should’ve been
the perfect storm
now we’ll never
know for sure
with @seulgirk
regrets hang heavy on a red string that is never tied around chorong’s wrist. she thinks seulgi and she could have been something-- best friends, partners, maybe even lovers if fate had sought to be so kind to the two of them. chorong is an idealist, as most writers tend to be, but not even fanciful imaginings nor lyrics penned to a music page were enough to obscure the reality of the situation: some people are never meant to be more than enemies.
( though... perhaps ‘enemies’ is a bit too harsh of a term; chorong doesn’t hate seulgi at all, actually, but it’s difficult to find common ground with someone who doesn’t even share the same likes, and whose music taste leaves much to be desired. )
chorong hates chi-chi for what they represent to the industry, and seulgi loves them because they inspire her to work harder. chorong likes being alone to write, finding inspiration in the buzz that surrounds her when she blends into invisibility, and seulgi likes to bother her with nonsense topics of conversation. for someone who cares for the importance of individual words and phrases, chorong can’t stand it when seulgi uses too much of them in a tumble of wanting chorong to pay attention to her. and maybe chorong would do so, if only seulgi would actually be quiet for once.
but it’s when seulgi finally does shut up, words disappearing in the act of silent, hurtful contemplation, that chorong does feel worried. it’s a stupid way to feel, especially since this is actually what the girl desires in the first place but seulgi is like a puppy, and there’s no worse realization than to discover chorong might have accidentally kicked one. seulgi doesn’t make a sound but keeps her gaze downcast and chorong is annoyed: annoyed that she’s so manipulated by this girl, irritated that she actually cares enough to want to cheer seulgi up, and completely regretful as soon as the words leave chorong’s mouth.
“-- i guess chi-chi does have one or two good songs.”
she’s a wanderess, capable of drifting down streets she’s never visited before in the unending search for something new, but there are times when chorong’s feet feel nailed to the earth’s floor-- and that includes when an unexpected visit from her step-sister keeps the girl in the realm of the other one’s desires. she doesn’t dislike seunghee-- after all, chorong’s father marrying her mother is hardly her fault either-- but it’s that their tastes don’t always match when it comes to things they like to do.
“what do you think of this dress?” seunghee’s questioning voice drifts in chorong’s direction and the latter flicks her gaze over the mannequin in the shop window. the mall is chorong’s prison this time and the girl resigns herself to the inevitable boredom of it all.
“it’s nice,” she says simply. it’s all that’s ever expected from her before seunghee goes off on her own tangent and chorong’s eyes wander elsewhere seeking nothing else except a convenient distraction from a place and time she’d rather not be. however, when the distraction does come, in the form of a high school boy with a camcorder approaching her, the girl can’t honestly deduce whether she’s grateful or flummoxed at the unanticipated development more.
“a school project?” chorong echoes after the boy briefly explains his mission to her. “yeah-- it’s just a few minutes of your time if you can spare it,” he entreats earnestly. big brown eyes look directly into chorong’s and the girl swallows, wondering if there’s any difference between this boy and an overgrown puppy; it’s not like she hasn’t been approached by males before, but never for so innocent a reason as this and one she can actually say ‘yes’ to.
“chorong, what’s this?” seunghee’s asks as she comes to stand beside chorong and peeks curiously at the boy’s camera. “an interview?”
“he wants me to rap... freestyle,” chorong explains sheepishly. seunghee’s mouth parts in surprise before a few passing moments leaves the girl shaking with laughter. “you... rapping... i’m--” her hand clamps down on chorong’s shoulder to keep her balance as seunghee continues to dissolve into giggles. “hey, kid,” seunghee gasps out, “i don’t think you’re asking the right per--”
it isn’t seunghee’s fault that chorong’s father married her mother, and it isn’t seunghee’s fault that she doesn’t know chorong’s private hobbies outside of their unplanned get-togethers. despite the rudeness the girl displays towards the boy, the ignorant behavior doesn’t dissuade chorong from showing off what she can do-- even if it’s just to put a sharp stop to that ridiculous cackling.
If I was just another dusty record on the shelf
Would you blow me off and play me like everybody else?
If I asked you to scratch my back, could you manage that?
Furthermore, I apologize for any skipping tracks
It's just the last guy that played me left a couple cracks
I used to used to used to, now I'm over that
'Cause holding grudges over love is ancient artifacts
If I could only find a note to make you understand
I'd sing it softly in your ear and grab you by the hand
Just keep it stuck inside your head, like your favorite tune
And know my heart's a stereo that only plays for you
seunghee, having frozen the moment chorong opened her mouth, only looks away as her step-sister finishes with a smile in the boy’s direction. chorong tilts her head towards the camera, asking, “is that all you need?” the boy-- whom chorong belatedly remembers introducing himself as ‘junse’ earlier-- stares at her in shock for a moment before remembering to answer her question with an eager nod. “yeah... yeah, that was great! thank you!”
collaboration with krystal jung ( @rksoojung )
video uploaded by krystal.valentine !
intrigued by a text that comes out of the blue, chorong’s prompt appearance at soojung’s place soon afterwards is hardly surprising given that artists (especially songwriters as they both are) possess a peculiar sense of time that recognizes no hands on a clock. when the muse calls-- or else, when a kindred spirit conveys excitement over a newly finished song, it’s only natural that chorong’s curiosity leads her to the other, the latter’s interest stirred at the lifeblood of new music.
“you want to record it?” chorong asks in surprise after soojung plays through the song once, allowing chorong to hear the entirety of the piece. the visitor is impressed by the raw feeling the lyrics provoke in her; soojung has composed a song awash in sincerity and it’s good. really, really good. the singer voices her enthusiasm and shows chorong the camera propped up to capture both their faces. “alright,” chorong agrees, flashing a self-conscious smile towards the lens. “but let’s try it a few times? i’m nervous.”
soojung is willing to do, of course, and the two run through their verses several times until it feels like the right take. although soojung had told chorong before that she was a singer, it’s an entirely new thing to hear the proof of it out loud when soojung sings her parts so confidently. soojung’s voice is haunting-- in the way that pierces one’s soul in its most vulnerable cracks. chorong only hopes that her contribution is worth the same estimation in soojung’s eyes.
the rapper glances at the music sheet every now and then to make sure she doesn’t forget any of the lines. soojung’s done well at providing the lyrics and it’s chorong’s job to create the rhythm that allows both rap verse and soojung’s sung verses to transition seamlessly between one another. keeping the beat by tapping her fingers against her thigh, chorong pronounces each one of soojung’s lyrics with an edge of roughness suitable to the written emotion.
All these people here
Staring and looking at me
Shaking their heads eyes
Down strong on me
What’s wrong with me?
Can you tell me now?
What’s wrong with me?
Can you tell me now?
The anger, the cruelty, I deserve it
And I’d do anything to
Be what they call perfect
Then maybe I could find
A place to call my own and belong
But if only I was strong...
soojung joins her for the harmony in the bridge, the latter’s turn to take over once chorong steers through the elegance of these joining lines.
I’ll be walking with my eyes down
Eyes down, eyes down
I’ll keep my eyes down
Eyes down, eyes down
chorong doesn’t know english-- the foreign language tough on her even after required to study it for her classes, but she listens carefully to soojung’s pronunciation as the girl sings, doing her best to mimic the sounds in her own performance. the accent makes the sound of the words themselves far from perfect but chorong’s shortcoming there is balanced with the force she provides to the verse she raps.
Stand up, fall down, up again
Up against the pressure I am in
Slowly but surely I begin
Jumping trains ‘cause I know I can win
Oh fear not ‘cause
I know I’m in His hands
Though I can’t see
I know there’s a plan
So thick the fog but
I know I can trust
The feelings that
I feel when the roads rough
soojung’s smooth voice takes over the heart of the rest and chorong is left simply listening to her, a proud smile lingering on her lips as she listens to the other girl lose herself in the singing. it’s obvious, even to chorong, that this song matters to soojung and why should it not-- especially when it’s a creation born of the other’s hard work? compositions are like children, raised and cultivated to be beautiful and beloved, and to breathe life into one as they do now can only be a cause for happiness. chorong hopes soojung is happy with their performance... for this is all chorong can possibly give to her.
“me?” chorong pipes up once the recording is finished and the camera is turned off. “what about you? your voice is lovely... really, i mean it!” it’s not that this is the first time she’s heard a compliment about her rapping skills but somehow, from soojung, the praise embarrasses her far more than whenever her mother says a similar thing. she rustles the papers in her lap and fights back the shy grin that threatens to take over.
