“Why are you eating lunch with me?” you ask Him Chan with an edge of annoyance in your voice.
“Because I can,” he says, munching on his pizza slice.
You shake your head and sigh, knowing that you could not do anything about it. From the corner of your eye, you catch Zelo’s figure walk past. When he sees Him Chan next to you, his face registers mixed emotions of surprise, anger, sadness, and something else that you could not recognize.

“Zelo, you can come and eat here if you want, we’re co-workers after all.” you invite him.
“Okay,” he accepts, and takes the seat next to you.
Him Chan and Zelo look at each other with some familiarity between them.
“Hyung, what are you doing with Madeline?” asks Zelo to Him Chan.
They know each other? You raise an eyebrow out of curiosity.
“Just eating, waeyo? (why?)” says Him Chan in a somewhat mocking voice.
“Nothing,” he says, which is followed by a long silence.

The music pounds in your ears, and your shoes squeak against the wooden flooring. Your forehead is dripping with sweat, and you constantly pant for a breath without stopping. Your body automatically moves to the rhythm of the song, and your muscles, as if by instinct, do whatever the music is leading you to. It is the world of dance.

You glance quickly at the clock. 4:59PM—Him Chan is coming. You run to the stereo and stop the music, placing your hands on your knees to inhale and exhale at a steady pace. You fumble through your bag for a jumper, and you pull in onto you. Wiping your forehead with the back of your hand, you pick up your bags and get ready to leave until something catches your eye.

In the corner of the room, is a guitar, peacefully sitting in its holder. You drop your bag on the ground and slowly walk to it. You run your fingers over the strings, which makes sounds the vibrates throughout the empty room. The wood is light, like the colour of sand. Recognition flashes in your eyes: laminated birch wood.

You gently pick up the guitar and take it to your hands. You carefully place your fingers into a chord and begin plucking the strings with your precise fingers. Your voice follows the music, and you begin singing.

Exchanging only our separate fates that lead to one another,
As inevitable as it seemed that we’d miss, I know we loved just as much.
When you smile, sun shine,
A brilliance you can’t fit into a framework of language,
The waves crash my heart and crumble down.

Above the dark shade of pain, at the doorsteps of farewell,
Even if I take a brutal fall, I can manage if it were for you.
Uh, Instead I’ll give myself to you who don’t know me,
Don’t cry, give me chilling laughter instead of hot tears.

Him Chan POV:
You lift the sleeve on your arm to check your watch. 5:01PM. Damn, a minute late. Before you open the door, you hear music from the room. Your hand slowly slides the handle, and you open the door ever so slightly, and the blocked noise is clearer. It is not the usual pumping of beats at a fast pace, but a silent guitar, with a voice that is too beautiful to exist in Earth.

Who's voice? You wondered who owned the voice that was soft, and gentle. When the voice reached the high notes, a chill ran up your spine, and the person’s voice harmonized with every note that vibrates from the strings of the guitar. Indescribable.

5:28PM, I’ve been listening for far too long.
“Hyung! Can we go now?” yells a voice from the end of the corridor.
The singing, as if on instant, stops, and you hear the rustling of feet and the hasty placement of the guitar in its holder. Not wanting to wait any longer, you push open the doors and find Madeline standing with her arm stretched out, probably to reach the door handle. She nods and passes you, swerving her way around your body.

The members file in, and begin stretching. Despite the loud ringing of the music, you still could not forget her voice. Like a stamp, it was imprinted in your mind, maybe to stay forever.

“Okay, we better polish ourselves up before the debut,” explains Yongguk in his deep base-like voice.
The members nod their head in agreement.
“Tomorrow, right?” asks Jongup.
“Yeah,” answers Zelo, while he plays around with his blond hair while taking a selca.
Yongguk ruffles his hair, with a smirk playing on his lips.

Everyone leaves, shouting, jumping and cheering, filled with newfound adrenaline which was pumping fresh in their blood.

Your POV:
That familiar figure enters the coffee shop again. Zelo. There was something unsettling about his presence; like you do not want him there, yet you want him to stay next to you. Like you want to scream, and yell every foul name in the world at him, yet be kind, and smile at him at the same time.

His light blonde hair looked white underneath the sunlight, and he had a gentle look in his eyes. His fingers were slender and light, and he looked, happy. Almost happy. Too engrossed in your thoughts, you carelessly burn yourself from the coffee machine.
“Crap,” you swear under your breath.
Before you could turn to the sinks to wash your burnt hand, Zelo bumps into you. He looks at your seared skin and grabs your wrist. He runs the tap on cold water and pulls your hand to it.

At first contact, it stung, and you wanted to pull your hand away from the blinding pain, but Zelo’s firm grip wouldn’t allow you to. Soon, the freezing water became soothing against your swelling skin, and you sigh of gratefulness. It is only until you see Zelo’s blushing face that you realize you were holding onto his hand. You shrug and let go. Checking the time, you see that your work shift is over, and you bow politely to Zelo and the ahjumma before you leave.