Chapter Text
Music. A combination of rhythm, melody, harmony, and dynamics. That one thing practically started Mark’s life and saved it.
He learned to play the piano as a child and picked up the guitar in high school. Living alone without his parents, it was the only thing that kept him company.
Recital after recital, certificate after certificate, trophy after trophy, Mark had forgotten his passion for it all.
Don’t get it wrong—of course, he loved to play the piano. It was one of the only ways he could express to the world, but being forced to play in front of a huge crowd? He couldn’t take it anymore.
For all 18 years of his life, he was alone. At home, at school, and even in the concert halls.
There was one thing that kept him company, of course, his music.
…but it began to fade eventually, just like how every song would.
After their band practice had ended, Mark returned to his room, flopping onto the bed, letting out a tired groan.
He looked into his phone, mindlessly scrolling social media until he had gotten a message.
It was from Diana.
“mark, are you there?”
He stared at his notification, silently recalling the past.
…
He remembered when Diana found him unconscious on his bedroom floor.
He remembered the blinding lights of that hospital room—he remembers how ‘clean’ the air felt that day.
He remembered the pristine, untouched, white walls of his room, how uncomfy his bed felt, how the random beeps from his monitor turned into a haunting melody.
He remembered when Diana, alongside his grandparents, went to bring his cat over to his room.
He remembered the concerned looks on his parents’ faces, which he caught a glimpse of via a video call.
He remembered the first time he listened to music again after waking up.
Suddenly, it all came back to him. His passion, his genuine love and appreciation for it, how it made him smile again, how the edgy, loud, and rough instrumentals made him move again, and how each melody and rhythm worked together hand in hand to provide a beautiful experience.
He shook off those painful memories before recalling to himself what had happened this week.
Band practice followed by finally choosing a band name, Eva getting injured, and him watching Damon walk Eva home with anticipation, and finally, him working on an original song yet again.
He walked over to his desk, opened his laptop, and logged into his messaging app to respond.
“yeah”
“whats up?”
While waiting for a reply, he opened his music software, gazing at the audio visualizer as he looked down at his fingers, which were rough and thickened with calluses.
A notification popped up from the corner of his screen.
“have you eaten dinner yet?”
He paused, staring yet again at his indented fingers, trying desperately to recall when he had last eaten something.
“no”
He replied, moving his mouse as he pressed ‘play’ on the current song he was working on.
“okii”
“Ill be coming over there in a few minutes”
He paused the song and left his laptop ajar before grabbing his black jacket and walking out of his bedroom door. He took the nearest piece of paper he could find and began writing a note to leave for his little sister, and grabbed his keys.
He waited outside his front yard, grabbed his MP3 player from his pocket alongside his earphones, and shuffled through his downloaded songs before choosing one.
As if on cue, he saw Diana’s pink hair looming closer from the corner of his eyes.
The streetlights surrounding their neighborhood dimmed softly on her, sculpting a soft yet harsh shadow on her face. The highlights formed by her soft, shiny hair seemed to form a halo on her head.
She smiled softly and waved at him behind the house’s gate. He rushed to open the gate and exit the house, slowly making their way to the local 7/11.
As their steps synchronized, so did their silent, soft breathing as they calmly took in their surroundings, with Diana looking at the streetlights with awe.
They continued to remain this way until she decided to break the silence.
“Mark,” she said, with her voice taking on a more serious tone. “Have you been taking care of yourself?”
He paused.
“...”
Diana’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “Mark…”
Okay, he’ll admit it. He hasn’t been taking care of himself these past few days. He’s been skipping meals, staying up late until 4 am, and neglecting all of his basic needs just to work on another song.
It’s conflicting.
Music has always been his passion, from childhood to the present. It was his reason to keep going. After a certain incident, it’s become his main inspiration to continue living.
And yet, this passion of his prevents him from doing so. From neglecting his needs due to a lack of passion to neglecting his needs due to an abundance of it.
He composed countless songs while he was still in that hospital. He composed hundreds of little melodies to hum to himself after getting out.
From feeling so little emotion—from being stripped of it, to suddenly being surrounded by so many ideas, so many smiling faces, so much love, he didn’t know how to respond to this sudden recovery.
The glass door’s chimes painfully pierced Mark’s ears back to reality. Diana stayed by his side, pointing at the store’s refrigerator.
“Let’s eat together,” she whispered, with her voice sounding almost like a sweet melody, contrasting the loud music that was still playing in Mark’s ears.
Mark mumbled a small, tiny “Sure..” before they both made their way to the wide selection of frozen food.
Diana placed her hand on her chin, indecisive of which one she should take. Salmon Onigiri or another reheatable sandwich?
As she kept looking at each option, carefully scanning the price tags, choosing which one had the farthest expiry date, Mark was just silently gazing softly into her eyes.
Ever since he met her in high school, it had felt like his entire world had changed. Sure, he remained the same, but it seemed like to him (and to others) that the world seemed to regain its color.
From Diana's soft smile to her passion for others, she's what many consider as a real life “angel”. There are many stories told by friends of how she's saved their lives—in one way or another.
But none of it will ever compare to how she saved his. How, even if they were opposites, she did everything in her power to hear him, to listen, to understand him, just like Music.
Music, huh..
Suddenly, Mark was snapped back to reality.
“Hey, look, they’re playing your favorite song,” Diana whispered softly, tugging one of the sleeves of his jacket.
“...They play Zild here?” he looked up at the speakers, confused.
“The cashier must’ve seen you and decided to play it,” she joked, silently taking one salmon onigiri off the refrigerator's shelves.
“Hey,” He chuckled, nudging her elbow. “Not funny…”
She laughed, her voice sounding like a sweet melody.
“What are you getting?---And don't say cigarettes.”
He let out a small laugh before turning to look at the fried chicken being displayed on the counter.
“...I think I’ll get a rice meal.”
The two of them walked over to one of the tables facing the window, setting down their respective meal choices, before Diana quickly got up.
“Oh, I forgot to get us drinks!” she stammered, speed walking to the store’s refrigerator. “I’ll be riigghhttt back.”
“Diana, you don’t have to—” he responded, yet she was already out of his sight.
Again.
“Diana, huh?” a mysterious, ominous voice from behind called out. “Looks like our former keyboardist is smitten.”
Mark suddenly turned around to the voice, only to be met by his former bandmates, towering over him.
He was stuck frozen in place, shoulders tense, and his expression unmoving.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his throat itching from, well… it wasn’t embarrassment, it wasn’t nostalgia, it was anger.
“Well, nothing much—we just wanted to check out the shiny new lead guitarist for… what was it again?” one of them asked.
“...Edenic Sin,” Mark muttered under his breath.
“Riiight. Edenic Shin,” his former band member laughed mockingly. “Who knew you had the guts to come join the Battle of the Bands with a new group?”
“All of them are brand new faces, too. I don’t recognize a single one,” he added.
Mark glared at them, resisting the urge to throw his hoodie over his eyes, resisting the urge to run away.
His band members glared back; the anger, disappointment, and jealousy were reflected in their eyes
“Well, see you in 2 weeks,” one of them said, patting him on the back.