How do you start a band? 
 
It's actually pretty easy. Take a bunch of people you know, make sure that they're adequate with at least one instrument, and make them practice one song over and over again until they're almost synchronized. Just wait, eventually it won't sound too forced. Until all of you are comfortable with each other's skin. Hopefully, you may even find your own unique sound along the way.
 
When that's done, find a Chinese lady who owns a bar and beg her to let you play. You can use a good ol' sob story if you want to, maybe even flirt a little. No rules here. It doesn't even matter if she gives you one of the dead-er nights of the week. The important thing is that you're in, you're a band, you're playing.
 
Slap a name on that thing, maybe even a crowd-pleasing lead singer if you can find one, and at least one friend who will religiously cheer you on. Boom: Band assembled.
 
The hard part, as all other things, is finding a reason to start a band in the first place.
 
Some people do it for the sheer reason of wanting to have fun. Others for the love of art and music. There are even people who make it for nothing but the fortune and fame and glam and glitter.
 
For Henry, it was quite simple. It's because of a girl.
 
Her name is Amber Josephine Liu.
--
 
Contrary to popular belief, Kim Jongin is quite the talker. Granted, it's always whenever him and Soojung are alone, but he speaks, goddamn it.
 
Sometimes, Soojung even pretends to be asleep just so Jongin would shut up. He talks too much whenever he's over her place that it ruins her precious beauty sleep.
 
In one of those nights, Jongin asked her this: "Henry seems to really like Amber, doesn't he?" 
 
"Babe, you must have them confused. I know they dress alike, but that is an insult to Amber unnie's cute face."
 
"No, no. Bu-"
 
"Good night Jongin, I'm sleeping." 
 
So Jongin let that go, and forgot about it.
 
But if she gave him the chance to tell her the story, this is what he should've said:
 
It was a Thursday night, the band was gathered in the bar. Kim Jongin was a new part of the gang and has just been introduced a mere days ago, but he's fitting in nicely. It helps that Soojung's friends are drunk, like, 50% of the time. Like now.
 
Soojung and Amber just had an intense drinking game, which involved taking a shot every time their respective basketball teams made a score. Four quarters later and a 'Lebron James, you er!' from Amber, they were already both adequately drunk, slumped on the bar counter.
 
Jongin took Soojung and silently dragged her to his car, nodding to the rest of the group goodbye as they all dispersed in the parking lot. Amy and Eric went south, catching a taxi. Sunyoung, Kibum, and Kibum's current ‘companion’ who they never saw again after that night, went west. And a few minutes later, Henry sauntered into Jongin's car, a very much passed out Amber on his back.
 
"My car's being repaired and Amber's my ride, but that's not going to happen." He gestured to her. "Can we carpool with you? Her apartment's along the way I promise."
 
Jongin silently unlocks the door.
 
So they sat like that, in Jongin's car. Soojung sleeping in the passenger seat, muttering incoherent words every now and then, and the two best friends seating close at the back. When Jongin stopped at a red light, he made the cursory glance at his rearview mirror. He saw them, Henry and Amber. Her head had fallen unto his shoulders, and he was looking at her sleeping face. It was an expression that Jongin was quite unfamiliar with. But if he could put it into words, it would've been longing.
 
And then slowly, surely; Henry moved closer, placing a chaste kiss at the top of her head.
 
"Henry seems to really like Amber, doesn't he?"
--
 
It's almost too beautiful.
 
To be with her like this. In a familiar street, under a street lamp. His coat on her shoulder, her body pressed up unto his. Face millimeters in distance, chapped lips uncharacteristically close. Her hot breath against his skin, strong smell of alcohol and sweat and something underneath that's undeniably her.
 
She is looking up at him, eyes sparkling. The snow is starting to fall.
 
Any time now.
 
Any time now, and his heart is going to fall with the snow.
--
 
So Henry did remember, that one fateful December night.
 
It was after Kibum's party. Him and Amber have just spent the good half of an hour playing Blind Man's Bluff (rather badly, if his memory serves him right) on the stained sofa. The low lights and alcohol were doing something to her, he can almost feel her rapid heartbeat at the inside of her wrists. Beneath his palm, a steady rhythm of tump, tump, tump. Like the beat of her drums.
 
He remembers; the strand of hair on her cheek, the playing card on her forehead, flushed cheeks and parted lips. Her low voice as she said, "Take me home." 
 
Five minutes later, they were out of the house, Amber walking zig-zag across the almost empty streets with her arms on Henry's shoulder. She was shouting to every stranger that they pass through, sprouting out frank quips with a slurred language.
 
"You are quite honest tonight." And being a really heavy drunk, Henry thought.
 
"Did we have Soju? 'Cause you know Soju makes me honest, especially the ones with beer in the- Hey- bro, nice tie!"
 
Oh god.
 
Before Amber could embarrass him any further, he stopped a few meters from his dorm complex to let her breath. She is shivering through the cold, in her light jacket and almost-ironic Metallica shirt. It was close to the peak of winter, and he realized that they left her coat at Kibum's. So he removes his and wraps Amber with it.
 
"How gentleman of you, Lau."
 
"Just shut up or I swear I'm not going to hold your hair again if you vomit."
 
She squeezed his hamster cheeks. "Oh I know you'd still do it. Because you're a real friend. Have I ever told you how thankful I am that we're friends? Like, seriously man. You're probably the only guy who'll ever do that for me."
 
"Ouch, Amber my che-"
 
"At this rate I'm probably going to die alone." She said with this oddly blank look. By now, she has let go of her grip at his face, and was leaning against him for support.
 
He sighed, and muttered. "You have me, at least." But she doesn't seem to hear it.
 
"Look at me, do I look like someone any guy would want to kiss?"
 
"Don't say that Amber, of course someone out there would want that."
 
"You're just saying that because you are my friend. Name one person who'd want to kiss me. Right now, right here."
 
He took a deep breath, watching the white snow reflect on her iris. She was looking up to him with sparkling eyes, and he couldn't help but feel the skip of his heartbeat. 
 
"Me."
 
He lost his breath the second her lips touched his. One moment he was just staring at her eyes, and the next thing he knew they were kissing under the lamp post. It didn't even matter who had done it first, all he could think of was Amber pressed against him, her lips cold and chapped and urgent as they kissed. The flickering lights were making him dizzy, combined with the strong detergent of his coat and the alcohol in her tongue. 
 
Her fingers crawled up his arms to tangle itself to his hair. His own fingers softly touched her chin, her neck, the small space of her cheek, anywhere that he could possibly reach, savouring this moment as much as he could, holding her like a lifeline.
 
When they broke apart, they were both breathless, her long lashes touching her cheeks as her eyelids slowly fluttered close. He could see the soft wisps creating shadows on her flushed skin, and all he could think about was how something so small could be so beautiful.
 
She leaned against him as his other arm gripped her waist. She moved closer, mouth now tickling the sensitive skin of his ears, as she whispered his name, "Henry,"
 
"Yes?"
 
"I'm going to throw up again."
 
That was how Amber vomited all over her clothes. 
--
 
There are moments in Henry's life, when he wished time would just stand still. Just stop and stand there, halt the rotation of planets and the passage of time. 
 
Just stop and stare at the girl in his bedroom, glaring at him with suitcases in her hand. As if her Kings of Leon shirt wasn't enough to get him hooked, she even has his favourite Bach piece blasting through her headphones. 
 
They say love at first sight is a myth of the past, and yet there he was. He knew it the moment he saw her that maybe some things- like accidentally being assigned the same dorm room- were just simply meant to be. 
 
That was freshmen year, and he has been falling faster and harder ever since.
 
Now, he is six years older, a tad bit wiser, but still wishing for the same things. Stop the tick-tocking of that clock, the universe from revolving, the earth from spinning, the lights from blinking; just stay.
 
Stay and stare at Amber's face as she took a deep breath, right at the exact moment that she said; "I love you."
 
Sadly, that is not how the world works. Here, where time manipulation is imaginary, there is nothing but a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers, the cold midnight air, and him, in a dark alley at the back of a bar, alone.
 
He was woken from his trance by Dasom's small voice. "I didn't know you've taken up smoking." 
 
Dasom is bright, even with the low street lights. There was a sparkle in her eyes, in the way she smiled, that lights up even the darkest holes. He looked at her, with delicate hands stuffed inside the pockets of her jean jacket, so small and fragile, and his heart just breaks.
 
"Dasom, I think we need to talk." He said.
 
"I heard everything, what Amber said."
 
He looked at her in surprise, and she gave him a small smile.
 
"I figured out that much."
 
"I never really knew."
 
"That's just the thing, Henry. Maybe it was supposed to be like this. Maybe we had to meet so all of this could happen. So you could figure out what you really want."
 
What he really wants.
 
"Dasom, I-"
 
"Or maybe you've always known, but never really had the chance to overcome your fear.” She interrupted.  “Don’t do that. Don't say sorry, don't apologize for chasing after what you want. And don't worry-" She removed her hands from her pockets, up to her face, blocking her vision. Her smile was still eerily intact, a single scratch on an otherwise dark surface.
 
"This way I won't get hurt. But still I'd have to ask. Where are you going now?"
 
The night loomed overhead, stars speckled all over like dust. There is beautiful girl standing in front of him, asking him things that he couldn't possibly give, his heart tied up on his sleeves as the wind blew on his hair.
 
And in his hand, the cigarette burns bright orange, as the night closes in.
--
 
"Hello, Kibum?”

“Amber? Where have you been we were worried-“

“Hey, I'm going to L.A. Don't worry I'll be back as soon as I can, I just have some... Stuff to do and think about.”

“What? Amber don’t make rash decisions, where are you? I’m coming for you.”

“I- I just don’t to talk about it, okay? Tell the others not to worry, bye.” 
Pushing the end button, Amber didn’t even wait for Kibum’s reply. She stood in the middle of her room in her tank top and basketball shorts, clothes strewn in haphazardly in her trusty old suitcase that has been with her since her first day in Korea.
 
God ing damn it, the tears are threatening to fall again.
 
She face plants on her bed and loudly groans, sound muffled by her fluffy pillow. The scene is replaying over and over inside her head, right at the moment that she opened and sai-
 
Ugh. If the floor could just swallow her whole, right now would be the best time.

There are different courses of action that she could take right then: One, be the bro. Tell Henry it was all a prank, nudge him in the arm and laugh at the ‘How could you believe that, stupid! Hahahahaha’ line that she was going to say. Two, be the girl. Swear Henry off from the face of the earth, probably cry herself to an endless slumber and stuff her face with chocolate and alcohol.

And three, be the Amber Liu: the cynical romantic slash hopeless cynic. Run off to L.A., come back after five years, or until the time came that this moment will be a ‘Hey, remember when Amber told Henry her feelings, that was funny, right?’ 

She’s already in phase one of the Amber Liu route, pack her bags and book a flight back home. Although she maybe did a little stuffing her face and crying, but that’s beside the point.

She was interrupted from her self-loathing by a knock on her door, soft against the hardwood surface. Startled, she looked at the alarm clock perched on her bedside table and read that it was already almost 3 am in the morning.

“Who’s there?” she shouted, standing up from her bed to the doorframe. Whoever was on the other side didn’t answer though, and just knocked again. She sighed, submitting to unlocking her door. Kibum sure was fast for a man wearing Prada heels. (Plus, if she let him wait outside her door for another minute, she’s gonna get the special diva treatment and that is never a pretty sight)

“Hyung, if that is you I swear there is nothing you could do to convince m-“

Lo and behold.

He stood in her doorframe, a pink cap in place and his hand gripping the necks of two Budweisers. His dimple was marked in his cheek, as she smiled tight-lipped to her. He shook the bottles to her face. “3 A.M. beer for old time’s sake?” he asked.

She gripped her doorknob tighter to keep tears from falling. She was sure as hell not going to cry in front of him. “Goodbye, Henry.” She said, and proceeded to slam the door to his face and failed. His feet was faster than her reflexes as it kept the door from closing in on him.

“Come on Amber, at least let me talk? I never really got the chance to.”

She took a deep breath, and opened her door once again. “What is there to talk about Henry? It’s clear as ing daylight; I like you, and you don’t like me back. That’s my problem to fix and you can just continue on frolicking with your cotton candy girlfriend and let me move on with my li-“ he interrupts her with the beer bottle’s opening to her lips, the frothy drink dripping on her chin as she choked on her words. Henry just laughed, took her wrist and let her hold the drink, walked to her room like it was his and sat indian-style on the foot of the bed at the floor. He patted the space beside him and drank his own beer. 

“If you’re thinking about Dasom, she was the one who told me to come here.” At the end of his words, Amber couldn’t do anything but follow him suit.

There was silence after that, nothing but the sound of liquid sloshing against the glass and their occasional gulps filling the room. Up until both of them were halfway through their bottles, Henry decides to interrupt the silence.
 
"I'm sorry Amber." He said, and her chest drops. God, can he just be the jerk for once and leave her alone with her broken heart? 
 
"You don't have to say sorry, Henry. It's not your fault. It isn't your place to apologize for my feelings. Don't say sorry for that."
 
"But I'm not." 
 
"Then why are you here?"
 
"To apologize for not telling you that I remembered. Everything. The kiss, the beer, the street. Even your ironic Metallica shirt that you vomited all over, or the way your eyes fluttered as you slept amidst my Doraemon sheets.” He took a swig of his beer, letting the beer wash over his throat.

“I’m here to say sorry for pretending that that night didn’t happen. When I came back and you weren’t there- I- I don’t know. I was young, I was stupid. I didn’t think you like me like how you like me now, I was afraid. I’m sorry.

“Oh, and that I love you. Not as a friend this time.”

A smile played on his face, a little bit shy and red from the alcohol. When he looked at her, a similar smile was on her lips, eyes trained on his face.

“You’re still stupid.”

“Maybe I am, but I’m your very own stupid.” He said with a nudge to her arms.

She laughed, hands covering her pink-stained cheeks and glassy eyes. “Shut up.”

“So…”

“So?”

“Are you still going to quit?” he asked. Amber’s eyes automatically shifted to the crumpled up box of Camels on the floor near her trashcan, forgotten and motionless. “Smoking, probably yes. As for you,” she smiled. “We’ll see.”

He remembered it like it was yesterday, she was smiling like that. Slumped on his bean bag, a Rolling Stones magazine above her face as she read about Yoko Ono and Lennon, fascinated and childishly grinning. She looked towards him at his place on the bed, eyes sparkling. That was the day she asked him if they should start a band. 

If he had to retrace everything, how it came to this, he would always go back to that moment. Weird, I know, that he’d have to pick that uncharacteristic moment out of all that they’ve shared. And they’ve had plenty. They’ve gone through pain and fun, sickness and youthful health. Even the simple misunderstanding of a kiss. But he will always come back to that, when she asked him a question that forever changed his life. Because right then he knew, that he was ready to do anything just to be with her.

Be it share a band, a dorm room, a kiss, or just plain-old vanilla friendship- he doesn’t care. As long as he is with her. There are a lot of things that he’s not sure of in his life right now. But that much he knows.

Henry and Amber, ready to take over the world.

“And one more thing,”

“Yes?”

“The next time you want to kiss me, can you do it while I’m sober?”

“Are you still sober now?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Count 1,2,3. 

And so it goes, that that was how they kissed.
--
 

a/n: I feel like I have to apologize for all the ~cheesiness~. But still, thanks for reading!