t matter. Please, say you’ll go with me?” His eyes widened, the brown becoming overwhelming and liquid as he turned them on Ricky. “Please?”

Ricky hesitated, rubbing at his sore arm. 

“Fine.” He huffed. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Yes!” Chunji clapped happily. “We’ll go tonight.”

000

Niel: Are you sure about this?

The message had been waiting for him for 20 minutes.

Niel: Cap? I’m here. There are other people going in. Are you coming?

The message blipped in as he was trying to find a reply to the previous one. 

Niel: You better show.

Cap smiled, warmth flaring and settling into an ember in his stomach. He stood, grimacing through his happiness. Should he go? Should he ignore the texts and go home?

A prodding finger in his mind pushed him out the door of the cafe and down the street. 

How could he even contemplating going home when he finally had a chance at what he had been so depressed about? Would he get a chance like this again?

His insides curled with the anxious idea of attending a mysterious gathering. The ember pulsed with heat again. He kept walking.

000

The sky was deep purple now, the sun completely gone and only the lights of the city could be seen. All around them were towering skyscrapers. Sprawling along the edge of one was a stylised LTY. Opposite was City Hall. 

“Hey,” Ricky nudged Chunji’s arm and pointed. “That guy is a regular at my work.” 

Chunji followed his finger to a man standing in the street. He was chewing on one thick lip and glancing up and down the sidewalk as though waiting for someone. 

“He isn’t going in,” Ricky continued, concern in his voice. “Maybe it’s not open yet?”

“Let’s try,” Chunji took his elbow and dragged him into the lobby of the building. 

A woman was standing in the lobby, a clean cut security uniform on and her hair in a severe ponytail. Her eyes were cold as she stared at Ricky and Chunji. Trying to keep his hand as steady as possible, Chunji passed over the ticket. The severe look disappeared, a knowing smile replacing it as she called the elevator down and waved her passcard over the reader. They were on a one way ticket to the top floor now.

000

Changjo strode into the lobby, already passing the card over to the security guard and stepping into the elevator without pause. His heart rocketed around his chest. He bounced on his toes, whatever was out the other side he was ready for it.

000

Niel watched yet another person be passed through by the security woman. He took another long look down the street. 

Screw it, he thought recklessly. He’s probably already up there anyway.

Throwing caution to the wind he walked into the lobby.

000

Cap was gasping for air by the time he slid to a stop before the woman in the lobby. She seemed to be fighting a giggle as he passed her the card and doubled over to heave for breath. When he could stand once more, she waved him into the elevator and selected the top floor for him. He gave a shy smile of thanks. 

The top floor was empty and dark. Nothing but emergency lighting in the hallway. All the suites locked and shuttered. Frowning, doubting his own sources, he moved along the hall. Surely Niel was still here. He would have told Cap if he was going to bail. Although, Cap hadn’t showed any proper sign that he himself wasn’t going to bail either. 

As he reached the far end of the hall, something seemed to be thumping. A rhythmic pounding of something. He moved further, the green light of an exit showing now. 

Among the thumping bass he could hear a rush of voices; singing, talking, laughing. He waited at the bottom of the stairs. The roof, of course. 

With each step the voices grew. It was the epitome of joy. A rooftop party raging above the city. He passed through the door to find a crowd of heaving bodies. People dancing in the centre of the space. The edges were lined with people drinking, eating, talking. He was frozen, watching the lives of all these people come together and spiral out from one another. 

“CAP!” His name cut through the noise and he was dragged from the outskirts and placed right in the middle of a group.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Niel complained, punching his shoulder slightly. 

“Sorry,” Cap blushed and shrunk a little. Three other sets of eyes trained on him with interest. 

“Anyway,” Niel barrelled on. “This is Changjo, he’s a law student. Chunji, drummer and bartender. Ricky, pizza delivery man.”

Cap gave a weak wave. 

“This is Cap,” Niel finished up before frowning. “He’s a nomadic philosopher?” He spoke with a question.

“What?” Cap protested. 

“Well,” Niel shrugged, “Isn’t that what you spend your time doing?”

“Not exactly,” Cap mumbled, eyes locked to the green painted cement.

A wave of laughter moved over the other four and the conversation moved on. 

000

The music was loud, constant and upbeat. Each and every song felt like they needed to be dancing to it. Whenever their aching knees or parched throats would call them away,  a new song would start and they would be drawn right back again. 

Finally, they collapsed off the floor and onto the rugs spread across one corner of the rooftop. Cap felt like he was lighter than he had been in years. The others were laughing, gasping for breaths between chuckles and groaning for water. 

“I need a drink,” Niel complained, a sweaty and sprawled mess on the ground. 

“I’ll get some,” Chunji struggled to his feet and shambled away. 

“Yo,” Changjo settled onto one elbow and looked over at Ricky, “What happened to your arm?” 

“I crashed my scooter,” Ricky replied, a square grin flashing as he held up the injured arm. 

“Bummer,” Niel put in. 

They lapsed into silence until Chunji returned with bottles of water and beer for them all. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he announced as he folded back into a tailor seat between Ricky and Cap. “Where did the cards come from?”

“Me too,” Changjo agreed, glancing around at the rest of them. “Mine just showed up on my library station.”

“Mine was in my change,” Niel shrugged. 

“Me too, well my tips anyway.” Chunji put in. 

“Beneath my windscreen wiper.” Cap shrugged, eyes burning just as much as the rest of them despite his cool exterior. 

“Mine was stuck to the corner of a pizza box,” Ricky mused. “I’m still not sure how it got there. Or even if I was supposed to be the one that found it.”

“You don’t think it’s random?” Niel’s voice was surprised. 

“I mean…” Chunji interjected, “It has to be, right?”

“What if it isn’t though?” Changjo postured. Their eyes turned to the crowds around them, examining faces and searching for anyone that looked different. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Not completely random.” A new voice spoke from behind Ricky. The five of them turned, necks snapping slightly. He was short and lean, a smile that was closer to a smirk than anything else on his face. But the eyes were kind, full of impish good humour as he took a seat in their circle.

“Uh… hello,” Niel’s eyes flickered around the group. 

“Hi,” He grinned and raised his beer to them all. “I’m L.Joe. Welcome to my party.”

“Your party?” Ricky asked, eyes wide. 

“More or less.” He gave a one shouldered shrug. “It’s everyone’s party. It’s the city’s party.”

“Why though?” Chunji asked, leaning forward a little. 

“Because life is too hard. We live to work and work to live. I wanted to make something more. Something else for us to live for.”

“And that’s partying?” Cap asked, eyes sceptical.

“It’s connection. If you weren’t all searching for something else in your life, you wouldn’t be here.”

A silence descended, unaffected by the party raging on around them. 

“I take my Bar exam next week. I’m terrified of becoming a real adult and being swept away by the expectations others have for my life. I spent an entire day just decrypting the card because I wanted a last chance to escape.” Changjo broke the silence, face earnest as he spoke. 

L.Joe smiled kindly. 

“Well, my job doesn’t …” Niel began with a shrug, “But I never know if I’m doing what I want to be doing, or what I think I should be doing for someone else.”

“I want to drum full time,” Chunji complained loudly. 

“I want my own bike… And maybe a better job.” Ricky added as an afterthought. 

They five of them turned to Cap expectantly. His eyes were locked to the rug, pulling at a loose thread anxiously. 

“What?” He asked, glancing up at the rest of them. 

L.Joe laughed and sipped his beer once more. 

“Relax. Enjoy,” He offered the rest of the place to them happily. With that he stood and sifted back into the crowd. The five of them watched him go, touching people on the arm and chatting a while. Laughing openly and dancing a few steps here and there. 

“Is this real life?” Chunji wondered, eyes still watching L.Joe. 

“I hope so,” Cap mumbled softly.

000

 

A/N: SEOUL BAM!!

OT6 FOREVERRRRRRRRR.