Work Text:
Friday only means one thing – a noisy, busy diner.
Through the bustling, Jaehyun juggles one order after another. A table won’t be seen unoccupied for more than 10 seconds, always accepting new customers as soon as the last ones have paid. He’s been on his feet since lunchtime, biting down his tongue to keep the protests down.
“Here you go, gentlemen,” he puts the tray down and immediately unloads the food. Carefully. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
One of the two men tuts as he pulls his plate close to him. From the other side of the diner, someone’s child wails. “With this kind of service, I assume you won’t be expecting some tip after, will you?”
Being in this line of work, he’s seen all kinds of people out there. And their common denominator? Rude. Workers like him could do with a little bit of understanding and empathy. After all, he handles these snooty customers’ food. Sure, he’s not the cook and he’s just a waiter. But if he so wishes, if they push the wrong buttons, he’s not above spitting into their drinks and brushing their thinly sliced steak across his pits.
Jaehyun smiles apologetically as the child shrieks louder over the weekend cacophony. “We are really sorry, sir. And tipping is entirely up to you. Whether you want to give me some or not, I’m happy to serve you.”
“Pssh.”
As he turns to get more of the other orders, he makes a mental note to remember that bastard and sneeze into his food next time.
They’re currently short-staffed so Jaehyun’s duties for the day aren’t limited to jotting down orders and serving them. He answers calls, arranges deliveries, and is the designated cuss dump of customers who can’t wait for a free table.
It gradually dwindles by 4pm. They get an hour of reprieve, until the 5pm batch of devils comes. Jaehyun balances a tray on each hand as he saunters towards one of the tables at the far back of the diner, thinking of the four hours left before clock out, when a boy comes out of nowhere and barrels into his legs.
Bowls and glasses break, cutleries clatter amidst the smeared, wasted food. Jaehyun stands at the center of the circle mess, dissociating with the background noise muffling by the second.
He stares, heart pounding. This will certainly be ripped out of his wage. How much is all this food on the floor? Why can’t parents put a leash on their dog-kids if they are not going to cover at least half of the money Jaehyun will lose? It’s not even his goddamn fault!
One of the other servers, Yuta, swoops in to start clearing the way. Jaehyun wordlessly steps away, glancing towards the parents of the kid who just took a chunk off his cheque. They are not even the least bit sorry while they gobble up their food because they are not the ones who have to wait another fifteen minutes for their dinner.
And the owners of the food Jaehyun just smashed to the floor are firing off complaints as they storm out of the diner in annoyance.
As long as they don’t pressure the manager for his unemployment, he can live through this just like any other weekend. Jaehyun sighs and takes out his pad, ready to ask the new customers for their orders. He’s flushed, hands shaking from irritation and exhaustion and the plain old rush of anxiety.
God bless his monotonous life.
**
The clock ticks half past 9pm in sync with the head of the mop hitting the floor with a squelch. Jaehyun swings it left and right while Yuta scrubs the counter. He’s lucky enough to just get assigned for closing as a punishment. His friend, however, is held back by association. Looks like it’s wrong to lend a hand nowadays.
“It wasn’t even your fault. If I wouldn’t get thrown in jail for it I would have already dropkicked and body slammed that kid’s folks.”
“Let it go, it’s been hours—”
Yuta flails. “They didn’t even offer to cover half of the bill!”
“What did we expect? The customers are always right. And the kid is innocent. Who else are we going to blame? Me, and nothing but my lack of peace of mind.”
“Shut up.”
Jaehyun shakes his head, soaking the mop into the soapy water. “It’s cool. Not the first time and certainly not gonna be the last.”
“I hate this job.”
“Me too.” Someone walks by the diner, peering into the windows to watch them briefly. “But here we are mopping floors and scrubbing counters clean at 9:30, only to return at 7 the next day. We’ll keep coming to work because it pays the bills.”
“Does it now?”
He glares at Yuta half-heartedly before wringing the mop. Yuta is aware of his financial struggles. He can barely make ends meet at how unbelievably expensive the rent is when he’s already living in a claustrophobic one-bedroom apartment that looks more like a damp corrugated box. Not to mention his anxiety medication is not exactly cheap. Whenever he gets short of money after buying stuff outside his monthly budget range, he resorts to selling off what he can from his belongings that still have value.
Yuta flicks a clean toothpick that hits him on the cheek. “You up for a drink after?”
“I’m knackered.” Physically and mentally.
“But it’s Friday! Don’t tell me you’re gonna be cooped up in your bird cage for the whole weekend.”
“That’s the plan.”
“Are you writing again?”
“I’m always writing.”
“How’s the play going?”
Jaehyun shoots the other a brief glance, mopping underneath a table—the table of that cursed family. He gives a nice kick for good measure. “Still a play. Still a play in papers, still yet to see the light of day.”
“Make a song out of that kid,” Yuta suggests with a silly grin as he leans against the counter. “You’re good at that. You can make a song out of literally anything.”
“Tch. You overestimate me. But eh, I don’t want to. Nothing about today is worth writing.”
Jaehyun is a waiter at a diner, and an independent composer slash lyricist slash playwright. Although there can’t be much about those if he’s been writing the same play for the past seven years, been composing songs that both major and minor record labels reject before listening to. It’s a torture to not have a wealthy backer. Nobody wants to support real, raw talent coming from scraps.
“What’s the play about again?”
“Sci-Fi and Dystopia,” he says, feeling a small surge of pride. “About a girl who got stranded in a parallel universe, finding love in it but she knows it’s not the right world for her, she’s not right for that world. If she stays, she’ll die. If she leaves, she’ll lose all the memories that made life worth living.”
“That’s dope but really deep.”
And so unlike the new musicals. Jaehyun wants to be original. He wants to give all of his blood, sweat and tears for this dream play to come true.
He dunks the mop back into the bucket and rests an arm on it. “I’ll let you read it. Can you sing?”
“You mean you haven’t heard me belt those notes yet? Whenever I cleaned the toilet in the past six months?”
His jaw drops. “That was you? I didn’t even realize…”
“Who did you think it was, the cook?” Yuta snorts and rinses the rug in the sink. “I can even sight read. So if that play finally breathes, call me.”
“I need to hear you hit those notes first. Sing and I’ll cast you.”
But first things first—will it ever happen? Will Jaehyun’s play ever be performed on stage? He dispels the questions. It will. It will be performed and it will find its home on a stage. On many stages. He knows because he wants it to happen. It’s the right thing to do—to want to make it happen.
The cooks who will be the first to come in tomorrow have their own key to the diner so Jaehyun doesn’t have to worry about rising like he’s going to war. He double checks the locks before walking down the street, clutching the strap of his backpack. His apartment is twenty minutes away by bus but he prefers not taking any public transportation to save up.
He looks up and catches the moon peeking out of a cloud. There aren’t many stars tonight but it doesn’t make the sky any less beautiful. His characters would be looking up at the same moon from two different worlds, wondering about the lives they don’t have.
Unlike most main characters, Chaera is not based on the writer. He believes that if he portrays himself on a fictional character, it will not be any different from others. It won’t be special. Jaehyun isn’t one of a kind. He’s just one of the billions of people with an ambitious dream. He knows he’s dreaming too high for someone who doesn’t have money, but he didn’t even choose to love musicals. Musicals chose him. He fell in love with it when he saw his first one during a school trip. Since then, Jaehyun has loved nothing other than writing. His mind is filled with tunes and dialogues, so much that he fears waking up one day only to hear deafening silence.
His feet take him down the street, and pause in front of a small local theater. The doors are open even without a show. And against his better judgment, even though he should be on his way home, Jaehyun comes in.
There’s a janitor sweeping the floors in between the empty seats. The place is eerily quiet. Hollow. Jaehyun halts in the middle of the room as he gazes towards the stage, picturing himself in the middle of his cast at the end of the 10th showing of Up and Down: Worlds Away.
Will he be delivering a moving speech or simply cry his heart out? Nevertheless it’s going to be a monumental event in his life. To receive an applause, to gain a standing ovation, to be acknowledged by Korean musical icons.
He must be neck-deep into his reverie because he doesn’t notice that someone is actually on stage until the janitor tells him to get out of the way.
“Sorry.”
Jaehyun steps aside but doesn’t leave the theater. The person on stage is dancing. Dancing quite magnificently, if he’s honest. There’s no music but he bets that the man is listening to a song in his head, his eyes closed as he moves like water. Phenomenal, Jaehyun muses, completely mesmerized. This dancer must be an expert, a professional. His stunts are executed without a hint of hesitation as though he’s been dancing the same routine all his life. And he’s unquestionably beautiful.
The janitor scoffs at him. Jaehyun should be going now. Not wanting to disturb the man on stage, he does his best to leave quietly. But the gods are against him tonight. He accidentally steps on the janitor’s foot, causing the poor custodian to squeak in pain and surprise. “Oh, shit—”
“That’s it! Get out of here! Both of you! You’re not even supposed to be here!”
“I’m sorry!” Throwing his hands, Jaehyun grunts and makes his way out of the theater.
He has only taken a few steps far from the doors when somebody calls for him. “Wait! Excuse me—”
It’s the dancer, handing him something. “Y-your hankie! You dropped it!”
Jaehyun takes the cloth slowly, keeping his eyes on the beautiful man. “Thank you…”
“No biggie.” The man smiles and it makes him look even more captivating. Jaehyun notices he’s a few inches shorter. “Are you from here?”
The question amuses him. “Uh, yeah. Just dropped by to see—whatever was to be seen.”
“Bet it disappointed you.”
“No, not at all. You were amazing.”
The other man’s smile gets even more breath-taking. Or maybe Jaehyun’s suffering from an unknown sickness caused by this man’s gorgeousness.
“Thank you. I moved here last week with my sister. We’re from Daegu. Just wanna start anew, I suppose.”
“I’m not sure if this is the perfect place to do that.”
“Just because you’ve been here far longer doesn’t mean you can tell everybody that Busanjin has nothing to offer them.” The man chuckles, extending a hand. “I’m Taeyong.”
Jaehyun doesn’t know why he’s making friends with a stranger out of the blue but said stranger is doing something that is making his heart skip a beat.
Before he even knows it, he’s shaking the other’s hand. “I’m Jaehyun. Nice to meet you.”
He hides the disappointment when Taeyong immediately withdraws his hand. “So…you were watching me.”
Is that a flirtatious tone he’s hearing? Jaehyun can’t be too sure. He hasn’t done this in ages. “Enough to say you were amazing, yes.”
“You know stuff about theater? Performing arts?”
“A little bit.”
Taeyong smirks, lighting a cigarette. “Something tells me you’re lying.”
He looks around the nearly empty street with a shrug. “We’re complete strangers. You can’t possibly be able to tell whether or not I’m lying.”
“That’s why we need to get to know each other, right?”
Right. Taeyong is definitely flirting with him. And Jaehyun has no reason to not flirt back. “Do we?”
“Only if you want to. I’m single. Are you?”
Jaehyun laughs, running a hand through his hair. He’s never met someone this bold. “Is that what this is about?”
Taeyong takes a deep hit of the cigarette, the base of his throat concaving. “You took the handkerchief even when you know it’s not yours because you want to spend more time with me. Was I not pretty up there?”
“You were enchanting.”
“I don’t dance anymore. I mean, I quit. And I can tell that you want more of that story. So what do you say?” Taeyong flicks the stick and watches the ashes fall to the top of his shoe. “Show me around Busanjin tomorrow? I’m not starting my new job ‘til Monday.”
Needless to say, he exchanges numbers with Taeyong. What’s the harm? Taeyong is attractive and Jaehyun thinks he’d enjoy dating. Especially since they obviously share a common interest.
“I was supposed to be doing something tomorrow.”
“Do it next time, then. You got a date to entertain. Um, lunch time? My treat because I asked you out.”
“Sure. Where do I meet you, though?”
“In front of the theater.” Taeyong smiles and pockets his free hand, waving the one with a cigarette pinched between his fingers as he walks the opposite direction.
Jaehyun’s heart is pounding but not from anxiety. He’s astonished, and excited that something this great has found its way to him. Who would’ve thought?
He watches Taeyong until the latter is out of his sight before walking home. Finally, there’s something good to look forward to.
One year later.
Arms full of alcohol and junk food bags, Jaehyun kicks his door. “Open up!”
The booming party music floods out as Yuta opens the door for him, taking the drinks. “Jesus—I told you I’d get it! It’s your party!”
He closes the door behind him and walks into the merry commotion. Around ten people litter his tiny living room, singing and drinking along to the music. Some of them are from work, the rest are the cast of his play.
Jaehyun organized (not really) an impromptu party to celebrate Up and Down: Worlds Away being short-listed by the workshop. He had signed up for it six months ago, hoping to better himself and now he’s fighting against three other plays for a spot in Daehakro, a prominent performing arts festival likened to “off-Broadway.”
Whoever will be chosen by the workshop will be Busan’s representative.
“Anyone wants more? Get smashed before we return to reality tomorrow?!”
Yuta playfully shoves him. “Don’t get too drunk! Can’t fucking sing if you can’t even fucking stand—”
“You don’t need to worry about that, do you?”
“Asshole,” Yuta says before laughing and pouring more drinks into their cups.
Jaehyun let Yuta sight read one of the songs he composed and immediately cast him for the play. The man’s got a soothing voice but not powerful enough to land a bigger role so he’s one of the two supporting characters, but he thinks Yuta is genuinely a great performer.
**
Exiting the bathroom, Taeyong dodges a guy scurrying into the toilet to possibly throw up. He crumples the tissue and dunks it in the bin underneath the sink that’s right next to the front door, before taking a half-filled plastic cup of Coke from Yuta. He takes a whiff of it, just in case the other just took it from someone’s hand, and tips his head back, watching Jaehyun fondly while his boyfriend jumps on the couch to sing his heart out to Miley Cyrus’ Party in the USA.
“Where did he get the money for that,” he asks Yuta, eyeing the drinks.
“Certainly not from me.”
“He can’t afford this, can he?”
“Disciplining him is your job.” Yuta grins and joins the others in dancing, howling like a lunatic as the chorus comes up.
Jaehyun trips on the couch and knocks his keyboard. Wincing, Taeyong crosses the cramped living room to right it and chuckles as Jaehyun lands a wet smooch on his cheek.
“Thank you, baby, I love you—”
“You’re tipsy.”
“I’m not.” Jaehyun exchanges the microphone for a red cup. “Want some of this? This is strong as hell.”
Somebody whose name Taeyong already forgot hits him on the back with their elbow, too engrossed in singing drunkenly to dignify him with a sorry. “No, thank you. I need to be at work early tomorrow.” Smiling, he downs his Coke and hands the cup to Jaehyun before pulling away.
“Where are you going?”
“Rooftop. Need a smoke.”
“Alright.”
Taeyong kisses him on the lips and escapes the chaos. It’s a pretty chilly evening and being on the rooftop makes it worse. Still he leans against the wall and lights a stick, and it hasn’t even been a minute when Jaehyun stumbles through the door, positively intoxicated.
“You said you’re not tipsy.”
“Okay, maybe I am. But just a little bit, though. Mostly I’m reeling from…from disbelief.”
Taeyong accepts the hug from behind, closing his eyes briefly just to feel Jaehyun’s presence. “Congratulations.”
The head nuzzling his neck shakes in disagreement. “Not yet. Too early.”
“Claim it now. You’re the most dedicated playwright I know. Alive, at least. You’re gonna get it.”
“How do you know?”
Taeyong observes the little buildings before them and the lights flickering from a distance, puffing out smoke. “I just know.”
“Be serious…”
“Because it’s right for you. It’s meant to be.”
Jaehyun’s breath is hot against his skin. “What if I don’t pass the evaluation?”
“Now there’s no room for doubts, babe. You’re confident, aren’t you? You knew you’d make me fall in love with you. What’s winning a spot in Daehakro?”
“But that’s different.”
He flicks the ash and noses on Jaehyun’s head. He doesn’t care if the smell of smoke clings to his boyfriend’s hair. “How is it any different?”
Jaehyun, thankfully, doesn’t hit him when he pulls his head out of its hiding to look at him. “Those are two different things. They’re incomparable. Right from the start, I knew you’d be mine.”
“So arrogant.” But it lights a fire in Taeyong’s heart. He smiles, kissing Jaehyun’s chin.
The wind blows, making Jaehyun tighten his arms around Taeyong for more warmth. He brushes the younger’s hair gently, reminiscing the day Taeyong said yes to being his boyfriend.
It was only three months since the first date. They didn’t even go to a lot of dates in the first place considering his long hours at the diner. Then at night, and on the weekends, he worked on the play.
But Taeyong still craved him, didn’t mind that he was always stressed and anxious or how he doesn’t really have much in his pockets.
“I love you.”
Taeyong says it back, glancing at the door. “Where did you get the money for the party?”
“I sold some of the DVDs I have.”
“They cost that much?”
“Mm.”
Taeyong turns to him, breath smelling faintly of smoke. “But you love those musicals. We watched them on your TV for our little dates.”
He shrugs and rests his chin on Taeyong’s shoulder again. “It was time to say goodbye anyway.”
“There’s no saying goodbye for you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m getting my paycheck from the diner.”
“But that’s for the rent. And the water. What about the electricity?”
Jaehyun groans, earning a giggle from the other and a pat on his head.
A plane flies over them, drawing a line of thin clouds on its wake. “Jaehyun, I have a lot of thoughts about the future.”
“The future is a gigantic vision.”
“And I can see it. My part of the future. Our future. Don’t you wanna see what I see?” Taeyong’s lips stretch into a soft smile. “I see us living in a bigger house.”
He raises a brow. “You mean you’re finally moving in with me?”
“Sure. As long as it’s not here. Your place is too small and your stuff barely even fit. And then…and then I don’t know. We will just live more comfortably, I guess. Just the two of us. There’s a bunch of shit we need to work on to get to the future, though. Just like—”
Jaehyun doesn’t want to hear anything about that future. That part of the future is not his priority. “That’s far away, babe. Let’s not talk about it right now? Tonight is for celebrating my chance to get to Daehakro.”
“…It doesn’t seem too far away when I think about it.”
“Too far away,” he reiterates. “Too big a future for my mind.” Jaehyun presses the side of his face against Taeyong’s as he squeezes the other’s waist, and begins to hum a tune he picked up from the whistling wind.
“Alright,” Taeyong says with a smile albeit sadly, a smile that Jaehyun doesn’t see. “Next time, then.”
“Next time.”
“I miss you.” Taeyong means more than he says, messages that Jaehyun can’t currently decipher in his inebriated state.
“I miss you more.”
He knows that Taeyong wants to ask if he really does, but Jaehyun’s got no time for this. He’s got a big competition to prepare for, and Taeyong can wait for a little bit more. Taeyong will always be there anyway. When he gets the spot to Daehakro, they will have more time to talk about that future.
It won’t be impolite to drop by to visit Jaehyun unannounced, will it? They’re boyfriends. Taeyong misses him terribly. He wouldn’t be this needy if Jaehyun didn’t abruptly cancel their monthly date last week. Plus they haven’t been talking properly. Their texts are short and the calls are the same since Jaehyun has fully immersed himself in working on the play.
Carrying a bag of Chinese takeaway, Taeyong knocks on the door and waits. He hears the muffled keyboard from inside, then Jaehyun must have slammed his hands on the keys to produce that sudden, jarring sound. Sighing, Taeyong takes out his key to the apartment. He never lets himself in without knocking first especially in times like this when Jaehyun is anxious and doesn’t appreciate getting startled.
His boyfriend is hunched over the keyboard, posture bent from stress. Jaehyun scribbles on the notebook one second, presses a few keys the next, writes again and then erases whatever he wrote, murmuring unintelligibly to himself.
Taeyong quietly shuts the door behind him as he looks around the apartment in its utter disorder. The trash bin almost overflows, unwashed dishes pile in the sink, yet to be laundered clothes fill the basket in the bathroom, and crumpled papers litter the floor of the living room. He’s horrified. Taeyong puts the takeaway down the center table and turns off the muted TV.
“Jaehyun?”
“Mm?”
“When did you last clean up?”
Jaehyun murmurs again, his hand quivering as he hastily writes on the notebook, leg bouncing restlessly.
“Fuck.”
Knowing he can’t talk to the other right now when Jaehyun wants nothing to do but write a song, Taeyong takes it upon himself to turn the apartment to a more decent shape. He picks up the papers and takes out the trash, washes the dishes, and arranges the strewn magazines, putting them on the shelf where he sees the unopened power disconnection notice.
After washing his hands, Taeyong sits on the couch and opens the takeaway bag. Jaehyun pulls on his hair.
“God fucking dammit.”
“What’s going on?”
Jaehyun exasperatedly puts the pencil down, glaring at the notebook. “It’s the fucking workshop. My advisor found an issue with the play. Said there must be a second song for the climax, just for the main character to sing. A solo.”
“And the problem is?”
“And the problem is I can’t fucking write one. I just—” Jaehyun looks pained as he closes the notebook. “My head is blank. I can’t fucking write a single line that will fit the story best. And the full rehearsal is about to begin.”
Taeyong watches the other man leave his seat by the keyboard to grab a small, white bottle from the cupboard above the sink, dry swallowing two pills. He’s still shaking, tapping his foot impatiently and clenching his jaw, but as much as Taeyong wants to tell him to relax, he can’t. His sister has anxiety. It’s not something they can just switch on and off.
He taps the space next to him. “Come sit with me.”
Jaehyun looks at him for a few seconds and sighs before obeying. “I haven’t eaten yet.”
“Figured that. So I brought us some food…and I wanted to see you since we couldn’t go on a date.”
“Sorry…”
“It’s fine,” he takes the second box out of the bag and hands it to Jaehyun. “I understand how gruelling it is to make a play.”
“It can’t be this hard when I’ve been working on it for the past eight years, right?”
“A masterpiece doesn’t become a masterpiece on the day you decide it will be. Maybe you just need more sleep. More rest. Take a walk outside and look around you. Don’t stay here. You won’t get inspired in your apartment.”
Jaehyun breaks the chopsticks. “I’ll have you know this whole play was born out of our small house in Andong.”
Taeyong nods, mixing his food. “How’s your mother?”
The other man simply shrugs as he chews a mouthful of fried noodles, his leg to cease its restless bouncing.
Distracted by the movement, Taeyong presses down on Jaehyun’s knee. “Did you call her?”
“She’s not asking for me.”
“That’s not what I asked—”
“Don’t mind it, alright? Don’t mind her. She’s fine back home. I called her last month and she told me not to worry about her.”
But as far as Taeyong knows, Jaehyun’s mother is old and alone. “Okay. Just wanna know if you’re checking up on her since I can’t do that to my own. Don’t have breathing parents to call.” Then he remembers the disconnection notice. “There’s an opening at the store. They’re accepting part-time, so if you want—” His boyfriend is already shaking his head. “You don’t want to? So…you’ve got enough to pay for that?”
Halting his eating, Jaehyun follows his line of sight and hastily snatches the notice from the shelf, tossing it behind the keyboard. “I’ve got it covered.”
Taeyong doesn’t hear the excuse over the sound of Jaehyun’s lie. “Jaehyun…I just want to help. Sooner or later, you won’t have much to sell to pay for everything. You can try working on the weekends just to, you know, earn more. It can’t hurt to get another job.”
“Yes, it can. The weekend is the only time I can work on my play and see the cast. The weekend is for the workshop. If I take on another job, I won’t have much time for the musical and I can’t afford to stall and lag behind, Taeyong. I’m 30. If I don’t make it this year, then I won’t make it ever.”
“Who said that? 30 is just a number. It’s nothing—”
“It’s everything to me. It means finishing my play and debuting in Daehakro. Lots of younger writers are already out there having their plays performed in a bigger theater, but where am I? I’m still trying to write a song that won’t cooperate with me. My play is still incomplete.”
“But…but what about—”
Jaehyun snaps, putting down his food. “What about what? There’s nothing else to think about! I told you I got it covered, didn’t I? Relax. This isn’t even your problem anyway.”
That stings. Taeyong takes his hand back from Jaehyun’s knee and hangs his head low, pushing his food around. “Okay. I’m sorry. I just really want to help you.”
His sadness takes Jaehyun out of his own frustration, and Taeyong bites his lip as the other man pulls him in for a hug and kiss his forehead.
“Sorry, baby. I’m just…I’m so stressed. And I’m scared that I can’t do it.”
Taeyong puts his food aside as he lets Jaehyun embrace him, sighing. “You can do it, okay? You’re so talented. You’re a genius.” And then impulsively, he forgets about eating as he climbs his boyfriend’s lap, wrapping both arms around Jaehyun’s neck.
He makes it better for Jaehyun through the best way he can. With kisses, with touches, with whispers and gasps. Taeyong bites down Jaehyun’s lip and revels in the deep moan he ears.
“I applied for a job—”
“Mhm?” Jaehyun grips his waist, peppering kisses down the side of his neck.
Taeyong gulps as the bruising hold leaves a burning sensation on his body. “A dance teaching job. In Japan—”
“Ahuh?”
“And I’m thinking of—of taking it—”
Jaehyun pauses from sucking the spot below his ear and looks at him.
“What…?”
“Japan is too far away.”
“Like the future?”
“Like the future.” Jaehyun slips his hands underneath his shirt, rubbing his waist sensually. “It can wait, baby. Japan is too far away. Let’s talk about it later. After the workshop.”
“But I gotta—”
For the third time since coming over, his boyfriend cuts him off. Jaehyun brings him down for another kiss, nibbling on his lip before taking him to the bedroom.
Taeyong forgets about the job. He forgets about Jaehyun raising his voice at him. He forgets about the food, and the anxiety still radiating off his boyfriend. He can just ask Jaehyun again. Right now, Jaehyun wants something else.
At the workshop, standing next to the pianist as the cast rehearses one of the songs, Jaehyun notes the parts they need to fix on the actors’ tone and pronunciation. He pulls a stool close and sits on it, scribbling on the sheet music.
“Jaehyun,” he looks up at his advisor. “Do you have a song for Mina already?”
Mina is the actress playing Chaera, the one that holds the key to Jaehyun debuting in Daehakro. He sighs, rubbing tiredness out of his eyes. “I’m working on it.”
His advisor crosses his arms. “Let me see what you already have.”
“It’s at home.” It’s not even at home because he hasn’t even thought of a line to make the song.
“Jaehyun, Mina is a talented actress and singer. She can perfect a song in just a few hours but let’s not test that. Make sure to finish it soon, please? The pre-elimination round is in two weeks and important musicians will be there. You could be performing this play in Daehakro. And personally, I’m rooting for you.”
“…Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me.”
“And it will mean a lot to everyone if you come up with a song for Mina, soon.”
Jaehyun nods, promising to finish the song as soon as possible. He tells the pianist where they need to change some notes, shortly glancing at Mina who’s talking to a fellow actor.
His phone buzzes with his mother’s name on the screen. Jaehyun walks away from everyone before picking up. “Mom.”
“Jaehyun, you haven’t called. It’s been two months. I don’t know what’s happening to my son.”
“I’m doing great,” he says, tone clipped. “Surviving on my own, so.”
“Can’t you come home for a day?”
“I invited you to the pre-elimination so we’ll see each other by then. And I’m so busy right now, mom. You know how crucial this is to me. I can’t squeeze anything in between my schedule.”
“…Is that so? I just miss my son. Eat well, then. Don’t get sick.”
“You too, mom. Take care of yourself.”
Jaehyun looks back at the cast as the song restarts. He needs to focus on one thing and one thing only. Daehakro is not a trivial matter. Everything else can wait.
Road accidents in South Korea are so prevalent that it has become infamous, but nobody saw it coming when Yuta joined the count. He was flung off his bike by a speeding taxi and broke his legs. It devastated the cast as he needs to be hospitalized indefinitely. And it stressed Jaehyun out both as a friend and as the director of the play. They lost an actor. But since Yuta has a minor role, his place was easily filled in by another member of the workshop.
Jaehyun looks up from his still blank notebook to check the time. Another hour has passed with him merely staring at the piece of paper and holding the pencil, waiting for it to generate words. All he’s done was write, erase, write, erase. Whatever line he thinks of is followed by none or the next one just doesn’t hit him right. Like his words don’t come from the heart. Slouching in his chair, he pounds a fist down the keys, and is struck with discordant sounds.
Taeyong hugs his knees as he watches the TV, already immune to Jaehyun’s bouts of irritation. “Why don’t you take a break?”
“I don’t need a break.”
“Yes, you do.” Snatching the pencil from him, Taeyong plays deaf to his whining. “It’s been three days since Yuta got hospitalized and you haven’t visited him yet.”
He snorts. “Because I’m busy.”
“I can see that. But while you haven’t thought of a new song yet, you might want to check up on him? He’s your friend…and he was one of your cast. He’ll appreciate knowing you haven’t discarded him yet.”
Jaehyun’s brows furrow as he meets Taeyong’s gaze. “I don’t like how that sounds.”
“Then you should take a shower so we can go to the hospital. I told you,” Taeyong pulls him off his chair and takes him to the bathroom, grabbing his towel on the way, “a breath of fresh air and a nice walk might help. Come on. Yuta’s probably wondering why you haven’t showed up yet.”
“Alright, alright. Shower with me?”
His cringe pouting unfortunately doesn’t work.
**
Yuta shares the room with another patient, their beds separated by a thick blue curtain. His legs, wrapped in a cast are elevated but the few shallow scratches on his face that are still quite fresh are uncovered.
“The girls won’t be ogling you if you look like this.”
“Fuck you. This is your first time visiting me after the accident and that’s what comes out of your cursed mouth? Aren’t you gonna ask what happened to my legs, what they’re gonna do with it, if I can walk again?”
Jaehyun grins, evading Taeyong’s teasing punch. “So what are the answers?”
“Taeyong,” Yuta groans from the bed, “why are you still dating this apathetic fuck?”
“He’s good in bed.”
“Jesus. You both gross me out.”
“Don’t be homophobic, dude. Jesus won’t heal you if he knew what you think of the gays.” Jaehyun gets serious. “So what’s gonna happen now…?”
“You’re lucky I just took some pain reliever ‘cause it fucking hurts. As you already know, I broke my legs. They’ll confirm one of these days if I need urgent surgery but I pretty sure do. And then I would have to sign up for physical therapy sessions so I can walk normally again. It’ll take a while.”
“But you will walk again, right?”
Yuta laughs. “It’d take more than a road accident to damage me beyond repair.”
Jaehyun smiles, patting his friend’s hand. He looks around the room as his boyfriend takes over the conversation, before allowing his gaze to land on Yuta’s IV drip.
Watching the droplets of transparent fluid, he simultaneously listens to the monotonous beeping of the other’s patient’s monitor. Together with the dripping, it creates an odd rhythm. Jaehyun’s finger begins to tap on his leg as he anticipates the sound, a smile slowly settling on his face.
**
Taeyong notices Jaehyun’s brighter countenance as they leave the hospital. His boyfriend has been tapping his hands on the front of his thighs, humming a tune he’s never heard before. “What song is that?”
“No title yet. I just made it up.”
“…Like, right now? Then you can compose again?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Can you use that for the musical?”
Jaehyun clicks his tongue, obviously annoyed from the constant interruption. “Definitely not. It’s kind of upbeat and I need something gloomy and heart-wrenching and breath-stopping.”
“Alright. How did you come up with it?”
“In Yuta’s room. Got the beat from the monitor and the IV drip.” Jaehyun grins at him. “Crazy, right?”
His boyfriend bobs his head to the song his mind just birthed, murmuring new lyrics.
Taeyong scrunches his nose in distaste. “That’s quite insensitive, to be honest. To make art out of Yuta’s suffering.”
“Isn’t this your idea, though? For me to go out and find inspiration in my surroundings? Well, I’m doing that right now and it’s working. But it’s not working quite right. I could probably use these sudden spurts of inspiration to help me squeeze out more creative juices for the play. Write new songs until I find the one that suits it.”
“Then you need something dramatic.” They walk side by side in comfortable silence while Jaehyun happily hums the same tune over and over again. Taeyong fights the urge to fish a stick of cigarette from his pocket. “Can we talk about it now? The job I applied for?”
He receives vague gestures as response, which he eventually deciphers as Jaehyun being unable to talk about it at the moment, or else he’ll forget the entire melody. His boyfriend must be so eager to write because Jaehyun walks faster, nearly colliding against a pregnant woman.
Taeyong lags a bit, dejected. “Jaehyun!” He calls the other, flashing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll go back home. Need to help my sister do the groceries.”
“…Alright. See you later?”
He waves, but Jaehyun is already walking again.
Absentmindedly snacking on a bowl of popcorn, Taeyong scrolls through some celebrity’s Instagram feed. His sister then steps in, carrying a basket of freshly washed clothes. “Let me help!” He puts his phone and food away and drops to the floor next to her, scooping half of the clothes into his lap.
“What’s up?”
He looks at his sister in confusion, folding one of his shirts. “What do you mean?”
“What’s with the long face since this morning?”
Taeyong bites his lip as he contemplates telling her the truth. “Your boyfriend owns a bakery, right? And he’s the baker, too. It means he wakes up at ungodly hours of the morning, closes up late at night. And he does it every single day.”
She nods, unsure of what he’s hinting at.
“Yet you still find time for each other.”
“Sometimes, he leaves the bakery to his staff if we really want to see each other. And we text frequently even if he’s at work. Why?”
Taeyong sucks on his teeth, putting the folded shirt next to him. “It’s Jaehyun. He’s…I mean, I get it. He works long hours at the diner during weekdays and then he goes to the workshop on the weekend. If he doesn’t have to, he’s making songs the whole day. What’s two minutes of taking a break to text me, right? Just so I know what he’s doing. Your boyfriend can do it. Theater and baking may be two completely different things but they’re both time consuming. Yet your boyfriend has no problems sparing you a few minutes.”
His sister stops folding her clothes, eyeing him seriously. “Is Jaehyun not talking to you? You were just with him yesterday.”
“But he’s barely there. He’s always mentally miles away. And he’s been miles away from me for a while now. You get it? He’s physically there but his mind is somewhere else. It’s always in that musical and I can’t blame him. He loves what he’s doing. To see his art be performed on stage is his greatest dream and I like that he knows what he wants to do because I believe in him.”
Taeyong sighs, sagging. “It’s just that…I think I’m being pushed aside. He barely listens to me. If he wants to talk, then he’ll talk about himself. The workshop doesn’t even pay him so I wanted him to take up a part-time job to get some extra cash but he doesn’t want to because it’ll interfere with the play. It’s making him more anxious than ever. I’ve seen him pop a pill more than eat actual food. Sometimes…sometimes it just gets harder. It’s like he doesn’t want to fix himself.”
“If he’s not putting effort into your relationship and doesn’t treat you as importantly as you do him, then all you gotta do is use your legs and walk out. Save yourself from the headache.”
“I don’t think it’s my head that’ll be hurting if I listened to you, though.”
“But he won’t even listen to you. Is this about the job offer?” Taeyong looks away as his sister raises a brow. “You need to give them an answer soon, Taeyong. A lot others want that opportunity.”
“I know. But he told me to wait until after the pre-elimination.”
His sister scoffs, folding again. “He’s not the boss of you, Taeyong. And if he doesn’t want to do something as simple as hearing you out, then just do what you think is right. This is for your future.”
It’s a future that Taeyong doesn’t want to think about alone. He adds more folded clothes to his growing stack before making up his mind, pushing himself off the floor. “I’ll go see him.”
“Fine. Don’t stay out too late, but if you do then just go home with him.”
**
He doesn’t see Jaehyun when he comes to the diner. It’s not even 8pm yet. “Um, where’s Jaehyun?”
The cashier instantly recognizes him. They’ve hung out there a few times before and he was introduced to all of the staff. That was how he got close to Yuta, too. “Oh, he already clocked out at 5.”
“Really?”
“Said he has somewhere to be. The manager let him since he’s never been absent.”
Frowning, Taeyong wonders where his boyfriend could be. He thanks the girl and walks out of the diner, texting Jaehyun. No replies after ten minutes so he goes to the only place Jaehyun would cut work hours for.
The workshop is a fifteen minute walking distance from the diner. Taeyong gets in and climbs to the second floor since nobody’s downstairs to ask for his purpose of visit. “Excuse me,” he approaches a young woman in a blouse and pleated skirt. “Is Jeong Jaehyun here?”
She points him towards the room at the end of the hallway. Taeyong thanks her then heads over there, hearing the singing voices coming from inside the room. Quietly he enters, seeing Jaehyun talking to an older man and waves at him.
His boyfriend’s eyes widen.
Mouthing inaudibly, Taeyong asks if they can talk.
Jaehyun makes a slashing motion to his neck. Unavailable. The man he’s talking to must have asked who Taeyong is because he reads the word ‘boyfriend’ form on Jaehyun’s lips.
“We’re in the middle of something,” Jaehyun mouths back, apologetic.
At least he looks sorry. Taeyong doesn’t stay to watch the actors rehearse.
**
Gray smoke clouds before him as he blows out the nicotine. Taeyong stands by the exit, a foot propped on the wall he’s resting against.
The doors fling open as Jaehyun walks out, doing a double take on him. “Taeyong—you’re still here?”
It’s clear that Jaehyun didn’t expect him to still be there after an hour. “I really need to talk to you about the job.”
He pushes himself off the wall and they walk down the street. Jaehyun looks at him as he pockets his hands, brows slightly furrowed. “It’s going to be in Japan, you say? Well…what do you want me to do? Pack up and leave?”
“I’m not asking you that, but we have to meet halfway about this. They’re waiting for my decision.”
Jaehyun shakes his head and seeing him do that everytime he wants to talk about his job is starting to get into Taeyong’s nerves. “I can’t think about this. Not right now.”
“Why not?”
“I just can’t, Taeyong.”
“Then when can we actually discuss everything that entails my accepting the offer?”
“When I can finally think of anything else other than my own problems, how about that?”
Taeyong drops the cigarette and steps on it, crushing it with his foot before catching up to his boyfriend. He’s about to call Jaehyun out for being so dismissive, when a mother and her son storm out of their house. The woman beats her son with a slipper, scolding him for not doing his homework and purposely failing his test.
“Good god—hey.” He frowns up at Jaehyun after bumping into him. The other man silently watches the commotion as if entranced. “What are you doing?”
“Shh.” Openly staring, Jaehyun raises a hand and moves his fingers according to the boy’s yelp and shriek after the slipper hits his bum. His eyes follow the two even as they return to their house, gaze glued to the closed door.
If Jaehyun has no time to be a proper boyfriend, then Taeyong has no time for this madness of his. Are all musicians this peculiar? Gravely displeased by his boyfriend’s behavior, Taeyong gets himself out of there.
“This has potential. It’s—it’s harrowing. Like the cry of a bleak—Taeyong…?” Jaehyun looks around, and fishes out his phone as it pings with a text.
From Taeyong, informing him he’s going home and telling him goodnight. Jaehyun sighs and wishes him a good night’s sleep, adding a heart emoji at the end.
Then he continues walking, humming to the echo of the boy’s cries and his mother’s tirade.
Pre-elimination is in two days and Jaehyun, for the love of God and all His angels, still hasn’t written a single verse. Even with all the random songs that he had composed. They’re all useless. Nothing fits the play like a glove. The whole cast is on the edge of their seats, especially Mina. She reassured him that she could perform the song on the day itself, but of course, that’s what they are avoiding—for things to assemble at the last minute.
What’s worse is his power finally got snipped. He literally doesn’t have electricity at the moment while willing his pencil to start writing, and not even the old batteries for his table lamp are working. A candle provides light in his apartment, and it makes him feel so pitiful and infuriated at the same time. He’d begged the landlord not to cut it off, that he’d pay with whatever he has right now, but the offices are already closed. Tomorrow, his landlord said. They will put the lights back on.
Erasing the stupid line on his notebook, his phone rings. Taeyong’s calling. He’s been calling for the past ten minutes and Jaehyun cannot concentrate on two things at once. His leg bounces restlessly, the pressure of getting into Daehakro manifesting physically.
Jaehyun grabs a handful of his hair in frustration before picking up the call to keep the ringing from grating in his ears. “What is it?”
“Can you please open up? I forgot my spare keys at home.”
“…I’m not home.”
“Where are you?”
He glances at the locked door, waiting for Taeyong to knock. “I’m—”
“You’re home. Your windows are open and I can see your head from here.”
Perplexed, he peeks out the window and grimaces as he sees Taeyong standing by the lamp post, frowning up at him. “Shit.”
“Yeah, shit. Why is it so dark there? Jaehyun—did you not pay?”
“Listen—”
“I’m coming up there and you’ll open the door for me.”
“Fuck,” he curses under his breath as Taeyong hangs up. Jaehyun picks up the pencil again, staring at the notebook as he wrings his brain for ideas, until the knocks come. He can’t avoid Taeyong now.
“What the hell happened?” Taeyong asks him as soon as he opens the door, and goes back to his seat.
“What do you think? Taeyong, listen. I need to write a song and I’ll appreciate it if you keep it down for me for a while.”
The younger man approaches him. “Keeping what down? I see you’re not even writing a single thing there.”
He scoffs, pulling the notebook away from Taeyong’s prying gaze. “Don’t I know that?”
Silence settles in the apartment momentarily as he hunches over the keyboard and glares at the empty page of his notebook. Taeyong’s gaze burns the back of his head.
“…Jaehyun. I know you’re busy right now but I don’t know how else to talk to you about the job if you’re not replying to my texts and won’t even pick up my calls.”
“Please, Taeyong. I’m begging you. Not tonight.”
His boyfriend turns him around, and it seems that his frustration has spread towards Taeyong as well. “Then when? After the workshop?”
“Yes, because that’s what I told you before and I really don’t understand why you cannot wait—”
“Because I need the both of us to make the decision—”
“What do you need me for? You’re the one who applied for that job. You want that job, not me. Please, I’ve got a day left to make a song for Chaera—”
“It’s always that musical!” Taeyong’s outburst startles him. This argument has been a ticking time bomb, and Jaehyun has been postponing its detonation. “It’s always about you! What about my needs? What about the things I wanna talk about with you? Are they not important? Don’t I deserve a minute of your time?”
His anxiety shoots through the roof.
“Why, because you’re the artist and I’m just the boyfriend?”
“That’s not—”
Taeyong doesn’t allow him to make more excuses. “That’s what this is! You just want to focus on yourself! What about me?” His voice trembles, gaze glassy with unshed tears. “Haven’t you noticed—haven’t you noticed that I haven’t been happy? Jaehyun, you’re pushing me away! It’s like I’m not even a part of your life anymore!”
“That’s not true! You know that’s not true…”
“I know enough to say it’s true. What’s going on with you? You’re—you’re so lazy, you don’t even take care of yourself, you don’t give a shit about your mother or your friend who’s at the hospital because you literally dedicate your everything to this play. What if it doesn’t work? What happens after that? Will you look at us again? Will you look at me again?”
Jaehyun yanks his hair, glowering at the keyboard. “Stop being dramatic.”
His boyfriend paces the dark living room, sniffling. “I’m not being dramatic, Jaehyun. And—and stop being so goddamn insensitive, okay? Stop writing songs about other people’s pain. You don’t know who they are or what they’re really going through—”
“Stop.”
“No, you need to stop and reevaluate yourself—”
“Stop! I fucking said stop!” Jaehyun’s anger roars through the whole apartment. “Don’t you understand what this musical means to me? It means my whole life! And I can’t think of things that won’t help me make all of it come true! Not my mother, not anybody, not even you!”
Taeyong blinks in disbelief, scoffing. “Oh yeah? You think I can’t help you? Have you forgotten I worked in theater?”
“You know nothing about theater or performing. The only thing you know about is quitting it.”
“I quit it to make money! I need to live! And you won’t get it because you don’t wanna do it!”
“Seriously?” Jaehyun scoffs, glaring at the other. “Choosing money over art?”
“Art is fucking expensive, Jaehyun! And ironically, there’s no money in it!”
“I’m not listening to a quitter.” He shakes his head dismissively. Jaehyun plops on the chair and grips the notebook, staring at his boyfriend whose eyes are getting shinier by the second. And he knows he’s hurting Taeyong, but he doesn’t really know what to do. When put on the spot, his anxiety gets the best of him, and all the pent-up emotions release themselves in anger and aggression.
Jaehyun cards a hand through his hair, shoulders deflating. “So you want the job. And it’s too far away. What do you—what do you even want me to do…?”
“I guess I just want you to tell me not to go.”
He sighs, rubbing his face. “Of course I don’t want you to go.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
“Shhh.” Leaving his seat, Jaehyun walks up to the other to pull Taeyong in a hug, kissing the side of his head. “I don’t want you to go, okay?”
With a tear rolling down his face, Taeyong submits into the hug and wraps his arms around Jaehyun tightly, burying his face onto Jaehyun’s shoulder.
And then he feels the light tapping of Jaehyun’s fingers on his back. He shoves Jaehyun away, eyes wide in incredulity. “Oh my God—you’re thinking of turning this into a song?!”
Jaehyun stares as if unseeing, his fingers still moving as an influx of tunes floods his head. “This is—this is it—”
Hot tears stream down Taeyong’s disgusted visage. “I’m not your fucking project!”
The door slams even before Jaehyun can comprehend what happened. When he checks the hallway it’s already empty, and Taeyong doesn’t turn around at each call of his name through the window.
Jaehyun paces the room, angry at himself. He wants to go after Taeyong but all the ideas are surging into him now. If he doesn’t complete the song soon, he might lose it.
Promising to redeem himself to Taeyong later, he sits down and grabs the pencil to scribble lines after lines after lines, his gaze gleaming with hope.
In just four hours, Jaehyun finished Chaera’s song. The play is complete. His musical is ready for tomorrow. As Mina reviews the song, his advisor gives him a thumbs up from the other side of the room and Jaehyun swells with pride and joy. Nothing will go wrong tomorrow, and he has a feeling that the decision will be unanimous. Up and Down: Worlds Away will represent Busan in Daehakro.
And once it happens, it’s just a step closer to a wider recognition.
Jaehyun steps away from the cast to check his phone. He’s been texting Taeyong, calling him but everything goes either unread or rejected. He doesn’t know if Taeyong would open the door if he comes over, so he better ask for permission first.
He presses the call button next to Taeyong’s name, waiting through the several rings. He’s about to hang up after the 20th ring, when it gets answered. “Taeyong—”
“It’s his sister. He’s in the bathroom.”
“Oh. Hello. Um, did he not go to work?”
“Too depressed to get out of bed.”
Jaehyun winces in guilt. “I—I know he already told you what happened and I’m really, really sorry. I want to explain and apologize, take it all back—”
“My brother won’t talk to you.”
“I know. But…but tomorrow is the pre-elimination and I reserved a seat for him…”
“…I’ll tell him you called. Can’t promise he’ll be there, though.”
“That’s enough. Thank you—”
“And Jaehyun?”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck you.”
Beep, beep. Jaehyun looks at his phone, chuckling emptily. “I deserve that, don’t I?”
The pianist taps him hard on the back, grinning. “Yes, you do! Congratulations!”
The only evidence that will give away Jaehyun’s silent anxiety attack is the blushing of his skin. Apart from that, he can act like he’s not experiencing shortness of breath and palpitation. He’d already taken his medication so it should take effect soon. People are gradually filling the hall to see his musical, filling out the limited seats.
Heads of the workshop are present, sat at the front row. Jaehyun sees everyone he expected to see, and even Yuta who is yet to have his knee surgery is there in his wheelchair.
Taeyong’s seat remains vacant. There are only five minutes left before he has to introduce the play.
Jaehyun is approaching his advisor when the doors open. “…Mom?”
The old woman smiles at the sight of him, opening her arms for a warm hug. “You mentioned it to me once. I didn’t forget.”
More guilt takes home in Jaehyun’s chest. Returning her smile with a hesitant one, he leads her to the chair meant for him at the back of the audience, next to Taeyong’s.
“Don’t be scared, alright?” His mother squeezes his hand. “Have you taken your medicine?”
“Earlier.” Jaehyun appreciates the tight grip. He can’t dissociate now. “I don’t want to take another one.”
“Where is Taeyong?”
“…He’ll be here in a minute. Probably just running late. He’ll sit next to you.”
After a kiss on her forehead, Jaehyun finally goes to his advisor for a last minute reminder. Then the doors open again, revealing someone he’d only seen in his DVDs before.
“Fuck. That’s Junsang Bahk.”
Bile threatens to rise up his throat. Jaehyun takes a few deep breaths, rooted to his spot as he stares in astonishment at the legendary composer now sitting next to the workshop heads.
“Go, Jaehyun. We can’t keep these people waiting.”
“But there are still two minutes left.” Taeyong is running late—
“Better to be early. This will affect your evaluation.”
“Shit. Alright, alright.” Composing himself, Jaehyun mentally pats his back before taking his spot in front, smiling at everyone.
“Hello, I’m Jeong Jaehyun. I have worked on Up and Down: Worlds Away for eight years, and finally, it’s ready to be seen by the world. This play is about fighting a war that many don’t understand, and fighting for what we think is right for us. Please enjoy.”
He goes to sit next to his mother, ignoring her gaze as the lights dim.
“Will you get paid for this…?”
Jaehyun shuts his eyes. This is why he doesn’t like talking to her. He leans in to whisper just as the play officially begins. “I will. If I get a spot in Daehakro.”
**
Chaera, in her tattered clothing, claims the center of the stage. But when she opens her mouth to sing, Jaehyun doesn’t see her. He doesn’t see the hall nor the audience’s approving nods, but Taeyong crying in the middle of his pathetic apartment.
When he played the song on the keyboard, he was hit with a painful realization. That he’s been taking Taeyong for granted, he’s been taking advantage of Taeyong’s love for him. Because he knew that Taeyong would always have his back.
But he’s not here and even though they’re clapping at the conclusion of the musical, he’s falling apart. He feels incomplete. He feels cold and lonely and abandoned. Seeing his project of eight years in its ultimate form doesn’t make him feel as accomplished as predicted.
**
The evaluation would take long so they were all advised to go home for the meantime. Jaehyun won’t be able to breathe outside so he opts out of drinking with the cast, pacing nonstop in his apartment.
Any minute now, the result will be out. And he’s going to bust a vein from overthinking the longer he waits. Jaehyun tugs on his hair anxiously, glancing at the bottle of pills and resisting the temptation of ingesting more than he should. He also doesn’t dare look at his phone lest he calls Taeyong and begs for comfort.
At last, his advisor rings him. Jaehyun trips over himself in his haste to pick it up. “H-hello?”
“Jaehyun! Everybody loved it! You already know. They’d told you before you left. Just wanted to remind you.”
Letting out a breath of relief, he sits down and smiles even though the other can’t see. “Thank you, sir. That’s all I’m hoping for. Is there…”
“…Well, I have the scores right now. Jaehyun, you are a wonderful composer and writer. There is so much incredible potential in you that I haven’t seen in a while. And I would really love to watch your work on grand stages someday.”
Dread settles in his guts. Something is amiss in the tone of his advisor. Jaehyun swallows, gripping his phone tightly. “…Did I get in?”
“They loved it. Don’t forget that. However, they felt as though it was a little bit pretentious. And not aligned with what Daehakro wants to show this year.”
“Not aligned with—what does that even mean? Art has no limitation, sir. It doesn’t have standards. Sir, I worked on this play for eight years—”
“You ranked second. Just short of 5 points.”
His eyes sting. Jaehyun looks outside and at the darkening sky, lips quivering. “Alright. Fuck—okay. So—so what do I have to do now?”
“You go write the next one.”
Eight years had been wasted just like that. Now, people are simply expecting him to move on and begin from zero?
“I’ll get real with you, Jaehyun. Junsang Bahk had said this himself during the evaluation. Next time, he said, you should write what you know. Write what you know is right for you.”
Shaking, Jaehyun ends the call and lets his phone drop as he slouches despondently and stares at the empty shelf, where his and Taeyong’s picture is taped. He closes his eyes as his advisor’s words replay in his mind, fingers tapping on the side of his thigh.
An excruciating, dreary melody. Is this right for him now?
Gentle knocks stir him out of sleep. Jaehyun slowly regains understanding of where he is. In the same position on the couch where he’d mourned his loss. He checks his phone for the time and turns on the light before dragging himself to the door.
Pretentious.
Just because they didn’t share the same perception?
Taeyong greets him as he opens the door. “Hey— come in—”
“No need. I’m not staying long. I just…” Chewing on his lip, Taeyong holds his gaze and sighs. “I’m sorry for not coming to see the play.”
“…It’s okay. I understand why. But—but you’re here now and that’s…this is good. I’m sorry, Taeyong, about the other night. I wasn’t in a good place.”
The younger man nods, glancing past his shoulder. “…How did it go?”
Jaehyun shrugs as he leans against the doorway. “They don’t want it. They loved it but they don’t want it and I don’t understand why, but they’re expecting me to start writing a new one. I can’t just…I can’t just write a new one. I’ve been stuck in the same play since I was 22.”
“I was 20 that time.”
Smiling sadly, Jaehyun shakes his head. He won’t cry. He can’t. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t wanna waste more years of my life to fail yet again.”
“Remember what I told you? A masterpiece doesn’t become a masterpiece on the day you decide it will be. Don’t give up.”
“It’s not for me. They told me to write something I know, as if I wrote Up and Down blindly.”
Taeyong stuffs a hand in his jacket’s pocket. Jaehyun doesn’t need to look to know it’s a pack of cigs. But the other doesn’t light a stick. “What was the song about? The one you made out of me.”
“…Do you really wanna know?”
“I don’t mind.”
“It was…it was about choosing between fear and love.”
Taeyong stares back at him silently, before severing the contact as he toes on the dirt on the floor. “Well, I had to choose. But fear was not in my options. I am not scared of anything, Jaehyun. Whatever the outcome of my decision is, I will accept it. And I’m always ready for it. I’m taking the job. I’m going to Japan.”
“…For how long?”
“For good.”
He doesn’t even feel it coming. Jaehyun blinks through the hot tears as he takes Taeyong’s hand. “Don’t go.”
“I don’t wanna stay in this life, Jaehyun. I wanted a future with you but you didn’t want it. You pushed it at the very back because it wasn’t important to you. You didn’t even have to choose because you’ve always been with writing. Your heart has always been there and I just realized I don’t even know where I am with you. In you. There’s finally something worthwhile for me to do and I don’t wanna be held back.”
“Taeyong, please. I just lost the competition. Don’t do this to me. I need you—”
“I’ll lose the chance to improve myself if I stay. And I’m not staying to fix you.” Taeyong withdraws his hand and takes something out of his pocket. Keys. He hands them to Jaehyun with a small smile, all of him just as shattered. “Goodbye, Jaehyun.”
Taeyong walks away, never looking back, and Jaehyun remains where he is.
In just a single day he lost the two precious things in his life. Because they’re not right for him. Be that as it may, he knows he will never move on. He will never love any other dream, he will never love any other man.
And he will keep asking himself, why do we always want the things that are not meant for us?