[06] A SKY FULL OF STARS, coldplay
‘cause you get lighter the more it gets dark

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His M&K mixtape started with a two-minute intro of him rapping about this drunk girl he met in a bookstore. This girl hid herself among bildungsroman, not sure if she wanted to be an antihero like Huckleberry Finn, a tragic hero like Severus Snape, or a Byronic hero like Edward Rochester. “No, girl, in our story you’ll be the heroine.”

She fixed him a quick glance, fingers fiddling with the edge of her hoodie. “No, boy, that’s your hoodie she’s wearing right now,” he told himself.

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The second song was upbeat like the intro. He sounded angry when he told his listener about this cactus that grew on his mother’s deserted backyard. As a young boy he marveled at the oddity, but when he tried to hug it, those gold prickles turned into red. The boy cried, “Where is my mamma?”

She shot him a quick small smile that seemed to say “not here. Sorry.”

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The third song was a mix of his voice and saxophone. Before it began, in the recording he announced, “This one’s titled Poverty.” Paris weekly trips for Coco and Karl. Wreaking havoc from Broadway to South Street. Fast cars, anti-Karl Marx, Rockefeller. The chorus repeated “without you, without you” six times.

Her fingers left the material of his hoodie, then she took his hand in hers. She squeezed it once, and twice, “You’re quite the lyricist,” she said like she understood.

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He went to her en suite to refresh himself while she went downstairs to grab some drinks.

It would not end up prettily, but stupid things had been done, and now he had to fix it and, for this once, wear his heart on his sleeve.

“Well,” he began rather optimistically, “at least I didn’t insert clichés like ‘I love you, Krystal’ or ‘I’d die for you, Soojung’ in my lyrics.”

Yeah, right.

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He hoped she would like the fourth song. It was a slow, jazzy one with an intro like Stevie Wonder’s. There was no his rapping, just piano and occasional trumpet in the right places. It was 97% instrumental. Before the end came, he crooned meaningfully, “A good day for blowing flower petals, setting hearts free. It’s a day after the storm.”

She murmured, “Coconut water is good for blood replenishing” and reached for a bottle and uncapped it. Honestly? She did not look like she liked it as much as he had hoped she would.

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The fifth talked about expensive champagne and gold-coated pistol, about how he loved them so much even though they had the power to destroy him.

His hands twitched and he looked at anywhere but her. He tried to uncap his bottle but “what the hell? Why is it so hard to open?”

She took it from him and uncapped it for him. “I never meant to destroy you, you know that, right?”

“Of course, Soojung,” he said as he noted that no more of their Polaroid pictures were on her wall.

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Tragically, the next song addressed pictures. Pictures on iCloud, family photo album, in the storage of his DSLR, and Polaroid. Pictures captured memories—moods—feelings, “Can’t you see, Seoul princess, that my smile next to yours translates to ich liebe dich? To je t’adore? Johahaeyo?”

He wanted the ground to slice open and finish him off right then and there. He swore he heard her softly snorting and laughing at him. He swore.

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The last song was special because G-Dragon sunbaenim gave him the permission to sample his songs. The song started with G-Dragon sunbaenim singing, “She killed my ego, I know she killed my ego. Let’s go.”

He rapped about a boy sun who befriended a sad, pretty girl earth. The sun was confident that earth would be prettier without the sad, and he shone bright to make her so. For a while everything was good, until the moon came and blocked him.

Now she saw only the moon, even though it deprived her of light and life. Confident no more, the sun gave up this fight against the eclipse and hid himself in the darkness of the night. “She killed my ego, I know she killed my ego. Ego…” G-Dragon sunbaenim ended the song for him.

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“So you know the reason why now, don’t you? I’m not exactly subtle in that song.”

“Uh?” she looked up distractedly. “What? Oh. Yeah… yeah. You thought I was sad. You thought you could help. You couldn’t. So you left me.”

“Sorry, Soojung. I was indeed very stupid.”

“No , Sherlock.”

He let her make fun of him, then let silence overcome them.

In the bed she played with his jumper while on the floor he nibbled on his lip. If things could be awkward between them, now would have been the perfect time. It was quiet, they were busy with their own thoughts. He sighed, and started speaking as she did.

“It’s just that you’re—”

“But if I were to be honest—”

They shared a silly smile or two and he felt the last ounces of nervousness leaving his body. Jung Soojung was a friend, a crush,