What up, all yous beautiful people?! Sorry I've been scarce lately, just been busy putting it down for the streets, or something way less ghetto ;~D Here's new chapter for all of you faithful fans, I really appreciate the love for this story. Enjoy the crazy plot twist at the end, muahahaha!

I would love to say that Irene eventually got over that prick Suho and everything resumed as it was once. But that wasn’t the case at all; not for her, and certainly not for me either. On the contrary, Irene became steadily worse after her break-up with Suho. She was sad and dejected all the time, always crying.

And then the crying stopped abruptly after a few weeks, only to be replaced with startling indifference to her surroundings and her life in general.

Irene still went to college and hung out with her friends, but there was a different look in her eyes altogether these days. It was as if a light had been shut off inside of her and interchanged with vacant orbs that only stared blindly into the distance without really seeing anything.

It worried me a great deal to see her like this. Irene had confessed to me that she suffered from a mild form of clinical depression which was usually intensified in times of great stress. But somehow this seemed far worse than simply being sad about the end of a relationship or even just depressed. It was as if Irene had given up on her life completely and resisted any means of living it.

And while she acquiesced slowly to what life threw at her, I too began to deteriorate. I was constantly worrying about her to the point where I began neglecting my own eating habits and general sleeping patterns. I tried everything I could think of to help lift the fog from Irene’s mind, but nothing seemed to help or cheer her up for long enough, making me all the more desperate for a solution.

“You look like , Seulgi.” Joy declared one morning when I was particularly haggard over a stack of pancakes.

“Thanks. And I feel great too,” I retorted sarcastically while pouring a generous helping of maple syrup all over my pancakes.

“I’m serious. I’m really worried about you.” Joy persisted in a gentle tone.

“Don’t be, I’m fine. It’s Irene I’m worried about.”

“I understand that you want to be there for her in her time of need, and that’s great. But I’m just not sure if this is healthy, revolving your entire life around Irene. You can’t go on like this.”

“I don’t know what else to do. I can’t bear to see her hurting like this. It’s like I’m watching someone ripping my heart right out of my chest before feeding it to a pack of starving wolves. And while it’s killing me softly, my feelings are just growing more and more. I don’t know how to stop,” I responded weakly, feeling tears threatening to fall onto my cheeks.

Joy opened up several times as if to respond. But whether she swallowed her words or simply didn’t how to answer, I really can’t say. But she shut up all the same and I wasn’t entirely sure that it came as a relief to me.

So in the absence of words spoken to improve my current way of life, I turned to other activities for peace of mind. I began working feverishly on a novel that I had begun just before I had left Seoul. I had abandoned it for the past few months in light of being preoccupied with my new job, my new friends and Irene. But now I returned to it and began writing pedantically, sometimes into the wee hours. I wasn’t even sure what I wrote half of the time, but write I surely did. And when my hand grew too tired, I typed vehemently on my laptop, my eyes moving back and forth in a blur as the indigo sky morphed into a brilliant blue.

And on the days when I was too depressed to write, I played the piano. Since I had predominantly played on the family grand piano back home and couldn’t bring it with me to New York, I spent a few of my early pay cheques on a second-hand electronic keyboard that a housewife in Westchester was trying to get rid of in a garage sale. The keyboard was still in relatively good condition and the notes sounded ethereal in their perfection, which pleased me a great deal.

As a child, I had always wanted to play the piano. But I only began learning how to play basic chords just after my 21^st birthday. I took a few online piano lessons and began keeping notebook after notebook filled with piano chords of every kind. I still couldn’t read musical notes, but I had made reasonable progress in playing the keyboard considering my age and my novice level of proficiency. And I practised quite religiously during free moments in the day simply because playing gave me such intense pleasure.

And something in the piano notes struck a chord with me, something hauntingly beautiful within every single key that I played. I once read in the Bible that King Herod used to have David play the harp for him whenever he was possessed by his inner demons; the calming sound of the harp would soothe him and assuage the thoughts which plagued him constantly, particularly the ones of murdering the man destined to take his place as king. That’s how I felt whenever I played music; for a moment in time, all of those depressing thoughts would just disappear and be replaced with simple and uncomplicated serenity, unmarred by my most reprehensible feelings and emotions. And so long as I kept playing, I could keep the demons away too.

I found myself playing a variety of melodies on my trusty keyboard in the living room of my apartment, Irene asleep in my bed. She had come to me earlier in the morning, visibly distressed. She had bumped into Suho en-route to college and they had engaged in a blazing argument in full view of several pedestrians on the pavement at the time. Because she had been so upset by the encounter, she skipped going to class that morning and came to see me instead. I had to leave her for a couple of hours to go to work, but I returned just after lunch time to check on her. She was sitting on the sofa, watching TV with a blank expression on her face, as if she hadn’t taken anything in. I implored her to take a nap in my bed because she looked positively exhausted, both physically and mentally.

I sat watching her for a bit while she slept. But her oblivious tranquillity began to weigh too much on me, and I extricated myself from the bedroom with the intention of playing some music to calm the turmoil within. I was halfway through a particular melody of one of my favourite songs when I heard soft footsteps behind me, causing the hairs on my back to prickle with anxiety. I turned around in my chair and saw Irene standing in the doorway to my bedroom, her arms hanging limply at her sides.

“Hey, did I wake you?” I asked in concern, inwardly cursing myself for not turning down the volume on my keyboard.

“Uh uh, I’ve been up for a good 20 minutes just…listening. I didn’t know you played,” Irene mused thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I play a little, mostly for fun.” I offered, feeling a distinct sense of embarrassment burn on my cheeks.  

“Don’t stop,” Irene implored painstakingly as I made to get up from my chair.

I acquiesced and sat down again, my hands trembling ever so slightly. I usually didn’t let anyone hear me play, especially since I liked to sing along to the melody on occasion, and didn’t think I could sing particularly well. It was disconcerting to have Irene so close in proximity for a host of reasons; but my desire to keep her close to me at all costs was winning the fight with my conscience.

I willed myself to concentrate and began practising my arpeggio progressions, my thin fingers dancing swiftly across the white and black keys. Without looking up this time, I heard Irene scraping the legs of a chair across the wooden floor before she came to sit down next to me while I played.

“That sounds beautiful,” she praised lightly.

“Thank you. It’s difficult to keep the momentum sometimes.”

“I know what you mean.”

Irene seemed quite prepared to watch me wordlessly while I played and I was powerless to stop her. After I had finished practising for a good 2 minutes, she broke the silence once more.

“Will you play something for me?” she asked in a small voice.  

Her innocent request caused a swooping sensation in the pit of my stomach, like someone had just tickled me. I looked over at her with an unsteady gaze, struggling to keep my face impassive.

“What do you want me to play?” I questioned in spite of myself.

“Anything. Just keep playing. It’s…soothing.” Irene replied earnestly, her eyes locked on mine.

It took all of my resolve to finally break contact with her captivating gaze before returning to the task at hand. I sifted through my mind for a melody that would suffice. Then I finally decided on “Eve The Apple Of My Eye” by Bell X1, an old favourite of mine. The melody was simple enough not to require too much attention, but still infinitely beautiful in its innate simplicity.

I began singing the lyrics in a low voice, my head bent slightly over the keyboard while I played softly. I almost didn’t notice when Irene moved closer to me and rested her head on my shoulder, as if it was the most natural thing to do in the world. The warm pressure of her head on my body did things to me on the inside, making the ache in my chest abound. But along with the ache came that unusual sense of ease that I felt in her presence. Instead of warring further with myself, I closed my eyes like Herod must’ve done once, and gave myself over to my demons.

I was a mess.

The more I tried my best to comfort Irene in her time of need, the harder things got for me. I was in it too deep with her and I couldn’t stop myself from drowning. And with each regressive step I took, the more my feelings for her intensified. I was constantly plagued with the idea of actually confessing all to her till it became an obsession.

I found myself typing unsent messages on my cellphone, incomplete IM’s on Kakaotalk, unfinished emails littered my outbox, all saying the same thing. And just when I’d be close to giving in, I hit the ‘backspace’ buttons on my keyboard and keypad, erasing the truth over and over again. I was openly teasing and toying with the line between sanity and the point of no return, pulling back each time with wearying resilience. It was slowly becoming a curious game of ‘Snakes and Ladders’, ambitious in its effort to climb upwards into inadvertent chaos.

“Are you gonna stay indoors all day?” Joy asked curiously.

It was a Thursday night close to 8pm and I was sitting on the sofa, staring blankly at the TV, which was switched off.

“Yip,” I answered in a sardonic tone, hugging my legs close to my chest while I sat.

“If you’re so miserable not being in Irene’s company, why not just go see her, you ?” Joy asked gently, coming to sit next to me.

“Because it’s even worse being around her right now, Joy. I care about her so much, I really do. But this is just too hard. Maybe it’s selfish of me to keep my distance; but by helping her heal, my heart’s getting broken more and more.” I admitted morosely, making eye contact with my roommate for the first time in a whole hour.

“I’m sorry, Seulgi. I don’t even know what to say to you right now,” Joy confessed painstakingly.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything. You need to go now otherwise you’re gonna be late for your shift. I’ll be fine, I promise.” I said in a hasty voice, putting on a brave smile for her benefit.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be alright?” Joy questioned in concern while rubbing my back soothingly.

“Nothing a drink can’t fix,” I teased feebly.

“Actually, a drink really doesn’t fix much. It’s good for the fun stuff, but not so good for the bad furls.” Joy remarked knowingly, giving me a penetrating glance while she spoke.

I understood perfectly what my roommate was trying to tell me. She was trying to subtly remind me about what had happened the last time I had gone out drinking alone. I slept with Kai because I was so miserable over Irene and Joy didn’t want me to make the same mistake again.

“How ‘bout drinking in the apartment then? The worst I can do is pass out on the bathroom floor.” I joked lightly, causing Joy to chuckle. 

“That sounds like a compromise I can live with. But just to be on the safe side, I’m locking the front door and taking your set of keys with me so you don’t get any ideas.” Joy responded assuredly.

“But what if there’s a fire?” I asked laughingly as she moved towards the front door.

“Climb down the fire escape. Or call Mrs. Augustine across the hall from us. She has an axe.” Joy suggested.

“How the hell does she have a permit for that? Isn’t she pushing 70, give or take?” I demanded flippantly.

“You haven’t seen her wield that baby. She makes the FDNY look like a bunch of pansies,” Joy scoffed. “Call me if you wanna talk or anything,” she offered genially a few seconds, shooting me an encouraging smile.

“Sure,” I responded slowly, returning her smile.

Then with one last wave in my direction, Joy finally departed, shutting and locking the front door behind her with a soft click. After twiddling my thumbs for a good 10 minutes after that, I finally trudged into the kitchen and returned to the living room with a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses.

After consuming nearly half of the bottle’s contents (two by two just like Noah’s Ark), I grabbed the remote for the CD player and started playing some Disclosure. The music ignited a fever inside of me and I began dancing wildly around the living room. The movement reminded me of that night at Greenhouse almost four months ago when Wendy and I had danced together. I had felt so exhilarated in the moment, so completely free and devoid of any burdens. I was completely weightless.

And then my eyes had locked with Irene while she and Suho had been dancing close by and I felt myself crash land right back down to earth. No matter how I distracted myself, I always inadvertently came back to her. I stopped the dance, breathless and flushed with sweat and exhaustion. My head was spinning from the alcohol and I wanted nothing more than to just sleep and never wake up. This feeling of desperation suddenly overcame me and I found myself scrambling to find the phone. I needed to talk to Joy badly.

I was only half aware of dialling the number that I had sifted around for in my brain. When I was put through, I could hear the sounds of people talking and laughing animatedly and music playing loudly in the background.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Seulgi? Hey, what’s up?”

I could almost feel the alcohol swirling about haphazardly in my belly and through my veins, making me feel extremely light-headed.

“Nothing much. I’m just chilling out at home, having a drink or two,” I answered vaguely, stifling a large yawn which had escaped my mouth.

“You’re drinking?”

“Yip. Have to,” I slurred, blinking several times to avoid falling asleep just yet while I sat on the living room floor, resting my head against the foot of the sofa. 

“Why do you have to? What’s going on?”

“You know why.” I retorted in a huff, wondering why Joy was failing to understand now of all days when I wanted to unleash everything I was currently feeling.

I could feel myself getting beyond just feeling tipsy. When I was really drunk, I was likely to fall fast asleep any place, any time. And I had to get this off my chest. There was a pause on the other end, so I saw that as acquiescence for me to continue.

“I can’t do this with her anymore,” I began miserably, feeling that relentless sting behind my eyelids.

“Her?”

“Irene.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m trying so hard, really I am. She’s my friend and I wanna be there for her when she needs somebody. But I can’t do this to myself over and over again. I keep trying to fight this feeling that just won’t go away. But what if I’m just fighting a losing battle? What if this is…it?” I asked slowly.

“What’s ‘it’? What feeling?”

“Feeling like I’m falling in love with her.”

“What? You’re in love with…who?”

“Co-rrect.” I replied facetiously with a silly little hiccough.

There was a long pregnant pause on the other side which pretty much went unnoticed by me while I closed my eyes.

“How? W-when?”

“Pretty much the whole time, practically since I met her online and…BookFace. Why are you suddenly acting like this is the weather to you? I’ve told you all of this already,” I slurred while pouting.

“You’ve never told me any of this before.”

Even in my current stupor, that last statement registered something in me, as if I had missed a vital step in the conversation.

“Whatchu talking about, Joy?” I asked stupidly in perfect imitation of Arnold from ‘Different ’.

“You tell me.”

“Joy?”

“No.”

“What?”

“It’s not Joy.”

Something woke up inside of me at that particular moment, causing me to rip the phone away from my ear and look down at the number I had just dialled. Before she could say anything else, I hung up the phone abruptly, the receiver falling haphazardly out of its holster, rattling loudly on the floor. The truth of the horror which I had just unleashed had sobered me up a great deal.

I had finally gotten it off my chest and confessed.

To Irene. 

Oops, I did it again! *Britney Spears impression* Love that song btw :~P Since I wrote this piano playing scene 5 years ago, it actually inspired the one I wrote in LTH for Yulti two years after that, and so we come full circle once more. The song Seulgi sang and played for Irene features in 'The OC' soundtrack, it's hella romantic, peeps :~D And for the record, I've never drunk dialled and confessed to someone, that is cray-cray. What madness will Seulgi cook up next in this non-love-story? Stay tuned while I go raid the refrigerator the way my hunter-gathering ancestors showed me in a vision. Pip pip cheerio!