NeoNara || TXT || taebin || yeonkai

2013: Friday, Part Two

2013, DAY ONE
Friday, August 16, 2013 1:02 PM

"Do you need to clean up your gear?" Soobin asks.

The DJ glances back and nods, and Soobin catches a familiar look in the DJ's eyes. Beomgyu's never had that look, but Soobin's seen it on Kai and Shelly's faces plenty of times. It's that look of disappointment when nobody shows up for your gig, the embarrassed-to-the-point-of-mortified look that says get me out of here. Except in New York City, it very specifically means: get my stuff torn down, get me a cab, get me home, and get me a drink.

And if Soobin was the only audience member, the least he can do is help clean up. He's helped Beomgyu and Waeng a zillion times. He knows how to wind an XLR.

"How about you unplug everything and give me your cables," he says, hoisting himself onto stage.

"That would be super helpful, actually. I had help that was gonna come, but she backed out at the last minute." The DJ huffs, then turns to Soobin. "Name's Terry, by the way." And as Terry extends his hand for a handshake, Soobin is hit with a strange feeling, a wave of culture shock that he hasn't felt since arriving at JFK two years ago.

"You're Korean," he blurts out.

Terry blinks in confusion, and then, "Yeah, I guess."

Soobin goes to say something else, but doesn't. Terry looks familiar. He looks like home. It's the same facial features that he's used to seeing in Ansan. But Terry speaks and acts like an American. He shrugs it off the best he can. He has a million questions to ask, but now isn't the time. Besides, they might not even be his questions to ask.

So, he shifts focus. "Okay, so, the cables."

"Right." Terry rips out cables at the speed of light, and Soobin grabs them as he goes. The cables already have Velcro attached to them, so Soobin makes a circle and lets the cable roll up, following where the copper wants to go. He lines up the Velcro and secures them, putting them in a row.

Terry glances over and sees Soobin's cord stack. "You've done this before."

"Oh, I have a friend who's playing on Saturday -- their band is. I do this kind of stuff for them all the time." Soobin stacks the cords together. "Where do these go?"

"Just back to my RV."

It jogs Soobin's memory. "Oh -- you know where the RVs are? Because I actually -- the funny thing is -- I got here from the city, and I got lost, and I found your set, but I was actually looking for the RVs because my friends are there, and I need to find them, and --"

Soobin is interrupted by the music that is Terry's laughter. "No, you're okay. I just -- I guess I'm surprised that someone actually showed up." He shrugs. "Like, who goes to a set at twelve o'clock in the afternoon on day one?"

"Apparently me." They both laugh. "I'm Soobin, by the way."

"Soobin." Terry says the name with a short ĭ, instead of an ee sound. Soobin forgives him for now. "Who are your friends that are playing? I don't know anybody else here. I'm just here by myself."

"Oh -- " Soobin forms a plan. "Let's get all of your gear back into your RV, and then we'll meet up with them at theirs. If you don't know anybody, you might as well meet them."

For a moment, Terry almost says no. But then he relents. He's earned himself a new friend in Soobin anyway. Maybe his set wasn't a complete flop. "Okay, I guess." And then he whips his double decks under his arm, reaching for the cables with the other.

Soobin grabs them. "Nuh-uh, I got these. It's my payment for you showing me the way to the RV campground."

"Couldn't you have just called your friend?" Terry asks as they walk off stage and down the steps to the grass, finally free from the embarrassment of having (nearly) no audience.