Every day was the same.

His alarm went off at six o’clock every morning, even on weekends.  He would roll out of bed, take a shower, and eat breakfast.  Before seven came around, he would be dressed for work and on his way to the bus stop two blocks down from his apartment with his briefcase in hand.  The rest of the day would crawl by as he created spreadsheets and charts he didn’t care about, eat lunches he’d forget to pack, and endure through a job he didn’t like. 

Occasionally, once or twice a week, he’d meet a client that would recognize him from his younger days as a star.  They’d reminisce about his popularity and vocal talents, but only briefly because he couldn’t stand to talk about it for more than a few minutes.  After fake smiles, meaningless flattery, and signing of contracts, he’d make his way back to the office to check in with his boss before calling it a day.

The evenings were usually the worst.  Dinner was often whatever he still had left over in the fridge that hadn’t gone mouldy.  Turning on the television, he would waste away his night with beer and naps.  That often left him sleepless until the wee hours of the morning when he would finally fall asleep again only to be awoken by his alarm the next morning to start a brand new, yet routine, day.

When was the last time he had hummed to himself?  When was the last time he had watched a music program?  Heck, when was the last time he’d even listened to music?  He couldn’t remember.  It’d been over seven years of this painful, yet safe, way of life for him.  Seven years… since the accident.

If he could go back, he would have endured the pain.  He would have pushed away his first bottle of soju and picked up a microphone instead.  Rather than drowning himself in the guilt of having survived the accident without a scratch, he would have made more of an effort to console his best friend who had nearly lost his life.  Rather than focusing on his guilt that he now recognized as pointless, he should have held tight on to his best friend’s hand and helped pull them through all of this.

Instead, he’d looked away.  He let things fall apart; he let the team die.  He had lost his best friend, and his music.  And now, seven years later, he was still alive… but dead as well.  Because even though Yoo Youngjae survived the freak accident, his soul had been lost on that beautiful night all those years ago.

Now it was too late.

As Youngjae chewed his instant noodles, he looked listlessly out the window of his small apartment.  The night had fallen hours ago as winter approached and a soft blanket of stars scattered across the sky.  It had been reminiscent of that night and he couldn’t help but remember what he so desperately wanted to forget.

He looked away as his phone rang in his pocket.  Setting down his chopsticks, he pulled it out and answered without looking.

“Hmm, omma,” he said, his voice tired, “I’m eating dinner.  What’s wrong?”  He stirred the now soggy noodles in his cup and looked at it with disinterest.

“Youngjae-yah,” his mother said softly, “What are you doing this Christmas?  Your father and I were thinking that you should come home this year.  Your brother is bringing his girlfriend so we thought it’s a good chance to-”

“I’m probably working overtime at the company,” he said, “Things have been busy lately.  I don’t think I can come.”  He looked up again at the sky as the moon appeared behind a small wisp of cloud.

His mother was silent for a brief moment before she spoke again.  Her voice quivered as she asked gently, “When will you let go?  When will I get to see my son again?”

Youngjae felt his chest tighten at her words.  It had been five years since he’d moved out of his parents’ home.  He hadn’t visited once because being there reminded him of his dark days after the accident.  He missed them, but he was terrified he would relapse back to those days of pain.

“I’m sorry, omma,” he said, “If I can… I will try to come.”  He knew he wouldn’t; if it was an easy thing to do, he would have done it already.  Still, he wanted to give her at least some hope, even if it was false.

“Okay,” his mother said, “I love you.  Call me more often.”

“I will,” he said before hanging up the phone. 

Looking down at his cooled dinner, he sighed and carried it to the kitchen trash.  Dumping it without much thought, he walked over to his television and turned it on.  As he flipped through the channels, he stared aimlessly at the screen.  Like the images that flashed across his eyes, thoughts and memories of the past danced in his mind.  They were memories of his days on stage underneath the bright lights and the fervent screams of their fans; of long nights at the hotel rooms chatting about their concerts.  Memories of his fulfilling days as a proud member of B.A.P, of getting scolded by Yongguk, of getting pampered by Himchan, or teasing Jongup and of looking up at Junhong.  But most of all… memories of sharing laughs with his precious friend and confidant Daehyun.  He remembered Daehyun’s mischievous smiles before a bad deed, his anxious frown before a concert, and his sincere emotions as he belted out songs from the heart.  They were memories that he so desperately treasured… and yet so desperately wanted wiped from his mind.  He frowned as he began changing channels faster.  He didn’t want to think about the past; he didn’t want to think about anything.

He blinked and deepened his frown as the channel stopped on a music program.  He continued pressing the button on his remote but the channel remained unchanged.  He looked at the remote in his hand and checked the batteries; they had run out of charge.  Sighing with frustration, he got up and walked over to the cabinets where he’d stashed his batteries.  Rummaging through the mess, he tried to find the appropriate AAs.  He tried to block out the sound of music filling the room from his speakers but it was no use; try as he might, he couldn’t shut off his ears.

A soft melody filled the small space inside of his apartment and penetrated through his body.  It stirred the heart he had worked so hard to numb and unearthed the emotions he had tried so hard to bury.  The pain, the loneliness, the regret… all of it returned as the song filled every thirsty fiber of his being with the water that was music. 

He gripped the handle of the cabinet tightly as he searched faster through the piles of broken electronics and discarded technology.  He needed to find the batteries so he could change the channel; so he could turn the music off; so he could return to the safety of feeling nothing.  His frustration grew as his emotions filled up his chest.  He let out a soft cry of desperation as he pushed aside old phones, remotes, and wires but still, the batteries were nowhere to be found.

In a moment of uncontrollable frustration, he swept everything inside the cabinet out onto the floor in a mess.  He could feel hot tears rolling down his face as he tried to find the batteries.  He only wanted the batteries.  Still, they couldn’t be found.  Screaming as frustration and regret suffocated him, he threw the remote control across the room and sat against the cabinet as the song continued to drown him. 

He sobbed into his hands as his body shook.  Every emotion he had thought he’d suppressed came floating up to the surface.  Regret for suggesting he and Daehyun go out for dinner that night; the horror of watching the cab spin out of control on the icy roads; the desperation of watching Daehyun suffocate as blood filled his lungs; and the helplessness of finding out that Daehyun had lost his voice.  All of it came rushing back to him and he could do nothing but pray that the wound would close.  He thought it had but it had all been artificial.  It had so easily ripped open again and this time, he wasn’t sure he could wait for the numbness to settle in again.

As the song ended, he looked up through blurred vision at the television.  It was over… at least the song was.  In its place, time had been shifted and once again, Youngjae found himself standing in the hospital staring into Daehyun’s hospital room. 

Was it really too late?  It was for his career with B.A.P… and it was for Daehyun’s voice, that was for certain.  But was it too late to salvage the life he had now?  Was it too late to rekindle his relationships that he had treasured so deeply? 

He stood and wiped the snot and tears on his sweater sleeves.  As he looked down at the mess on his floor, he felt a new feeling fill the gaping hole in his chest.  It was a feeling he hadn’t experienced since his younger days.  It was determination.  He was determined to make things as right as they could be… even if it meant starting all over again.

“Daehyun-shi!”

Daehyun looked up as his manager called him over.  Setting the box of carrots aside, he walked over and bowed politely.

His manager held up a moldy bag of spinach with a frown.  “Did you just stock the spinach?” he asked, irritation clearly evident in his gaze as he looked at Daehyun.

Daehyun nodded, feeling his own irritation in his chest.  He knew what this was about; it was always the same thing with his manager.  If it wasn’t blaming him for rotten vegetables, it was because the lettuce heads were crooked.  His manager clearly disliked him and he was sure it stemmed from jealousy.  Perhaps the middle-aged man was jealous of his past, or maybe it was because the man had yet to marry and yet women flocked to Daehyun.  Regardless, he held a grudge and Daehyun could do nothing about it.

“How many times have I told you to be careful of bad products?” the manager said, throwing the bag of spinach at him, “I know you’re deaf but are your eyes bad too?”

Daehyun felt his temper rise as he glared at the man.  He wasn’t deaf, he wanted to say, he just couldn’t speak.  He crumpled the spinach in his hands as he bit his lip to try and hide his anger.  It was futile; he knew it.  He was at the mercy of his manager.  Not many employers were interested in hiring a mute, much less a mute that used to be famous.  It would cause unnecessary attention to their business and eventually, it could translate to big trouble. 

“What’s with that look?” his manager said, raising an eyebrow and squaring his chest, “You think just cause you used to do a little singing and dancing that you can act this way?”  He jabbed a finger at Daehyun’s chest.  “Get of your high horse, mister,” he sneered, “It’s over for you, Mr. I’m-famous.”

Daehyun clenched his jaw as he used every ounce of self-control to stop himself from punching the sneer off the man’s face.  He considered quitting and stuffing the mouldy spinach into the man’s nasty mouth but his thoughts were cut short as someone interrupted them.

“There’s an upset customer in aisle nine, sir,” the young woman said, batting her eyelashes at the manager, “I think she wants to speak with you.”  She glanced at Daehyun quickly before widening her smile at the manager.

The manager straightened his shirt and gave her a greasy smile.  “Of course, Lina-shi,” he said sweetly before turning back to Daehyun, “I’m warning you, Jung Daehyun-shi.  One more stunt and your is out of here.”  Lifting his head, he walked off towards aisle nine with a last smile at Lina.

“Ugh,” Lina commented, as she walked over to Daehyun, “It hurts my eyes to look at him.”  She shuddered and looked at Daehyun with amusement, “He doesn’t do much for my nose either.”  She wrinkled it and waved the air in front of her face.

Daehyun laughed silently, appreciative of what she’d just done.  Song Lina was a young university student near the end of her education.  She’d taken up the job shortly after Daehyun had been hired.  She’d started out as a star-struck fan too until she had gotten past the artificial things and finally realized the reality for him.  He had been thankful for it; not many did, especially in his hometown of Busan.  Most people he came across were either too busy jeering at him or too busy pitying him.  Fortunately, he had at least one person that could understand him a little bit.

He sighed as he looked at the mushed spinach in his hands.  It was an honest mistake; he had missed the bit of mold growing in the center of the bag.  He was glad he had held it together; he couldn’t afford to get fired yet again.

Years after his recovery from the accident, he had learned to move on with life.  He’d lost everything that night, sure, but he had learned to deal with it.  His first few years had been rough after moving back home.  Those days had been dark and he had been a nightmare to his family and his friends.  Most left him alone but his family didn’t give up on him.  When he found out that he would be an uncle to his brother’s child, he knew he had to get himself together.  So he had tried to find work but that proved harder than he’d thought.  He turned down all offers related to music; he couldn’t bear being around it at the time so he settled for part-time work. 

His first job had been terrible; people flocked to the restaurant to get a glimpse of him and it had impeded with business enough that he’d eventually been fired.  His second job hadn’t been much better; his manager treated him with inappropriateness that could only be summarized as ual harassment.  He had quit that one with much less regret.  Finally, he landed a job here, at the local grocers.  Though it was a completely different universe from what he’d been used to as the main vocal of B.A.P, he managed to get buy.  Now, years later, he was still in charge of the produce section.

“What are you thinking about?” Lina asked, nudging him, “You have a contemplative look on your face.  That or your severely in need of a toilet.”  She grinned at him and tried to lighten the mood.

Daehyun shook his head and laughed in exasperation.  He pointed to his box of carrots and waved at her before heading over.  Tossing the bag of spinach mush into the bottom of the cart, he began stacking the carrots with a sigh.  It wasn’t long before the overhead song caught his attention.  As usual, he felt a familiar twinge of sadness in his chest before he quickly pushed it aside. 

He still loved music; he didn’t think he would ever stop.  Still, listening to it brought him a nostalgic pang of aching in his heart that he still had trouble dealing with.  He missed the stage and the lights.  He missed the fan chants and the green lights bobbing in the crowd.  Most of all, he missed his group members.  He knew they were doing well in their own way.  From what he’d read on the news, Yongguk and Junhong had gone solo after the accident.  Himchan moved into modelling and Jongup had returned to his B-Boying.  As for Youngjae…

Daehyun set the carrot down and sighed.  He hadn’t heard about Youngjae.  In fact, he was sure the last time he’d seen him was the night of the accident.  When he’d came around in the hospital, they had told him Youngjae had survived without a scratch.  Daehyun… he hadn’t been so lucky.  The news had washed all the color from his life and he withdrew into the dark corners of his mind.  By the time everything had finally set in, he was already on his way back to Busan.  He had been too busy wallowing in self-pity to contact Youngjae and Youngjae hadn’t tried to contact him.  Their close relationship just… died like that.

Setting down the last carrot, Daehyun wheeled the empty cart into the back and pulled off his gloves.  Glancing at the clock, he walked into the employee change room and shrugged out of his apron and work uniform.  He gave his head a little shake before pulling on his winter coat and hat.  Taking his backpack, he punched out of the clock and waved goodbye to Lina as he passed.

The cold air outside seemed to push back his thoughts.  Taking a deep breath, he walked out towards the bus stop.  The ride home was short and uneventful as usual.  He walked towards his parents’ place with heavy feet. 

Even though years had passed, they still fussed over him.  Their attention unintentionally made things worse for him but he couldn’t bring himself to tell them to leave him alone.  He had thought about moving out again but was sure his measly wage from the grocery store wouldn’t be enough.  Though he’d saved a bit during his days as B.A.P, he had planned to use the money for his parents’ and his retirement.  Besides, he was sure his parents would throw a fit if he mentioned moving out at this time.

Sighing again, he snuggled deeper into his scarf and pushed open the gate to his home.  Taking out his keys, he unlocked the front door and walked inside.  He relished the warmth and quickly kicked off his shoes. 

Hearing his return, his mother poked her head out from the living room and greeted him with an abnormally wide smile.  “You’re back, Daehyunnie?” she called, “It must be cold out.”

Daehyun nodded and raised an eyebrow at her as she came over to take his coat.  Though she was usually chipper, she seemed much happier than usual.  His question must have been written on his face because she quickly placed her hand on his back and pushed him towards the living room.

“Guess who came to see you today?” she asked excitedly, “Oh I thought I’d never see that boy again!  Honestly, I don’t know what took him so long!”

Confused, Daehyun let himself be pushed into the living room.  He stopped in his tracks, however, as the young man in the living room turned around to face him.  He dropped his backpack as he felt his heart suddenly squeeze tightly in his chest.  His breath caught in his throat as all sound seemed to fade from his ears.  He could feel stinging in the back of his eyes as he looked at the heartbroken face of his best friend Yoo Youngjae.

Authors notes:

I swear, I honestly started this with one-shot intentions.  As of right now... that might not happen -_-.  It's starting to turn into a ficlet and I don't know how to stop it!!  Anyway, I'll try to keep it at four parts maximum!