사랑 음악의 이루어집니다
( Love Is Made Of Music And You)
 
 
 
 
    Present Day- America    “You are up early.”  
I don’t reply her.
 
Ryujin looks at the sandbag then at me. Her eyes crinkles in mild amusement as she folds her arms. "You might actually get yourself killed.”
 
This time, I answer. “Maybe, but I kill myself training,” I say in between punches.“It’s just what I do. Am supposed to do. I get up and train. I run as warm up. I run as I hear the blood spilling into my veins. I run as the world spins around me. I train for hours into the night because when I do, I don’t think. I don’t think about anything.”
 
Her expression is unreadable as always as if she knows something but doesn’t speak of it unless necessary. I wonder how long does it take for a person to crack under pressure and whether it is the same as a decaying piece of wood, with time. Both are living things after all. “If we don’t have to think then life would be so much simpler but doesn’t make it any more carefree.” Her voice tinges with tenderness and it stops my punch mid-way.
 
I glance sharply at her hand on my wrist. “What on earth are you doing?”
 
“The momentum of a punch breaks when there is an air of resistance and I can feel a resistance in you. It is holding you back from letting go.”
 
“Let go of me.”
 
“I will.” She gently brushes her knuckles against my mine which are purple and bruised. When I uncurl my first, it opens like a flower, and her fingers trail along my calloused palm like she is mapping lines. Her eyes is a dark hue of grey and if I stare into them for too long, I might get lost in the storm trapped in them. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it. I won’t probe further into your problems but if you want to tell me anything, I am here now.”
 
Maybe I am lost because I suddenly lean and our lips meet for the first time. It is abrupt and I feel her surprise. Soon she melts and our kiss molds into a soft, chaste, gentle one like a brush of paint on a canvas. When Ryujin wraps her arms around my neck, I open my mouth to grant her deeper access. She smells of lavender and soap and tastes of fresh roses. As I press a hand onto her chest, I could feel her heart beating faster than mine which struggles to meet the same tempo.
 
There is an unfamiliar coldness on my lips when we part. She is different from all the other girls I know. Ryujin is kind and sweet but not overly cringy; she knows all of my pet-peeves like how I hate people who don’t throw their trash away after they finished eating at the back of her hand. She knows when I’m upset, when I put on a poker face, and is able to distinguish between a mood swing when I’m experiencing frustration or when my dog died.
 
When I lean in again, I think that maybe I could give this a chance. Except that when I lean in again, she doesn’t.
 
It’s as if time froze from her perspective. When she finally moves, its away. Her hands are now resting on my shoulders and even when we are still at a close proximity, I feel a gaping hole between us. As time starts to pick its pace again, I watch her shift her gaze slowly from my lips to my eyes. The shock in her eyes is replaced with sympathy.
 
At first, I don’t understand the sympathy that transpires in her eyes. It is the kind of sympathy that one easily mistakes as pain. Was the kiss that bad? Did I hurt her? I thought. Ryujin looks like she is swallowing a mouthful of blood when she whispers. “Yeji, how long?”
 
I still don’t understand the sympathy in her eyes and the pain in her voice until she elaborates with the same pained sympathy. “How long have you loved Choi Jisu?”
 
  __________________________________________________  
 
 
Jisu,
 
A single word on another clean sheet. I stare at your name. It took me more than a year to realize that my feelings for you has manifested into something uncontrollable, into something beyond  platonic comprehension.
 
I didn’t know when it all started. Was it from the first time I saw you at the veranda? Or was it at that time when you saved me from being ? I was scared. I should have feared for my life but what scared me more than losing my ity to my drunk stepfather was the terrifying look on your face. I would be willing to degrade myself if it meant not seeing that expression ever again. You looked like you were about to do something utterly dreadful that didn’t sit well with your personality. The glint in your eye was of filled with seething anger and rage. When you raised your hands, that was when I saw. The gun that I had dropped was now in your hands.
 
My heart sank when I saw the vile beast above me shifted its weight and started to approach you. Even if there aren’t any bullets in the gun, it was still in your hands. And you did not tremble as you took your aim. I thought you were the bravest person I have ever met. “Yeji, run!” You yelled at me but my legs were paralyzed in fear.
 
Your voice gave away the slightest hint of vulnerability as you yelled again for him to stop coming closer. The crack in your voice made me fear of what you will become. There was no seconds left to ponder as the gunshot that resonated in the room took me by surprise. My screams were muffled into my hands as I watched my stepfather’s body descend almost immediately. The pool of blood that surrounded his lifeless body like a halo was ironic but I don’t have the strength to condemn him back to hell. Before I fell to the ground, I heard a gun dropped before coming in contact with the cold and hard concrete. Warm arms spreaded around me like wings and your worry eyes were the last thing I saw before I succumbed. In my unconsciousness, an angel chanted my name like a prayer, “Yeji. Yeji. Yeji.” Then a whisper, “I’m sorry for everything.”
 
Jisu, I’m sorry for everything too.
 
 
 
  __________________________________________________

 
 
 
Two years ago- South Korea 

 

I make sure my voice rises above the music but it's only a facade to prove my strength. In truth, I am drowning. I am drowning in these memories. I am drowning in the presence of her as her music fills each corners of this giant concert hall.
 
“Choi Jisu.”
 
The sensation is indescribable. Her rendition of Moonlight Sonata bleeds into my mind in black ink. I close my eyes as I recall how that beautiful black dress had perfectly matched the color of her eyes and hair on last September when she played the same song. I close my eyes and I see a girl in a flowery dress which flows until her knees who skips down the campus hallways in summer joy.
 
I always find it funny how I had been the only one that disagreed with basically everyone on how she resemble a greek goddess. When I watched her perform Moonlight Sonata the first time, I was completely sure that I was right yet so wrong on a whole other spectrum.
 
For a goddess wouldn’t have been able to perfectly decipher human’s emotions from a manuscript of notes and ink the way Choi Jisu did. In the most humanely way possible.
 
When I open my eyes, I watch her shoulders heave and fall like the steady ticks of a metronome.When she plays her final note, it is played two octaves close to my heart. Unconsciously, I hold my breath for its remaining duration.
 

Silence immediately ensues as if to allow the vibration of that last note to finish echoing off the walls. When she speaks, it is in a low stutter of a breath, in a tone barely above a whisper. “Yeji? Yeji, is that you?”

 

'Yes,” I struggle for words . “It’s me.”

 

I struggle for air.“Why do you sound so breathless?”
 
“I ran all the way here