Itâs quiet in the room, no hum, no buzz. Much too quiet for a music studio that should be filled with sound and song. Itâs been like that for months. Quiet. Itâs tidy, clean. The room almost feels like it was abandoned, eerily empty, if it werenât for the dark haired young man sitting in front of the silent piano. But he too is quiet and still. He doesnât move, sitting straight, hands folded in his lap, staring blankly ahead. Heâs been sitting and staring for a long time, hours maybe. Heâs looking down at the neat piano keys, but he doesnât see them. He doesnât see anything, caught inside his own head.
Itâs been like that for days, weeks, months. But itâs worse today.
Atop the piano lies a sheet of paper, inconspicuous and yet out of place. Sheet music is what one would expect to find on top of a piano, but the paper is covered in small letters with an officially looking logo in the right corner. Itâs an important document. At least it could be. Or it could not.
The young man finally moves. He raises a hand and places it gently on the white keys. Itâs the kind of mellow motion one would expect from a pianist. The movement follows sound. A high noted lonely âPingâ thatâs too loud for the quiet. Then a second and a third. Then it dies. The slack hand falls back onto itâs ownerâs leg.
Youngjae sighs, his shoulders sag. They feel stiff and he stretches wide and heavily, as if he hadnât just wasted another day of his life. Then he carefully places the cover back down over the keys and rises to his feet. He stares down at the paper, shakes his head to himself and turns away. But just as he is about to take his first step towards the door, he quickly turns back and snatches the sheet off the piano, taking it with him when he leaves.
He keeps the papers by his side. While he cooks and has dinner, while he does the dishes and vacuums the dog hair from the sofa and while he watches Coco immediately jump up and spread her white fuzz all over the cushions again. From time to time he eyes the document, but each and every time he pulls his gaze away and tells himself to focus.
Still, itâs right there on top of the coffee table when Youngjae snuggles into his comfort blanket on the sofa, Coco on his chest and his favorite Drama playing on the screen. His time is running out, he knows that. He only has so many days before he will have to face reality, harsh and unapologetic. He hadnât spent much time dwelling on what would happen. Heâd played with the idea, entertained the thought, but he never thought it through to the end.
The universe is not playing in his favor today. When the drama goes into a commercial break and Youngjae just returns from the kitchen with a snack, he witnesses an ad crossing over the screen, underlined by a soft music piece. Just the tune alone speaks of longing, fantasy and a beautiful future. Youngjae heard this song many times and he loves it and hates it just the same. An artistically drawn cartoon plays, a sleeping piglet over whose head sits a dream bubble filled with colors and rainbows. The piglet opens its eyes and stands up on the bed, reaching its tiny arms up and catching the bubble in mid air. Then it pulls itself up and climbs inside.
Even 10 seconds later Youngjae canât tell what the commercial was for, all thatâs burned into his mind is the sentence showing up on the screen. âChase your dreams.â
Youngjae walks over to the coffee table, grabs the stack of papers and throws them all into the paper bin.
âMorning Sunshine.â Youngjae is greeted right as he presses the elevator button. He doesnât need to turn around to know who it is, but he does anyways. He plasters a happy smile on his face before he does and greets back. âGood morning, Hyung.â Jaebum pats his shoulder when he approaches and plants himself along before the elevator doors. For some reason Youngjae clutches his bag a little closer to his body. Itâs stupid, but he feels like heâs carrying a big secret that is about to spill. In the morning, right after he climbed out of bed, sleep-ridden and in his pajamas, he walked back to the bin and fished the papers out. He couldnât bear leaving to work without them.
âYou look like youâve seen a ghost.â Jaebum notices with a curious glance and Youngjae shrugs, not in the mood to tell him wrong. The elevator arrives with a âplingâ and they get on, just them two. Youngjae likes being around Jaebum, but being alone with him, in such an enclosed space nonetheless makes him nervous. The female staff blush and giggle when talking to him and Youngjae would too, if he didnât know how inappropriate that would be for him to do. If girls do it itâs cute, if he did it itâs gross. No, thank you.
âHowâs that song coming along?â Jaebum inquires cheerfully, oblivious of Youngjaeâs tight chest and throat. His mood, already at ground level falls through the elevator floor all the way down into the underground parking lot, smashing into the concrete. âNot bad.â He lies and Jaebum hears it. Heâs smart, attractive talented, but also extremely sensitive and good with people. If heâd joined the company when he was younger, they surely would have debuted him as an idol. Heâd have made all of Korea fall for him.
âStill in a slump, huh?â Jaebum slings an arm around his shoulder and presses him to his side. âDonât worry.â He goes on. âYou have the skills and itâll pass. You can do it.â Itâs just then that the elevator arrives at their floor and Youngjae has the chance to hastily excuse himself, shaking off the prodding arm and prodding questions so that he doesnât have to think about whether heâs grateful for the nice words or throw up over whatâs underneath.
Youngjae listens to a bit of scolding, scribbles down a few notes and overall does pretty much nothing. When his mind rests for too long, a little piglet climbs inside his brain, telling him to follow his dreams and he reaches for his bag and takes out the paper. âThis is my dream.â He says and he has to say it out loud, because if he kept it inside his head it wouldnât convince him.
It is his dream, he knows when he looks around the company. The people, the equipment. The studios, the music. Being a songwriter IS a dreamjob. He was so lucky to end up here. All the opportunities, the creativity, the skills and knowledge. The chances, the music, the art.
âWanna grab lunch?â Youngjae startles when Jaebumâs head pops through a crack in the door. He hadnât realized how the time passed. He decides to just nod and only when Jaebum steps closer and curiously looks down at the table asking. âWhatâs that?â Youngjae realizes with a shock that he still has the papers lying there, out in the open. He hastily grabs them and stuffs them into his bag. âNothing.â He gasps and slings his bag over his shoulder. âLetâs go.â
Jaebumâs eyes narrow slightly, but he lets it slide. Youngjae gets on the elevator first and reaches out to press the button when Jaebumâs hand springs out of nowhere and grabs his wrist. Then he pushes him aside and presses the button for the ground floor. Youngjae frowns. âThatâs not where the canteen is.â Jaebum beams. âLetâs go to the Italian place across the street.â He says. âI want lasagna.â Youngjaeâs stomach feels fuzzy, but he shrugs it off.
âSo, howâs that song coming along?â Jaebum asks once the waiter leaves with his order of lasagna and seafood-spaghetti. âYou asked that.â Youngjae reminds him and avoids his eyes, letting his gaze wander around the dining area. Itâs full, but the tables are nicely scattered so it doesnât get too noisy. Jaebum props his chin onto his palm, elbow on the table and blinks at him. âAnd Iâm asking again.â Youngjaeâs eyes fleetingly flicker back to him. âDid someone put you up on my tail?â He asks, scrunching his nose as it tickles with the scent of herbs in the air.
âYes.â Jaebum admits unabashed. âBut thatâs not why Iâm asking.â Now Youngjae does look at him fully. âThen why?â He squints. Jaebum doesnât show any signs of apology. âBecause I want to know. Youâre evasive and discouraged and you didnât use to be like that.â Itâs hard not to slump at the words. Itâs true, Youngjae knows that. He used to be different, he used to be cheerful and laughing, the nickname âSunshineâ coming from somewhere. âFollow your dreams!â The piglet screeches. Jaebumâs head tilts on his palm. âYou used to have so much creativity and inspiration. And enthusiasm to be a producer.â
Youngjae presses his lips together. âPeople just have that sometimes.â He diverts. âEverybody goes through times like these, even you!â Itâs half the truth. Jaebum is the most respected songwriter and producer in the company and even he had periods where he lacked output. But it surely never lasted as long as it does for Youngjae now. He shrugs unimpressed. âIâm thinking you could do better.â Youngjaeâs anxiety slowly but surely tips over into anger. âNot helping.â He hisses. Jaebum finally sits back up properly, taking his arm off the table. âI know you did better when you were under less pressure.â He says casually. âBut thatâs how it is. There is pressure and itâs not going to go away because you want it to. If you want to be a music producer, you better get used to it.â
Youngjae isnât used to hearing harsh words from Jaebum. Or, from anyone for that matter. Heâs used to being encouraged. To hearing that he can do it, that he will achieve what he wants if he works hard. If thereâs one thing people love to say, itâs that one fateful sentence. âNever give up.â The piglet taunts him and theyâre quiet until the food arrives. Then Jaebum changes the topic and chatters away about miniscule things, leaving Youngjae confused and alone with his thoughts.
He mumbles a âByeâ and walks off to the left once theyâre back on their floor, knowing that Jaebum has to go right, but his sleeve is caught in the otherâs grip and he turns back. âYou know, Youngjae-ah.â Jaebum says, voice much softer than itâs been today. âI am a 100% honest when I say I know you can do better.â He pulls him a little closer in, face serious. âBut that doesnât mean you have to. Sometimes itâs just worth learning that, hypothetically, youâre not made to be creative under pressure.â Then he lets loose of his sleeve and steps away, leaving him dumbfounded in the hallway, mind tumbling over.
Youngjae pulls the stack of paper from his bag once heâs alone and places it on the desk. He flips through the pages slowly, one by one until he reaches the last. Then he takes a pen, hovering it above the straight black line on the bottom of the page. He takes one last deep breath and scribbles his name.
Everything after that happens in a dazed rush. He seals the sheets in an envelope and drops it in the mailbox. He walks into his bosses office with a hammering heart and when he emerges, he feels like he lost 50 kilos.
It takes some time, but not a lot and eventually it sickers through. He hears whispers, but ignores them. Then, one day Jackson is at the company and heâs not only their most popular artist, but also their noisiest one and he jumps on Youngjaeâs back and whines. âYouâre leaving usssss?â Mark, Jacksonâs manager sighs exasperated and pulls his protĂ©gĂ© off Youngjaeâs body, setting him back to the ground. Youngjae likes them both and heâll miss them. âYeah.â He nods shyly. âBut whhyyyy?!â Jackson wails, ignoring Mark who tries to shush him.
Youngjae breathes deeply. He hasnât had to do this yet, hasnât told anyone directly. âI found a different job.â He states and cracks a smile unwillingly. âThat I really wanna do.â Jackson isnât happy. âWho stole you?! YG?â He takes a âready-to-fightâ â posture that makes Youngjae laugh. âNo.â He shakes his head. âNothing like that. Iâm gonna be in the marketing department of a video game company.â It feels good to say. Jacksonâs eyes grow large. âBut you said writing music was your dream!â He cries. Youngjae is aware that more people are listening in and he finds he doesnât mind.
âI think.â He says. âIâm better off keeping music as a hobby. And you know I love video games.â Jackson complains, but Youngjae sees Marks face twist into a soft smile. âGood for you.â He says, gentle voice the polar opposite to Jacksonâs noisy one. Youngjae nods. âThanks.â
âIs that really your choice?â Youngjae halts in mid-air, halfway to stuffing a notebook into a box. Jaebum faked oblivious for the time being and now Youngjaeâs departure is official rather than âofficialâ. He looks up, letting the notebook clumsily fall onto his other things. He nods, but doesnât manage to squeeze out a word. Jaebum raises a disbelieving eyebrow. ââm sorry.â Youngjae mumbles, even though heâs not sure he knows what heâs apologizing for.
Jaebum steps closer. âWhat about your dream?â The scoff escapes Youngjae involuntarily. He means to take it back but Jaebumâs eyes sparkle and he smiles. Youngjaeâs heart leaps and his throat closes up. Jaebum is really getting close. âAre you sure you made the right decision?â He asks, very quietly. Youngjae stares back at him. He wants to say yes, because thatâs the whole point, but it wonât come out. Finally, after a long while he shakes his head. Jaebumâs smile stays perfectly in place.
âNo.â It gives Youngjae the courage to say. âIâm not sure. I donât know.â He stems his arms into his side a little childish. âBut Iâm tired of my dream.â
The piglet plops out of itâs dream bubble and climbs back down into itâs bed. The sun rises and it yawns when it awakes. Happily.
Jaebum moves in and wraps his arms around Youngjaeâs body. His lips are right next to Youngjaeâs ear when he whispers. âIâm glad youâre honest with yourself now.â It has him shiver, for a multitude of reasons and he hugs Jaebum back tightly. âThank you so much.â He gives back, something sweet blooming in his chest. He half expects Jaebum to taunt him, teasingly ask âWhat for?â but he doesnât. He squeezes him once more, then backs away, though still holding onto Youngjaeâs elbows. âI really hope you find your happiness.â He says with the utmost honesty. âBut Iâll miss you.â
The happy feeling inside him receives a crack. Youngjae will miss him, too. Theyâre close, but it would be far-fetched to even call them friends. They never even met once outside of work and while they worked together a few times, including a fairytale-like tune that was sold as a jingle for a TV commercial and while they shared phone-numbers, they barely know anything about each otherâs lives.
âYoungjae.â Jaebum says and he sounds a little breathless. âWeâre not coworkers anymore now.â He pronounces it like a fact, not a question, but Youngjae still nods. âSo the company rules⊠donât apply any longer.â Youngjae frowns. Rules? He means to express his confusion, but he doesnât get the chance. In a rash, hardly comprehensible motion he rushes in and their lips collide in the briefest of kisses. Youngjaeâs heart explodes and when Jaebum is back in his original position, he feels breathless, too.
The company doesnât allow coworkers to date. And while Youngjae mildly wonders if Jaebum chased him out for his own gain, he decides to inquire on that later. So before he can say anything else, Youngjae chimes in. âYeah.â he whispers with a nod. He knew the piglet had a reason to wake up.
