Wordlessly Yours

 

Writing with a sense of purpose—that’s what it is all about. We muster a lot of metaphors, encrypting the message for people to dig deeper and think more critically. We write allusions, referencing to revolutionary past events and historical figures for people to research about. We turn phrases and sentences into lines and verses, creating poems with hidden meanings, giving life to the art and poetry. However, Mark Lee doesn’t just write, he also makes music out of his own writing, working with various songwriters, and putting tunes on his work.

On the 24th of June, he sat on the bed of the hotel room where he checked in, scribbling words on his journal that was given by his best friend. He just finished a live concert, and now, without having any rest still, he continued writing as if it was the most normal thing to do by musicians after performance. It was already past midnight, and he still had another concert to get ready for. His manager had told him to take some rest three hours ago, but for some reason, he just couldn’t. He had the urge to write, and that was what he was doing until now.

A couple more minutes into writing and at last, drowsiness visited him without further ado. He yawned loudly, standing up, stretching his limbs. He placed the journal and the pen on the table near his bed, heading to where his suitcase was, pulling a pair of pajamas. He took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, and slipped into a comfortable clothing. Crashing onto the bed, he pulled the duvet over his chin, turning the lights off from the bedside table as he dozed off to sleep.

 

“It has been an amazing night. Thank you so much, Seoul! Have a wonderful evening,” Mark had stated after his last song ended, pressing the last, white tile from the song off of his grand piano as he pulled a smile and took off the stage.

He heard the crowd go ballistic, deafening screams and shouts from the ocean of people, mostly from teenage girls who held up concert placards containing romantic messages for him. Being nineteen with a pretty face, dark brown eyes, standing five feet, nine inches in height, and an addicting and unique baritone voice, he was able to capture everyone’s heart in a moment he released his first single from his debut album, making it into the headlines of different newspaper not only in Vancouver, Canada, his hometown, but also in the capital, Toronto. People loved him more when they found out he writes his own music and worked in his debut album alone. After some time, he made it into magazines, tabloids, newspaper, and every form of media there ever is in Asia, Europe, Australia, and soon enough, he was considered as an international icon.

However, he never wanted to experience it alone. It was he and his best friend who had wanted to be known worldwide together; to be able to perform in front of thousands of people together. Mark never wanted to have cameras flashing on him when he goes out alone. He never wanted to be the daily topic of people and have his face splashed on the news front page alone, but for his best friend, Lee Donghyuck, whom he dearly loves and can’t live without, he lived the life of what ought to be their live together, caused by a traumatic incident back on the day of his sixth-grade school music festival.

Mark was twelve and in sixth grade, while Donghyuck was eleven. He hadn’t wanted to join the music festival. Though it was Donghyuck who had wanted to join, the latter was shy, urging Mark to perform instead. At first, he declined politely, which was the reason Donghyuck gave him a silent treatment for a week. Mark was forced to accept the idea of his best friend at the last minute as Donghyuck yelped out a loud shriek. There was only fifteen minutes left before the music festival started so Mark told Mrs. Lee, Donghyuck’s mom. the last minute decision he had made. Although he had not practiced, Mark was pretty much convinced that there was nothing wrong with trying, and besides, he still got time on their way to school to think what song he would perform. Fortunately, Mrs. Lee didn’t argue. The three of them went to Mrs. Mrs. Lee’s parked car as she climbed into the driver’s seat, Donghyuck riding shotgun while Mark got stuck at the backseat.

“Mom, let’s hurry!” Donghyuck had demanded childishly. Mrs. Lee switched the engine on without another word, accelerating through the empty road.

Seven minutes.

Mrs. Lee pressed harder on the accelerator, not noticing an incoming car from their right in an intersection. For a brief moment, the lights from the other car blinded her as she tried to hit the brakes, attempting to slow down nonetheless. However, it was too late already. The front of the other car had already collided with Mrs. Lee’s car, specifically on the right side. Before Mark passed out, he was pretty sure he had heard a faint cry.

A day after the accident, he awoke with a massive headache. For a short moment, he didn’t know where he was or what he was doing inside a plain, immaculate room. His eyes roamed his surroundings, and with a sudden realization, he remembered what had happened. Luckily, he had only suffered from a small gash on his forehead, but he didn’t know if it was still luck, knowing either his best friend or his best friend’s mother was in danger.

Two days after he gained consciousness, he was discharged, accompanied by his both of his parents who was forced to take a leave from work and stay by his side. The circles under his father’s eyes were the proof the man hadn’t had any sleep since the accident. The following day, Mrs. Lee got discharged as well. She was crying scornfully, blaming herself for all of these.

When they visited Donghyuck, the latter was already awake, which brought a smile to Mark and Mrs. Lee. Mr. Lee, however, remained expressionless, knowing what was yet to come. Donghyuck stayed still as his mother came close to his hospital bed, wearing a smile that reached her eyes. Disheartened, she frowned from the way the latter ignored her.

“Honey?” Mr. Lee called from his spot. “Come here.”

He pulled her tenderly out of the room, Mark silently trailing behind them as Donghyuck started weeping soundlessly.

“What’s wrong?” Mrs. Lee asked with urgency evident in her voice. “Did something happen to him?”

And then Mr. Lee told Mrs. Lee what the car accident had done to Donghyuck. Mark heard it. In that moment, he felt like the air was being sacked out of his lungs. He tried to remain in place, but his knees were wobbling and giving up. His bottom lip trembled, tears pouring down his face. Mustering all strength that was left, he ran to the nearest bathroom, locked himself, and cried, blaming himself. If his mind hadn’t just changed, it would have never happened to his best friend.

 

At the back stage, Mark was met by his manager, just like the usual, after every concert of his. “Incredible performance, as always.”

“Thanks.” He smiled halfheartedly, taking off his black, leather jacket, taking a gulp from a bottle of mineral water.

“Do you think you can still have a go with meet-and-greet?” his manager had asked. “You look exhausted.”

“Of course.” Mark nodded. “Yeah, I can.”

“As expected of you.” The manager patted him on the shoulder, leaving him once again. Mark let out a loud sighed, fishing out his phone from his pocket, texting Donghyuck how the last performance of his in South Korea went.

 

The meet-and-greet went on for about an hour or so. The fans were squealing, crying, awestruck, and some of them feeling different kinds of emotion all at once. They were able to take pictures with the Mark Lee who had to put on a smile all throughout. He also signed the albums of those who bought his latest album in the said concert.

He looked as though he was a dead person who came back to life when he arrived at his hotel room. Exhausted might he be, he gathered all his might to walk to the telephone for food service and let himself fall on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Soft breathing filled the room, unrealistically echoing through the walls as his eyes landed over the wide city through the glass wall which overlooked it. He stood up near the glass wall, taking a good look of what the scenery had to offer. Small cars, which seemed like they were made up of plastic from above, were moving painfully slow as tall buildings towered them, city lights providing the lights of the city, for it to continue as it was. The north-eastern sky that night was filled with small, nimbus clouds everywhere under the black, onyx horizon as the crescent moon shone brightly in between them.

Three small knocks sounded a couple of minutes later, the staff of the hotel bringing the food he had ordered. Mark thanked the staff as the latter bowed his head, heading out, leaving him alone once again. The food was a large variation of authentic Korean food, which Mark was pretty much sure, he would’ve enjoyed if he were to share it with Donghyuck. Feeling a small knot of anxiety about being away, he ate as the pair of metal chopsticks clanked against the plate once in a while, emphasizing how lonely he was inside the fancy hotel room.

 

The next day, he woke up, unaware of the surrounding for a split second until he came to realization. His tour in Korea, as well as in Asia, had finally come to an end. He was ought to stay for another day for a day rest before his flight back to Vancouver and also to enjoy his last day visiting beautiful places in the said country.

With his Korean guide to tour him around, Mark decided to go to Dongdaemun shoe street, which is a place known in Seoul for having high quality shoes with cheap price. Knowing Donghyuck all too well—including the size of the latter’s feet—and how much his best friend loves shoes, Mark bought himself a pair as a souvenir and a pair for his best friend’s collection. He also visited the National Art Gallery where he saw a lot of historical paintings and portraits of the great painters, priceless artifacts, and cultural treasures. His next destination was Gwangjang Market where he, together with his tour guide, ate to lessen the loneliness he felt. It was in a restaurant he couldn’t remember the name, which serves authentic Korean food. His last day was incredibly amazing, the only thing that wasn’t fun about it was the fact that he had to disguise himself as someone else to avoid getting mobbed by the crowd, but overall, it was great.

 

Mark’s flight to Toronto from Seoul lasted for about roughly thirteen hours. All throughout the flight, he had to fight off the numbing feeling of his back, as well as the boredom. Fortunately, he had brought a few books with him before he went to Korea. Not feeling sleepy yet, he decided to kill some time by reading, and after a few hours of reading nonstop, he fell asleep.

He arrived at his apartment feeling jet lagged and nauseous, immediately slumping his back against the sofa in the living room, massaging his temples with his eyes closed. He took a look at his surroundings. He was back at his apartment, but no, he was still not home. Home is where his family was—in Vancouver. His apartment was merely a place to stay at. He hadn’t wanted to move away from his family, especially away from Donghyuck, but there was no way he could go back and forth Vancouver and Toronto every time his management needed him, so no matter how much it hurt him, he decided to do what he thought was best. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he typed against the screen of his gadget.

Just arrived at my apartment in Toronto. Can’t wait to see you.

With a satisfied smile on his face, he sent it to best friend, tossing his phone as it tumbled mid air, catching it. He opened his suitcase, fishing out his journal, scribbling how the tour in South Korea went. The journal also contained the words of his experience in Malaysia, Japan, China, Indonesia, as well as countries in Europe and North America. Getting inspired of his travelling, he wrote a few lines before closing the journal.

The following day, he booked a flight to Vancouver. Wanting to surprise his family, he didn’t tell them that he was going to be back as he gathered all his souvenirs for his parents and Donghyuck.

 

“Wait,” said the taxi driver, examining Mark’s features carefully, wide-eyed. As soon as he removed his sunglasses, the scarf that was wrapped around his neck, and his hat, the driver said, “You’re Mark Lee!”

“Well yeah.” Mark smiled, nodding. “Didn’t think anyone would recognize me aside from teenage girls.”

“You’re always on the headline, who wouldn’t recognize you?”

“True.”

“Can we take a picture together?”

“What?”

“Also, can you sign my shirt?”

“Sure.”

Grinning, the taxi driver took his phone out, leaning against him as he snapped a picture of them. “Oh, I forgot. I don’t have a marker. It’s not like I expect a Mark Lee ride my cab out of nowhere.”

“Oh, hold up,” Mark told him, pulling out a marker of his own. “I carry one in case a fan who doesn’t have a marker wants my autograph.”

“Thank you a lot,” said the driver as soon as Mark signed his uniform. “My daughter is a massive fan of yours. She’ll truly be jealous.”

That earned a laugh. They decided then to get to the business. Mark told the driver the address where he was headed.

After a half and a quarter of an hour, they reached the destination. Mark pulled some cash, handing them to the driver, who was enthusiastic to accept the large amount of tip he received, telling how kind-hearted the teenager was.

Mark stood a good several distance from the familiar house. He savored the moment, trailing every corner of it with his eyes. He fished out from his bag the keys his Mrs. Lee had given him before he went away. It was so he could enter the house anytime he wanted, his Mrs. Lee had claimed. Smiling, the one that reached his eyes, causing to bring wrinkles around them in fulfillment at arriving at his hometown, Mark walked toward the front door, inserting the key and twisting it.

He entered, careful not to make his presence obvious. He closed the door cautiously, taking steps slowly. The living room looked as it had been the last time he was there. Painted with color white, the walls stood immaculately as ever with paintings, synchronizing with the white, marble floor. In the center stood a small table with a bamboo-like centerpiece, stack of papers lying neatly on it, surrounded by a sofa on its back and two chairs on either side of the small table as the large flat screen television attached to the wall faced it. Entering the kitchen, a stack of fruit on a bowl was located at the granite countertop. The cabinets and cupboards, which were made out of oak, looked somewhat new though they’ve been there as long as Mark could remember. The kitchen sink had a few plates, and spoon and fork, droplets of water dripping from the faucet against them. He entered the dining room, remembering the times he ate at the very same wooden, dining table located at the center of the room, a small chandelier hanging above it, with his family. At the center of the wooden, dining table, was a vase with flowers, sitting next to it was a bowl of assorted fruits.

The lack of sound inside the house made Mark think that, somehow, nobody was home until he heard the sound of a piano from upstairs. The tune that it emitted was very familiar. It was a tune of a song he had written about looking back from where he stood right now. Flashes of memories came back. He walked out of the dining room, heading upstairs. When he reached the stairs, he took small steps, until he found himself in front of a familiar room. Ever so slowly, he grasped the doorknob, twisting it cautiously as to not disturb the person playing the instrument.

The door opened, Mark finding his best friend sitting on a chair in front of the grand piano. Donghyuck continued playing, and as if sensing someone else’s presence, he stopped abruptly, not turning his head toward the door to find out who it was.

“Donghyuck…” Mark breathed out, smiling genuinely like he had never before since he moved out. He walked toward Donghyuck, touching the latter’s chocolate-brown hair, then ruffling it lovingly.

The younger Lee remained silent, giving his best friend a space to sit on the chair nonetheless.

“I’m really sorry if I didn’t tell you I’ll be coming home. I just wanted to surprise you, Mom, Dad and your parents, but it looks like they’re not here. I guess my plan failed then, eh?” Mark let out a laugh. “Anyway, that was really extraordinary. The way you played my song, I mean. And trust what I’m saying, it’s coming from the original musician who made it.”

The chocolate-brown haired boy pursed a small smile which Mark could’ve missed if he didn’t know his best friend like he did.

“So…” Mark started, dragging the syllable. “Have you been receiving my text?”

Donghyuck nodded.

“Which means, you received my long message on your birthday?”

Donghyuck stifled a laugh.

“I know it’s been two weeks since your seventeenth birthday, but I still got you a present. It’s a cover up for not being able to be here.” Mark saw his best friend’s eyes lit up for a second but vanished right away. “I’ll give it to you later. It’s downstairs. Let’s just hang around here for a bit. I’ve missed you so much.”

The younger Lee smiled in response, silence enveloping them.

“Donghyuck?” Mark called after the latter finished playing a song he couldn’t recognize. Donghyuck raised his eyebrows in response. “You know, in Asia, honorific words are really popular, so while I was in Korea, I asked my guide if he knows any honorific word for someone older than you. Turns out there is. It’s hyung.”

Rising from their seat, Donghyuck rummaged through his closet, pulling a wrapped up, long, slender thing, which seemed to be a present. It was confirmed that the thing was indeed a birthday present when Donghyuck sat back, pushing it against Mark’s chest. A month had already passed since Mark’s nineteenth birthday, yet Donghyuck bought a present for him, although the latter was unsure of his older best friend’s arrival. Mark felt a heart-warming feeling.

“Thank you,” he breathed out. “Thank you so much for this.”

The both of them took turns playing the piano. Mark sang once in a while, feeling the stare of adoration from the younger. For him, he didn’t need the whole world staring at him, because Donghyuck was his whole world and Donghyuck’s stare was beyond enough.

“Donghyuck,” Mark said after some time. Putting his arm around the younger, he tenderly pulled strands of Donghyuck’s chocolate-brown locks, continuing with, “I love you so much. You’re the best person I’ve ever had in my life.”

Donghyuck smiled wholeheartedly, the one that made wrinkles around his eyes.

“I love you, too,” Lee signed, gesturing every word with his hands, unable to say a single word, “hyung.”