Chapter Text
flashback : one year ago
A rhythmic ringtone echoed in the thin walls of a cozy home. The night sky was hanging over the outskirts of Seoul. The sound of leaves crackling underneath dirt-caked sneakers haunted the mind of a young male as he tossed around in his bed. Hong Minchan sighed softly, a pile of comic books strewn over his bed. His eyes were closed, a corner of a comic book tucked into his closed palm as he tried to rest from a tiring day at work.
The buzzing of his phone was continuous, it's hum fading out and then crescendoing. Minchan reached out towards the nightstand where his phone was settled at. The darkness of the room lessened as Minchan's phone screen lit up a part of the room.
Someone was calling him. Yoo Kangmin.
"Kangmin?" Minchan whispered to himself, his eyebrows furrowed. He shook his head, I'm too tired-my phone's battery is low too.
Minchan tossed the phone aside, letting the ringing drown his thoughts as he laid down calmly on his bed, sleep enveloping him in gentle hold as he dozed off slowly. For some reason, from a distance, he could hear the fabric of clothing being teared as a body was being dragged across an earthy forest, fog hovering over it like an enormous cloud.
Muffled sobs filled Minchan's ears, the eerie noise of a hammer being swung down to a victim's body. The dark haired male's curled his fingers, the night sky dripping away like morning dew on humid grass. Soon enough, morning came by with loud knocks on the front door of Minchan's apartment.
"Investigator Hong! Are you in there?!" A policemen shouted, their fist pounding the door.
Ink smears marked Minchan's fingertips-sticky and gritty as it had dried over the skin of his fingers. An ink pen had splattered on his hand, leaving specks of black liquid on his left hand. A golden stream of light peeked through a gap in between the white curtains in Minchan's room, the light layers of fabric wavering along with wind's movements. The warm light fell over the young male's face, his eyes cracking open in shock.
Minchan sat up in a quick movement of his back. Had he been dreaming? It felt so vivid. The sound of a hammer or a knife cutting through skin . . . was Kangmin hurt?
"Hong Minchan-ssi! Please come out!" Minchan turned to the loud shouts, wiping his hands on his loose t-shirt. His feet dragging along the wooden floor. At the entryway, he slipped on a pair of slippers. The moment he pulled the door open, his heart began to tick uncontrollably like a bullet locking into place inside of a chamber of a pistol.
"Is there something wrong?" Minchan's voice was slow due to his long sleep.
A taller policeman smoothed out his blue dress shirt, the bright wine colored tie was loosened from a frustrating night of searching and answering crime-based calls. "Do you know Yoo Kangmin?"
Minchan nodded, lips sealed as the next phrase of the police officer made him stumble against the seal of the doorway. His irises were shaking, face contorting with confusion and fear. The luster of sweat coming down at the back of his neck.
Yoo Kangmin is missing.
A step backward was all it took for Minchan to be sucked into a void of guilt. He shut the door of his apartment, his body automatically shut down. Minchan hurried to search for the remote of the TV on his bedroom. Once he turned it on, a headline of a news reporting company made his skin grow colder. A female anchor was announcing the sudden disappearance of a young male, Yoo Kangmin. His disappearance had no leads, no clues, no answers. The last question the anchor asked was: Could this young boy be alive after fourteen hours? As known, a serial killer is still on the loose. Are these cases connected?
SBS NEWS REPORT:
On the night of September 14th, 2020. At 5 PM, a report was made of a missing young male. Yoo Kangmin, 18 years old, has disappeared. No one knows his whereabouts, the only thing known is that a charm-filled keychain was found with blood near a river in the Gangnam Forest.
If you find any suspicious leads or clues, please contact your local police station.
Minchan shook his head, plopping down onto the cream colored couch. I didn't answer his calls . . . but I need to save him. He's not dead, he's strong.
Yoo Kangmin, I'll find you. Just wait for me . . . keep on breathing until then.
_____________
A cold breeze brushed by the city of Seoul. The citizens of South Korea were walking peacefully around the sidewalks, taking their pets for a stroll-while some-ran at a quick pace. A young male with long locks of coffee colored hair was rushing past clusters of people on a crosswalk.
Loud curses were thrown at the male, earning a few smacks from middle aged women as he ran to get to the other side. His blue stringed id badge was dangling from his neck, its plastic covering striking his face with each quick stride.
홍민찬.
Minchan took a deep breath as he leaned on the glass wall of a large police department. He fanned his tucked-in navy blue t-shirt, feeling sweat at his chest and back from the long run. His fingers flattened out the opening of his black blazer. His chestnut eyes searched for anyone he knew in his job field. He sighed in relief, blowing out a few strands of hair that had fallen over his shiny forehead.
"Hong Minchan! Are you late again?!" A hard smack made Minchan tumble forward.
Minchan turned slowly, heart thumping. His eyes met with the face of a younger male. Kim Yongseung. Minchan's lips formed a smile, bringing a hand to Yongseung's shoulder.
"I'm not late. I'm just on time-you'll be late if you don't clock in!" Minchan's feet started to head inside of the police station in Gangnam-that was known to have a bad reputation online for the 'lack of reinvestigation'. This was the Seoul Gangnam Police Station.
Yongseung's quick feet stomped on the slick floor as he caught Minchan's wrist. "Ya. Seonbae. Just this one time, make an excuse for me too! You always leave me behind."
Minchan shook Yongseung's cold hand off. "I leave you behind because you're slow. Come on."
The corners of Yongseung's lips lifted, he learned to walk at the same confident pace as Minchan, despite being late. As the doors opened, their eyes were met with the chief of their crime team.
"Both of you are late. Minchan, you're excused. Yongseung-" The elderly male began when he was suddenly shoved to the side by Yongseung as the young male ran off to the meeting room and began working.
Minchan's lips formed a line, he rose his eyebrows as he shrugged. He felt the harsh gaze of his team leader, immediately proceeding to bow down. "He's excited to work. Have you heard of Kangmin yet?"
The old man waved Minchan away, shaking his head. His aging wrinkles making him appear more disturbed. "Go work instead."
Minchan felt a few harsh pats on his back. Even taking a step was hard for him. That same phrase had stuck to him. Yoo Kangmin is missing. The long haired male breathed deeply, joining Yongseung in the Special Crimes Unit Meeting Room One.
Yongseung's fingers ran through his dark hair, blonde strands highlighting his locks of hair. His grey blue eyes met with the stern eyes of their team leader.
"Mr. Jang, there has been no leads. It's been a complete-" Yongseung was cut off.
The elderly male, Mr. Jang, gave Minchan a sincere look. "Minchan, why don't you take the day off. It's your birthday-Yongseung, join him."
That morning, Yongseung and Minchan went off for early drinks. Their laughter had died out as they reached Minchan's apartment. Yongseung trailed behind Minchan as they walked up the stairs and head inside of Minchan's home.
Yongseung's eyes took in the details of his long-known friend. Minchan's bedroom was clean and every item was adjusted neatly. There was one detail that stuck out to him. In the back of the apartment was a space where only plants resided at. The pots of green leafed plants that sat on top of a window sill extender were wilting. Minchan always watered his plants, why had he stopped?
"You can stay the night if you-" Minchan's eyes grew cold as Yongseung stepped towards a locked room on the far side of the apartment.
"Why do you have this locked?" Yongseung's innocent question was answered with a sharp remark.
"If you don't want to know, then don't ask. I'm tired-so can we just call it a day?" Minchan removed his blazer, laying down on his bed. His heart was still thrumming like a year ago.
Yongseung chewed on his lower lip, plopping down next to Minchan. "You know, regret is the most painful thing to live with."
Minchan gave no response, his light coffee colored eyes were brim with tears. His phone was clutched tightly in his hand. Minchan closed his eyes tightly, a single tear rolling down his left cheek.
"When you're in a swamp, you need to get out of it before you hit the bottom. I know you'll get through this. We'll find him." Yongseung's encouraging words lifted a weight off of Minchan's shoulders.
It won't do me good to be upset, finding him is what matters.
Yongseung reached into his pocket, his fingers hooking around a keychain. There were no blood stains on it-at least not anymore. "I didn't know when to hand this to you, think of it as a token of hope."
Yongseung dropped the object into Minchan's open palm. Minchan's saddened eyes grew a bit brighter, he held onto it tightly. The charms that hung from the metal loop had a special significance to Kangmin's everyday life.
Minchan was part of that life. And he was still going to be part of it. Even if it killed him.
___________
A sweet aroma of fresh coffee beans being crushed into tiny bits of sand-like particles filled every inch of this café. The walls were painted with neutral colors, giving it a cozy vibe. A young male with ink tinted hair waited patiently for his companion. His pointer finger tapped the wooden table softly, his ears focusing on the music that was playing very quietly in the back of the café.
Dongheon's lips curled into a smile as a pair of arms wrapped around his neck from behind him. He heard a calming voice speak into his ear. "Did you wait long?"
That same dark caramel haired male found a seat in front of Dongheon, his smile radiant as he folded his hands neatly in his lap. His hazel eyes locking with Dongheon's, his affection so strong that his eyes seemed to be brightened by speckles of stars.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting-" Hoyoung started, lips becoming parted as he bent down remove the film camera he had strapped to his neck and slipped into a backpack.
Dongheon responded calmly, a shy smile extending as he pushed his hair back. "Why aren't you wearing a jacket? It's really cold out, Hoyoung-ah."
Hoyoung's cheeks burned a bright pink, blood rushing to his face in a quick second. His top teeth sank into his bottom lip, a tiny glint showing. "I was in a hurry so I didn't have time . . . to get something warm to put on."
Dongheon frowned, his eyes falling to Hoyoung's pale hands. His clean fingers had small paper-cuts, splotched pink from rubbing the back of his hands for warmth, the silver double-banded ring on his pointer finger was well fitted. Hoyoung's loose and oversized sweater was the color of seafoam, the hem reaching lower than his waist, covering a part of the straight cut jeans he was wearing.
"Here, drink this. I don't want you to catch a cold. Don't make that face-I know you don't like coffee, but just try it." Dongheon slid a cup of hot espresso towards Hoyoung's hands, noticing how he tucked them in his lap.
Hoyoung's eyebrows furrowed, his palms coming together to fold around the cup that had been offered to him. The color of the coffee reminded him of the shade dalgona had. The young male's thin fingers wrapped around the handle of the cup, bringing it towards his lips. On the opposite side, he caught the sight of a dimple line peeking out from Dongheon's cheek. Dongheon was staring.
After taking a single sip, Hoyoung rested the cup back down. His thoughts were scattered, was it because of Dongheon? The espresso had left a sweet taste on Hoyoung's lips, the sweetness of the hot liquid fading as he passed his tongue across his bottom lip, his heartbeat speeding.
"Drink it all, I already drank some," Dongheon commented, fingers fiddling with the buttons on his overcoat.
Hoyoung nodded, his eyes not able to focus on the coffee in front of him. His green fading to brown eyes were fixed onto Dongheon's grey-blue ones. How can someone be pretty from a short distance?
Dongheon's eyes darted to a young female that passed their table. He called out for her, she stopped in her tracks and returned to the table where the couple was at. Her hand was reaching out to remove the cup from the table when she tilted the cup, without noticing, the hot espresso spilled towards Hoyoung's direction.
Hoyoung's pants had gotten splashed, his expression was filled with disappointment and worry. The waitress rushed with napkins, handing them to Dongheon to help Hoyoung clean up the mess. Hoyoung was quiet as Dongheon strolled over towards him, kneeling down to pat dry the lower part of Hoyoung's pants. Hoyoung's fingers folded over the edge of his chair, a cold sensation running up his spine the moment Dongheon's warm fingertips closed around his bare ankle. The dark haired male's touch was barely noticeable, it felt like brushing a feather against skin lightly.
Every time Dongheon pressed his fingers into Hoyoung's ankle, Hoyoung would tense up. He blinked several times to realize that Dongheon had already paid and was standing before him now, waiting for him to get dragged back from his dizzy world.
A hand was offered to Hoyoung.
"It's time to go, Hoyoung-ah. Do you want to go to my place or yours?" Dongheon's question caused Hoyoung to pause in his tracks as his fingers held the railing of the doorway to exit.
Hoyoung pushed open the door, but only wide enough for one eye to see what was behind that door. Rain drops were teeming down the roof covering, the static sound of rain pelting on the concrete sidewalk was somewhat calming. He felt a hand touch his shoulder, he spun around. Dongheon's body came closer, his arms moving behind Hoyoung's back to extend the overcoat he was once wearing over Hoyoung's shoulders.
"You can go now," Dongheon's thumb moved along Hoyoung's cheek and down to his chin. His free hand clutched the collar of Hoyoung's coat and moved it higher to where it'd lay over his head.
Hoyoung nodded, his heart was racing more than ever. He let his hand fall into Dongheon's palm, admiring Dongheon from the corner of his eye as they walked slowly in the rain.
"You're getting wet from the rain, you have a piano recital today. You're way more important than me, here." Hoyoung began to remove the coat, but Dongheon stopped him.
"Keep it on, your apartment is close anyway. Don't worry about me." Dongheon rubbed a spot on Hoyoung's head, reassuring him.
After a few minutes of walking, the pair was already trudging up the stairs to reach Hoyoung's apartment. At the door, Hoyoung entered the pin to enter, watching as Dongheon made his way inside first. There was something that was pulling Hoyoung from moving forward, his eyes were glued to Dongheon, gazing down at him as he was resting in the white couch near Hoyoung's bed, it's back facing the painted far wall.
Dongheon turned his head, his lips extending into a wide smile. He patted a spot next to him, "Anja." Sit here.
The copper haired male approached Dongheon after removing his shoes, his legs wobbly as his heart was picking up speed once more. Hoyoung truly admired Dongheon, as his older partner, and knew he could rely on him for anything. Dongheon was generous in many way, but had an attitude for when things weren't right.
Hoyoung pursed his lips with uncertainty, curling his legs below his body. His hands went through his hair, leaving it tousled. Tears blurred his vision as spiraling loneliness and sadness began to filled his entire chest. Within a small instant, Hoyoung felt his body being circled by a pair of strong arms. Soft sobs left Hoyoung's lips as he hid his face in Dongheon's neck, tears streamed down, burning his face along with his heated breath that would bounce back to him.
"Don't cry, I'm sorry I haven't been with you in a while. Why haven't you talked with me? Instead of holding it all to yourself. . ." Dongheon leaned back until he was laying down flat on the couch, his head resting on a pillow that was placed over the arm of the couch. His arms scooped Hoyoung up so that he'd be laying next to him.
Hoyoung tossed and turned until he propped his head on Dongheon's arm. His eyes were red-rimmed, glassy as if he were to start crying again. "Will you still be here when I wake up? You always leave after I fall asleep."
Dongheon closed a hand over Hoyoung's smaller one, reaching out to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind the younger male's ear. "Let's try this. How about you come to the piano recital in the afternoon? And you can do whatever you want with me afterwards."
Hoyoung closed his eyes for a short moment whenever he felt Dongheon lean in slowly to press a gentle kiss on his forehead. Hoyoung swallowed down his nervousness, his hands coming to Dongheon's face, eyes following every unique detail of his face. The shorter male let his head fall against Dongheon's chest, wondering how long it'd take for time to allow the pair to stay together like this for a period of time.
Both of their schedules were filled. Dongheon had a difficult time visiting Hoyoung whenever he was being chased with cameras and recorders. Dongheon knew how empathetic Hoyoung was, so it'd pain him to be far away from a loved one. Loneliness was something that Hoyoung couldn't handle on his own and neither could Dongheon.
Dongheon sighed softly. Peering down like this at Hoyoung made him realize how attached Hoyoung was to people who showed him kindness. The thought reminded him of a certain figure in his life. Hoyoung turned the opposite way, his back facing Dongheon as he extended his arm to grab a pair of wired earbuds.
Dongheon's arm stooped, his grip tightening over Hoyoung's fingers. Hoyoung could tell by his peripheral vision that Dongheon didn't want him to hear what was playing in the ear piece.
Hoyoung's fingers held on tightly to the wires, pulling Dongheon's phone to his own chest. "I can't sleep without hearing music."
The dark haired male's smile wasn't bright or reflecting any happiness. His expression was blank, though his eyes gave off the feeling that he had secrets. But the secrets that were kept hidden because of the pain from suffering. Hoyoung lift the phone in his palm, finding the screen turned on. Music was already playing.
A flash of pain struck Dongheon's eyes. Hoyoung's eyebrows furrowed with concern. He knew the piano piece that was playing, its sound muffled inside of Hoyoung's palm.
Kiss the Rain by Yiruma (Lee Ruma)
"Hyung. . ." Hoyoung's eyes softened, a flare of sunlight found his face through the semi-extended curtains.
Dongheon shook his head, his grief-stricken face easing away as he swooped down, his arms circling around Hoyoung's frame. "I want to stay a bit longer with you today."
Hoyoung's breaths were slow in his chest. His face grew hotter as Dongheon grew even closer, being able to feel his warm breath brushing against his own lips. The prominent shades of green that spread across the light brown threads of color appeared gentle and tender. He remained still, Dongheon's thumb going under his chin. It was those long yet short moments that made Hoyoung feel safe.
A single bird sings, it just needs another bird to sing the same melancholy melody.
The pair sealed their promise with a sweet touch of their lips.
"Let's go to the recital," Dongheon's eyes were bright again, the essence of euphoria had returned. Hoyoung replied with a kiss on the tip of Dongheon's nose.
___________
CJ E&M NEWS CENTER
SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA
A casted shadow walked across the pavement, feet walking steadily into a blue-tinted building. When the figure walked inside, he could hear the faint tinkering of keyboards and mouses. The male's image scewed by the large windows he passed, greeting as he came along the different departments. His bitter expression subtle underneath a small smile, pulling his phone from his pocket as his phone began to ring.
The male's sage eyes observed the news stories from the large TV screens, hearing the reporter's voice inside his ear as he walked farther into the company. He stopped his tracks to click a button that would lead to entrance to the elevator, hearing the small ping of the elevators doors opening and letting him inside.
"Jo gijanim, have you heard the latest news of today?" A voice on the other phone line asked the male as he answered the phone.
"No, I haven't been able to. What is it?" The reporter asked, waiting impatiently for the elevator to reach the designated destination.
"Check for yourself."
The reporter sighed, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth as he proceeded to walk through the elevators opening doors to the news center's largest department in Seoul. An eruption of yelling voices was heard back and forth, phones blaring in the distance. The same figure ignored the chaos inside his own department, being used to the roudyness of it and of being part of the news media department.
Being a part of the press wasn't easy, but to this particular male, it was a game of destruction and survival of the fittest. He was well-known in the industry, his presence was heard of and no celebrity was known to not be badly spoken about. The name of the reporter is Jo Gyehyeon, entitled to the hottest news and gossip that was heard of the entertainment media. He was now heading into his own world, walking into it as he walked inside his office and settled down to his desk to search the trending side of the media.
'가장 기다려온 피아니스트 주연호가 정신건강으로 인해 공백기를 깨고 컴백합니다.'
Gyehyeon read every headline of each article, each article stating that the appearance of the young pianist was not to be expected of. The public's opinion swayed with their own thoughts on the young pianist, sharing their distaste for his "apparent" appearance later in the year. The dark haired male continued to scroll, reading the news articles from the company he worked for. He read the article out loud, his voice cut off by a sudden knock on the office door.
Most awaited pianist, Ju Yeonho to make a comeback after hiatus due to mental health.
"Come in," Gyehyeon said, turning his head to the door to see the CEO of the company.
"Jo gijanim, I assume you have seen the news about our beloved artist." The man strolled inside the office, eyes narrowed toward Gyehyeon.
Gyehyeon waited to answer, nodding in comprehension as he pulled himself away from his chair. "I have seen the news. It's almost impossible for a celebrity to make a comeback due to mental health."
"Impossible? I suppose you're right. No one makes it alive in this industry of the media."
The elderly man was dressed in a charcoal suit and tie, his medium weight not noticeable with the tailored suit he wore. His footsteps trickled, ripping inside Gyehyeon's ears as he grew closer to the reporter. "Jo gijanim, since you're the head of my press, I want you to hold a press conference for the artist."
"A press conference of Ju Yeonho's return to the music industry."
"Will you be able to do so? I know that you won't fail me, Mr. Jo." The CEO let out a small chuckle, shrugging slightly as he excused himself.
Gyehyeon looked back to the computer's screen, seeing the multiple headlines that were pulled up on multiple tabs. Ju Yeonho is coming back into the music industry after a whole year.
____________
ARTS CENTER INCHEON
INCHEON, SOUTH KOREA
A male news anchor, belonging to the news broadcasting center of YTN, located inside the CJ E&M center was channeling his voice into a microphone as he stared into the lenses of a camera. "Here, at the arts center of Incheon, the YTN press is holding a press conference regarding a pianists unexpected comeback."
"The pianist, Ju Yeonho, announces that he is back on the SNS platforms yesterday morning, causing the whole music audience to go into chaos."
"Today, we will reveal the truth about the pianists words. . ."
Gyehyeon walked through the double doors of the meeting room, seeing the large banner on one wall. The banner read of Ju Yeonho's comeback press conference, cameras and voice recorders being prepped for the conference. There were multiple tables placed at each side of the room, long wooden tables with microphones placed up on top of the stage where the artist would have to be present with the board of directors.
The press was to be seated, staff and reporters set to their positions with either a camera or a laptop in front of them. A group of music directors came to their seats at the stage, their presence intimidating as they were the directors of Arts Center Incheon. They were awaiting the pianist, their bodies leaning towards the press in respect before sitting and talking between each other as they waited.
Gyehyeon was at the table on the first row, seated at the center of the whole press as the head of the group. He pulled open his laptop, an empty word document where he could be typing each word that the artist would speak. Indistinctive murmurs were heard throughout the press conference, they were questioning Yeonho's appearance and whether he was able to even face the press. Their eyes looked ahead, passing Gyehyeon to see the board of directors. Gyehyeon turned his eyes to a rising man, the man leaning his lips to the microphone to speak.
When will the pianist make his appearance?
The man glanced to one of the director's, giving himself permission to speak the words of an apology. "I am sorry to announce that our pianist, Ju Yeonho, is unstable to–"
"He's here!" A member from the press exclaimed.
The broad umber doors opened, its ornate design engraved into the skin of a male who's fingers pushed the doors open. A swarm of flashing lights shot the male as soon as he took a step, a round of members from the press surrounding him as he walked with his eyes focused on the board of directors and the cameras that were being pointed at him. The male's irises were filled with the dark colors of the ocean, clouding and filling with specks of sand.
The press members gasped at the unexpected appearance, taking each detail from the male that was presenting himself into the press conference. His hair the shade of a warm chestnut, strands of hair highlighted and changed the tawny color of chestnut into a subtle and neutral color of bisque. He wore a dark navy blue blazer, breast pocket embroidered in white, watching watching the dress shirt he wore under. The hands of the male swayed carefully, taking each step with care as he reached the table with his board of directors.
"Annyeonghaseyo, joneun pianiseuteu Ju Yeonho-imnida. " The male sat next to the previous director whom had been interrupted, giving him a cold stare before turning to the press.
Hello. I am the pianist, Ju Yeonho.
The wavering click of the camera shutter opening and closing was heard frantically through the conference, a white glare inside Yeonho's eyes as he faced the press with an empty stare. He heard the voices of male and female reporters, overlapping questions surrounding him like angry crows clustering over their prey.
"Mr. Ju, is it true that you've finally recovered?" A male asked.
"Do you have a date on when you're coming back?"
"After a year, how does it feel to be back into the industry?"
Yeonho's mind bored into the questions being asked, useless questions that were necessary to answer in the given circumstance to the press conference. He had presented himself at the conference to show that he was stable, wanting to show a good image to the public and to the eyes of the press who always looked for someone to devour.
A male raised his hand in front of the press, calling for their silence as he proceeded to speak. The male's dark coppered hair and emerald eyes were unfamiliar in Yeonho's eyes, unaware of the backlash he was about to recieve.
"Mr. Ju, I understand that you have recently recovered from mental health after a year." The male clarified, looking into the pianist's eyes.
"And now, you've decided to come back?"
An identification card was wrapped loosely around the male's neck, reading '조계현'. His eyes tightening their grip over Yeonho's now reluctant stare, their eyes locked on each other as cameras continued to flash. "May I ask why you have decided to come back after a year of hiatus?"
"Back a few years ago, I recall many pianists that have gone into hiatus, like in your case. . . that have never been able to escape their mental health and do not come back."
Yeonho leaned closer to the microphone, observing the reporter and noticing his status amongst the rest of the press. This reporter is the head of the press. "I have come back to show that I am capable of going back into the industry as a stable pianist."
"Hal su itttagoyo? There's no such thing as the ability to come back to such an industry." Gyehyeon's sly face became darker, skimming past papers. Can you?
The young male artist sunk into his chair, sighing to hear the reporter's protests against his return to the industry. "I don't understand–"
"The public or the music industry has no intention of accepting you as the said 'pianist' that you say you are."
"Ajiktto michiniraneun kkoripyoreul dalgo i opkkyeeso saranameul su itttago saenggakaseyo?" The dark haired turned to Yeonho, his voice seering into the artist's ears.
Do you still think that you'll survive in this industry with being labeled for "crazy"?
The ombre haired male grounded his top teeth on his full crimson bottom lip. He chewed on his lip, pressing harder on the skin as he heard the reporter speak. The male's heart thumped toughly inside his chest, heart beat raking against his ribs in an unpleasant way that made Yeonho nauseous inside. Droplets of sweat hung from the ends of his hair, shaky breaths coming to him as he pulled his hands closer to one another.
"I'll make sure to prove it to you all that I am stable enough. I am well aware of the position that I am in, but I can assure you that I will come back with stability." Yeonho reassured the press, eyes falling to the same reporter whom had asked such arrogant questions.
Gyehyeon suddenly scoffed, his scoff murmured through the crowd of reporters. His thin lips curled into a smile, setting down the pen he was once holding. "Your appearance you've made today proves to me that you are not mentally stable."
"From what I see, you want to gain the attention of being mentally prepared to enter an industry. But you're still mentally unstable because you still are not able to tell show that you are mentally prepared."
"Making an appearance here doesn't prove to the press or the public that you are stable." Gyehyeon's arms locked themselves close to his middle, his smile leaving his lips.
"Gijanim, I am more–" Yeonho's cheeks grew dark within seconds, flustered by the sudden verbal attacks.
"It's going to be hard to gain the attention of the people after a whole year. The senior pianist, Lee Dongheon has gained the eyes of the music industry as one of the best pianists in Korea." The reporter interrupted, earning the shocked remarks of his team.
"Gisaga manayo. These articles on your rivalry with Lee Dongheon, a breathtaking showdown between the fraud and the innocent."
There are many articles.
Yeonho's face grew a darker red, contrasting the mellow color of his ivory skin that was growing hotter underneath the reporter's presence. His fingers curled into his palm, nails digging deeply into the skin, pressing hard enough for his palms to have open creases that would swell into the cuts. There was fury hidden inside his eyes, crystal eyes becoming colorless as he stared.
Am I the fraud?
"Ju Yeonho, a graduate from Lila Art High School and Lee Dongheon, the king of Seoul National University." Gyehyeon's eyes followed Yeonho's, starting their game of destruction.
The reporter stood as soon as he saw the flustered pianist take a stand. He watched Yeonho, hearing a voice through the canal of the microphone and the stomping of feet rushing out from the door and some getting closer to the artist. "Chwejong seungjaneun nuguilkkayo?"
Who will be the final winner?
"The meeting is over." A director announced, motioning all of the board to stand and bow to leave with an excuse.
The press yelled at one another, some leaving past the double doors with their belongings and leaving Gyehyeon with the work to clean. Some reached out for the pianist, their voice recorders pulled against Yeonho's will and asking questions as Yeonho started to make his way from the stage. His eyes had become weary with defeat, lips quivering as if he was holding back something.
Each member of the press was told to go back their homes or to their jobs, leaving the room and only leaving Gyehyeon alone inside with no one to help him with the missing equipment that was still left on the tables. The ambiguous reporter started to organize his belongings, pulling his camera from the table and pointing the lens directly towards a figure whom he hadn't thought was still there.
The camera clicked several times, photos inserted inside as a memory of distraught for the reporter to take into account. He was now facing the figure, their eyes meeting with bitterness. Gyehyeon's wrist was caught, being tugged at and pulled farther into the room as he tried to pull himself away.
"You have no fear when you're just a mere reporter!" The figure yelled, their hand pressing harder over Gyehyeon's wrist.
The figure that Gyehyeon was facing was no one other than Ju Yeonho, the failed prodigy of a pianist with poor mental health. His hands pressed harder, driving Gyehyeon further away from the doors and closer to a different room where their voices would not be heard.
"I'm only doing my job, Mr. Ju." Gyehyeon responded, no fear written in his words. Despite being tethered in Yeonho's grasp, he was calm and remained without fighting back.
"How dare you mock me in front of everyone? You even had the audacity to bring up my rival. And even questioned my capability to return into this industry!" Yeonho took Gyehyeon by the shoulders, their bodies growing closer.
"Jega yogikkaji ogi wihae otton gwajongeul gyokkonneunji aseyo?"
Do you know what I had to go through to get this far?
Gyehyeon's hands began to tremble, his body being thrashed in Yeonho's hold. He didn't break his gaze from Yeonho, his eyes pondering over the male as he felt the hands of oppression holding him still. "I may not know what you went through, but from what I know. . . you won't be able to beat Mr. Lee at this point."
Yeonho's blotched hands ripped at Gyehyeon's collar, the buttons of his shirt barely on a hold as Yeonho pulled. His hands boiled against Gyehyeon's skin, nails barely grazing the neck of the male.
"I won't let a lowlife reporter like you get in my way." Yeonho sneered, baring his teeth as he pressed Gyehyeon closer. "You only make a living destroying the lives of artists like me."
Gyehyeon shook his head, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he tried to release himself from Yeonho's firm grasp. His throat closed off, making him gasp for air. The lack of air scorched his lungs, tears clinging inside his forest-filled eyes. His eyes begged for Yeonho to let him go, wanting to leave.
"I was only doing my job. What's so wrong about that?" Gyehyeon questioned, holding on to Yeonho's hands.
"Sagwahaeyo. Sagwahaseyo!" Yeonho had dropped his hands from Gyehyeon's throat, a finger jolting at the reporter's head.
Apologize. Apologize!
"I will not apologize." Gyehyeon looked down at the floor, his head being pulled back each time Yeonho would poke him. "Wonhaji anayo."
I don't want to.
"Don't provoke me. . ." Yeonho warned, pushing the slim male.
"I told you that it's my job to do so. I'll make it painful enough that you wish that you were dead." Gyehyeon's words scalded the male's heart, puncturing through and ripping across.
"You damn–" Yeonho's hand had rose, a sudden urge to slap the reporter came to mind.
The door creaked open, a tall figure walking inside with a burning stare. He stared through Yeonho, searching for answers at the view of the male who was about to slap a stranger. The figure approached the two, pulling Gyehyeon away from the younger. "Ju Yeonho."
"What do you think you're doing?" Yeonho's rival asked, ghostly eyes darting towards Gyehyeon and back at Yeonho. "Do you wish to ruin your career more than what it is?"
Gyehyeon stood behind the older pianist, sweat streaming down the base of his neck. His breath was heard inside the room, the tension inside growing. The older pianist bowed at the reporter, giving permission to leave. "You may leave, gijanim."
Gyehyeon took a last glance at Yeonho before leaving, his footsteps dispersing from the floor and out from the room. The room was filled with silence, hearts beating vastly inside two chests. The hearts pounding hard enough to be heard, their bodies taut without any movement.
"Why are you doing this, Yeonho?" Dongheon pressed, stepping closer to the male.
Dongheon searched the male, seeing the veins that protruded from Yeonho's skin. He could see the white pearls of tears filling Yeonho's eyes sockets and the quivering of his lips. The male finally heard a breath being withdrawn, sobs resonating inside the room they were in. It was clear to Dongheon that Yeonho was tired, he was tired of hiding.
"Yeonho," Dongheon stepped even closer, holding out a hand.
"Don't come near me!" Yeonho shouted, striking Dongheon on the chest to push him away.
Dongheon stumbled as he was shoved, staying in balance as he heard Yeonho's continuous cries. The screams of a male rung inside his head and ears. "Why is it you?!"
"Why can I not beat you?!"
Yeonho's shoulders shook as he cried, tears streaming down his ivory skin. His appearance was battered, the cuffs of his sleeves had been undone. Strands of hair unkept and falling across Yeonho's eyes. The male was unrecognizable, different from the person on camera and on piano recitals.
"I-If you were inside my shoes. . . you would've done the same. The cameras–aren't you tired of every move you make be watched?"
Dongheon didn't answer, unable to answer Yeonho's inquiry about being watched. In the years of his career, he had gotten used to the cameras and even the smallest movement that was watched. Therefore, he was careful, hidden from the public eye and kept silent. But now, the world they lived in was different, everyone is the judge of your career and on how it ends.
"If I were you, I would reflect on my actions and apologize to those you've hurt. The reporter–he deserves an apology." Dongheon told Yeonho, ignoring the question and changing ways.
Dongheon parted away from Yeonho without another word spoken and turned to leave. He had left Yeonho in misery once again, hearing his screams inside the room, followed by the wails that ripped from his chest and through his throat. The walls nearly echoed from the outside, the screams muffled as soon as Dongheon left the arts center.
In a world like this, the artist doesn't choose their ways. Their ways are the public's, that's the game of the survival in the industry of music.
No matter the musician with the broken hand of a pianist.
____________
SBS NEWS REPORT:
On September 17th of 2021, 12:45
PM KST. A report was made to the authorities of a unconfirmed body was found inside a forest in the outskirts of Seoul, located in the Gyeonggi Province. The body was found to be wearing a red buttoned shirt and colored pants.
If you find any suspicious leads or clues, please contact your local police station.
A pair of light orbs of brown stared at the TV screen, watching the news as it ran by. Inside the male's hands lay a file, titled "Photograph Killer Case". He looked back inside the file, reading along the lines before standing before the TV and heading inside a room which was locked away from the eye.
Minchan opened the door to the room, revealing the bordered walls of a case plastered on the walls. On the walls was a case unsolved to this day, still trying to find the true culprit and what lies lay ahead of time. Photographs of Kangmin were clinging on strings, red dots ticking the time and place where he was last scene. And now, Minchan was placing more nails on the wall, being placed somewhere inside the Gyeonggi Province.
The male looked back at the cold case and back at the wall, perhaps these two cases were intertwined? Minchan burrowed his thoughts deeply inside his head, taking a picture down from the crime board. The photograph held a photo of the young boy, a smile on his lips as he stared into the camera in which the photo was being taken with.
Minchan observed the room, seeing the newspapers and printed documents that were displayed in front of him like a thriller book. He was inside his own book, trying to solve two cases and finding whether these cases could've been done by the same person. And if these cases were different from from other, then Minchan was fixed on finding the two culprits of each cold case.
When you continuosly turn lies into the truth, you become blinded to the truth.