That’s the thing about being a trainee: you know everyone and everyone knows you. Or at least, for Jae, it feels that way when eyes are on him and his eyes are behind a pair of thick-rimmed frames that drown half his face. For three years he’s kept his eyes down and did his own thing. Three years, and he’s seen change big and small— voices changing, style evolving, musical direction shifting, and people coming and leaving. Three years isn’t a long time but when you count the days according to a debut that may never arrive, every second seems to be a forever. When the pecking order as trainees is at least two infinities worse than it was in high school, and fitting is more like a circus act of walking the tightrope finding where you belong between the ruling elite, the ring leaders, lion tamers, clowns and freaks, who can blame him, then? If behind his easy demeanor were walls that kept his personal bubble small.

Keep your head down and focus on your music, that’s what he was told when he came into the company. For the most part, that’s what he did: he sang, he practiced guitar, learned to rap, and avoided dance class at all costs. Life was an endless loop of breathe, sleep, and repeat. Routine didn’t really bother him, so long as he got a glimpse of a future where music is his life.

But just because Jae keeps his head down doesn’t mean his ears aren’t listening.

 

Jae’s heard from someone (maybe everyone who’s been a musical influence to him--or what the hell, maybe it was Nietzsche and Huxley) that music has the power to transcend all known constructs of social barriers if one were only willing to listen. All things fundamental and profoundly significant can only be experienced never expressed, but music comes closest to expressing the inexpressible. Words always get in the way, and when one isn’t as proficient in a language as one likes, one has to find ways. So when 5Live happens and they’re told their music is theirs to create, Jae takes it as his life’s mission to learn music in its very essence and breathe it out in every song.

Or anyway, he tries.

“How does this sound?” he asks Jimin and Ayeon.

He had caught the two girls chatting among themselves in an empty practice room, no doubt gossiping about the latest whatnots at the company. Things like who’s debuting next, who’s about to get kicked out of the trainee roster, and who’s about to quit. At least that’s what Jae thinks they talk about. Girl stuff, sure. Maybe even boys. But he wouldn’t put it past the two girls to be summoning some dark creature from the depths of the underworld just to maintain their angelic voices. Perhaps even penning their latest composition: How To Summon Your Own Supernatural Being In Five Easy Steps, or something. A necessity because news flash, when you’re in a Big Three entertainment company whose roster is filled with the Top 2% no one’s a special snowflake anymore. Except maybe Bambam. But that was a special kind of special and for another conversation entirely, but he digresses.

“Pretentious,” Jimin deadpans after he gives them a thorough performance-level demonstration of his latest homework.

“I wouldn’t say pretentious,” ever so kindly, Ayeon offers—

“Maybe not to his face,” Jimin cuts in—

To which Ayeon sends her friend a levelled look. “I would say detached?”

Detached. Like a sheet of paper you ripped out of a spiral notebook. Jae glared sleepily at the ceiling. What in the actual did that even mean? Maybe he should have asked Brian first. Yes, that’s right. Brian would have a better grasp of his musical artistry but Jae had this niggling feeling that Brian hates him for some reason.

“Maybe you should ask Celine,” Ayeon suggests.

Jimin’s face lights up and Jae begins to suspect it was a plot against him. With Jimin, he never knows for sure. “That is a such a good idea I’m quite frankly distressed I hadn’t thought of it first.”

“Who?” Jae asks.

“Celine Park,” Jimin stresses, jabbing a finger into his skinny arm. “Are you kidding?”

Failing to recognize the name— Jimin made it out to be such a capital crime— he shrugs. “I don’t know who that is?”

Jimin rolls her eyes in a most spectacular fashion and Jae resigns himself to a fate worse than Sungjin’s nagging. “She’s a trainee.”

“Never heard of her.”

“Because she’s not in any of the showcases,” Ayeon patiently explains. “She’s performance-based, kind of like you. I think she’s supposed to sign under Studio J.”

“She plays guitar, too,” Jimin adds. “Actually now that I think about it, I think you have the same taste in music. She did a bunch of Maroon5 covers on her old YouTube account.”

Jimin and Ayeon continue their growing list of merits to this Celine person, but all Jae could think about now was pizza and how he was going to scrape enough lunch money for the next couple of days. Years even, if his future was banked upon his ability to create music and set it off into the world like the brain child he’s always wanted to have.

He’s sure he’ll run into Celine one of these days anyway. It was a small world, even smaller still when your days begin and end within the same four walls. He trusted Jimin and Ayeon’s opinions and judgment of character if nothing else.

Jae’s sure this girl is as good as they tell him.

 

Regarding Celine Park, there was one teeny-tiny bit of information Jimin and Ayeon had conveniently forgotten to supply. Talent? They may as well have been fangirls. Taste in music? They called her the perfect blend of indie and mainstream. How punk-rock was she? Very, so it seemed. So how, of all things, had it slipped their minds to mention that, well, Celine Park? She’s hella cute.

She’s the kind of girl who wears sneakers and ripped jeans and oversized hoodies that make her look smaller than she already is. You couldn’t even tell through her too-big sweaters if she were athletic or sylphlike or even there at all. Her hair was short and styled simply, and on the day he meets her it’s tucked beneath a plain black baseball cap.

“You’re Jae,” she says to him, voice deeper than he was expecting. She adjusts her guitar bag over her shoulder. “You’re in that band. Day6.”

They were Day6 now, Jae reminds himself. Officially. They have a Dowoon now. And a mini-album and a showcase and everything that makes them legit. Though it’s weird hearing it from her like this. Like she wasn’t part of the company. Or maybe she didn’t consider him part of the label. “Yeah,” he answers lamely. “I’m Jae.”

She doesn’t smile, but the expression on Jae’s face--something around his usual easy grin— doesn’t falter even as her brows draw closer together. Despite her frown, all Jae could think of is how long it’s been since he last dated anybody or even thought about dating at all. The thought, of course, is not welcome. There were rules about this sort of thing— romance and the possibility of anything even remotely romantic— and as a freshly debuted band— regardless if they were indie— the same rules of the label still applied. So he crushes the thought, strangles it before it takes root.

But, , she was really cute.

“Okay,” she says after an awkward pause. “Bye.”

Somehow what Jae takes away from all this is that Celine doesn’t like him very much.

Which is ridiculous, and Dowoon agrees. Everybody loves Jae. He was so charming, he could put that on his resume.

“You’re just upset she ignored you,” is what Junhyeok says to him. Offhandedly, too. In the middle of packing up their instruments after practice.

Sungjin huffs and, in more words than necessary, puts them all back into their “place” to clean up because they had an early day tomorrow, they needed to get enough rest, they needed to be able to work efficiently in order to make a good impression on their radio broadcast….blah...blah...blah...

And Jae makes a face at Sungjin, imitates the the way his eyes double in size, and Wonpil covers his mouth lest their leader hears him laugh.

And through all this, all Brian has to say is, “I didn’t even know she was your type.”

 

If it wasn’t clear before, then it was crystal clear now. Dating was not on the table. Which was fine. Good. Whatever.

Jimin laughs at his face, as Jimin is wont to do. “Dude, as if she’d even go out with you.”

Word of advice: Never trust Jimin with your secrets.

Jae forces calm on his face, turns back to his coffee like no big deal. Jimin looks so smug as always. Like she just knows everyone’s a little bit in love with her and she rules the entire world defined by the four walls of the JYPE building.

She does, but that’s besides the point.

Ayeon is kinder. Unlike Jimin who has made it her life’s mission to refresh the hell Jae goes through everyday, Jae could find an ally in Ayeon. A favor which he is so inclined to return should the dating ban on their side of the equation be lifted. Ayeon can date, but the guy who should be asking her out? Not yet. But Jae digresses.

“We won’t know that until he asks her,” Ayeon says, twirling her straw around her iced americano.

“Which he won’t,” Jimin snorts. “You can go to your corner and cry now.”

 

Jae messes up his lyrics and his chords, and he thinks Sungjin’s going to give him hell for it, but their leader just smiles placatingly at him and thumps the back of his shoulder.

“Happens to the best of us,” Sungjin says and Jae can’t tell if Sungjin’s already murdered him or if one of them’s inhaled something too many from the smoke machines from the club earlier that night.

“That’s it?” Jae calls after him, but Sungjin’s already disappeared back into the club to tidy up the rest of their equipment. Jae should probably be coming after him, do his share of the work, but he could barely feel his fingers and he really needs to use the bathroom.

He turns on his heel, and immediately seizes up in a panic. Celine is walking down the alley in a black jeans and a plaid green shirt at least three sizes too big for her. Whe she looks up, her face freezes into something that’s a lot like surprise but not quite: eyes wide and mouth pressed into a tight line.

“Celine Park,” Jae blurts out. “You’re here. Like, actually here.”

Celine looks behind her then down at her battered Converse. “No, this would be my ghost.”

“What?”

“What?”

Jae wipes his suddenly clammy hands on his jeans then gestures behind him. He clears his throat, dry for some reason even though he’s just drank two bottle of water. “So what brings you this side of the city? Did you see the show?”

“No,” she answered, brows furrowing. “I just like the ambience.”

Jae staggers back in shock. “Wait, what? Seriously?”

“No…” Celine stutters in response. “That...that was supposed to be a joke?”

Audible in the distance is the sound of someone’s palm meeting his face.

Then, Jae feels the heat creep up his face and he lets a laugh escape his lips. He could have imagined it, but he spies Celine’s lips quirk upwards the slightest just as she hides behind the sharp angles of her short hair.

 

When Studio J, the bar, opens, Day6’s participation is mandatory being a proper band and all that. And with acoustic night being all the trend these days they’re set for two weekends effective immediately. Because, truth be told, they didn’t have anything else scheduled. Which was all fine and peachy, really. It gave them time to work on their music, write new songs, rewrite old songs, give Sungjin his daily piece of hell on Earth, and submit title track worthy songs because what’s the point otherwise?

So that’s where they are, at Studio J— the bar not their actual studio at the label— wearing stuffy dress shirts and fancy pants. A look Jae deconstructs only by his beat-down sneakers. The stage is tiny, which is to say has enough space for Dowoon’s cajon squeezed in between two stools for Sungjin and Brian on either side of the drummer. Wonpil and his keyboards are pushed to the side and back. And Jae? Jae is where he likes it the best, at the back, away from the spotlight, content to focus fully on the music.

The crowd is a bunch of old people mostly, at least as far as he could see. Probably guests invited by the higher ups, people who owned other people and had smaller people do all the other menial tasks for them. People, Jae had to wonder, probably had very little understanding of what Day6 has to prove— but that’s besides the point anyway. An audience is an audience, and when the rest of the talents and the trainees fill up the rest of the room, Jae feels the burden on his shoulders weigh down on him.

But one strum on his guitar has his doubts flitting away.

At least for now, there was only the music.

 

Jae hasn’t thought of Celine in the past month or three. Not really. At least not in the context of wanting to see her again and actually have a proper conversation. But right now there’s this maniacal grin on Jimin’s eyes that Ayeon is trying to subdue with a firm shake of her head.

He should have known better than accept the girls’ invite to Studio J.

Celine is on stage, wearing a white jacket over a black buttondown and black skinny jeans. Her hair is still the same short angular cut, perhaps softer than he last remembered but he couldn’t really tell what else she’s done with it. She’s on the stool, tuning her guitar and checking the feedback. With the spotlight on her like this, Jae wonders how he’s never paid attention before.

Celine’s songs are covers of American pop songs rearranged in a light guitar arrangement that perfectly blends with her soft husky voice. It’s perfectly confusing because how could someone who looks so cold sound so warm? But it’s when Celine moves on to covers of British pop— songs Jae swears she ripped off his personal playlist— that utterly catches him off-guard. He very nearly grips onto the table to keep him upright, doesn’t even notice the way Jimin is staring at him with glee or that Brian and Sungjin have finally joined their group.

“What happened to him?” Sungjin asks, eyebrows like caterpillars dancing under the sun.

“Leave him alone,” Ayeon chides. “He’s having a moment.”

“What are you talking about?” Brian asks, and vaguely Jae is aware of this, vaguely reinforced that Brian is his one and only True Friend.

Jimin is barely holding herself together.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Celine heads right to their table after her set is done. She takes the only empty seat, empty because Jimin and Ayeon had explicitly left it so, and that seat is right next to Jae’s. So now he’s sitting next to a very pretty girl, and well , when was the last time that ever went well for him?

(Jimin and Ayeon don’t count as pretty girls, Jae feels like he practically grew up with them and that’s just not right.)

“You did good,” Jae says to her, belatedly realizing in shock horror the banality of his statement.

“Thanks,” she mutters back, “I think.” Then she adds, “You, too.”

Jae’s eyes flit over to Brian for help, but Ayeon has him discussing the finer points of a Canadian tour and, god help him, he’s never seen Brian this flustered before. There’s Sungjin, but their leader rolls his eyes at him and sets his attention somewhere further away— up the deck to the DJ. Then there’s Jimin, who’s looking rather too smug Jae would rather dig his own grave than give her express permission to bury him.

“Ever thought of joining a band?” Jae asks. It sounds a lot more like Ever thought. Of. Joining. A-a. Band?

“I guess I could,” Celine answers with much more dignity than him. “Not sure where I could find decent enough musicians for it. Like a drummer.”

“Too bad Day6 isn’t a co-ed band, huh?” Smooth. Absolutely nailed it.

“Yeah, but then I’d probably have to kick one of you out ‘cause you already have too many guitars.”

Jae’s drink nearly slips from his hand, but that’s probably because of the condensation. Yeah, that’s it. “That...that’s a joke, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Oh,” he breathes out a massive sigh of relief. Then laughs nervously. “Yeah, totally. I get it now.”

It’s like a bulb that lights up in his head, except it’s not just in his but in Celine’s as well. Something changes in that moment, and Jae isn’t in a real hurry to figure out what it is and what it means for them both. But it’s definitely something.

“Well...maybe we can jam some time?” Celine offers after the moment has passed.

Jae feels his face heat up, and it’s because of the drinks he’s sure of it. When he looks over at the rest of the table, Brian and Ayeon have moved on to discussing what seems to be a matter of national security, what with the way their heads have come closer. Sungjin is explaining something, maybe too much with his hands, to a not-listening Jimin. It was time to accept his losses, and Jae turns back to Celine feelings much more like himself. That is, if he doesn’t account for the sweaty palms and the urge to duck his head underneath the table.

“Yeah,” he says with a sheepish smile spreading on his face. “Yeah, we should do that.”

Jae’s determined not to think about it too much, but he still can’t help but smile at the thought. And later, when he’ll think he hears light guitar music pouring from across their practice room, he won’t even listen too hard.

 

It’s been ten months since their last comeback and Jae is thinking it’s still better waiting like this than waiting for a debut that may never arrive. Besides, they had plans. They may have been secret plans, but plans nonetheless and he’s just about to burst from the seams keeping his mouth shut. He thinks of waiting, and thinks of Celine.

He pretends he doesn’t think about her, pushes her to the back of his mind, ignores the urge to walk further down the halls than he has to just to see if she’s around. But he’s been thinking about her, perhaps more than he likes and what annoys the hell out of him is that she’s probably never truly spared him a thought. But really, Jae had nothing to go on but a handful of moments, and really what are moments? They were strangers, still. And though they’ve spoken more this past year, they were still generic conversations, not even enough to be considered small talk. Though there was that one time he offered her a bottle of water and she took it. That other time at the JYP Nation concert that she gave him a towel to wipe off his sweaty forehead. Sometimes he smiles at her from across the room and he thinks she smiles back. Last he saw her, she was walking up the stairs with her guitar. He didn’t have the chance to say hi.

So he pushes the thought of her away again, focuses on playing this song one more time before they call it a night, and head on to bed for sleep.

Sungjin will ask him to shower first, maybe. Jae will ignore this.

 

Jae talks to Brian about this. Because Brian’s had a better shot at this, this, with someone who has also, though unintentional and through no fault of her own, has played the push and pull game with him. And Brian’s survived thus far, though it’s vague and they can’t really do anything else but dance around the issue, wait it out until it’s no longer an issue, hope that when the day finally comes all they’ll worry about is dancing around telling everybody about said issue. But mostly it’s because Brian is his roommate and he’s right there. Sitting on his desk, doing his homework like the responsible Business student that he is. Jae is on his bed, on his back, guitar propped on his stomach, strumming to random melodies.

“I’m not really sure what you want me to say,” Brian tells him. “So you have a crush on her. That’s normal for the most part.”

Jae half-sits up, offended for some reason. Confused, for another. “Yeah but what do I do about it?”

It’s not exactly the same as Brian’s situation, now that Jae thinks about it. It’s not like Jae can just casually show up or be in Celine’s presence and not have people talking about it. It didn’t seem quite as natural as Brian’s thing with Ayeon. People saw that coming, really people hoped it would be true. No one was suspicious when Brian and Ayeon would stop to talk to each other in the halls, or when someone would walk into a practice room and see both Brian and Ayeon in there, it’s not like they looked like deer caught in the headlights.

“I don’t know, man. Do what we always do about it?”

Which is nothing.

Unless writing sad love songs about pretend relationships counts as something.

 

When Jae hears music from the end of the hall some time after midnight, he doesn’t ignore it like he used to. He calls after Brian not to wait up if they’re in a hurry, and Sungjin just mumbles something back about not staying out too late or something. He follows the sound, familiar guitar music calling out to him without even using words. Music that feels warmly invasive and leaves him feeling vulnerable, but he finds that he’s okay with it.

He leans a little too hard on the door and it slides open with an audible snap. Celine looks up at him, seized in panic until she recognizes him— and he thinks it takes a while because when was the last time he had dark hair, he can’t even remember— and then she relaxes but only just.

“Sorry,” he says, walking in and closing the door behind him. “Did I startle you?”

“No,” she rushes to answer. But then she says, “Yes. A little bit. Can I help you?” She’s sitting on the large black leather couch pressed against the wall. Her acoustic guitar is set on her lap, and scattered around her is her laptop, sheet music scribbled with notes on the margins, and sheets of paper with crossed-out lyrics. Not so different from their practice room, Jae thinks. Except there’s just one of her where there’s five of them. How lonely must that be, he thinks.

He shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. He feels silly getting caught like this, but all the same crosses the threshold and closes the distance between them. He can worry about whether or not he had permission to do that later on.

“I don’t know…” he says a little guiltily. I guess...what were you playing? Sounds lit.”

“Thanks, I guess.” For the most part, Celine still looks like herself. Maybe a little more worn around the edges, a tiredness around her eyes apart from the eyebags, and her hair’s longer with bleached ends. But still Celine. Just as she is in Jae’s memories.

“No, really.” Jae shakes his head and joins her on the couch. “Could you play that last bit again?”

She does, and it’s even better up close. When she plays, her eyes close and her bottom lips disappears with a flash of teeth. Jae can’t remember being this fascinated before. His face feels a little warm again. He wonders what to say next.

“That was really good,” he says eventually. Because it was. And he can’t think of anything else but how good it was.

“At least someone thinks so,” she breathes.

Jae hears a tinge of bitterness in her voice. “Hey, are you okay?”

She sighs as if she were weighing the merits of telling him anything at all. He can’t claim to be the guy one goes to for advice or even for a listening ear, but he’s a willing shoulder to cry on. He’d be there for her, if she lets him.

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.” He nudges her knees with his, fighting the urge to wrap a hand around the curve of her shoulder.

“It’s not like I don’t love what I get to do here,” she begins. “I do. I love it. I love that I can do small things at a time toward the fulfilment of my dream but some days my heart just feels so heavy. Like I’m singing to the abyss and the abyss won’t even stare back at me.”

“Yeah,” Jae murmurs, “I get that. You know...it does get better.”

“I know,” she sulks. “I just feel like I’m at my breaking point, you know?”

“I know.” He thinks he should remind her of the eternities the other trainees have spent if that were any consolation at all but decides against it. Celine probably knew that already. It’s not like there isn’t a running poll on who’s remained stagnant all these years. As if there were no hard-feelings for the ones who burned brighter and faster, doing in months what others have been doing for years.

“Is that all?” he asks after a while. Just a feeling. He’s got a good sense for those, he’s been told. He may not be much of a talker, but he likes to think he’s good with people. Maybe not like Sungjin and his warmth and instant likability. Not like Brian who always has the right words said the right way at the right time. Or even Wonpil and his sunshine smiles and Dowoon whose quiet strength is enough.

“You know how you feel like maybe the reason why you’re not being heard isn’t because you’re not singing loud enough but because you’re just not as good as you think you are?”

It hurts to hear it. Hurts more because he constantly feels it.

“Yeah,” he replies quietly. He hopes that she feels it, the things he wants to tell her but doesn’t have the words for. “Yeah. I get that. I get you.”

“I mean...you know…” Celine squeezes her eyes shut as if she’s keeping the tears from falling. Her voice shakes the slightest, but unlike Jae who’d be bawling by now if it were him, she was keeping it together. “I don’t mind working hard. I don’t mind the late nights, no sleep, no lunch money...I knew it was going to be hard...I know it won’t be easy and I know it. I’m ready for it. It’s just—”

“Just because you think no one hears you doesn’t mean you’re not good enough. You’re good enough to be here and you’ll make it out there. I know it. I know it because I hear you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah...I like what I hear.”

Celine kisses him. No warning. No signs. Just a soft press of her lips against his. Noses bumping against each other. His glasses pressing against his eyes, half falling off his face. Jae having to lean a certain way. Celine having to stretch out without falling off her seat. It’s a moment that catches him off guard. A moment, that once the awkwardness has passed, becomes a moment. He takes her shoulders to pull her closer and kiss her properly.

“We’re gonna get in trouble for this aren’t we?” she whispers when she pulls back slightly.

“Probably,” he says. “So we should probably work on not getting caught.”

She laughs and the sound is something so precious, Jae wants to keep it in a bottle and take with him everywhere he goes. “I guess I should probably kiss you somewhere else, right?”

“Well, yeah.” Because the last thing he wants is to get kicked out of the band just because the really cute girl he wants to kiss wants to kiss him back.

Reluctantly, they move apart. Jae moves to leave first, smile on his face. He hates having to leave her here but he also feels that while he wants to help, this is something Celine would rather process on her own. Just because that’s the type of person she is. Introverted, and weird, and not-funny, but awesome anyway.

Awesome. And likes him back. Jae couldn’t stop smiling even if he tried.

They say goodbye with a potential for more, both of them anticipating next time. He’s filled with a sense of excitement, pushing it down enough only to make sure the happiness is evenly split between them. Celine smiles back as he turns back one last time. He can tell the frustration is still there— because it’s not something he can, or even will attempt, to fix— but she’ll be okay.

He’ll be her silence in between the chaos of sound.

 

He finds Celine busking at a spot they used to call theirs. She’s just about done, finishing her last song, and Jae gets this feeling that he knows her somehow. Like really know someone. But that’s ridiculous. It hasn’t even been that long, and they’re still figuring out how and where to go from the somewhere they haven’t decided on yet.

“You’re not very inconspicuous, if that’s what you’re going for,” she says, gesturing at Jae’s hoodie and face mask. “The glasses really give you away.”

Then she pushes up to her tiptoes, carefully slips the tortoise-shell frames off his face, and perches them on top of her cute button nose.

“They look better on you anyway,” Jae tells her, and he means it.

She bends down to pack up her mini-amps. “So what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

“I like the ambience,” he responds, very tongue-in-cheek.

“Ha-ha.”

She turns to him again, after she’s slipped her guitar bag over one shoulder and her amps on the other. Jae offers to help as he always does, and this time she lets him. But just the amp. The changes are small. It’s not like they’ll be holding hands soon, or that they’ve moved on from buying each other an extra sandwich or an extra coffee, but it’s a start. They could be friends first. As friendly as friends with potential could be. That’s fine.

Because at the end of the day, he hears in her music what she hears in his. And that’s all one could ever ask.