Flashback
Same, but Different“A what?” I blink in surprise. “Did he just say ‘duet’?” I ask Soo. She nods matter-of-factly.
“Please, noona?” Jungkook’s puppy eyes are hard to resist, but I have no intention of going up on stage again.
“Go on,” Woong encourages. “I don’t want to be saying this, but if you’re really thinking today is your last, then end this with a bang.”
End… The word pierces at my heart but I have no choice but to acknowledge it. After all, what right do I have to be doing this? Even this one stage is too much. Jungkook tilts his head at Woong’s comment
“Let’s do this,” I say, determined that this would be my official retirement. Going up with Jungkook, we take a mic each. I nod at Seob for him to start. Since Jungkook is the star here, I let him lead the song.
“I’m sitting alone on the sofa where you used to be
I couldn’t sleep in a bit, in case you came
I’m just blankly staring at the front door.”
I follow up with the next verse.
“I try closing my eyes and closing my ears
But the memories came back to me
Will my heart stop of I hold in my breath?”
Together,
“Only my longing for you comes back.
I’m alone on the sofa where you used to be
I’m here, waiting for you
So far from my side, you’re so far away
I’m still not over you. Only dust remains
As I wait for you.”
As I sing, tears build up behind my eyes. The tears threaten to fall, but I hold them in. At the last verse, I harmonise while Jungkook ends the song. The music stops, and the crowd cheers. I hurriedly run off stage before I burst into tears, carelessly bumping into Woong at the bottom. I look up at him as the first tears stream down my face, only to see that he isn’t Woong. Embarrassed, I sniff and wipe away my tears quickly.
“You okay?” Rap Mon asks, concern clouding his face. I reply with a vague answer before disappearing down the hallway where I find Woong sitting in the pantry. He sees me in tears and without questions hugs me. Like a broken dam, the tears I’ve been keeping in for so long explodes all at once.
“But my father…” I whisper into my phone, afraid to wake my father up.
“You’re not going to get caught,” Namjoon reassures me.
“I’m not really sure about this.” Namjoon scored us a gig downtown but my father has been pretty strict on not allowing me to go, even to the extent of locking me in my own room. He’s been against me singing for the longest time ever. Said something along the lines of no future, but I know it’s because of mum. She, too, started out singing at pubs, but then she got famous and left father – just after giving birth to me. Ever since then, he seems to have something against singers in general.
“Come on, Byeol. You know you want to do this.” Namjoon always had a flare for persuasion, and I can’t deny that I am kind of excited about this. It is, after all, my first gig ever. Looking out the window, I spot Namjoon standing downstairs. With a hand still holding his phone to his ear, he waves at me.
“But this is five stories up though…” I eyeball the distance down and swallow saliva. Namjoon’s plan is for me to reach the tree branch just outside my window and slowly climb down. I hang up the call and slide my phone into my back pocket. I open the window and stepping out, I test the branch. Solid enough… With a jump, I land on the branch safely. Now swiftly, I climb down the tree.
“Lee Byeol!” Comes the world’s most frightening voice just as I fall beside Namjoon. I look up and see father at the window, his expression not exactly pleased.
“Run!” Namjoon hisses, taking my hand. Together, we flee down the street towards the main road where the band would be waiting. Before that, there is a small road that we have to cross.
Look left. Look right. No cars, let’s cross.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, headlights flash in our faces. Next thing I know, I’m in the hospital and Namjoon… he’s…
The tears flow even harder. It’s been a year but I still haven’t gotten over it yet. How can I?
“This is all my fault,” I manage through clenched teeth. “Namjoon…” If only I’d stayed firm on not going, if only I’d listened to my father and stayed at home. If only… if only…
But Namjoon’s gone, my father’s in jail, and there’s nothing I can do. This is why I swore off singing. It was all because of this bull of a dream that took Namjoon away from me, one that turned my father into a mental criminal.
I cry even harder.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Woong comforts. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” I try to stop the tears, but they keep coming on full force. Footsteps and murmuring tells me that the rest of the band is there. They take turns comforting me, and I am grateful for that because I know if anyone is hurting more than I am right now, it is these people around me.
“Let’s go for ice cream,” Soo suggests so randomly that my tears are shocked stuck in the corner of my eye.
“What the heck, Soo?” I say, smacking her on her arm. The guys smile.
“Nice job, Soo!” Ray hi-fives her and I pout at them.
“I call dibs on raspberry. Y’all don’t copy me,” I joke despite knowing that no one else eats this flavour of ice cream. In this moment, everything feels almost normal. Almost…
Packing our things, Soo and I wait at the club entrance while the guys carry their equipment out.
“Ah, hyung!” The familiar voice of Jungkook barges into my comfort zone. Snapping out of my daze, I see Bangtan coming out of the club. With Suga taking lead, the group stops in front of me.
“Great job back there,” he praises.
“Thank you.”
“Namjoonie always had an eye for such talent,” J-Hope says, coming up from behind. I freeze at his words. Who…? Soo notices my tension and puts a supporting hand on my arm.
“Noona!” Jungkook pops up in front of me.
“Byeol-ah, why is he calling you noona?” Soo asks, curiosity getting the better of her. I shrug.
“I guess one year’s old enough for that?” I reason.
“Why are we stopping in the middle of nowhere?” Yet another familiar voice echoes through. Rap Mon – the guy J-Hope called Namjoon – appears. He looks around and catching my eye, he holds his gaze. He smiles a dimply smile and for a second I am almost fooled. I mentally slap myself awake.
This is not Namjoon, I tell myself, at least not the one that you love.
Song: SOFA by Crush, translation by pop!gasa
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