“Watch your words.”
Quick, sharp tone. That’s something even Yeoreum can pull off. But where most people would be quick to be taken seriously, she knows she’ll never achieve that. Out of not wanting to take it that far, out of the inability to take it so far. Whatever it may trigger if she ever forces it, she doesn’t like the side effects of it. As if she will be losing a bit of time she could have been spending doing what she ought to be doing. She has not yet made one with the cleansing of her mind from words that don’t fit, actions that don’t match, feelings that are not part of the equation.
They all still feel unfamiliar with the cleansing and the aftertaste of it. As if one has been remodeled to step one, as if one has been sent back several centuries ago, as if one has to relearn to crawl. As if they’re incompetent, as if the Gods do not trust them to take charge of their own anomalies. So sacred are they, of what? Their own creations rebelling against their natures? The way humans did while facing the sky and deciding that the Gods may as well never have existed? It is the only discomfort that they’re allowed to have, it is the only discomfort they wish they did not have to experience.
“Call me short one more time and this performance is going to find itself broadcasted on every news and music channel out there and you’ll be thanking me for the publicity.” The tissue she got for herself, cleaned her fingers, neatly. But she’s now brandishing it, as if it is the deadliest of weapons and lightly swinging it against his cheek. “Don’t we need to practice first? We need to practice first, unless you want me to go freestyle, because if that is the case.”
She’s rounding the counter to step beside him but also to stand facing him and get a hold of both of his hands while her legs cannot stand still. “I have the perfect performance, I have been practicing improvisation, especially rapping. Listen! I have everything it takes, I should audition for your company, they’d take me in a heartbeat.” Confidence that slides with a smile and she’s squeezing his hands, dragging them both to the door of the tea shop. But also, lifting the hold she has on them to pat his cheeks, before letting go so she can open the door and step to the side.
“Come on, start working to earn the real title.” Her hands make a way, a wave towards the bright lit street awaiting. Quiet as always is it and she can already see the small crowd this is going to be gathering. She can see it, mostly because she trusts June to get them here, wherever he wants them. There’s a lot of trust in his abilities, enough that he might not know it himself, but Yeoreum would admit to anyone else even him if he ever asked, that he’s earned whatever title he may have wished for the moment he started working towards it.
The results are often times rewarding, but the moment you take a step towards your goal. The reality is that you’ve become who you want to be. Most of Yeoreum’s missions have to come to this one realization by themselves, most of them hardly ever do but those who do get to it. They make Yeoreum stay awake for longer period of times, burning with a sort of energy that could have her climbing mounts and mounts, they fuel her for the next life to approach. To the point where an entire week can be spent on her feet, on her back, but never with her eyes closed.
It is beyond the feeling humans can get from the strongest intoxication.
“Watch your words.” Probably the easiest thing to do. Easier than getting up and getting out. Easier than committing a performance to memory and committing himself to performing, is to act as young as he feels. Everyone and by definition everyone, who June comes into contact with that has a few year son him like to tell him how he should spend it wisely. Gaining wisdom like it’s meant to be brandished and not shared or helpful. For June that’s too hard, too serious, like yeah he thinks about things and tries things and learns things. He does all that, deep thinking beneath the moon and sunrise watches until his brain is tired. But sometimes it’s easier to be. So when he repeats her words it’s with a pull of his nose and a purse of his lips, both as childish as they look, and a pitch of his tone.
Because it’s easier to be like this with Yeoreum than anyone else. And he knows she’ll accept it, even if he does move away from her hands. Not because he thinks she might actually smack him ( well she might playfully ) but because he trusts that it’s all in good fun and it will always be.
“Noona,” he begins while leaving the shop but pausing to gesture towards the street first, hand held up by the top. Manners first no matter how childish he may seem. Manners are always something he remembers, bratty as he may act and excited as he may be. June’s excited too, practically bouncing towards Yeoreum and across the shop. It’s in a way that he doesn’t quite see her, he sees past her, sees the street as he sees all his dreams. The now and the present.
He thinks he and Yeoreum see it the same and that’s why they get along to well. He sees the empty but he sees the possibility in people and in himself. Ther’s faith though and well whether it’s in humanity or himself is another story. But he sees it, even if it’s not a perfect day he sees the clouds and the scenery. The street filled or even gently touched upon. He sees the setting to another start and gets excited.
“Noona if you broadcast this performance either you’ll be seeing a lot of me, or none of me while I beg my company for forgiveness.” It’s why he can speak so light about this. Because they see sort of the same, move about life like it doesn’t cut them like it does others. Even if it does they keep moving.
His back taps against the door, guitar waiting by his leg. Itching itching and reminding him he has things to do, streets to fill. “If you’re good at just following along then we don’t really need to practice? I’ve got plenty songs under my belt and if choruses are easy for you to pick up or melodies than we’ll do just fine. People don’t worry about those technical things with street performers. Or well I don’t think?” He’s trying to think of all they need to cover, of the danger of sudden decisions like this but he’s too impatient. “Anyway it’ll be fine it’ll work out, I’ll try to find one to match the atmosphere though now come on, you first.” He’s practically bursting now, the door hitting his back with each time he moves forward and back, excitement so tangible it’s breaking the smile into his cheeks.
“Go go I’m right behind you, if I smell these muffins any longer and I’ll eat them all.”
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