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“what are you doing up here?” vox’s voice is scared and full of fear the first time they meet, and ike has to refrain from snapping at him, because the roof is his place and vox is intruding. but he turns around, a smile on his face.
“looking for inspiration for a song,” it’s half true – the sound his bones will make landing on the ground, each crack and twist, will sound like music. it’ll be his last song. vox’s eyes narrow, golden and pink, and he drops the walkman in his hands (who still uses cassette tapes?).
he takes a few tentative steps closer, then pulls ike down without waiting for permission. “what, inspiration on how to kill yourself?” ike’s eyes widen. vox’s voice is full of anger now, and ike shrinks beneath his gaze. “kind of stupid, if you ask me.”
“what would you know?” ike mutters. if he looks up, he’ll see the tvs and radios all spewing the news about his apparent bullying scandal – the nation’s darling become the nation’s scorn. vox scoffs, dragging him by the wrist back from the roof’s edge. ike’s heart settles back in its chest from where it was, choking him in his throat.
“more than you, apparently.” vox’s voice is scornful and maybe even a little disappointed. it’s ike’s turn to narrow his eyes and scoff. vox raises an eyebrow. he pops his earbuds back into his ear and points at ike, somewhat like a shounen manga protagonist. “i’ll show you!”
ike cracks a smile for the first time in a few weeks. “doubtful, but i’ll play along.” his smile lights up the sky with how pretty it is, and ike’s bittersweet smile paints the sky in shades of blue and grey.
-
the first place vox takes him is the nearby cat cafe in the myeongdong district.
“were you, you know, up there for inspiration, then?” he asks between sips of coffee. surprised, ike looks up from the fur of an extremely soft norwegian forest cat (who looks rather annoyed when ike stops petting her), before looking back down, embarrassed. vox reaches out a hand, dragging it up and down ike’s field of vision.
“no,” he replies quietly. vox flicks the pause button on his walkman, then again, on and off, on and off while he stares, like he’s waiting for ike to say something. ike shrugs. he thinks it’s obvious enough why he was up there, but maybe vox is waiting for some kind of verbal confirmation. on and off, on and off, before he clicks the fast forward button once and holds it, fast-forwarding the tape until it ends and silence sits between the two of them. “why do you still use a walkman?” he asks vox.
vox lifts the appliance in his hand. it’s blue, chipped and old, although it has a certain charm to it. it fits the other man’s strange aesthetic – appearing out of nowhere and disappearing just as mysteriously – to a T for some reason. “this?” he gestures to it. “huh. i just didn’t see the need to stream music when most of my favourites are on cassette tapes from when i was young.”
“you could get it for higher quality on streaming services, though,” ike points out. vox shakes his head. on and off, on and off, like he can’t stop pressing the buttons on the side. it’s driving ike a little nuts.
“it’s different,” is all vox says with a shrug. “not the same.”
“oh.” ike responds. the cat in his lap bites his fingers when he stops petting it. vox contents himself with stroking the fur of the maine coon that’s crawled onto his back and taken residence. ike’s coffee goes untouched.
-
the second place vox takes him is for a stroll around hannam-dong.
“why’d you bring us here?” ike complains a little. vox grins, pulling one of the earbuds out of his ear. there’s a different cassette in there today; it’s red when the other one was blue.
“just a hunch,” vox says. it’s a little too close of a hunch to be comfortable for ike – he’s spent quite a lot of time here. he owns an apartment here, actually, courtesy of the pay from his tours and releases. it’s a wonder vox hasn’t figured out who he is yet, actually. it’s a little refreshing.
they end up in another cafe, this time without the cats, and vox sips from an iced americano in his hand – despite the falling snow outside. ike sneezes, and his odd friend’s golden eyes shoot toward him in concern. a few seconds later, a warm white scarf is wrapped around his neck. “you’ll catch a cold,” he says.
ike buries his face into the soft material, watching vox drink for a few seconds before asking. “what did you want to prove to me, anyway?” on and off, on and off, vox presses the buttons on his walkman so much that ike wonders if he ever gets to listen to the music on the tape at all before it’s sped up or slowed down.
“i don’t know, what do you think?” it’s a little bit of an aggravating answer, but ike takes a sip from his hot chocolate, wondering.
“is this about the roof?” he asks. “i mean, you saw what i was about to do, and decided you’d stop me yourself?”
another mysterious smile, and vox seems to have finished his coffee. the brownies they bought sit untouched between the two of them, and ike picks one of them up, giving it an experimental bite. a little sweeter than he’d want them. not that he could eat them, anyway, what with his diet and all. “a bit about the roof, and a bit about some other things. what were you doing up there?”
there it is again, the question ike himself refuses to answer. truth be told, he’s not sure why he was up there, either. just a little voice in his head telling him to go to the roof and look for inspiration in the sound of bones cracking and blood squelching, painting the sidewalks and walls pretty shades of red not unlike the strands of vox’s hair. his grip around his hot chocolate tightens, and the lid flies off, spilling hot liquid on him.
“are you okay?” vox immediately asks, grabbing his hand. he rushes ike to the bathroom with no other words and runs his hand under cold water.
“i’m fine, i’m completely fine!” ike insists, yanking his hand away from vox. there’s an awkward air in the room as ike washes his hands by himself, cooling the burn and making sure it’s nothing serious. “give me a warning next time, why don’t you?” vox hums a little tune to himself as ike dries himself off.
“what are you listening to?” he asks, when they get back to their seats. outside, the snow flurries are leaving to reveal a blue sky. vox smiles – on and off, on and off, fast forward until the tapes end.
“radiohead,” he answers.
“oh.” ike says. he pays for the bill without a second thought and avoids the curious gazes when people see ike eveland with another man pulling his wrist through the nearby park. he’s alright. he’s alright.
-
the third place vox takes him is daecheon beach, when the stars are out and they’re not supposed to be there.
“this is illegal, you know.” ike watches vox’s hand on the walkman – the cassette inside is green today. how many of these does he have? does he switch them out every day? “if we get caught we’re going to be in trouble.”
“we won’t be,” vox says with a certainty that scares ike. he doesn’t deal in absolutes. a little voice in his head whispers mean things about him being a hypocrite because wasn’t he about to kill himse- he chooses to ignore that voice for the time being.
they sit down near the water, right where the wet sand meets the dry, ike makes shapes in the sand with his fingers, and vox builds a little sandcastle right next to his drawings, sticking a little tree branch in at the top. they have no flag, no battlements, and no soldiers, but the castle next to his haphazardly drawn circles and triangles feels oddly familiar and comforting to ike. like he’s on the beach with his family and he doesn’t have to worry about his next big scandal or his next music show.
“it’s nice,” he says, wistfully looking at the stars.
“when’s your birthday?” vox asks. ike looks at the other, leaned back on his arms and staring at the sky. his hair is so long it brushes the sand. he’ll have to wash that out. the walkman sits between them, playing music as they share vox’s earbuds.
“june.”
vox squints at the sky, seemingly looking for something. after a while, his face lights up. “it’s a good thing it’s february, then.” he grabs ike’s hand, nearly causing him to lose his balance, and traces the twins in the sky. “gemini,” he whispers. “they’re yours.”
“but there’s two of them,” ike responds. vox tilts his head, smiling. a new song has come up on the walkman. “can’t it be you and me?”
“if you want it to be,” vox says, voice sing-song, a playful aura in the tilt of his eyes.
“okay, it’s us then.” they’re silent for the next few minutes, the only noises the sounds of the ocean creeping nearer with the moon and the walkman rolling and rolling next to them. vox’s fingers twitch toward the buttons. ike watches him, fascinated. “is there a reason why you keep fast-forwarding the songs?” he asks out of nowhere. for the first time, vox looks surprised.
“it’s like life, isn’t it? you fast-forward, and you lose that time.” and his answer is so frank, like he took the gordian knot tying ike’s stomach in knots and cut it open, as simple as that. “you can never get it back.”
“cheesy,” ike comments. vox shrugs. “it’s not like you’re wrong, though,” he says afterward, quieter. vox closes his eyes and hums along to the song.
“what were you doing on the roof?”
ike nearly falls into the sand when vox asks. it’s been a few weeks since that incident. he’s been up there a few times, staring at the stars, sometimes imagining his body on the ground, split bones and cracked skull poking through his skin. he hasn’t been in public except for these excursions, anyway. he wonders if vox knows.
“i’ll tell you if you answer me this.”
vox looks at him. in the moonlight, his eyes look more brown than golden. “okay.”
“haven’t you heard anything? on the news? the internet? the tvs all over the places we’ve been to?” his voice breaks. he dreams of walking into the ocean and vanishing. he dreams of falling off a roof to the floor. he dreams of a knife at his wrists. vox’s arms hug himself as he pulls his legs in.
“no,” he replies honestly. the walkman fast forwards until the tape ends. now the only sounds are the ocean waves and their breathing. “or at least, if i did, i forgot.” he’ll have to rewind the tape now. ike wishes he would, so there would be something else other than this awkwardness between them. “no idea who you are or what you’ve done. just that you need someone.”
ike copies vox, tucking his legs under his arms. his shoes leave trails in the sand. vox’s feet are bare.
“i was up there to…” ike feels bile rising in the back of his throat. it’s so hard to say.
“to kill yourself, right?” vox asks.
he draws a blank for a few seconds, thinking of what to say. “you… you don’t pull any punches, do you?”
“truth be told, i knew what you were doing. this was the only thing i could think of to keep you from doing it.” ike’s throat is so constricted he wonders if it’s what choking on blood feels like. like if he’d thrown himself off the roof that day, this is what it would have felt like. now that he knows, he’d honestly prefer death.
“i’m an idol,” he admits. vox’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t say anything. high tide laps at their feet, but ike doesn’t care. “an idol with a very poor public image right now.” his stomach churns in knots. maybe he’ll throw up his intestines next. “bullying scandal. bad one. the public… well the public doesn’t like me very much right now.”
vox tilts his head. “is that the only reason, though?”
“well, no.” ike says this around the lump in his throat he’s sure is bloody innards. “i guess it’s less about the actual scandal and more about-” his voice breaks again. vox watches the waves with an indifferent expression before turning his gaze back on ike. “more about how the entire industry feels like… kagome.” the japanese slips out, as natural as anything. ike looks around to see if there’s anyone near them.
“you could just quit,” vox points out. the waves are brushing the denim of ike’s jeans now. vox looks rather unbothererd by the water surrounding them.
“your walkman’s getting wet,” ike says flatly. he stands, pulling vox up with him. the other man doesn’t protest the sudden change in topic, simply tilting his head and looking at ike like an owl its prey. it’s a little disconcerting.
“mmhm.” he hums. on and off, on and off, vox fast-forwards their time together until it’s at its end.