i encourage you to go to your favourite writer’s ao3 page and comment on an older fic, because i can assure you that it will make their day. It can mean so much to see your work doesn’t disappear into the void to be never seen again after a day of people interacting with it. Just, if you have the time, go comment on an older work
(pls reblog this to try and get as much writers a bit of appreciation)
I have been waiting for you to come back so long!! LOL sorry if it sounds creepy, but I literally love everything you've written and can't wait to read more of roommate!!! Welcome back!!!
Awww thank you! It feels nice to come back. I’m going to finish roommate at the end of this year, I promise!!!
Please continue roommate!! I loved the story and your writing ❤❤❤
Aww thanks! God, I feel so bad for not finishing roommate. I have the whole plot out in my head but I had such a hard time writing the ending. I will complete it before the end of this year!!!
college AU where 95z are potheads and tae gets caught and put in jail but jimin is that useless friend at a party. hastag real life problems. (more fake subz here)
Summary:
This is an AU. You and Gray were in love. Sunghwa joined AOMG (not only as a producer but also a singer) and was offered a record deal – in which involves touring around the world. You suffer from an illness and know it’s impossible for him to follow his dreams if he stays behind for you. So in the end, the two of you part ways on bad terms. Little did Gray know, you kept a big secret from him. Now it has been nearly a decade – can the two of you reconnect?
// Part 3//
-Flashback-
For what must be the fifth time tonight, you feel Sunghwa's fingers grazing your thigh beneath the table as Elo continues to talk about his class. Your senses heighten to Sunghwa's touch—nerves ready with anticipation for the next brush, for the pressure of Sunghwa's knee against your own. And when it happens, your stomach drops—like you’re on the most incredible roller coaster in the world—a smile tugging at your lips. You try to suppress it with hardly any luck, as you’ve caught the attention of Hyuk-woo.
"You alright, ___?"
"Hmm? Me?" You sputter. "Yeah…yeah, of course."
"You sure you aren't on something? The bartender didn't slip anything into your drink?" Sunghwa asks, knowing full well that he's the cause but pretending otherwise.
"I'm fine."
You resist the urge to step hard on Sunghwa's foot as payback for drawing unnecessary attention to the both of you, but in the end, thinks better of it. After all, you don't want to give Sunghwa the impression that you don't like the touching. And really, the only thing that you’re on is Sunghwa. Or would be, if only one of you would make a move beyond getting handsie under the table.
In the almost-year since you’ve met Sunghwa, sparks have been flying between the two of you. Flickers at first, but after accidentally running into each other around the university—and subsequently outings with each other in the process—those flickers have grown into something much more.
Magnetic, even.
And the more you spend time with Sunghwa—which at this point in nearly impossible since you guys almost always together—the more you want more. And quite frankly, it scares the shit out of you.
Because Sunghwa is nothing if not a flirt. All of this—these little touches—could be nothing more than friendly—albeit incessant—hellos. Sometimes it's hard to remember that, though, because Sunghwa has a way of making you feel like the only girl in existence. Dangerous ability, that. Especially so, considering that you have nothing to offer Sunghwa in return and knows it.
With as much stealth as you can muster, you try to slide down in your seat. You’re not drunk enough for this—karaoke night at The Freebird. Hyuk-woo and karaoke night. And fuck Elo for starting this Tuesday evening tradition of getting drunk.
Elo is all drunken-smiles when he announces, "you're up, ___!"
"Sorry, I think I might throw up. Pardon me."
But Hoody—and just whose friend does she think she is?—grabs your wrist to halt your progress as you stand. You jerk yourself free and sits down, knowing that your friends—and you use the term loosely—will pull you up there if need be. Your only saving grace is that it's Hoody's turn to pick a song for you, and usually she takes some pity.
"Alright then." Hoody takes a long sip of her drink. "You, my dear, will be regaling us with…'Fly Away' by the one and only Jaejoong."
Suddenly you turn on Hyuk-woo. "You told them, didn't you? You little traitor!"
"Come on, ___." Hyuk-woo pats your shoulder. "We've all shared our embarrassing stories of yesteryear. And since you weren't willing to dish, I had to do it for you while you were chatting up that cute guy the other day."
"I think it's cute that you cried during…what was the film again?"
"A Millionaire's First Love," You answer. "And I was very…young at the time."
"Right then." Elo nods towards the karaoke machine. "Get to it."
"I'm not singing just so you can get some laughs."
"Come on, I'll sing with you."
You think you just heard Sunghwa say he'll sing with you, but surely, you’re dreaming. When you glance over at Sunghwa, though—looking very handsome in that grey sweater, you might add—Sunghwa has an expectant look in his eyes. And despite both of you being certified music lovers, you’ve never mucked around with each other—never played or sung together. Though if you’re honest with yourself, you wanted to ask Sunghwa to do so for absolute ages. And, you suppose, that's why you nod your consent dumbly, getting out of the booth in a daze.
Having been playing in live bars since you were old enough to get into them, you’re no stranger to the spotlight, but you feel distinctly nervous about being up here tonight. The opening chords make him a little queasy—chords you’ve been playing since you were fifteen—but when Sunghwa drapes an arm around your shoulders, gives you one of those flashy smiles, your sickness is momentarily lulled into submission.
Suddenly it doesn't matter that you sound like a dying cat, that you're making a complete ass of yourself next to the golden-voiced Sunghwa. All that matter is that you’re singing with him.
An hour later, you and Sunghwa nearly tumble out of The Freebird, quite a tangle of limbs and hysterical laughter. At what, you aren’t sure, but whatever it is, it's the most brilliant thing in the world. Or the second most brilliant thing in the world because Sunghwa is—by far—the first.
The both of you make it several stumbled steps into the alleyway—Sunghwa's and your arms around each other’s' shoulders and turned in towards each other—before you trip. You land against the rough brick of the building, pulling Sunghwa against you by accident. For a minute, you think to apologize—though you’re not entirely sure if you’re sorry—but by the time your tongue is forming around the words, Sunghwa closes what little space there is between both of your chests.
"I love that movie," Sunghwa says, though it comes out half-laughed.
"A Millionaire's First Love? You've never seen it."
"Mmm, true. But you love it, so I love it."
And you suppose that you ought to feel tense as Sunghwa leans down to capture your lips. But for the first time in your life, you aren’t. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, moving into this kiss—like you’ve been waiting a lifetime for it. Your fingers find Sunghwa's belt loops—pulling him even closer against you—while Sunghwa winds his hands through your hair.
The both of you move together in the alley for a long while—kissing and touching and breathing in one another. It's only after you’re long beyond hope that you realize how drug-like Sunghwa really is, how much you need his hands all over you—desperate and frantic. At a loss for breath, you two breaks from one another, careful to only part as much as strictly necessary.
And it's at that moment that you understand the course of your life has shifted, aligning with Sunghwa’s.
//
-Present-
You suppose that you should have expected this—the inevitable confrontation with Sunghwa. And for all that you tried to keep busy with Momo—now whisked away by Auntie Hoody—you couldn't hold out for ever. After losing your miniature human shield, you had little choice but to try to mingle as much as possibly until a very respectable hour to get the fucking hell out of there.
As luck would have it, the moment you’ve been abandoned in a booth by Hyuk-woo, Sunghwa slipped in his place, pushing a drink towards you.
But now, face-to-face with Sunghwa, it feels like there's a gap between the two of you. You suppose that time has a lot to do with it. Time and bad memories. Or memories that are only bad because they were once good.
"How you been?"
The sound of Sunghwa' concert-strained voice sends a chill through you, and you involuntarily remember long nights listening to it, hearing Sunghwa call your name over-and-over-and-over again in that hoarse whisper. You try to shake the memory's hold on you, but you don't think it's done much good.
"Well enough," You answer, sternly.
"Your daughter,” Sunghwa begins, nodding in Momo's direction, "she's the cutest little thing.”
"She is but also a handful." You say, relaxing just a little.
Suddenly you feel Sunghwa’s hand on yours, you immediately pull back your hand. Your relaxation is completely gone. Sunghwa only looks sheepish back at you.
“You’re not married.” He says it as a statement more than a question.
“No, I’m not.” You glare back at him.
A sad smile forms on Sunghwa’s lips. "I didn't think you'd show, to be honest. I'm glad you did."
Sunghwa looks at you, a glimmer of hope dancing in his brown eyes. You have a twisted desire to do whatever it takes to quash it beneath your heel.
Well, a part of you do, at least.
You’re torn between that and a fierce need to ask Sunghwa to stop it, to say he did this, he doesn’t have a fucking right to look at you like that, why can't all the money and fame in the world be enough for him—why does he need this, too?
But you can't possibly voice any of that, so you sit staring at your drink in silence.
"I miss you, love." Sunghwa breaks the silence.
Leave it to Sunghwa to cut right to the chase. Maybe Sunghwa is under the impression that you’re about to get up and leave at any moment, which you are. Just as soon as you get your shaking hand and fluttering heart to fucking cooperate.
"Seeing you here—" And here, you no choice but to shut your eyes tightly. "—it was like cheating time or something. We don’t ever see each other long enough."
"Consider that the story of our life together, as far as I'm concerned. It never lasted long enough."
If anyone were to ask you right then, you wouldn't be able to say why you were baring your heart like this. Maybe because you'd never been able to lie to Sunghwa effectively. Maybe because you’ve been living with these feelings for so long that your only option is to unleash them or be consumed.
"I'm sorry."
"No. You're not. Because if you were, you would have come home to me. You would have realized that everything that AOMG had to offer you was fake. Money and glory, too. Does it fill you up inside, Sunghwa? Tell me. Is it everything you dreamed of?"
"You—"
"If you were fucking sorry, you wouldn't have sold your soul—and our love—for fame. You would have never produced that song."
"I…I…no, that's not…You. I just wanted you to kn—"
"Save it, Sunghwa."
You leave the table in a rush, feeling mutinous wetness in your eyes. And it's not the fact that you can't stand the sight of Sunghwa anymore that have you like this. If only that was the case. But it's got everything to do with the fact that you can. All these years and the two of you are finally reunited in the flesh. All this time, all this distance, and a part of you feels like you never left at all.
And if you don’t get out of here now—if you don’t make it obvious to Sunghwa that things are over between the two of you—you worry that you might never want to.
With nowhere to go, you rush to the back door. Before you could get very far, you feel a strong grip holding you back.
“Please! Please, ___.” You hear Sunghwa begs, “let me explain.”
You struggle against him – trying to get free from his hold on you.
From time to time you’ve imagined reuniting with Sunghwa—more often in your dreams than anything—but you had no idea the bitter…monster you’ve become, nursing this hurt inside yourself.
And you feel guilty. Your outburst earlier – you shouldn't have…you had no right…music had been Sunghwa' sole aspiration in life. Who were you to have a tantrum about it? To make Sunghwa feel guilty for leaving you behind?
You feel the laboring of your breathing – and you try your best to calm down, but the ground is spinning underneath you. You can feel your body spiral out of your control as our lungs get tighter and tighter.
The last thing you hear is Sunghwa shouting your name repeatedly as your vision blacks out.
Summary:
This is an AU. You and Gray were in love. Sunghwa joined AOMG (not only as a producer but also a singer) and was offered a record deal – in which involves touring around the world. You suffer from an illness and know it’s impossible for him to follow his dreams if he stays behind for you. So in the end, the two of you part ways on bad terms. Little did Gray know, you kept a big secret from him. Now it has been nearly a decade – can the two of you reconnect?
// Part 2 //
--Flashback--
As you force your way through the sea of writhing bodies illuminated by flashes of color, you could curse yourself. The heavy thud-thud-thud pounds into your skull, and for all that you try to push the horrid noise from your ears, you can't quite manage it tonight.
Your condition has flared up as of late, making all your energies go towards keeping your dinner from coming up and your eyes fully opened. The last place you ought to be is at some club right now. But you and Hyuk-woo promised to take Hoody out for a round for her birthday, and you'd feel like an awful friend if you let her down.
After being bumped into by some half-drunken person, you shout over the music, "I hate you, Hoody! You and your awful taste in clubs!"
"You don't!" She's all smiles and squeezes your hand. "It's not healthy being cooped up in that pathetic little apartment of yours and you know it!"
Maybe you do know it. The thought has crossed your mind before, especially when you look forward to running into your elderly next-door neighbor for a chat. Your social life had declined after moving out of the dorms and even more so after breaking it off with your latest boyfriend. And if you’re honest with yourself, you’ve been looking forward to tonight.
"When should we expect your friend to show up?" You ask as the crowd thins at the edge of the dance floor.
Hoody scans the packed seating area before pointing to a corner booth. "There! That's him."
Your eyes follow Hoody's finger, and you immediately spot Hyuk-woo sitting with two dark haired young men. The first, you recall from a photo in her apartment, is Hoody's friend—all messy hair and tattoos. The second, however, is someone completely new to you.
Gorgeous, he is.
You can feel your heart falter at first sight of him. It's the hair that catches your attention, silky smooth. And the leather jacket certainly doesn't help matters. A bad boy, then? Your type to the very letter, and dear God how are you going to ever make it through tonight?
Because you and Hoody have rules about this sort of thing, you remember regrettably as they approach the booth. No dating friends' friends and the like. Your only hope is that this guy isn't Hoody's friend and has a penchant for someone like you.
Yeah, not likely.
Sunghwa—whose name you learn during the brief round of introductions—may be a little quiet, but he does seem genuinely interested in you. You discover this soon into your five-part conversation around beers. It's nothing Sunghwa does, just the way his eyes fall on you when he speaks. Mesmerized is definitely too strong of a word—though in your make-believe world there's something there.
Something like a spark, and it's so very difficult to keep your own eyes from meeting Sunghwa's when either of you speaks.
And you resist—or tries to, anyway—for the better part of an hour filled with anecdotes of mischief making, lamenting of particular professors and modules. It's only when Hoody and Elo gets up to dance—prompted by Hoody’s favorite song (this week)—and Hyuk-woo leaves for the bar to buy another round that you can't quite avoid Sunghwa any longer.
You feel a gentle nudge to your arm and turns to look at a grinning Sunghwa. He really does have a nice smile, as smiles go. Gorgeous lips and… And Christ, you haven’t been staring just then, have you? You can't quite suppress the heat rising to your cheeks and ducks yor head a bit, hoping to hide your embarrassment.
"You don't strike me as someone who gets up to too much trouble, but the way Hoody talks, you could give me and Elo a run for our money."
You don’t miss the impressed and teasing tone in his voice and feels slightly pleased with yourself. Not that people aren't usually surprised when they hear of your colorful record, but this is somehow different. The thought does cross you that you're misconstruing Sunghwa' interest in you, but you’re three beers in it doesn’t hurt to flirt a little.
"Probably could," you say, all confidence as you take a slow drink.
"Where'd you get those then? Breaking and entering?"
Sunghwa nods in the direction of your hands, smug smirk on his face. You realize that he's referring to your plastered fingers, and immediately sets your bottle down, bringing your hand beneath the table. Suddenly you feel very sober.
"Ah no, not exactly. I play a bit of guitar and overdid it yesterday. Rubbed my skin raw."
You wait for the moment of judgment to pass, inevitable as always. You know you don't look the type to be a music junkie—a little too awkward, a little too reserved—and wonders if Sunghwa will laugh it off like a lot of guys have in the past.
It comes to some surprise then, when you find the courage to meet Sunghwa' eyes, that Sunghwa appears to be completely shocked by your confession. You look at him curiously before Sunghwa's expression settles into something rather indescribable.
"You like music?" Sunghwa asks, and for the first time, you notice the strain-induced scratchiness to his voice
"No, I love music."
Sunghwa smiles, looking at you like he's seeing you properly for the first time.
"Yeah? Me too."
//
-- Present—
Why?
You realize that you ‘accidentally’ picks up the latest Dazed & Confused. And it's only a split second later that you recognize a gorgeous pair of brown eyes on the cover.
They dance for you. Maybe it's just because you remember what they were like in real life, the way Sunghwa's every mood could be read from them. Maybe it's because you often dreamt that Sunghwa would look at you like that again. It's a guilty desire, one that you can barely stomach most days. But no one could fault you for that.
And it's strange, looking at him like this. You desperately want to recognize the unrecognizable in Sunghwa, to have the satisfaction of telling yourself, you were right, he's not the same man.
But you can't.
It's as though time froze Sunghwa as he was years ago. Sunghwa hardly looks older—not like yourself who’s getting premature greys—and perhaps that's what's most frightening. Sunghwa appears to be exactly the man that you had once loved.
Or still loves.
With that, your lips pull into an infuriated grimace. You send the magazine to the floor with a violent thwack. And you bring your hands to your face, bites your tongue in favor of screaming your frustration.
How dare Sunghwa do this! How dare he accept Hyuk-woo's invitation! But it's just like Sunghwa, always looking for the next person or next big thing to stroke his giant ego. He'll be fawned over, praised for his infinite genius, his remarkable rise to stardom. No one cares to think about all Sunghwa sold—all he left behind—in order to get there.
All the people he betrayed.
A miserable sound escapes you. Some days you wonder if you’re the only person in the world that felt that betrayal—feels that betrayal even now—and you know the answer. Hyuk-woo and Elo asks you to stop punishing Sunghwa. Hoody, too, in her own way. You wonder how they of all people can refrain from doing so.
Familiar outrage bubbles up inside you at the thought of everything that happened years ago, but You try to quell it. You can't think about this tonight; it'll only leave you bright eyed and miserable. More miserable, really.
And you definitely won't think about Sunghwa.
Let him have his fame and glory, his money and cheap relationships.
What's it matter?
You find the energy to get up from the sofa, your foot coming into contact with the magazine. The cover crinkles under your step, and you barely notices—or pretends to—as you walks to the bathroom before heading to bed.
//
Things would have been fine, you suppose, if the magazine would have grown legs and kindly dropped itself into the bin during the night. You’re determined to not attend Hyuk-woo's party, to never see Sunghwa again so long as you live, would have remained firmly intact.
But the fact of the matter is that it most assuredly was right in front of the sofa as you sat down with your morning toast and coffee—Sunghwa' face planted between your feet. You stare down at it, transfixed by nothing in particular and yet everything in the same moment. Your hand reaches for the magazine almost of its own accord, and it's only after you have it in your grip that the reason behind your sudden interest becomes clear to you.
You suppose it has a lot to do with the date. It's almost Sunghwa’s and your anniversary—what would have been ten years if Sunghwa hadn't…if things hadn't…well, yeah.
And you, despite the disappointed looks and worried calls from your friends, still celebrates it to some extent. No more romantic dinners for you, though. If there is one thing that suffering from almost bi-monthly seizures has taught you, it's that you might as well live life how you want. There's never a guarantee you'll live beyond the next one.
The funny thing is that Sunghwa gave the biggest joy in your life – Momo. Like Sunghwa, Momo sets you back on the right path. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ve been at your healthiest during those years with Sunghwa. So despite all that you hate Sunghwa most of the time, a little piece of you can never deny that Sunghwa was good for you. And now, Momo has taken his place.
That's probably why you still have dreams from time to time, like last night. Of hot, flashing lights and the lazy lovemaking that followed. You wonder if it's a memory or a meshing of reality and fantasy. It was all so vivid. Sunghwa' breath in your ear, his performance-strained voice whispering I love you. And you returning the sentiments in full, rolling over to capture his lips.
Except, the only thing you rolled over to was the emptiness of your bed and unforgiving morning light.
With your thoughts already consumed by Sunghwa, you thumb the pages of the magazine. Sighing, you flip it open randomly and only had to turn once before you find the promised—purportedly revealing—interview.
You sip your coffee, uneager—and yet oh-so-eager—to read the contents of the interview. Brown eyes find the beginning lines, and you brace yourself for…for what? You have no idea. Confirmation, maybe, that this man is not the man you loved. Or heartache when you realize that he is.
It's the normal song and dance for the first few questions, nothing that you couldn't have told the interviewer yourself. What's more interesting to you is the way in which you can hear Sunghwa saying his response—the familiar cadence of his voice, the air of lightness in his tone. The interview even notes when he laughs, and it occurs in all the spots that you imagine it would.
But it's two-thirds of the way down the page that you feel you breath hitch, the question burrowing into you like a parasite and the answer equally as discomfort-inducing.
INTERVIEWER: It's interesting—and many of our readers have noted this—that you've re-released an unplugged version of "My Last" on your new album. Care to elaborate on the decision?
GRAY: Ah, this question! [Laughs]
INTERVIEWER: It's a song shrouded in mystery. Considered to be the most romantic song of the decade and developed by an anonymous co-writer? What are your fans to think?
GRAY: Well they should think that it's a song very near and dear to me, of course. The decision to re-release it in acoustic was made by me. "My Last" was intended for to be an acoustic from the very beginning, and was initially written as a ballad. I've spent a lot of time getting back to my roots with this album, and it was the perfect opportunity to record this song as it was originally intended. I think people will find it more moving than the original, to be honest.
INTERVIEWER: And your co-writer?
GRAY: [Laughs] Will remain anonymous.
INTERVIEWER: Not even the tiniest hint?
GRAY: I think it's obvious from the lyrics that this person means a great deal to me. You can't create something like "My Last" from imagination, you know?
INTERVIEWER: "Means" as in present tense?
GRAY: Do you think that "My Last" could be what it is if it was about any old flame? You—
You shut the magazine quickly, having read quite enough.
//
"You're such an ungrateful daughter."
You smirk, leaning down to meet your mom in a brief hug. You suppose that it's a greeting that would shock most anybody.
"And to what do I owe the insult to my character?" You ask, though you don’t really expect an answer.
Your mom passes Momo to you, and you quickly plant a kiss on her baby-smooth cheek. Momo laughs, pushes you away with a palm to her chin, and struggles out of your arms in favor of her toys in the other room. And it's crazy, how quickly Momo has grown. Where has the time gone?
There's a thud. Your attention is immediately drawn away from thoughts of your daughter to her grandma sopping up spilled coffee from the carpet. You roll your eyes, grabs a tea towel from the nearby kitchen table and joins her on the floor.
"Mom, you're an accident waiting to happen, you know that?" You say.
She looks up at you, fringe falling in her eyes. "You're one to talk. Your whole life is a giant mess."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Her eyes narrow as she jabs her finger at you accusingly, causing you to flinch. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."
Standing, your mom flings the coffee-soaked, wadded-up cloth at you and crosses her arms over her chest. And for being all of five feet four inches, she's still as intimidating as hell.
"Mom…"
"Don't mom me. I hear you're not going to the party in Sunghwa's honor tonight at the Freebird. What the hell is that about? I've raised you to be a lot of things, but never a coward."
"Mom, I’m busy. And who told you about the party?"
"Don’t change the topic!" She falls unceremoniously to the sofa, and you have to wonder if she hadn't just lost her balance. Her sudden rage flickers out into a frown, and she looks on at you in disappointment. You hate that look—thinks that maybe that's the reason she's turned it on to begin with—and moves next to her, putting an arm around her slight shoulders.
"I want you to be happy."
"I am happy, mom," you answer.
"You're lying. I can tell. You’re my daughter." She pokes your nose. "Your nose scrunches up a bit when you lie, just like Momo."
"I'm—"
"Not fine, not happy, and you don't have to pretend for my sake.”
Despite the number of times you’ve had this conversation, you have never gotten used to hearing the truth fall from your mom’s lips. The two of you sit on the sofa, brief silence between you and her, as the sounds of Momo playing in her room echo through the apartment.
"He loves you, you know."
"Who?" You asks almost fearing her answer.
"Sunghwa." Shifting, she pulls away from you and cups your cheek. "And you love him, too. So, don't be stubborn. Go see him."
"I'm over it."
"You weren't years ago. You aren't now, and neither is he. You should have seen his latest interview in Dazed & Confused. It was basically a love letter to you."
Wonderful. So, you weren’t the only person under that impression. You think to ask her what else was said but decides against it. You’re not sure you want to know, quite frankly. What you read was enough. Too much, maybe. And none of it matters.
It’s no surprise that your mom still keep in touch with Sunghwa. What’s surprising is that your mom accepts that you will tell Sunghwa about Momo in your own time.
"You're going," Your mom announces, uncurling herself from you and standing.
"I'm not."
"You are because your daughter loves Sunghwa's music—"
"—only because of your bad influence—"
"—and you'd make her day if you took her. You do want to be known as the coolest mom ever, don't you?"
"I—"
"You do. Come on!" Your mom turns to the corridor. "Momo, love!"
At the sound of Momo's feet, you know that this is game over for you. Your mom makes her announcement—self-satisfied smirk on her lips—and Momo's face lights up brighter than Christmas morning. She shifts from foot to foot, small hands curled up in fists from excitement. Momo wraps her arms tightly around your neck, and you reluctantly squeeze her back, thinking how completely fucked you are.
//
It takes a lot longer to get to The Freebird than is strictly necessary, and for once it's not because you have a toddler in tow. You’re the one making things more difficult than they have to be, pausing every few minutes on the sidewalk and slowing down considerably after Momo begins serenading you with "Drive" from—what you’re told is—Sunghwa' second digital album.
You both do arrive somehow, though it's almost a miracle that you do without having to turn around or stop for a trip to the restroom more than once. Judging from the sound of the music, the party is well underway. And as you glance at your watch, it's no wonder; it's 9:35. You pauses at the door, holding Momo’s hand firmly to keep her from rushing inside.
It's a mistake, and you know that. Nothing good is going to come from this get together; well, nothing but making your daughter ridiculously happy. And that's almost enough to make you press on. Almost. You think that perhaps you could just explain to Momo that you’re not feeling well and maybe she can try to catch Sunghwa another time.
Yes, lying to your child.
"Great parenting," you mutter under your breath.
"Mommy!" Momo growls, looking at you with a very stern expression that so is reminiscent of heer father.
"Alright, alright. Impatient, aren't you?"
Before you can think better of it, you twist the handle and ushers Momo inside. The Freebird is packed with people, and at a quick glance, you recognize most of them. The lighting is dim, but not as low as it would normally be if the bar were open. And the music is lower, too.
No sooner than you help Momo down the two steps to the main floor, you catch sight of vibrant red hair. And then there's Hoody, kneeling to pull Momo into a tight hug. You can't help but smile at the joy on Momo's face; part of you wishes Momo got to see Hoody and Hyuk-woo more often. But it's too difficult—too painful—to visit them more than a few times a year.
They live in a different world from you now.
"How are you, pumpkin?" Hoody asks Momo.
"Very good!" She nods vigorously. "I going to see Gray."
"Are you? That'll be fun."
Hoody looks up at you, question writ on her face—are you alright? And you just shrugs.
Hoody knew about your pregnancy. She urges you to talk to Sunghwa still – however, she came to term that it is up to you to make that decision.
You feel a little better when Hoody stands to embrace you, her arms wrap tightly around your shoulders. You shut your eyes, breathes in her scent. Three months since you’ve last seen her, and it feels like forever.
"I've missed you," Hoody says.
Just as you open your eyes, the same sentiments on your lips, you freezes—mind and heart. Because, between the part of friends and acquaintances is Sunghwa.
Your eyes meet his, and the whole world fades away.
Summary:
This is an AU. You and Gray were in love. Sunghwa joined AOMG (not only as a producer but also a singer) and was offered a record deal – in which involves touring around the world. You suffer from an illness and know it’s impossible for him to follow his dreams if he stays behind for you. So in the end, the two of you part ways on bad terms. Little did Gray know, you kept a big secret from him. Now it has been nearly a decade – can the two of you reconnect?
// PART 1 //
The moment that you find yourself in the heart of the Hongdae, you immediately remember why you stopped frequenting the area a few years back. Your old hangouts bring back a lot of memories—some happy, others unwanted. You spent your youth here, in the clubs and the live bars, getting drunk with your friends and drowning in music.
Sometimes, you even sing.
Seven years ago, no one could get your pen and paper out of your hands—all you wanted was to make a living writing and singing those songs. Nothing felt as good as pouring your heart out into the lyrics. Well, nothing except Sunghwa’s warm, sweat-slicked skin on top of yours.
And Sunghwa is alive here.
You feel it as you walk past the university street. All the little bars you went to before seeing a concert at Club Madholic*.
Your life was different then, more tranquil yet thrumming with constant energy. Life with Sunghwa was a quiet whirlwind—an oxymoron that does not escape you, yet that is the only way you’re able to think of it.
Maybe that's the thing with Sunghwa—your shared life with him was a paradox. Maybe that's why it had to end. Yet this is where it started, you realize after turning in a tucked away street to a well-known door. The Freebird—most everything started here for the two of you.
Your thoughts drift to the alley, but go no further.
You can't.
You won't.
Sunghwa is gone.
You push through the door and into the small establishment. It's a bit like coming home, the atmosphere intimate and familiar. Warm. You have just enough time to straight the purse on your shoulder at the entrance before Hyuk-woo looks up from the bar.
"___, good to see you!"
"Don't act so surprised," You say with a wry grin. "You're the one who called me. What's so urgent that you needed to see me right away, anyway?”
Hyuk-woo can't resist a sheepish smile. "Straight to the point, aren’t you?"
"How is little Momo?" Hyuk-woo prompts.
"With her grandma."
“In Busan?”
"Yeah, just for the weekend. Momo is having a great time, according to my mom's messages. Sent pictures and everything, though I'm not entirely sure I want to know what sort of things they're up to."
"Give you a heart attack for sure," Hyuk-woo nods knowingly, pouring you a drink. "She has a similar love for adventure like two people I know.” He chuckles as he shakes his head, probably recalling some awful memories.
“Momo takes after you… and well…Sunghwa… You know, it’s not fair –” Hyuk-woo begins and you stop him immediately.
“Please, Loco. Let’s not bring it up.”
“Sunghwa deserves to know. He deserves to know that he has a daught –”
“It has been so long. Momo is already seven and well Sunghwa is living his life. It does not bother me in the slightest that Sunghwa knows about Momo or not– and I think before we split he makes it a point to tell me he doesn’t care regardless.” You reply trying to keep the bitterness out of your voice.
Shaking your head, you smile and grabs Hyuk-woo’s hand giving it a squeeze, “Sunghwa has forgotten about me and I have forgotten about him. Let’s not dwell on the past. Yeah?”
Unfortunately, you think. Here more than anywhere. In the corner booth, on the makeshift performance floor. You recall nights of drunken karaoke when the bar just opened, recalls one night in particular that still pains you to think of. And all the other little things, too. Stolen touches beneath the table, long looks before you and Sunghwa even knew what they meant. The heat of the lamps shining on a lone stool and microphone, the feel of gliding your calloused fingers along the strings of your acoustic as Sunghwa covers Fugee’s "Killing Me Softly ," all sexy-smooth and pain.
As you lean against the bar, your eyes are drawn to that same stool—or maybe it's not the same, but you want it to be—and you can remember vividly that night as if it were happening just now. Sunghwa always had a way about him, but nothing could compare to those moments leaning against that stool with his lips to the mic. His eyes fluttered shut when he sang with his soul, those gritty songs about loss and love.
You wonder if he still does, thinks that maybe AOMG would have taught him not to by now. Even so, the Sunghwa alive in this room would have shut his eyes to sing something like "Killing Me Softly." And you think back to the way Sunghwa’s shoulders swayed gently to that classic first riff when he played it, the way his brow would pull at "telling my whole life with her words" like he was begging for mercy.
Later, you learned that Sunghwa furrowed his brow the same way when he was making love. You could believe it then, though. Just by hearing Sunghwa, it was obvious that music and love making were practically the same thing to him.
And Christ, Sunghwa could play you like a song.
You stop there, takes a sip of you drink, and softly shakes your head. Hyuk-woo watches you patiently, and you wonder if Hyuk-woo knows how difficult coming to The Freebird is after all this time.
Maybe.
He was a friend of yours and Sunghwa before AOMG, after all.
"Sorry," You say, putting your glass down. "So, you needed to speak with me?"
Hyuk-woo immediately looks down. "Maybe now isn't the best time."
"Loco." You pause, suddenly worried that this matter is far more serious than you anticipated. "This isn't just about catching up, is it?"
Your thoughts jump to all sorts of things. While by no means you guys are as close as before, you’ve known each other for years, and you know better than anyone that sometimes it's easier to speak about serious issues with more distant friends.
"Sunghwa is playing at Club Madholic on his tour next week. We’re holding a party for him here after the show since this is where it all began, you know? I thought you might want to come."
You’re stunned, blinking rapidly as if to try to pull yourself from your shock. You allow your brain to wrap itself around the idea—Club Madholic, Sunghwa, next week, here. It's difficult, though. You have not spoken to Sunghwa in years, makes it a point not to listen to his music or follow his interviews. You have only ever heard one song, and that was enough.
The lyrics burn you, stay with you in ways that they will never—can never—stay with someone else. They were only ever meant to be sung in accompaniment to your acoustic.
Private, behind closed doors.
Not for the whole fucking world.
Not ever to achieve multi-platinum status.
Just yours.
But no. No, no, no! You’re not going to do this again. And especially not here. Not now. You don't want to give Sunghwa the satisfaction. Christ, he's not even the same Sunghwa now, though sometimes that's difficult for you to comprehend. The man you loved was not one of the most prominent solo artists in all of Asia.
He was just…Sunghwa.
Fame and fortune change people, and you’re not an idiot enough to think that they left any part of Sunghwa untouched.
"I don't think so, Loco," You say, carefully.
Hyuk-woo takes a sip of his own drink. "He'd like to see you."
"Maybe, but I don't think I can see him."
"You…"
"I've moved on," you say, voice firm.
"With who?"
"…People. What does it matter, Loco? I have a daughter to take care of."
"I’m just saying can you please meet him?”
"Loco, I'm just…"
You don’t know what you are. Tired, maybe. Of this. Of everything.
You just can't see Sunghwa again.
"Alright," Hyuk-woo concedes. "But if you change your mind, the party starts at nine."
You nod and smiles pitifully. The two of you fall into simple conversation, but your heart isn't in it. It's elsewhere—tied up in the past.
How many times had Sunghwa and you gone to Club Madholic together?
Enough.
So many times, in fact, that you can't go there without thinking of all those times you’d spent with Sunghwa. And you wonder if Sunghwa will think the same next week, wonders if he'll walk onto the stage and think, just over there she and I stood.
