[09] A FACE TO CALL HOME, john mayer
little by little, inch by inch […] it ain’t much but it’s a start

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She felt uncomfortably guilty for the next few days after his last visit.

His last visit. You know—that one which involved her and Bill Murray’s joined attempt at making him laugh and relax—which ended horribly with his realization that—gasp! She had been doing all this caring and looking after only for him! Oh! The horror! It was enough to make her go red with embarrassment, throw her wall back up again, hurting him with her favorite weapon: words. “I don’t actually care; I’m just doing this because you’ve done the same for me and—um—and I—I don’t want to owe you anything!”

He had not said anything after that, only staying close to her so quiet, perhaps afraid she would say something even meaner had he talked back and questioned her.

Oh how she wished he had.

Maybe she could have bitten her lower lip and been more attuned with her overflowing, overwhelming emotion, “I didn’t really mean that. Of course I care for you—you’re my best friend.”

Guilt munched her insides. No, what a lie. She would not have admitted to any caring and even if he had talked back and questioned her with a gun pointed at the general direction of her forehead.

She called out to her friend when it was only the two of them left in the dance room. “Sunyoung… I think I’ve been bad…”

Lying on the floor several feet away, her friend wiped her sweat and scoffed, “Ha. When are you not?”

Guilt munched her insides again because damn right that Sunyoung, Where’s the lie now? she thought gravely. All those nice things that she had tried to do for him, everything went to waste because she was a ball of awkward mess.

Sunyoung took pity on the sad face that the younger girl was unconsciously making. She sighed. “When we do someone wrong, the most natural thing to do is apologize.”

“I didn’t do anything, alright?!” Soojung snapped but sheepishly continued, “I just said something not very pleasant is all…”

Sunyoung rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, to Winner Mino?” Soojung did not answer. Sunyoung knew she was correct.

Without anyone knowing, she had been replying to Lee Seunghoon’s texts. Her first message to him was a direct, irritated ‘how the hell did you obtain my number?’ while her last one was sent not more than an hour ago, ‘This practice is killing me I can’t feel my freaking legs.’

Their exchange was a playful banter that bordered on being dangerously insulting, but when they were not calling each other “you cute YG coward” and “my SM nasty ,” sometimes they talked about the doomed Krystal and Mino.

“Do you know how they met? I’m so curious but Minho just won’t answer. I mean, why would Krystal want to be friends with some rookie idol? A charismatic rookie rapper that is from YG, true—but—it’s not like Minho is—you know—on, say, Simon D level. Or Swings. Or Beenzino.”

Sunyoung, who knew Soojung’s intention quite perfectly, pushed the sudden unease she felt far away and gave Seunghoon a fake scowl. “Ugh, if that’s all what you want to talk about, I’ll hang up, okay? I’d rather sleep than play this guessing game.”

“But Sunyoung-ah, this is not a guessing game. Krystal’s your BFF; you must have known something. See, Minho’s my BFF. And I’m telling you he’s super serious about Krystal. Super sincere. She’s not, perhaps, playing him or anything, right?”

“Are you calling me just to talk about Soojung and your friend Mino? Or are you calling me to talk with me—about me—about you—about us, hmm, Oppa?”

The words Us and Oppa had been enough to divert Seunghoon’s attention then, but now, back to the dance room and tired bones, Sunyoung’s moral compass finally pointed to a conclusion: Soojung needed the cold hard truth slapped across her face.

“Do you remember that once,” Sunyoung recollected, “Song Mino stopped answering your calls because he had issues with his self-esteem and stuff? You were so mad you dragged me to his dorm. Without thinking—without a concrete plan. You were so reckless. It wasn’t like you.”

Soojung snorted, “Little Minho thought he was not adequate for me. I repeat, not adequate.”

Sunyoung nodded. “So I guess we can agree that Song Minho doesn’t make much sense…,” she paused. “But I still kind of think that you shouldn’t treat him like , you know?”

Soojung narrowed her eyes. “Um, I treat him well, though. He’s my friend, Sunyoung. I always try to ensure that he’s happy…not too tired…well-fed…and, of course, warm!”

Sunyoung winced hearing her friend’s answer. “Song Mino is an adult not your puppy, Soojung. If you think he’s a friend, then treat him like one.”

“I’ve just told you I treat him well!”

“Jesus, Soojung—listen to me,” Sunyoung said, finally done with the younger girl’s insensitive line of reasoning, “because I’m your friend, we both know that you won’t ever use me. Now, if you tell me that Song Mino is your friend—which you just did—that should mean you won’t use him, right? Right?”

Soojung knitted her eyebrows and when she spoke her voice was an octave lower—an octave more dangerous, “What the crap are you trying to say, Sunyoung? Seriously?”

Sunyoung did not answer right away. She breathed in and out and felt tiredness in her every muscle and joint. At last, she her lips and said, “Stop using that poor, inadequate, little Mino, Soojung… You very well know the pain that comes with being someone’s second choice—been there, done that—the rebound girl, a convenient replacement… Will you hurt him the same way you were hurt? At the end? It was cruel, wasn’t it? Will it be like that, too, for him? Will he have his heart broken beyond recognition? Jagged edges and sharp cuts… Will his friends be worried sick about him like I and your other friends had been about you for months before the Inadequate Little Mino came and gave you fun? Gave you—I don’t know—happiness? Or I dare say, Soojung, love?” Sunyoung just could not stop talking once her verbal faucet was turned