Today begins Sana’s first day of work.

Sana stands in front of the mirror, eyeing her reflection. Her hands button up her shirt as high as it goes. Then Sana takes a step back and scrutinizes her reflection, noting how uptight she looks. With the button done so high against her neck, Sana feels like she’s suffocating. Her hands go to the highest button. She breathes a little. It’s not like she looks totally unprofessional now.

...Does she?

Sana ponders on it for a bit.

Perhaps that’s not a risk she should take, especially on the first day.

So she rebuttons it, despite that uncomfortable suffocating feeling.

Then Sana heads out, with her coat over her arm and in her highest heels. She makes her way towards the train station for a ride to her work.

It’s early in the morning, but already, the streets are bustling with activity. Strangers walk around town, on their way to work or school or whatever they’ve got. Vehicles rush up and down the roads, not over the speed limit but seemingly with purpose and urgent destinations. House windows open, as families inside awake to another day. The leaves and flowers fall from trees, following the light breeze as they hit the ground and decorate the streets in an array of colors.

As Sana makes her way to the station, she notices something unusual—something you wouldn’t expect on a normal weekday morning.

Music.

Live music.

Sana stops, her ears searching for the direction of the source of the music. Subconsciously, her legs begin taking her towards the sound. So Sana takes a detour to her destination. She walks down an alleyway, where the busyness of the streets fades. As Sana escapes the busy streets, all she hears and notices is the music—the loneliness of the music but also, the sweetness of it. Bittersweet is the best way to describe it.

As Sana turns the corner out of the alleyway, she spots her. A street musician on a low wooden stool, a tattered guitar on her lap. She sings softly, her eyes closed as she concentrates on each note and lyric that comes out of . Her fingers strum the guitar carefully, as her other hand lands each chord with utmost precision. The music is soft and quiet in comparison to the loudness of the busy streets, and Sana wonders how she was able to hear it from quite a distance away. Sana, from where she stands some yards away from the musician, watches and listens carefully as she reaches the of the song and then, a few moments later, when she ends the piece.

As soon as she finishes, the musician opens her eyes, looking to the ground in silence. Sana, her only audience member (whom she hadn’t yet noticed), comes jogging towards her.

“You—” she breathes as she stops just in front of the musician.

“You play well,” Sana compliments as she looks up.

The musician looks up from the ground, finally meeting eyes with Sana. When they make eye contact, Sana smiles sweetly. The musician responds by raising an eyebrow questioningly. Then she chuckles a little.

“Appreciate the compliment,” she replies.

“Though it’d sound better in cash,” she adds, indicating to the ground between them.

Sana looks down. That’s when she notices the open guitar case—mostly empty, save for the single note and few coins scattered about.

Then Sana puts two and two together.

Oh, that’s why she’s here.

And that’s why her music sounds so lonely.

“O-Oh, of course.” Sana opens her bag and sifts through it for her wallet. Once she takes out her wallet, she searches for a good amount of money to give to the street musician. She tosses a few notes in, much to the musician’s appreciation.

“Been here long?” Sana asks. She’s trying to make small talk. Perhaps because she’s curious about this girl and her life.

“Uh– no,” the musician responds.

“How long will you be here?” Sana pesters.

The musician looks at her curiously.

“Don’t you have work?” she asks, observing Sana’s attire.

“Oh... Yeah.”

The musician and Sana stare at each other quietly for a moment.

“Then, I should go,” Sana says.

“Okay.”

Sana stays momentarily. As she’s about to turn and leave, the musician says one more thing.

“Have a good day at work,” she says.

Sana stops. Her hand goes to her collar—to the highest button on her shirt.

“Thanks. You have a good day as well,” Sana says quietly before leaving.

Then she heads back to the train station and towards work. There’s a new bounce in her step since her top button is now undone, allowing her to breathe a little.

 

~~~

 

It’s evening now.

As the sun nears the end of its descent to the horizon, the activity on the streets decreases. Working men and women head home after a long day of work, some to families awaiting them at home while others head home to other reasons—pets, housemates.

Sana doesn’t have anyone to come home to. She lives alone, no pets or housemates. Her parents and grandmother, her only family, live in Japan.

When Sana exits the train after her long day at work, she doesn’t think about immediately going home. She thinks about that street musician and her lonely music. Maybe Sana approached her in the morning because the lonely tone spoke to her and her current situation. And seeing her only confirmed how alike their situations were.

Loneliness is an awful feeling.

Maybe that could be fixed for the both of them.

When Sana exits the train station, her ears immediately search for the lonely music. But she hears nothing. The music she heard in the morning has disappeared. Nevertheless, Sana turns and walks, towards where the girl had been in the morning.

When she arrives, she notices she’s still there. She’s off the stool, kneeling on the ground and over her open guitar case. As Sana approaches, she notices that the girl is carefully counting each note—and it seems like she hadn’t earned that much more in the several hours that Sana worked.

“Hi,” Sana greets timidly.

The girl looks up, surprised by Sana’s presence.

“You’re the girl from this morning,” she observes.

“Yeah,” Sana replies.

“Why did—” She stops.

They look at each other pensively for a moment.

“Actually, nevermind,” she says instead, looking back down to continue counting.

An awkward silence ensues.

“U-Um... Are you done?” Sana asks, although it’s quite obvious she is.

“...Yes,” she replies.

Sana frowns, a little upset that the girl is now packing to leave.

“Can I request something?” Sana suddenly asks, taking a step forward.

The girl pauses before slowly looking back up at Sana, an eyebrow raised.

“I told you, I’m done,” she says, “And, I don’t take requests.”

Sana takes a step back. The musician seem insistent on keeping a distance from Sana, based off of her slightly cold tone.

But isn’t that how it is when you’ve been lonely for too long? You’re afraid to openly trust others and let them into your life?

Sana gets it.

As the street musician continues counting her notes, she startles as she observes a note of heavy worth fall into her case. She looks up, meeting eyes with Sana.

“How about now?” Sana asks.

“You’re persistent,” the musician observes.

“So I’m told,” Sana says with a smug smile on her face.

“Why?”

Sana is surprised by the question, and curse her because it definitely shows on her face.

“I just wanna request something, that’s all.” Sana shyly scratches the back of her head. “And I like how you sing.”

The musician stares quietly and pensively at Sana. There’s a curious look on her face.

She’s cute. Like a puppy begging for a treat—a proper answer, because the one Sana gave seemed too shallow. It’s more than “I like how you sing,” and the musician can tell. Though Sana isn’t ready to admit it. She isn’t ready to admit that she’s just like the musician.

Lonely.

The musician sighs, very dramatically if you asked Sana.

“Okay, fine,” she says, giving in.

The musician stands, placing the guitar strap over her shoulder. “What would you like to hear, miss?” she asks as she makes herself comfortable on the stool behind her.

“Hmm... I’ve been into IU lately. So, anything by her, or anything that she’s covered,” Sana responds, a wide smile on her face.

“Hm.” The musician rubs her chin. “Okay. But please don’t expect me to sing as well as IU.”

Sana chuckles. “I’m sure you’ll sing just fine.”

When the musician utters the first word of the piece, Sana’s smile disappears. She knows the song, but it’s not one so cheery.

“Through the Night”.

As the musician sings, both her voice and sound of the guitar soft and quiet, Sana listens carefully. To every note. To every word.

And it speaks volumes to her.

Sana doesn’t know how, but the lyrics hurt her. The lyrics that speak of distant love—love that aches—somehow enters Sana’s chest and straight to her heart. And it hurts so badly.

But why?

Besides her family, Sana doesn’t have anyone she misses enough to find the lyrics relatable.

No, this love is different from familial.

It’s romantic.

It’s new.

It’s foreign.

When the musician enters the final chorus of the piece, Sana wipes the tears that have come onto her face.

The musician’s only audience claps loudly as she finishes. She looks to see Sana smiling widely, unusually joyful—but it’s just so Sana can hide that she was just crying.

“That was very good,” she says in complete awe.

“Okay, thank you, but I should get going,” the girl says as she steps off the stool and continues sorting through the money.

“Um, can I get your name?” Sana asks timidly.

“It’s really not that necessary for us to exchange names or any sort of information,” she replies.

There’s that wall she’s trying to put up again.

“I–...” Sana begins to object. Then she sighs, “I guess you’re right.”

At the dejected tone of Sana’s reply, the musician looks up.

“Sorry, miss,” she says, scratching the back of her head, sincerely apologetic, “But I’m here for money. Nothing more.”

“Then, how about a note for your name?” Sana takes a note from her wallet and holds it to her.

The girl raises an eyebrow. “You’re... very persistent.”

“Yes, this has been concluded,” Sana responds, giggling. She shakes the note between them, eager for the girl’s name.

“...Alright.” The musician stands. “You got me there, stranger. The name’s Kim Dahyun.”

“Kim Dahyun,” Sana repeats. Then she looks quietly at her, waiting. “Are you going to ask for my name?”

“This won’t be the last time I see you?”

“I’ll make sure it isn’t.”

Dahyun nods slowly. “Very well. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

“Sana. Minatozaki Sana.”

“Then, I’ll see you again tomorrow, Miss Sana?” Dahyun asks with a shy smile.

“And every day after.”

 

~~~

 

For the next few days, Sana comes to see the musician, before and after work. Every time she comes in the evening, the musician is patiently waiting, saving an encore for her—in exchange for extra money from Sana, of course. She always plays IU for each encore; sometimes they’re cheerful songs, but other times, not so cheerful. But nothing could get Sana feeling the way she did that first day. And she still couldn’t place why that was the case.

Each day, Sana notices something new about the musician.

Tuesday, she noticed how white Dahyun’s skin was. Its ivory color glowed under the rays of the sun during the daytime and under the dim street lights during the evening. It made her seem ethereal and almost unreal to Sana. And geez, she had such good skin that it tempted Sana. To touch her, and feel the softness of her skin under her fingertips. This temptation to touch the musician confused Sana, so she didn’t allow it to fully manifest within her.

Wednesday, she noticed the contrast of Dahyun’s golden hair against her ivory skin. Her hair seemed to naturally rest beautifully on her shoulders, chest, and back. Whenever she was about to perform, she’d use her hand to move her hair from her face. When she looked back down to her guitar, her hair would just fall over her face again. Whenever this happened, Sana wanted to move Dahyun’s hair behind her ear to help. But she refrained.

Thursday, she noticed Dahyun’s eyes. To someone else, they would’ve looked simple—dark. But Sana had the privilege of seeing Dahyun’s eyes under the light of the sun, where they glowed bronze. But that wasn’t the best part of them. The clarity of Dahyun’s eyes in these cases made Sana feel like she could see right through the musician. At her loneliness. And Sana wanted to hug her and tell her it’s okay. To tell her that she would always have Sana and wouldn’t have to feel so lonely anymore. But Sana kept her distance from the musician.

Friday, she noticed Dahyun’s smile. At first, the sight of Dahyun’s smile lifted her heart with joy. Her eyes always seemed to smile with her lips and Sana found that fascinating and sweet. But the more she observed Dahyun’s smile, the more she understood how it was more bitter than sweet. Like the smile was always forced. Sana understood, because she often wore that smile on her face as well. But ever since she had met the musician, her smiles became more genuine. And she wanted that for Dahyun.

So she decides to act.

After the encore that Friday evening, Sana tries something new.

As Dahyun finishes the piece, she finds it peculiar when Sana doesn’t clap. So she looks up curiously, only to see her staring back with a pensive look on her face.

“Did I not do well that time?” Dahyun asks, shyly scratching the back of her head.

“You did beautifully, as usual. I was just thinking,” Sana replies.

“About?”

“Well, um...” Sana pauses, “Would you be in the mood for... um... karaoke?“

“Karaoke?” Dahyun repeats, as if to clarify if what she heard was correct.

“Yes,” Sana responds timidly.

“O-Oh...” Dahyun pauses for a short moment.

She scratches the back of her head.

“I sing all day and you’re asking if I’d like to go to karaoke?” Dahyun asks, an eyebrow raised.

“I-uh...” Sana kicks the floor lightly, anxious. “I guess that’d be too much, huh?”

Dahyun nods slightly. “I’m sorry. I’m just so drained already.”

“I understand.” Sana looks down, a little dejected.

Dahyun notices Sana sulking—somehow, she always notices when Sana is unhappy.

“Another night, maybe,” she offers suddenly.

Sana looks up from the ground, a wide grin on her face. “Another night? I’ll hold you to it!” She points her index finger at Dahyun’s nose.

“Eh?” Dahyun backs away, mostly confused but also slightly terrified—by that hysterical look on her face. “Err– okay. Yeah.”

Sana’s grin softens into a thin smile. “Okay.”

If the musician wants to wait, then Sana will. As long as the day should come that she heals Dahyun of whatever burden weighs her down.

“Can I at least walk you back tonight?” Sana offers.

“Back?”

“To your house.”

“To my–,” Dahyun pauses, “oh...”

Then she chuckles softly.

It’s the first time Sana’s heard her chuckle, but already she can’t get it out of her head. It’s more addictive than any song lyric in her head could be.

It just sounds so... pure...?

“I feel like you won’t take no for an answer this time.”

Sana nods. “You’re right.”

“My house is quite a walk though?” Dahyun warns.

“Then we’ll have a long chat on the way there.” Sana winks at Dahyun.

“A long chat?”

“I wanna know about you, Dahyun,” Sana says honestly.

Dahyun eyes her curiously, as she always does. “Very well, stranger.”

Sana raises an eyebrow, taken aback. “I think that we’re hardly strangers now.”

Dahyun shrugs. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“And...” Dahyun scratches her chin, a grin on her face. “You’re also very strange so I think it’s fitting.”

“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.” Sana flicks her hair over her shoulder and begins walking towards the alleyway she came in through. She struts away from Dahyun, who only stares questioningly.

“Um, my house is this way,” Dahyun mumbles, pointing in the opposite direction.

“Oh.” Sana turns. “You should lead the way then.”

“I was about to...” Dahyun shakes her head at Sana, who only smiles innocently. Then Dahyun laughs, much to Sana’s surprise. “I was right.”

“What?”

Dahyun points her finger at Sana. “Straaaange.”

Sana giggles. “Whatever.”

Sana walks beside Dahyun, who leads them both to her home. They walk silently, the only sound coming from the light breeze and the cars in the far distance. Sana’s silent, although there’s so much she wants to ask.

“One question,” Dahyun suddenly says, breaking up the silence.

Sana looks over at Dahyun, who continues looking forward. “One?”

“We’re still strangers.” Dahyun turns to look back at Sana. “My mom told me I shouldn’t even talk to strangers.”

“We’ve known each other for a week, I can’t believe we’re still strangers to you,” Sana complains.

“What did you hope we’d be?” Dahyun asks. Her words make it seem like she’s a heartbreaker for a living, but her voice asked the question so gently.

“Acquaintances, at least?”

“Ah, but the way I see it, people are either strangers or friends. There’s no in between.”

Sana whines, “Isn’t that a very cynical way of thinking?”

“Maybe,” Dahyun sighs. Then she stops, forcing Sana to a halt just a little ahead of her.

“What’s wrong?” Sana asks, turning to Dahyun and giving her her full attention.

“Is that your question?”

“...Yes.”

Dahyun raises an eyebrow. “You usually ask so many questions and pester me, but when I give you a chance to ask any question you want, that’s what you go with?

“Maybe you think it’s simple. I think it could provide me with very substantial answers. Answers that’ll tell me more about who you are.”

Sana notices Dahyun’s eyes dilate in surprise at the comment before she breaks eye contact to look down at the ground between them.

“I don’t know how but you always manage to see right through me,” Dahyun sighs again, “And I can’t seem to figure who you are other than ‘strange’.”

She’s trying to avoid the question, and Sana notices it.

“Dahyun, answer the question,” Sana says seriously.

Dahyun scratches the back of her head, hesitating to answer Sana’s personal question.

“I hate singing everyday,” Dahyun says, “I actually do love music and all, that’s why I did it in the first place... But whenever I go out and sing on the streets, it’s discouraging. The reward I get for what I do amounts to nothing. I thought people appreciate the arts. I thought people appreciate music. Or if not, I thought people would be willing to help.”

Dahyun looks up, her sad eyes meeting Sana’s pitiful ones. “But no, people care more about keeping money in their pockets.”

She groans as she looks up at the sky, seemingly annoyed and irritated.

“I really feel like I’m at the lowest of low,” Dahyun adds.

As Sana opens to try to console Dahyun, the musician surprises her by suddenly pumping her fists into the air.

“I’ll bring myself up from this,” Dahyun says, her voice full of resolve, “All it takes is time and effort.”

Sana stares quietly, shocked by the sudden change in Dahyun’s mentality. She watches as Dahyun lowers her hands, a bitter tight-lipped smile on her face.

“Then..., I can– I can live... maybe...” she murmurs.

Dahyun pauses. She slowly and hesitantly meets eyes with Sana.

“Live louder. Maybe that makes no sense, but that’s what I wanna do.”

Sana notices the wistful but pained and defeated look on Dahyun’s face, and Sana frowns in sadness.

Dahyun doesn’t wholeheartedly believe in that, and Sana can tell.

So Sana doesn’t hold herself back from reaching forward and placing a hand on Dahyun’s. Dahyun slightly jumps at the contact; but, she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she looks curiously at Sana’s firm hand on hers.

With that touch, Sana tries to tell Dahyun that she’ll be her support. That whatever she’s facing, she doesn’t have to face alone.

It’s weird.

Dahyun’s hand isn’t as soft as Sana expected. It’s rough, Sana presumes from playing the guitar from sunrise to sunset everyday.

She works so hard, in the modest hope that she could just live—not survive, but thrive.

To have such a strong mind after being discouraged so many times; it’s admirable, Sana thinks.

“Then live louder you will!” Sana exclaims enthusiastically.

Dahyun stares quietly at Sana before exhaling a single outburst of laughter.

“It doesn’t make sense, huh?”

Sana, with that wide smile still on her face, shakes her head. “Nope!”

Dahyun laughs, bringing a hand to cover as she laughs rather obnoxiously and quite loudly. It’s different from the chuckle earlier. It’s more free.

As Dahyun laughs, she keeps the hand that’s nestled in Sana’s at her side.

The rest of the walk is silent.

But Sana’s not complaining, because for the rest of the walk, Dahyun’s hand remains in Sana’s. Her hand’s rough, but warm and comfortable nevertheless. Sana may be the one holding Dahyun’s hand, but she can’t help but feel comforted in return.

They stop in front of a humble motel, Dahyun’s ‘home’—although it doesn’t seem all that home-y so Sana.

“This is it,” Dahyun says, using her opposite hand to dramatically present her dwelling.

“You told me the walk was long.” Sana tilts her head.

“Well, it was, wasn’t it?”

Sana shrugs, looking down at their clasped hands. “I could hold your hand longer.”

Dahyun immediately blushes, quickly pulling her hand from Sana’s. The musician stands with both of her hands tight against her chest, a hysterical expression on her face.

She opens to counter, but nothing comes out. When she decides she has nothing to say in response, she closes , agitated.

“Next Friday, take a break and come to karaoke with me,” Sana commands.

Dahyun halts at the sudden request. “But, I can’t afford to take a break.”

“Yes, you can.” Sana steps forward, placing a firm finger against Dahyun’s chest. “If you allow yourself to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sana grins. “It means ‘Meet me at our usual spot, usual time, Friday evening’.”

“Wha—“

“It’s a date.” Sana winks at Dahyun. “Don’t stand me up, Dahyun.”

Dahyun sighs. “Very well... stranger.”

Maybe karaoke is actually the perfect idea.

Maybe it could teach the musician how to love what she does once again.

Maybe then she could begin to learn how to live better.

 

~~~

 

Every evening up to Friday, Sana accompanies Dahyun home. Dahyun still gives her one question to ask, and Sana complies. Sometimes they’re deep questions, other times, not so deep. One day, she asked for Dahyun’s favorite color. Dahyun, who was expecting a personal question, was unable to answer it because she was too busy laughing.

Despite getting the opportunity to spend a lot of quality time with one another, Dahyun would still insist on calling Sana a stranger. Trust is hard to come by; Sana presumes the musician lives by that, or something similar at least.

Sana felt like Friday took centuries to come.

When Friday morning came, she stood in front of the mirror, getting ready for work as usual. But she paid particular attention to how she looked and smelled than usual. Even though she still looked like a woman heading out for work.

Sana felt relieved when she didn’t hear Dahyun’s music that morning; it meant she was taking that break that Sana suggested.

After work, Sana immediately heads for the spot the planned to meet at—where Dahyun sings everyday.

When she arrives, the musician is standing there, leaning against the wall of a building.

“You’re here early,” Sana observes as she approaches.

“Ah.” Dahyun stands straight from the wall, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t wanna keep you waiting.”

“How charming of you.” Sana pokes Dahyun’s shoulder playfully.

Dahyun retaliates, brushing Sana’s hand away. “Ch-Charming?” she pouts, “Not charming, just nice.”

“Whatever you say~.”

“A-Anyway!” Dahyun crosses her arms over her chest, furrowing her eyebrows in a desperate attempt to stop blushing, “Let’s go to this karaoke place!”

“Okay, just follow me, sweetie,” Sana says, walking ahead of Dahyun.

“Sweetie? When did I get promoted to sweetie?” Dahyun asks curiously as she follows behind.

“While you were still calling me stranger.” Sana looks over at Dahyun and pouts.

Dahyun slightly chuckles. “Still not gonna let that go?”

“Not until you start calling me a friend.”

“Hm, soon maybe.” Dahyun grins. “Unless you screw up this date.”

“Oh honey, not gonna happen.”

“Now it’s honey?”

“You’re a lot of things to me, Dahyun-ah,” Sana says honestly as she looks forward, pulling her gaze from Dahyun.

By the fact that Dahyun doesn’t respond, Sana assumes her words have gotten the musician flustered. But she wouldn’t dare look to see Dahyun’s expression, because she too was a little taken aback by her words.

They reached the karaoke place quicker than they had expected. Soon enough, Dahyun and Sana found themselves on the couch of a small karaoke room. It was quiet, despite being in a karaoke place.

“You should start,” Sana says to Dahyun, who is sitting beside her and scrolling through the list of music.

“Okay, I guess,” Dahyun replies hesitantly, “What song though?”

“A fun one!”

Dahyun purses her lips as she looks through the list of songs. Instead of looking over the list with Dahyun, Sana stares at the girl beside her.

She has these little habits that Sana notices. Like how she bites her bottom lip or sticks out her tongue when she’s concentrating.

It’s cute but also sultry? And what’s worse is Dahyun doesn’t even realize it.

She just does things to Sana.

When Dahyun sings to Sana, she puts Sana’s heart at ease.

When Dahyun looks at Sana, she makes Sana’s body temperature rise.

When Dahyun smiles at Sana, she gives Sana the world.

She does all that and more.

Is that weird? If someone does all that to you with simple things like singing, looking, or smiling, is that weird? If someone can get your knees weak just by holding your hand, is that weird?

Sana doesn’t know.

Maybe she is strange like the musician says.

“How about Gashina?”

The musician’s words snap Sana back to reality. She stares quietly at Dahyun, unresponsive, as Dahyun looks back. Sana gets flustered—from being caught staring or from Dahyun’s heavy gaze on her, she doesn’t know.

“Um...” Dahyun shyly scratches her head.

“Uh, yeah. Gashina sounds good.” Sana smiles. “I can’t imagine you singing Gashina though.”

“It’s what girls my age listen to, so I think I’d give it a try.”

“I’ll root you on!” Sana says, standing.

And so their karaoke date goes like this:

Dahyun picks a fun song to sing, typically a popular song with chorerography. Then she sings, always both excitedly and wholeheartedly, sometimes while skipping in place. Sana stands beside her and dances as much of the choreography as she knows, while holding a second microphone to and adding random interjections.

“YES, I WANT SOME—“

“NEW FACE!” Sana screams into her microphone.

“NEW FACE. NEW FACE. NEW NEW. NEW FACE. NEW FACE. NEW FACE. NEW NEW. NEW FACE,” the two of them chant while doing the choreography facing each other.

“EYYYY WE WANT SOME NEW FACE!”

This is the second song that Dahyun has chosen that contains rap lines, the first one being Love Scenario. Sana would have never expected Dahyun to be great at rapping, but she was phenomenal. It’s like rapping is her second skin, that’s how good she is. She’s been a bundle of surprises tonight.

After a countless string of songs, Sana and Dahyun simultaneously drop to the couch behind them, stripped of energy. They breathe heavily, gasping for bits of air.

“Fun,” Dahyun says, smiling to the ceiling, “This was fun.”

“Ah~ that’s good,” Sana responds, smiling as well.

“You should sing,” Dahyun suggests. She hands the remote to Sana, who takes it slowly.

“Ehh... I don’t know...” Sana grimaces.

Dahyun nudges her shoulder playfully. “C’mon, you have nothing to worry about. It’s just me. And we’re singing for fun so don’t worry!”

“Hm, okay.” Sana sits forward and then proceeds to scroll through the set list.

“Turtle? By TWICE?” Sana says, looking over her shoulder and at Dahyun.

Dahyun shrugs. “Go right ahead.”

So she does. It’s her opportunity to sing for the musician.

When she begins to sing, she notices Dahyun’s surprised expression. Her expression shows that Sana has exceeded the musician’s expectations, whatever they were. So, while Sana sings, Dahyun listens, her ears taking in every beat and pitch.

But that’s not what Sana wants the musician to hear.

Sana wants the musician to listen to the lyrics, comparing a situation to that of the turtle and the hare, in which one is far more eager to advance a relationship than the other is.

Maybe the lyrics are more romantic than Sana intends, but she does mean what she sings to an extent—the thoughts, the tone, the feeling.

When Sana finishes the piece, Dahyun claps wildly. She has a huge smile on her face, one bigger than any smile Sana had seen before.

“Wow! You’re very good at singing!”

Unfortunately, it seems Dahyun only paid attention to Sana’s voice. Well, maybe that’s not too bad.

“Thank you,” Sana says. A blush comes onto her face, one she cannot shake off. “Okay, but that’s the first and last song I’ll sing tonight.”

“Aw,” Dahyun pouts, “Really?”

“Yes really. I’m not all that confident in my voice.”

Dahyun place a hand on her shoulder, surprising Sana. “Well, you should be! You’re very good! There’s something about your voice that sounds so...”

Dahyun pauses, searching for the correct words.

“...soulful,” she finally says.

Sana notices the smile disappear from Dahyun’s face as she deciphers the meaning of the song, though mostly through the tone of Sana’s voice as she sang rather than the lyrics.

“Dahyun-ah.”

“Hm?”

“Tonight, did you live louder?”

Dahyun looks up and at Sana for a moment before responding. “I feel like I’m living more than ever right now,” Dahyun chuckles, “And it’s thanks to you... Sana.”

“Ah?” Sana raises an eyebrow. “So it’s Sana now? No honorifics even? Wowww.”

“Eh? Should I be calling you Sana-unnie?”

Sana shrugs. “Call me whatever you want as long as it’s not stranger.”

“Okay, okay,” Dahyun says, waving her hands in front of her.

They spend another hour at the karaoke place—now varying more between dance pop songs and soulful, more lyrical songs—before calling it a night.

Sana escorts Dahyun home. Instead of the usual evenings where Sana would ask one question for Dahyun to answer, they talk about the date the whole way.

Sana wishes the night could have gone on forever. Just an eternity of them two in a karaoke room, singing through an endless list of songs. Sana honestly wouldn’t mind it. In her lonely world, all she needs is Dahyun to feel secure.

And Sana’s glad. She’s glad that Dahyun promoted her from a stranger to... well... Sana. But most of all, she’s glad that Dahyun enjoyed the night, and tasted what it felt like to live louder.

 

~~~

 

Dahyun’s encores for Sana are different now. She always sings cheery songs with energy and excitement instead. Sana always dances while Dahyun sings.

Then she escorts Dahyun home. Sana still sticks to asking only one question. She’s come to figure that it’s enough.

“Why don’t you find a job here?” Sana asks one day.

“No place would hire me,” Dahyun mumbles.

“Sure they would! You’re a hard worker and it shows.” Sana places her palm over her chest. “I, for one, admire you greatly.”

Dahyun smiles, although it’s a little forced. “Thank you, but in this town, no one cares about a poor little street musician. No one cares for ambition. It’s either you’ve got experience, connections, or money. That’s how you get by here. I lack all of those things, Sana.”

Sana doesn’t respond. She can’t, because Dahyun spoke the truth unfortunately. It was hard enough for Sana herself, who already had prior experience working, to find a good stable job like the one she has.

She should’ve seen it coming when Dahyun tells her something one morning.

It’s Tuesday morning, Sana’s one free day. The both of them are quiet at the start of their little coffee date, silently enjoying their coffee in the early morning.

As Sana takes a small sip of her coffee, Dahyun speaks up, her voice quiet.

“I‘ve made enough money.”

Sana raises her eyebrow as she takes the cup from her lips. “Enough money for what?”

“Oh, I never told you, huh?” Dahyun looks down, twirling the cup in her hand.

Sana stares quietly at Dahyun. “Tell me now then,” she commands.

Dahyun sips her coffee, seemingly hesitant. As she sets her cup back on the table, she exhales deeply, preparing her next words.

“I’m going to leave,” Dahyun murmurs, her eyes avoiding Sana.

Sana’s heart drops.

Of all the things Dahyun could say, she never would have expected that.

“What?” Sana exhales.

“Ever since I started singing on the street, it’s been my plan to make enough money to leave and start a life elsewhere,” Dahyun explains.

“Where will you go?”

“Anywhere but here. Anywhere I have a chance.”

“A chance?”

“A chance to get a job and finally live,” Dahyun replies.

Sana looks down at her drink, unable to respond.

It wasn’t enough then?

The moments Dahyun had spent with Sana weren’t enough?

Walking home with her. Going out to karaoke with her. Singing and dancing with her. Conversing with her.

Just meeting her...

Or... Just being with her...

For Sana, living meant just being with Dahyun.

And she thought it was the same for Dahyun.

Perhaps not then.

Sana, who had been able to read Dahyun countless times, didn’t see this coming.

And it hurts.

Sana’s heart hurts.

All this time, she thought Dahyun could never make her heart hurt.

“When?” Sana refrains from arguing.

“Friday,” Dahyun answers, “I’ll take the train this Friday evening.”

That’s in three days. Sana was only able to spend four weeks with the musician. It wasn’t enough. No time besides eternity would be enough.

“Okay...”

Dahyun notices the pained look on Sana’s face.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you earlier,” Dahyun apologizes.

That’s not why Sana’s upset. Though she couldn’t tell the musician.

Why can’t she ever open herself up to the musician? Why does she always hesitate around her?

She couldn’t tell the musician why she approached her that first day. She couldn’t tell the musician why she came back. She couldn’t tell the musician why she was always so persistent. She couldn’t tell the musician why she was so curious about her. 

And now, she can’t tell the musician that she wants her to stay.

“At least let me see you off,” Sana insists.

Dahyun smiles softly. “I will wait for you.”

“You will?” Sana asks to confirm.

“Of course. I think it’s fitting that you’d be the last face I see before I leave.”

“Why’s that?” Sana asks.

“You’ve been a big part of my life here,” Dahyun replies honestly, her voice unwavering.

“I’m glad you came into my life.” Dahyun reaches over the table, placing a hand on Sana’s.

Sana smiles back, but it’s forced. As much as the statement makes her happy, she can’t help but think it bittersweet.

“I’ll see you Friday then,” Sana says.

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

~~~

 

Friday comes too soon. Despite her sleepless nights, Sana still thinks the days went by too quickly. Each day leading up to Friday, Sana still goes out to see the musician before and after work, listens to an encore, and then escorts Dahyun home—as per the usual routine.

But it’s not the same.

It couldn’t have the same effect, not while Sana always has the fact that Dahyun will leave on the back of her mind. It remains on her mind all day each day, from the early hour when she wakes to past the dead of night when she sleeps (or tries to).

Sana feigns excitement and joy while Dahyun sings, or while she talks about what plans she has for when she leaves this wretched town. Sana pretends everything is okay. She has to. She doesn’t want to discourage the musician from her journey. She wants to support Dahyun until the end.

But Sana knows there’s a selfish part of her that wants to keep the musician from leaving.

Selfish, and she’s ashamed of it.

Sana tries to brush these thoughts away, however futile that may be.

So it’s Friday evening, Sana’s last night with the musician. She sits in the train heading back, arms crossed over her chest and obviously upset. She had tried to leave early to spend more time with Dahyun before she leaves; but it didn’t work in her favor.

She exits the train station in a rush, heading towards Dahyun’s ‘spot’.

When she arrives, Dahyun is there, sitting on the stool, the guitar case strapped over her back and a luggage at the foot of her stool. Seeing her packed to leave puts a knot in Sana’s stomach. It makes Sana realize how real all of this is—how the musician truly is leaving her.

“There you are.” Dahyun stands from her stool, approaching Sana. “I’ve been waiting.”

“Did you wait long?” Sana asks.

Dahyun shakes her head.

There’s a short moment of silence as the two stare at each other, trying to read each other’s thoughts.

“Let’s get going,” Sana says, averting her gaze from Dahyun, afraid of what the musician might see in her eyes.

“Yeah...”

With that, they leave for the train station. Sana walks through that alleyway for what’s probably going to be the last time.

The short walk to the train station is quiet and, to the both of them, solemn. Neither of them feel confident enough to speak up. Maybe that’s for the better, Sana thinks. She doesn’t want any unnecessary emotions to be brought up. Sana’s afraid to say anything—to let her selfish side take over.

She wants to keep smiling because she wants that to be the last image that Dahyun sees when she leaves.

And in return, she wants Dahyun’s smile to be the last thing she sees before the door closes in between them.

They arrive in front of the station shortly. Dahyun walks toward the gate, her eyes scanning over the train’s destinations—where her future may be. Sana walks up behind her. Her eyes never leave Dahyun, even as Dahyun looks elsewhere.

“I should go as far as the train takes me,” Dahyun says, “It would be a small town where I have a chance to live, right?”

Sana nods, releasing a small “yeah”.

“The city’s not for me unfortunately,” Dahyun mumbles. She turns to Sana, who immediately smiles when Dahyun faces her.

But Dahyun doesn’t smile back, because she knows. As usual, she notices something off about Sana’s mood. She always does.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Ah~, nothing of course,” Sana waves a dismissing hand in front of her face.

“You’re sad, I know.” Dahyun places a hand on Sana’s shoulder. “That’s okay. I’m sad too. You don’t have to force a smile when seeing me off.”

“I want my smile to be the last thing you see, at least,” Sana confesses.

A light red tint falls upon Dahyun’s cheeks.

“If you insist,” she says, pulling eye contact.

“I was just thinking.” Sana forces a chuckle. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been so generous with all the money I gave you.”

Dahyun shrugs, grinning. “Maybe. But it’s one of the few things you’ve done for me that I’ll never forget.”

“What’s the rest?” Sana asks curiously.

“You made me remember what it feels like to love singing. You made me remember what it feels like to have fun. You made my last month more than just bearable. ...Only to name a few.” Dahyun shyly scratches behind her ear.

It’s sad, Sana thinks, that she was able to do so much for Dahyun, and that Dahyun recognizes it, but that she still chooses to leave nevertheless.

Sana wants to respond to tell Dahyun how she feels about her in return. But she’s interrupted by the train that comes to a stop behind Dahyun, its brakes screeching as it halts. Dahyun looks over her shoulder and at the train, her ride out of this dreadful city.

“Better not miss it,” Dahyun says, looking back at Sana.

“Yeah...”

Sana shifts her weight, her smile wavering slightly as she looks down at the ground between them. It’s hard to smile in a situation like this.

“A hug before I go?” Dahyun asks, opening her arms.

Sana doesn’t hesitate before walking forward and wrapping her arms around the musician’s body. It’s the best she can do to hide the tears that are shining in her eyes.

Warm. Her body’s warm. Like the heat of her hand, it’s comfortable.

Sana holds the musician tightly, trying to engrave the feeling of her into her mind but also in fear of letting her go.

As they hold each other for the first and last time, Sana understands. As Dahyun’s heart beats hard against Sana’s, she understands.

She understands why the musician’s song for her that first day left such an impression on her. The song with lyrics that speak of distant love—love that aches. But most of all, lyrics that speak of the pain and the consequences of hidden love.

It’s romantic.

It’s new.

It’s foreign.

It’s painful.

A stranger in love was what she was, and despite the fact that her efforts in order to become something more to Dahyun had succeeded, it’s what she’ll continue to be as soon as Dahyun leaves and forgets about her as she enters her new life and abandons the old.

So Sana’s heart wavers between letting Dahyun go and begging her to stay. Sana knows that Dahyun’s opportunity to live out her life is elsewhere. But she also knows that she loves Dahyun.

Sana finally releases Dahyun.

There‘s a grimace on her lips and tears streaming down her cheeks—tears that she can’t hold in. No forced smile. Just an expression to show exactly how she feels.

Dahyun looks quietly at her, and at the tears on her face. It’s the first time she’s seen Sana so vulnerable and so... genuine...

“Please don’t cry,” Dahyun says quietly, reaching forward and using her thumbs to wipe the tears off Sana’s cheeks.

“Don’t leave,” Sana begs, as she places her hands around Dahyun’s wrists.

“I have to.” Dahyun averts her eyes. “There’s no life for me here.”

“I’m here,” Sana blurts out.

Dahyun stares quietly, trying to decipher Sana’s words.

But her words are as straightforward as she can make it. Sana feels like she’s lived her best life when she’s with Dahyun; she hopes it’s the same for the musician.

Dahyun’s wrong to leave. It’s not that Sana’s selfish when she wants her to stay. She’s always wanted the best for Dahyun, especially now.

A career doesn’t always define one’s life; sometimes, it’s the people that do.

Or it’s just one single person.

Sana’s life is Dahyun.

“I-I know you’re here,” Dahyun says quietly. She looks down, bringing her hands from Sana’s face down to her sides. “I know...”

“So stay,” Sana begs.

“I can’t.”

Sana looks quietly at Dahyun, who silently debates with herself. She hesitates to leave, and it seems to confuse her.

“One question,” Sana tells her.

Dahyun looks up. “One?”

“After this, we’ll be strangers. My mom told me I shouldn’t even talk to strangers.”

Dahyun chuckles, catching the clever statement. “Okay,” she says before stopping to ponder.

“Why do you want me to stay?” she asks.

Sana smiles, closing her eyes as she prepares her answer.

“Because I understand,” Sana says, opening her eyes.

“What do you understand?” Dahyun asks, confused.

“That’s two questions.” Sana raises an eyebrow.

Dahyun sighs in defeat.

A whistle blows, causing Dahyun to look back hastily. She then looks back at Sana, an expression on her face that tells Sana she’s awaiting something—anything.

“Just like the letters on the sand where waves were, I feel you’ll disappear to a far off place. I always miss you,” Sana recites.

“What?”

“You sang that to me that first night. It hurt so much to hear you say those words. I never could figure out why. But, as you’re about to leave me, I get it.”

“I still don’t get it,” Dahyun says, confused.

Sana inhales briefly, preparing herself for her next words.

“All the words in my heart, I can’t show them all to you.

But, it’s that I love you.

How can I be so lucky to have met you, who is a blessing?

If we’re together now, how great that would be.

Just like the letters on the sand where waves were, I feel you’ll disappear to a far off place.

I miss you again and miss you more.

In my diary, all the words, I can’t show them all to you.

It’s that I love you.”

Dahyun halts, speechless.

Sana, who hadn’t been able to speak her feelings to Dahyun, finally did. Through music. Music speaks volumes; it spoke for Sana then at the karaoke date, and it speaks for her again as she confesses.

The musician had to understand now. After all, music’s her second language, if not, her first.

“I—“ Dahyun can’t find her next words.

“Dahyun-ah, you said that one night that you felt like you were living more than ever. When I’m with you, I feel the same way. Yes, I have a job, but the lifestyle it’s provided me with is incomparable to the life I live when I’m with you.”

“And so, I wonder if you feel the same way,” Sana adds.

Dahyun looks back over her shoulder and at the train behind her. At her opportunity for a better life.

Better?

How so?

Money-wise? Job-wise? Career-wise?

She looks back at Sana, not as the woman who provided her with so many things this past month, but as someone who loves her. She looks at Sana as someone who gave her so much not because she was generous, but because she wanted to give her the world.

Does she get it now?

Does she see what Sana sees when she looks at her?

An opportunity for so much more than a plain life of routinely earning money to live the next day.

An opportunity to live louder than any other future could possibly grant her.

“I have enough money,” Dahyun blurts out.

“I know you do—“

“No,” Dahyun interrupts, “I mean—“

She pauses for a moment, hesitant as she often is.

The whistle blows a second time, but Dahyun doesn’t look back. She keeps her eyes on Sana. There’s something different about that look in her eyes. It’s harder to read now.

“To properly thank you,” Dahyun says, scratching the back of her head shyly.

Sana stares quietly, frozen and speechless.

“I should have enough to repay you for everything. We’ll start with karaoke,” Dahyun mumbles while rubbing her chin. “Tonight?” she asks, looking up.

That means she’s staying, right?

Instead of celebrating like a fool, Sana stays frozen. She wants to confirm that the musician is indeed staying before celebrating. Either that, or she’s too shocked and too happy to react properly.

“That means you’re staying?” Sana manages to ask in the midst of her mental panic.

Dahyun chuckles rather nervously. “I–... I guess I am...?”

The decision seemed to take her by storm as well.

“Karaoke’s expensive,” Sana warns, “You’ll be spending a good chunk of your money.”

“I thought you wanted me to stay,” Dahyun laughs.

“I-I do!” Sana argues. Maybe her voice sounds a little too desperate. “But why?” she asks, curious.

“You give me so much and I don’t give anything in return,” Dahyun explains, as if it were that simple, “I can do that now—give you something in return.”

Sana chuckles. “I’m in love with you, Dahyun. Just being with you is enough.”

“I wanna know what it feels like then,” Dahyun explains, “To give. Especially to someone you care about.”

Despite the blush on her cheeks, Dahyun’s face is filled with resolve—the same resolve from that night when Sana first walked Dahyun home. She looks up at Sana.

“I don’t want to spend my money on myself, Sana. I wanna spend it all on you. I wanna give you all that I can, even if it’s not much. No..., I wanna give you more than that. If my life is you, then the only thing I wanna put time and effort into is you.”

Dahyun’s confession comes out messy, but Sana gets it.

She gets it because her life is Dahyun, so she knows exactly what the musician means. She knows what it means to care for someone so much that they become your greatest priority. She knows what it means to love someone so much that their happiness is all that ever matters.

Before Sana can respond, Dahyun chuckles nervously. Sana only stares, confused as Dahyun’s eyes dart around in panic.

“M-Maybe that’s sudden? Saying that my life is you? A-and cheesy?” Dahyun stumbles over her words. “I don’t know, you just confessed and it kinda made me realize—“

She’s interrupted by a soft pair of lips against hers.

Sana doesn’t know what impelled her to kiss the musician. Maybe it’s happiness—joy, because Dahyun is staying and they’ll be able to spend the rest of their lives together, as long as Sana wills it.

The kiss is short—a peck really—but it’s enough to shut Dahyun up. And it’s enough to satisfy Sana.

Dahyun’s lips are soft, especially in contrast to her rough hands.

Sana pulls away after the brief kiss, a small smile on her face.

“You’re not cheesy until you recite song lyrics as a way to confess,” Sana jokes.

Dahyun stares at her, agape.

“You just kissed me,” Dahyun murmurs.

Sana laughs. “Why? Can’t believe it? You need another one?” Sana begins to lean forward towards the musician once more.

“W-What?!” Dahyun panics, waving her hands in front of her face and backing away. “N-No! I don’t need another one! Not now at least! ...—later, maybe.”

“It’s okay.” Sana grins. “I have a lifetime with you. That means many more kisses. And kisses even better than that.”

Dahyun’s face gets redder, and Sana didn’t think it possible for her pale face to become so red like this.

Dahyun can’t respond, and Sana can only laugh at her.

The doors on the train close. A short moment passes before a loud screech sounds as the train leaves the station. Dahyun looks back, at the empty space where the train had been.

“Karaoke then?” Dahyun asks, looking back at Sana, not fazed about the leaving train.

Sana chuckles. “Karaoke it is.”

She holds her hand out for Dahyun, who takes it into her hand without a second thought.

Sana’s grateful. All those moments with Dahyun that she had thought would be the last are here to stay, especially the simple things like just holding her hand.

“I’m surprised at myself,” Dahyun admits suddenly, “I knew I cared about you. I didn’t realize it was this much until I thought about all that I wanna be able to give you.”

“Love is giving, after all,” Sana explains, “More so than it is taking.”

Dahyun looks over at Sana, mouth hung open in surprise. “Wow. You’re so...”

She pauses, searching for the right word.

“Cheesy?” Sana tries to finish.

“Strange,” Dahyun says instead, which receives a slap from Sana.

“STRANGE?!” Sana exclaims.

“What?! It is! Reciting song lyrics is strange!”

“It’s not strange! It’s cute! Cute and cheesy! And smooth~.” Sana smirks.

Dahyun snickers loudly. “Smooth?”

“Yes! It’s smoother than your confession, by far.”

“Hey! My confession was great!”

“Meh.”

“MEH?!”

And so they were, bickering over which person had delivered the better confession as they made their way to the karaoke place, hand in hand. They bickered like a couple who had spent a lifetime with each other already. Maybe that wasn’t totally false though. Because if you asked Sana, life never really started until she met Dahyun.

And she’s glad. She’s glad not only at the fact that her life with Dahyun is able to continue, but also that the musician was able to recognize what it meant to truly live. It meant being with each other.

That night signified the start of a new life for the both of them.

A life with each other in it.

A life of living louder.

Maybe that made no sense to Sana then, but it makes a hell of a lot of sense now.