two, Inevitable Blues

Theme - Ernesto Cortázar II - Beethoven's Silence

×

Pale blue skies at six when the sun is yet to rise, a cold breeze and the unrelenting urge of her eyes droop on the bus to work.

It's all in a morning for Irene, and she thinks she's a fool for expecting anything else. It’s a peculiarly calm hour from when she gets up to the moment she’s out the door, never in a rush to get to work; tranquillity.

The cycle repeats again, the bus engine warping into a cackling voice that sounds oddly similar to her own, she minds nothing of it and continues to rest her head on the glass window she's decided her personal secondary pillow.

The person beside her out of the blue dedicates his rendition of I Like That solely to her, she jerks at the I’m so fine, I’m so fine that resounds in her ear and decides not to make a fuss and wake the others in the train, (wait, wasn't she on a bus?) throwing a pointless glare to the man who doesn't look the least bit affected by it.

Roses wilt along the sides of the track as they pass by. They hold her attention for a minute.

She turns away uneasy.

“What are you doing with your life?” Asks the driver of the bus (train?) when they reach the shore of the East Sea, a stern look covering his face while Irene looks hopelessly to the sky for an answer. The blue is set ablaze as soon as it meets her uncertain gaze, then as time passes for what feels like a second, she sees her diploma burn in the flames—her qualifications of a degree in meteorology seem to have never existed, disappearing into the void, mirroring the vapours escaping into the endless blue—forgotten, lost to never be found again.

“How long are you going to live like this?”

One second,

Two.

Irene is on top of a cloud.

Falling, watching as the nine that marks it slowly fade—an illusion.

A sudden jerk back to reality.

“What the ,” she exhales, searching for her phone for a confirmation that she's no longer in a dream, wincing at the bright 4: 48 that illuminates her screen.

It's just a dream, a feeble reminder clouds her thoughts. No one’s questioning her career choices, no one’s brewing up a storm within the confines of her mind, no one’s placing the burden of the world on her shoulders.

It’s just a dream.

Her mind still clings on to the remnants of her dream against her will, she tries to forget but it keeps playing in her mind like a never-ending movie she’s forced to see.

A sigh fills the room; no matter how hard she wishes for sleep to visit her again, it never comes.

“Not even five hours, god,” She voices out to the walls, maybe they feel the least bit pity for her.

Irene isn’t the same teenager she was years ago, full of life, ambition, dreams; she’s just an adult regretting the choices she made in her life; not who the walls have seen succeed in her goals—rather a disappointed individual aimlessly trying to find the perfect direction to lead her life in. They’ve never seen her come crashing down yet.

If these walls could only talk; what would they ever say?

It’s 5: 14 when she decides to get out of bed. She goes upstairs, steps begrudging to the terrace and sits herself down on the sole chair that stands unbothered right at the centre of the terrace.

She feels all hazy and powerless for a while, she doesn't really know what to do this early in the morning. It feels like a waste of time to browse through her phone, it seems intruding if she were to blast her chill beats playlist literally at the rooftops of her town.

Like the sleepy houses surrounding her on all four sides, she decides it's best to remain unrelenting.

Idle.

The more she zones out the more the midnight blue of the sky gets brighter until the moment she sees the sun peek out from the horizon, hesitant as it rises and brings her back to the present.

The sky is doused the slightest bit yellow.

“Oh? Joohyun-ah?”

Her father’s sudden interruption to the silence startles her for a split second. She has half the mind to greet him a good morning, offering up the one seat to him but he silently declines.

“It’s not even seven, why are you up so early?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she breathes out.

She wonders out loud why her father himself is up so early, he replies with a discreet sunlight's good for the health.

“When are we going to leave?”

“It's going to take an hour and a half to get to Palgongsan, it's best if we go at ten o’clock.”

Irene hums in agreement, leaving her father to bask in the sunlight alone when the cold gets a bit too much for her.

As soon as she's out of her father's radar, Irene feels a huge weight being lifted off her chest. It's not like she really escaped anything—he didn't even attempt to initiate a conversation about her job, but still, she somehow evaded, no, delayed the inevitable from happening. She already got an earful when she told him she was working at Cherry Blossoms a few months ago, and not to mention the day she told him she was going to pursue a career meteorology—she shudders just at the thought of the day.

She doesn't want to think of it.

“Yah, get up, you sloth.” She pokes at Yerim’s face through her Hello Kitty blanket from years ago, clearly displeased with the disturbance to her sleep after she's all dressed and ready for the day—unable to bear the sight of someone lazing around for so long.

“It's eight o’clock, get up!”

The girl grumbles while shifting around her bed and rises dishevelled with a scowl on her face.

“Screw off.”

“We're going to leave at ten, you better start getting ready.”

Yerim forces her out of her room and shuts the door dramatically, she sighs and goes to her room to make sure she has everything she needs for the ‘trip’.

Irene shuffles into the kitchen, an imaginary lo-fi beat in sync with her footsteps.

“Do you think that Minho can take care of Suzy well?” Her mother asks almost out of the blue when she sits herself down by the counter.

“He seems like a decent guy enough, in my opinion at least. They’ve been together for a year, Suzy looked really happy with him.”

Her mother looks scandalized.

“Only a year? Aren’t they going a bit too fast, jumping straight to marriage after a year? That’s barely anything!”

She nods, but can’t really tell if she agrees to her mother’s words or not. Her parents knew each other for a solid five years of unspoken words and lingering glances before they got married, what would they know of such fast-paced love stories?

The whole reason they’re going to her aunt Jinyoung’s is because of this impromptu engagement party they somehow put together after Minho proposed a month ago. Suzy wouldn’t even dare telling her parents unless she could truly envision a future with this guy, and her aunt wouldn’t even bother telling them unless they were really, really impressed by him.

The signature sizzle of reheated food greets her ears, she silently accepts defeat while she tries her best to glare at the Jjajangmyeon, almost vicious as it twists and turns in the pan.

She wonders why the microwave remains unused when it’s much simpler to just chuck it in there and let the noodles heat up themselves, but then she remembers where exactly she gets her inability to use technology from and sighs at how wasteful it is to have something to do the job for you but end up never using it.

“Do you think they’ll last?”

If it weren’t for her concentrating on the faint sizzles of the oil, Irene would’ve barely heard the question, her mother’s voice dangerously close to a whisper as she glances warily around for the sight of her father.

She frowns.

Vague memories of her cousin gushing over her boyfriend come to mind, how he’s ‘so sweet and understanding!’, how he ‘looks so in love’ whenever she’s near, how they’re the kind of couple whose eyes would meet at an instant no matter where in a crowded room.

Maybe they would, maybe they wouldn’t. How could she ever tell?

Who exactly is she to say how taken two people seem to be with each other?

She doesn’t know the truth, but ends up saying what her mother wants to hear.

“Yeah, I do.”

Pleasantly optimistic, a tinge of hope and facade to mask over it.

It’s what anyone would want to hear.

“Hm, you’re probably right. Suzy’s a smart girl.”

When she’s poking around at the hot (cold?) noodles, her father calls out, “Chaeyoung-ah, did you pack your clothes yet?” and almost making up for the loss of presence, Yerim drags her feet across the floor and sits across her.

“Mom, I don't want to have Jjajangmyeon.” Yerim whines, pouts at the silence that answers her and reluctantly eats her noodles.

She gets a sudden message from Seungwan—a picture of the board of her café, Seoul Food in loops and loops of cursive in light blue contrasting the white background of the board.

It's a perfect representation of the owner, a thought fleets by in her mind.

“Are we set?”

“Yup.”

“Sure you didn't forget anything?”

“Yup.”

“Listen, there's no stopping on the way, okay? We're going straight to their house.”

“Gotcha. Can we leave already?” Yerim pleads at her father, foot tapping impatiently on the floor of the used Hyundai Sonata they're seated in.

He sighs, once more checking the trunk if they've got everything they need, checking if their house is locked, and finally gets in the car. “Okay, let's go.”

“Wait! Let me check if I turned off the stove.”

×

Just like old times, echoes one part of her mind.

Road trips were always like their little getaway for the weekend either if it was to her grandma's house by the bank of the Geumho or to the national park in the south. Her father was always someone who loved taking long drives and drinking in picturesque moments—when a road trip would come, the first thing she'd remember is her mother nagging him for driving so slow while passing under the pine trees in winter, laughing her off and a jazzy tune coolly leaving his lips.

His fingers still tap at the wheel the same way, skipping a beat and filling in the silence with a sound only he hears, still ever so concentrated on the road while he attempts little anecdotes of conversation as they pass by green fields and shallow streams.

She watches through the window on her side—always the left, she doesn't know why—as the road disappears, barely catching up with the conversation that has her family in splits.

“It was that one time, okay?” Yerim says, her words dripping with a pout and her mind tells her again, just like old times.

But it's really not, is it?

So much has changed, the other part of her mind pesters at her.

It feels difficult to breathe like all the troubles in the world have rested on her chest, feeling burdened with this trifle of an observation that would've gone unnoticed if she just wasn't in the now.

Her father’s hums are restricted, coming out rather hoarse and rough contrasting to his smooth voice, there's not enough groove as he bops his head or drums against the steering wheel and maybe it's just a ridiculous thought, but it still affects her more than it should.

Time hasn’t left her parents an exception, they’ve changed like everything else since she left.

Just like everything else, her parents have gotten a bit older.

Not as lively. Not as energetic. Not as youthful as they used to be.

She doesn’t realize she’s been boring holes into her father’s head with a frown covering her face until he asks, “What’s wrong, Joohyun?”

“Oh? Nothing.”

Irene gets that ever so ambiguous hmm from her dad, meaning he won’t prod any further but unfortunately, she’ll have to confront the question when they’re alone.

“I just want you to be independent and not come running to me in the future when we’re all old can’t help you anymore. Will this be able to give you a secure future?”

She didn’t think the time would come so soon.

“Dad, it’s my passion. You know I’ve wanted to pursue this,” her tone seethes, “ever since I was in the fifth grade. I’ll get a decent job in some government sector.”

She didn't think it would catch up so fast.

“Yerimie, how’s life at your college? Are you getting along with everyone well?”

“Maybe a little too well, if we’re being honest.”

Her sister chides at her, she sticks her tongue out and just before Yerim is going to say something brutally hurtful to her ego, her mother tells them to stop fighting.

“Listen, you need to study hard, okay? Don't fool around with your friends too much. You won't get anything out of that. Be focused in your classes.”

A sigh. “Okay, dad.”

Conversation dies out, or maybe she wasn't there to witness it go on. An hour passes by, most of it with her sleeping and being awakened by Yerim's sudden outbursts of laughter when they pass by various towns, making horrible puns and somehow be the only one enjoying them.

The road upwards is winding, uphill and it has her getting nauseous. She wills herself to get through it all, seeking comfort in the apple blossoms that pass by, though they don’t seem to help that much.

“Jinyoung keeps telling me how much of a catch Minho is. I wonder if he can live up to my expectations.” Her father says, nonchalant as always, giving way for an open-ended conversation to start up and her mother takes the bait.

“He’s good looking, he earns well, and Suzy says he takes good care of her—what’s not to like?”

It’s her mother’s signature move—she doesn’t really agree with what she herself says, rather prompting out more information to have a clearer stand on whatever it is they’re talking about. Delving in for answers she could never ask out in the open.

“Really? I heard that he roams about in those parts of the city, what business could he possibly have there?”

Lo and behold, her mother’s lips tug upwards so slightly, she’d miss it if she looked away.

“Hmm, now that’s quite concerning.”

After a lecture she still has to listen to after a whole twenty-six years of life about how and how not to behave is given, the nausea is forcibly shoved back down and temples start clouding their every direction, they reach one of the very few neighbourhoods—can it even be called a neighbourhood?—up in the hills of Palgongsan.

“Goodbye, my dear Wi-Fi,” Yerim says just loud enough for her to hear.

The clouds pass by, no longer blocking the sun; a songbird cries out the sweetest tune it can manage, and the door to the rustic wooden house opens, a warm smile lying behind it.

It’s 11: 47, twenty-seven minutes later than what her father predicted by when they’d reach.

×

“You don't want to end up like your sister, do you?”

It's something she's used to hearing ever since Joohyun moved to Seoul five years ago.

Funny, she thinks for a brief moment, how this is the best her parents can come up with to keep her focused on her studies.

They don’t actually care—they wouldn’t even bother to care about how her sister scrapes by each day; they wouldn’t know how hard she worked to get to where she is now.

Alone in that big city with not a single person to turn to, no parents who’d call her every day to know how she’s doing, no one to fawn over her well being in constant worry, in constant fear.

No one to call her home.

Joohyun didn’t have anyone she could confide in. No matter how hard Yerim would plead, her unnie-complex would never let her trouble her little sister with the bitter reality she has to face each passing day.

“I told her not to take up that course, but did she listen? Look at what she's doing now! Waiting tables with a whole degree sitting on its at home! If only she had…”

Yerim doesn't listen any further.

What would they know of how Joohyun barely manages to get through each day?

What would they know of how much she worries, how much she prays that today won't be the last day she'll ever hear her sister’s voice?

What would he know?

Joohyun will find her way somehow.

She was—and always will be—her pillar of support. Her sister is one of the most emotionally strong people she knows. It's just another obstacle, another way to get stronger. In a few years, she won't find what her parents tell her now so draining, they won’t leave her heart burdened with Joohyun’s sorrows, sinking deeper into an abyss she’s afraid she can’t get out of.

It’ll be something she'll laugh over. Maybe then they'll say, “You should be more like your sister.”

Joohyun unnie will find her way somehow.

Right?

“Yah, are you listening to me? Stop playing all your pranks and pour half of that concentration into your education.”

“Okay, dad.”

Will things always be like this?

“Unnie, when is Seungwan unnie’s café opening?” She asks in a whisper, unwilling to disrupt the commotion in front of her.

“If you're asking for free food, remember: it's Seungwan’s café.”

Yerim gives her an indecipherable smile. She doesn't look much into it, though it seems out of character for her straight-to-the-point sister. “It's gonna open in August.”

“Wow, there's still like, a month left. Are you excited?”

“...I guess? I'm happy that she's doing something she's always dreamed of,” a smile graces her face.

Irene tunes back into the conversation just in time for the underlayment of a speech from her uncle.

“Ah, even if you've been together only a year, I don't think I've ever seen Suzy so happy.”

Isn't that more of an insult to himself rather than a compliment to Minho?

The man looks down with a shy smile, cheeks flushed red as he laughs only to look up again when Suzy's hands brush against his.

“Then I promise I'll always keep her this happy.” He says, interlocking their fingers and sharing a look with his fianceé and she swears, she can hear her mother swooning from two seats away. However, it's the small kiss Suzy leaves on their joined hands that has Irene crying over her non-existent love life. She almost utters out a stop being so gross, guys but out of respect, she doesn't.

With a cheers! punctuating her uncle's discourse of how love is something so invaluable, how elated he is the two of them are getting married, and a (supposed) joke of the hotshot doctor paying for his entire wedding, their lunch ends.

It’s a lazy afternoon.

There’s a knock at the door around 3: 30. With half the house asleep after a hearty meal, she decides it’s best to not disturb her aunt and father who seem to be in deep conversation and though she thinks it’s a bit strange for Minho and Suzy to be back so soon after going out to shop for rings, she answers the door.

The second she does, she’s greeted with a bow and a mellow, “Good afternoon, Mrs. Bae.”

Definitely not Minho and Suzy.

“—Oh. Is Mrs. Bae home?”

“Yeah. I'll call her over. You are..?”

“Just say her poker buddy is here.”

There really must be no one living here, she thinks, because it seems her aunt is forced to play cards with people half her age instead of the usual village aunties.

“Imo, someone saying she's your poker buddy is at the door for you.”

“Oh! I completely forgot all about that,” she hears her aunt mutter on the way to the door, retiring back to her place on the couch and discreetly watching the conversation fold out at the door.

After a bow and a little back and forth between the two, the woman is invited into the house, a cool smile resting on her lips as she mockingly crushes the pack of cards within her hands.

“My brother's family is in town this weekend, you know, for Suzy's engagement and all.” She says, heading straight to the kitchen while the woman makes herself at home; she sits right down at the table while still engaging in conversation with Jinyoung.

“Joohyun-ah, come lend me a hand, will you?”

She sees that her aunt is making tea for the visitor, a question is tempted to voice its way out right when she's about to add in milk to the boiling water, but the woman beats her curiosity to it.

“Hi, I'm Seulgi. You are?” She asks with a hand out, the smile never leaving her lips.

She's pleasantly shocked at the introduction but she doesn't let it show, taking the woman's—no, Seulgi's—hand into her own.

“Irene.”

Seulgi raises an eyebrow at that, referring to how her aunt called her Joohyun before but remains silent. “You know, Seulgi's the only one around in this town that knows how to fix a fuse or two. I don't know where I'd be without her, especially when it's too cold—I can't live without my heater,”

“And by the way, she's always good company—you should just ask my friends around here, they love to pamper her so much!”

Seulgi's laughs with a blush adorning her face. “It's nothing like that, Jinyoung-ssi.”

“Yah, you and your formalities.”

The scent of chamomile spreads through the air. The sky looks overcast today, but she doesn't really mind.

Her aunt looks up, remembering something all of a sudden. “Ah! I didn't introduce you yet, this is Joohyun, my niece.”

Again, she gives her a polite smile and a bow with a nice to meet you that comes out automatically with it.

The tea is soothing, she savours the taste each time she takes a sip out of the porcelain cup. Seulgi leaves after a while, a promise to play poker some other day is made.

“Such a sweet girl, really. She lives all alone up in these mountains away from her family. I wonder how she makes it past each day…”

The honey in the tea seems to no longer have an effect, a bitter taste filling up .

Jinyoung gets a call from Suzy about the best flowers to choose for her wedding, leaving Irene alone by the table until her father comes and joins her.

He drinks whatever tea’s left unflinching, a satisfied sigh let out when he finishes.

“Are you still working at the restaurant, Joohyun?” He asks with almost no expression colouring his voice, playing around with the teacup in his hand.

It's ridiculous how she breaks a cold sweat at the question, how her heart starts beating irregularly against her chest and how she feels a wave of fear pass through her entire body.

“Yeah.”

Silence.

“...Are you...mad?”

A pause.

“No. Just disappointed.”

Bitter.

Her aunt comes in and clears away their cups, telling her how magnolias would've been the best flowers for the wedding but Suzy refuses because “she doesn't want anything clichéd at her ceremony” and Irene nods along.

The sky is no longer overcast, rays of sunshine burst through the clouds.

Irene thinks the sky is mocking at her.

A heavy weight settles at once on her shoulders.

She feels like she's going to be crushed under it, to meet the ground and there’s nothing to save herself from the sudden thunderstorm that looms over her head.

- A/N -

And with Inevitable Blues come these chapters' music review.

I chose the theme As flowers bloom and fall for the first chapter because I deemed the chapter just an introduction, not much happens and the same is reflected in the music, though there is a single part in the music where it changes the least bit—if you look close enough, the same happens in the first chapter.

Beethoven's silence speaks for itself—the music is rather melancholic and I kept trying to vibe in that direction, with Irene's subtle discontent and whatnot.

The main theme, Pas de Deux; well, I can't really say much about this because it describes the story how I want it to. It's very emotional and progresses more and more as the music continues. That's how I want to write this story. If I succeed or not is up to you, the reader.

What did you think of the music? Could I have chosen something better? If you think so, let me know!

Until the next time, keep jamming, everybody.