Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

the shape of the pick doesn’t deteriorate  

Giuk believed that the moment he met Kang Hyungu was the exact moment his life began to change.  

Perhaps it’s ridiculously naïve to believe that a brief moment in winter was when he found a sun to orbit. As he grew older and somewhat wiser, he knew it to be the creation of his solar system, the lost stars finding solace, the planets finding their gravitational pull. His pillars of creation were moulded from the touch of their fingertips and the plucking of strings. Giuk would never be able to fully give justice to the depths of his feelings, or how that moment ran so deeply through his soul, like a river finding the ocean.  

No matter how many songs he would write, none of them could scratch the surface of how Kang Hyungu made him feel. He would spend years trying to understand it. He would write sonnets and compose melodies to try and grasp what his heart was telling him.  

But before all the songs, there was just them.  

Before Giuk could get older, he had to be young.  

He had to be twelve years old, stood under the dead winter trees, hands cold and nose pink, staring at Hyungu for the first time.  

giuk – end of winter, 2012 

Without Harin, there may have never been the band. 

Harin was the foundation, the first of them all to start thinking about a future. He was the catalyst, that first sign of life in an otherwise empty abyss. Giuk had always liked the idea of a band growing up, but he was young and determined to prove to his parents that the risk was worth it. The need to impress his parents took precedence over personal glory. Harin, however, had dreamt of bands and stages before Giuk was even taking lessons, and so without his sheer determination, none of it may have happened. 

In the last days of January, Harin first approached him.  

Giuk had heard of Ju Harin, the young drummer with sharp eyes and curly hair. The young musicians always got a bit of attention, fuelled by the jealousy of their seniors. Everyone wished they were the prodigy, the young blood picked out of the herd. Sometimes he would see Harin around the academy, carrying his drum kits diligently, not imposed by their weight or shape. Harin had an air to him, an effortless coolness that made it hard for Giuk to approach. 

He tried to act unaffected when the boy found him in one of the music rooms. Giuk was used to being alone, too young for anyone to want to talk to, left to his own devices. The music room at the end of the school was his new home, always empty, a pocket of calm.  

Harin had found him, curly hair constantly flicking into his eyes when he walked over. Giuk noticed the drumsticks poking out of his pocket. 

“Lee Giuk, right?” He asked, and it felt adult the way he said. Like maybe Harin had heard of him, too.  

Giuk looked up from where he was tuning a guitar. “Yes?” 

“I’m Ju Harin,” he said, doing a bow, which Giuk tried to reciprocate while sitting down. Harin was acting strange, almost shifty. It was the sight of a boy trying to be a man, trying to be assertive and brave. He wiped his hands on his trousers before tucking them behind his back. Giuk followed the movement but did not comment. 

“Nice to meet you,” his voice sounded quiet to him. 

“You’re the youngest at the academy, aren’t you?”  

“Yes, I think so.” 

“You act very mature,” Harin commented, and Giuk did a mental tally of how many students and teachers had told him that since he started.  

“Thank you.” 

“My friend and I want to get to know you better. I think it’s good if all the youngest at the school stick together.” Harin then smiled, an afterthought, and Giuk was amused. He was a little shy but remembered his mother’s worried eyes whenever he came back from school, lonelier than the day before. “Oh. Really?” 

“Yeah! We were once the youngest, too, so we know how it feels.” 

“Okay. We can be friends.” Giuk smiled then, feeling a budding warmth unfurl in his chest. 

“Great!” He said, louder than before, the sound echoing off the walls. He jolted at the sudden rejoice, and Harin bowed in apology. “Hyungu and I are going to the game's cafe around the corner after school. Want to meet us outside?” 

It was that simple. As he grew, Giuk came to know that friendship would never be as easy as the friendship he found as a kid. It wasn’t as simple as asking, because when people got older, they found the admission embarrassing. Admitting to wanting friends was like a humiliation ritual, but in the winter of 2012, it was as easy as asking for it.  

Giuk always felt older than he was, but when he was faced with the prospect of hanging around with two thirteen, almost fourteen-year-old boys, he was impossibly young. Giuk didn’t like feeling too young; he was too young for his classmates, too young for his sister to like him, too young for his parents to keep up with. Giuk tried hard to appear older, in the hopes someone would want to be around him more.  

His heart was beating rapidly as he left the academy, clouds grey and wind biting. Giuk could see Harin from a distance, and for a moment, he thought of fleeing. Students passed around him, all older and taller, chatting away to one another with instruments on their backs. Giuk could get swallowed up by the crowd if he let it. But before he could run away, Harin spotted him and waved.  

Giuk remembered a lot about meeting Harin and Hyungu under the dead trees outside the academy. He remembered how cold it was, hiding his mouth behind the knitted scarf his grandma made. He remembered his hands shaking a little and the scuffs on his shoes. He remembered Harin wearing a denim jacket over his blazer, his first experience of rebellion against restriction. He remembered the boy's wide smiles, and he remembered the slight shimmer of sunlight breaking through the clouds.  

Giuk remembered smiling back at Harin before finally looking over at Hyungu.  

Kang Hyungu, the guitarist. The young boy with the floppy hair and callused hands, always strumming his guitar in the hallway between lessons, silently reading in the courtyard, his hands usually stained with ink from writing. His seniors often whispered about Hyungu, about his talent and the injustice of it all. Hyungu was almost just a collection of rumours and stories to him rather than a real person, yet he stood before him, real in every sense. 

Giuk remembered Hyungu looking pale with the winter light, lips a little chapped too, but his gaze was intense and his eyes bright. His guitar was slung over his back, and Giuk liked the little star doodles all over the strap. He was frozen to the spot, enamoured. The bible said not to admire people like idols, but Giuk knew the moment their eyes met that the idealisation could not be stopped.  

“Is this him?” Hyungu said, not accusing but friendly. Giuk nodded even though the question was not directed towards him. Hyungu laughed, leaning over to ruffle his hair. “Oh, he’s so cute!”  

Usually, he hated that. But when this boy said it, he found he didn’t mind.  

“This is my friend Hyungu, the one I was telling you about,” Harin intercepted, patting his friend’s shoulder.  

Giuk shouldn’t have agreed to go to that cafe. His mother didn’t know about any after-school activities, and he was too young for a phone. He considered asking one of the other two to borrow their phone, so he could call home. But then he didn’t want them to think he was childish. Instead, Giuk mourned the peaceful evening he was meant to come back to and left with Harin and Hyungu.  

Harin and Hyungu had been friends for a few years, and their easy conversation was intimidating to Giuk at first. But they were kind, always including him if they ever got carried away with a story, asking him about himself and what kind of music he liked. It didn’t take much for them to bond. Music, it seemed, was their biggest common ground, the little string of fate that connected them effortlessly.  Back home, he was isolated with his passion.  

His parents were people of practicality. His mother liked order, she liked balance and a routine. She was all straight lines, never curving to the wind, following the path set before her rigidly and without question. She wore the same three blazers and blouses, ironed at nine pm every Sunday evening. His father was not one for frills or flair. His coffee mug was white, his dinner plate black, his ties grey. Music was merely a background noise for them, a white noise to fill the silence.  

When they had his sister, Gayeon, she was everything they wanted her to be. Placid, easily influenced and good-natured. Gayeon did not test them; she did not scream or shout. Gayeon merely let them mould her like clay into what they needed to fulfil the domestic bliss. Giuk never understood why six years later, they were compelled to have him. If Gayeon was so perfect, why did they risk tainting their image? 

Giuk was not appeased by the muted decor of his home, of the routine, the same old day in and day out. As soon as he could walk, he would run, eager to see just how far he could go before falling. Giuk was covered in bruises and scrapes as a toddler, much to their dismay. Giuk knew that the only reason they indulged him with music was because it was the only thing that controlled him. It gave them order, and so it was just another cage in which they could keep him tamed.  

But Harin and Hyungu were not in cages.  

When they got to the cafe, Hyungu wordlessly bought him a drink. Giuk quietly thanked him when he was handed it, guided to a little space in the back with a few spare computers. They taught him some online games, showing him the buttons and the rules. After a few hours, he found himself smiling and laughing, loosening up more and more.  

“No!” Harin yelled after Hyungu won for the fourth time in a row. He slammed his fists down and shot the employee an apologetic smile when he received a glare for it. 

Hyungu winked at his friend. “Too bad.” 

“It’s not fair, it’s those guitarist fingers of yours, they’re too quick,” Harin said, already clicking on the computer to start a new game. Giuk watched Hyungu smile fondly at his friend before he looked at Giuk. Giuk’s cheeks grew warm at getting caught, but the older smiled and pulled his chair closer.  

“Giuk, want to team up?” Hyungu asked.  

“Hey, this isn’t fair! I’m the one who invited him!”  

Nodding eagerly, he shuffled even closer and aided Hyungu in his next victory against Harin. Hyungu was quiet and supportive, letting Giuk point to his screen and even tap a few keys to help out. Hyungu did all the heavy lifting, yet he let Giuk take the credit.  

“Do you like being at the academy, Giuk?” Harin said later, when they were sharing some snacks. Their eyes were too tired to keep playing.  

Giuk thought of the long halls and practice rooms. “I love being able to play music every day, and I love being surrounded by people who are the same. But it’s a bit lonely.” 

“We were the same when we first started. I guess we were lucky that we started at the same time.” 

“Have you always played the drums?” He directed his question to Harin, who scared him less than Hyungu.  

“My dad is a drummer, and so is my uncle. We’re a big family full of a lot of creatives. My sister is a good artist. I’ve been drumming since I could walk.” 

Giuk thought of his parents, how they would cover his ears when musicians busked on the streets. “My parents don’t like music.” 

Harin and Hyungu froze. “How can someone not like music?” 

He shrugged. “They just don’t care for it.” 

“Are you sure you’re their child?”  

Giuk giggled at that. “I look just like my mother.” 

“Parents are weird,” Hyungu added, before offering him the last crisp.  

The walk home was dark; the sun had set rapidly, and the closer they got to his house, the more he worried about his mother’s scathing glare.  

“Giuk,” Hyungu said when they were ready to part ways. “I have something for you.” He rummaged through his pockets, and Giuk’s curiosity grew.  

“Ah! Found it,” Hyungu held out a blue pick, glimmering under the moonlight. It was well used, clearly loved, and despite it being a small piece of plastic, it was the best gift he had received in a long time. The pick was important to a musician, a tiny fragment of their soul. Giuk held the newly acquired pick close to his heart.  

“Thank you. I love it,” Giuk smiled without caution, and Hyungu ruffled his hair again. Later, he would learn that Hyungu didn’t warm up to people that quickly.  He didn’t know that it took Harin months for Hyungu to finally feel comfortable around him. He wouldn’t know that when the two boys left him that evening, Harin gave his friend a bewildering look, because that was his favourite pick. Hyungu did not comment on it to his friend, and so it was left unsaid.  

The house was quiet when he got in. As soon as the door clicked shut, he felt the silent rage of his mother, rippling like water.  

“Lee Giuk,” she said, each sound pronounced. 

“I’m sorry. I wanted to call, but I don’t have a phone.”  

There was creaking from the stairs.  

“Do you know what the solution to that is?” 

Giuk shook his head.  

“You. Come. Home.” 

“I’m sorry.”  

“Who were those boys?” She jutted her chin out to the window where Harin and Hyungu once stood. 

“They’re from the academy. They want to be friends.” 

He knew the word friends softened the anger, just a tad, her shoulders deflating and jaw unclenching. His mother liked her anger; it grounded her more than being happy did. She found it easy to let her emotions consume her this way. Giuk did not understand how she could live like that, always angry at the world, always frustrated.  

Finally, she let go of it. “You’re grounded for a week. Dinner is on the counter.” 

When Giuk was eating the last bits of dinner alone at the table, he saw Gayeon from the staircase. She glared at him before disappearing to her room.

-------------  

Son Dongmyeong played his keyboard at exactly 5:35 pm every day.  

When Giuk heard the twinkling of the keys, he knew the twins were home. Dongmyeong always opened his window when he played, even when it snowed. Giuk did not know the reason for it, but suspected it was so Giuk could hear, like a siren song for suffocating musicians. He wasn’t sure how long Dongmyeong had been playing the keyboard, but the instrument had been there for as long as the Son’s had. Sometimes, Giuk would play his bass, or his guitar at the same time, and wordlessly they would play the same song and keep going until their fingers were numb. He liked Dongmyeong; he was cheerful and open, unlike many people Giuk knew.  

Their friendship only stretched as far as their windows did, waving at each other if they ever accidentally caught one another's gaze, chatting amicably in the streets. Sometimes Giuk could hear the twins arguing, and he watched from afar. When the twins argued, it was never anything more than love to him. To fight with someone is to care, and he longed for the connection.  

Gayeon did not argue with him. She couldn’t argue, for she did not talk to him at all. When he told his father this, he simply said it was the age difference. What would an eighteen-year-old want to do with her kid brother? But Giuk didn’t think this was the cause of her irritation and hatred for him. There was something unspoken in her lack of interest towards him, a deep-seated grudge that he could not heal, because he did not know where the wound was.  

The most she would say to him would be to scold, to tell him to keep it down, or to stop leaving his music notes all over the place.  

When he’s grounded, she liked it.

“Justice,” she whispered to him.  

“Grounded?!”  Harin and Hyungu said when he got to school the next day, after asking him if he wanted to go out again.  

Embarrassed, he nodded and distracted himself with the drum kit in front of him, tapping the sticks against the batter head softly.  

“We’re so sorry, we should have thought of that! How long for?” 

“It’s only a week.” 

“We can do something in a week. That's if you still want to be friends after we got you grounded?” Harin joked, but then looked at him for an answer, as if Giuk would seriously consider turning down their invite now that he was finally making friends.  

Slowly, Giuk started to integrate himself into their friendship. Where he used to go to school by himself, Harin and Hyungu had started waiting for him outside, making sure they walked in together. They would ruffle his hair and occasionally make fun of his height, like real friends do. Giuk, in return, would push them, feeling less and less shy as the weeks went on. Sometimes the boys would walk him home, and he could feel his mother’s gaze from the window.  

“What are you wearing?” His father asked one morning, pausing mid-sip of his coffee.  

Giuk looked down at himself. “My uniform?” 

“That is not a part of your uniform,” Gayeon observed, a little smugly.  

“Oh, the jacket?” Giuk tugged at the sleeves of the denim. It looked good on Harin, so Giuk wanted to wear one.  

“Wait until your mother sees,” his father sighed, but didn’t tell him to take it off. Smartly, he left the house before she could see.  

Giuk made sure to take the jacket off when he got to school, still too scared to wear it around the halls and get told off like Harin. Giuk didn’t want the school to send a letter home to his parents, and for them to deem his new friends a bad influence. He liked them; he liked Harin’s confidence and how cool he was. He liked Hyungu’s calm aura and encouraging words.  

Hyungu was more reserved than Harin. Giuk didn’t mind this because he knew what it was like to be less forthcoming. Hyungu was still nice to him and still actively sought out his friendship. Whenever he saw Giuk using the blue pick, he smiled widely, and it looked so lovely on him. Giuk made sure to use it as often as he could.  

On a Friday, he found Hyungu in one of the empty music rooms, earphones in and eyes closed. Lying on the floor, he was detached from the world around him. There were sheets of paper scattered like stars, and he could see Hyungu’s writing scrawled over them. His guitar rested not too far, and the sight was quite beautiful. He could compare him to a painting, but he didn’t think enough paint strokes could do Hyungu justice. To him, he was more of a symphony, a blooming mixture of notes melded into one another, layered and everlasting, conducted by the flow of the galaxy. Hyungu was one of those people who were brimming with creativity and genius, so clear to anyone who met him, and it was a crime he was stuck here.  

Giuk approached carefully, trying not to startle him. His footsteps were light, but Hyungu fluttered his eyes open anyway. Wordlessly, he held out one of his earphones to Giuk.  

“What are you listening to?” He asked while lying down next to him, popping in the earphones. 

“Have you ever heard On the Nature of Daylight?”  

“No.” 

“It’s an instrumental piece. I really like the violins in it. Listen with me?”  

It’s one of many questions that Hyungu will ask him throughout his life, and one of many times Giuk will say yes. 

Giuk will never forget lying on that music room floor with Hyungu, connected by the wired earphone cord, soft orchestra playing in his ears and constellations forming behind his shut eyes. A cosmic shift happened in that moment, when he truly felt himself fall into Hyungu’s orbit, pulled in his direction without knowing he was going to be circling him forever. That his little wandering planet had already found a home amongst the endless darkness. Right then, it was just content and joy, nothing more.  

And when Hyungu walked him home later that evening, Harin was too busy with drumming lessons to accompany them; he still didn’t know. He wouldn’t know for a while that there was nothing to prove, that they were binary stars destined to exist with one another. He wouldn’t know that no matter the distance, he would always find himself right back there. He would not know for many years that even though there was an entire expanding universe before him, it wouldn’t be far enough.  

Eventually, the end will be the beginning, a circle of running, and Hyungu will be right where he left him. 

Until then, it was just the beginning.  

He didn’t think twice when he gave Hyungu his special purple scarf.  

“What are you doing?” Hyungu’s question was muffled under the new wool he had acquired.  

Giuk wrapped it tighter around him, on his tiptoes. “You look cold.” 

“But won’t you be cold?” 

“I’m home now. Plus, purple looks nice on you.” Giuk made sure to smile cutely as he said it.  

Hyungu let out a little laugh, clutching the soft material between his fingers.  

“Giuk.” A sterner voice called, and he snapped his head towards his mother rapidly. She was still in her work clothes, grey blazer and white shirt, her heels clipping against the pavement when she got closer to them.  

“I wasn’t late.” He already tried to plead.  

Her eyes narrowed, but she wasn’t frowning yet. Sadly, her gaze was settled on Hyungu alone. Luckily, Hyungu was the more presentable out of his two new friends. Harin had the denim jacket and curly hair; his shirt was almost always untucked. Hyungu was a bit more of a rule follower than Harin, and so his shirt was ironed, and his tie was neat. The only thing she may not like was the guitar on his back.  

“I know. Is this your friend?” 

Hyungu bowed. “I am Kang Hyungu. It’s nice to meet you.” 

His mother was impressed by his manners; it was clear. She quirked an eyebrow, but the side of her mouth twitched upwards. “Why do you have my son’s scarf?” 

“I gave it to him, so he wasn’t cold walking home!” Giuk jumped in quickly.  

“Good boy. It’s nice of you to look after my son and walk him home. Your parents must be waiting for you, too. You should get back now.” 

“Of course, thank you, Mrs Lee. May I ask a question before I go?” 

“I suppose.” 

“Could Giuk come round mine for dinner next week? We have a phone and so he can let you know he arrived safely, and we will take him back too. I will feed him well.” 

Giuk’s mother stared Hyungu down, from his brown hair to his shiny shoes.  

“Very well.” 

He had never been around someone’s house like that before. Dongmyeong and Dongju had visited them once, when their parents had to go back home for a bereavement, and the boys were just a bit too young to accompany them. Giuk had enjoyed their company, shared their toys and added a little colour to his otherwise bleak home. But then they had gone back to their bright walls and left him with the monotone. The days leading up to his dinner at Hyungu’s house, he spent in barely contained excitement. He had ever put a little countdown in his room.  

"Harin will join us after he’s done his chores. He only lives a few minutes away from me.” Hyungu told him as they began their walk to the former's house on Wednesday. Giuk had brought his bass with him, in case they wanted to mess about.  

“What will we do?” He was practically skipping. Hyungu laughed at his excitement and grabbed his hand to stop him from running ahead. “We can do whatever we want.”

Giuk intertwined their fingers without thinking and started swinging. “I’ve never been around someone’s house before.” 

“Really?” 

“I’ve not had friends before.” He felt safe admitting this now.  

Hyungu scoffed. “How? You’re the coolest guy I know.” 

“Me? What about Harin?”  

“Harin is goofy, don’t let him fool you.” 

“He is a bit goofy.” 

“Plus, you’re so cute!” Hyungu said, tugging him closer by their hands to pinch his cheek.  

Giuk swatted him away. “I’m not cute. I can't be cute and cool.” 

“Says who? Sorry Giukkie, you’re cute. So adorable. Can’t change my mind.” 

Giuk liked being cool, but he let Hyungu call him cute. He didn’t mind.  

Hyungu’s home was soothing. There was a quiet thrumming of life that ran through the entire house, from the thriving plants to the old school radio playing from the kitchen. A young boy was reading on the floor when they came in, muttering the words under his breath.  

“Jingu, say hi to Giuk.” 

The young boy, Jingu, looked up and offered a smile that displayed his missing teeth. “Hello!” 

“Is that Hyungu?” A woman called from the kitchen before she came bustling out.  

Hyungu’s mother was starkly different from his own. She was the embodiment of colour, her cheeks flushed red from cooking and her short hair curling from the sweat. Giuk was enamoured by her ears, several piercings dangling and catching the light. There must have been at least three on each lobe.  

“Hi mama. This is-” 

“-Giuk! Right? Look at you, so cute! Please come in, come in. I’m just making dinner now, but you boys can go play in Hyungu’s room while we wait.” 

Hyungu groaned. “Mama, we don’t play.” 

She waved her hands apologetically, “Oh yes, sorry, sorry. You’re hanging out, being brooding teenagers. Although this one doesn’t quite look old enough. How old are you, dear? 

“I’m twelve, Mrs Kang.” 

“Oh, such a sweetheart. Hyungu may be older than you, but he was born right at the end of the year, so don’t let him push you around too much, hm?” 

“Mama.” 

“Alright, I’ll stop embarrassing you.” 

Hyungu’s room was indicative of who he was as a person, chaos somehow neatly organised so that it didn’t look too messy or overwhelming. There was a towering bookcase in the corner, the book spines all pristine and well cared for. Hyungu owned several guitars, as well as a keyboard set up by his window, a sleek indigo colour that had him transfixed. Hyungu did not own a real drum kit, but he had one of those electronic kits that needed headphones to hear the noise. Giuk treaded carefully into his space, a place that felt like not of people were invited to.  

Giuk was drawn to the wall. Hyungu noticed. “Oh, my wall. It’s neat, right?” 

Neat was not the right word for it. It was warm, a collage of all the people he loved frozen in time, stuck with patterned tapes of warm oceans, little leaves, moons and stars. Giuk spotted Harin on the wall many times, most of them polaroids taken of each other throughout the years. Giuk could see Jingu on there as a baby, Hyungu’s mother outside in the sun, and a man who he presumed was his father grinning directly into the lens.  

“Very neat,” he agreed anyway. 

“Want a photo?” The boy fetched the Polaroid camera from his desk, holding it up casually.  

They take a few, some of Giuk on his own, standing awkwardly. Others with them both poking at each other in jest. They took one final photograph of them both, genuinely smiling. Hyungu gave him one of them, laughing, and kept the nice one for himself. Giuk watched as he taped it to his wall with daisy-patterned tape, and his heart swelled.  

“What do you want to do?” Hyungu hung his school blazer up neatly, sitting on his bed and patting the space next to him. Giuk didn’t know what they could do once they were there, too afraid that Hyungu might think he wasn’t worth the effort. Giuk liked being in his world, amongst all the things Hyungu thought were important. His purple scarf was folded neatly on the desk chair, he noticed.  

Giuk looked around. “What do you usually do?” 

“I usually play my instruments or maybe read. Sometimes I write songs.” 

“I’ve always wanted to write songs.” 

“Really? We can write together if you want?” Hyungu looked excited, already fetching his notepad and pens. He chucks them all on the floor, glitter gel pens rolling towards his feet.  

Writing with Hyungu was an experience that transcended him. He could feel himself changing, morphing from not just a musician, but a songwriter too. Hyungu was talented, even for a boy; all his songs were filled with metaphors and visual imagery. If Giuk didn’t know he was a reader before, he would have known then. Giuk caught the brief glimpses of some of his writing, many of them dedicated to people. How beautiful it was to be loved by a musician. 

Both of them had gone from sitting to lying on their fronts, feet kicking like wagging tails. Giuk was doodling with the pink glitter pen, little flowers in the margin of the book. “What do you usually write about?” 

“They say the best writing comes from personal experience. I write a lot about my family. One of them is about meeting Harin for the first time.” 

Giuk hummed. “Will you write a song about meeting me then?”  

Hyungu doodled a little heart next to his flower. “Of course I will. I will write lots of songs about you.” 

If only Lee Giuk could have known then that every word Hyungu had said was true.  

“Why did you and Harin want to be friends with me?” 

“It’s as Harin said, we knew what it was like to be the youngest and for people to ignore you because of it. We saw you eating lunch by yourself that day and decided to finally ask. Are you glad we did?” 

“More than anything. Are you glad you asked?” 

Hyungu turned his head, and his smile was blinding. “More than anything.” 

Dinner was a foreign affair to him. Giuk sat under warm yellow light, windows open to let in the cold night air, his meal served on a plate painted softly in unique designs, chipped in places but still usable. Hyungu’s plate was completely different from his, as were everyone else's, mismatched crockery everywhere. Giuk felt as fragile as the porcelain, unexpectedly teary with the unfamiliar environment, his fingers a little shaky when he picked up the chopsticks. Mrs Kang spoke to her boys fondly, and Mr Kang was equally as cheerful and present in the conversation.  

Giuk thought of his own meals, either ate in silence or alone.  

“Giuk, are you enjoying the music academy? Hyungu struggled at first, but now he adores going,” Mrs Kang asked him.  

“Ever since Hyungu and Harin became my friends, I have been enjoying it a lot more.” 

Mr Kang nodded thoughtfully. “I’m glad my son has taken care of you. We need to make sure talent is nurtured, and one of those elements is keeping the talent happy and surrounded by love. What instrument do you play, Giuk?”  

Giuk could play most instruments, but he knew that wasn’t what Mr Kang was asking. Hyungu could play many things, but he was a guitarist at his core.  

“I like bass. It’s what I used in my admissions exam. But I also like guitar. I guess I’m still figuring that out.” 

“Bassists are important but get easily forgotten.” 

“I agree, sir.” 

“I want to play the drums!” Jingu yelled. Hyungu nudged him. “That’s only because you think Harin is cool.” 

“Harin is awesome.” 

Awesome Harin arrived a little later, once dinner was eaten and their stomachs were pleasantly full. He burst into Hyungu’s room without knocking, which Giuk realised was quite common. Harin was getting taller, and so when he ran and tackled them both, it hurt a little, and they yelled in protest as their backs hit the floor. “You’re like a bull!” 

Full of energy, Harin played about with Hyungu’s instruments until he got bored, gravitating to the drum set like he was destined to, messing around with beats. It didn’t take much convincing to get them all playing, Giuk on his bass and Hyungu on his guitar. Playing with them wasn’t like in school, when the classes were in sync and they followed the compositions carefully. This was raw and unfiltered, three calloused hands finding harmony within the space between them.  

By the end, his cheeks were red, and his heart was full. 

Harin said the exact thing that would change their lives. “I’ve been thinking-” 

“Dangerous.” 

“Shut up, Hyungu. I’ve been thinking...what would you guys say to starting a band?” 

A band.  

Giuk had never said yes to something so quickly in his life.  

Chapter Text

to be honest, i was sure of it. right from the start 

giuk – spring, 2012 

Giuk tried to hide the band from his mother for as long as he could. 

It was hard to keep something so important to him from her, but he knew once she found out, she would try and take it away from him. A band was not practical; it was a delusional fantasy that would distract him from his studies. His new life was sneaking into his current one slowly, a crack in the door, a sliver of colour bleeding into his monochrome halls.  

Harin had given him a poster of a few famous Western rock bands, which he had put up in his room silently one night. The polaroid of Hyungu was the first of many photos, joined by a growing collection of memories that will soon blend into a blurry mirage of soft pastels and starry nights. He made sure to firmly close his door every day before leaving, not wanting anyone to taint it. Giuk would learn soon that to be free, he would have to disappoint his parents.  

His first sleepover was in fact not a sleepover, but a business meeting. Giuk arrived at Hyungu’s house on a Saturday morning, brimming with excitement, not just for time spent with his friends but to talk about their band. There was something intimate about being in a band, a connection that was more vulnerable than friendship to him, the baring of his soul with the potential for everyone to see, entrusted with his bandmates first and foremost. Being friends was simple; there were no expectations that the friendship was to shape a career or for their chemistry to be the make-or-break.  

Harin and Hyungu may have been friends first, but they had never found themselves in that territory before. It calmed Giuk to know they were on equal footing for once. 

“Who is going to be the vocalist?” Harin asked the important question, tapping his stick on the mesh head absentmindedly.  

“Can any of us actually sing?”  

“I’m okay. I like rapping.” Giuk wasn’t really concentrating, too busy writing their names in sparkly ink, drawing little icons to represent their roles.  

Hyungu cooed. “Our little rapper.” 

“Maybe we can be a rap rock band!”  

“Do those exist?” Giuk questioned, adding little hearts next to all their names. “Hyungu, can you pass me the purple?”  

“Probably! Imagine how metal we can get as a rap rock band?”  

“Are we a metal band then?” Hyungu moved all the pens, so they were in Giuk’s reach.  

Harin frowned. “No. Maybe. A rap/metal/rock band?” 

“I think that is a bit too messy.” 

“Okay, so just rap rock?” 

“Sure. Rap rock.” 

“I’m the lead vocal?” Giuk finally looked up, only just realising the weight of his new role.  

“Lead rapper,” Harin corrected.  

“Right. Okay." Giuk drew a microphone next to his little bass and decided he kind of liked it.  

Hyungu helped Giuk colour in his guitar, the wet ink shining under the sunlight, settling into a purple shimmer that stained his fingertips and left smudges on his skin. “We should write our own songs too.” 

“That’s a good idea. We should have a signature look.” 

“What do rap rock bands usually look like?” 

“Piercings?” Harin held his two lobes with his fingers, and Hyungu winced. “No?” 

“I don’t want to put holes in my ears. Maybe I could dye my hair?” 

Harin pointed at his friend excitedly, and they both began to smile manically. “Yes! Let’s dye our hair! What colour?” 

“Well, I think for now I should just go black.” 

“I might go red.” 

“Red? The school will send another letter home to your parents.” 

“It won't be bright, like an auburn colour.”  

Harin reached down from the desk chair to high-five Hyungu. Slowly, both looked at him expectantly. Hyungu tugged at his hair. “Giuk?” 

“My mother will kill me if I dye my hair.” 

“What about a piercing?”  

Giuk thought about Hyungu’s mother, who had a few pretty piercings in her ears, and how he couldn’t take his eyes off them before.  

“Don’t you need to be eighteen to get a piercing?” 

Harin moved to the mirror, tugging at his hair and moving his face from side to side. He made eye contact with Giuk through their reflections. “Not if you go with a parental guardian.” 

Giuk levelled him an unimpressed look. “If she won’t let me dye my hair, do you really think she will take me to get my ears pierced?” 

“Touche. Your father?” 

“He’s too scared of my mother to do something like that.” 

“Is she ruling your house with an iron fist or something?” Hyungu laughed, but it also had a hint of pity in it, and Giuk bristled at the thought. He didn’t need pity, and he didn’t need anyone to feel sorry for him, especially not Hyungu and Harin. 

“She just doesn’t like that kind of thing.” 

“But it’s not her ears.” 

“But it’s her permission.” 

Harin frowned and then gasped in delight. He moved so quickly that Giuk didn’t have time to think, the older boy taking hold of his earlobe and examining it. “Maybe we can do it?” 

Without mercy, Giuk pushed him away, holding his hands over his ears so no one could even think about it. “I am not letting either of you put holes in my ears! I’ll get an infection and die!” 

This made the two burst into giggles, and Harin, who had woken up and chosen to embody his evil side that morning, advanced towards Giuk again. “You wouldn’t die. Come on, Giuk, let me pierce your ears.” 

“No! Hyungu, save me!” Giuk thrashed as Harin took hold of his ankles, hurling his body towards Hyungu, who, despite laughing manically, took hold of his shoulders and hauled him closer, trying to keep Harin away with his feet. “Don’t scar our lead vocal!” 

“It will be fun!” Yelled Harin before crushing both of them with his body weight, sending them toppling to the floor. Giuk felt the pain in his back instantly, but he relished it; it did not stop him from laughing, overjoyed for those brief few seconds. There, on the wooden floorboards of Hyungu’s bedroom, he was free. He wasn’t shackled to his house made of hollow smiles and closed doors. He wasn’t trapped in his room, waiting for his sister to like him, for his father to want to talk to him, for his mother to understand. There, he was a part of something more. 

He was the bassist, the rapper, a friend. 

The more taste he had for freedom, the more he yearned for it. He wondered how long it would take before he was chasing it without wanting to look back.  

“Maybe you can get clip-on earrings?” Harin continued after they moved to the kitchen, after their stomachs started to rumble.  

“Who is getting clip-on earrings?” Mrs Kang asked, placing the bowl of snacks in front of them. 

Harin, who had no qualms with eating and talking at the same time, smiled brightly at her. “Giuk!” 

“No, I’m not. If I’m piercing my ears, I want the real deal. Mrs Kang, when did you get yours done?” He blinked up at her, curious.  

“Not until I was at least twenty-two, dear. Are you thinking of doing that, Hyungu?” 

“No, Mama.” 

“If you ever do, let me know and I can take you to get them done.” 

“What about dyeing my hair?” Hyungu was purposely acting sweet, but with how laid-back Mrs Kang was, Giuk didn’t think he was going to have much of a problem. For a minute, he wondered what it would be like to have Mrs Kang as his mother. If Giuk didn’t need to keep his door shut in order to keep his identity in, if he didn’t need to be seen and not heard, if the bass he played could be an echo in the rest of the house rather than the confines of his room. But then came the guilt swirling deep in his gut. Giuk had to look away from her.  

She ran her hands through Hyungu’s hair, her features falling softly into fondness. “What colour?” 

“Black?” 

“Okay, I can do that for you.” 

Hyungu lit up. “Really?” 

“Yes. You’re a good boy, and it’s not like you’re asking to dye it something outrageous like bright blue or pink.” 

“Can you dye mine too, Mrs Kang?” Harin tried.  

She levelled him a stare. “Nice try. Not unless your mother gives permission.” 

Harin opened his mouth, response at the ready, but Mrs Kang held up her hand. “Verbal permission.” 

“Shit.” 

“Language!” 

“Sorry, Mrs Kang.” But Harin didn’t seem that sorry, and Mrs Kang didn’t seem that angry. 

Giuk found it hard to sleep that night. They were all cramped into Hyungu’s room. Giuk gifted the bed as the youngest, while Harin and Hyungu camped out on the floor, surrounded by fluffy pillows and plushies. It may have been the silence of the night that crept around them, or the conflicting thoughts he had all day, but the reality of his new situation dawned on him at almost midnight in the Kang House. 

He wondered if he was out of his depth. Harin and Hyungu had only known him for a few months, and even though they had spent almost every day together since, Giuk was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was waiting for them to turn around and realise he wasn’t worth this effort or wasn’t the right fit for the band. Giuk wasn’t from warmth like them; his home was cold and insular. He feared that in the quiet contemplation of night, they would realise the mistake and come morning, Giuk would just be an annoying kid they needed to get rid of. That they couldn’t afford to have the hauntings of someone else’s life in theirs.  

The sadness clogged his throat before he could stop it; there was a prickling in his eyes that stung the longer he tried to put it off. Giuk didn’t want to alert anyone to his sudden wave of melancholy. He tried to sniffle quietly, into the duvet that smelt of Hyungu’s fruity shampoo and a little like the wood of his guitar.  

“Giukkie?” He heard Hyungu whisper from the shadows, his voice stuck somewhere in the pale glow of the moonlight.  

When Giuk tried to talk, all that came out was a strangled sob.  

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hyungu soothed, which made him cry more, because he wasn’t a crybaby. He wasn’t.  

There was a dip in the bed behind him, a hand gently finding his shoulder. “Are you homesick?” 

Quite the opposite. “No.” 

“Oh? What is it?” Hyungu shook his shoulder a bit, trying to get him to turn around.  

Giuk refused and instead whispered his confession to the wall. “I’m scared you guys will realise you don’t like me.” 

“What? Giuk, I can’t hear what you’re saying.”  

Snapping, he sat up abruptly. In the darkness, he couldn’t quite make out Hyungu’s face, but Giuk could tell he was frowning. Hyungu didn’t move, but when he adjusted to the dark and saw Giuk’s tears, he reached out to wipe them away.  

Harin was still fast asleep, so he remembered to keep his voice down. “I’m scared you two will wake up and realise you don’t like me that much, and I’ll lose you.” 

“Why would you think that?” 

It wasn’t until he was asked the question that he realised he had no answer. “I-I don’t know.” 

“Silly Giuk,” Hyungu ruffled up his hair, not as aggressive as usual but soft, like he was fragile. “We like you. I don’t agree to be in a band with just anyone, you know.” 

He sniffled, wiping at his eyes. “But I’m younger than you. Won’t you guys get embarrassed by being friends with a kid? Harin is fourteen in a few weeks.” 

“So? What does age matter when you’re the best bassist around? I’m not fourteen until November, so there is only really a year between us anyway. Don’t age me up so quickly. I even gave you my favourite pick. That’s basically a declaration of love.” 

That made Giuk laugh, a watery chuckle. “Shut up.” 

“Seriously, Giuk, we like you. Friends for life, yeah?” Hyungu then held out his pinkie finger, and Giuk wrapped his around it, solidifying every promise they would ever make. It was the beginning of many promises. 

“What are you two giggling about?” Harin muttered, stirred from his deep sleep by the murmur of their voices. Giuk quickly wiped away the remaining tears.  

“Your stupid face,” Hyungu quipped back. “Move over.” 

“Why?” Harin moaned, rolling away from the middle of the air mattress.  

“Giuk is going to join us.” 

“I am?” 

“Yeah, come on Giukkie.” Hyungu wasted no time, grabbing Giuk’s hand and pulling him out of the bed, manoeuvring him so that he was tucked in between him and Harin. It was a bit warm, being sandwiched between two growing boys and their limbs, but Giuk did not move all night.  

The sleepovers increased, and Giuk found that he spent more time at Hyungu’s home than his own. When they weren’t at school in practice rooms, they were sprawled on his bedroom floor writing lyrics, and when they weren’t there, they were outside in the streets, riding bikes and in game cafes. Giuk was spending less and less time in his quiet home, rushing out in the morning and not arriving until late at night.  

His mother had given up on the old curfew. Before he could rush out one morning, she held out her hand.  

“Here,” she said.

Giuk blinked at it. “A watch?” 

“It’s so you know when to be back. Be back before nine.” 

He smiled brightly at her. “Nine?” 

Gayeon scoffed from the staircase. “Nine? I had to be back by six every day until I turned eighteen.”  

Their mother did not stop staring at Giuk when she answered his sister. “Yes, but you were a good girl and never wanted to stay out later.” 

What his mother did not know was that this new curfew gave him more time to realise how different he was from them. Giuk already knew he wasn’t his parents, but he thought he was at least connected to them a little. He loved his mother despite her severity, and he loved his father even when he wasn’t there. But being friends with Hyungu and Harin made him realise there was more to love than that. They knew him more than his parents did by that point.  

Harin turned fourteen in the spring, and they went to the arcade. Giuk remembered that spring as neon lights and candy floss, sticky fingers and pressing buttons. Nothing would be as bright as the colours of the arcade back when he was twelve, watching them bounce off his friend's face and sparking in their eyes, smiles endless. Harin turned fourteen, and they clambered into the photobooth, just three boys and a few seconds between each flash. Harin turned fourteen and dyed his hair red, the dye staining the bath and his skin.  

“You’re back after nine,” Gayeon said when Giuk returned.  

Automatically, he looked for his mother. Gayeon waved her hand. “She went to bed early. You got away with it, as usual.” 

It was rare for Gayeon to be studying anywhere other than her room. She looked tired, face bare and hair up. Giuk repressed the urge to tell her she looked pretty; he always thought she looked pretty when she was like this, but he knew she would scowl at him. Gayeon took after their father, inheriting his sharp nose and strong eyebrows. But they shared their mother’s smile, the only feature that connected them. Gayeon was fiercer than their parents gave her credit for, strong-willed and diligent. He often feared her presence as much as he craved it. In a rare moment of bravery, he wandered towards her, sitting at the other end of the table. All they had was the dim overhead light to accompany them, the rest of the house dark and sleeping.  

She didn’t look up from her books. “What do you want?” 

“I went to the arcade today.” He spoke, a lack of anything better to say.  

She laughed humourlessly. “Good for you.” 

“What did you do today?” 

“What did I do?” She didn’t stop her writing, “I studied Giuk. That’s all I ever do.” 

For the first time, he wondered if Gayeon even liked being in school. She was smart, she got into good universities, but her fingers must ache from always writing. “Do you actually like your course?” 

This was the wrong move. Gayeon looked up at him with so much fury that he wished he had never sat down. “Do I like it? Of course I don’t like it.” 

To Giuk, this made no sense. At twelve, he was more one-dimensional, and he didn’t understand the complex politics of success. He didn’t understand that, as the eldest, Gayeon felt a suffocating responsibility to provide honour to her family, and that when Giuk fell into music, she fell even deeper into academics to compensate for his distraction. “So why are you doing it?” 

“Don’t worry about it, Giuk.” 

What she didn’t say was that if Gayeon stopped studying, Giuk would be slowly pulled away from music. He would be expected to pick up the pieces she had dropped.  

“I like your nails.” Her nails were the one colourful thing about her, a pale pink colour that reminded him of blossoms.  

Gayeon finally looked at him with something other than contempt. Not quite anything else either, but something. “Thank you.” 

summer, 2012 

That summer was different. 

Giuk used to spend his summers alone. He became well acquainted with the step outside his door, listening to the cicadas and the Son twins laughing from their room. Giuk sat there and watched the world, playing his bass and waiting. Waiting for the sun to rise and then set, waiting for the twins to return from their bike rides so he could talk to someone, waiting for the lilac dust to settle into deep night. He waited and waited, not knowing what he was waiting for.  

That summer, he didn’t need to wait.  

Giuk left early most mornings. He would cycle to Hyungu’s when the sun was still cool enough that he wasn’t sweating, his bass heavy on his back. Mrs Kang would always let him in, often shoving glasses of cold water in his hand to make sure he was hydrated. The Kangs liked going places in the summer, taking road trips to the lake or to a park, making sure they soaked up every ounce of sun they could. Giuk sometimes joined them, and sometimes they would stay behind and do their own thing. He got used to the sight of Hyungu’s white curtains softly ruffling in the breeze. 

“Mama, why do we have to go?” Hyungu whined.  

Mrs Kang was packing the bags, premade food all in Tupperware containers with endless amounts of cold drinks. She was dressed in an orange and yellow summer dress that Giuk thought was incredibly pretty, a perfect manifestation of summer. Jingu watched her, perched on the counter and swinging his legs. 

“Because I said so. It is nice for you to get some culture outside of your music.” 

Giuk nudged Hyungu. “It will be fun!” 

“Don’t side with her, Giuk. We need to be a united front.”  

“You’re so dramatic, Hyungu,” Harin added his two cents from the sofa. 

“Take it from me boys, don’t argue with her.” Mr Kang appeared from nowhere, four hats and a bottle of sunscreen in his hand.  

“What is that for?”  

Mr Kang smirked at Hyungu, and without warning, pounced. Hyungu yelled, but ten minutes later, all four boys had a thick layer of sunscreen smeared all over, their skin sporting a ghostly sheen, hats pushed onto their heads despite the ugly colours. Giuk knew Hyungu didn’t want to go, so he didn’t confide in him that he liked doing these things. Mr and Mrs Kang had an ability to include him and Harin in activities without it feeling intrusive, like they were extensions of the family. Mrs Kang didn’t blink as she patted all their cheeks affectionately. Mr Kang did not falter, ushering them all onto the train. Neither of them minded paying for all their entry tickets to the art museum.  

Despite his earlier protests, Hyungu enjoyed the art museum. He brought his camera with him, snapping shots of anything that he liked, which was a lot. Giuk noticed Mrs Kang smiling happily at her son's enthusiasm, leaving him to explore while she guided Jingu around.  

Giuk lost them at some point. Mr Kang assured him before they started that the whole point of museums was to get lost in them, to lose sense of the crowd and follow your own voyage. He hadn’t known what he meant, but after getting drawn into different pieces and slowly breaking away from the group, he understood. Art was different for everyone; they all found wonder in different styles. 

At one of the paintings that Giuk gathered around, two men were standing just next to him, talking quietly to one another. Fleetingly, he saw them connect their hands. The moment was so brief he wondered if it existed at all, but Giuk then saw the way they looked at each other and found that he was more intrigued by them than the painting. He couldn’t look away but didn’t know why.  

“Giuk, there you are!” Hyungu’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, and his gaze fell from the two men. Whatever it was he had found there was gone.  

“Sorry, I got a bit distracted.”  

“Do you like this one?” Hyungu pointed to the painting. Giuk looked back at it and realised the two men had left. Distantly, he nodded.  

Hyungu snapped a photo of it. “There, now we can print it off and you can keep it forever. Let’s go into the next room?” 

After the museum, they strolled the crammed streets, sweaty and tired. Jingu kept complaining about his legs, so Mr Kang let him sit on his shoulders, a little lighthouse in the polluted city. Giuk didn’t like all the crowds in Seoul; he much preferred the less-busy streets back in Suwon. It was too hot and too bright to be jostled, and Giuk could feel himself getting swallowed up by the crowd. At some point, Hyungu grabbed his hand and kept him close.  

On the train ride home, they ate ice lollies, the city whizzing them by as syrup dripped down their fingertips. Jingu fell asleep in his father's arm, Harin fell asleep on his shoulder, and Hyungu drifted off with his head on the window.  

“Did you have a nice day, Giuk?” Mrs Kang asked him quietly. Over the horizon, the sun was setting, burnt orange and pretty pink blended like the watercolour paintings he had seen earlier.  

“I did, thank you again.” 

“Oh, you don’t need to thank me, dear. I'm glad you have become friends with those two,” she nodded towards Harin and Hyungu, the former snoring just a little.  

“Have your parents been okay with you spending so much time away from home?”  

He nodded. “They’re fine with it.” 

Even though she didn’t show it on her face, he knew this confused her.  

-----------  

“What about pets?”  

“I’ve never had a pet.” 

“School?” 

“Too simple.” 

“What about love?” 

Giuk looked up from the notebook, his pen faltering. The park was quiet around them, the sun slowly falling below the buildings, the moon climbing into the sky. Summer evenings provided a nice breeze that cooled them, and all the screaming kids were being called him by their parents. Giuk and Hyungu could stay until the streetlights went on, giving them time to linger in between the night and day, dwelling in the dusk. 

Hyungu looked out at the sunset, his gaze calm.  

“Love?” Giuk asked, his voice quiet and contemplative.  

“Yeah, like being in love.”  

“But I’ve never been in love,” he admitted, frowning at his notebook and all the swirly doodles. They were trying to write a song, a proper song, which they had slightly neglected most of the summer.  

“Neither have I.” 

“Then how are we going to write about it if we’ve never experienced it?” Giuk craned his head up to peer at Hyungu, still lying on his stomach. 

Finally, Hyungu looked at him. “Maybe we can write about what we think being in love will be like?” 

Giuk, for all he had learnt and all he knew, didn’t understand. It must have been evident on his face because Hyungu smiled in sympathy, shifting his position so he mirrored Giuk, their heads close together and feet knocking against one another's.  

“When I fall in love, I think that will be it. I think I will love that person forever and never stop.” 

“Isn’t that what always happens?” 

“No, some people fall in love lots of times. My parents weren’t each other's first loves.” 

“Oh,” Giuk was surprised by this. “Mine were.” 

“I think Harin will be falling in love all the time,” Hyungu said as another example. Harin was currently on his first-ever date with a girl from the academy, a fellow drummer he had been infatuated with for months. Before her, it was the girl from the games cafe. Giuk found the whole situation rather amusing, but when he discussed it with Hyungu, it suddenly felt very serious. He had never thought about his new friends falling in love and getting girlfriends.  

Giuk tried to think about girls and crushes, but his mind couldn’t conjure up anything.  

“Do you think he’s already in love?”  

“Maybe. What about you, Giukkie?” 

He thought of his parents, first loves who no longer spoke to one another. Giuk didn’t really know if they were in love or if they were just comfortable, but he had never thought to ask. He had seen their wedding photo many times, hung up on the wall in the living room. His mother was young and bright, her hair longer than he’d ever seen it. His father was smiling, a rare sight, and they both held each other. The frame collected dust. 

“I don’t know. Perhaps I won’t ever fall in love. Perhaps no one will love me back, that can happen, right?”  

Hyungu shoved his shoulder when he said this. “Giuk, don’t be silly. People will be fighting for your affection.” 

“Is that what you want to write then? About love?” Giuk started a new page. 

“I think we should write the first half of a song about what we think being in love will be like. And then, when we do fall in love for real, we can write the rest of it. Like a musical time capsule.” 

“You’re so clever,” he praised.  

Giuk wrote down some ideas, while Hyungu messed around with the daisies peppered in the grass around them. He wasn’t sure what the older boy was doing, but it was peaceful.  

“For you,” Hyungu sang when he was done, placing a flimsy daisy chain that he had woven into a crown on his head.  

“Do you think we’ll become a real band?” Giuk passed the notebook over to Hyungu to begin his lyrics.  

“We are a real band.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I do. I can’t imagine a future that isn’t us three on a stage.” 

“Singing about falling in love,” Giuk smiled.  

Hyungu flicked his nose. “Rapping about falling in love.” 

“All of Harin’s girlfriends will be in the crowd.” 

“And your soulmate will be there too,” Giuk teased, flicking Hyungu right back.  

“Hey! I didn’t tell you that in confidence for you to make fun of me!” They were both giggling by then, Giuk dodging out of Hyungu’s line of attack, fighting until their hits and kicks were nothing more than little shoves, falling into each other’s sides with rosy cheeks. The breeze dropped, a little chill on his bare arms, but the warmth of his friend next to him kept him laughing.  

Eventually, the streetlights flickered on, and they walked back to Hyungu’s. Mrs Kang fed them warm food and sweet treats, making sure they kept the noise down as Jingu slept. Together they decompressed in front of the TV as Giuk grew tired. As his eyes fluttered shut, he dreamt of stage lights and crowds, a crowd full of all the people he loved and would come to love, and the blurry image of someone else stood amongst the masses. This would be a dream he would have often, the dream of a faceless person amongst the crowd, someone he desperately needed to figure out.  

Giuk vaguely registered lifted, and a woman whispering to someone about putting him in the car. Giuk was handled gently, buckled up, head falling to rest on something sturdy. A car hummed to life.  

At some point, a hand came to card through his hair. Although he knew it wasn’t his mother, he distantly wished it was, back when she did these things for him.   

“Is he okay?” Mrs Kang asked, breaking through the fog of his dreams.  

“He’s fine, just sleepy,” that was Hyungu, the one he was sleeping against.  

“He’s a nice boy. I’m glad you made friends with him. He seems happy with you two; you treat him well.” 

“He’s our best friend now, Mama, of course we do.” 

“I know, sweetheart...he is special to you, isn’t he?” 

“Yes. I want to be his friend until we’re old like you.” 

“Very funny. I worry sometimes...he spends so much time with us. Surely his parents want him home?” 

“His family isn’t like ours, Mama, they don’t talk. They are away all day working anyway, and his sister is eighteen with her own life.” 

“Bless him. I will never understand parents who don’t enjoy the company of their children.” 

There is quiet, and Giuk felt sadder knowing he was nearing home.