» Lyrical : Part 1 — ❝ Dissonance ❞

Dissonance : a simultaneous combination of tones conventionally accepted as being in a state of unrest and needing completion..

Thursday

August 29

19:42

Dorm Room G-342

Chung Hana liked peace and quietness. A perfect Thursday night routine was to just chill out in her dorm without going to bed too late to get ready for her class next morning. Maybe she’s get a little bit of studying done, maybe she’d write… Or rather she’d write for sure! However, her roommate had other plans.

For the past years, Hana’s luck in dorm room hadn’t been the greatest. Last year she had been matched with really loud people who totally disregarded her opinion and even her existence. Given they were on their last year and that at that point University was already chosen, they didn’t exactly hung around quietly in the room, like Hana would have wished. She had to resort to practically live out her dorm, only coming back for the night and sleeping with earplugs. Thankfully to whichever parent she had inherited it from, Hana’s biological clock was always spot-on and she had woken up with the sun for as long as she could remember.

Hopefully, this time was different. Sure, Park Sunyoung had some moments when she would be over-energetic, but the girl was engaging. She emitted brightness and warmth from every pore and Hana even wondered if she was sad sometimes. It was Sunyoung who had started talking to her. Otherwise, the brunette would have probably never said ‘Hi’ unless talked directly to. And the blonde’s cheerfulness had a way of soothing Hana’s past’s wounds. Her metaphorical wounds, of course.

On the other hand, Bae Sooji was practically the opposite. She rarely got out unless her friend was coming to get her, and she spent her days studying, barely eating, with the expression of perpetual sadness she displayed without meaning to. Sooji tried to conceal her sorrow but maybe she was still in denial of it because she failed. And while Sunyoung and Hana worried, though Hana believed it was not her place to say anything, they couldn’t get Sooji to open up.

It was that very attitude that had let Sunyoung give up on trying to get Sooji to come with her to a special event she had just organized and turn to Hana.

“I’m not going,” the short brunette protested. “Why would I go? Sooji’s not going!”

“But she does go out sometimes. You, on the other hand,” Sunyoung said as she rolled her eyes.

“But I go out all the time. I always come back to the dorm after 7.” Hana’s voice was calm but one could sense she was loosing this battle. And she herself knew it already.

“Hanging out at the library hardly counts as going out. Besides, I’ll be fun.”

Hana gave up and stood up. Taking her bag and filling it with important belongings she couldn’t live without, she followed an overjoyed Sunyoung who lead them to Fate’s Café.

“It’s open mike night!” announced Sunyoung with glee. “It was my suggestion.”

Thursday

August 29

19:58

Fate's Café

Horror built up on Hana’s face as she realized this would be the opposite of a calm Thursday. She glared at the improvised stage feeling extremely bothered as she knew it would probably mean a succession of talentless wannabe who only wanted a little bit of fame. To Hana, the only individuals who went to open mike nights were the one who already knew they didn’t and wanted to show off. And Hana wasn’t exactly feeling it.

“Stop frowning and get a table,” Sunyoung ordered seeing Hana stayed still in the middle of the room with a dissatisfied expression. “I’ll be fun. Be supportive of my projects.”

Hana rubbed her forehead with her index trying to loosen the skin and get rid of the wrinkles between her eyebrows. Sunyoung, despite the fact they had only known each other for a little bit more than a week, knew her too well already. She dropped her bag on one of the plastic chair surrounding a round table on the side of the room. She wasn’t too close to the stage, but not in the back, which wouldn’t have pleased her roommate, she was sure of it. Taking out a bill, she walked toward the counter while mentally debating the respective merits of tea and coffee. She went with tea because coffee always made her seem like a stereotypical tortured writer who lived of coffee and cigarette. At least Hana didn’t smoke.

Taking a seat, she opened her notebook trying to at least have a good time before the café became filled with people she had never planned to hang out with. She flinched as she felt someone hit her shoulder.

“Sorry,” the guy apologized as he kept on carrying musical equipment to the stage.

Being touched was not something Hana was so fond off, particularly when it came to men. To her, they didn’t mean good news and she tried to avoid them as much as possible. She wasn’t sure if it was hate or fear, but being in a room with guys was fine as long as they didn’t talk to her, touch her or breathe the air she breathed. Going back to her notebook, she flipped the pages to try to find a blank one. Never one to do things conventionally, she had decided long ago her notebook should be a free space. Why starting one the first page? Why ending on the last page? Hana had pushed away the rules and created herself freedom in her little world. Her writings, mostly poems or drabbles or inspirational prompts that could lead to a text later one, were all over the place. As she spotted a blank page toward the middle of the notebook, a purple hardcover with tattered corners and few ink spots on the fore edge, she popped open the cap of her pen and proceeded to write.

Some people found writing useless and Hana was clearly not one of them. It allowed her to clear her mind and maybe, although she would never want to admit it out loud, help concretize her personal dreams. They would never come true in real life so why not. For Hana, writing was a process she needed, felt in her bones, when certain situations occurred and imagination burst in her brain. She liked to imagine ideas floating around her in a myriad of colors and she would aspire them through her pen to fix on the paper forever. She would place word carefully next to each other, making sure they looked and sounded good together. Maybe what she wrote wasn’t always high literature. Maybe it would never become part of the cannon. But Hana deemed it fun. To her, it was art, and that was plenty.

Before she knew it, the room had been filled with people who took tables or stood in front of the stage. It was the change in the lighting that made Hana raise her eyes. Sunyoung walked to the stage and delivered a quick speech about how it was the first time it happened and she open it would set a pace for other mike nights.

“Without me!” Hana whispered between her teeth as she disconnected from the people who tried their luck at Thursday-night fame. From times to times she would look up for few seconds, see someone ridicule himself in front of the audience by singing off-key or trying to be funny in a stand-up comedy show, but she would wince in empathy and go back to her writing. Her notebook was almost full, she noticed.

Suddenly, a girl beside Hana practically screamed in happiness, quickly followed by other girls and boys who began cheering. Hana frowned and looked to the stage to see a good looking, needlessly tall, smiling boy with a guitar in his hand. He waved at the public with a toothy grin and Hana doubted he had any talent. By the way he seemed to like attention, he was probably a childish guy with a girly voice who sang insipid love songs to try to score with the ladies.

As soon as he began, she changed her mind. He was a good guitar player, she admitted. But then he started singing and she had to double-take because his voice was at least three octaves lower than she would have thought.

“How?” she wondered as she glared up his baby face.

And then, after the surprise of being wrong faded, she took time to listen to the lyrics and quickly wished she hadn’t. It was some nonsensical story about a girl and… cheese? How he could compare the two, Hana wad no idea, but she mentally apologized to her abused eardrums. She tried to block all sounds and get back to writing, but the only thing in her head was this insane cheese comparison.

The night came to an end shortly after that performance and by the way people awkwardly clapped, she knew they had not found the lyrics very inspiring.

Sunyoung met her at the table telling her that she had some supervision to do over the cleaning of the room and that she could go away first.

“What did you think?” the blonde asked her roommate.

“Not so bad…” Hana lied as she had not listened to the show one bit. “Although, the guy with the guitar should consider playing instrumental or doing covers. I don’t know who came up with these lyrics but they are dreadful. He should get help.”

She whipped around and grabbed her bag, intending on going home.

Left at the table, Sunyoung gave an embarrassed smile to Chanyeol who had been sitting beside them all along and had perked up noticing they talked about him.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

“No, it’s okay. I know I should do something about it,” he said with a weak smile.

Not feeling very comfortable, Sunyoung bailed as soon as she could, leaving Chanyeol to stare in emptiness and think, by himself. They were not really friends, but they had met on some occasions. They both had been part of the student’s welcoming committee last year but Sunyoung had decided to drop few after school activities when she got elected as Social Chair in the student council.

Chanyeol sighed. Maybe she had been right and he wasn’t cut out for composing. But again, who was she to judge? He had seen her spend all night writing in some diary of hers or something. That’s when his eyes fell on some book that was lying on the ground. 

Friday

August 30

6:37

Dorm Room G-342

Chung Hana frantically rummaged through her bag, trying to get her hand on the beloved notebook. Not finding it, she walked into the kitchen and looked around the area she would study in.

“Good morning. Are you looking for something?” Sunyoung asked from behind her laptop, a cup of coffee in her hand and a bowl of cereals next to it.

“A purple notebook, hardcover, used,” Hana described as she searched some more.

“Oh! Maybe that’s it?” Sunyoung asked as she pointed to her computer screen. Hana walked behind her to read. It was the Spotted page.

“This one,” the older girl indicated.

“To the girl who lost a purple notebook. I brought it to the Lost & Found. And you should check the last page,” Hana read. “What?”

She fled to her closet, picked some clothes to change into and after doing so, walked out.

The Lost & Found was on the first floor, right next to the main entrance in the main wing. It took less than her usual 10 minutes for Hana to run from the dorm to the small room. It was locked, as it was too early in the morning for the receptionist to work and Hana asked a security guard to open the door, pretending it was a book she absolutely needed for her first class. The guard stayed by her side as she looked through the shelves and he was the one who found it. She thanked him before getting out of the room and plopping down to a bench next to the secretary’s office, in case one had to wait. Skipping straight to the last page, she noticed it had been ripped. Gasping, she took in her hand the small sticker note that had replaced her beloved page.

“If you want the last page, come meet me in the room E-250 at noon.”

A music room, Hana realized. Sure, she would follow the blackmailer’s requests. What other choice did she have?

Holding her notebook against her chest she looked at the time. It was still 7:15 in the morning and classes didn’t start before at least 45 minutes. And she hadn’t have time to get breakfast yet.

Friday

August 30

11:41

Classroom D-220

She watched the clock ticked. As much as she liked her teacher’s introduction of the first philosophe they would study, she believed she had urgent things to do. She carefully noted the reading she would have to do, the first two chapters of The Prince by Machiavelli. From what she knew of the guy, he had some great ideas. Maybe she would gain from copying the ways of Cesare Borgia like Machiavelli suggested…

The teacher let them off for the day and she fled out of the room. She had to walk a few corridors but she soon ended up in front of room E-250. She carefully entered, not knowing what was waiting for her on the other side of the door.

Friday

August 30

12:02

Classroom E-250

The room was small and cozy, just having enough space to be filled with musical instruments one of them being a piano. Looking at it, Hana wondered why such a room would be left unlocked. She approached an electric guitar, horizontal on top of an amplifier. With a hesitant index, she a string and was surprised to only hear a week sounding metal ‘twang’. Weren’t guitars supposed to be much louder?

“It’s not plugged,” a voice told her.

Turning around in a second, she was now face to face with the guy who had stolen her notebook. With a lump of messy chestnut hair, and a tall stature that towered over her, she recognized the guy at the open mike of the day before.

“I’m Park Chanyeol,” he introduced himself with a smile.

“You are the feebleminded thief!” she accused as realization dawned upon her.

“And you are rude. But I should expect it since you were rude yesterday,” he said with a sigh. “But no, I didn’t steal anything. I found it and I was nice enough to give it back. Had it been anyone else, you probably would have never got it back.”

“Had it been anyone else, I would not be missing the last page,” she retorted coolly as if talking to someone who had a particularly hard time getting it. “Now give it back.”

“Had it not been you,” he corrected under her dubious stare. “Had it no been you, there wouldn’t be a page missing.”

Seeing how she glared at him and didn’t seem to get what she was being told, he kept going. “I followed your advice. ‘Get help’, that’s what you said. Well, I need your help.”

Hana lifted a brow because she did remember having said that but meant it in a more psychological way. Cheese, really?

“I’ve read your texts and I want to make them lyrics. They are very powerful and I feel like it could make an awesome song.”

“No!” The word had been uttered with so much conviction Chanyeol had to lean back in shock. Staring at her face, he could see anger build up in her eyes and he didn’t understand why. She should have been happy someone wanted her help or that her texts could finally get recognition. What a waste of good words it would be to keep them locked in her notebook.

“You are not going to use my texts,” Hana continued with a sharp tone. “I don’t want my very thoughts out in the open like that. Not from your doltish mouth.”

“But I get them,” he countered, ignoring her insult. “I really want to sing them because I understand them.”

She took a deep breath and pointed at him. “Prove it. What was the page you stole about? Surely you’ve read it.”

He took out the paper from his pocket and unfolded it under Hana’s wince. How dared he treat her precious writing that way? He read it one time. Without even having to look at it, Hana clearly remember her poem.

Castles of sand and castles of cards
Do you know you’ve never had the throne?
For your future, all my regards
You don’t get to take everything I own

Tried to play your life high
But luck ran low
Tried to make it bright
But it’s ever still, ever shallow

Don’t expect forgiveness
When you made me faithless
Cause you wanted to break free

Such a thing you’ve wasted
It was love while it lasted
But my final bet is on me

“It’s about a guy who left you. You don’t want to see him but you still don’t hate him because he made you the way you are. I’m guessing the breakup was really bad and that you don’t really keep in touch.”

“The break up?” she repeated. “You think this is about a guy I dated?”

“Isn’t it?” Chanyeol looked thoroughly confused.

“No, it isn’t. You don’t understand,” she realized bitterly.

She hated to admit it, but maybe she wished someone would get her. Apparently, he wasn’t that guy. She hated even more that she was disappointed.

She went to him and tried to snatch her paper away but failed. Lifting it over his head, he kept it out of her reach.

“I’ll understand it. I’m not giving this back until I get the real meaning.”

She grunted but let him off with a glare. “Fine, do what you want. It’s none of my business.” He smiled and lowered his arm only to have to jerk it back up as she tried to seize her precious page, once more.

“Go e yourself,” she snapped at him, glowering.

As Hana stormed out angrily, Chanyeol watched her go with a laugh.

Friday

August 30

13:0

Lab A-340

Hana’s last class of the day was the lab she had with her class of Organic Chemistry II. It lasted three hours every Friday from 1 to 4. Today was the first time she went to lab in that class. When the teacher asked for them to pair up, she simply waited. She wasn’t one to go toward others, and for some reason others didn’t come to her. Not that she minded.

“Who is left alone?” teacher Park Gahee asked. Noticing two hands being raised, she smiled and indicated both of them. “Good, you’ll be partners.”

Hana turned around to see whom she was going to work with. Her face fell.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Chanyeol smiled at her and lowered his hand. “So, Partner, what are we starting with?”

Author's Note :

» Don't laugh at my sonnet, I did the best I could. XD I will probably do other poetry-stuff so I might as well warn you: I'm not so good at it! ;)

» I feel like people might not notice, but Hana's teacher for the labs is Park Gahee, a spelling variation of Park Kahi, ex-leader of Afterschool. She fits the lab coat so well, somehow. ^^