Chapter Text
Younghyun works as an occasional host on a student-run radio program at university. One of his responsibilities is making playlists for the air, where he adds popular songs, listener-submitted songs, and songs from his own playlist because he’s biased and doesn’t want to always listen to Korean idol pop.
Another thing he’s responsible for is, well, hosting. The radio station is interactive and readers can submit whatever they want, limited only by their imagination and small word count (thank goodness!). But honestly, a lot of the time the listeners treat the radio’s Listener Submission Segment (not officially nor cleverly named) as an advice segment. Kang Younghyun is not equipped to give out advice.
Still, he tries. And no matter how difficult, he does love doing it.
Younghyun reads out the first question carefully:
'How do I know if I'm in love?'
He sighs. This... is a very vague question...
"I think love is... natural," he rolls the words around on his tongue, tentative, unsure. "It’s human nature to love. To be in love is when... When you want nothing but the best for that person, and you love them for who they are, even when they're doing nothing." Younghyun professes, "That's what I imagine it feels like to be in love. You like them when they're doing something simple like sitting, or eating, or, or breathing... or doing something that's so natural that they don't even need to try for you to love them. You don’t need to think about it much either, it just happens, because it’s natural. I guess, if you like them when all they're doing is living… then maybe you're in love."
Younghyun becomes suddenly aware of the smile that found its way onto his face. He bites his lips inwardly, feeling embarrassed.
"Maybe I'm just a romanticist." He clears his throat. "I haven't had a girlfriend in a while, so please take this with a grain of salt, Listener-nim. As well as update us if you ever realize that you are in love!"
His eyes look over the listener submissions again. He searches for something a bit more serious, one that he thinks he can help with, even a little.
He reads aloud the next question:
'I've only been in college for 3 weeks and I'm really struggling. How do I get better?'
It’s a vague question, so much so that Younghyun could give a half-hearted answer of “manage your time wisely, don’t slack off,” etcetera, etcetera, and he could move on. But knowing that some people genuinely look to this segment for genuine advice… Younghyun would never want to take it lightly.
So, he goes to talk about his own college struggles and his experiences dealing with them: how he can never get enough sleep and how he utilizes the absence of naps; how having this much autonomy is new and how he sees the beauty in independence; and how his biggest one was trading passion for financial security– as well as coming to terms with it.
“What I mean is, don’t worry so much. If you’re still unsure, then remember; it hasn’t been that long since the semester started. It’s okay to take your time, and no one will fault you for not matching their pace.” Younghyun pauses. “But if they do, it’s okay to get violent.” He continues, “If you decide upper education isn’t for you, then that’s good too. Take your time to make meaningful decisions. At the end of the day, you will go to bed, and you will be alright. I wish you the best of luck, Listener-nim.”
Another submission comes in right at that moment.
He clears his throat. “Disclaimer, no, I am not inciting violence. I was joking, ha-ha-ha. ”
Listener submissions are anonymous so it's often that students' messages are vulnerable and help-seeking. Messages of the previous genre aren’t uncommon, but there are more lighthearted messages sent in. They’re dumb barely-adults after all, so Younghyun takes care to read the ones that reflect their dumb college youth.
‘KYH! Did you by any chance see the confession on the anonymous board? :)'
He clicks his tongue. "No no, I’m Young D right now. I don’t know what those initials mean. But, I did not read the post." He tilts his head curiously as he opens the anon board on the monitor. He can feel the ends of his mouth rising again. "Was it sweet? Was it an essay just like the last post? Or was… it..."
Younghyun finds it interesting how differently people express their love when done anonymously. Sometimes it's done from the heart, an attempt to extract and present each and every butterfly that's been fluttering within them. Other times it's still from the heart, but also from the hormones, in which it's often the most obscene piece of text you will ever read. Those usually violate the terms and conditions and those confessions are typically dedicated to Sungjin.
The most trending post right now, the most trending confession, falls under the former. It’s dated to three days ago. He notes, with the slight raise of his eyebrows, that the events of this one are startlingly familiar.
"I think this is the one… Oooh, it’s long. Everyday I get surprised that the discussion board doesn’t have a character limit." Younghyun clears his throat. His eyes find the words and he scrolls through the post, trying to pick through for the important parts for the air.
To the music major who sang during the freshman welcome dinner:
There’s something embarrassing about saying your name even when you don’t know mine, so I will continue to refer to you vaguely. after all I don’t doubt that people will find out from the header alone; anyone who went to the dinner would know who you are. but not who i am!!!!!!! <333333!!!!!!!!
I was sitting at one of the side booths and you were sitting at the center (rightfully so)! You were a bit reserved at the beginning, but the people around you liked you a lot so you got along well with everyone. It seemed like everyone seemed to gravitate towards you, but maybe that was just how I felt. There was something about you that made my eyes constantly focus on you. I would look away, drink, then look again. Was it because you were exactly my type? You’re very handsome. Every single little thing you did was attractive. It was horrible because you would never look back. yeah i drank a lot lol i had to step out for a bit
It must have been the beer that made you agree to sing because, like, you look very shy. Or is it just because you’re a music major and like singing? Do you like singing? I don’t knowwww you looked like you were forced to so I felt a little bad. BUT THEN????? THEN YOU OPENED YOUR MOUTH AND????? JESUS HIMSELF DESCENDED OMGGGG I STARTED HOLDING MY HANDS TOGETHER IN PRAYERRRR
Younghyun had to laugh away from the mic because he could not continue. He thinks he– was this the girl from outside the bar? The one he saw squatting outside talking about Sungjin’s friend on a call?
His eyes crinkle and his shoulders shake as he tries to stamp out his fit of laughter. “Ahh, ah my stomach… it hurts…”
IT WAS SOO ATTRACTIVEEEEEE HOW DID YOU SING LIKE THAT???? WHERE DID YOU PULL THAT OUT FROM BECAUS THT VOICE CAME FRM NOOOWHEREEE
yk when I heard you were a music major, I was kinda hoping you could sing. It was just a random idea but it happened. I’m glad I got to hear you sing. Thank you.
But the song that you chose to sing, it was a duet. I recognized it and I thought I could sing along with you, but I didn’t know the lyrics. I really wanted to. I thought it’d be a good chance to talk to you. but the song was in english. Why did you choose english?!?!?!?! you couldn’t have chosen got7 or something?? I was wondering if I should search up the lyrics on my phone or just listen to you sing.
but APPARENTLY stupid KYH and his canadian ass knew the song.
“– Hm?” He hums, startled. KYH quickly scans the words again, but nothing about the text changes. The English initials of his Korean name still litter the screen. He repeats with more fervor, “ Hmmmmmm?? My Canadian what now???”
so he sang the duet with you. the way that your eyes lit up when kyh started singing… It was so pretty. It's like i’ve never seen pure joy until that moment. that’s probably just the way you smile too. light and pure and bright.
Admittedly, maybe it was better that way. He was good. I guess. I heard that you’re close friends with a friend of kyh. You two are friends so it was probs more comforting for you, still being pressured to sing and stuff. You all sat together sometime after that and you looked even happier. You looked less tense, more comfortable.
I was happy to see you happy. I hope that happiness continues. I hope I get to hear you sing more because you look happy doing that too.
but also, like, cmon kyh. i hope the next taxi you take skips you (because you can’t drive)
There’s a few seconds of silence on air, a likely sin for radio. KYH holds a hand over his mouth in disbelief. There was absolutely no way for him to predict where that post was going. It feels like when you get on a bus, but accidentally take the one going the complete opposite way despite having the same bus number.
Also– friends? ‘More comforting?’ ‘Happier??’ Younghyun had never met Kim Wonpil prior to that night.
“... I think this person hates me. Is that why you guys wanted me to read this? What in the world am I supposed to say to this? Should I apologize?” He sing-songs annoyingly, adding an unnecessary vibrato at the end of his words. “Aw, but I really don’t regret it~ I really enjoy singing~ You wish that was you singing with our little music major~~” He taunts, “Also, I usually take the train to school and not a taxi, so you’re wrong, Listener-nim! I win! Again!!” He cackles evilly, making sure his purposefully enunciated ha-has are picked up by the mic.
“But I’ll admit: this confession post was very sincere. It was very honest, unfiltered, and straightforward. I can tell this person truly likes Won… the music major. Wanting to see him happy, wishing him further happiness… I think that this, too, is a form of love.”
He taps a finger on the tabletop, contemplating, then decides to add.
“So, how do you know you’re in love? If it’s selfless just like the author of this post, then I think it’s safe to say that you are.”
He closes out the segment with a satisfied sigh. He lets a few songs play, then reads out a few pieces of disheartening university news (one of the dining halls will be undergoing renovations and will be closed until next semester; it’s Younghyun’s favorite one, so he cries on the inside). At the end of the hour, he lists his wishes for his listeners– to work less and earn more– and signs off with a goodnight.
But somewhere, in the back of his mind, Younghyun wonders if Wonpil really was that happy when he sang with him that night.
After setting up the radio to have it play the playlist of songs it usually shuffles through for the night, Younghyun slings a backpack strap over his shoulder and steps out of the recording booth. He rounds a row of dusty shelves with records that would leave grime on your fingers if you were to swipe a palm across it, then makes his way towards the entrance. There’s a worker by the register, but they’re not friendly with each other enough; they only acknowledge each other with a nod (optional). He glances towards the little nook in the center of this vague semblance of a record store, where beanbags litter the floor messily around a short table and a worn couch. The place supplies instruments that are free to borrow and play in-store, but students don’t always return them properly. The coffee table always has something strewn across it, so it’s very unsurprising that a small notebook sits open at a corner beside an unreturned keyboard piano.
What is surprising is a certain someone mindnumbingly pressing a piano key, some random high note, with his left hand holding his chin and his eyebrows funnily creased. He sits at the same corner as the book and piano facing Younghyun and promptly stops pressing the key when Younghyun loudly rams his shoulder into one of the dusty shelves, making the records clack against each other and a cloud of dirt fall onto his bangs. They make eye contact through the dust.
“... Hi,” the word falls out clumsily.
A light of recognition flashes in the boy’s eyes at the sight of Younghyun holding his shoulder in pain. His mouth falls open.
“Hello,” Wonpil returns.
They stare awkwardly at each other, the first-year confused and Younghyun painfully embarrassed at himself. Absent-mindedly, Younghun rediscovers how round Sungjin’s friends' features are. Round eyes, round nose, and round lips.
“You…” His mouth goes round and his lips take the form of a circle, like an epiphany dawned upon him. “Ah… so it was you on the radio. Young D.”
Younghyun flusters despite himself. “Kang Younghyun, right now. At this moment.”
“Right,” Wonpil nods.
The second-year nods back. He unintentionally rushes the words out. “How did you know, though?”
He tilts his head. “Know what?”
“That it was me. On the radio.”
“Ah, Young D?” Younghyun gives a pursed lip smile. Wonpil chortles softly. “I mean, we’ve talked before. It was a while ago, but we still talked. But also when you signed off, you sang a little. I recognized your voice.”
“I sang?”
“A little.”
“What did I sing?”
“You sang the word ‘goodnight’ in English.”
“Ahh. How did I sing it?”
“What,” Wonpil quips, “am I supposed to sing it for you?”
“Yes,” Younghyun teases. “You’re a good singer.”
Wonpil looks away at that, his hands retreating from the tabletop to hold his ankles as he shyly sways side to side. “Oh. Well. You, too.” He chances a glance, and looks away again. “I remember your singing from that night the most.”
Younghyun holds onto those words.
“Really? Why is that?”
Wonpil looks back at him, pupils darting between both of his eyes. The words are on his lips. He hesitates and he tiptoes, “You… You’re just a very good singer. I liked it a lot that day. Your voice.”
“Thank you,” he smiles widely, acting shy as he tucks nothing behind his ear because his hair’s not nearly long enough.
Wonpil giggles at that. “But, also, it was very clearly us in that post. The music major, the singing, your initials… the slight disdain towards you…”
The business major deflates. He completely forgot about his initials. So it wasn’t just his voice that Wonpil recognized, but Younghyun’s literal name that was definitely mentioned more than once.
“So… you’re Canadian?” Wonpil asks with a light lilt to his voice.
Unbeknownst to him, he perks up. Younghyun steps in front of the shelves this time so that nothing is obstructing his view of the other. “I’m fully Korean, but I did my high school years in Toronto. I learned English then… which I think explains the disdain… for knowing English.”
“Ooooh, so you’re fluent in English?” In a voice painted with a thick accent and unfounded confidence, Wonpil interrogates, “‘I’m fine, thank you, and you?’”
Younghyun chokes out a laugh. He answers, in English and between breaths, “I’m good, thank you.” He shows off, excited and impulsively, “It’s cold out, but the weather’s really nice. It’s dark though, so be safe when you leave.” He thinks, devotes a single second of deliberation to that thought, and still says it. “And I’m really glad to have met you again.”
Predictably clueless, Wonpil stares at him with a blank smile. “What?”
He smiles back, asks in Korean, “What?”
Wonpil pouts, his bottom lip jutting out. “Maybe I should study more…”
Younghyun placates, “English is useful, but you can get by just fine without it.”
“Okay, I won’t study,” Wonpil decides with a shrug. They chuckle lightly, the ends of their lips turned upwards.
Younghyun nods his chin towards the object beside the piano. “Are you writing something?”
Wonpil glances down at his notebook, barely remembering it was there. “Oh, yeah. I was listening to your show and got an idea.” He waves a hand back and forth flippantly. “It's not fleshed out, just an idea. It’s more something that I could work off of.”
Younghyun hums inquisitively before moving closer. “Is it for a project?”
“Not school, no. Ah, it could be though.” He dismisses the thought with a shake of his head. “It’s a song idea! I write songs as a hobby. But my future classes will make me write some too…” He snaps his fingers cutely. “I'll recycle it. How efficient of me.”
The second-year lowers himself down carefully onto the beanbag beside the piano. He plops down with a grunt anyway.
“So you’re writing a song? What about?”
“The first question you answered on the radio, the one about love. That love should come naturally, loving someone as they are, and that it shouldn’t be complicated.” Younghyun stares at the round top of his head as Wonpil muses in a hushed voice. “I thought that we shared similar ideas. But then later you also said that love was selfless…” He circles a finger around that same word on the lined paper with his song, “... and I thought ‘wow, we have very similar ideas.’ ”
“Do we?” Younghyun wonders as he lays his head on crossed arms.
“I think so. I haven’t put much thought into it yet since I just thought about using it, but your idea of it is very pure. At the very least, I like your definition of it. I wanted to use it in a song.”
“Oh. Thank you,” Younghyun murmurs into the crook of his elbow.
He can hear the smile in his voice. “Thank you, too. For thinking that way, and for helping me. Indirectly.” He sighs lightly. “Inspiration never comes easily and writing’s been hard lately.”
Younghyun hums. He worries his lip, biting the skin, before he confesses. “But, you know, I think it’s idealistic for love to be… like that. I think it should be like that, but not that it's possible.”
Wonpil lifts his head. Younghyun cowers at his eyes and the sad wrinkle in his brows.
“Really?”
He frantically clarifies, “Possible, maybe. But definitely rare. There's not many people like that out there.”
Wonpil stays quiet. Did that make the mood too serious? Younghyun's wishes he could reverse time, back to when Wonpil was marveling at his English, maybe even back to the confession post– or maybe he should straight up leave – when a soft piano sound tickles his ears.
Younghyun watches the gears turn in the boy’s head through how some of his fingers thrum on his lap underneath the coffee table and on the keys, and how his head starts to bob to some metronome.
“I'll try to show you then. That there's at least one person who thinks that way. Because, if there's someone like that so close to you, then who's to say there's not thousands more?” His left hand plays a light tune on the piano keys; his right picks up a pen. A determined look crosses his face as he declares, “I like to believe that a love like that is possible in a world like ours, and I want you to know that it is.”
Random notes filter into Younghyun’s ears, tentative, soft, and experimental, the way some notes repeat and how Wonpil clearly backtracks to rewrite a melody. It’s fascinating how he works, and it’s fascinating how Younghyun’s presence is entirely forgotten.
Wonpil said he was writing a song. Younghyun’s eyes find the open notebook, with lines that are softly inked and ignored, as random words are written at random places, splayed across a page. It reads multiple lines, ideas that he presumably wanted to write as lyrics:
To be of help to you.
Make you smile again.
Comfort.
It’s strange.
With a few organized bullet points underneath it and a dozen unorganized scribbles around it, at the center of a page the blue ink reads four words:
‘When you love someone’
Younghyun isn't exactly a pessimistic person, but hearing Wonpil’s resolve to prove to him that something so innocent can be possible and real made him feel like one. He chews on his lip. How exactly did Wonpil plan to show it to him anyways? With a song? That’s what it sounded like anyway. Isn’t that a little cliche? If that wasn’t a little odd, it was made even more odd by the fact that the two have only talked on two separate occasions before Wonpil vowed to prove him wrong. Maybe he’s just competitive.
Younghyun sighs at the blank scene before him. Sungjin’s friend was absent, and the record store remained empty for the next few days he had to host the radio. Younghyun doesn't even know why Wonpil was at the store that day. His DJing slot is every other night– Monday, Wednesday, and Friday– but he doesn't see the first-year until the next Wednesday. He tells him just that.
“It's only been a week…” the first-year trails off.
“It gets lonely here…” the second-year lamely reasons.
He looks him up and down. Younghyun suddenly feels the urge to work out. Then Wonpil mutters, “You do seem like the type to get lonely…”
Younghyun narrows his eyes unseriously. “What?”
“Huh?” Wonpil looks away. Like he hasn’t committed a great offense. He turns back with a laugh. “Okay, but, why is that the first thing you say to me? No, ‘Hi’ or ‘Hello’ or ‘Oh? It’s you again?’ ”
Younghyun shyly shrugs his backpack straps higher onto his shoulders. “I’m sorry… about not greeting you. But I did kinda know you were already here.” He points at the evidence, “I heard the piano.”
Wonpil smacks the keyboard without hesitation. It makes a discordant sound in pain.
“This damn thing.”
Younghyun crosses his arms as he purses his lips in false authority. “Isn’t that a rental from the store?”
Wonpil looks between Younghyun and the piano, again and again, before deciding to blatantly lie to his face. “No? I brought this from my dorm?”
“... Really…” Younghyun pointedly squints at the tape taped to the side.
It reads: ‘FOR IN-STORE USE ONLY’
Wonpil makes direct eye contact with the navy blue masking tape, has the audacity to scrunch his eyebrows and mutter, “How did that get there…?”
He shakes his head. “Wow, you should be a theater major.”
“I have something to show you, if you don't mind.” Wonpil interrupts to change the topic from property damage.
Younghyun bounds over excitedly anyways, plopping onto the beanbag beside him, his long legs making it so they almost reach his neck when he sits down. He gets comfortable, crossing his arms above his knees and peering over.
“What is it?”
Wonpil breathes in. He sets his hands over the keys, his fingers splaying out like an ocean wave, and plays a melody that has Younghyun relaxing his shoulders. It’s clean and practiced. It’s soft and beautiful. It’s a pent up sigh, and it’s sleep after a long day. He likes it a lot.
Midway through the song, he grows curious and opens his eyes, unaware they had fallen shut. His gaze falls upon the curve of the pianist’s fingers, the cuffs of his cardigan, follows the light bouncing of his shoulders as he presses the keys, and Younghyun watches the seriousness in his expression. The furrow in his brows; the twitch of his nose; the occasional quirk of his lips. Younghyun buries a smile into the crook of his elbow.
Then all too suddenly, the music stops and Younghyun’s looking at Wonpil’s eyes, a really nice shade of brown, that look back at him.
“... Hi,” he says.
“Hello,” he responds.
“That… was really good,” Younghyun breathes.
Wonpil tilts his head. “Do you think?”
Younghyun nods eagerly. “Is this the same one you were working on last week? Have you been working on it? Since last week?”
“I have,” he shyly giggles. “It’s gentle sounding, isn’t it? Like, like it’s spring, you’re in a cafe, and the scent of watered flowers is there. You’re there, you might be people-watching, and it’s…” He simply smiles, front teeth over his bottom lip.
“... Lovely.” Younghyun finishes. He remembers that the melody did have him subconsciously romanticizing life, apparently by Wonpil’s own intention. Sitting by the window of a cafe, looking out into the world, reveling in the mundanity of humanity. Is this how he sees the world? So beautifully, so normally?
He holds the nape of his neck, looking down at his notebook. “All I have is the instrumental so far… I have a hard time writing lyrics.”
Younghyun looks at the scribbles, a semblance of a song. “So you have a hard time finding the words?”
He nods, serious. “Always. I would never be the first to confess.”
Younghyun coughs on something despite the dryness of his mouth. “S-So suddenly?” Wonpil gives a flat smile as he continues a big, exaggerated nod. “Where did that come from?”
“Was… was that not on topic?” He hesitates. “I just don’t think I would ever be able to say what I want to say…” he flips a hand in the air, “... in the correct…” he ends with a finger gun, “... way?” He slams that same hand onto the keyboard in a manner that contrasted his previous airy motions. “I don’t think I would be able to convey my feelings well enough for them to understand.”
“You think so?”
“It would be very nerve-wracking.”
Younghyun considers him for a brief moment. He’s talented, pretty, and interesting. Plus, there’s already at least one account of a girl falling in love with him from just seeing him at dinner and hearing him sing. The outcome is clear to see even with blind eyes.
“Who knows? Maybe you won’t ever have to confess.”
Wonpil turns his head to look at him, round eyes looking between Younghyun’s sharp ones, a clueless pout etched onto his face.
“Why?” Wonpil asks.
And so, obviously, Younghyun answers:
“Because someone will definitely confess to you first.”