Thirty

by Tin Andra

for kenobiwrites

Tokyo after rain smells of linoleum and wet rubber. Taeyeon wonders if it’s what all megacities actually are underneath their sea of neons, human trying to polish everything squeaky clean and put a protective cover over them so that they remain squeaky clean. If anyone really wants to hear about it, if it’s less ridiculous to realize that everyone plays a role in life, Taeyeon would’ve made an album full of reference of mask.

Across the room, Yunho claps, calling for everyone’s attention. All heads turn to look at one of the three company elders. (Taeyeon holds back a snort at the reminder, really.) He raises his glass, clears his throat, says, “To our birthday girl.” Said girl hastily gets to her feet and bows. Next to her, Taeyeon almost feels the need to Seungwan’s back to ease her nerves.

Or maybe that’s just an excuse to touch her in any given way.

The first ones to pat Seungwan on the shoulder, naturally, are her bandmates. Irene fusses about her, a mother hen as always. Taeyeon’s heart feels a faint pang as it recalls some good ol’ day memories of Tiffany and Yuri, and sometimes Sunkyu, in the kitchen early in the morning, putting food in Yoona’s lunch box, always the one with the toughest schedule among them, and snacks in ziplock bags for the rest. Then, Heechul and the Juniors hoot rowdily. The rest of the boys whose names Taeyeon can’t even remember follow suit. Jimin claps the hardest, always the proudest of the pink blood bunch or whatever is the moniker of the cult their former boss grew. For every well wish and congratulatory shout, Seungwan bows ten times. Just from watching it, Taeyeon’s own back aches.

Hyoyeon drags Seungwan to do rounds, clinking glass with the whole bar. It’s standard practice to book the whole bar of the hotel whenever they are in town, and without BoA around the leader role of the girl pack falls to her and Hyoyeon. Taeyeon is glad the pack has at least Hyoyeon, with nearly all the party animals like Sooyoung and Tiffany gone. Imagine if it’s only her. ‘Cemetery bore and a heart-wrenching lament for Roh ing Mee-oh,’ Sooyoung has once said.

Seungwan is two persons away from completing her rounds when her eyes meet Taeyeon’s. She wants to laugh as she realizes how much Seungwan wants to flee from the scene. Behind Seungwan, Hyoyeon slings an arm around her shoulders and gives her a gentle push toward Taeyeon. ‘Go,’ she mouths to Taeyeon. Hyoyeon then turns around to yell at the bar, “Yah, party animals! Shall we crank it up!?”

Shaking her head, Seungwan puts her now empty glass on the table next to Taeyeon. Even in the dim light, her flushed cheeks look rosy. Taeyeon takes her glass. As promised at the beginning of the function, just one round and it’s an early night for Seungwan (and Joy and herself, to be fair). Seungwan’s got her parents to call, Joy ci