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“What are you listening to,” Hanse asks one day, head popping through the door frame.
“Mmh.. what?” Seungwoo looks up from the book he’s reading, taking one of his earbuds out. It’s been a long time since he’s been able to sit down properly and take some time for himself. He’s finally found a couple of hours where he’s free to do whatever he wants, and he’s putting it to good use, unwinding in his room with a good book and even better music.
“The song you’re listening… What is it?”
Seungwoo realizes he’s been humming the song, too engrossed by his reading to notice.
“Oh. It’s called Ain’t no Sunshine, by Bill Withers. Do you know him?”
Hanse shakes his head in a negative. He’s not a connoisseur in that type of music anyway.
“Why do you ask? Do you like it?”
“Just curious,” he shrugs. “I won’t keep you from your book.”
With that, he gives a little salute and gets out of the room. Seungwoo stares after him for a second, bemused by the sudden question and the just as sudden exit, but he pegs it as one of Hanse’s many eccentricities. Without any reason to dwell on it, he gets back to his reading.
“What’s this song?”
Seungsik yelps, turning around with a hand clutching the front of his shirt. He’s been cleaning the kitchen the whole morning – someone has to do it – and, taking advantage of the fact that most of the members were out and about, he’s been listening to his playlist at full volume. He didn’t hear anyone getting home, let alone approaching him from behind.
“Hanse,” he nearly shouts. “For god’s sake, do not sneak on me like that.”
“I wasn’t sneaking, you were just singing too loud to hear me.”
Seungsik fights the embarrassment rising in him, but he can’t help the blush creeping on his cheeks. He has nothing to be embarrassed for. He’s allowed to sing out loud at home, especially if there’s nobody else. And he definitely doesn’t need to feel self-conscious about his singing. He’s the main vocalist for a reason, thank you very much. But he’s somehow bashful for having been caught off guards.
“What’s the song, hyung,” Hanse repeats.
“Oh hum,” he stammers. “Reminisce about all. It’s by that band, Onewe.”
The other nods, satisfied. He stands there and stares at him with a look Seungsik can’t decipher.
“Why do you ask,” he inquires, suspicious.
“No reason,” Hanse answers. “It suits you. Your voice goes well with the song.”
“Thank you,” he says but it sounds more like a question. It’s not that Hanse never compliments him – they’re all pretty vocal about their appreciation for each other – but it kind of came from nowhere.
He doesn’t have much time to ponder what is up with him before Hanse starts moving in the direction of his bedroom.
“I’ll leave you to your cleaning, then.”
And just like that, he’s out of sight, and Seungsik questions if he even was there or if he just made up the whole conversation in his mind. Hanse is weird sometimes, though. There’s probably nothing more to it.
Sejun draws the shower curtain open and nearly screams his lungs out when he finds Hanse standing in front of him.
“Fu-,” he shuts his yelling before he wakes up the whole apartment block, but he feels his heart racing and he has to put a hand on the wall to stop himself from slipping.
“What the hell are you doing here,” he asks when he feels somewhat calmer. The blood in his ears still makes a beating woosh woosh kind of sound, but at least he doesn’t feel like his legs will give out.
“What’s the name of this song?”
Sejun gawks at him for a few seconds, making sure he’s hearing well.
“What?”
“What’s the name of this song,” Hanse says again, enunciating each word clearly, as if he was talking to a 5 years old kid.
“I got it the first time,” he grites between his teeth, annoyed. “Couldn’t you wait until I was done?”
He realizes he’s been standing naked in front of his friend for at least a minute, and he grabs a nearby towel to cover himself. He’s not really bothered, they’ve definitely all seen each other without clothes on countless times over the years (it’s bound to happen, when you live together with six other guys and only two bathrooms), but he’s already feeling vulnerable enough by the scare Hanse gave him, he doesn’t need to add more to it.
“Because you probably would forget the song, and I want to know what it is,” he explains, unperturbed.
Sejun wants to strangle him right there, but he can’t deny the words hold some kind of truth. He’s not good at remembering titles. He also realizes he’s been singing, loudly, during his shower, and everyone could probably hear him. This isn’t new for him, for none of them actually. They’re in a house of singers, after all. But he usually sings korean songs, because he’s more comfortable with the lyrics. This time, though, the song that was playing before he was rudely interrupted is a western one. And, well, maybe, just maybe, he hasn’t particularly put an effort in his pronunciation. He isn’t so self-assured about his English, not when he hasn’t practiced the lyrics before. He knows Hanse won’t make fun of him, but it’s still kind of embarrassing.
“Well? What’s the name,” Hanse insists, relentless.
Deciding picking a fight is not worth it, Sejun dries a hand on the towel – now secured around his waist – and picks up his phone from where he left it next to the sink.
“It’s called Listen, by Beyoncé. Happy now?”
“Yes, very happy,” he replies with a grin. “Thank you.”
Without another word, he turns around and leaves the bathroom, making sure to close the door behind him. Sejun is left bewildered, still dripping wet and not sure of what just happened. He has plans for later, though, and doesn’t have time to waste on strange teammates at the moment. Hanse is just like that.
It keeps happening.
Hanse suddenly pops out of nowhere and starts asking questions about the song someone is listening to, or the artist (“Byungchanie, who’s this?” “Passenger. You know, the guy who sings Let Her Go? This one is called Setting Suns.” “Oh, ok. Thanks Byung.”). He never says why, although they all guess it’s because he actually likes the music. Nobody really gets a chance to ask him.
It doesn’t happen every day. Sometimes he goes weeks without inquiring about a new song, so none of them find it weird. When he does, he’s just Hanse. Living jukebox, at times strange, their rapper Hanse. But it still happens regularly enough that they notice. He goes to all of them multiple times and every time it leaves them in a state of bemused confusion.
Subin is the one who ends up confronting him about it, one night when a few of them are gathered in what passes for the living room. He’s playing a game with Sejun, eyes trained on the screen, when he hears Hanse make one of his usual questions.
“What song are you listening to, hyung?”
Subin risks his game to look at his friend, who was apparently crossing the room and stopped to pry about the music. This time he’s directing his attention to Chan, who’s lying on the couch with his head cushioned on Sejun’s legs (they all agree they’re the comfiest) and typing away on his phone.
Subin hadn’t even realized there was music playing, too engrossed in his game to register anything outside the little kart he’s trying hard not to make fall off a cliff. His distraction apparently causes his demise, because he vaguely hears the chirping melody signaling he’s lost and Sejun’s triumphant exclamation, but he’s too curious about Hanse’s shenanigans to care.
“How Far We’ve Come, by Matchbox Twenty,” Chan says, nonplussed. They’re all used to Hanse’s strange inquiries by now.
Hanse dips his head in acknowledgement and gets moving to where he was going before, but before he can escape, Subin finally bites.
“Why do you always ask about the music we’re listening to, hyung?”
His question stirs the curiosity of the other two and they turn to Hanse, hoping for an answer.
“No reason. I’m just curious, I like to keep up with new music.”
He doesn’t wait to see if his explanation is satisfactory enough for them – it isn’t, not for Subin, because he knows Hanse like the back of his hand and he’s sure there’s more to it – and he makes his way out before any of them stops him again.
Sejun, Chan and Subin exchange a few confused looks. There’s no reason for Hanse to be so evasive, but it doesn’t really seem worth the hassle to chase after him and wrestle more information out of him. They have a game to go back to, anyway.
They finally find an explanation one ordinary day, like any other, when they’re in the practice room. They’re all there for once, which is rare when they’re not preparing for a new comeback. They’ve been thinking about covering a song as a group, as a gift for their fans to make the hiatus less boring for them. They have all been communicating with Alices in their own ways, but they know making something together, all seven of them, would be a great surprise.
They’ve been using Seungsik’s computer to play the song, but after a few hours it runs out of battery. Hanse gives him his own tablet instead and Seungsik is busy plugging it to the speakers and searching the song in the music app when he sees one of Hanse’s playlists.
Family, it says. It wouldn’t have caught his attention if it wasn’t for the blue and yellow hearts next to it. Curious, he opens it and scrolls through it, figuring it has something to do with them. It takes him a moment to realize he recognizes a few familiar songs there. Some of these are ones he enjoys often, and he’s pretty sure Hanse has asked him about a few of them. He also sees some songs he’s heard the other members listening to.
“Hey,” he calls him out. “Are those the songs you’re always asking us about?”
Hanse looks up from where he’s resting, sitting on the floor while he chugs an entire bottle of water. He looks puzzled for a second before recognition dawns on him and he scrambles top stand up. He makes his way towards Seungsik, who by now has been joined by a nosy Byungchan, and sees that he’s snooping through his playlist.
It’s not that he absolutely wanted to keep it a secret, there’s nothing bad about it, but he’s been building it for months now, and it feels strange to show it to them. He started it on a whim and without giving much thought to it, but he’s come to cherish he’s playlist and, unconsciously, he hadn’t really planned to share it.
“What’s this,” Byungchan asks. “Oh, this is the song I told you! This one too.”
By now the other guys have caught up on what’s going on and they’re looking at him expectantly, while Seungsik, Byungchan and Subin – who made his way to them to check for himself – scroll down the dozens of songs he’s accumulated through the months.
“Well, yeah,” he sputters. “Yeah, yeah, they’re the songs I asked you about.”
He’s strangely shy, being put on the spot about his playlist. It’s not that big of a deal, it isn’t. But it’s his little project, that he’s been carefully curating for weeks and months.
Subin speaks up, “Do you like them that much? And what’s with the name of the playlist?”
“What’s the name,” Chan asks.
“Family, with two hearts in our official colors,” Byungchan explains. “It’s cute.”
Hanse debates shrugging it off as if it’s nothing, sure they would let it go if he asked, but it’s not like he’s ashamed of the reason behind the playlist. He knows they won’t find it weird but… but it’s his.
“Yeah, I just,” he starts, then pauses for a second, playing with his lip piercing. “I made it because it reminds me of you. When we’re all busy and can’t spend time together. I don’t know, these are the songs you like and it kinda makes me feel like I’m with you guys. You know, when I’m not feeling that good.”
Understanding dawns on all of them at once. They all know Hanse goes through hard times, sometimes. Hell, they all do. They usually try to stick together and lift each other up, but it’s not always possible. Sometimes they’re away, or too busy with life to take the time to talk and be there for each other like they’d like to. They’re always only a phone call away, but it’s not the same. Nothing makes up for the physical presence of a friend who understands what you’re going through, who doesn’t judge and just provides comfort without needing explanations. A playlist is no substitute for the company of his members, but Hanse has found solace in the songs he associates with his favorite people.
“That’s nice, Hanse,” Seungsik says in a soft voice. It’s thick with meaning and words left unspoken – they’ve all keenly felt the absence of the others at least once. They know how it is, sometimes. “It’s a nice playlist.”
His tone implies that he knows that it’s much more than just a nice playlist, but he doesn’t pry further. They all understand what it means to him, and that’s all that matters. He doesn’t feel like dwelling on the reason why he needs it,and why it helps him so much to listen to it, because he’s feeling good now, surrounded by the people he loves, doing the things he loves.
“Yeah, it is.” He smiles, claps his hands together, and that’s it. Time to move on. “Now I believe we have a song to practice, don’t we?”
Nobody protests the sudden change in the mood. If any of them feels like talking, they talk. Otherwise, they keep going. It works for them.
Hanse still feels a bit sheepish about his playlist being exposed to them like that when he hadn't intended to, but then they get into position and he locks eyes with Seungwoo through the mirror. His friend gives him a wink, the one that somehow conveys many messages – amongst them, that he’s got his back no matter what.
Yeah, he thinks, nothing beats actually being with his members. But he sure as hell won’t stop asking for more songs.