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“If it is actually you are what you eat,” Said Quang Nam, as he squatted down next to An Huy, a cigarette burned half on his lips. “then am I considered a block of Marlboro?”
Ha An Huy, by all means, respected his elder as a universal consensus, but this type of conversation was always the reason why he wanted to punch Quang Nam in the face. “You’re not eating a whole cigarette, like eat eat, are you?”
“Well, no, but I inhale the smoke, so technically, it is still somewhat a way of eating.”
“Mate. Seriously. Give me a break for one minute.”
“Oh, but you know Shakespeare used to write like shall I compare thee for a burned cigarette? Thou art more deadly, like bullet ricochet…”
The thing was, apart from Quang Nam’s incredible talent as a young rising musician, he was even better at remixing poems into some contemporary satirical verses. Not that An Huy essentially hated that; he just found that right now was not the time to enjoy his brand new Sonnet as a whole.
They were shoulder to shoulder in the side garden of the campus; behind them, the loud music was still raving inside the main hall. Some students were strolling on the road nearby, most of them already intoxicated and maybe trying to seek some peacefulness like An Huy. Quang Nam’s butt almost touched the grass as he squatted, giving An Huy a very strong desire to kick at it so he could fall off. Unable to do so, he remorsefully tried to think about something else instead. The cool night breeze caressing his cheeks, the booze he had consumed in the past three hours, the mellow feeling softening his mind, leaving all of his mess unbothered for a while.
His mess.
Shit.
He exhaled, suddenly craving a smoke. Quang Nam, as if understanding what he was thinking right now, nudged his shoulder gently. “Don’t die yet. The night is still young, no?”
Oh, how he wished he could die. Easier said than done. He looked at the darkness that used to be the campus car park in the morning, thinking now he could empathise a bit with Bukowski or Márquez – life could be a menace sometimes. “Yeah, yeah. I just need some reason to justify my thoughts right now.”
“As in?”
“Murdering someone, maybe.”
He was not sure if Quang Nam wanted to help him find one, or just simply report him to the asylum, or both. Instead, the elder just sighed and finally took the cigarette out of his mouth. “You’re just bitter because you’re pathetic. It’s okay.”
“Shoving your dick inside ten asses per semester is as well, in case you don’t know.”
“And in every man I sleep with, I find some mad dogs of glory.” Quang Nam grinned. “If you need to get laid, just tell me. Or go back there on the stage and sing a song. I’m pretty sure a lot of people are willing to kneel at your voice.”
An Huy winced; of all topics he could talk with his friend right now, he definitely would not want to hear about singing. “I. Fuck it. No. For fuck’s sake, I might actually kill someone tonight and that one could be you.”
“Already dead baby.” Quang Nam sangsong as he stood up. “Now do you want to go back or still want to contemplate murdering? Choose wisely. One gives you seven hours of headache and one gives you seventy years in jail.”
As much as An Huy hated to go back, he found himself slowly standing up anyway, a part of his pants wetted as he had sat on the grass for so long. “Fine. But I’m not helping you drink anything if you lose some game.”
“Deal.”
When they headed back to the main hall, Saliva’s Click Click Boom was ravaging the atmosphere which was dyed in back and forth between reddish and purplish lights. An Huy could feel a thrumming vibration in the glass of water that he picked up, the water surface as well softly swinging. He hummed to the song, deciding not to stick to Quang Nam; instead, he found an empty corner near the stairs, and there he quietly chewed on the mess he promised himself not to worry about tonight.
Technically, it was originally not that of a mess mess. It started with a point, kind of similar to the Big Bang – that was how the universe was theoretically formed, then came Earth, the messy Earth – An Huy assumed maybe all messes in life had a first neat start like that. Then it grew into waves, filling him with disappointment and resentment. That email was still in his mailbox, one that he only read the short lines in the notification, not ready to open to read the rest; maybe An Huy would never open it anyway, one day if he was over it, he would just straightforwardly delete it permanently, once and for all freeing him from all of these ugly thoughts he was diving in his head right now.
That day was not today, unfortunately.
From: DaLab
To: haanhuy
An update about your application to DaLab
Dear Huy Ha,
Thank you for applying for our band’s vocalist position. We’re deeply impressed by your skill set and dedication to music. Unfortunately, after careful consideration…
An Huy heard someone swearing loudly.
When he looked up, he saw a stranger still cursing, a brown coloured drink in hand, his eyebrows furrowed so hard An Huy could see some faint wrinkles appearing on his forehead that were roughly rubbed by the other free hand. When he finished torturing the forehead, An Huy blinked at the reddened skin that was a bit darker than the rest of his face, clearly the foundation there was faded. The young man gave him a bashful smile, as if he was registering a visa to be here in An Huy’s space. “Hi. Can I stay here for a bit?”
The lad’s height was somewhat similar to An Huy’s, and there was the staircase above them, so An Huy guessed his poor head must have bumped into it when he tried to get in here. It was quite a good retreat space anyway, that was why he chose here to detach himself away far from the maddening crowd, and that was not even a Thomas Hardy joke. “Suit yourself.”
The man wordlessly nodded and leaned against the wall, trying to relax a little. The lights were still too dim, but An Huy could start making out some of his basic features. He was tall, his body hidden under an oversized white t-shirt and baggy sweatpants, beautiful chiseled jawline when he turned to the side, and seemingly he had no tattoos or piercings. His eyes were big and somehow blinking very fast, as if he was trying to hold back tears. But An Huy was very sure that his eyes were dry, dare he say even gleaming with relief. Maybe it was just out of habit. He was surprised that he himself cared about that so much.
The silence between them was awkward, and they had no choice but to endure it. It was until the song finally ended, and then came up another one. Just as An Huy realised it was Eenie Meenie by Sean Kingston and Justin Bieber, the guy next to him giggled softly.
“I requested that song.” He whispered, all too happy for a pop song that An Huy himself would definitely skip if his Spotify put it in his magic shuffle mode. “I haven’t heard it for a long time.”
He had nothing to say, honestly. So he tried to get away with a shrug. “Good for a party, I suppose.”
The guy’s lips still held the smile, which for some reason made An Huy really uneasy. Maybe because he was not a fan of Justin Bieber. Or Sean Kingston. Or pop music. Whatever. “I personally don’t like it. But you don’t have to like a song to hear it anyway.”
Never mind. An Huy raised one eyebrow. “Why do you listen to a song that you don’t like?”
“For some other non-music’s sake.” The guy replied. Now that the red and purple lights had gone down, An Huy could finally realise his hair was a soft blond colour. “Sometimes you associate a song with a memory. Or an event. Stuff like that. And when a song is played, you can recall them – could not be too clear, maybe you just want to reminisce about a feeling at that time. It helps with your memory.” He drank a bit, and immediately looked disgusted. “What the fuck.”
That earned an amused laugh from An Huy. Despite the embarrassment, the guy seemingly did not mind him at all. “You have some fond memories linked with this song?”
To his surprise, the guy shook his head. “Just want some nostalgia.”
Nonetheless, the crowd seemed to enjoy the song a lot; An Huy heard some shouting and singing along, and decided that maybe his company was not that bad. For a night that he had previously condemned to be terrible. He drank the rest of his water and said. “I’m Ha An Huy.”
To which the man replied. “Thai Le Minh Hieu.”
“What major are you in?”
“Marketing. But I hate that shit.” He carefully put the empty glass onto the floor. “I’m not into manipulating people to buy things. Maybe.”
“Understandable.” Said An Huy. His music major did require a basic Marketing subject, and his grade was so pathetic but for him getting As in other classes, it would definitely drag his GPA down. “I had one class of Marketing. Definitely not doing that shit again in my life.”
“Lucky you.” Minh Hieu rolled his eyes. “I have a Strategy planning class tomorrow, and I’m not looking forward to it I tell you for free.”
“Hopeless.” An Huy faked a sad head shake. “Completely hopeless.”
Minh Hieu shrugged. “What you do will never be what you want to do all the time.”
“Are you also double majoring in Philosophy as well?”
“Fuck it. I am dead with that Philosophy foundation class.” Minh Hieu’s face grimaced. “I only managed to pass it. Ain’t never see me doing that shit again in my life.”
For some reason, An Huy found the way Minh Hieu mimicked him a bit lovely. “Well, I wish you a career of working for Justin Bieber’s Marketing department then.”
Minh Hieu’s big eyes got even wider upon hearing that. “I’d rather jump off a bridge. For real.”
An Huy mulled over those words for a few minutes. “Yeah. I was thinking about that today. If one day you wanted to, meet me there.”
Maybe under the influence of the alcohol he had consumed, its mellow aftereffect had led him to open up a bit. Maybe that was why he let Minh Hieu step into his private space and throw that fucking Eenie meenie miney mo he swore to God he had closed the Youtube tab of that video at first time listening years ago. This time, Minh Hieu shifted; he looked more concerned now. Way too concerned for talking to a stranger. “And why is that?” He seemed to ponder what to say, as he spoke slowly, his voice quiet.
“Hey, no need to be serious.” An Huy smiled. “I failed an interview that I had expected a lot. You know.”
“Ah.” Minh Hieu’s beautiful face softened. His voice was sympathetic. “Happens to the best of us.”
An Huy was quite certain that applying for the vocalist position for Da Lab, the university and probably the whole country’s most famous band and failing did not happen to the best of his kind, but he reluctantly nodded anyway. “Yeah. I applied for Da Lab’s vocalist position. And I failed. Quite annoying, if you ask me.”
“Oh, really?” Minh Hieu’s face lit up. “Was that the audition they held as someone in their group left?”
“Yeah. Well, I practised a lot. And my friend who studied with them said that my style would definitely match their requirements. Turns out he scammed me.” It was Mai Quang Nam’s Cheshire smile and solid swear that his voice would fit into Da Lab’s music that An Huy built up so much hope for himself, that he could finally step out of amateur music and try mainstream. And in the end, he was here.
He did not blame Quang Nam, just after a scam joke and kicking him in the ass they were even. Maybe he was still bitter about it due to the fact that he lost. And he did not enjoy that feeling at all.
Minh Hieu blinked at him. There was some realisation dawning in those pretty eyes. “You study music?”
“Yeah. As the main major.”
“What is your other major then?”
“Despair management and failure sustainability.”
Minh Hieu cracked up at that. “No. What the fuck!” He finally gave up and sat on the floor, followed by An Huy, and he was still laughing while saying. “Sorry. I don’t want to laugh at your bad news, but man. On God.”
“No, don’t worry.” An Huy mumbled, at least satisfied that his sense of humour was still immune to his L today. “I’m honoured to make someone laugh for the night.”
Minh Hieu waited for the laugh to die down to finally manage to say something coherent. “I’ve always wanted to try something with music.” He admitted. “But I guess I’m not that talented. This school’s music department rejected my application.”
The way he said that as a matter of fact made An Huy curious. “Were you like… unhappy about that decision?”
“No.” He shook his head, all too cheerful. “It was bygone, Huy. Bygones be bygones. I’m not the type of person holding onto something unalterable, knowing that I’m not exactly good enough to change it anyway.”
An Huy’s brain traced those words carefully, as if studying a rare sample of humans. “But you don’t like where you’re right now.” He mumbled, suddenly thinking this conversation was no longer a casual one between strangers. “Is it a bit unfair to you?”
Maybe because all his life, he had little to none experience in defeat. He had always been good at singing, and it was all too easy for him: training his voice, choosing music as his career, getting accepted in university, and will probably become a professional singer once he graduated. Life was easier if it compromised on one’s talent. So this whole Da Lab’s rejection was such a fresh experience to him, almost like a wound he did not understand why it happened. And now there was Minh Hieu, who took defeat too easily to his wonder.
In response, Minh Hieu only tilted his head and curved up his lips into that smile again. An Huy at this time was pretty convinced that that smile was not by instinct; it was more like the man’s coping mechanism. “I will find another way somehow.”
That did not explain all the questions in An Huy’s mind right now, but he accepted that response in courtesy. They got quiet after those words, just listening to music and the white noise of people fooling around, as if this corner had become an echo chamber for both of them. An Huy did not understand why this idea suddenly came up, but it sounded nice, so he let it out. “You know us music majors have regular jam sessions?”
Minh Hieu, who was humming to the melody of the song played right now (Bad Friend by Rina Sawayama), jerked his head like he just got awakened from a dream. “Hm? Jam sessions?”
“Yeah, where we just, you know.” He threw his arm around awkwardly, trying to depict the event. “Playing random music. Sometimes we have themes, but most of the time we just go with the flow. If you’re interested, feel free to drop around. And throw my name. They’ll let you in.”
“Great. Thanks. That’s… great.” Minh Hieu stumbled, definitely not expecting that at all. “I’ll definitely visit. When is the next session anyway?”
“I’ll let you know once they announce.” An Huy replied as he held out his phone. “Mind giving me your number?”
He did not understand why he saw a faint blush on Minh Hieu’s cheeks, slyly hidden under the red lights, but he caught that without saying anything; the man quickly typed the number and handed the phone back to him, then rubbed the back of his head. “Thanks again.”
“No problem. Hope you don’t mind us losers there.”
“I’m no winner in life if you squint.” Minh Hieu stood up, then stooped again to pick up the empty glass on the floor, a smile on his face that somehow made An Huy feel much less irritated than he was hours before he knew who this beautiful man was. Fuck, he was indeed attractive. “You see, real recognise real.”
—
Ha An Huy began the new day with a groan.
Fuck everything, except himself, because he hated himself and did not fancy masturbation right now; his room was already filled with sunlight, he could feel that even though his eyes were still shut. Mai fucking Quang Nam was a morning person regardless he drank to death the night before, even so An Huy was sure he would crawl out of the coffin just to wake up at nine. Why did he decide to be Quang Nam’s housemate again?
“Look alive, sunshine.” He heard Quang Nam’s annoying voice right next to him, at the edge of the bed, unnecessarily loud. “I know you are awake. Get up.”
“Do you know that you’re a little shit?” An Huy got up, but he held his eyes closed still. “Fuck. My head. Has it exploded?”
“Unfortunately, no. Come on. We have some demos to figure out.”
Somehow to An Huy’s housemate, checking demos in the morning right after drinking for six hours yesterday was a brilliant idea. He scoffed as he kicked the blanket away. “You think I am still capable of brainstorming today? I have a storm in my brain now but it is killing the shit out of me.”
When he opened his eyes finally, he saw Quang Nam standing there by the bed, his arms folded at his chest, and that obnoxious Cheshire grin on his face already ruined An Huy’s rest of the day. “Does that storm come in the shape of a tall blond pretty bloke who you talked to yesterday at the party?”
An Huy almost choked. The desire to stay in bed lingered stronger than ever. “What are you talking about?”
The victorious wicked look on Quang Nam’s face right now spotted An Huy right away. “The bloke, An Huy. Who did you talk to yesterday after we went back?”
“You go fuck yourself.” An Huy declared as he got off the bed. “I need a smoke.”
“And he even made you want to smoke? Good. Even better if you do sad smoking.”
To which Quang Nam received another swearing before An Huy roughly shut the toilet door. The craving for cigarettes strengthened after he finished all morning rituals and dropped himself against the window next to Quang Nam, sober but his head still throbbing. It was already eleven, the sun was high in the cloudless sky, dropping some scorching light on his arms. Quang Nam had not started smoking yet, only took out the cigarette box as An Huy finally settled, obviously too eager to hear the story from yesterday. “Mate. You can’t leave me hanging like this.”
“What do you want me to say?” An Huy lit the cigarette and pulled it out of the window. The smoke danced in the air shortly before dissipating. “I met someone. We talked. Then we parted. End of story.”
Quang Nam looked so offended that An Huy had to try to stop himself from laughing. “What? That’s it? No mind-blowing sex? No wild French kissing? Nothing?”
“Sorry mate. Ain’t gay like you and your flings.”
“That’s so disappointing, your Creative Composition instructor will wipe your name out of next semester’s class if he gets to hear that. Come to think about it,” He mumbled. “it was you anyway. Damn.”
“That’s the poorest Eminem reference I’ve ever seen. You think your Creative Composition teacher will be otherwise to you? Where has all that creativity gone?”
“Sorry mate. Bursted it in someone’s ass last night.”
An Huy glared at him with a disgusted face. “You’re fucking hopeless, Mai Quang Nam.”
His housemate only shrugged, making the big glasses hang down his nose a bit. “That’s why we’re here, and Hell is empty.”
He put the smoke back to his lips and inhaled smoke, feeling its burning bitterness haunting inside his mouth, soothing the headache for a while. His thoughts drifted to Thai Le Minh Hieu, unconsciously; it was not like he intended to, but he kept going back to that image. Of the man with the silly smile on his handsome face, his eyes big and sparkling like smoky quartz. There was something endearing about his giggle, like he was not sure how to express himself at some points, so he just laughed it off instead. And he looked more delighted once getting the invitation to jam sessions from An Huy, like he finally got the chance to fit in somewhere.
Maybe Marketing major was that bad.
“Say, do you know when we will have the next jam session?”
Quang Nam popped his head up from the window frame at the question and nodded. “Yes. Also, come to think of it–”
“Quang Nam, for real, can we stop this Eminem joke right now–”
“Asshole, I’m not referring this time. I have some good news.”
An Huy gave his friend a doubtful look. “Last time you said that to me it was Da Lab’s recruitment.”
“Well, sorry about that. Those guys are chaotic. I told them about you beforehand, that you’re really good and as well might be who they’re looking for. The guy sharing the Music Production with me, what’s his name? Long? Yeah, he told me that okay we’ll take him, and then you came home and you told me they rejected you.”
“Through email.” He added.
“Through email. What the fuck is that corporate behaviour.” Quang Nam coughed, like he choked on his smoke for that. “Never mind. A door closes, then another one will open. Like this one I’m bringing to you now.”
“What, Da Lab suddenly realised they were being unreasonable and changed their mind?”
“Keep dreaming.” Quang Nam pouted. “Anyway, do you remember my ex-friends-with-benefits, Hoang Ton?”
An Huy felt like he was being pulled into a downward spiral that he was definitely not going to like whatsoever. “What do you think I am? Your nut job tracking device?”
“I fucking hope not, thanks a lot. He was like, what, my longest fling last summer?”
“So the good news you bring to me today is that he finally moved on from you, hence the ex? Send him my regards.”
“Alright, this time I forgive you because you’re a sore loser.” Quang Nam put the finished cigarette into the ashtray and shook his head. “I bumped into him yesterday. He’s in final year now. And no kidding mate, he is fucking good at making music. I’ll play you some of his works when we go to the studio. He’s strong in songwriting and arranging. I think he’s leaning towards R&B now? Anyway, yesterday he told me that he wanted to start a band and use it as his graduation project. And if everything goes well, he wants to pursue that band seriously. Like, you know, gigs and stuff. He asked me to join as the first member.”
“What’s the difference between the first and second one?”
“Well, you get to pick the second.” Quang Nam grinned. “Pikachu, I choose you.”
To be fair, although An Huy did not know who that Hoang Ton guy was, he would prefer the lad himself inviting him to this nightmare of a best friend. “I’ve never heard of friends with benefits doing music together before. Let alone exes.”
“We’re real men, Huy.” Quang Nam protested. “Who would mind one year ago he thrusted into me, like, very roughly, and gave me bruises…”
“See? You’re trying to make me your nut job tracker now!”
“The thing was,” His housemate emphasised with a drop in his voice tone. “both he and I did not mind it. That’s why some music legends were born, Huy. Because people don’t mind being sore losers together. And I’m being serious. With that whole please become a part of our band thing.”
An Huy suddenly hated this window corner now. Not because Quang Nam a few moments ago called him by those two words sore loser, not even because he knew one universal truth that he indeed was. Because of something else that was nonexistent. “So what? You think I can fit whatever idea of a band you two thought of?”
“Hey, just because Da Lab did not recruit you, doesn’t mean you are forever eliminated from the music industry.” The brown-haired man waved his hand, a new cigarette sandwiched between his fingers. “Maybe along the way, you can find something new. Always a nice thing to see new people and try new things, no?”
There An Huy was again, thinking about the blond tall man standing next to him in the corner of the campus main hall; something about his sheepish smile and softly spoken words echoed Quang Nam’s reply at the back of his head. There were so many things about Thai Le Minh Hieu that made An Huy wonder, and he was not the type of person who pried into someone’s personality, let alone a stranger whom he only met once with a cursory promise. Yet those words lingered and somehow resonated with Quang Nam, in a way that he did not foresee at all. Minh Hieu was no P!nk, so why was he so keen on getting up and try, try, try, despite the risk of failure?
He sighed, for the second time this week, and giving Mai Quang Nam the benefit of the doubt twice a week was way too much.
“Fine. I’ll try. But if that Hoang Ton lad failed to graduate then it would not be my fault.”
Quang Nam laughed as he punched An Huy’s shoulder lightly. An Huy took this as the deal was completed, and he had sealed his fate into something that he would never know what to anticipate next. “Never said that mate. So, we’re cool, right?”
—
Turned out the first unexpected thing that occurred to An Huy after that deal was seeing Minh Hieu again, which he had thought would be at least the next jam session.
It would be held on Friday, an information that took him an hour to make Quang Nam vomit out; because his friend kept going on and on about them meeting up afterwards, them being Hoang Ton, Quang Nam and An Huy, despite the whole band idea to this point still sounding a bit vague to him. He studied music, for fuck’s sake; and this cursed community always had a bad habit of someone getting adrenaline rushed while doing music and then accidentally gathering random people to form a band. Oh my god, Slipknot was sick, I can’t get the idea of wearing masks and wearing PPE while screaming metal out of my mind, let’s find some good drummer and bass player in the department to start a similar band. And when that person got back to Earth after the music dopamine came down, the idea just remained an idea. No band ever happened. Slipknot was still good, viva la musique.
Maybe all of this was just a random idea Quang Nam and that Hoang Ton guy came up with when they fucked at the party (who knew; the whole ex-friends-with-benefits looked all too suspicious to An Huy, especially given it was his housemate), and Quang Nam thought about him with the guilt of scamming him with that Da Lab recruitment. And all of this would be just another one of the jokes they would brush off after a few days—
He was queueing for coffee at the campus coffee shop when he heard the familiar cursing sound, successfully cutting off all of his thoughts.
The leather guitar bag brushed against his back softly as he turned his head, recognising the note despite only hearing it one time days ago. Standing behind him was Thai Le Minh Hieu, in a plain white t-shirt and blue jeans and dishevelled blond hair, as if he just woke up five seconds ago and rushed here. There was a bag full of textbooks and miscellaneous things hanging by his shoulder, stuffed to the point he did not bother to close the zipper. Nonetheless, he still looked as shiny as the sun, even getting brighter as he recognised the man queueing before him and grinned. “Oh, Huy? I didn’t know you’re here.”
An Huy coughed, his throat all of a sudden turned dry. “Hey.”
In retrospect, he should have commended Lana del Rey more when he wrote his final paper about her music in that Music in Context class. Too late for that, but he guessed arts were for one to reflect on themselves as they experienced more in life, that was why arts were timeless and continuously resonating with men regardless of ages and times. He understood the phrase blue jeans, white shirt all too thoroughly now. His eyes indeed burned.
“I’ve seen your text, actually.” Minh Hieu, oblivious to what was going on in An Huy’s head right now, continued ranting. “Sorry for not replying. I was busy with deadlines. But thank you.” His eyes gleamed as he looked at An Huy. “It means a lot to me.”
An Huy blinked, taking a few seconds to realise what Minh Hieu was talking about. The text. The jam session. Right. Somehow his heart beat faster upon the final sentence; had it had hands, maybe it would have held those words so close and dearly. “You’re welcome. I hope you will attend.”
“Friday night right?”
To which An Huy nodded, just as the queue behind him was done, and his turn was next. He ordered his regular coffee, and stepped aside to wait for Minh Hieu. He was used to this side angle, just like at the party the other day, where he could quietly observe the young man without him knowing. There was something endearing about Minh Hieu’s figure, he was confident and bright in An Huy’s impression, but sometimes he would unintentionally slip out a few gestures or expressions like he was awkwardly struggling to fit in. Although An Huy was unsure for whom he had to make efforts like that. To this point they were still cool; and An Huy never tried to maintain any posturing, or demand so from the other. It was just his thoughts, maybe, seeing that shy smile, or those big eyes conveying something too obscure he could not fathom yet.
“Are you in a hurry?” Minh Hieu asked as he finally got his order, a simple matcha latte with oat milk. The coffee shop was not that busy on a Wednesday morning, people seemingly took their order and immediately left for classes, so a lot of tables were unoccupied. An Huy shook his head, deciding Quang Nam and his stupid demos could wait.
They finally got a table outside that was under a tree, avoiding as much sunlight as they could. Minh Hieu set his bag aside as he sighed in relief. “Finally. That thing is a pain.”
“You have some morning classes or something?” An Huy asked.
“Yeah. But I’m too bored, you know? IMC. Fucking tedious.” Minh Hieu shook his head as he held up the matcha cup. “It’s not like the class will get cancelled and all students banned from doing marketing forever if I just skip one time.”
“Watch out,” An Huy smirked, sipping on his coffee as well. “you might get called performative for bringing too many books like that without using them.”
“Ah, fuck, right, performative and poser.” The blond faked a painful moan. “If they called me performative then I would perform the act of bringing books everywhere forever, shit myself if I stop doing that; if they called me a poser I would pose like a successful intellectual as well when in fact I’m just a loser who couldn’t distinguish between indie and alternative. How does that sound?”
“To be fair, they are quite easy to tell you know.”
“Spoken by a music major.” He smiled as Minh Hieu had loosened up the polite barrier, and replaced it with his nose crunched up. “I know they’re different. Maybe I’m intellectual actually. I’m just not successful.”
“Same.” An Huy mumbled. An idea came up in his head, so he set the coffee aside and turned to open the guitar bag. “You’re lucky you’re not successful. Being successful means you have to step into capitalism. Very not recommended.”
“Ah, now we’re talking about politics, hm?” Minh Hieu raised an eyebrow as the man in front of him pulled out the guitar. “Shit. You want to talk about politics through music.”
“Definitely not.” An Huy denied, his fingers out of habit started tuning the guitar. “You know what makes success a troll? I can show you.”
Minh Hieu shifted a bit, his hand leaving the matcha cup on the table as his legs drew up, then he wrapped his arms around them, looking both curious and challenging. “Attaboy. Show me then.”
An Huy pretended that the word attaboy did not throw a rock into the peaceful surface of a lake that was his soul, and started running his fingers through the strings. There was realisation dawning on Minh Hieu’s face right at the first few notes, he did not need An Huy to sing any of the lyrics to blurt out right away. “Arctic Monkeys?”
“Ah, you’re a man of culture.”
“Damn, sorry I’m actually a man of decivilisation.” Minh Hieu furrowed. “I hope you don’t mean their music is a troll.”
“Well, you see. Before they succeeded, they used to be I said, who's that girl there? I wonder what went wrong so that she had to roam the streets—so expressive. Like, subtly expressive. And the power of helplessness if you happened to be in that bystander’s point of view strengthens the lyrics so well.” Minh Hieu blinked rapidly again, but he remained silent, letting An Huy continue. He switched to another melody, which he was sure the blond knew, if he already recognised the first one. “When they succeeded, they turned to I wanna be your vacuum cleaner.”
“Hey, nothing wrong with being a vacuum cleaner.” Minh Hieu protested. “Let men yearn.”
“You never have two choices in the world, Hieu.” An Huy grimaced. Of all people, he was the one to wish if only he could. “You stay underground and true to your vision, or you go above and have to change, more or less. You can’t sing about prostitutes dealing with bad men in the pub again.”
“So you say the vision will be lost if you decide to go overground.” Minh Hieu stated, a complicated expression on his pretty face. “But how are you so sure that you would stick true to it if you remain under?”
An Huy looked at the guitar; this instrument had followed him for years, witnessing him from being a teenager and dreaming of becoming someone like Elvis Presley, to now—quite devastated and fed up with life, he might say—yet it was his most loyal companion and never objected to any of his right or wrongdoings. Right being, well, still on the path that he was passionate about, and wrong for everything else. So did it understand his heartbeat the most. “Freedom.” He said slowly, his voice lowered. “Is a thing one would never cherish until lost.”
Minh Hieu went quiet after that. He held his sitting position still, and An Huy knew the man was looking at him. “Touché.” He only commented so, and nothing more.
It would be weird, getting into arguments with someone he only met twice because of something as irrelevant as fucking Arctic Monkeys, but that was how the world around him was. Speaking freely and open to any criticism. Conversations were held to talk, not to show off one’s ego. In fact, he could not imagine living in the world in the opposite way, where he would say something controversial, yet it came from the bottom of his heart, and someone dismissed it.
That someone could be the blond boy sitting in front of him right now; but instead, he was just wordlessly consenting to the freedom An Huy offered. Maybe he was not ready yet, but he was there. And it was enough.
An Huy just did not want someone like Minh Hieu to be afraid of saying anything to him.
After about five minutes of contemplating silence, he looked up at Minh Hieu, who was back to sitting normally now. The sparks in his eyes were cute. An Huy hoped that whatever nightmares the Marketing major gave him, may them never dull those stars. “Say, if one of your friends likes Arctic Monkeys, will they be offended upon hearing that?”
The question made An Huy burst into laughter; he thought of Mai Quang Nam, who despite listening to all kinds of music, actually called his rock playlist Divorced Dad Rock in a mocking tone all the time. “No. We’re not that kind of hating each other just because we hate the shits each other’s into. My friend roasts my music all the time and I likewise, and we’re still sharing the flat. Unfortunately.”
“Isn’t that lucky?” The blond mumbled. “You guys respect each other.”
“It’s just what we are. And if we’re friends, don’t we have to accept it anyway?”
The corner of Minh Hieu’s lips curved up. “Promise me that even if we roast our music taste, we’re still friends.”
“Really? I don’t even know we’re friends now.”
To which Minh Hieu snorted. “Yeah, fuck. No stranger was this committed to playing Arctic Monkeys as an example of the harm capitalism may cause if you decided to step up to the mainstream. We’re friends. Whether you like it or not.”
An Huy did not reply; instead, he just hummed, and his fingers danced on the guitar strings again.
And if he later showed up to the campus studio, where Quang Nam was already seated by the control panels, mixing something that was jazz-leaning, with a stupid smile on his face—enough for Quang Nam to notice and call him you fucking twat—he just realised one thing.
“The fuck took you so long?” Quang Nam complained as he dropped down next to him. “You fucking studied three classes before coming here or something?”
“Ah, don’t hate the player bro, hate the game.” He checked the file on the screen, which read QuangNamsfinalfinalfinal, and the tempo was set to sixty. “Are you slowing this down? Last time I heard this it was like, one hundred? Or did I miss any final in the name?”
“Yeah, well, it’s final, but it’s not final final, so now it’s final final final.” Quang Nam sneered. “On a scale of shit be damned, Quang Nam you’re banned from the music industry forever to oh my god, Quang Nam I want to take your pants off and suck your dick, what do you think?”
An Huy gave his friend a look. “It’s so good it sounds like shit. And fuck your willy—tell that Hoang Ton guy to do that.”
“If only he could. I miss his mouth so much—”
“Okay, okay. Sorry for that.” An Huy held his arms up in surrender. “But if you’re making this the band’s track, then sorry mate I’ve never done jazz singing before.”
“Even better.” Quang Nam remarked. “What’s even better than the first time in everything?”
“Well, it’s not your choice right? It’s still Hoang Ton’s graduation project, so I’m afraid you have to bend to him for now.”
“Shit, I’ve bent over for him before.” His friend dramatically sighed. “Cloud nine all the time.”
“Are you gonna show me other demo options or are you just sitting here like a sore loser?” At least An Huy could be satisfied that he had returned those two words to his friend. “Bitter ex. Were you even exes? Friends with benefits do not count.”
“You’re just enjoying bullying me.” Quang Nam accused, but his fingers maneuvered to the mouse again. “One day you will find a person who will give you unforgettable memories and then I’ll be watching you being bitter over them in contentment. Pinky promise.”
An Huy punched Quang Nam’s shoulder lightly, but he let that conversation die out. Quang Nam just did not need to know for now.
One thing that set Thai Le Minh Hieu apart from all the friends Ha An Huy ever had was that even if he was given the opportunity, he would never be this mean to him. Something about the blond made An Huy want to be gentle, but not as if Minh Hieu were glass; maybe it was because of something glinting in his eyes, like some unknown stars had fallen to Earth and dropped into those brown orbs, making Minh Hieu’s eyes glitter. And An Huy would always look up at a starry sky with pure wonder in his mind and soul.
—
They always held jam sessions in the largest practise room of the department, yet for some reason, the event on Friday night was moved outdoors. Minh Hieu was not there when An Huy and Quang Nam arrived, only a few students – all the faces he was so familiar with – were busy setting up the instruments on a very shady-looking stage in the meadow outside of the campus hall, where he used to sit with Quang Nam during the party days ago. Someone borrowed An Huy’s phone to test the speaker, so there was The All-American Rejects’ It Ends Tonight blasting in his ears now and Quang Nam was wincing next to him as he bit the last piece of his dinner burger.
“The fuck, Huy.” Quang Nam said as he wadded up the burger wrap into a ball and threw it to the bin. “Has anyone told you your music taste is getting worse yet?”
“Look who’s talking. Eminem’s number one cocksucker.”
“Nothing’s bad about sucking Eminem’s cock.” The brown-haired man countered. “Man, now I’d rather listen to your Divorced Dad Rock songs. Where has that spirit gone?”
An Huy glared at him. “It realised you’re such a killjoy and decided to not share music with you again, thanks a lot.”
“Killjoy my ass. You hate my D12 and Nas compilation with all your guts, do you even have the right to say so?”
“Yeah, I’m not accepting judgement from someone worshipping lyrics such as hem-de-lay-la, eni-nich-me-nough-mi-niche-mick-norf…”
Quang Nam burst into laughter. “Out of context, that’s funny. In context, why the fuck do you remember it correctly if you hate it so much?”
“Because I need to save this for embarrassing you in front of Hoang Ton tonight, why not?”
“Yo, losers!” One of the members suddenly shouted at where they were standing. “Come help us with the mic test, will ya?”
“Oh, you’re so fucking dead tonight.” Quang Nam warned with a dangerous smile, and together they walked towards the stage.
The guy who called them, a sophomore named Quang Anh, asked as he fumbled with the wires on the floor. “What song? Will be ready in five minutes.”
“Do some Serj Tankian’s Empty Walls, can you?” An Huy replied and started testing the microphone. “Make it andante.”
“Four-four?”
“Two-two.” Quang Nam jumped in with a wicked grin.
An Huy rolled his eyes. “You’d never see your degree up to that class if you made this two-two you fucking curveball.”
“Ah, I just love challenges. Spare me Mister Best Tenor Of The Class.” His friend sangsong and finally sat down by the black Yamaha organ. “But you chose a good song. Long time no see.”
Quang Anh stood up and shook his head. “You all are insane.” He remarked, and got back to the drum set. “If the campus charges us for playing controversially political music, I’ll sell out both of you.”
The thing was, jam sessions were always a safe zone for them. Here, Quang Nam could smash his keyboard like Billy Martin once did in Dance Floor Anthem, or Quang Anh could perform the whole three minute drum solo thinking he was fucking Jay Weinberg. And An Huy lost count of the number of times when he jumped around the stage like a kangaroo, screaming into the microphone as if it sucked the hell out of his soul; and when they did not perform, both Quang Nam and he still swayed their bodies to whatever music the musicians that day played, loving the way music made them fall in love (“fuck, can you believe that banger was only Kickstart My Heart remix?”) or shake heads in façade disapproval (“Quang Anh, how come you have this idea of dream pop for Rammstein?”), but never the dismissive etiquette that ruled over reality once they stepped out of this safe zone.
An Huy guessed he enjoyed this freedom way too much for the start of the night. Because as he knelt, the microphone pole squeezed tightly between his sweaty palms, finishing the last line from behind those empty walls as dramatically as he thought Serj Tankian would approve, he opened his eyes and saw Minh Hieu already standing there.
He was in a plain white tee again and this time wore a pair of burgundy Adidas joggers, looking both confused and excited. His face lit up as he realised An Huy had seen him, and he cocked his head sheepishly like a wordless Hi.
“Who’s that?” He heard Quang Nam’s voice from behind, looming over him like the demon Ryuk who was about to discover his biggest crime ever. “Hey, isn’t that–”
“Your sorry ass be silent.” An Huy quickly cut him off, despite Quang Nam making a scandalised face. He put the microphone pole back in place and decided to leave the stage, adrenaline had yet to die down in his veins, and he blamed that for the rapid beating of his heart right now.
Upon coming closer, he realised Minh Hieu had put on some kind of fragrance that smelled floral, so soft that it was like moon cactus in the night. It bloomed more when An Huy got close, the smile he did not realise he missed so much before now, the white teeth showing him nothing but pure naïveté about the side of the world he had never seen before. “Hey. Wow.” He could only manage to utter two words, but the awkwardness seemed to disappear when An Huy cocked his head with a grin on his face.
“Hey, welcome to the show.” He signaled with his hand over the stage, where Quang Nam still looked like he would skin An Huy alive later. “Don’t care about them. Bastards.”
“No, it’s fine.” Minh Hieu muttered. “You… man, Huy. You sound amazing.”
“Thanks.” He had heard compliments before on his voice, not that An Huy wanted to be smug or anything. It was just that he knew he had a bit of talent, and everyone appreciated that. No need to hide what he had been gifted, then training so hard for years to achieve. Anyway. “Sorry I’m not performing tonight. I’m just helping them test the stuff.”
Right, maybe the awe in Minh Hieu’s voice made him a bit smug alright, but An Huy just quietly took that and decided he would stay up late for it later. “No, it’s fine. Really. I like it.” Minh Hieu sounded genuinely amused, then he ran through his bag and took out a bottle. “I brought some warm tea. If you want some.”
“Seriously?” He chuckled. “You bring warm tea to a jam session?”
“Well, I have a habit of always bringing water everywhere alright.” Minh Hieu shrugged. “Plus I think it’ll help your voice if you scream too much for the rest of the night.”
An Huy opened the bottle, but something else had warmed him up way before that tea – very strong and nice, like black tea – flew down his throat. Minh Hieu looked pleased at least. He thought maybe living with Mai Quang Nam for so long had influenced him with his shitty referencing hobby, because right now he looked at Minh Hieu’s glowy skin in the night and he could think about nothing but that Thom Yorke’s slurring line in Creep, going like your skin makes me cry. “Thanks again.” He brought his wrist up to wipe his lips, suddenly felt quite overwhelmed; not sure if it was due to the adrenaline aftereffect, or the man in front of him was farming aura so hard, even though he was doing nothing but standing there. “I think it’s gonna start soon.” At the corner of his eye, he saw more music students arrive. Some of them looked unfamiliar, could be freshmen, or different majors like Minh Hieu. “We don’t have seats unfortunately. You’ll have to stand or sit on the grass.”
“I’m okay with that.” Minh Hieu announced as he followed An Huy to the terrace in front of the stage, where Quang Nam was standing next to a small crowd of audience, talking to someone in an excited tone that An Huy realised he would only use whenever he talked about things he loved like Eminem or oriental cuisine.
As if feeling someone approaching, Quang Nam turned back. “Shit, I thought I was paranoid, looking over my back.”
“Your reference skill is getting worse quicker than my music taste, Nam. Just so you know.”
Quang Nam threw a dirty look at An Huy, then he offered Minh Hieu a hand. “Hey. You’re Huy’s friend?”
“Yeah.” The blond nodded as he took Quang Nam’s hand. “I’m Minh Hieu. From Marketing.”
“Shit. Unlucky.” Quang Nam mumbled, earning a disapproving snort from An Huy. “What? You almost failed that Marketing class, didn’t you? Stop acting mate.”
“Because I trusted you to do the presentation thing, Nam.” An Huy waved his hand. “Never do that again in my life. I mean trusting you, not Marketing classes.”
Next to him, Minh Hieu giggled. “I understand. If I could trade my major for a singing voice like you I’d never be quicker in my life to accept.”
Quang Nam maybe had started to believe that An Huy’s friend was also a jerk like him, so he gave both a glare. “I thought my friend wooed you. Turns out you’re just another follower of his cult.”
Behind him, the person he talked to earlier laughed softly. When he spoke up, his voice was gentle and melodic. An Huy could recognise right away he was also a vocalist. “Nam, be kind.”
As if this mouth friend of his knew the definition of kindness. An Huy shook the stranger’s hand, pretending to not hear Quang Nam’s scorn. “He just loves messing around. I’m Huy, by the way.”
“Hoang Ton.” The person replied. “I’ve heard Nam talk about you.”
“Of course he does. Probably talking shit about my music taste.”
“Don’t tell him I tell you he’s another member of your cult as well.” The betrayed look on Quang Nam’s face broke Hoang Ton’s face into a wide grin. “Did he mention about my graduation project to you yet?”
An Huy nodded. “Yeah. Worst communication guy ever, if you ask me.”
“Y’all are mean.” Quang Nam complained. Then he turned to Minh Hieu, who was still silent throughout the conversation. “I’m so sorry you have to stick with my friend. He’s a totally bad influence.”
Minh Hieu rubbed the back of his right ear at that. “The best kind of bad then.” He winked at An Huy, and somewhere inside him, An Huy could hear himself sigh in relief; at least the blond was loosening himself up and not taking any offense at their casual type of bickering. The last thing he wanted was Minh Hieu’s disdain over them, because they were sore losers – Mai Quang Nam could hold account for bringing up that term forever – and in every possible way, An Huy still thought Minh Hieu was more of a W than any of them. That he must have lowered himself to blend in with have-nots like them. But seeing the way he joined the conversation naturally now, he could finally sweep that thought and ease up a bit. Ha An Huy could hate himself for so many stupid things he had committed, but for once, this was one of the few things in life he did not regret.
And then there came Quang Anh’s voice, finally kicking the night off with a sharp short riff to gather everyone’s attention. “Folks, stop being pathetic and do more things than existing.”
“Here we go.” An Huy whispered to Minh Hieu, whose eyes widened in surprise and anticipation. “I hope you know Red Hot Chilli Peppers.”
“Hm? Why are you talking about food now?”
Oh, little did he know.
—
The thing about Quang Anh was that he was good at improvisation. He could hype the audience up with a short riff he came up with himself, then lowered the mood by slowing down the melody and turning it into something else unexpectedly.
An Huy understood why they decided to move the jam session outdoors, and all of a sudden more people joined in today than usual now. As the drummer finished the outro of My Chemical Romance’s Welcome to the Black Parade, the vocalist bowed down and left the stage in several clapings, including Minh Hieu with shiny eyes – probably never went to amateur live music events like these before. Then, another figure in black leather jacket and skinny jeans came from behind the stage, earning a surprised snort from Hoang Ton. “Shit. They want to turn this into a gig or something?”
Immediately the claps turned louder, some people who were sitting stood up as well. Quang Nam looked too delighted to stay still, his legs kept dancing around as if he was in tenterhooks. “Fuck. They invited the goat!”
“Who is that?” Minh Hieu questioned, but clapped anyway as the figure took off his black glasses and welcomed the crowd with the loudest growl ever.
An Huy could not help but widened his smile; he took pride in inviting Minh Hieu here tonight. It was unexpected, but a satisfying kind of unexpected. “Give him great expectations, Hieu. That’s Manh Ninh, one of our outstanding graduates.”
“Manh Ninh? Dinh Manh Ninh?” Minh Hieu sniffed. “The one our university hung the gold tribution medal for in the achievement display?”
“Yeah, that’s him.” An Huy could feel the tension building up in the crowd now; all people had stood up and cheered louder as Dinh Manh Ninh grabbed the microphone out of the pole, and signaled Quang Anh to start the first chord. Definitely this was Quang Anh’s improvising tricks, because no way Manh Ninh went back here just to throw at them bangers in such a casual night with no reasons. “Don’t be shy.” He nudged at Minh Hieu.
“I’m not.” The blond exhaled, seemingly both nervous and eager. “Fuck, isn’t he the one going overground? Not your underlings anymore?”
“Yeah, damn. No.” An Huy said. “He’s like, you know. Insane. Exceptional. Both of both worlds. You can call him Hannah Montana, that person. I’ll put him in the list of a few exceptions.”
That cracked Minh Hieu into laughter. It was lost among the loud shoutings of the crowd, but An Huy caught a glimpse of his rosy lips opening up, looking all so happy to be alive. “Did you just call him Hannah Montana?”
“Alright, folks.” Dinh Manh Ninh spoke up, clapping his hands together along with the people. “What do you need?”
Behind him, hidden in the darkness, Quang Anh has started a few notes. The tempo was set at around ninety, the chords swinging back and forth between A minor, C and G.
“Violence!” Someone shouted.
“Freedom!” Quang Nam shrieked, a bit more aggressively than usual, sounding like a hurt wolf; some more agreeing noises followed.
“Trinh Thang Binh!” A girl screamed, and the crowd broke into laughter while Manh Ninh looked both shocked and about to throw the microphone at her at the same time.
“Yeah, yeah, keep that a secret for now, will ya?” He asked, shaking his head with a surrendering smile. “But now, what do you need? I need a gun, to keep myself among…”
“Damn, that’s Dirty Harry!” Hoang Ton exclaimed as he swung his body and clapped. All the people followed, making a messy wave along with Manh Ninh’s powerful voice. “You’ve ever heard of Gorillaz?”
“Fuck if I’ve ever heard of Gorillaz! All people are burning in the sun!” An Huy squealed, chanting the lyrics with the audience. He pulled Minh Hieu closer to him while mimicking Hoang Ton’s gesture. Minh Hieu’s skin was soft in his grip, but he felt like burning in a weird sensation he had never felt before. The blond was exhilarated as well, clearly enjoying the song like everyone else was.
There was something hypnotising in Manh Ninh’s voice that made everyone move, wanted or not. Soon, Minh Hieu seemed to let the last piece of his shyness slip away and bumped himself against An Huy’s arm, and An Huy loved it. The turbulence of bodies against bodies under the gravity of music made it better and hotter while his heart cried louder. He saw a glow spot in Minh Hieu’s cheeks, probably some highlighter he put on, and he could imagine the softness there under his unreal touch, as if he already claimed Minh Hieu his.
His.
“You’re good?” An Huy asked, his voice as quiet as a breath. But Minh Hieu heard it anyway as he threw his head back, the disheveled hair shifted accordingly like seawaves. He was beautiful, in both neat and untidy ways. For the first time in life, An Huy thought maybe he was defeated, at that moment of realisation; and he did not take it seriously, surprisingly.
“Not my type of music.” Minh Hieu replied, the stars in his eyes seemed glowing brighter. “But you know,” He giggled as he moved closer to An Huy, so close; the distance between them shrank into centimeters now, and An Huy could feel his warm breath against his skin, dazed by the braveness from someone who literally blushed while asking for his permission to stay in the corner at the party days ago. “you never need to like a song to hear it anyway.”
“Non-music’s sake?” An Huy guessed mischievously.
Even after hours, he could still feel the ghostly bittersweetness of the tea lingering at the tip of his tongue, and oh, Thai Le Minh Hieu just brought him warmth, so much warmth for him to savour.
“Non-music’s sake.” The blond agreed, as the song crawled towards the end in a prolonged series of chords. All I wanna do is dance. An Huy let his thoughts drift in that river of consonance. A minor. C. G. Back to A minor again. Why the fuck was Minh Hieu so beautiful?
“Right, folks.” Manh Ninh finished the song with a bow. He, similar to the crowd he just stirred up, was sweating, yet his smile remained, or maybe growing wider than when the song started. “You are all truly heroes of the night.”
—
The local fast food restaurant was hushed in the middle of the night, but An Huy guessed that was what the four of them needed now – peacefulness – to kill the last remaining adrenaline pulsing in their veins. Quang Nam groaned immediately after he dropped himself on the chair next to the windows, his fingers circling his temples. “Fuck. Me.”
An Huy coughed as he moved aside, saving the space for Minh Hieu, who was still busy with ordering food at the counter. “Sorry I’d have to pass. Tell that to Hoang Ton.” Hoang Ton made a weird noise at that, but he did not say anything.
“Fuck, now I need a gun, but to shoot at my head. Seriously.” Quang Nam complained, ignoring whatever expression on his ex-friend-with-benefits right now. “It’s killing me.”
“You’ve ever heard of dehydration?”
“Fuck yes I have.” He threw his head back on the couch, looking up at the ceilings and moaned again. “And you’re not helping at all.”
“I’m just here.”
“Exactly. With your boyfriend. Definitely making my headache worse.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” An Huy scowled.
“See, you only care about your man. And you did not care about my headache at all.”
On the other side of the shop, Minh Hieu was still standing awkwardly at the counter with a bill in his hand, waiting for the order, completely ignorant of the bickering at the table right now. As proposed, they did meet up after the gig, and Quang Nam told An Huy to tag Minh Hieu along, for whatever reason he did not bother to reveal. And here they were, still acting like children as ever.
“But that Gorillaz remix was nice.” Hoang Ton spoke up, as if he felt sorry for An Huy for handling the mess that was Mai Quang Nam when he had a headache. “I can’t believe Quang Anh did that. Turning electronic music into heavy metal? Nice.”
“Yeah, we call him the alchemist for a reason. You remember his attempt to make Rammstein dream pop?”
“For some reason I can’t vibe with that, but I keep wanting to hear it again.” Quang Nam said. “You telling me now just makes me think about it. I need to ask Quang Anh next time.”
“Forward me as well.” Said Hoang Ton as he pulled out his phone and checked the time. “I’m curious.”
“Why don’t you invite him to be a part of your band then?”
Maybe the bitterness in Quang Nam’s tone was too obvious, hence Hoang Ton’s reply with a flinch. “It’s similar to you and An Huy teaming up in that Marketing class, despite being best friends. You still had conflicts, right?”
An Huy grimaced. “We’re here talking about your project and you still want to talk shit about us?”
“No. Oh my God. Right.” Hoang Ton held up both of his hands. Next to him, Quang Nam looked like he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. “It’s not always selecting the best people in your team. It’s about the vibe. You have to get along with the team to bring out the best in each other. Music is about experimenting and expressing, not competing who is the best.”
An Huy gave him a long look. “Mate, we only met for the first time today.”
Hoang Ton clicked his finger. “Bingo. And I feel like I can get along with you already.”
The idea sounded so unserious An Huy suddenly had a thought that maybe all of this was just Hoang Ton trying to get back to Quang Nam into the, well, whatever their complicated relationship was. There was something so not friend-with-benefits in the way Hoang Ton treated his best friend, or Quang Nam commenting on him; it sounded like desperation in bravado. But nonetheless, his focus shifted as Minh Hieu finally got back with a tray full of food on his hands, his lips curving up lightly. “Hey. Food.”
“Jeez, thanks.” Quang Nam sat up, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t think I can stand up anymore. Can’t feel my legs.”
“Keep the spirit.” An Huy moved his phone aside so Minh Hieu could place the tray on the table. “Maybe you’ll be the first musician in our class to smash the keyboard while sitting in a wheelchair.”
“Twat.” Quang Nam sighed.
An Huy passed a box of nuggets, which belonged to his meal deal, to Minh Hieu’s portion. “Here. You must be starving.”
“I’m okay.” Minh Hieu said, but he gleefully opened the box and picked up the chicken nugget anyway. “I’m sorry but why am I here? I know Huy and you guys have a meeting after the jam session, but I’m not sure why I was invited as well.”
“Because I know if you’re not around tonight, my best friend will be brooding for the rest of the day.” Quang Nam said, and then held up his hand as An Huy glared at him. “Fine, fine! Sorry. I’m just joking. Don’t mind it.”
Oh, how An Huy wished he would just use that Eminem’s line in American Psycho to shame his friend in front of Hoang Ton, but he was too nice of a person to do so. Minh Hieu gulped, still unsure if Quang Nam was genuine or not. “So should I leave or something? It’s okay, I really don’t mind–”
An Huy shook his head and grabbed Minh Hieu’s arm before he could do anything. “No. It’s okay. Let Quang Nam continue.”
Quang Nam, in fact, had no desire whatsoever to continue anything. Instead, he bit into a chicken strip and pointed his finger towards Hoang Ton, as if asking if he could do The Talk. Hoang Ton took that responsibility anyway, his voice still gentle like a teacher guiding these kids towards the light of literacy. “So. I heard you study Marketing.”
Minh Hieu blinked. “Yeah.”
“And judging the three of us here, you can tell that we’re shitty at planning and stuff.” An Huy did not take that as an offense; it was quite a common fact about music majors, so he remained silent. “I am asking if you’re interested in joining our band and helping us stay on track with… whatever direction we’re heading.”
An Huy heard Minh Hieu make a noise, like he was taken aback. He was no exception; even worse, he felt like he had done something wrong. Both Hoang Ton and Quang Nam did not know how much Minh Hieu hated his major and did not want to have anything to do with it, except him. But right now regret sounded useless. He drank the orange juice in his cup, suddenly missing the previous warm tea so much.
“I… that’s unexpected.” Minh Hieu slowly replied, all happiness from the gig disappeared along with the dopamine. “Why do you choose me anyway? I’m sure that there are a lot of people out there who can do the job better than I do.”
Hoang Ton leaned back, smiling. “I’ll repeat this again. You were not here previously, sorry. I told Nam and Huy here,” He gestured his fingers around the table. “that it’s all about the vibe. Music is about experimenting and expressing, not competing who is the best. And I feel like I can get along with you.”
“You sound like a gaydar, Ton.” Quang Nam muttered as he sipped on his fizzy drink. “Are you sure you’re not having a preference of recruiting homosexuals for your band only?”
That successfully lifted the atmosphere up, because Minh Hieu could not help but crack into laughter. Seeing him relax a bit, An Huy was relieved, but he tried to not expose himself at this moment, being too excited at the thought of Minh Hieu and him joining a band. Together.
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” Hoang Ton circled his arms, trying to put up a fake serious expression. “But seriously, Hieu. Think about it. And I’ve heard your voice as well singing along to Dirty Harry. I promise I’m not going to waste any of your potential.”
There was no response from Minh Hieu yet. An Huy bit his lips, remembering what the blond used to tell him at the party. That he used to try applying to his music major, and got rejected. The bright and optimistic Minh Hieu who never minded the doors shut closed on him and always ready to find another way, now seemed so vulnerable in An Huy's eyes. In the quietness of the empty shop at night, his thoughts seemed to have volumed up, echoing a hollow part of his heart. He was not used to rejection, and maybe up to now he was still bitter over Da Lab not accepting him, but in the past few days he had realised leaving a closed door from behind and moving forward with new faces and new experiences were not bad at all. And shit be damned, he hated it when Quang Nam was right.
“Okay. Right. Okay.” Finally, Minh Hieu said. There was a spark of hope in the way he spoke, the words leaving his pretty mouth sounded calm. “Let’s do it. I’m not sure if I can catch up with you guys, but I’ll try my best.”
“Oh, you can do it alright.” Quang Nam waved his hand, and Hoang Ton leaned back, a satisfied smile on his face. “Don’t think too highly of us. We’re the underdogs, remember?”
“So you’re telling me Ha An Huy is an underdog with that voice?” Minh Hieu countered.
“Oh my God, you’re helpless.” Quang Nam shook his head. “Huy, stop putting the spell on him. Or whatever. Poor guy.”
“I didn’t do anything.” An Huy threw a smug look at his best friend, and finally got back to the forgotten meal on the table. The food got less hot by now, but he bit into his burger anyway.
“Right, ladies. Stop arguing.” Hoang Ton clapped his hands, sounding excited after finishing gathering enough underdogs to start the team. “Now, tell me, each of you. What is your favourite music genre and artist?”
Quang Nam shrugged. “Hip-hop. You know the drill. I lick Eminem’s boots.”
An Huy made a disgusted face at that just to annoy his best friend. “I like rock. Like Muse and Avenged Sevenfold and stuff.”
To which Quang Nam snorted. “Divorced Dad music you mean.”
“Give peace a chance, Nam. For real.” An Huy curled his lips up, as he patted Minh Hieu’s shoulder gently. “Don’t be afraid.”
“I like old pop music.” Minh Hieu admitted, the honesty in his voice was so adequate that it made An Huy have to restrain himself from smiling like he just achieved one of the hardest quests in his lifetime that was to encourage the blond to be truthful about himself. “Like Jesse McCartney and Simple Plan and One Republic.”
Hoang Ton exhaled; now he looked like he would rather jump off a bridge than give these underdogs his music. “I’ll… need to think.” He said, his hands reaching a tissue to wipe the burger crumbs off his mouth. “Some point where all of us could harmonise. It is definitely somewhere, but I don’t know yet.”
“Oh, take your time, honey.” Quang Nam sniffed the dip sauce and made a face. “Is this even edible?”
“Why don’t we set up weekly meetings?” Minh Hieu suggested. “To test all of our music together. I mean, the more we meet up, the more we can understand each other to find a junction for all of us, right?”
Hoang Ton clicked his finger again. “See, you’re brilliant. You have joined the band for five minutes and done better than Quang Nam for five days.”
Quang Nam made a scandalous face and slapped his own legs. “Right. Sounds like my cue to leave. I was sent to exile by my own bandmates.”
Deciding now was the time for that couple to bicker on whatever rebound things they were trying to woo each other into, An Huy turned to Minh Hieu now. His mouth was still curving up, but somehow An Huy knew it was just an automatic reaction to everything, and not that he was really smiling. “Are you okay?” He nudged his shoulder against Minh Hieu’s.
To which Minh Hieu nodded. “You’ve asked me for the second time tonight.”
“Well, I was the one to drag you in this mess. I’ve got to take responsibility for it, no?”
“It’s fine. Really.” Minh Hieu shook his head, but he sounded quite anxious as he continued. “It’s really weird, you know? All of this up to now. It’s not like everyday you can receive an offer to join a band from the department which used to reject you, and you get told that you have potential.”
Somewhere inside An Huy sympathised with that; he thought about the rejection email from Da Lab, still nestled in his mailbox right now, and despite having accepted and swallowed that bile, it suddenly rose up in his throat, tasting even more bitter. “I understand. Just pretend it’s a door opening up. You said that you would always find a way, right? Maybe this could be the one.”
“Oh, pretend.” Minh Hieu chuckled, a hint of pain behind that for some reason irritated An Huy more than it should. “I have experience in that. But,” he managed a more genuine smile now, back to the cheerful self that he thought he could fool the world. “we’ll see how it goes. Better to do it than never and wonder later, right?”
Ha An Huy saw through that veil, but he did not say anything.
Instead, his right hand, which was resting on the couch, started moving; until it was put on top of Minh Hieu’s left hand, to the blond’s surprise. An Huy thought Minh Hieu had jolted slightly; it happened quickly, and disappeared right away, as if it had never existed. But he knew it did.
Because there was a small tremble at that cold hand, as if there was a muted earthquake going on underneath that skin right now. Yet he did not remove his hand, and continued the hold like nothing. Like he was the god who could control that catastrophe, ease it down, and then shut it off.
“You…” Minh Hieu only managed a word, anything he tried to say sadly died down when An Huy’s fingers slipped through the gap between his fingers, then squeezed them tightly.
“It’s okay, Hieu.” He said, feeling that the earthquake may have spread to him, because his heart beat so loudly he thought maybe he got the paranoia of its sound in his ears right now. It shook his whole inside, as if arranging him to be a completely different person. Maybe nothing would be the same after tonight.
Well, if fate had settled so.
“You’ll always have me.” He said, and despite not trying to say it in a singsong tone, it still sounded like a serenade, to which Minh Hieu’s cheeks started reddening.
It was a private chord that he would only play to Minh Hieu. The melody he would only save to sing for him. The words he would only compose for him and him only.
Just there.