10

Her agile fingers scanned through the pile of clothes. Her lips pursed in concentration and her body was bent over the pile. Myungsoo noted that the woman in front of him resembled Jiyeon in more than one way. No, correction: Jiyeon resembled her in many ways. Her thick, chestnut hair was combed back into a messy bun. Locks of hair that escaped tumbled down her shoulders in waves.

“Ah, here they are,” she breathed as she pulled a t-shirt and trousers from the pile. She handed them to Myungsoo’s outstretched hands and sent him a smile. Alluring like Jiyeon’s. Myungsoo managed an awkward smile and muttered his thanks as she led him to the toilet.

“When you’re done, come out and have some hot chocolate, okay?” motherly concern outlined her voice as she conveyed her offer. The warmth in her voice reached and tugged at his heart and he found himself smiling at her.

“Of course.” He said slipping inside the toilet. Closing the door, he heard her mutter something about the horrid weather before walking away.

White: the color of the t-shirt he was wearing. He stared at the mirror while wringing the last of the dampness out of his hair. Printed on the front was the word “UNPLUG” in block letters. He wore a pair of plain black pants that reached just above his ankles. Nonetheless, he walked out with overflowing confidence, as if he was wearing the most expensive material and not some plain t-shirt and pants that barely fit him. He strode to the living room to find Jiyeon’s parents’ discussing something in hushed tones. Upon seeing him, Mrs. Park’s face lit up.

“Come and have your hot chocolate,” her warm tone beckoned him near and he went to sit on the sofa. He clasped the mug with his two hands and took a sip from the brown liquid. The warmth swept his tongue and filled his mouth with a saccharine tinge right after the liquid was swallowed.

“I’ll get some biscuits for you to nibble on,” Mrs. Park’s sentence was embellished with a smile. She stood up and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Jiyeon’s friend eh? What’s the name again?” Mr. Park’s deep voice now took control of the conversation. His eyes trailed away from the piece of paper he was reading and fell on him.

“Y-yes,” Myungsoo found himself stumbling over his words. He was uneasy under the scrutiny of those wise orbs that were so similar to Jiyeon’s, “Kim Myungsoo, sir.”

Mr. Park’s grim frown transformed into a grin so wide, Myungsoo thought it might just crack from his face. Amused, he said, “Don’t act all formal with me, kid.”

“You seem to be under an impression that Jiyeon is the mysterious kind of person,” he continued after a silence. Then, he leaned in, as if to tell a valuable secret. “Jiyeon is not that kind of a person at all.

“When she was a girl, three or four years old, there were two things that she hated the most: sleeping and taking a bath.”

Myungsoo smiled, imagining how she would have refused to obey her parents when told to do so. Curious, he leaned in as well. “So, what happened?”

“Every time it’s bathing time, she would escape from the toilet upstairs. She would run half , down the hallways, all the way here and curl up on the sofa right where you are sitting right now. We had to pry her hands away from the sofa and carry the crying little girl all the way back to the toilet time and again.”

When Myungsoo looked up into the man’s eyes, he saw that it was distant, as if he was seeing the whole scene all over again. Myungsoo imagined the little Jiyeon jumping down the stairs, howling. A smile landed on his lips and when he looked up he noticed that the man was smiling too, his face bright with laughter.

“And she never slept during the day. I wonder where she got the energy from,” he continued, “She was the one who woke up in the wee hours of the morning. She would barge into our room and pounce on the bed. Then, she would shake us awake. If we did not wake up, she would scream into our ears until we did.”

Myungsoo could not help but smile at her. But then, a realization shimmered into his mind and his words repeated in his ears. She would scream into our ears, scream into our ears, scream. Baffled, he asked, “She could scream?”

The man did not seem to get it and tilted his head, like a professor addressing a question to his student.

Myungsoo rephrased his question, “You mean she wasn’t mute before?”

“Oh,” he said vaguely.

A shadow crossed his face and his eyes darkened. Myungsoo suddenly regretted that question. A silence stretched on and just when Myungsoo thought he would not answer that question, he said in a low voice.

“When she was seven, she… accidentally…drank this kind of… some… corrosive liquid. Then that messed up her… vocal chords,” he was choking on his words. This man, who Myungsoo thought was the merriest man on earth, was choking on his own words. Then, after sometime, he said, “And she just couldn’t find her voice anymore.”

“Oh,” it was Myungsoo’s turn to say that expression.

Playing with the warm mug in his hands, he knew that the man –with much difficulty—was trying to put it in the simplest way ever. He looked up, directly into Myungsoo’s eyes and sent him a faint smile. Not meeting his gaze, the man said.

“She was so loud back then. When I look back to it, I wonder if we would still hear her bubbly voice if that never happened.”

A thoughtful silence followed after the sentence. Mrs. Park chose that moment to barge in, carrying a tray of biscuits with her. Her quick energy reverberated across the room, sending the heavy silence away. Settling the tray on the table, she said, “Have some, Myungsoo. What is taking that girl so long?”

As if on cue, Jiyeon came ambling down the stairs, her wet hair clinging on her scalp. She wore a pair of pale pink pajamas with a small picture of a bear sewn on the centre.

“Ah, speaking of the devil. Come here, Jiyeon. Have your hot chocolate,” Mrs. Park said.

Jiyeon gave her a studious smile and went to sit beside her mother. She took a sip from the mug and cringed. She made some hand gestures and a short laughter by her parents afterwards.

“She thinks her hot chocolate is not that hot anymore,” Mrs. Park explained.

At the same time, her husband snorted and sneered mockingly.

“That’s because you took long, princess. Whatever did you do in the toilet?”

Jiyeon pouted and took another sip of her not-so-hot chocolate. Myungsoo took one biscuit and bit into it. He was suddenly knocked by the realization of how hungry he was and took another one.

“So how is school?” Mrs. Park’s voice filled his ears.

He looked up and realized that the question was addressed to him.

“Uh… fine,” Myungsoo struggled with the answer that he was to provide.

He had never encountered this kind of questions before, finding the apt answer was well, hard. But his doubt was assured when she asked again.

“What was your position in class last semester?”

She was looking at him earnestly and he shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

“One.”

He said matter-of-factly though he had never felt more self-conscious in his life.

“You’re a clever boy.”

Though it was but a passing remark it had tugged his heart nonetheless. He felt proud and was craving for more compliments like a little boy would from his parents. His own parents were too busy to even see let alone appreciate his efforts in trying to appease them, and before long he had given up altogether trying to get their attention.

“Our girl here didn’t do that bad either, she was second in class,” She beamed.

Her voice brought him out of his reverie and his head instantaneously turned towards Jiyeon. He smiled inwardly as all the heat rushed to her face. Her cheek flushed to a pretty shade of pink.

“Aigoo, you’re embarrassing her,” Mr. Park casually said causing her to turn even redder.

All the three of them looked at Jiyeon and her reaction had lead them bursting out laughing. Refusing to be left out Jiyeon laughed along. From the corner of Myungsoo’s eye he watched as she lolled her head slightly backward, her long brown dangled loosely from head and for a split second he was reminded of his sister.

She looked beautiful with her cheeks still colored in delicate pink and her lustrous smile.

“Oh, Myungsoo, have you informed your parents that you will be staying here?” it was Jiyeon’s mother who asked, her usual concern her voice.

“Yes, don’t worry,” he said, unblinking.

Lying had become part of his life and he did it too often until no more guilt could ravage his mind. Gradually, it became as easy as breathing. But lying to this motherly figure had somehow conjured some of the remorse that had long gone. He shook it off immediately.

“Good. Because the last time Jiyeon came back home late at night, her mom was crying with worry. She was crying,” Mr. Park’s sentence was adorned with laughter.

Jiyeon soon followed, laughing at what seemed like her stupidity where it had just been her tender loving care.

“Oh, please,” Mrs. Park winked, her mood not soiled by his exposure, “You can be stupider than that, you know. Remember when you were trying to woo me?”

Her husband squinted his eyes and searched his mind. When the memory revived in his head, astonishment flashed in his face and he said, “Oh, no, no, you don’t. Don’t say that out loud.”

“What is it?” Myungsoo asked earnest to know the thing this man was so embarrassed of.

“What was the poem again? Roses are red, violets are blue…” She let her voice trail out. Then, putting her hands on her chest in a dramatic way as if to act out the scene, she continued, “My love is red, and I swear it’s true.”

The room roared with raucous laughter. Jiyeon did some gestures and her mother patted her knee in amusement.

“Yes, your dad really said that,” she said, her words filtered between laughter.

“You know how long I took to write that poem?” Mr. Park expressed his hurt.

He had spent several gruesome hours thinking how to put in his raging passion in words but these two women mocked his hard work.

“That’s pretty dense, I can think of that within 5 minutes,” Mrs. Park commented, hurting his manly pride further.

“It rhymes,” Myungsoo muttered.

“Yeah! That’s more like it. These girls don’t know anything about poems,” the man smiled, happy that there was at least one person that supported him. He laced his hand across Myungsoo’s shoulder amiably.

“You should get me a son too, jagiya(honey)” he said to his wife.

Then, he exploded into a boisterous laughter that could split the air with its joy. His merriment was infectious and the rest of them found laughter thundering down their throats. Laughing at practically nothing seemed almost impossible, but Myungsoo realized that this was how it felt to be a family. They were knitted so closely and it did not matter where they were as long as they had each other. Though he was not related, he was welcomed in this family and his mind grasp desperately at the feeling because he knew that he would not experience this kind of warmth again.

Somewhere in the darkness of night, a dog howled.

“See, even the dog is trying to say that we woke him up in the middle of the night,” Mrs. Park said, remnants of laughter still in her voice. 

“Alright then,” Mr. Park said, standing up, “Let’s go to sleep.”

They all stood up and Mrs. Park collected the empty mugs and the biscuit tray. Had he eaten all the biscuits without realizing?

She passed them to Jiyeon and said, “Throw these in the sink, honey. Not literally.”

Jiyeon nodded and went to the kitchen to do as she was told. They all climbed up the stairs and Jiyeon followed after turning off the kitchen lights. Upon reaching the top, Jiyeon’s mother showed him the guest room.

“If you need anything, the toilet and Jiyeon’s room is just beside you and our room is opposite yours. And knock first,” she smiled.

“Thanks.”

After murmuring goodnights, they retired to their own rooms.

------

Myungsoo woke up sneezing, again. He had woken up for the umpteenth time that night and it had definitely irked him down to his bones. Though drowsiness still clung to every fiber of his muscles, he forced himself to a sitting position and opened his eyes.

Under the dim light of the gleaming moon, his eyes searched for the box of tissues that had been his best companion that night. After a few seconds of rummaging through those ‘treasures’ lying on his bed he finally found the thing he needed somewhere beneath those piles of crumpled tissues.

Carelessly taking one tissue from the box, he blew his nose into it.  After rounds of blowing, he was confident enough that he would not wake up until much later. He stopped. He threw the tissues on the bed lazily not caring about hygiene anymore. He was tired, and he wanted to sleep.

He raked his hair exasperatedly, annoyed that he was being deprived of his sleep.

Maybe it was sympathy, or maybe it was empathy of the angels, in which they decided enough was enough for him. And that was the last time he woke up that night before the darkness dissolved into that of a light as the sun inched its way up, welcoming a brand new day.

------

His eyes squinted due to the brightness of the day that managed to penetrate into the room. He blinked, trying to adjust his eyes. He looked at his watch.

9. 00 A.M.

Damn, he cursed. He was late for school. He jumped out of bed too quickly that he felt giddy. He put his hand on the table for support. His eyes wandered throughout the room. He observed the yellow walls and the bed sheets that rustled when he moved. Wait, his bed sheets didn’t rustle.

The memory flooded into his head. Of course, he was not at home. He was at Jiyeon’s house. As soon as the realization hit, the reality that today was Saturday sunk in. He breathed a sigh of relief. He stretched his muscles that felt stiff after the night.

He collected the crumpled tissues from the bed and dumped it in the rubbish bin in the toilet. He went to the sink and scrubbed his hands and face. He peered at his reflection in the mirror and ran his hand into his disheveled hair. He had woken up with a dull ache in his head and an unpleasant feeling in his body. Exhaustion claimed him and he was tempted to curl up in the bed and continue sleeping.

Instead, he went the opposite way and dragged himself down the stairs. He seated himself on the dining chair. Hearing the clinks of utensils from the kitchen, he knew Jiyeon was in there. His assumption was correct and Jiyeon came out of the kitchen.

“Morning,” he croaked.

Jiyeon graced him with a smile and shoved something into his hand. A thermometer.

“What do I do with this?” he asked.

Jiyeon looked at his as if he asked the stupidest question ever. True, that was a stupid question. Myungsoo sniffed, pressed the button and stuffed it in his mouth. Jiyeon nodded and disappeared again into the kitchen. Myungsoo looked around the house. It was unusually empty.

The thermometer beeped and Myungsoo hoisted his hand to pull it out. Before he could touch the thermometer, Jiyeon yanked it out of his mouth. She grinned and inspected the screen.

“Where are your parents?” he asked, swinging his legs.

She mouthed the word ‘work’ and once again abandoned him for the kitchen. Jiyeon stepped out carrying a glass of water and a bag of pills—Panadol, to be exact. She put the glass down and took a pill from the bag and gave him. When he gave her an inquiring look, she showed him the thermometer.

38.0°C.

He embedded the pill in his mouth and gulped down the water. Without realizing, Jiyeon had already gone into the kitchen. Again. Are there so many fascinating things in the kitchen? Just as he was about to stand up and check on her, Jiyeon came out. This time, she was carrying a plate of food.

She served it on the table for him to eat. It was an omelette. On further examination, it was not just a plain omelette.  The fried egg was folded into two. It was then stuffed with ham, mushrooms, red tomatoes and some juicy sauce. The egg barely covered the fillings that were overflowing. The delicious smell that crept into Myungsoo’s nose made his mouth water.

He lifted the food and took a huge bite off it. The food exploded into a diversity of brilliant flavors in his mouth. The sharp spicy taste mixed with the sweet and sour tinge that melted of his mouth. The warmth of the food covered his mouth as he bit into the savory food.

“You can cook,” he said to Jiyeon who nodded satisfactorily and scurried away.

Myungsoo continued to drown himself in the luscious flavors until a melody stopped him. He turned and found Jiyeon already seated in front of her piano, caressing the keys as if she was the person she was yearning for. The music escaped in slow, distressed voice, lamenting about heartbreak and a lost love. Pain engulfed the song. It was as if she had sliced through her own heart and the feelings flowed as rapidly as her blood that oozed out the wounded heart. But the heart was still beating: faint it was, but the heartbeat was still there, struggling to keep itself alive.

Myungsoo knew this piece. It was Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven. Fascinated, he went to sit beside her on the stool. She did not flinch when he sat on her right, as if she knew that he was going to do so. She ended her song with a tearful note.

“Hey, want to compose a duet?” Myungsoo asked after the silence that stretched after the ending.

Jiyeon turned and nodded, smiling as if he had suggested the best idea ever. She bent down to take several pieces of blank music sheets and a pencil.

“Ready? We’ll just try out some random melodies first.”

Jiyeon nodded and started off with a few notes and Myungsoo continued, pressing the keys softly and making sure that it matched with Jiyeon’s melody. Their pace got faster, weaving a story about the struggles of life. The high notes howled and bellowed and lower notes sung, intertwining the two into one beautiful song.

They played upon the fabric of silence, giving a voice to the instrument that sang about being torn apart, broken and thrown away. They played, calling out to each other’s voices, as they told a story about having danced until their toes bled, having sung until their voices were gone, but they were thrown back into nothingness. Then, someone came into their lives, bringing a new light.

Jiyeon’s father was wrong. She had never lost her voice. It was here, speaking to him, calling to him and he answered, enthralled by the most beautiful sound that he had ever heard.

Their song bled with hope and the notes soared, towering over their feelings. Their fingers danced on the keys with grace and their hands kept crossing over each other, so that they could feel each other by touch. As the notes intensified, their heartbeats followed, matching each other’s rhythm with impeccable elegance. It was a song that had burst into hundreds of emotions that told of how two entirely different lives could wound together and become one.

A blow on the keys stopped them abruptly. For a fleeting moment, there was a complete silence: the time for them to regain their breaths. Then, they both broke into smiles.

“You remember everything?” he asked softly.

Jiyeon nodded in wonder and began writing down the notes. Myungsoo found the melody engraved in his head and he began to play them when Jiyeon forgot. He took another pencil to correct where Jiyeon was wrong. After some time, they finished writing down all they had played on paper. Myungsoo began playing parts of the song randomly and Jiyeon followed.

“What do you want to name the song?” he asked.

Though the song was not yet finished, it deserved a name. Then, an answer came through the notes, subtle, but it was there. It was an apt name that brought together the stories in their song and put it into two words:

Voiceless Cries.

-----

A/N:

Hey guys, I'm late. Yeah, I know that. Well, honestly I am deprived of ideas and I'm sorry. Well, anyways, chapter 10 is up so do comment and suscribe! :)

-Faith.

PS I'm really really sorry to keep you guys waiting. T.T