KIM BONA
It's two in the morning and I am still right here—the places in the big city where we were unconditionally spreading our pure love in unlimited skies. The places where we were truly ourselves and so much in love.
The places where we stopped remembering that we were on the earth for a while.
I am right here, sitting on a bench in front of the Hockey Arena in the two goddamn morning. Surely, it's freaking cold and lonely, though there're still some folks wandering around up at night. I am still alone. Not just alone on this bench. I am too alone in this big city.
The crosswalk, I am looking at. Well, I've been looking for the last few hours, though. I see him and I see me—we kissing there. How sweet and sincere of his kiss that he gave me on that crosswalk has planted in my heart. It was the best romantic kiss ever. Although it made us get caught, I know there're few things never give away. Our love was how we could keep breathing right then. Our love was our home.
I have seen people walking around and crossing that crosswalk. Some come alone. Some have company. Some stop on the footpath or the crosswalk and kiss their lovers. And then some walk past me without noticing.
Without noticing that I am crying.
I'm glad no one sees me. I am not supposed to be spotted right straight with this look. Ugly inaudible crying. So I decide to wear a mask in the city where people think it's weird to wear it, despite of Korean people are commonly fond to cover their half faces underneath their own masks while they're in public. I once used to hate to wear it, but now I don't anymore. Mask helps my sad spot. Crying in public is miserable and quite humiliating, but if you used to cry a lot in the same walls, same roof for a long time, you know me now—we need to fucking go outside, wander around and cry. Cry cry cry. First things first, when I want to be under the open sky and blast out tears, I put a mask on to cover up my ugly mouth when I'm sobbing and use it like a rug smearing my teardrops. Secondly, I lower my head a bit to use my bangs and ponytail to cover my blotchy face. Thirdly, I just start doing it...to wear a sunglasses on. Now I can cry in public and look less miserable.
But just so you know, when your face is too soaked and your nose is hard to sniff from being cried for a moment, I eventually have to take stuff off and clear off my messed up face. I can't always hide my sadness from covering up with stuff, and I can't lie myself that I am not crying either. This secret trick of hiding my shotted sadness is just temporary. My own self already knows the best trick I am supposed to do is drying my eyes out and getting rid of being traumatic.
It's the fact. No one can be sad forever.
But the other fact also tells...happiness is hard to find. So what the hell do we do to stop being down when there's less happy dryer for drying sad tears?
"Hey, girl. Everything OK?"
And daydreaming is suddenly broken as I squint at the red converse standing over my shoes. I then look up and there's a middle-aged woman. I begin to greet her back kindly but when I see a bible that he's holding against his chest, I know I couldn't let her accompany me.
"Sorry but I am not interested in religion," I simply say and get up from the bench.
And she breaks me off by confronting me. "Hey. Hey. Chill out. I'm not forcing you into religion. I just worried you obviously look...you know, kinda down," she stutters at the mid sentence.
I'm wearing a mask and sunglasses. Does she still see how I am? I scratch my neck in dilemma, and then politely snap, "Thank you for your kindness, but I'm doing fine."
"No, you clearly are not." She's instantly outstretched over me when she sees I'm taking off. "Listen. I get what you're feeling, dear, you're lonely and upset with how the world treats you. I've been down this road before. But you should know, God's always beside you. He's with you, no matter what."
I know she knows that I'm annoyed since I exhale sharply in front of her. "You just said to me that you're not forcing me into religion," I tell her, trying my best to keep my tone calm.
"I am not. I'm just telling you the truth. Listen, girl. You are who I was years ago. I see my old self in you, wandering around the city in the middle of the night, trying not to be noticed as you're crying."
I pull my coat further around myself and secretly chuckle. "I'm really thankful for you, but I still resist. So sorry. You're not me, you don't know what I've been through. Goodnight," I spit and begin to walk away. Then, she reaches out a small card towards me.
"You're right. I am not you. I don't know how you're dealing with the cruel obstacles by all yourself. But if you have some spare time and want to vent your unsolvable problems, this's the small church nearby here. There are lots of people who always can listen to you and share stories with you. You can come whenever you want. No charging and free food."
She smiles honestly as reaching me a card, and when I look at her closely, I just notice that she doesn't look older than me that much. Apparently, she seems just few years above me.
Granted, I decide to take the card from her and raise it above my head, as if I'm telling her you've got me, okay? She says thank you and then we separate to our each ways.
* * *
"So this is the pictures I've been drawing lately? What'd you think, Daisies?...Honey?...Daisies?"
I totally flinch when Dad taps my arm like he just woke me up from daydreaming. "Yep. Sorry. I lost in my mind. What did you just say?" I clap my hands onto my skirt, adjusting myself on the bench to look at him particularly.
"Uhh...nothing. It's just some pics, you know." Dad scratches the side of his neck, stuffing drawing papers together and I sort of feel bad for him.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to ignore you," I apologetically confess and take a quick glare on my watch to remind me I don't have tons of time to live with him.
We're sitting on the bench beside the canal next to the prison building, and there are few prison officers been keeping eyes on us from ten feet apart. Sort of less than thirteen minutes, these guys are going to rush their feet up and take my dad back inside, but I was just wasting time for minutes to overthink about useless things while Dad was showing how he's doing. I feel such a bad daughter. I better focus on him and spend time with him as much as I could.
"It's okay, honey. We have more time to talk. Maybe tomorrow I could show you more about my drawings. You're going to come here everyday, aren't you?" he says and smiles sincerely. I could see he's very happy when I told him that I'm going to visit him every day.
I nod, forcing a smile on. "Sure. I'm back here now. I'm coming to you every day, Dad," I honestly assure him and he grips my hand, excitedly smiling. I gently squeeze his hand and then ask, "Well, you need more crayons or anything else. You know I could pass you everything you need, except illicit stuff," I joke.
He laughs. "Yea. Yea. I better get my ass out of here soon. I shouldn't beat myself to get arrested more longer. My daughter awaits."
"That's my badass Dad. I love you."
Then we giggle at my miserable joke. I plant a small kiss on his cheek.
"I love you, no matter what, you know that right?" he says, almost whispers. I nod as the answer, and then he starts to sit straight, face to face with him. I could see he's literally serious as he says, "Stop crying to yourself, Daisies. I know you're not okay."
What? I instantly touch my cheeks and eyes, just in case I'm crying and I don't know I am because I've currently been like this. But later on, I found out I am not crying. Not at all. I'm still good at hiding my emotions from Dad.
"...Dad...what are you talking about? I'm really okay." I begin to stutter and make a fake laugh as I already know he would never buy it. He knows me damn well, and that's the problem.
He shakes his head, gathering my hands in his. "Daisies, you don't have to pretend everything is okay when it's not. I've raised you since you were born. I might have been not a really good father to take care of you as well, but I get whenever you keep your problem to yourself. I get whenever you're not okay." He gently shoves his fingers into mine and lays one of his hands above ours. Then he adds, so calmly and kindly,
"Are you tired, my Daisies? Tell me you're tired."
And when we share our meaningful eye contact, I know that moment, I can't act chill anymore. It seems like I'm waiting for someone to ask me like this.
I immediately let out of tears that I've been holding them back for a while since I came here to my dad. To not make him worry about me. But he's the best guy in the world who knows every detail of my life, though he always knows that we aren't related. Literally not.
"I'm tired...beyond tired, Dad. So so so so much tired," I confess, sobbing and my voice is shaking until I barely hear my own last word. Then, I add, sniffing, "I'm sorry. I let you see me like this. You would be worried about me."
"Hey. Hey. It's okay. I'm okay, sweetheart. You're my everything. You're worth to be worried." This tone is so much calm and generous. The way he gently wipes my tears out of my face with his thumbs, is the warmest touching I've literally been missing.
"I'm tired," I repeat again. Seems like I finally admit what I have been rejecting to say before, not just Dad but to myself, too. I've been lying to myself that I am not tired. As the matter of fact, I fucking am.
"It's like I'm holding my breath as I'm living in this world. I now can't breathe, Dad," I add, feeling like I'm confessing sin to the priest.
Dad cubs my cheek, and more tears of mine are soaked on his hand. "Don't be, Daisies. You're the bravest girl I ever met. Everything's gonna be alright. It's gotta be," he says and I cling my face to his warm palms. "I know we're running out of time. But can you tell me briefly about what's going on with you?"
I sniff, taking a deep breath, and then shake my head. "I don't know how to begin, Dad. It's...there's a lot going on. I want to tell you every single detail, I swear, but it's too much to describe."
"I understand. I understand, honey," he keeps repeating. He knows this is my most meaningful words for me, especially from someone whom I trust. When they say they understand, you know? If I reckon they might be lying, I still believe them, anyway.
I just need someone. Someone who constantly tells me that they understand. Understand what I've been through even though they didn't walk in my shoes.
"The world outside, Dad. The world without you. It's...it's cruel," I stutter, squinting to the officers and they seem not surprised much. Like they've countlessly seen this kind of moment before. Then, I now can cry my eyes out and speak all of what my heart wants to say.
"I feel like, how much I'm happy, there's the miseries that I have to pay back as much as I get happiness. I've got too much to handle in the same time. I sometimes don't understand why everything has to fall on me all the damn time. There's a thin line between—it's just me doing wrong or it's people doing shits. And I don't know I'm right or I'm wrong. I don't understand why the hell he thinks ending things without explaining the exact reasons is the best way for us. You know? Perhaps he explained clearly and I am too numb to understand? I'm such an idiot. I do not really know any shits."
I rest my elbow on the back of the bench and then put my forehead on my fist, sobbing aimlessly. Dad moves up and wraps his arms around me, giving me his shoulder to be buried by my face.
"Sometimes people make no sense about the way they treat you, Daisies. You have to listen to what your gut speaks, then you'll know there's no right or even wrong. There is just only an another experience of your life that comes to teach you for some reasons.
And one day when you look back at it, you may be thankful for them that it makes you become who you are—becoming a stronger person...not a monster.
I know you're lost in somewhere else. You're upset, you're angry, and you're so sick of this shitty world. But trust me, honey, as long as you don't throw away your good things, it's going to be your day. Not today but some day. You must to wait for it."
He leans into me, gradually patting my hair like the way he used to lull me to sleep when I was a child. No shitty lullaby needed. Just his tender touching and warm embrace, and I'd be peacefully pulled into sleep. It's just like right here, right now. All I want is being stuck in his arms and never wake up again. Never.
I've been searching for my day for my whole damn life, Dad. Maybe death would be easier to find.
And I wish I could say this in his face. But I truly know...I shouldn't. I shouldn't have even thought about that, though.
Dad slowly pushes me back, gripping each of my shoulders and looks at me in the eyes. "Don't you dare think about suicide, Daisies. Let's forget it." Like I told you. He knows me damn well, as if he could read my mind. I begin to be unable to catch my breath as I'm sobbing. Extremely.
And then we suddenly fail to share our light-hearted moment since the two officers behind us rush in and remind us that we officially ran out of time. As if we're being broken apart unreasonably, though Dad and I are not even half of climax. We're still struggling to contact our emotions. Dad secretly lets out a big breath and I could see his eye-rolling through his bloodshot eyes.
The officers lock Dad's arms, one for each, and pulls him up. And I can't help but shake my head, quickly wipe my soaked face with one of the elbow sleeves of my shirt.
I get to my feet and say through my breath, "Be careful to him, please."
"We are," One of them replies, coldly.
"It's fine, Daisies." Dad chins up for me, forcing his smile to me, and I try to smile back even though mine is obviously dry.
"I'm coming back tomorrow," I remind Dad as the third officer arrives from behind and starts to stuff Dad's painting papers on the bench to his arms.
"I'm afraid to tell you that you must to return next week," said an officer who locking Dad's left hand. "There's lots of visitors lately. Then we have to form new rule. Once for a week."
"You've gotta be kidding me." It's Dad saying. My bottom lip drops.
As the officers begin to really pull Dad away from me, I give him another dry smile and gesture to him that it's alright. He looks obviously paranoid as being leaved, constantly flicks a look back at me. I wave for him and try my best to hold tears back.
To be honest, I feel paranoid and sad as much as Dad does. I finally had one who can share my emotion, but it's just temporary. To be cut in the middle like this is so frustrated. I need more. I need to vent aimlessly. There's too many shits on my shoulders. I want to get rid of shittydom.
* * *
Later that evening, after leaving the prison, I detour the apartment and end up here. The St. Thomas More Church. The exact place that a female mormon recommended to me last night.
"Aah, shit. What am I doing here, anyway?" I frown as standing in the doorway, folding the card in my fist.
This is crazy, as if I'm making absolutely no sense. I can't believe that I came back to this damn religion after I've experienced in my whole life. It's like I'm running in the same odd loop.
Religion is just a business. We pay for forgiveness and relief. Eventually, we human need to improvise on ourselves. No one is going to help us, especially God.
"Fuck," I groan and decide to take my leave. Then, the big front door cracks open and there's a blonde old female tightly gripping the door handle. She casually looks up at me as bends down to her stomach. She seems eighties up, I guess. I give her a small grin and bend my head down for her as a greeting and then I turn around to leave.
"Wait up, young lady," said by her. I slowly turn around, scratching the back of my neck.
"Hi," I say, forcing an appropriate smile to her.
Her smile is slowly stretching out on her face, but I could see it's literally sincere and joyful. "Where are you wandering around here, my love? We're having group-counseling inside. Shall you come in and join us?" she says, her back instinctively bends more downwards.
"...ahh..no, thanks. I'm just goofing around. I'm great," I stutter, laugh awkwardly.
"Better goofing around outside, why don't you come in and walk me to toilet? I wanna loo but I hardly walk. Would you please help me, gorgeous?" she says, smiling.
This is totally awkward and like a forcing my hand. I basically can't deny it. However, to be honest, I sort of don't feel regret.
"Umm...yeah. Course." I awkwardly accept her offer, like I take it as a surrender. Then, I appropriately lay my hand on her back and hold her hand against my chest.
"I knew, beauty and brains as you, never says no to an odd old lady," she exclaims, and I chuckle softly as walking her inside.
Inside the church, it's totally like what I knew and pictured. Lots of wooden benches in two rows, making a long aisle into the altar. Normal and peaceful at the same time.
We then walk to the second door on the left of the church. She gestures me for a bathroom, so I twist the door and hold it for her. She steps inside first and I tag along, still holding her hand.
Hang on. When I literally get inside, I found this is not a bathroom. Not even kind.
There's a large hollow room with several chairs circularly placing in the middle room, and obviously, most chairs are occupied. All stranger's eyes are on me.
"You're sure it's a bathroom? 'Cause I don't think—." I begin to curious and be cut off as I hear someone exclaims towards us.
"Oh, Nana. Where have you been? I've waited for you." It's a teenage-looking boy who standing up from a chair by the window.
"Just a little walk, honey," an old lady that I just walked her here replies. Then, I'm in so shock when she walks herself into that teenage boy—so vigorously. A little gasp falls from my mouth. Can I say that I was just hoaxed by an old stranger? I feel being cheated.
Nana (calling like her probable niece), turns around to me and says with her smile, "Come on in, gorgeous. Take a seat. We're looing."
Looing?
A young-looking lady who sits over me, flicks a quick glance at me and then to Nana. "You lied to someone to get them into church again, Laurine?" she says to Nana with her small chuckle, and everyone in the room bursts out laughing. Later on, she goes over me and raises a hand for me.
"Hi, I'm Ruby, a therapist of here. Nice to see you."
"...uhh...yeah, hi. Likewise. I'm Kim, short for Delansey Kim," I mutter and shake her hand.
"Hi, Kim. You look familiar to me, though. But pleasure to meet you. Sorry for Laurine, by the way. She'd love to tell some lost people to walk her to the loo. As the matter of fact, looing of her means a group vent," Ruby says as laughing. She seems a very nice and kind, reminding me of Hyorin.
"That's okay," I reply, still awkward.
"We're kind of starting. Would you like to join us? There's always a chair for you. I'd be so much fun."
"Oh, sorry. I...um..not prefer talking about religion, you know? I better go."
"Please. Don't go just yet." Ruby pats my elbow to stop me. Then she adds, "We're actually not talking about religion, though. We're just sharing our experiences. Just so you know, like a vent problems."
"Uhh..."
"Come on, gorgeous. Let's join us," Nana or Laurine exclaims. I beam at her and then turn back to Ruby.
"But if you don't fancy joining with us, that's fine by us, Kim. We totally understand. You might not feel really being invited," Ruby tells me, kindly.
I rub my forearm a little while, craning over her to peek at the folks in this room. Most of them look at me with their curious look, but not look like a pressure. In fact, they mostly look nice. Some give me a sincere grin and some gestures for me like come on. Let's have fun. Later on, I tell Ruby,
"Actually. I'm kinda invited, though. I met a mormon lady last night. She gave me a card."
"Last night?" Ruby raises an eyebrow, seems to wonder. Then, she elaborates, "You mean, an old woman with a short brown hair, wearing red converse, holding a bible all the time?"
"I think so." I shrug my shoulder.
Ruby immediately puts her hand on her chest, gasping. "Oh, my Lord. That's Lisa. She's died years ago."
I found myself drops a big gasp as exclaiming. "Whaat!?"
Suddenly, Ruby bursts out laughing so hard, holding her stomach. "This joke never gets old."
"..."
"You should see your face right now, Kim. I was just messing with you. The woman that you met last night was Lisa. She doesn't die yet. I'd love playing this joke because she loves goofing around in the middle of the nights." She laughs harder, and I'm still amazed—no, shocked. I've just been gotten with two strangers in one day. What is with these people? I can't help but laugh along with her.
"Where's she now? Is she here?" I ask.
"She's probably in the next room with another group, I guess. Lisa is a therapist like me."
"Oh. That's...cool."
Ruby then eyes me to the people on circular chairs and shrugs.
"So, what do you think?"
I look around the room again and then say, "Well...uhh....sure. Which seat should I take?"
* * *
"See? I told you, Kim. It was fun, wasn't it?" Ruby passionately rushes towards me after the vent activity is officially over, and everyone is taking their leave right through the door.
"Yeah, it clearly was," I reply with a small grin, swinging a strap over my shoulder.
To be honest, it wasn't that bad like I ever expected, even thought I kind of took much of hesitation at first. But after I got through the first impression with new people, exchanging names to other religious ones, I found that it wasn't that hard to make companies with them as I still don't take it seriously. Feels like making new friends, I think. Takes time.
"So what do you do next?" she asks me, patting my elbow appropriately.
"Well, I think I head straight home. I've had a very long day. Can't wait to lie down," I tell her, honestly.
"Good for you. Would you come here again tomorrow? We all will."
"I'll think about it, Ruby," I say, smiling. She nods as an understanding. Like I told you. It takes time, especially about religion stuff.
I then say good bye to her and about to take my leave. In the meantime, a puppy runs into the room, rushes over Ruby. When did the church begin to allow pets to attend here, though?
"Jolie. What are you running here? I told you to stay quiet in the basement," Ruby exclaims excitedly and instantly carries it up to her chest. And my shoulder drops a little when I see Jolie, the dog that she refers, it looks alike Gaho so so much. They sort of seem twins, in my opinion. Maybe they are the same species. Even if Jolie obviously seems smaller and younger, but you know, I literally see Gaho in this one.
"That's adorable. Does the church allow to take a dog?" I appropriately say, walk into Jolie and her. Oh, Gosh. This is pretty baby Gaho.
Ruby rubs Jolie's head adorably. "No, it's literally against the church's rule," she replies, looks up to me. "Unfortunately, Jolie's owner was a Christian here and he's just passed away a month ago. Now, there's no one can take care of Jolie since he had no relatives to inherit, you know? So the church decided to look after her for a while as we're looking for the proper adopter."
"That...that's terrible. But Ruby, why don't you take her? You two look so close," I say, honestly, keep looking to his little cute mini Gaho. I seem unable to compare them. They look so much alike.
Ruby chuckles softly. "Oh, I really wish I could, but my home quite doesn't fit for her. Too bad." She presses her lips together and puts Jolie to its feet.
I kneel down and pet her head gently. Jolie then sits by her two back feet and quietly barks at me.
"Mini Gaho," I say to myself as staring at her, out of Ruby's earshot. I pat her in silence for a while until I hear someone barges in to the vent room and rushes over me.
I look up and then discover that's the woman I met this early morning at the hockey hall. It's Lisa. Red converse sneakers. Still holding a bible on her chest.
"There you are, Jolie. I knew you're gonna be here. The father is coming. You better hide now," Lisa says, carrying up Jolie. Then, she notices me and begins to catch me up. She points her finger at me and exclaims, "Oh, have I met you before? I think I know you."
I chuckle a bit and then confess, "We met around this early morning at the hockey hall. You did give me a card of here."
She tucks her bible and carries Jolie properly as assures herself, "Oh, right. You're the two a.m. girl with sunglasses and a mask. You were so—you know, upset. By the way, you're here. That's amazing!" And we burst into small laughing, and then she studies my face and says, "You look stunning. Damn, you have such a beautiful face. Don't cover it up with stupid things, okay? Show your gorgeous face, and you know, don't frown, don't cry. Smile is the best makeup."
I giggle.
Later on, she cuts off by taking Jolie to hide in another room else. I turn to say one more good bye to Ruby again and finally leave out the side door.
It's six o'clock already as I reach the footpath in front of church, traffic beside my left makes me decide to give up on taking a cab and walk home instead. It's just three blocks away from my apartment. You know, I'm living in the you-already-knew-where apartment since I still have no place else to be owned by myself, and even if GD already transferred that place to me; besides, T.O.P has also forced me to live here since he as well takes such a great care of me. But I still feel that it doesn't really my place, just so you know. And I am trying to look for another place where I can afford by myself and when I already have a steady career, not freelance like this.
"Kimmy?"
A voice I haven't heard for like ages scuttles up my spine. I turn around...and then I instinctively bury my hands in shirt's pockets and begin to speed up my legs to walk away.
"Hey, Kim. Slow down."
Thomas puts his hand up, and another one tugs in his coat. We exchange our quick scanning stare to each other, head to toe. And I can tell he's trying to be easily unnoticed by the way he's wearing a black cap and covering up his head again with the hood of his hoodie.
Then he seemingly steps towards me.
"Stop right there!" This is me announcing, harshly. Thomas's feet immediately join together and his boots make a colliding sound, like a soldier stops marching. "Don't you dare get near me otherwise I'll scream till the cops get you, you hear me?"
He breaks off like I told him to, blankly expression, licking his bottom lip. But mostly he doesn't seem surprised that much, as if he knows this is how I'm going to react after the last time we met—hell, no, we fought actually. Ever since then, we never ever meet again until right now, where I am alone in this city. Damn! Mentally, I start to wish I would have knocked him dead by the vase that I use to hit his damn head, so that we could never see each other again. He's such one of my most nightmares ever.
"Kim, hang on. I am not doing anything to you like that again...ever. I swear."
Who the heck is gonna believe this guy?
He puts his two hands up and carefully walks into me with a bit frightened look in his eyes. Then, he immediately stops taking another step as I harshly gesture him to stay freaking put.
"What the hell do you want from me? Are you stalking me?"
He gasps in surprise and seems a little tense at the same time.
"Of course not. I just saw you in the church, honestly, never expect to see you in there. I thought you...irreligious." His tone a bit shorter at the end.
"I am," I assure him, though I think why I even have to. "Listen. It's not the point. The point is you and me never see again. Never! You should think about what you've done to me and realize yourself that you're such a horny twat, jerk!"
The most death glare of me flashes over my eyes before I quickly keep walking. Thomas takes just a few steps to outpace me as he has such long damn legs. He holds my arm to catch me, and I instinctively flick his hand away. His touching threateningly reminds me of how he used to touch me last time. No, he didn't touch me. He yanked me. I remember...everything. It still keeps haunting me.
Then, I could even see a little flinch of him after getting my tough ever reaction, but just so you know, he freaking deserves it.
He inhales in dilemma and looks at me in the eyes.
"I know what I did to you is unforgivable, and I never expect you to forgive me. I was too high, that's why I treated so irresponsible. I'm fucked up."
"Big fucked up," I correct him.
"Yea. Yea. Big fucked up. I know I am. It ain't mean it doesn't piss me off sometimes." He nods through his sigh, making a small eye-rolling. "But you gotta believe me, I will not do that to you again. I feel terribly sorry about what happened between us, and I promised myself I never see you again until now."
I raise an eyebrow in confusion but then I shrug it off, adjusting my purse straps properly. "Then you should keep promising that to yourself. Please leave me alone," I command and then keep walking.
Being an annoying jerk as he is, Thomas outpaces me again and mostly occupies my way. "Let's just start over, Kim. I need to make it up for you. I want to, particularly."
I hesitate for a moment, looking into his eyes and then I snap, "Fuck.Off. Mind your own business, Thomas. You don't need to pay anything back to me. I've got so much irrecoverable injuries from you already."
"...but I still could help you get into the perfect rebel as you've always wanted," he says, as if he's holding his breath.
I shake my head, insisting. "I literally don't need your help anymore, Thomas. I'll find a new one by myself." I mean it. I really do.
"Kim, please. Give me another chance to make it up for you. And I never ask anything from you again, even if you wouldn't wanna see me again. I'd be okay with it. Just let me help you one last time," he says, raising an arm to break off my way.
"Thomas, I insis..." And I fail to respond when he holds his palm up to me, like a hang on, let's see what I'm doing next look. He digs, fumbles inside his coat and then he puts a small folded paper over me.
"It's your application that you left, I still kept it. Thought I'd send him this for you."
I'm thoughtful for a moment and before I even say anything next, he cuts me off as if he knows I'm going to firmly resist.
"I will not see you again for the rest of my life, if you want me to." he makes a promise as pressing his lips together. "Please take this and pursue your dream. I can't see you leave and I'm yet not doing anything to make it up for you."
Honestly, I want to reject him since he made me feel like he's the last person in the world that I should get related with. But there's a little voice, a gut feeling in me reverb a thought in my head,
This is not happening everyday, Daisies. It's not easy to get a great opportunity like this.
I glance at the folded application in his hand and then look up to his eyes.
It happens once in a blue moon, Daisies.
And then I found myself taking that paper from him and slip it into my jean pocket. Thomas's face obviously lights up as if he's the one who got the offer.
"Thank you. Thank you so much." Not me. It's him saying. He seems too ecstatic.
I nod, coldly. "I'm leaving. That is it?"
He gasps a bit before stutters, "Yes, I guess so."
"Okay. Thanks for bringing my career, by the way," I say, making a detour beside him.
"Wait. Wait." He instantly breaks off. I turn around.
"...you..umm...would you like to get a cup of coffee with me? There's a great café I know around here."
"No," I strongly reply.
Coffee at six? Is he crazy?
He seems totally awkward, rubbing his hands together, breaking eye contact, and looks around instead. "How about we go to a dinner. You know, my trea—."
"No."
And he seems speechless at a moment. So I fold my arms against my chest, squinting at him and pretend like he's such wasting my precious time; which's he actually is doing.
"Okay, then. Where're you living, by the way? I could give you a ride."
Instead of saying the truth about me living in the next three blocks apartment, I decide to recap a little bit about what he just told me.
"You still remember what you told me, right? About you not seeing me again for the rest of your life if I want you to."
And he looks stunned in disbelief—apparently stunned, dropping his bottom lip, as if he absolutely has no idea about it actually coming up from me. For an instant, I see him a little bit nod for himself.
Damn it. Why do I have to feel pity for him, though? Doesn't he deserve not to be allowed to see me again after what he's done to me? He's a jerk. This is the price he has to pay...isn't it?
"OK. I get it." He puts his hands into his pockets and about to step backwards; in the meantime, he looks over my shoulder and his eyes then a little bit go wide open.
I'm turning around to glance at what he's looking at and that's also the head of my way. Suddenly, Thomas dashes into me, grabbing my shoulders not to turn around. I flinch, my nose swoops to his chest.
"There's some paparazzis behind. I thought they won't notice me. Shit!" I hear him saying above my head. Then, he grabs my wrist and pulls me to hide under a tree next to us.
"I guess he still can't see me, but shall not soon," Thomas says, squinting behind me, still holding my wrist.
"Get your hand off of me then," I snap, leaning my back against the tree.
"Oh, right. Sorry." And he does what he's told. "Well, I'm gonna walk him to some alleyway else. You try to be unnoticed, okay? I don't want to get you in trouble if he sees us around here together."
I simply nod. "You seem careful than you were in another city, though." Literally can't help myself to make sarcasm.
He chuckles awkwardly and then steps backwards, taking off his cap and adjusting his hair sloppily. For an instant, my eyes catch a purple tiny scar on his forehead, and I immediately know that's the injury from me—the one that I hit him by a vase.
"Be careful, Kim. I'm so sorry about everything, and I deserve not to see you again," he says with a small grin and gently wears me his cap before I could even rebuff him.
I speechlessly grip the brim of his cap on my head, have no idea how to respond. And he says something I quite really don't understand,
"By the way, I'm not doing this because someone told me to like before, though. This is my choice." He smiles, raising eyebrow, and then pats my head softly. "Bye, Kim. You're always my first crush."
...his first crush?
And he walks past me—outpaces, not hooding his hood up to cover up himself, and I know he does this on purpose. That's why the paparazzi notice him so easily and begin to follow him. Thomas acts like he doesn't want to be taken photos—raising his hand over his face, walking fast almost running to another alleyway like he just told me.
I watch him leading paparazzi until they're all actually out of my sight. In the distance, I decide to glance around me before I take myself out of the tree, just in case there might be some of them left.
And after that...I begin to notice.
Him.
.
.
.
Standing on the footpath opposite the street, and he is watching me. Without words. Without unreadable expression. My heart twists, my spine scuttles up.
.
.
Am I daydreaming? This is a hallucination, right? Why am I seeing GD standing opposite me, in the middle of New York city like this?
In my head, my current hallucinations, he always wears a nice-bright clothes, dyeing his colorful hair, and no matter what whichever fancy color he's going to dye...he always looks stunning and pretty cool. However, there he is, so casually and strangely. All sloppy black—a black cap with a long strap ball that hanging over his navy cashmere coat, a simple grey t-shirt that he seems carelessly to tuck it in his skinny dark pants properly, and there being casual street style with black Vans Old Skool Mule sneakers that he's purposely folding the back of them.
As we're staring at each other across the street like this, I could see that he apparently looks so shabby and exhausted, so I begin to think I'm not daydreaming. He is probably not my hallucinatio—.
"...oppa."
As if it's a blink of an eye. All of the sudden, a few cars and trucks instantly driving up on the street between us, and when the last vehicle goes by...he's gone.
I immediately run across the street and sweep my eyes around the alleyway. Later on, I begin to realize after I found absolute nothing.
It actually was just my hallucination. New phase of his ghost. He is gone, deathly gone. You know, he doesn't actually die. But thinking of him being dead is the best way for me to move on because I believe that no one can ever live with dead people who's disappeared from this world. No one.
* * *
"This is fantastic! I absolutely have no idea why your ex-agency, King Corden, didn't realize he had such an incredible gem in his hand."
A man in a casual suit, who's named Danny Wesflines, sitting on the head chair, passionately exclaims right after I finished singing one of my old songs in the acoustic version.
I smile, mentally nervous, gripping the neck of my guitar on my lap. By the way, this guitar is not actually mine. It belonged to GD in his apartment's mini studio. I tagged it along with me this morning, just in case it might prove my first impressions better towards these acquainted music agencies people. And yes, this guitar quite helps this audition running impressively and I feel totally better not to just only sing along without it.
Got to give a little impress credit to my beloved brother for this. Last night, I Face-Timed T.O.P talking about casual stuff, and I did tell him about me coming to get auditioned in a new rebel, so he once suggested me to sing 'Beautiful Ghost' song in acoustic version. He told I look cool and talented when I'm strumming a guitar. Now I reckon I have to call him back tonight and tell him he's the best brother ever. Honestly, I was so nervous and panicked to do this kind of stuff again. I feel so much butterflies in my stomach. But after I just sang CEO a song and he seems into it, I can't describe how relieved I am.
I'm feeling like I'm already halfway to my lifetime dream.
"You're the princess of lyrics, Kim. I'm your fan for a while, honestly." It's Marco Balvin telling me with his smile, as standing behind Danny. He's the first one I met when I got this rebel minutes ago, and took me to meet Danny. He introduced me as an assistant of here. But you know, he totally looks around my age, maybe few years above, I guess. Anyway, Marco seems obviously nice-going even though we've just known less than half an hour. Nice-talking, very very nice. I don't want to be like I flatter myself, but I think Marco keeps glancing at me even the moment I pretend I don't notice. Well, I take it as a good sign for making new company of here, though.
"Exactly," Danny strongly agrees with Marco. Then, he turns to me, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You know, as I once did listen to your previous songs before, I can tell you're genius at lyrics. Your voice is an absolute silvery sound. But apparently, you've had not too much songs coming out for your whole career. But don't you worry about that, I do understand when you told me that you were cheated by Corden, your many songs wouldda been gone away to be someone else already." He pauses, clearing his throat. Macro secretly winks for me as an encouragement.
"Anyway, after then, I reckon that you probably have written some for yourself. So if you have some demos, would you mind showing one of them for me? You know, to prove my decision about taking you over," Danny casually says, crossing his legs and putting them onto the desk opposite me.
How can I tell him that I have none? I've literally had no demos at all. Yes, surely I've written for a long time, but just so you know, mostly they're all of my boy band—BIGBANG. And writing my own songs has definitely slipped out of my mind. Therefore, I just realize that I didn't particularly write for myself. Well done, Daisies.
"Hey, Danny. I don't think she's ready for yet. Why don't you ask her to sing some more of her old song instead?" I look up and that's Marco speaking to Danny since there's an obvious long pause from me.
Danny looks at me, thoughtfully for a moment. Then, he generously tells me, "It is fine by me, Kim. You don't have to. Your overall already looks suitable for my firm. I'd love to work with you in the future."
We share a small smile, and I can't help but overthink. Even if I'm firmly leaving here with a signed up contract, but I'm pretty sure that I will regret for this.
This is where I've been desiring to be. This is where I gave up so much things to be here. I have lost more than my senses to get here. I lost almost everything...including him.
So many losses pull me into this step. I want to go all out no matter what. I have to hit the ground.
"No, sir." I found myself replying, flipping the guitar up to my stomach properly. "I do have my demo."
Damn me. I actually don't have even one!
Macro raises his eyebrows in surprise. Danny smiles impressively and leans forwards on his chair.
.
.
.
I take a deep breath, inhaling the smell of wooden guitar in my hand. My heart beats faster like the first time I sang in my first TV show. Everything feels like I was thirteen again, when I found myself that music is what I belong to. When I was strumming the Church's guitar, starting writing my first song in church. When I truly believed in God. When everything happened and ended in that place. That's how it started.
And this is how it's going.
I put my fingers onto C and G chords, sitting up straightly...thinking about him...and I begin to sing a song that I'm writing right now. My improvised fingertip song.
Last evening I saw you on the street
Baby you looked different but still perfect at the same time
Then I found, I found I was just hallucinating, oh
Baby, that city, that cruelest place where we spread our love
I thought, I thought if I left there, you ain't mean anything
But I was wrong, so wrong, you're in anywhere
Every place I go, every bed I sleep, it screaming your name, it calling your body, but you're never mine, never mine, never, ohhh
Fumble hundred ways, roaming up at night to feel you, thinking if you cryin, mad cryin, cryin like I do, ohh
I'm dyin as I blink, but you won't cry, never mind, never show up
Baby, that city, that cruelest place where we spread our love
I don't, I don't even have to go back
But I want to, I want to see you, to meet your friends, to love you again
I remember, remember everything we've been through, even your stupid language that I don't understand
Baby, now I can't speak mine, no one talkin to me like you do
But this is the dead end, I hate to admit
But baby, baby, I wish I could, I could go back again
No matter, ooh, it's pushin up the daisies
I open my eyes and lay my guitar on my lap, quickly jabbing a tear around the corner of my eyes before it falls down. Then, I spin to look at Danny and Macro...and found they're crying?
"Delansey. You took it like a duck to water. This is the artist I've been looking for, you know, who sings their pure mind like you do. You just have to get firmly backed up, and I'd very much love to pursue you," Danny says, throwing his hands in the air, gasping as if this is impossible. A single tear drops from his small eye.
"Oh, my God. I knew you're the right thing when you walked through the doors," Macro says with his bloodshot eyes.
I can't help but chuckle a little bit, sniffing. "Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it."
"I didn't enjoy, Kim. I love it," Danny assures me, ecstatically. Macro leans into his ear and whispers something I quite don't hear. Then, Danny sits up and says, "Of course, Macro. I'm going to sign the contract with her. This is my future pots of cash. She's gonna put herself on a map, everyone gonna sing her songs and know her as well."
A little gasp falls from my mouth. "You mean, you're really taking me?" I ask in surprise, my hand on my chest, tears barely holding back. Even though I already sensed that this is going to be received and taken over, but I still can't believe it. This is one of my huge remarkable achievements ever.
"Sure things. I'll be sending you a date to sign the proper contract. First things first, until then, you better find yourself a lawyer and manager, so we could make a deal properly, you know."
I nod, enthusiastically. "Yes, yes. Of course, Danny. I'll find them right away."
"Good." Danny pushes back his chair and stands next to me. "Glad to work hard with you in the future, Kim. Welcome to Wesflines Entertainment," he says with his sincere grin, raising his hand to me.
"Thank you, Danny. Thank you so so so so so much," I reply through my grateful tears, gripping his hand hardly and shaking it ecstatically.