I see you exiting the booth, Seungri’s jaw is still slacked open in awe.

“How was it?” you ask, straight to me. Jiyong tries to hide his smile but I can’t hide my feelings. I wonder if you’re seeing it too, wrenched open on the floor around your heels like petals. I wonder if you’re seeing and ignoring it, or worse, running away from it. “What do you think about it?”

“Does it matter what I think?”

Your face falls and Seungri shifts quietly on his seat.

“It was great, hyung,” If I could, I would take back my quick respond. Judging from his gaze, Jiyong is ready to help my jump off of the building if I ever repeat my words. “Really, I like it.”

“Thanks,” you smile.

“I love it,” Seungri bounces to your side. “It’s great. The lyrics are so…sincere.”

“What do you think about it, Daesung?” Jiyong raise his voice. “Don’t you think it’s so sincere too?”

You don’t look up to see my face but I know you’re listening.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, swallowing the nails throbbing in my veins. “I love it.”

I’m sitting on the floor, tracing the number 1989 on the empty bottle of wine sitting in front of me. My glass is empty but not my head. I can hear your voice resounding from memories.

Maybe, the reason is because I see so much of me.

The insecurities in his eyes, the stutter of his voice, the trembling of his confidence.

Maybe, the reason is because he is the polar opposite.

The trust in his words, the sweetness in his messages, the love he finds in me.

Maybe

I shake the bottle frustratingly. There’s nothing left I can pour down to drown myself.

Was the song for me? Was the song about me?

Was it about you, trying to understand me?

“There was no reason,” I struggle to tell myself. “There was no love.”

Heartache is a noun, which in my case, has two eyes, a thin lips and a voice that resembles a shy grumble of a thunder. Its footsteps are light and full of surprise just as much as familiarity, one that I’ve catalogued and traced over times. It doesn’t matter if it is going away or coming closer, I’d recognize the pattern of the way you walk anywhere.

And your reaction when you see me already in the elevator; eyes go wide, mouth parts in surprise before it suppresses a smile that seeps out like hidden secret.

“What are you doing here?” you bounce on your feet beside me, the elevator door closes before us.

“What are you doing here?”

“Did you just talk back to your hyung?” you narrow your eyes but you would never be able to fool me, not with the surprise still written all over your face. Maybe you didn’t expect to see me here.

Could it be that you’ve been wishing to?

I laugh. “Just the same like why you’re here, hyung.”

“And why is that?” you check your wrist watch. You didn’t usually wear one unless it’s fashion. I bite my tongue before I can ask stupid question about your choice of accessories. It’s what I would do if we were just few years before.

“Why would you want to know?”

“Yah!