tempo

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When he told her not to feel embarrassed earlier, she didn’t. And now heat rises up in her rosy cheeks, face burning with mortification but she wouldn’t admit any of that to him. The blonde awkwardly ( and obediently ) hands him her phone, at this point doesn’t even dare to make eye contact with the man anymore. For an instance, she looks like a kindergarten child being forced to hand over her favorite toy. “Thank you…” Her voice soft and tiny as she receives the phone from him, then hearing his suggestion to take a real one together. 

“But I don’t want to take a selfie with you.” And she realizes how she sounded. “Wait, that’s now what I meant—” The blonde shakes her head in denial of what she just said, when will she stop making herself look like a joke in front of everyone? “I mean, ah, you probably think I’m a weirdo and hate me so much right now, sunbaenim.” Now she’s being formal. 

River laughs. “If you don’t, then you don’t.” Aurora, Suran, Rey... that’s almost half. Who else? He has his share of friends by now, but what’s one more? Suran, if she texts back. Maybe you some other time.

Hate is as strong of a word as it is a feeling, reserved for... well, not this. This one overthinks but he can’t say he doesn’t know where she’s coming from. “But no, not really.” No, you’re not a weirdo. No, I don’t hate you. I barely know you, but like... “It’s been a long day for both of us, right?” Keeping his distance now, he lingers in his own silence. It’s not a friendly one they share, but it doesn’t have to be the last, either. Overthinking isn’t really his thing when he’s tired so he leaves it at that.

Zircon has drilled, Zircon drills it, Zircon will drill it into you that this is especially crucial, that timing is everything and more. We’ll throw you under the bus, so there’s no excuse to be a deer in the headlights. Because deer don’t know. That’s the difference between you and them. One.

Only she’s not seeking that kind of scrutiny, not here. Just an answer that goes unsaid as River carries out the pause just as deliberately as he denies her the satisfaction of his visible disbelief.  A familiar face brushes by their table which she waves too in the meantime, warm smiles aplenty before they go out the door. The ping! of another notification cuts through the pleasant din of the restaurant, but she holds off on it, tapping against the glass with a hum.

And then, there it is. 

“No point in staying when you don’t have to.” Phone’s back out, with milliseconds for River to catch the exchange on her screen before it’s swiped to the camera app. “Extra wide now: 1, 2—” For confirmation purposes only.

Neither demand goes unheard, but that’s different than it being understood. She’s a breath away from going forward with the former until her mind catches up. Rachel’s brows furrow, baffled. Pulpy red fruit’s a no-go, but with a sudden new exception. O-kay. 

Her face relaxes, turning to wave the server over. “Order it yourself.” 

“Ah, really—” Cheese. For Mom, and just Mom. He’s back to his chair the second after, reaching for Rachel’s cocktail while she’s mildly distracted. River takes in as much of it as he can before she can grab it away from him without really caring for the mess that follows. That’s a Bloody Mary, alright. And it may be red and pulpy and technically fruit, but has Rachel considered that his sudden interest in it all is because he’s sparing his lunch break on her?

The server comes, a glint in her eye upon recognizing him for his worth. River notices, realizing just as quickly that he could use this much to an advantage. Setting the glass down before it’s forced out of his hand, he raises his brows—a greeting. “Three of these for me, please.” For real, he mouths before licking off his tomato mustache. “But you can’t bring them out to me until she promises me my window seat.” River motions to his sister with his thumb and a closed fist, sporting the best little brother pout of his entire life. “No need to wait for us here, though.” It’ll be a while. “I’ll give you the okay when she does.” And then a selfie together, or an autograph, or even a recorded message to her grandmother, whatever. Even a 150% tip!

Once she’s gone, he clasps his hands together over the table. “Please. Please, please, please, please, please.” Looks over his shoulder to nod at the nearest waiter’s booth; yes, pressure. “At least on the way there. You can have it when we’re coming back,” he offers, comprehending a second too late that he’s implying he doesn’t mind being on the same flight twice. 

jisung returns his attention to the storefront, flitting from the red and gold sign to the glimpses of the afternoon bustle through parts of the window pane that haven’t been marked by sticker residue and classic cantopop concert posters. 

“something like that.” but houston hadn’t been any different in that way.

he walks towards the alleyway between that building and the next, his destination tucked into the first floor of the latter. the keypad blinks at him but he knows better than to try it, instead diving straight for the handle of the garage door and giving it a good yank. trespassing on technical grounds maybe, but uncle jihoon’s never been a stickler for the rules, has he? 

a tourist at most, river follows. why point to food when that’s not next on the list? his stomach grumbles, his own hand pushing onto it like it’ll help any. frowning, he peeks over jisung’s shoulder on the way to... where then, exactly?

"trespassing...” he notes aloud. “didn’t peg you as the type.” half of a lie. he’s considered the thought of jisung being a rebel before but never to that extent, and this might not be that but it’s still not anything he’s used to either. with jisung proving otherwise in an abandoned garage, however, river’s curiosity trumps his hunger immediately. somehow he’s not the outlier here, his steps blind but eager into the space.

to: yuna [ 22:17 ] how much longer until we take these masks off? [ 22:17 ] would obv love to smile or talk out loud but it’s so hard

She clumsily pulls out the phone in her pocket, moments of swiping and unlocking, finally holding up her smartphone with the very cursed fan edited selfie of the pair together. Even now when she looks at it, the heck, it just looks so real and well-done! Bewilderment shown on her face as the words stumble out of her mouth. “T-this one?” 

It’s familiar. Not this picture in particular, but this, this spectacle of something that’s so true to life only to not be. Whoever had edited this one was probably on that side of Twitter (though no one’s really counting), the selfie impressive enough for River to do a double take. “Wow, that’s amazing.” He feels well beyond his years; all he’d need is a pair of glasses hanging from his neck and silver hair (again). Must be a recent edit considering he and Jisung had exhausted a few tags of fanworks just last month. “You mind?” he asks, holding his palm open for her to place her phone on so he can have a better look.

MAY 2019 BROOKLYN

it all comes down to timing.

distractions help too, city slicker-slacker impatience and foot traffic on overflow. jisung’s only there to give that first and final push—river goes over the metal hedge, no hands only handlebars, and he follows suit. there’s no room for pause until they’re securely sandwiched by the other passengers who have the aisle spot for the rest of the ride, a one way ticket (hah!) to 86th street station.

his hand flexes then unflexes over the handle with ease, nothing more but one face in a sea of a million and counting. anonymity has never been more welcome.

there’s not much to ask until the journey’s through, stepping off and out on the platform and onward. jisung looks at river expectedly, a wordless well? but in lieu of anything substantial: “no ‘big apple’ shit, okay.” 

muscle memory takes it from here, the path carved in in his mind’s eye rom all the times he’s trudged along it. the lack of weight against his spine almost feels foreign; no jansport heavy with cleats or this week’s homework upon his person, but the years worn near make up for it. 

the only time he stops is to point out an old dimsum place. had he not known better, he’d have missed the worn garage tucked to the side of it altogether. 

in case he didn’t make it clear the first time, “i mean it though.” 

“yeah, yeah, yeah, i got you.” river tut-tuts, equally a fan of making sure his loved ones(?) avoid tourist spots in his own hometown. but everything else is beyond him, spring heat not being the nicest thing to suffer through as he pretends to think about it. it’s spring, for crying out loud. just thank god it isn’t texas.

She doesn’t even know what are their effects, only heard of them through her mother and you know the thing with moms exaggerating stuffs to protect their children from troubles.

Apparently “Confusion” is a game now. River hates admitting that he’s out of the loop with things, but this has to be an exception because the girl’s really adamant in pretending this isn’t an honest mistake of a situation. She still hasn’t even said her name yet.

He inhales shakily, blinking at her, letting her just stand there in her own stupor. Why did he spare her the embarrassment of being watched by everybody else just yards away if she was gonna pull this? Drugs? In strangely conservative, “we’re on your ass even in your sleep” South Korea? It’s 1 AM... that has to be the girl’s excuse. Are they both tired? Absolutely. But not tired enough for River to have missed a possibility of why this is happening. She may be blonde, but it’s not like she was born that way. Please. And even if they had done drugs together at some point, he’d only wish to remember the plug. 

“You did amazing up there, which is so unlike your mundane image. I almost didn’t recognize you.” She never really recognized him to begin with… But she hopes that makes her sound normal.

From the left: “Wow, this girl really... no respect.”

To the right: An amused laugh. “Do you see the look on his face?”

Rad comeback, River thinks. You or me? And then she rambles on some more, and that’s when it really hits him. She’s totally pulling this out of her ass. His first instinct is to back away when she comes closer, but he doesn’t step too far. Either way, friends don’t behave that way unless they’re jokingly avoiding each other, bantering. Scratching the back of his head, the cherry on top from CROSS_OVER’s very own _____’s end is her calling him mundane. Surely he isn’t the life of the party, but he can’t have possibly imagined being that boring either; Jisung’s the cool cool one. And his own visuals are pretty... not bad. Not anymore.

He puffs out a breath of air. The weight of their eyes is heavier than the elephant in the room. River doesn’t have to look around to know this, but she doesn’t have to make this any worse for herself than she does either. Yawning, he nods as if to agree with her, stepping forward again and motioning to the end of the hallway with a weak lift of his arm. Before the conversation can carry on, he joins her at her side and briefly places his hand onto her back, making sure they’re heading the right direction together where not so many people are around. “Let’s catch up over there.” A white lie.

afterwards, she did a lot of research about the male idol. yoo minwoo, ‘96liner, virgo, 179cm and 65kg, likes seo yeji, high school drum captain, hates fruit and loves vlogging. jesus christ, seon gowon, you don’t even know your group mates that well but hey, at least she doesn’t forget about them like how she totally forgot about this guy! so she owes him a lot… luckily for the female idol, god’s given her a chance to make amends today by planning a random encounter for her and the man of mystery in the middle of music bank’s crowded hallway. 

is he looking at her or is he actually looking at the people behind her? gowon can’t tell. her palms have gone cold due to the uneasiness, unsure of how to make this right. she doesn’t even know what kind of relationship they have, exactly how close they are out of ten and what sort of interactions do they have but but she’s seon gowon. when in doubt, seon gowons just go wild so she calls out to him at full volume, possibly attracting more attention than she initially asked for. “hey ho, mr. river!”

Today is feeling long. “I’m going to knock out, don’t talk to me for the next five years” long, chills running up River’s spine at the thought of being unconscious for longer. Then again, promoting Zombie does that to you. Or is it merely the fourth professional year in the industry catching up to him? Next year will be half a decade, another five years after... and then what?

He’s lost in thought this way, looking at nothing in particular. Jisung waves a hand in front of him as he’s passing by, but even that much doesn’t snap him out of it. What does instead: a random voice permeating the space, addressing him. Unless there’s another River? Y’know, alive. It’s loud, too.

March 2018 Houston, Texas, USA

Wear proper walking shoes when traveling long distances on foot. It’s common sense, but so is sparing your bandmate the spiel after they’d chosen to wear the knock-off Birkenstocks they bought from Walmart last night. Everything in a foreign country is new, fascinating, cool, a bunch of big words Lady Gaga might’ve invented once upon a time. The marvel and overhype of things here though? A “What’s an American 7-11 like?” type of attitude? Whew. That much is beyond him.

As a friend, then, laughing at their present misery is a little justified. Does that make River a sadist? It’s just bare minimum... not like he’s going to hold this over Eundam’s head for the next few months or anything. That often. Besides, it’s nothing personal.

River laughs the rest of it off, finding a bench for the two of them to sit so that Eundam can slip his broken sandal off his foot. When settled, he steals the shoe from his hands to examine it for himself, a stupid grin on his face. "You were better off with the cheap Crocs, hyung.” A downward glance, then up at Eundam’s profile, smile small now but still there. “How are your heels?”

DEC 2019

She’s far from feeling obligated, but to chalk it up to its equal and opposite effect won’t do her any favors either. 

Well goddamn. Charity it is, then. 

“What? You don’t believe me?” Though if anyone else had been telling her she’d gotten tickets for that cheap, she probably wouldn’t have believed them either. 

She resumes where she’d left off, fingers tapping away a reply between sips of her Bloody Mary. Mom has been awfully prompt with her texts ever since the news reached her that both the Yoo kids would be headed home this time around. 

The message is sent off, and Rachel pockets her phone. “First class is big enough for the two of us, Riv.” Whatever reasons it wouldn’t be is merely a plight of the youngest that’s beyond her own years. 

The thing about seeing and believing is that in order for the latter to work, you’d have to be doing that first part. He’s got his back facing her for this reason, already kind of feeling like she’s told Mom (who in turn will think surprising Dad by keeping him out of the loop again will absolutely work like it did the first time). Silent incredulity ensues in case there wasn’t already enough of it the minute Rachel had made herself welcome in his space.

While River counts down from ten to one, he stares at the wall in front of him and: How old are we again? (Not 16 and 12, 10 and 6, 5 and 1.) What’s in it for me? (Mom, Dad, nativity scene with actual hay, home.) If I say no, will she respect it? (You’d be angrier if she didn’t offer at all.) Can I ever 100% win? (Maybe if Dad cries.)

And then... and then a long sigh. Just one of those mid-twenty things. But he isn’t at the peak of it yet, choosing to spin on his bare heel to finally face her.