Chapter 2

convenience

«There is music wherever there is rhythm, just as there is life wherever there beats a pulse.»

— Igor Stravinsky

♫♩ ♫♩ ♫♩ ♫♩ 

Dahyun has small hands that barely span an octave. To get a better stretch, Dahyun warms up her fingers beforehand. She kneels down, puts her hands on the floor and then lifts up her palms for five seconds. Then she lowers her palms, then she lifts them — up, down, up, down, up down — until she feels she can reach an octave on the piano.

She pulls out a chair, turns on her keyboard that is placed in front of the window in her bedroom and sets it to her preferred tone: piano 00. She begins by practicing her scales, chords and arpeggios for half an hour, then she plays through a classical piece that her teacher had given her last week. Dahyun butchers most of it, not keeping the beat and falling out of rhythm.

Her hands are too slow, the notes are a foreign pattern that her fingers have not learnt yet. Dahyun muses that she should have listened to the piece before giving it a go. Dahyun leans back in her chair, away from the keyboard. Then she readjusts the sheet music and decides to practice the parts that she had struggled to play properly.

Dahyun bites her lip, her eyebrows knit closely together, and she practices, and she continues to practice long after she has grown sick of practicing. When Dahyun is worn out, she decides to play Pachelbel’s Canon just because she can. She hums the melody, secretly glad that she is not a cellist or bassist; she doesn’t have to play the same eight notes throughout the entire piece. What a bore.

Dahyun’s stomach grumbles, loudly, and she places a hand over her belly. Dahyun scrunches her face, contemplating whether to go out to get something to eat, or to have yesterday’s leftovers.

There is a convenience store nearby (such is the luxury of living in a small town, everything is within walking distance). Dahyun decides she wants something covered in grease, and fat, and oil, and that just melts in one’s mouth. She grabs her hoodie and a cap, as well as her wallet and house keys, before she leaves.

It is late, it is quiet, her footsteps sing their own song as she walks along the sidewalk towards the convenience store that is glowing in the distance, the store’s white neon sign shimmering in the dark.

Before Dahyun steps inside the store, she pulls down her hood and adjusts her cap. She looks around for anyone she might recognise, not wanting to have to strike up a conversation. There is no-one, just the cashier who is busy looking at his phone. He lifts his gaze and greets Dahyun, who smiles back, then the cashier goes back to his phone, and Dahyun wanders around the store looking for something good to eat.

She ends up standing in front of a shelf with different types of ramen; beef, chicken, vegetarian, cheese, seafood. And suddenly Dahyun feels like having black bean noodles instead of something greasy and fatty. Her stomach growls again, and Dahyun looks over at the cashier, embarrassed, in case he might’ve heard.

Someone taps her shoulder. Dahyun pivots and comes face to face with Sana — the girl who is too nice for her own good. The reason Dahyun thinks this is because Sana’s actually a year older than her. And they don’t share any classes. And Sana actually hangs out with Momo and Mina during lunch, and the reason Dahyun knows that is because Mina knows Chaeyoung, Dahyun’s closest friend.

But that doesn’t mean Sana has to show any sort of kindness towards Dahyun, or that they should be friends, even. It’s all very strange. Dahyun doesn’t really understand.

«Hi, Dahyun.» Sana smiles, and Dahyun can’t help but stare at Sana’s lips that are close to hers, only a breath away. «Are you getting something to eat as well?»

Sana takes a step back to give Dahyun some room because Dahyun’s about to knock over the entire shelf given how her back’s pressed up against all of the ramen cups.

«Hi, Sana.» says Dahyun, surprised that she can even muster the words. «Yeah, I’m hungry.»

Sana chuckles and looks away, for a second Dahyun thinks Sana is shy. But then Sana takes Dahyun’s hand, lifting it and holding it close to her chest, Dahyun can faintly feel Sana’s t-shirt graze her knuckles. Dahyun tells herself that this is the way Sana is: too nice, too good, and always touching.

«Which one are you getting?»

Dahyun blinks once, then twice, only able to focus on Sana’s hand, which is rubbing circles into the back of her hand. And Dahyun is suddenly stuck in a trance, her tongue’s twisted in and any chance of forming a coherent sentence is lost.

Dahyun stutters. Sana doesn’t laugh. She looks at Dahyun with worried eyes and asks if she needs to drink some water. Dahyun shakes her head, then is finally able to say that she’s getting black bean noodles, and Sana says she’s getting the same.

Sana goes to pay for her food while Dahyun looks for something to drink in the beverage aisle, and ends up grabbing a 0,5 litre bottle of sprite. She walks up to the cashier where Sana is waiting for her, smiling and waving. 

Dahyun doesn’t know what to do, has never known what to do when she’s around Sana. Dahuyn could leave: place the cup of ramen on the floor along with the bottle of sprite and sprint home without looking back. Or she could tell Sana that she wants to eat alone.

But Dahyun does none of that, she doesn’t have the heart to treat Sana that way.

Her heart beats frantically, her hands shake when she takes out her card to pay for her food. Sana has settled down by one of the tables, and Dahyun thinks Sana is waiting for her. No matter how afraid and terrified Dahyun is, she walks over to Sana, and Dahyun wonders if Sana is a magnet while she is a coin.

Or perhaps Sana is a piece of sheet music that Dahyun is dying to hear played.

They eat together, and Dahyun can still hear her heart pounding in her ears. The beating only ever stops when Sana tells her something, yielding to the sound of Sana’s voice. They talk, and to Dahyun’s surprise, she finds herself able to utter understandable sentences.

Sana tells Dahyun that she is good company. Sana tells Dahyun that she likes the rain. Sana tells Dahyun that Dahyun is very good at slow dancing, which makes Dahyun blush. Dahyun tells Sana that she likes the way Sana smells and asks what perfume she uses.

It’s Givenchy: ange ou demon, the purple one that smells like sweet, sweet vanilla.

Deep down, Dahyun finds this utterly terrifying — talking to pretty girls. It’s unknown territory for her, some might even say forbidden, but Dahyun doesn’t care about that. Not now, not when Sana’s sitting across from her, tapping her foot to the rhythm of a song that is being played in the background.

Dahyun thinks back to all of her nights spent alone in this convenience store, eating out of ramen cups, drinking soda pop, looking at the dark, gloomy, sometimes even foggy, parking lot outside.

And she wonders how she managed to do it all alone; how she endured the silence and the sound without Sana who somehow breathes life into such a normal, boring place that no-one would bat an eye at.

Dahyun watches Sana, who is still eating, and feels her pulse quicken. Her cheeks might be a darker shade of red by now, Dahyun doesn’t know, all she feels is heat, and warmth, and excitement that she can’t explain or control.

When the music in the background stops, Sana’s still tapping her foot, her body still swinging slowly from side to side. She smiles at Dahyun and gives her this look, as if she knows something that Dahyun doesn’t, and all Dahyun can do is smile back and hope that Sana will one day tell her what it is she knows.