Listen-- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3vx2k-XYxg

Listen to "Home" (u'll see it halfway thru the chapter) --https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8mVbdjec0pA

I'm going to write this chappie in 1st person, just fyi. Enjoy~

---

Kim Myungsoo was my best friend.

We were friends for so long, I had forgotten most of what had happened when we first met. 

Except for one thing: a slide.

Someone sliding down on a slide. A big, spinny, bright red slide. One that most kindegarteners would find irresistible.

That was all I remembered.

But that didn't matter.

Because Myungsoo was my best friend. 

With me.

I was always wondering why he chose to be friends with me.

Me. 

A shy, quiet girl of 9 years. A girl who was girly, petite, and polite. A girl who wore dresses, and had pigtails. A girl who was well-mannered; a girl who was scared easily. 

I was innocent.

In the 4th grade, we were in the same class. Miss Yoon was our teacher.  She was sweet and caring. She liked me because I was intelligent, and helpful. She liked Myungsoo because he was "adorable" she said, and clever. But the favour of Miss Yoon didn't matter.

It was all because Myungsoo was my best friend.

In the time that passed, in the years of being his best friend...

In all the memories, in all the experiences, in all the good ol' times....

Was something.

 

 

I am no longer innocent.

It was all because Myungsoo was my best friend.

---

Grade 4, Class 2B.

Both Myungsoo and I were in that class.

How could the great Kim Myungsoo be in Class 2B?

The best of the best always entered Class 1A. It was obvious that he belonged there. He had good looks, even as a young 9 year old; he was smart, and studied hard. He had top grades in class.

Most of all, he had talent. 

He could sing. He could play the guitar, even back then.

His voice was beautiful. It was crisp, in-tune, and melodious. Soft. Soothing. And plain superb.

Matching his singing with him playing guitar, he would just be perfect.

I loved it when he sang. 

"Hey, Eunkyung," he said to me one day, "What song do you want me to play?"

"Eh?"

"Pick a song," he said, flashing me his dimpled smile.

"Play..."I said, trying to think of one, but none would come to my head, "play...." I kept racking my head for a song, and then blurted, "Home by Gabrielle Aplin,"

"Home? I would've thought you would have picked a kpop song," he said, smiling, but nodding his head all the same.

He stared playing the song, messing up a bit in the beginning, but then going into a steady beat. He took a deep breath and sang:

With every small disaster,

I'll let the waters stil,

take me away to someplace real...

Cause they say home

is where your heart is set in stone,

it's where you go when you're alone,

it's where you go to rest your bones.

It's not just where you lay your head,

it's not just where you make your bed;

as long as we're together,

does it matter,

where we go?

Home, home, home, home.

He finished the song, looking up at me, smiling, and I grinned back, applauding.

I love it when you perform for me. I wanted to say.

I couldn't.

"Good job!" I managed. He smiled again. And started strumming into random melodies, and singing some random choruses from random songs. When he was done, I praised him again.

In those months, he would only perform in front of me, and occasionally for his parents. But when one time they snapped, and told him they were too busy to deal with his music hobbies, and that playing guitar was useless anyway, he stopped.

Stopped playing.

He told me what happened that day. 

He refused to play. He refused to touch his guitar. He even refused to sing. He spoke in a monotonous voice. It was sad. Sad to see how he wanted to throw his instrument away. Sad to see how after a while, he refused to speak unneccessarily, and barely talked to me.

He didn't cry. He didn't need to. It was obvious that his entire soul, heart, his being was crying.

He gave up.

So, why was Kim Myungsoo in Class 2B?

He had explained, "If  someone has no time for my talents, they aren't good enough."

I had no doubt that he belonged in Class 1A. Everyone felt the same with me, too. Of course he was meant to be there. With the future business men, the future performers, the future scientists, the future doctors, and the future idols. With the successful people, not with the commoners. 

 

But, still I felt sad about another thing.

The fact that the reason he was in Class 2B was because he felt unfit in the rich kid's class.

And not because he wanted to stay with me.

 

 

Am I being delusional?