S a m e D i f f e r e n c e

By LilylilyM
Song Mino – Lee Seunghoon
PG-13. (Deep)Angst. Alternative universe.
Inspired from ELLE x WINNER Project and my fanvid.
 

If you go fifteen minute up north from Seoul, get on the ramp of the first highway in the right hand side, it would take you to a long road that leads to an area that not many people know of. The drive would take two hours or so, and bit by bit, the city and buildings are left behind as you encounter nature. A raw road replaces the highway; the pavement disappears into grasses. The fresh air and the broad field would immerse your senses with the chilling feel on your skin, the vivid color of flowers in your eyes; the everlasting sky that runs beyond a visible horizon normal eyes could see make you feel pleasantly lost. You can’t help but inhale every bits of air, as if you want to take in everthing: the sound of wind, birdsings, willow gently flowing onto the young grasses. When you stop the car under the biggest tree closest to the sideway where the road stops, it will take you another fifteen minutes to walk across the field to where you would find an old small wooden house painted in amber. You then can lightly knock three times at the door and wait for someone to answer.

Knock – knock – knock.


The sounds of your knuckle tapping on the wooden door sound exactly the same everytime you do it. No matter how many times you try, it is still those three little sounds that echo all the way to the back of the house. Then almost right away, the door cracks open, and in front of you, a boy with the brightest smile you have ever seen would stick his head out, his crescent moon shaped eyes cheerfully look at you as if he just spent all day waiting for your knock.


A wave of warmness immerses from the inside as you smile back at him and gently pat his head:


“Good afternoon. Have you been waiting for long?”


The boy’s smile broadens as he closes his eyes to enjoy the sensation of your fingers slightly touching his side head. He proceeds to open the door widely and steps outside to give you a hug. No matter how many times he does it, you are still shocked by the sudden invasion of your personal space. You would think you know what it feels like to be yourself, but the moment you feels his touch, you suddenly realize how cold you must have been the whole time. The boy smells like the sun and wild trees, as if nature etches upon his body a distinct fragrance that you might go your whole life without ever experiencing it. The scent of soil after a summer rain, of green grass at midnight, of the first sun light that hits your curtain in the morning – the types of redolence that are too easily drowned into your everyday busy life without ever being noticed. And there you are, with city dusts on your jacket, stenches of fastfood, gas and industrial smokes mixing with a trace of some cheap perfumes that wouldn’t make the best combination, standing still, trying so hard not to push the boy away because of the shame. But his tender arms still wrap around you, his head resting on one side of your shoulders, and you would close your eyes for a fast moment, holding on to the warmth that would soon fade away as soon as he steps back.


“Welcome back, Mino.” The boy holds your hands tightly as you finally get to stand face to face with him.


“Seunghoonie.” You smile back.


“You should still call me hyung, shouldn’t you?” He pretends to scoff while leading the way, all the while, still holding your hand. You walk behind him; the exposed part of his young neck behind the collar of the white shirt he is wearing moves in a up and down motion as he takes you to the usual spot: an abandoned play field. He releases your hand and steps toward his favorite swing. You sit on a rocking horse that used to be a part of a merry go round, watching him playfully swinging with both his feet up in the air.


“So, tell me about it.” He calls at you from afar.


“About what?” You call back from your spot.


“Your life. Your work. Your family. Anything at all.” Seunghoon calls out again, his voice gets lost in the wind as he swings too fast.


“I would love to…” You smile at Seunghoon, whose brightest smile in the sun incises from within you something like pain. You are about to answer, but then you stop in the middle of the sentence and start to remember. “But you don’t know any of them.” 


“I can’t hear you! What did you just say?”He asks again. “How is Taehyunie? Seungyoonie? And Jinwoo hyung, how is he? Are they still well?” He finally stops the swing and walks towards you. In a fast reflection, you think you just stepped back when you see him coming closer.


“Seunghoonie ah,” you try to hide the uneasiness in your voice. It is good that you still find your voice after all. “We talked about this before.”


“What did we talk about? I can’t remember.” Seunghoon doubtfully looks at you; his head slightly tilts in confusion. “Where are we again?” He suddenly stops as if he realizes he is in some unfamiliar place. He looks around, and around, and around, until his whole body moves in a circle, and you just stay there watching it. “Where are we? And how come you look like this, are you Mino? Are you the boy who was with me?” You hear nonsensical questions coming from a Seunghoon that no longer has the same shape and voice as you always know. His face becomes blurry, his outfits keep changing color, his gestures mix up, and he would very soon turn into something you don’t recognize. 




It always happens when your brain hits a point where it is temporarily distracted.

You just stay there watching it, wishing that you could just disappear into thin air and not having to see this any longer. Then you remember that you don’t have to wish. You just need to open your eyes. 

And when you do, it will be much, much, later that you would ever find the courage to do this again.




“Don’t leave me here.” You hear Seunghoon’s voice when your subconscious is about to be shaken up. You find yourself standing in that field again, flowers in your hand. Next to you, Seunghoon is blowing a dandelion. He is wearing a soft bordeux wool top, his hair shaved neatly on the back of his head with the bang longer than usual. You remember this. You have seen this before. But of course, you would have seen everything, for everything Seunghoon does in this space is something you either have witnessed, or that of what the vast knowledge you have about him allow you to imagine. 


“Ya Song Mino, why would you blow all my dandelions, I was saving it for later.”


Suddenly you are twenty-one again. You look at both of your arms, and raise your hand to touch your clothes. You were wearing that same expensive brand vest that you used to like so much. From afar, you might even hear the noises of your old teammates. Seunghoon asks you again, his voice half-upset, half-teasing, but you apologize anyway. You say sorry to him like the exact same thing you have done on that day of many, many years ago, when you were twenty-one and he was twenty-two, when they were still teammates of a famous band.


Seunghoon laughs the very same laughs that might have ingrained in your mind from way earlier than when this happened.


“I was kidding.”


“Of course you were.” You say, but nothing comes out of your mouth. Not one single sound. How could it, because what you just said wasn’t in the conversation that had taken place somewhere else in your past. No matter how many times you revisit this place, it is the same conversation and the same event that will not be altered.


“Hyung, I’m sorry.” You say anyway. Now that you look like a twenty-one, it isn't hard to call him the way you used to. Seunghoon hyung, the sound of it lingers on the tip of your tongue like the bittersweet after-taste of  dark chocolate.

“How long are we shooting this again?” Seunghoon keeps playing with some types of plants that he found on the ground. “I’m hungry, I will eat the whole chicken when we get home.”


“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”


“You can’t have the whole chicken before bedtime. Your body gains weight easily, sorry about that.” Seunghoon jokes, but he apologizes right away in a sincere voice. “I was just kidding, eat whatever you want.”


You remember this. You were a little hurt that day when Seunghoon pretended to be Seungyoon and nagged at you. Seunghoon knew all your little secretive anxieties, and he usually was very understanding, but occasionally, he’d use it to tease you. 


“Hyung, why did you do that?” 


“Aish I said I’m sorry. You can have my whole chicken then. You’re gonna let me go to bed with an empty stomach, huh? Because I have so much stored fat to burn?” He yells at you, and at one point of your life, that sentence must have been the funniest thing you have ever heard.


“Can you at least tell me, please?” You plead. And plead, and pleade. From your mouth, all that comes out was nonsensical jokes and laughter. You almost roll on the ground laughing if you weren’t afaird that the borrowed outfit will get dirts on it. 


“Seunghoon. Just one thing, please.”


“Yes! We’re coming.” Seunghoon leans toward where the noises are and answers their call. He stands up and offers his hand to you. You take it. You stand up from your position – the twenty-one version of yourself walks out of you and together with Seunghoon, he starts going toward the blurry faraway crowd that your mind fails to repaint. They walk into the that halo light and everything suddenly vanishes.

Only you, in your dusty jacket filled with smoke and the smell of fast food and alcohol, sitting on the ground of that same field which now has become more and more like an abandoned area are left. That's you, Song Mino, thirty-five year old, DJ of an unpopular night club, working two jobs and struggling to make ends meet every month, laying on your tiny messy bed of a small inner city apartment, open your eyes welled up with old tears after another dream has ended.  You, Song Min Ho, whose life stopped making sense many years ago when reality suspended and replaced by this vivid recurring fantasy.

You still haven’t asked the last question.



It’s not like you haven’t asked this question every time you revisit this place. It doesn’t make any difference. But you still ask, every single time.



“Seunghoonie ah.” Your voice almost crack.



“Why did you jump?”

End.