AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you SO MUCH to universitykpop for the amazing poster <3

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: This song is the song that introduced me to Oh Wonder so it holds a special little place in my heart <3

Drive

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"Sure, I could stay,

But there's a place I'd rather be."

While she sat waiting for Yeri she rehearsed what she was going to say to the publishers. Her phone read 3:13 PM. A light rain had started outside and sat there by the window the world looked warped and off balance and strangely ephemeral. Joohyun sipped at her coffee. Other than the meeting she thought about only Seungwan and that was a problem because with each passing thought she was closer to crying and she knew there would come a point where her self-control would fall apart and she would weep and nothing would be able to stop her.

Yeri arrived ten minutes later, umbrella in hand, looking out of breath. She saw Joohyun sat in the window seat and motioned to the counter and went and bought herself a coffee and sat opposite. ‘Afternoon,’ she said.

‘Hey.’

‘How are you feeling?’

‘How do you think I’m feeling?’

‘Like ? Terrified?’

‘Yeah, something like that,’ Joohyun said. She glanced out of the window again. Things out there seemed calmer. The rain fell and fell. Thin skeins of rainwater sailing down the windowpanes like planarians. She stirred her coffee slowly and blew on it and drank.

‘What time is it again?’ Yeri asked.

‘In the email they said to be there just before eight.’

‘How long does the meeting last?’

‘I don’t know. They didn’t tell me that part.’

‘Damn. Kinda rude of them, no?’

‘Not really.’

‘You look tired.’

‘Thanks.’

Yeri shrugged and drank her coffee with a grimace. She seemed to almost be preoccupied, but that was just Yeri. She had about her a certain ease at the world that Joohyun very much wished she could share in. She said, in an amused voice, ‘The other night was fun.’

‘No it wasn’t.’

‘Yeah it was.’

Joohyun sighed.

‘Thanks for looking after me.’

‘For tucking you into bed, you mean?’

‘Yeah,’ Yeri said with a grin. ‘And for, you know, cleaning up my corridor.’

‘Never in your life say that I don’t do anything for you. You don’t get that right anymore. I literally emptied your vomit out of a drinking cup. That’s the most disgusting thing anyone has ever done for another person, ever. In the history of ever.’

‘You’re such a drama queen.’

‘And you’re a terrible drunk,’ Joohyun said.

‘You’re not much better.’

She thought about this. In a sense it was the truth. The coffee black and bitter burnt hot in her hands. She said softly, ‘What am I supposed to do?’

‘What? Oh, are you back to this?’

‘It’s serious, Yeri. I’m serious.’

‘I know you are.’

‘I just don’t know what to do,’ Joohyun said again. ‘The more I try and not think about it – think about her – the more I do. And then I get into this cycle of trying not to think about her and just thinking about her more and more. I can’t get her off my brain. It’s just Seungwan this, Seungwan that. I don’t know what to do.’

‘Do you still love her?’

‘Yes I still love her. Of course I still love her. Nothing’s changed.’

‘But you pushed her away. That’s what you told me.’

‘Yeah,’ Joohyun said. ‘I was a ing idiot. I thought it would be for the best, for both of us. For her career.’

‘And? Will it be?’

‘Best for her career, you mean?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah,’ Joohyun said. ‘She won’t have the stress of having to hide me away from people, or having to lie to people about me, or having to spend time away from me when she goes on tour or anything like that. But that’s assuming she can just forget about me, and I can just forget about her. And, well…’

‘Has she forgotten about you?’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her.’

‘Maybe you should.’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘Are you going to mope around for the rest of your life?’ Yeri said.

‘What? No—’

‘Well it certainly seems like you are.’ She drank off the last of her coffee in two enormous mouthfuls that Joohyun almost had to laugh at and then said, ‘Look, you’ve got to get with the times, you know? You’ve got to realise that things move on without you. Time moves on. You either flow with it or you get left behind. Nothing is ever given for nothing. It all has meaning or reason or effort behind it. And nothing is going to fall into your lap out of the blue because you wish it will. You have to actively search it out. Now what that certain thing is, I’m not sure – your happiness, I assume. But whether that’s still in Seungwan, or whether it’s in learning to move on without her and cope on your own again, or something else entirely, I don’t know. You have to find that for yourself. But that’s the kicker – you have to find it. It won’t find you.’

‘How am I supposed to do that?’

‘I dunno,’ Yeri said with a shrug. ‘I’m not a prophet. I don’t have a crystal ball either, although I saw one online the other day for, like, thirty thousand won. And it looked legit. Or as legit as a crystal ball could look, I suppose. I dunno. I’m not down with the whole reading your future yet.’

Joohyun had to smile. Outside it rained on. She drank off the last of her coffee and said, ‘What if I mess up? What if I go out and find that thing, but it’s the wrong thing? What if I decide the best thing to do is to go back to her, but she doesn’t want me, or it’s too difficult for us, or I ruin her career or make her life worse? Or what if I move on without her and then realise a year or five down the line that she was right for me? That we were happier together, and we could’ve made it work. What then?’

Yeri’s hands fiddled with the handle of her cup. She looked almost wistful for a second, a sort of serenity to her young face. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘then you it up. There’s not a whole lot else you can do. You know, I heard once from somewhere – I can’t remember where – I think it was one of these faux-inspirational spoken-word bull videos on YouTube or something, that we were born to be great. Dunno why I was watching it. Maybe I wanted to be inspired. Can’t remember. But anyway, that’s what this dude said. “We were born to be great.”

‘And do you know what? I don’t think that’s true at all. I think we were born to make mistakes. Our whole lives revolve around waiting for us to up in some way, because otherwise there’s no way you can learn, right? I think I’m right. You absorb by design. Doesn’t matter how small. You up tying your laces. You up trying to be funny and impress your friends and fall in a nettle bush or something. You up cooking dinner and burn down your apartment. Or you lose the only person that’s ever loved you without hurting you. They’re all ups. All mistakes. What matters is we realise this and we move past it. We don’t hide it away and we don’t pretend it never happened but we don’t regret it either. Regret leads to longing leads to helplessness. What really counts is what we do when we’ve made a mistake. When we’ve lost something. Or someone. And before you ask, I can’t give you the answers for that either. No crystal ball on me.’

Joohyun was quiet for a long time. Her own fingers had moved to playing with her empty cup without realising it. ‘You can talk like nobody’s business when you want to, you know that?’

‘Oh, I know,’ Yeri said with a grin. ‘I’ve got a big mouth.’

Joohyun had to smile at that as well. She thought perhaps the true value of Yeri as a friend was how she could never fail to brighten her day, if only for a moment, a brief and much needed respite. ‘I should get going,’ she said.

‘I thought you said it wasn’t until eight?’

‘It’s not. But I need time to get ready and prepare myself. And it’s, like, half an hour by bus.’

‘Well,’ Yeri said. ‘Good luck. I’ll be rooting for you. In secret, of course.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Will do sign me a copy when you make it big?’

‘Maybe if you’re nice to me,’ Joohyun said with a rare smile.

It was the most nervous she had ever been in her life.

The worst part was not the hollow emptiness in her stomach nor the fact she felt as if she was going to be violently sick. It was the awful realisation that she knew a panic attack was coming, she just didn’t know when. Perhaps it would hit in minutes, sat there backstage in the dressingroom counting her breaths slowly. Perhaps it would be in twenty minutes when the makeup artists came to fix her up. Or maybe it would be out on stage, stood just behind the microphone, crying her eyes out as she failed to sing. And this time, all the world would see.

She thought about Joohyun again. She did not know why, only that she did, and it was impossible to stop. Her life had consisted almost entirely of crying over Joohyun and pretending she was okay for more than a month. And if there was any end in sight, it never made itself known to Wendy.

Fifteen minutes later she was interrupted by the makeup artists. They were kind, two girls about her age, and very understanding. Neither asked why her hands were trembling or why her eyes were red. The worst part was how sober she was. There was no soju or vodka or even a shot to take the edge off. Only the cold reality of her vacancy, the impending doom welling in her. She thought about Joohyun again. Somewhere in Sinchon with an agent from Wendigo Books. Would she get the deal? Should she text? Did it matter?

Even as the makeup artist left her alone again she thought about that. It had just gone nine PM. She was on in fifteen minutes, give or take. Two minutes to warmup while they ran commercials and introduced her. Her hands were bitterly cold and it hurt to breathe and she was crying and sure the eighties sunglasses would hide her tears but they couldn’t hide the panic. It was raining outside. The only window was on the roof and she could hear it beat down in a staccato metronome that was so loud it made her angry.

Another minute. Her phone read 9:02 and she was crying again. Even Seulgi’s constant support via texts could not stem the worrying. Thinking:

Why did she push me away? Why did I ever say anything to her? I should’ve just hidden it. I love her too much to let her go.

She closed her eyes and tried to drift away. When she opened them a minute later she was still alone, still there, with only the rainsound to carry her into the mire of an uncertain future.

The man from Wendigo Books was very kind and patient with her. The first thing he had said after introducing himself and showing Joohyun through into the room in the publishing house building and fetching her a coffee was, ‘You look nervous.’

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I am a little. This is a big thing for me.’

He smiled an affable smile. Under any other circumstance it would have put her at ease. The room was a small and claustral place and too warm. A single long table and a handful of documents and folders and things to sign and a projector hanging from the ceiling beside two narrow and pale lightbulbs and the windows on the right through which the night rain looked like a hailstorm. ‘This is a totally normal thing to be nervous about,’ he said.

Joohyun forced a smile. Her hands were trembling. He could see that she was terrified from the way she sat and shifted about and could not sit still. What he did not know was that it had nothing to do with her book of poetry at all.

For half an hour he talked at length. He never once mentioned the deal. Instead it was a copious amount of praise for Joohyun’s work, both in English and Korean, and a general tone of surprise when she told him she had never been accepted before. He told her about himself – he had attended Oxford University as an undergraduate for a bachelor’s in Journalism and then some other things but she wasn’t paying attention. She watched the rain. Falling and falling. It was almost twenty past eight when he began to talk about the deal.

‘There’s a lot on the table here,’ he said. ‘Figuratively speaking. We think you’re an outstanding writer, and we’d love to have you onboard. We think there’s a real possibility not only for commercial success, but critical, too.’

He said something else. Joohyun was almost crying. Her lips were quivering. She understood that what she was about to do would change her life forever and maybe not for the better. But Yeri had been right.

She smiled politely at him and said, ‘I’m really very sorry.’

He just looked at her, confused.

‘There was an emergency I had to attend to tonight. I shouldn’t have come here. I’ve wasted your time and I shouldn’t have done that. I’d like nothing more than to sign a deal with you, but I can’t be here right now to do that. I’m sorry. There’s somewhere I have to be.’

She was already by the office door when she turned to him and smiled again and said, ‘I’m sorry. Thank you for understanding.’

It was raining so heavily she had to stand under the awning waiting until her cab pulled up two minutes later. She could see almost nothing at all. Only the thin and flickering lights of the cab and other cars and the night out there in the rain and the rain itself twisting and righting and the sound of it hammering down the sidewalks and on the awning above her and the smell it made, like wet and old dust. She ran for the cab and climbed in and closed the door. Already her hair was soaked. He looked at her through the rearview mirror and she told him where to go and then after a moment’s hesitation he pulled away.

It would take her fifteen minutes to get there. That would give her just under half an hour before the commercials ended and the introduction began. And that would be time enough. These calculations had been planned over the course of the afternoon in place of rehearsals for her meeting, because they were more important, more immediate. Perhaps Wendigo would send her another email rescheduling the meeting. Or they would cancel the deal altogether. She didn’t think about it at all.

The rain looked as if it would never stop. Rain from a phantom sky and there was no moon, no light. When the cab stopped east of Gangnam sometime later Joohyun tried to peer out of the window and could see only the rain and the narrow red lights of the cars around her like bokeh. ‘Where are we?’ she said.

‘Not far now. Just traffic.’

‘How much traffic?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Radio said earlier there’s been an accident up ahead and they’re diverting.’

On the radio they were playing “Good For,” by an artist they introduced as Wendy. She tried to look out of the window again. ‘How far is it?’ she asked.

‘What?’

‘How far is it. To still go.’

‘About a mile up the road,’ he said. ‘Maybe a little bit more.’

She thought about it only for a moment. The traffic was hemmed all up the intersection. She fumbled in her purse and handed him a wad of cash and opened the leftside door and said, ‘Thank you.’

‘Wait—’

Before he could say anything else she shut the door and disappeared. There was nobody about on the streets, only the traffic. The rain had made it such that the moment she stepped out of the cab she walked into a wall of water and was soaked to the bone. He had said a mile up the road. Joohyun ran like she had never run before. Past shopwindows and the cars idling and across the intersection ahead and then left knowing where it was already. Having searched it out just in case. The rain made it hard to see, harder to breathe. It was too cold to think straight. She ran the entire mile in seven minutes and then however much further as well. When she turned up outside the broadcasting building it was three minutes past nine. There was a woman stood under the awning smoking a cigarette. The end of the cigarette flickered like molten ash and the smoke flitted about in the rain and the woman took one look at Joohyun, pale and sodden and exhausted, and looked away again.

She entered in through the lobby. The woman at reception took one look at her also and turned up her face in concern while Joohyun caught her breath. ‘What can I do for you today?’ she said.

‘Which floor is SNL Live?’ Joohyun asked.

The woman was quiet a moment. Then she said, ‘Third floor. But you can’t go in. They’re already on air.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Wait—’

She took the stairs three at a time. The water ran from her hair in streams and her clothes were bitterly cold and she weighed a good five pounds heavier with the rain. There were two sets of doors in the corridor on the third floor. The first had a black cloth over the windows on the inside. The sign beside them read GENERAL ENTRANCE. The second set of doors was at the far end. There was a man with a clipboard and a headset murmuring stood just outside. He saw her coming and frowned and said, ‘Sorry, but you can’t be down here.’

‘Is this the VIP entrance?’

‘No.’

‘The performers entrance. The staff area. Whatever the you want to call it.’

He looked at her with great impatience. ‘You need to turn around and go back,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You don’t understand.’

‘Ma’am.’

‘No, I know someone in there. I know Wendy. I’m a friend of hers.’

‘You can’t come in here. I’m sorry.’

‘My name’s Joohyun. Can’t you just tell her? Please. Tell her Joohyun is here.’

He tried to shoo her away but she would not go. Like a wounded animal too proud to leave, too desperate to admit defeat. Because what alternative was there? She was about to say something else when the man glanced over her shoulder and nodded and said no more. Joohyun turned around. The woman she had seen smoking a cigarette outside was there. The laminate lanyard around her neck read VIP, and then in bold red lettering underneath read PARK SOOYOUNG. She looked a few years younger than Joohyun and very formal and she said, ‘What’s going on?’

‘Please. My name’s Joohyun. I know one of the performers in there. I’m a friend of—’

‘Joohyun?’

‘Yeah.’

‘A friend of Wendy’s?’

‘Yeah,’ Joohyun said, catching her breath. The woman looked at her for a moment. Then she nodded to the man and said to Joohyun, ‘Come with me.’

‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’

The woman led her across the side of the studio and toward the backstage area. As she passed she caught a glimpse of the elaborate stage setup and the performing stage in front of it and the audience sixteen rows deep all waiting while the TV screens informed everyone they were about to play through the commercials. The clock on the wall read 9:08. ‘Did you want to see her before she goes on?’ Sooyoung asked. Joohyun said that she did.

A handful of coordinators and sound people saw her walk in like some ruder aquarium form washed up from the sea and turned away again. The woman took her down a dimly lit corridor. There were six rooms on either side. The third one down on the left had an embossed plaque on the door that read PERFORMERS.

‘Can I see her alone?’ Joohyun said.

The woman called Sooyoung looked her. She seemed to be weighing something in her head. Then she said softly, ‘Sure. But she’s got to be out there for a soundcheck in about three minutes.’

‘Okay. Thank you so much.’

She knocked on the door and waited but there was no reply. Sooyoung left her there. Her heart was racing and her clothes clung to her and she had a wicked headache coming and she knocked again and opened the door without waiting for a response.

Seungwan was sat at the table at the rear of the room in front of the mirror. She had been crying. Her face was puffy and her cheeks red and the guitar was leant against the side of the table and she saw Joohyun and sat up and blinked twice and wiped her eyes and said, ‘Joohyun?’

Joohyun smiled. It was the truest and purest smile that had come to her in months. ‘Hey,’ she said softly.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I came to see you perform. Duh.’

Seungwan was almost weeping again. ‘What about your meeting?’ she said.

‘I’ve already been.’

‘What?’

‘It went well,’ Joohyun lied. ‘I figured I’d come and see you.’

That seemed to set something off in Seungwan again. She was crying before Joohyun could say anything to stop her. ‘I can’t do it,’ she wept into her hands. ‘I can’t go out there.’

‘Hey. Hey, Seungwan, look at me.’

‘I was just going to tell Sooyoung I can’t do it. I’m sorry. I’m freaking out.’

She stepped close and got down on one knee as if ready to propose and took Seungwan’s hands in her own, pale and cold and trembling. ‘Yes you can,’ she whispered. ‘I know you can. You’re going to go out there and you’re going to kill it like nobody’s ever killed it before.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Seungwan. Seungwan, baby, look at me.’

Slowly she did.

‘You can. I know it. I’m so proud of you. I love you so much. I know you can do it.’

Seungwan was silent. Time was running away from them. She seemed to calm down almost instantly and only Joohyun could possibly have that effect on her. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and giggled and sniffled and said, ‘Why did you call me baby? You never do that.’

‘Got your attention, didn't it?’

‘And why are you so wet?’

‘It’s wet outside.’

‘Did you walk here?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Did you really go to your publishing meeting?’

‘Yeah,’ Joohyun said, partially the truth. ‘I’ll tell you all about it later. But now you’ve got to go perform.’

‘Will you be here? When I’m finished, I mean.’

Joohyun smiled. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she said, and drew her in for a sweet kiss. ‘Not now, not ever. I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ Seungwan mumbled. She looked at Joohyun and nodded – more to herself than anything – and grabbed her guitar from the desk. ‘I can do it,’ she said. ‘I can do this.’

‘You’re going to be amazing. I trust you.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, I am.’

‘I’ll be right here watching. Don’t worry.’

Seungwan smiled at her. She took her sunglasses and put them on and said, ‘Here I go. Wish me luck.’

‘Good luck,’ Joohyun said.

She watched on the TV feed in the corner of the room. Seungwan performed only two songs. Watching her there was like watching someone sing in another reality altogether. She looked so different it was almost alarming. There were no tears or trace that she’d ever cried at all. Joohyun could think very little. She sat there and smiled ear to ear and all she could truly think for the next ten minutes was:

She was born for this. This is who she is.