a two-part fic
pairing/s:Â DJ Jaehwan ! x OCÂ
character/s:Â Ha SungwoonÂ
genre:Â angst, fluff, song-ficÂ
summary:Â DJ Jaehwan composes a song for a heartbroken listener not knowing he was the one who broke her heart.
"And this has been, your Hwan and only, Kim Jaehwan for One Radio. Son of Music, signing off. Good night~"
The funky tune of the radio show's closing credits fills the whole station as everyone stretches in their swivel chairs, satisfied smiles on their tired faces. They just had their highest-rating full show to date and itâs all thanks to the newbie DJ, Kim Jaehwan who came just when their audience count was at its all time low. His humor and undeniable taste in music pulled in listeners so quickly like a saving grace to the station.
Was this a play of fate or coincidence? Your workplace reminded you of Jaehwan enough as it is, but now he is here in the flesh as a result of your despair.
Microphones. Adoring bystanders. Cheerful music. Kim Jaehwan. It was painstakingly similar to your last day in high school. And you're possibly going to relive it again and again for as long as he is here.
Did I do great? Jaehwan mouthed from inside the booth, both thumbs jabbing upward as he cheerfully asks for your approval.
Hwan and only, really? You mouth back with an expression of judgment as you stand over the broadcast controls.
They're calling me that. He gestured to the monitor that was still actively filling up with post-show messages. Jaehwan knows keeping track of the messages is more than half the reason the listeners are pouring in. Who knew that, aside from his expertise in sound, a guy like this had some love advice up his scrunched-up sleeves?
"How did you come across a gem like him? He's a natural!" Your boss raved and you were surprised to witness a genuine smile on her face.
"It was easy," Not. "I was in Hongdae.â
Hongdae. A district of free spirits. Teeming with young souls aiming for their big break or simply some extra bucks. Why your feet lead you here on such a night of despair, you had no clue. Itâs not like you could scout someone in the middle of the night, right?
You walked on, letting the various sounds from the buskers and the aromas from the food stalls pass your senses. The scolding voice of your superior was still ringing in your ears an hour after the your encounter at her office.
âWhoâs going to fill in for him then? You didnât even have any backups ready?â
She raised her voice and snatched the resignation letter from your hand, a damned piece of paper handed to you earlier in the night right after another underwhelming radio episode hosted by an underachieving DJ. The show was entitled âAre You Listening?â Judging by the ratings, clearly no one was. Â
âMaâam, it was totally unforeseen. If he informed me a month, heck, a week before, I wouldâve come up with something.â you tried to retort, fully aware that this would sound like you were shifting the blame. You werenât able to come up with backups because you were too preoccupied with keeping the show itself together. How were you supposed to think of Plan B under all that pressure?
âAnd heâs really not that much of a loss, anyway.â you muttered the last sentence under your breath almost transparent in your spite against the now-jobless DJ. Â He was unenthusiastic, had no interest in whatever the script had for the night, but was really all you had at the time.
âWasnât this your concept in the first place? It was a piece of trash. Now, make this work or you can leave the midnight timeslot. Iâm transferring you the AM.â
Iâm transferring you to the AM. Iâm transferring you to the AM.
Sheâs transferring me to the AM. Your feet were glued to the ground as you stood in front of her with no response, hearing her eventually stalk out, her sharp voice trailing away with more complaints.
Segment producer was the position you had your eyes on ever since you took the entry level job as an assistant here at the radio station. Working your way up slowly but surely for 4 years, the promotion finally landed on your hands after subtly showing off your knack for the perfect playlist. This was a chance to conceptualize your own show within the midnight time slot. A chance to not wake up at 4am in the morning. But most especiallyâŚ
A chance for music. You canât afford to lose this chance.
And that was how you ended up 3 stations away from your apartment on a Wednesday night, a couple of hours before dawn, not even knowing if you were here because of your grumbling stomach or if you thought the music would somehow help you think.
That was when you heard him.
He was still singing that 10 years after, was your first thought as the lingering notes reached your ears above all the others. You surprised yourself with your own certainty, you were so sure that it was Kim Jaehwan. After all, you listened to his music for the entirety of senior year. Kim Jaehwan was that old habit you just canât seem to shake off.
You couldnât see exactly where the voice was coming from so you went with the trusty old gut. Following the strums of the acoustic guitar, the rising murmurs of the crowd, and the emotional voice just begging for attention, you pushed your way to the front until your view of him was unobstructed.
The last strum came just as their eyes met. He seemed unfazed. She frowned.
It was one of those moments in which the universe made you feel smaller than what you made yourself out to be in your own mind. Like a single passing figure. But this was no time to bring back that adolescent pain. She had a job to keep after all.
âThank you everyone.â He looked to the rest of the crowd and bowed as the generous audience members left some change on his guitar case and started to disperse.
âKim Jaehwan.â you moved forward tentatively, testing the waters.
âYes, thatâs my name.â Jaehwan turned with a jumpy, welcoming smile in his face. A true entertainer. Â He fixed his guitar strap around his nape.
âItâs me.â you said stopping in front of him, trying not to give in to how uncomfortable you actually felt. The unrecognizing look he gave made it even harder to bear. Was I really that insignificant to you? Â âYeonrin. From high school. Broadcast Club.â
âOh! Of course!â He made strange hand gestures you could only make out to be the sliding of buttons on the sound system. âItâs been a while, huh? Iâm guessing you produce now?â
âNot exactly.â you paused. He seemed confused but interested nonetheless. âBut close.â
âClose? So you mean...â You knew that, in the topic of music, Jaehwan would gladly hold the conversation until the sun rises. A fact youâve proven with experience which he appears to not have a clear recollection of.
âDo you want to get coffee?â you cut him off. There was a lot to be said tonight. Memories to be reluctantly recalled and favors to be asked.
âTomorrow night?!â Jaehwan started, moving the table at least an inch from him due to his surprise. The other patrons at the cafe were undisturbed yet he cautiously looked around at the mostly empty tables to make sure he did not cause any distraction. âWhy so soon?â
âI told you. He resigned a while ago and we have a show tomorrow night.â You looked at your wrist watch for effect, already knowing it was well past midnight. âActually, itâs tonight.â
Starting with the anecdote about your possible demotion (somehow to gain pity but mostly to set the request straight), you told Jaehwan everything from the concept of the show to the work the previous DJ left behind. You observe that he was totally immersed in the story, throwing in comments here and there to show sympathy and to add a bit of humor into the matter. Though he did struggle to hide the fact that he was confused as to where this story will lead. You two werenât exactly the closest of friends. Not as close as you hoped you had been. So you telling him about your entire career on your first meeting in ten years was a bit baffling. And then came the request.
âCome and DJ for my radio show. Itâs a win for us both, isnât it?â
Jaehwan leaned back on his chair, his facial expression switching from astonishment, to deep thought and lastly a look of realization. âIâm getting paid, right? I could use an extra gig.â
You simply gave him a look. Duh. âPlease?â
He leaned back further into his seat and you almost hear the thoughts in his head and see them flitting through his eyes. That was it, you were pulling out the big guns. You hated to even mention this to him but this was the only thing that brought a certain yes to the panicked request.
âI helped you in Senior year, remember? Consider us even if you do this? That was big, big favor if i recall correctly.â
Oh, you recalled it perfectly. Vividly, even. You pushed it away from your mind as much as you could. But the situation called, begged for the memory. It was itching to be pulled back from the attic. Like a teenage memento that suddenly needed to be fished out. A memento youâd rather not see.
Jaehwan buffered. But after a few beats, he sat up, brightened by whatever crossed his mind. And there you concluded, they were still together.
âSo youâre saying...I have a segment of my own. I read out submissions from the fans. And you said theyâre mostly about love, right?â You nodded on as he summarized. âI play songs related to their story and try to give them advice.â You havenât stopped nodding. âIt would be more personal to write them a song thoughâŚâ he thought out loud, probably not aware he voiced out the idea.
âThatâs genius!â you startled him but saw afterwards that he was pleased with the remark.
âRight? But it would involve getting their stories beforehand...We can do that right?â
You smiled at him, knowing by his interest and by the fact that heâs already planning out the segment that he has implicitly accepted the offer.
It was 2am by the time you finished discussing the terms of the job. The segment has taken an entirely new form, thanks to his fresh concept and your understanding of the audience. And finally with a satisfied sigh, you wrapped up and agreed to meet the next night for the first broadcast.
âYeonrin, itâs probably not coincidence that we bumped into each other tonight. How do you manage to bridge me to what could possibly be the best things in my life?â Your chest felt heavy due to his light-hearted words that managed to reach back ten years. I thought it would bridge you to me.
âMaybe youâre my guardian angel.â he said.
Guardian angels donât have forbidden love stories with who they watch.
You inwardly scoffed. âI donât think so.â And quickly changed the topic. âIâll see you tomorrow at the address I sent. Please, please donât ditch me.â You pleaded while walking away slowly, waiting for his affirmation before you leave and slave away for work again.
âIâll do my best for this, I promise. I wonât let you down.â he said with increasing volume because of your growing distance. He ended with a jump like a giddy kid.
You waved and finally walked away, exhaling a breath and releasing the tension that has built up in your body. So you werenât getting transferred after all. Hanging on to his words, you went home both relieved and anxious. Â I wonât let you down.
In the cramped office of the broadcasting club, you were in charge of lunch-time announcements - an unwanted job. Nobody wanted to be stuck in the announcement booth, thick with the smell of dust, non-existent legroom and a rusty, squeaking swivel chair.
And no one really bothered to listen, announcements were barely heard even without student chatter, what more over the din of student body?
Still, you didnât really want to pass the opportunity. The job included free seminars on broadcasting, and tinkering the sound board. Plus, you had the liberty of experimenting or messing up, and no one would know.
Kim Jaehwan was never a part of your life in any form before that annoyingly humid day stuck in the room. The administration wasnât generous with club fundings so all they got was a wall fan creaking every time it rotated.
You slid the door open expecting warm, sticky wind to billow. Instead, your eyes landed on the familiar swivel chair, now occupied by another student whose back youâre unfamiliar of. His hands moved around the sound board, sliding random buttons up and down. You  wince as he slid a particular button that caused a loud screech over the speakers.
You quickly turned it off, pushing away the chair, unamused. You turned around, eyes landing on a face you have passed by before on the hallway.
âPlease play my song,â he grins, jumping the gun.
His straightforwardness fueled irritation, a foreboding of a wrong first impression.  You raise your eyebrows, crosses your  arms and notices the white cd he was holding.
I donât want to. Of course, you couldnât say that, at least not directly. You didnât really want to handle extra paperworks to be submitted to the administration just to broadcast non-academic announcements or songs for that matter.
It was tempting though. You always wanted to try your hand on mixing songs. After going back and forth on the pros and cons of both decisions, you sighed. âI canât. Iâm not the president of the club. Sungwoon decides non-academic announcements that will be played. It entails paperworks after all,â you shooed him away right after.
If he truly wanted to, heâll find a way, you thought.But he came back so soon with Ha Sungwoon, the president of the club on tow. âOkay, so I got him now.â
You gawked. Sungwoon wasnât the easiest to convince for that matter. Jaehwan handed the CD to Sungwoon before passing it to her, â1 week of free meals, alright?â
âAlright. Alright, hyung.â he giggles with his trademark high pitched voice.
âWe could always use his covers to boost our club.â
It has become usual for Jaehwanâs covers played over lunch time, and unexpectedly Sungwoon managed to convince the administration of the idea.
Although it took a while for the ice to break between the two of them, he managed to charm you by his humour. Music led you to befriend him, and all forms of irritation towards him shifted.
You were strangely attracted to him.
You found his sincerity and passion attractive. He was weird on some days, but even that somehow grew on her. You wouldnât say that heâs the most attractive person youâd met, but whenever he stitches some melodies and heâd become so lost in his own world, your heart fluttered uncontrollably.
âDo you like someone?â he curiously asked you. You opened and closed her mouth, the silence prolonging more than needed.
You eyed him strangely, âYou donât ask girls that question. How about you?â
âThatâsâŚâ he inches closer about to whisper something, and you were half-expectant. A bead of sweat forms on your forehead. You bite yout lips. âA secret.â he flicks your forehead.
You continued to pine for him over the last month of school, deciding to confess on that day when he arrives in the broadcasting room, a place where he always headed off to during lunch.
As you were  walking through the hallways preparing for the final announcement of that academic year, you catch Jaehwan running after you with a guitar slung on his shoulder.
âA f-favorâ he stutters while catching for breath. You stop on your tracks, a corridor away from the broadcasting room.
âCan you let me do a live? I want to sing an original,â he requests and you smile.
âOnly now?â you tease knowing how Jaehwan wrote a lot of original songs but never played it over a huge audience.
âYeah. I mean. Itâs the last chance,â he explains. âAnd I want this as my first original song,â he smiles affectionately.
You busily toggled on the broadcasting board to ensure that the instrument wouldnât screech or that Jaehwanâs voice would be overpowered by his playing. By the side, he tuned his instrument, nervousness kicking in.
âJaehwan?â you tap on his shoulder.
âAh, ahh. Â Is this working now?â Jaehwan asks over the microphone and you nod silently. âRight. Uhm, Iâm Kim Jaehwan. 3rd year class B. And over the year, Iâve asked the broadcasting club to play my recorded covers of songs, but now Iâve wanted to sing an original.â
âAnd I wanted to confess to someone,â there was ringing in your head. âBut I know that I wouldnât be able to do it properly if I didnât sing,â he continues, and your mouth is drying up from anticipation. The nervousness spread to your fingers that were now trembling.
You heard that song of his over a million of times. You were with him every step of the way, and whenever he sang that, it always made you feel like that was meant for you, but why now, when it was the most important time that you felt like his voice was reaching out for another person other than you?
âSheâs a close friend of mine, and she pushed me to write songs. Thatâs why to Gayoung. I really, really like you. Weâve been close friends since we were middle school. I wouldnât be here without you,â he laughs cheekily. The whole building has gone quiet, and his words were heard loud and clear.
âI want to sing for you. I want to be the guy youâll be proud of.â
The ringing stopped then heat and numbness spread on her face. You couldnât exactly hear everything right, but you were sure of one thing.
Across the other hall, a woman ran on full sprint towards the broadcasting room with the whole school body hollering at her as she dashed away from the classrooms.
âIâll beat him up!â her words echoing on the barren hallway.
In the said broadcasting room, you were stunned unable to say a word. It was the heartbreak settling in, and the embarrassment that you thought it was for you. After all, all they ever talked about was music.
âI was so nervous!â Jaehwan covers his face, ears noticeably red. âDid I sing well?â he looks up at you.
âOh. Uh. Ah. Yeah. You did.âyou smile although you could feel your own lips trembling. Â âRight. I guess, I need to go now, huh? I mean she might go here, after all.â you say a little hastily as your fingers fumbled at the door knob.
As you walked on the hallway, a young woman ran past you âKim Jaehwan!â the pretty woman shouted as she opened the door of the broadcasting room.
You stayed a little bit later than others that day, remaining on the classroom and peering over the students who walked home.You wanted to know how it went, and lowkey hoped that it didnât end well.
But when you found Jaehwanâs figure, the same pretty girl was beside him, and their fingers were interlaced.
âThis is what I get for assuming.â you curl your fists, repeatedly tapping it on your forehead to scold yourself.
And just how the only thing that connected them was that said broadcasting room, they soon lost contact with each other.
