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Contrary to popular belief, change is not the only thing constant in this world. The other one is Park Serim’s secretary’s incessant knocking on his door at, mind you, 8 in the morning. But then again, he should’ve expected it.
After the shit that went down the night before, he’d be in more shock if he didn’t wake up this way. Still, that didn’t stop him from getting a good night’s sleep.
He gets up from where he was laying down, pulling the thick mattress off his body. He really should be opening the door for his secretary, but Seongmin’s knocking is kinda catchy, and he really doesn’t want to face the world today.
After a few more seconds of consistent knocking, the producer opens the door for his secretary, who was definitely not in a good mood.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Seongmin curses, just as he is let inside the bedroom.
“Damn, slow down on the cursing, it’s like, the crack of dawn.” the older male chuckles, walking towards his window blinds in an attempt to lighten the conversation.
“What were you trying to prove with the song, Serim hyung?”
He looks directly at him, trying to reason with his boss and possibly read what could be going on that head of his, but Serim can’t. He looks away, staring at the bed he just got off of.
“Hyung..” Seongmin is whispering, he knows he touched a nerve.
He’d be the first to admit that it was an unexpected move, especially since he’s been on break for seven months. For him to just release a song out of nowhere was definitely peculiar. But he definitely got the public’s attention, so what did he lose, really?
He put out a great song, got a few hundred thousand won from it and cleared any rumors about Woobin. He takes a deep breath before answering Seongmin’s question, “I was trying to prove..”
“I was trying to prove I’ve moved on from him already.”
Except he hasn’t. Everyone knows that.
Seo Woobin was the light of Serim’s life. He had been referred to the singer by a colleague and from the moment he went inside the booth, Serim knew he had fallen in love. Something in his voice, so warm and genuine, could tell a story of a thousand words within a few lyrics. Something with their small banter from over the speaker sent butterflies to his stomach, and the next thing he knew, Woobin was getting out of the booth and he was handing him his number.
Woobin would smirk, “I already have your number.” which would result in Serim slipping over his words, trying to save the conversation. The singer would keep his smirk, giving Serim back the piece of paper he scribbled his number in, and instead, give him something he never expected that day, a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek, and a promise to keep in touch.
Serim called later that night.
And from then, the pair went out to dates after recordings and sometimes, even outside recordings. They wouldn’t even try to hide their displays of affection, which led to buzz from netizens, both positive and negative. Of course, he expects the stans to oversaturate the interaction, he expects the stans to cry why their oppa is being touchy-feely with another man, and he expects the news to eat it up.
And just like he expected, it happened.
They came out to the public as a couple a couple of months later, adored by twitter stans, but ridiculed by the Korean teens. It was fine though, losing a couple of teenage fans who rely on their parents’ money isn’t a loss compared to the bliss of dating his very own Euterpe, his muse in music, the love of his life, in public. With everyone to see, and everyone to know that Woobin is his, only.
But that was before everything went to shit.
Serim snaps from his reminiscing, as Seongmin sighs in exasperation. He arranges a few papers before leaving them at his table. The younger turned on his heel, putting his binder on a table, which Serim did not notice before, and headed for the bed.
“Press wants to see you, get a word from you about the song. Do you want to do something about it?” The secretary continues on while pulling on the messy bed sheets. Serim ponders about it for a while, thinking if he should talk more about the song or just never look back, because if he does, he might open a few doors that are better left closed.
But he ultimately decides on proceeding with meeting with the press, besides, they were the reason their relationship was put in that situation, it was only right that closure is given where closure is due.
After a few months of dating, speculation and gossip has died down and the general public has long accepted them as a gay couple in the media. Of course, the scandal, if it could even be called a scandal, took a toll on Woobin’s music career, with sales going down during his next comeback.
They weren’t too bothered though, they just continued making good music and making sure the K-Pop industry’s music had not gone to the dumpster fire. They released hit after hit, and soon enough, they were more popular than they had been. After all, a controversy can’t hinder them from making good songs that people relate to, let alone a controversy that isn’t too controversial either. The public will consume media that they like, and lucky for them, they fit the people’s taste just perfectly.
Everything was going well with them. Stacks of cash, booking jobs left and right, grinding out songs with no tomorrow and getting the recognition they deserve. And on top of that, they had each other by their side, always cheering each other on like their very own fanbase.
They were on top of the world, until they weren’t.
The television static rang loud in his ears as he watched the scene unfold on the television screen. It’s typical, really. A girl wearing black clothes and a cap, hiding her identity from the cameras lurking around, holding hands with a man with similar comfortable clothes, entering a hotel. He wouldn’t care about these scandals really, it was childish and borderline illegal to be following these people around in the hopes of exposing them. He’s not the type to wait on January 1st for Dispatch’s reveal, after all.
Except this time, he can’t help but be involved; because one of the two people Dispatch caught was his boyfriend.
“This is ridiculous.” he laughs as the television flashes more photos to prove the affair.
You see, the universe liked playing games with Serim, so not even three minutes after he’s seen all the photos and read the whole article, his phone rang loudly, an all-too familiar number on the caller ID.
He doesn’t want to answer. He really does. Why should he? He doesn’t owe him anything. He doesn’t want to care if he wants to explain himself. He and the whole world knows of his bullshit, he won’t save his ass now.
He deserves to get hate. He deserves to be eaten up by netizens. He deserves to be boycotted by his fans.
The ringtone still blares loudly, and he’s pretty sure the moment it stops, another will come. He wants to say he wants space. He wants to chuck his phone out the window and forget he was ever in his life, but Serim is too nice of a person. At least, that’s what he says his reason is.
He slides his finger across his phone, taking the call. The producer hears an audible gasp as soon as he presses the phone to his ear, the voice that he once fell in love with.
“Selm? Are you there?”
His heart cracks, how could he still be in love with him? How is it, that after everything he’d done, he still crumbles at the presence of the voice that once sung him lullabies to bed? How is it that this person who betrayed him the most still be the one he still holds dear to his heart?
Why does he still love him?
And why can he see himself forgiving him?
“What do you want, Woobin?”
Woobin, he made sure to use his name. Not Ruby. All terms of affection dropped. Cold, distant, aloof.
Thankfully, the tone came across, as the next words Woobin spoke were in stutters. “I-I’m sorry, Selm. I-”
“Don’t even call me Selm. What makes you think you still have the right to call me that?” He feels the venom in his words, thrown towards Woobin without care, as if he never once loved him.
“And don’t you dare even say sorry. You knew what you were doing. You willingly took that girl to that hotel and thought you would get away with it. You’re not sorry about anything.”
He puts the phone down, ending the call at that. Truthfully, he could still hear Woobin’s attempts to stop him from the other line, but both of them knew that was to no avail. He ends the phone call just like that, the same way Woobin ended their relationship.
A sudden urge to throw his phone to the wall gets to him, and while usual level-headed Serim would digress, this one has had a couple glasses of wine, so he does what his mind tells him to do.
He barrels his phone towards the wall, the screen shattering on impact. Whatever data he had on there was irrelevant now, since all that it held was memories of someone he’d rather forget. Lyrics and demos and tracks that he never saved in his cloud, gone forever. Throwing things made him feel better, makes him feel the pain he has harbored. It was liberating. So he reaches for the nearest thing he can find, a picture frame.
It was a picture of them the night they announced their relationship. Just them two together, smiles brighter than the stars above, without a care in the world. Three seconds later, the picture frame is on the ground, shattered, along with more pictures and glass.
Only when he had completely soiled his room did he sit on his bed, the same bed they slept on because Woobin claims his apartment is too small and they wouldn’t fit in his bed. Serim touches the mattress before sitting down. It all felt too familiar, yet so stranger to touch.
Only when he climbs on his bed and tucks himself under the covers does he feel the lack of warmth from the other side. Only when he tries to put on music does he miss the gentle voice that sung him to bed whenever he woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare. Only when he’s alone does he realize how much he depended on him, and how lonely he was. Only then did he feel the pain of being replaced, of being left for someone else, of being betrayed by the person you trusted the most.
Serim cried himself to sleep that night for the very first time in months.
“I’ll tell the media.”
Seongmin looks shocked at the response, rightfully so, since he barely appeared outside after the break-up, choosing to shut down any questions media outlets asked him. “Am I allowed to ask why?”
“They deserve it, I guess.”
His secretary just nods understandingly, although he doubts he sees the rationality behind his decisions. Pursing his lips to a thin line, he instructs his boss about the details, “Well, Minhee hyung said that if you so decide to go through with the press, we can use a hotel or something. And there I was, mocking him for even thinking you’d want to meet up with the press.”
Seongmin rolls his eyes, probably directed at himself and his overestimation. “Well, get ready. The thing starts in a few hours. Look good.”
“I do look good!” Serim shouts to his secretary who was already halfway through the door. He manages to offer him a smile and a chuckle, “Sure, Serim.”
He watches as the younger boy exits, shutting the door as he brisk-walked his way to the lobby. And just like that, he’s left alone again.
The producer looks around the room he’s in, from pristine white walls covering the room, to the plush carpet under the soles of his feet. There was barely any trash littered on the floor, and there’s even a new vacuum sitting at the corner of the room! (He’s actually quite proud of that purchase, he’s eyeing a Roomba nowadays too.)
Anyway, the point is, it’s been a long time since that fateful night in October. The destroyed bedroom that it once was was now devoid of any shattered glass and broken pieces of his heart. He’s healing. He’s trying to heal. He started to pick up the shards of the person he once was without cutting himself in the process; a difficult feat, but he’s trying.
At least, he’s much better than he was before. He’s definitely better now compared to the person he was in December.
The rain was barrelling down on the bus stop’s roof, the transparent glass trying its hardest to block any stubborn water droplets from entering under the shade, and yet Park Serim stood in the middle of it, letting his clothes soak everything.
It’s been two months, why can’t he move on?
Like a scene copied straight from a cliche afternoon melodrama, Serim lets his tears be camouflaged with the raindrops hitting his face. He chuckles, he swears he’s seen this movie with Woobin before.
There’s that name again. The one name he grew accustomed to love, now leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Why?
Why can’t he say his name in spite, in anger? Why can’t he curse him to eternal damnation, to a life of hardships and karma, why can’t he hate him? Why is it that every time he thinks of him, he still worries if he’s had his dinner yet? Why does he still wonder if he’s sleeping properly? Why can’t he stop loving him?
Seo Woobin must have cast black magic on him, because there’s no way he’s this hung up on him. He’s down bad, and he doesn’t like everything about it. He shouldn’t be like this! He betrayed him! He cheated!
Serim has done nothing but love, and yet he finds himself shifting the blame on himself, no matter how many times his friends tell him otherwise. Surely, he did something wrong for Woobin to turn his back on him, right? Right?
He’s hopeless.
The rain has no plans on stopping soon, so it’s only him, the cold pavement and his hot tears that’s keeping him company.
He looks pathetic.
Who used to be renowned, A-List Producer, sought out for by artists both local and international, now sat in the middle of the rain, nowhere to go and nothing to keep him warm.
He really might be insane, because he feels judgy stares from the back of his head, and there’s nothing behind him except the darn bus stop.
At least, that’s what he thought.
He looked back, gut feeling he says, but he knows it’s so much more than that; especially when he’s met face-to-face with the very man he’s crying over in the rain.
Ha. Classic melodrama.
Now if only he could curse him out like those leads in dramas do, shout in the middle of the sidewalk and cry every single thing out in anger. If only Serim could look him in the eye and tell him every single thing he did wrong, show him everything he lost when he left him. But this is where reality deviates from the dramas, because now that he’s in front of Woobin again, his throat has gone dry, and only a choked sob could be heard amidst the pouring rain.
Serim wishes, so dearly hopes that Woobin would walk away, forget that he ever saw him this vulnerable, but he knows he won’t. So it doesn’t surprise him when he materializes beside him, an umbrella held overhead.
“Are you okay?” he asked, concern written across his face. He really hasn’t changed, has he?
“Why?”
His eyebrow raises at the question, “What do you-”
“Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just leave me alone? Why is it so hard to move on from you? Why are you making things harder than it already is?”
Serim is hitting light punches to his chest, repeating ‘Why’s over and over senselessly. It didn’t matter if he made no sense, at this point nothing did, so why would he try to make himself clear when he can’t even figure things out himself?
Woobin lets him be, taking every indecipherable statement, as if he deserved it. (He did.) The only time he moved was when Serim had finally stopped and resorted to curling in himself, face buried in his knees as tears stained his cheeks even further.
He lowered himself to Serim’s height, assuming some sort of squat position in hopes of seeing his ex-lover eye-to-eye. “Hyung..”
“What did I ever do wrong?”
If you listen closely, somewhere between the sound of water hitting the pavement, you can hear not one, but two hearts breaking after Serim uttered those words.
There’s silence, despite the loud crying of the rain, there is deafening silence between the two ex-lovers.
“You didn’t do anything wrong–”
“I find that quite hard to believe, Woobin.”
He sighs deeply, admitting defeat. “Can you come inside, hyung? I can’t let you sit here in the rain.”
Woobin is pushing himself off the ground as he says this, and Serim does nothing but look up at him in patheticness, or whatever word describes Serim looking like a kicked puppy.
He shouldn’t do it. What for? He’s absolutely fine, he’d argue. But he knows, they both know, that underneath the cloudy skies and wet pavement, this was the only time he’d get the closure he deserved.
So when Woobin offers his hand to the older, Serim takes it.
Woobin, Serim figures out much later, was supposed to be going on a grocery trip to restock on cereal and shampoo. Unfortunately for his pantry, the only thing he brings home is a broken 23-year-old producer who’s in desperate need of a hot chocolate.
Probably a warm shower too, but Serim didn’t want to bother the male any more than he already was, so he digressed. (Woobin wouldn’t have minded, but he was insistent on just showering at home.)
And now there they both were, sat on opposite ends of Woobin’s sofa, nursing cups of hot drinks in their hands and avoiding any eye contact.
Would it be an overstatement to say it was embarrassing? Probably not, but it was definitely awkward. They’d never seen each other for two months since the incident, and neither one of them wanted to start the conversation. Huh, maybe that’s a reason why they didn’t work out.
Because it’s true, and he doesn’t have the heart nor the conscience to lie and say that his relationship with Woobin was perfect. They always said that communication was vital and important, and yet that’s the one thing they always seemed to forget.
But then again, what did you expect from two fools in love and afraid of confrontation?
The younger brunette clears his throat, halting Serim’s train of thought. “Hyung, I-”
He stops when he looks up at him, eyes catching the younger’s own. “I meant-”
A sigh, “Just, I’m ready to listen when you’re ready hyung.”
Ah Woobin, always so courteous, always waiting for him to initiate conversations. Ah Woobin, “Why do you always do this?”
The young singer raises him a curious look, confused at what exactly Serim had meant.
“Why do you always listen? When am I going to have a piece of your mind?”
Serim tugs the thick blanket around his shoulders to give him more warmth, bracing himself for the response he’s gonna get. If he gets a cold shoulder, at least he'll be ready.
“Do you want me to be honest with you?” Serim nods,
“You made me feel like I couldn’t.”
Oh.
Now it made sense. Well, it doesn’t, but it ultimately does. It explains a lot of his actions, at least.
“Is that why-” Serim tries to look him in the eyes, attempting to look for the answer engraved in his irises. Woobin can't hide the shame as he avoids eye contact. “Oh.”
There’s.. well, you see, the thing is that Serim liked to keep things under control. As a producer, that’s one of the things he did, made sure that a song goes smoothly, provided better guidance for the improvement of a project, etcetera. He wanted everything to be clean, sharp, no rough edges nor soft indents. He liked things in order.
That’s probably where Woobin came in. Since Serim loved keeping things in his grasp, he tries his best to keep things together, because if one thing fucks up, it might damage his perfect vision. Had.. had he been controlling Woobin?
“I felt tied, if that made sense. Like I couldn’t do anything I wanted to do. I thought being able to date publicly would make it easier for us, but I still felt bound. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He admits, sigh escaping his lips once more. “I just,” his hands start wandering around the air, words too difficult to articulate. “I wish you’d told me.”
“That’s a recurring problem, huh?” The idol chuckled to himself, bitterness tasting his tongue too.
They’re met with silence, which was honestly needed. For Serim, so he could process this new-found information and reflect on the relationship he thought he knew so well, and for Woobin, who was debating if he’ll bare his heart out to the ex he once loved.
Woobin breaks Serim’s reverie with a statement, a sentence that Serim has heard so many times before, but never as meaningful as now.
“Hyung,” he pauses to look to his side, hoping to lock eyes with Serim, “I hope you don’t blame yourself over this. I really do.”
He chuckles for a little bit before continuing, “I know it’s such a cliche thing to say, but it really wasn’t you. It’s me.”
Serim mirrors the light chuckling, although the tears pooling up in his lower eyelid would indicate otherwise. It’s funny, isn’t it? For the publicized couple to have such an afternoon melodrama-esque relationship? They tried so hard to break boundaries and challenge societal expectations, and even after it all, they still manage to land themselves in this position, broken and uneasy.
“How could you cheat on me and still bust out the Seinfeld bullshit?” He laughs to himself, tears now freely making their way down his cheeks. He doesn’t even have the consciousness to notice the widened eyes the male beside him was sporting, let alone the hand that silently made its way on his cheeks to wipe them free of tears.
“First of all, I didn’t cheat on you, hyung.”
Woobin wasn’t cheating, at least, he said he wasn’t cheating, and Serim had enough trust in him to believe it. Hyesoo was a friend, and that hotel room witnessed no immoral deeds. He said that she told her family she was dropping out from university and was immediately shunned out. Woobin was the only one she could go to. That was his version of the story.
Serim is no fool to immediately believe him, but with the way he talked about her that tragic night in December, he just knew there weren’t any little white lies riddled in his story.
“I didn’t know what to do, so I brought her to the hotel. I didn’t know paparazzi were following us. I should’ve been more careful, I know.”
Serim puts a gentle hand on his knee, hushing him to calm down. Their eyes meet for the nth time that night, except now, roles are reversed, and Woobin is the one wearing knit eyebrows and desperate gazes.
“You like her, don’t you?”
“What?”
“I don’t think you’ve ever noticed, Woobin, but you’re like this to the people you like— people you love. You worry about them, be as accommodating as you can. It’s how you care. You like her.”
“Hyung, that’s not the point—”
“So you admit to it?” Serim raises his eyebrow at the lack of denial, although he isn’t too surprised.
“It doesn’t matter if I like her or not, I just wanted to tell you the truth.” Exasperated, Woobin’s chest rises and falls with a sigh, not wanting the sudden interrogation about his feelings.
“It’s okay to admit it, Woobin. Two months ago, I assumed something much worse and yet I still forgave you.”
Serim’s statement is met with silence, leaving both of them to process what he had just said.
“You.. forgive me? Why?”
“Because I still loved you.”
Easy as that. Serim could forgive everything Woobin has done, all because the overwhelming feeling in his chest whenever the younger smiles could never leave. Love is truly a treacherous thing, no?
“You still love me?” Serim laughs in disbelief, rolling his eyes as he shakes his head.
“I wouldn’t have been crying in the middle of the rain if I didn’t, would I?”
Woobin can only hang his head in guilt? shame? Serim couldn’t decipher the look on his ex’s face as he broke the news that: Hey! Surprise! I still love you!
Only when Woobin raises his head to look at him does he finally read his expression, although it’s something he doesn’t like: Pity.
The producer laughs bitterly. Pathetic ‘ol me.
“You should move on, hyung.” Ah, the million-dollar question of why he hasn’t moved on yet.
“You think I haven’t tried?”
And his million-dollar answer. Don’t they think Serim would try his best to move on early on in the break-up? Do they really think that he would rather bask in his misery rather than continue on with his life and forget every single little thing about Woobin? Serim has tried, tirelessly, hopelessly, to move on, but it’s been two months and he feels like he’s going only backwards and tripping on his feet.
“So how was the date?” Jungmo beams from the phone, excitement dripping from his voice. Serim almost feels sorry for disappointing him.
“Terrible. Sorry Mogu.” The atmosphere shifts dramatically from the other line, dejection laced in Jungmo’s deep sigh.
“Sorry, hyung. I really thought he’d be nice though.” Serim isn’t necessarily picky, and he’s going to go out on the limb that the guy wasn’t all that bad, but.. “We just weren’t clicking too much, Jungmo. Don’t be so hard on yourself, he looks like a good guy.”
“I don’t know, I just wanted to help, hyung.” Serim hears a distinct oof from the call, probably emanating from the younger boy’s couch. He finds out that he was right, after a couple seconds of ‘Is that Serim hyung on the phone?’ and bickering from another familiar voice.
“Give me the phone! Hi Serim hyung!”
“Hello to you too, Hyeongjunnie.”
Hyeongjun was a sweetheart. He was Jungmo’s roommate for 2 years now, and has grown acquainted with him and his friend group. And for someone 3 years younger than him, gives pretty solid advice. (Although half of it had gone unnoticed by Serim, maybe that’s a reason why he and Woobin didn’t work out.)
“Serim hyung, please stop listening to Jungmo and start listening to me.”
A faint ‘Ya! I’m your hyung’ can be heard in the background, but Serim decides that yes, it was high time to listen to Hyeongjun, because now, he’s at the back of a taxi after a bad date, still as devastated as he was earlier in the night. “Hyung. You have to let yourself heal. Make time for yourself first. You’re not going to move on if you’re stuck in the first stage of grief,” Hyeongjun pauses, trying to choose his next words correctly knowing full well that his Serim is going to listen. “You can’t offer your heart to someone else while it’s broken, hyung.”
Hyeongjun goes quiet after that, letting Serim bask in his words. Huh. It amazes him how the fresh graduate’s words ring heavy and clear despite the distorted reception.
“Hyung? Are you still there?” What used to be carefulness and genuinity was now lined with worry, so much so that he could already picture the younger’s expression on the receiving line.
“I’m still here, uh,” he takes a breath, re-processing everything and letting it all soak in, “Thank you, Hyeongjunnie. I think I needed that.”
He hears a release of held breath, “That’s good, hyung. And please, if you ever need someone to listen, I’m here, Jungmo’s here. You’ve got a lot of people behind your back, okay? You’ll get through this.”
The succeeding conversation is a haze, blurry as the reception got worse. The last thing he hears is the loud toot! of his phone, signalling the end of the call.
What was he doing? Was he seriously going to let himself go after Woobin left him! He doesn’t deserve it! No! He doesn’t deserve to be cried over, doesn’t deserve for him to get his heart this broken. He was the one who left, he was the one who let go. He could rot if all he cared!
But somewhere between the depths of his heart, and at the backseat of that taxi, he knew that it wasn’t going to be an easy ride to get there. But he will. Eventually. When that may be, might be unbeknownst to everybody, but he’s certain that once he reaches it, everything will be worth it: every tear, every 2:30 am breakdown, every failed date and every hour-long bath will be all worth it.
He looks out the car window, looking to the dark sky that houses the brightest of stars, and the kindest moon. There’s a familiar pattern he notices, one that was once comforting and sweet, now disheartening and bitter.
He knows he said that he’ll move on, but oh, how hard it is when everything reminds him of what used to be.
Where there is music, there is Woobin; and where there is Woobin, there is Serim. That’s the way things have been since they met, since they started dating. To be in love with the art and the artist, the sound and the instrument, that’s what it felt like loving Woobin.
Musical.
Loving Woobin is easy lofi beats, calming and serene, like the way his heart beats when Serim lays his head on his chest, stable, warm, comforting. It’s focus driving, except it’s only Woobin he’s hyper focused on. The world fades to gray, and he’s suspended in time, in space and blazing color. But if lofi was misplaced beats, then loving him filled all the wrong places.
Loving Woobin was lovely piano, mellow and sentimental, like the way he whispers sweet nothings into his ear as the younger falls asleep. Calming like lofi, but strung with overwhelming emotion. It’s viewing the world in rose-colored glasses, full of love.
Loving Woobin is birds chirping in the morning, alongside the scent of freshly cooked breakfast and the sun hitting their windowpane with orange light. Loving him is radio pop anthems, overplayed in the radio and yet never being able to get sick of it. Loving him is waves crashing into the shore, meeting the sand, pulling back to the ocean, only to come back again to the seaside.
Although, he can’t credit himself for that last one, because according to Woobin, that was loving Serim.
“That’s pretty cheesy, Ruby.” Serim giggles from where he’s laid, smile glistening under the moonlight. It was already so late into the night, food booths settled on the upper part of the shore were already closed and there are barely any people roaming around. It felt more sentimental, he’d argue; the ambience and the chilly breeze made every passing second more and more theirs. This moment was only for them to share.
“Well it’s true,” Woobin cards his hand through Serim’s hair, careful strokes going up and down as the taller rested his head on his thigh. “I will always come back to you.”
This prompts Serim to sit back up, eyes trained on his boyfriend as he climbs his lap, his hands now reaching for the younger’s face. Woobin’s cheeks fit his palms just right.
“I want to kiss you so much,” he breathes out.
“What’s stopping you?” At the signal of permission, Serim allows himself to fall into Woobin’s lips, wasting no time.
There, under the merciful light of the moon, and the bashful cluster of stars they shared a kiss, and four more, until they lose air to breathe. But oh, he could kiss Woobin like this for the rest of his life, and oxygen would lose its purpose.
When they part, they would meet each other in the middle again, like the waves that crash in the shore they’re sitting on, like the metaphor Woobin said a while ago. There is nothing but pure, raw love on their lips and every touch on their skin. It takes a while before they finally separate, and even when Serim pulls away, Woobin’s magnetic pull tugs him towards his boyfriend.
It’s dizzying, kissing Woobin. It’s an out-of-body experience, where nothing in the world mattered, and all control is thrown out to the wind in lieu of making Woobin feel just how much he loves him. So dizzying that Serim lets himself fall in the bed of sand beside his boyfriend.
The last thing he remembers seeing is the distant smile Woobin was wearing and a heart being formed with the stars near Cassiopeia. That’s how he knew he was doing something right in his life. The universe said it with the stars, after all. And so he rested easy atop the grains of sand, letting the night hold the reins and do what it so wished.
(He wakes up the next day smiling brighter than ever.)
But here they are now, in Woobin’s couch, talking about everything that went wrong; because while loving Woobin is musical, it is important to note that music isn’t always pleasant.
Because loving Woobin was synths and chords and sharps and strings, all mashed together to form some type of chaos only both of them can withstand. He was electric guitars on drums and sudden shifts in tempo. He was confusing, vertiginous, like the aftermath of a hurricane and he’s picking up what he can get.
Loving Woobin is screaming and crying at 4 am, undecipherable and so full of emotion for all the wrong reasons. It’s harrowing and destructive, and the only way to stop is to lose your voice. Loving Woobin is forks on glasses, shrill and irritating. Loving him was eternal elevator music, mundane and impatient, waiting to go up yet never reaching the destination. Loving him was an EDM song with a build-up without the beat drop.
Well, in this case, he guesses the beat drop was their break up.
The build-up? Countless of misunderstandings prior to the news break-out.
“This is the sixth time you stood me up on a date, Woobin. This is ridiculous!” Serim raised his voice at the singer who was currently walking away from their previous conversation.
“I told you I was busy,” Woobin reinstated, frustration building up in his voice.
“You couldn’t find time for me? For our anniversary?” The older of the pair couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He could pardon every other time Woobin stood him up, he has! But God, was he that unimportant to him that he couldn’t sneak a couple of hours into his schedule?
It was less the fact that he was busy, but more the way he was getting mad too that made the whole situation more infuriating; because how could you stand someone your boyfriend on your anniversary and still be the one to raise your voice first? Outrageous.
“This is a big project, Serim. You, of all people, should understand why I couldn’t make it!”
“And you, of all people, should be the one with me on our anniversary! Instead, I looked like a fool sitting at a table for two at that restaurant waiting for someone who didn’t even plan on coming.” They’re both screaming now, and yet Serim notes that he’s the only one who wore tears in his eyes.
“Am I more important than work?” There’s hints of scorn in his voice, and frankly, he couldn’t care if it was evident. Because Serim can be brutally honest, he’s just as much of a workaholic as Woobin, but it will never be more important than Woobin. He knows that much. He gets that work is what pays their bills, but for fuck’s sake, Woobin was a well-known artist already, surely any work he had could be put off to the side?
“I’m not having this conversation.”
Serim laughs in disbelief. “So you’re just going to run away from everything?”
“You’re not going to understand anyway, so why should I even bother?”
“I get it. I get what you want to say, Woobin. Why do you think I never complained for the previous five dates you missed? I get it. I just don’t understand why apparently your work is more import-”
Serim wasn’t even able to finish his sentence as Woobin was already walking out the door, shaking his head in evasion. “And now you’re just going to walk away. Real mature, Woobin.”
“I don’t want to be mad at you.” He says flatly. Devoid of any emotion, unfazed, indifferent. If you didn’t want to be mad at me, then why do you look like you don’t care?
Before he could even open his mouth to respond, his so-called boyfriend had already shut the door, a loud slam being the last trace of Woobin in the room. Serim throws his head back in exhaustion.
He’s so tired.
One month after their break-up, Serim was informed that Woobin wasn’t at work. Well, he was at the workplace, but he was definitely not working. Cute.
But now they’re here, and get this, Serim still forgave him.
It’s starting to get ridiculous, and he’s starting to see that. So under the dim lighting of Woobin’s living room, he stands up, brown eyes set on his front door before turning back to meet his ex-boyfriend’s eyes. “I have tried so hard to move on from you, Woobin. You should know that.”
“So thank you for the closure,” he takes a breath first, steadying his voice so it doesn’t crack, “Don’t break her heart the way you did mine.”
Serim reaches for the doorknob as soon as he sees a curt nod from the younger, taking it as his cue to leave.
“Hyung,” Woobin calls out from where he’s seated at the sofa, elbows propped on his knees and hunched back, “I’m sorry.”
Serim slams the door.
Serim knew that that day was far from his start of being okay, as evidenced by the drunken bar nights and somber playlists that followed thereafter. But at least he was trying, more actively now, since he needs to move on. A few weeks from then, news would come out that he’s dating again, although he doesn’t expect it to be released on public news outlets. He does think he’s going to hear it in passing, though.
And that he does, as a fellow producer, Allen mentions in one of their meetings.
“Okay, but isn’t it a little too early for a new relationship? Look at you!” Serim raises his eyebrow at that last statement, but his companion seems to have shrugged it off.
“I’m not saying you look terrible, but I just think you’re handling the break-up better.”
“By being a mess?”
“No! I mean- ugh, I can’t describe it. It’s just.. isn’t it a little too fast? Aren’t you hurt by this?” He buries his head in his palms, fingers warping his friend’s face when he drags his hands down in frustration.
“Can’t be hurt too much when you’ve seen it coming.”
He sips his coffee now, black straw staying in his mouth despite being done drinking. Allen’s reaction was just animated, straight out of a cartoon: complete with the enlarged eyes and floor-hitting jaw. “Dude.. You knew all this time?”
“No, but the news really put shit into perspective. They’ve been seeing each other for a few months in the company building, you know? Gossip spreads fast.” Serim sets the coffee cup on the table now, fingers interlocking on top of his lap.
“I’ve heard of it before, but I just trusted Woobin that what they were saying weren’t true,” he adds a chuckle, for effect he’d say, “But look where that landed me.”
He’s broken, burnt out, and forced to move on thanks to his ex who fell in love with his stylist. Forced to present himself in a decent way as if he doesn’t have the urge to hide under his blanket every time one of his songs play on the radio. Sometimes, he’d shit on the producer whenever Woobin had, well... less pleasant songs in terms of cohesion and well, lyrics. To him, Woobin’s voice is still prettiest when he’s singing his songs.
But god, Serim, you’re never going to move on from him when you think like this! He hears the voice in his head scream in contempt.
To which he replies with, I know!
But it’s a Thursday afternoon, and Serim is still trying to move on.
But long gone is the Thursday afternoons of What if’s and I wish. No, today was a bright new Sunday. Today was a bright new Sunday and he’s moving on to the What is and I am. (That’s kinda cheesy. Granted, he did get it from a poster at a spa, so.)
Today, he’s going to start facing the media instead of hiding and trying to save face. Today, he’s going to tell the world his side of the story, and why he decided to let netizens buzz in excitement at what he did.
Today, he's moving on, and moving forward.
Serim has a pursed smile on his lips as he changed to something more decent for the pseudo-press conference. He hears another set of knocking on his door after a few minutes, to which he assumes is Seongmin, again.
He takes one good look at himself in the mirror before answering the door. Black pants, grey shirt tucked underneath with a blazer, and his signature smile intact, he takes one breath for himself, this is the start of his song.
Long gone will be the days of wallowing in tears with his voice in the background, this is his first active step in rediscovering his voice and the sound he lost when he was but a discarded lyric sheet in his studio. He smiles, a genuine one, and turns to open the door. Time to face the world, Serim.
There’s dozens of camera flashes filling the hotel hall as soon as the door opened for Serim. Everyone wanted a piece of the latest news, and fast. Thankfully, Serim was already used to the blinding lights, or else he swears he would’ve lost his eyesight.
He sits down at the long table, adjusting the mic stand to be placed around mouth’s level. A curt clearing of the throat could be heard before he addressed the dozens of reporters in the room.
“Good afternoon all, following recent events regarding my music, I understand that you would have questions about it. Therefore, me and my team have all agreed to reach out and answer a few questions to provide reassuring truths to the public. We can start with you,” Serim says professionally, as if the script was ingrained in his head rather than a random cacophony of words he came up with on the spot.
The reporter he called on stood up, introducing himself as something Kim from something company, he doesn’t really pay attention. He doesn’t need to, he already knows the first question, (and probably the ones to come after,) “Is your newest song about your ex-boyfriend, Seo Woobin?”
Serim smirks, predictable. He leans forward to the mic, making sure every reporter will be able to take note of his resounding-
“Yes.”
A few months after the December fiasco, Woobin came out to the public as dating again, his sweet little Hyesoo gets to be displayed in front of the whole country as Seo Woobin’s newest plaything.
And Serim is once again the public’s object of pity.
And that would be absolutely fine, except for the fact that it was so damn annoying. “It’s not like I’m still miserable over him! Ugh, they should just be happy for him or something.”
Serim was currently with Wonjin, a lyricist he works with frequently at the company cafe. The younger prodigy laughs at him, his hand hitting the table as he takes joy in Serim’s overacted annoyance.
“I don’t know why you’re like this, this is good hyung!” Wonjin comments once he’s done laughing, taking a sip of his coffee in between phrases.
“Plus,” he points the poked straw towards Serim’s direction before catching it again with his mouth to drink his coffee, “They’re not wrong! You’re still miserable. You can’t even greet him Congratulations, hyung.”
“Oh shut up, where have you even found a person who congratulated their exes on their new relationship?”
“People who have already moved on, hyung.”
Serim returns the response with a deadpan look, clearly tired from random bullshit people spew. He stands up, grabbing what remained of his drink and walking away from Wonjin. The young lyricist shouts to call him back, but he doesn’t look his way anymore. Wonjin wouldn’t mind if he left him in that cafe anyway.
Instead, he finds himself walking to his studio, miraculously avoiding any reporters and paparazzi on the way. It’s been a while since he last touched his equipment, probably because he lost half of his ideas when he smashed his phone. Ah, the regret is settling now.
Maybe that’s what he can do now, check his current projects and see what he can work with.
He doesn’t expect to see one he’d like to work on at the time, mostly because he knew those demos and tracks would be printed with traces of Woobin, and he really doesn’t want to think about that.
Still, when he opens the door to the studio and finds his computer sitting there prettily, he’s determined to find something that will distract him for the mean time.
And find something, he does.
Inside one of the multiple folders in his drive was an unfinished project he remembers was supposed to be Woobin’s next comeback. Of course, this song would never be able to see the light of day anymore, what with their relationship and the tension surrounding their whole scandal. But something calls him to click on the file.
And he’s never been kind to himself anyway, so even though he knows he’ll get hurt, he clicks play, and it’s everything he remembers it to be.
A chilling piano greets his ears, followed by Woobin’s runs, elevating the mood of the song. He hears himself singing a melodious rap, riding with the beats of the track seamlessly. Oh yeah, he was supposed to have a featuring. Funny.
The rest of the verse is empty, probably because the lyrics he wrote went under reconstruction. He’ll have to look for those sheets today. When the pre-chorus hits, he’s once again met with his ex’s voice, and for some damn reason, him singing ‘Oh I need you’ sent pangs in his chest.
He’s been used to being lied to his face, but hearing those words again, make him forget everything he taught himself. Suddenly, he’s ready to gamble and lose again.
The song continues without his consciousness, lyrics pouring out but never being absorbed by the listener.
거짓말로 나를 속여도 돼
숨길 수 없던
널 위한 my last song
That was it. Maybe, maybe if Serim finishes this project, he’ll finally move on. No, he will move on. He has to.
Yes. He’s going to work on this song, and he’s going to be over Woobin once he finishes.
He once said loving Woobin was musical. A song that he could never get tired of, a melody that could lull him to sleep. But it’s been five months since they’ve broken up, it’s time to hit next instead of replaying what is a hopeless case.
He listens to the outro fade into silence as he wipes a lone tear on his cheek. One last song, his last repeat and he’ll hit Next.
기억에서 너를 보내야 해
너라는 계절 끝이 난 my last song
There’s uproar once he says his answer, with cameras flashing even more, and mics shoved in his direction. Bodyguards try their best to coax the audience, sitting them down in their seats rather than bombarding the front of the table.
When all was calm, he called another reporter. “The vocals in the intro and pre-chorus, can we confirm that those are Seo Woobin’s?”
He nods his head once, leaning to speak into the mic too, “The track has been created back in September. I do have his permission to use his voice prior to the release. Yes, it’s Woobin.”
Multiple questions follow, from “Where did you get the inspiration for this piece?” (Personal relationships.) and “Do you plan on releasing new music soon?” (I do. I participated in a K-Pop group's mini album to be released in August, please look forward to it.)
But of all the questions, only one left him speechless and prompted him to end the conference.
“Serim, any comments about Woobin’s new girlfriend?”
He glares at the reporter unkindly, the person beside her elbowing her too. Wanting to look unfazed, he purses his lips, replies,
“His relationships are no longer my business. If there’s no more relevant questions, I’d have to end this here. Thank you everyone for coming.”
The reporters went clamoring as soon as Serim stood up, headed towards the back. There’s a multitude of questions thrown at him despite the end of the meeting, but his back is already turned.
Serim’s phone rings once he arrives in his car.
1 Unread Message from Woobin:
Your song was great, hyung. Congratulations.
Serim smiles to himself, no intention of sending the younger a reply.
As he drives towards the distance, his newest song, Faded in My Last Song plays through the car’s stereo.
I have to let you go from my memory now, my last song.