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As far as Jisung was concerned, he had the perfect one-two punch of double majors: ‘Music Production’ and ‘Broadcast Communications.’ He loved the thrill of performing without the pressure of an audience. He knew people would listen to the final product at some point, or actively listen to it in real time, respectively. In both cases, there were, at most, only one or two other people in the room. Usually, it was Chan in the recording booth, or Felix waiting with a smile to give an early morning news or traffic report in the radio studio. In both cases, the light signaling that the outside world should be quiet gave a red glow to the white wall outside the tiny window of similar wooden doors. In both cases, the barely tinted wall would be made more vibrant in its intensity because of when he would hit the ‘on’ button for the mic.
The middle of the night. The calmest time of day.
Jisung had an irregular sleep schedule due to his overnight shifts at the college radio station. His freshman year, he failed to understand how you could sign up for radio performance and not want to be a DJ. Listening to music for hours on end. Making a sonic masterpiece on the fly. Fooling the audience into thinking they had the technology (or the funding) to have the station be automated so he could gaze out the window of the humble house converted into the radio building, betting on an imaginary over/under of how many cars would drive by between 3 and 4AM.
But he quickly found that both majors were more complex than the simple tl;dr he created in his mind during orientation week.
Jisung found himself staring at the wall of CD’s he walked around the table too often to grab, headphones snug over his ears. Glancing to his left, he waited for the current song to count down to 0:00, left hand hovering over the microphone button of the soundboard, right hand prepared to play the next song on the computer.
“WSKZ Springfield, 89.7 FM.” He spouted the legal ID from muscle memory into the mic hanging off a boom arm, talking a little slower than normal to counter his excitement for being on air once again. He tried to never take it for granted. “J.One here with you this fine day with another song of the morning! If you have any topic ideas for this segment, make sure to call or text in, and you might have a song written, produced and played live on air just for you. Last week, someone suggested I make a cheesy song based on a color. Okay, simple enough, so I thought.” He smirked to himself, happy to take a less serious suggestion after a long string of love songs. “I was feeling a bit sentimental this week, so I decided to make a country ballad! Not that all country music is cheesy! Don’t get me wrong!” A broad smile was evident in his voice, which his small but loyal fan base knew and loved him for despite not having a “typical” radio voice like his best friend. “It’s just fun to play around with the sounds of an acoustic guitar. Not much more complicated than that, to be honest…” He took an inaudible breath to prepare for the segment’s catch phrase.
“Today’s song of the morning is “Brown” by J.One, premiering live at five, only on WSKZ, 89.7 FM.”
He clicked the file on the computer, labeled “SOTMbrown,” the same time he spoke the number seven, and the transition was, once again, flawless.
The acoustic guitar sounds he found that imitated using a slide bar kicked in, and brushes scraping against an imaginary snare drum layered in behind. The background rhythm section mingled together to support softly sung lyrics about trees in nature rooted underneath a pile of dirt, and a wooden kitchen floor evoking memories of homemade chocolate chip cookies. Despite the buoyancy of the topic’s nature, he actually found it quite hard to execute, but Jisung was never one to back away from a challenge. When Chan looked over his shoulder to glance at the first draft of the lyrics, he almost spat all over his precious ‘SotM’ notebook.
“I wouldn’t sing about poop in a radio song just because it’s brown.” He quipped, settling into the chair next to him in the recording studio earlier that week. “You can’t get away with it ‘because it’s college radio and no one is listening.’”
“But I want to make a funny song for once!” Jisung whined, even though he knew Chan was right, as his elder of only one year often was.
He grinned at the brief memory, knowing that Felix would be in soon to prepare the hour’s traffic and news. Sometimes he would come in early to listen to Jisung’s minor masterpiece of the day in person, but he texted saying he was running late. Maybe he would hear it over the airwaves with the other strangers he performed for each week.
All the joys of performing with no pressure of a live audience. A simple concept to balance out Jisung’s complex and constantly moving mind. Both were valuable parts to the river that make up Jisung’s journey, moving him downstream and landing on whatever bank life would push him towards to set up camp for a few days, weeks, months, or sometimes years.
The journey that led him to where he was today wasn’t easy, but it opened up the most beautiful parts of his heart. All thanks to his boyfriend, Lee Minho.
—-----------------------
Jisung remembers the day quite well when he came up with “Song of the Morning.” Or, at least, the concept before it had a name.
During the beginning of sophomore year, he had convinced his radio friend Felix and music friend Chan to check out the new campus cafe with him, a quaint coffee shop settled just outside the quad, tucked beneath the library parking lot. Honestly, Jisung didn’t like coffee much, which surprised people when he told them he worked overnight radio shifts. He just wanted to play matchmaker. Chan and Felix knew of each other through Jisung’s constant praise of them, but all three of them were too busy to ever hang out as a trio. Checking out the new cafe, at the sacrifice of his precious sleep, was the perfect excuse. Two foreigners in a strange land with dreams, big personalities, and even bigger hearts…of course they would fall in love!
Jisung himself didn’t know how he felt about relationships and love for himself. As a budding songwriter and producer, he knew that love songs were a cornerstone of the modern world, and something he’d need to get good at portraying. As a radio host, he played plenty of love songs for listeners to hear. Fantastical scenarios painted through lyrical prowess and a common four-chord progression that he had learned about in high school music theory. I-V-vi-IV, or some major or minor variation thereof. A secondary dominant or tritone substitution thrown in for flavor, as he would learn in college music theory later.
But that was musical love. ‘People love’ was a different story.
And that day at the coffee cafe, he saw the beginnings of love between two of his favorite people. Soft smiles and laughs shared between them. A twinkle in Chan’s eye as he sat and listened to Felix’s low and booming voice. Jisung was so proud of his people-reading abilities, if only on this rare occasion, that he didn’t even feel like a third wheel. Both of his friends continued to include him in the conversation, and he shook himself out of his thoughts when Chan asked Felix why he pursued radio.
“People think because of my voice I would want to do what Sungie does, but I’m way more interested in the news or sports side of radio.”
“Oh really?” Chan responded, surprised at his answer. “I just pictured your voice being more like, ‘smooth jazz, 97-point-9, aww yeah!’” He giggled at his poor imitation of Felix’s deep voice.
“Do you ever wonder what it would be like to have your own songs on the radio?” Felix asked Chan, but also turned towards his friend as the sun illuminated his freckles through the second story window.
“That sounds terrifying! I have to get better at making songs first!” Jisung said as he hid behind his hands.
“You’re plenty good already.” Chan playfully shoved Jisung’s shoulder hard enough to force him to remove his hands to stay balanced. After a moment, Chan’s face lit up. “You should make songs for your radio show!”
“Huh?”
“Yeah!” Chan started to bounce in his chair, excited about his idea. “You always say ‘it’s college radio and no one’s listening’ because you work overnights, right?” Jisung nodded suspiciously. “So use that time to play your own songs!”
“We have to follow a playlist though.” Jisung’s penchant for rule-following was strong, but so was his desire to break rules once he knew them well.
“You could always ask the professor if he’d let you.” Felix piped up, “He does seem to like you a lot.”
“Everyone likes me a lot.” Jisung leaned back in his chair, hands folded behind his head, putting on a false bravado.
He leaned back a bit too far, but luckily Chan caught him, gently placed the chair legs on the ground and patted his head. The three of them laughed for quite a while, going back to sip their pricy drinks considering a college student’s income. As they continued to banter back and forth, the idea of a weekly segment lingered on in Jisung’s already crowded mind. The uncertainty made him a bit nervous. Although mostly tame, callers and texters could be quite the handful during society’s generally abandoned hours. Some were coming back from clubs drunk, hitting on him and asking what he was wearing. Others would lead him down interesting and/or awkward and/or uncomfortable lines of conversation. But, for the most part, once he settled into his regular shift, those people were fewer and farther between.
Maybe Chan was a lowkey genius.
He shared the idea with his professor first, who approved it. Next, he put the idea into the universe through the radio void and got no response. Good, he thought, at least I tried and I don’t have to do it. Then, one morning, he got a call suggesting he write a song about Friday the 13th coming up later in the month. ‘There’s fear around it, sure, but it’s just another day,’ the listener suggested to him. It was a place to start. The concept of making a minor key seem silly and lighthearted intrigued him. He didn’t add lyrics to his first song, testing to see if the concept would be well-received at all. Even no reaction would be sufficient.
But then, the idea was as much of a hit as an overnight college radio segment could be.
Jisung played his creations more regularly with mixed success and, over the course of the semester, he got better at taking criticism and feedback. Though some pieces of advice contradicted each other, there were good insights that helped him get even better at what was already an innate talent. Between his constant consumption of media and the listener's ideas, he had plenty of inspiration to pull from.
Things were going well for Jisung. The view of life’s river from his current campsite wasn’t challenged. He didn’t have to change, and no one tried to change him. He could continue to show himself to others while hiding beneath the shadow of the metaphorical trees near the metaphorical beach he washed up on near his metaphorical life river. Felix and Chan relentlessly teased him about the analogy he held onto so dearly, but it worked for him. So he continued to perform only for himself and the animals in the metaphorical magical woodlands.
—-------------------
Jisung first met Minho through Chan at the beginning of his junior year, who was showing him around campus as a new transfer student to the dance program. He was technically a freshman, even though he was born a few weeks later than Chan. Jisung shared his joy of him and Felix only being one day apart. Minho kept a straight face, but his eyes lit up for a brief moment. Not much else happened during that meeting, but it seemed like he kept running into Minho everywhere around the music building. Unlike Jisung, Minho loved performing in front of others, and quickly took to making choreographies to Chan’s tracks as passionately as Jisung pursued making music alone.
A few months later, word eventually got around to Minho about Jisung’s radio segment. It wasn’t that Jisung hid ‘Song of the Morning’ from Minho. Well, not exactly. It was just…his own thing that he shared with however many people got excited as 5AM drew closer each shift. Chan knew. Felix knew. Some of his radio peers knew.
Why did Minho need to know?
“I heard your radio segment.” Minho casually remarked one day as he and Jisung hung out at the cafe, as they did on the occasional weekend morning when Jisung was actually awake before noon. “It’s pretty impressive.”
“How?”
“I was finally awake early enough to listen to it.”
“It’s not that impressive really.” Jisung brushed off the compliment, ears tinted red in embarrassment. “It’s just a way to give structure to my show.”
“You’re really good at what you do.”
“Min, stop!” Jisung slapped his shoulder playfully. “I’m not like you, you know.”
Minho’s laughter calmed down as he shot a quizzical look in Jisung’s direction. “What do you mean ‘not like you?’”
“You show your talent openly to the world. I just hide in a studio and lock the door behind me.”
“You have fans though, right?”
Jisung nodded skeptically, wondering where this was going. It wasn’t the first time Minho tried to challenge his beliefs about himself. “Yeah, and?”
“Someone mailed you a Christmas card.”
“Okay…”
“You got an entire box of gum for Valentine’s Day.”
“Okay! One, I didn’t tell him to do that. Two, I thought it was a joke when he suggested it. And three, it was kind of cree…”
“So how different are we really?”
Jisung glared Minho down in the moment, not giving him a response because he knew his friend was right. Minho always knew when to back off, which Jisung appreciated, but this time was different.
“Answer me.” Minho held his gaze.
“I don’t know, I’d have to think about it.”
“Sung,” Jisung couldn’t read his expression, but felt a sudden warmth on top of his hand. “What is there to think about?”
“A lot.”
“Tell me. I have time.”
Jisung’s mind and heart both froze. “I can’t.”
“Why? I’m here for you.”
The sincerity of Minho’s voice broke Jisung to his core. All he could feel was the pads of Minho’s fingers and thumb moving lazily across his skin. His encouraging smile gave his usually stern face a beauty Jisung rarely saw, or perhaps never noticed before. Getting to know Minho over the past semester was as easy as putting together a song, or timing his talking over a song intro with the beginning of the lyrics.
But he couldn’t face his past. Couldn’t face the reasons why performing for others was so hard. Couldn’t face the nagging at the back of his mind that Minho deserved a friend better than him. One who was constantly scared but could push through his fears anyway.
So he grabbed his bag and left without saying a word, ignoring Minho’s pleas to come back.
—————————
Jisung sat behind the stage, computer burning on his lap as he listened through his track one more time. He could have done a vocal cover and won the talent competition easily, but Jisung was never one to back away from a challenge. He put hours of effort into making this song, and even more into his performance. He studied himself in his bathroom mirror, meticulously going over his movements and facial expressions to match every lyric. He had composed music for his friends before, but never for himself.
Life contains many contradictions. On one hand, it’s quite important to have the qualities of a leader. On the other, there is the idea that you can have too many captains on a ship, or too many cooks in one kitchen. Jisung never wanted to be the captain or head cook. He just wanted to be part of the kickass support team. But there was always this pressure to be more. Being the most talented amongst his peers, there was this expectation that he would be a leader. That somehow talent inherently means you need to be this powerhouse; that you need to be a magnetic being drawing everyone to you and then repelling them away to their perfect roles. Maybe today was Jisung’s chance to show everyone they were right about him. That he wasn’t a disappointment to his teachers and family.
A poorly sung, out-of-tune ballad was consuming his senses as Jisung clicked the track back to the beginning, preparing to go up next. Winning or losing the school talent show didn’t matter. What mattered more is that Jisung lived up to his own expectations. He could win with his eyes closed, but he could shine better with them open.
“Thank you!” A weak round of applause petered out quickly. “Next up, singing his original song ‘Alien,’ Han Jisung!”
The metal folding chair clanked loudly underneath him as he stood, reminding him that this important and prestigious event he built up in his mind was being held in the high school gym. Handing his computer to the tech guy, Jisung walked towards the microphone at the center of the stage. The crowd of 100 or so looked up at him in anticipation. He purposefully picked a song with a decently long intro to settle his nerves.
“The only thing predictable about life is its unpredictability.” The voice echoed hard in his ears. The anxiety tingling just beneath his skin stayed relatively calm. “Anyone can be anything. You can be everything.”
And his performance wasn’t bad. It really wasn’t.
It wasn’t perfect. It didn’t live up to the version Jisung had in his head. But that’s not what made this moment in time so traumatic. Because if you’re a born performer…if it’s in your soul to make your own art and share it with the world, you get past a bad performance. You chalk it up to experience for next time. You try once more because the next time will peel back the tiniest layer of uncertainty and terror that comes with the inherent vulnerability of creating something for others to enjoy and sharing it with them.
Jisung knew that this was his destiny, and that many layers would need to be shed in order to reach his true potential.
But then a certain slur was shouted out just as the applause ended. Deep down, Jisung knew it was true. An acquaintance he didn’t remember the name of, because he spent too much time by himself, ran back to beat the shit out of the guy, which only reinforced the slur because, “Oh, is your boyfriend defending you? Come back here yourself, pussy!” Jisung’s heart and mind both froze at the words, stuck under the stage lights as the teachers started to break up the ensuing fight. This beautiful song that he poured his soul into and practiced into all hours of the night was instantly ruined for him. His favorite hobby was too.
The only thing predictable about life is its unpredictability.
Anyone can be anything.
But now, Jisung couldn’t be everything.
He couldn’t be anything.
He was a pussy and a f****t.
He stopped making music entirely, entering college as only a broadcast communications major.
Jisung met Chan during orientation week.
Chan convinced Jisung to sign up for Music Production 101.
And the slow process of layer shedding began.
—-----------------------------------
“Chan!” Jisung banged on the door frantically, still out of breath since he sprinted there straight from the cafe. “Channie, help me! I fucked up!”
“What are you doing up this early?” A faint voice called out, footsteps getting louder.
“Doesn’t matter, let me in!”
Not wanting to disrupt the entire floor, Chan rushed and caught Jisung’s full weight when he opened the door. Embarrassed, Jisung stood up, brushed the invisible dust off his pants in a fit of anxiety, and saw Felix over Chan’s shoulder.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt you two. I’ll just…” Jisung tried to turn around and walk back out, but Chan put a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Oh no, you don’t.” Chan’s voice was gentle, as it was in Jisung’s early college days. “You don’t try and break my door down on a Sunday before noon and not get the help you need.”
“Do you want me to leave for a bit?” Felix asked, eyes narrowed in concern.
Jisung shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know I messed up and don’t know what to do.”
The distraught young man sunk into the corner of Chan’s worn out, but surprisingly comfy, black pleather couch and curled into a ball. Knees pulled tightly into his chest by his interlocked arms, Jisung stared into space and thought about why he deserted Minho like that with no good reason. They got along great, but he didn’t want to let Minho in all the way. He didn’t want Minho to think poorly of him, because that would mean something.
What it meant though, he wasn’t quite sure.
“What happened?” Jisung suddenly noticed Felix cuddled into his side.
“Minho found out about ‘Song of the Morning’ and I freaked out on him and ran away.”
“Why?” Chan had pulled up a kitchen chair and sat far enough away to make Jisung feel comfortable.
“Because he was going to find out I was a coward and didn’t want him to.”
“Sungie,” Felix singsonged, “you’re not a coward.”
“I’m more of a coward than Min is.”
“And there are people out there braver than Minho and more scared than you.” Chan’s hands rested on Jisung’s shoes, rhythmically tapping back and forth between them. “Why does that matter?”
Jisung hummed in thought. “It matters because if he didn’t like me, it would hurt me.”
“Minho likes you, trust me.”
Jisung chuckled at this alleged fact. “How do you know?”
“Would I lie to you?”
“No, you’re Chan. Of course you wouldn’t.”
Chan gave Jisung a soft smile now that he was willing to look in front of him, dimples on full display. “You two will be okay. Just apologize to him about today.”
“You’re the best, Sungie!”
Felix rubbed his fluffy hair into Jisung’s neck for emphasis, and the curled up boy shouted out in a ticklish fervor. Chan scooped the two of them up in his arms, and they all relaxed into a group hug on the couch. Once Jisung apologized to Minho, he knew he’d feel better.
——————————-
Time went by, the apology never happened, and, not surprisingly, Jisung didn’t feel better.
He wasn’t avoiding Minho necessarily, they just silently agreed to avoid talking about what happened. It was a little awkward at first, but they went back to how they were. Everything was fine, right?
Not quite.
The universe decided to torture Jisung through the very segment Minho discovered through…being awake at 5AM? The explanation sounded odd in the moment, and even more strange upon reflection. Everyone had different sleeping habits though. Jisung was living proof for years now, so who knows what that was about.
First was the increased requests for love songs. Break-up songs, finding love in a club, successful (and unsuccessful) first dates…he made them all, even if multiple suggestions came in during the same shift. The obsession of sorting out his feelings for Minho amidst the guilt of keeping him at arm’s length was eating him alive. He thanked whatever was above for being able to make lyrics generic, or opting for instrumental tracks like the early days of the segment if the urge to write about him was too strong.
Then came what he would eventually call “the proposal shift.” It was simultaneously the most impactful moment of his radio career and pure torture. A pair of lovers called back and forth, trading song requests for one another. Little did she know he was on his way to propose to her. Jisung was on the call when the proposal actually happened. It was surreal to be so intricately woven into someone’s proposal story. The thought that in the months leading up to the wedding, or at the wedding itself, or on subsequent anniversaries, that he, Han Jisung, would be mentioned again and again, was crazy to him. They would know him by name at first, then in spirit as “that overnight DJ” as the details became more fuzzy with time.
Of course he would write a song celebrating the momentous occasion the next week! The song infused shimmers of the late winter to early spring air with the most sentimental lyrics Jisung could muster. He wasn’t writing lyrics inspired by his life, he convinced himself, but instead to commemorate a beautiful moment. The happy couple called in, grateful for his generosity and sharing his talent with them. Jisung told them that including a random college kid in such an important moment of their lives was more valuable than they could know.
His current campsite in the metaphorical woods near life’s metaphorical river was constantly windy and cold now. The dark clouds overhead would threaten to downpour and trigger a flood, but instead would release a gentle drizzle glittering in sparse sunlight. The romanticization of his internal turmoil made him feel like the universe was laughing at him instead of providing guidance.
Shockingly enough, the aftermath of the proposal shift wasn’t the breaking point of Jisung writing a song specifically about Minho. That moment, although beautiful in its own right, wasn’t what made him consciously decide to share a personal song with all of collegiate suburbia. He thought he recovered quite well.
It was just another week as spring was finally here to stay. Just another round of calls for requests and chats and general overnight shenanigans.
“FM89?” Automatic. Rehearsed. Just another listener.
“Soulmates.”
Ice filled his veins. “I’m sorry?”
“Soulmates.”
The feeling didn’t leave. “What do you mean?”
“Song of the morning. That’s you, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So do a song about soulmates.” The caller hesitated for what felt like hours. “Do you believe in them?”
Jisung studied the details of the station phone intently. “I don’t know.”
“Then maybe you’ll find out.”
“Thanks for…” The caller hung up before he could finish.
———————-
“WSKZ Springfield, 89.7 FM.”
It’s just another song. Just like any other song you’ve played. It’s not like he’ll hear it anyway.
“J.One here with you this fine day with another song of the morning! If you have any topic ideas for this segment, make sure to call or text in, and you might have a song written, produced and played live on air just for you. I must confess to the three of you listening, this was a hard suggestion for me. I had to think a lot about love, and the people in my life that I love. Falling in love and whether you can ever fall out.” He dared to let the dead air last forever and run out of the studio, embarrassed for what he was about to admit to the world. “Soulmates. Do you believe in them, one caller asked me. Write a song and maybe you’ll find out, he said, and then he hung up. My first instinct was no, I don’t. But then, as I crafted this song over the past two weeks, I realized I have one. He’s the easiest person I’ve ever talked to. He’s the one that will always be there for me, and I’ll be there for him, I hope. We don’t need to know how to help each other, we just do, and it’s perfect. And,” Tears stung in his eyes, “I hurt him. At least I think I did. I never apologized, I never owned up to it...I’ve just been ignoring what I did wrong, and yet he still loves me. He’s never said it, but he doesn’t have to, because he shows me. He shows me every day. And now, in the only way I know how, I have to show him.”
“Today’s song of the morning is “Volcano” by J.One, premiering live at five, only on WSKZ, 89.7 FM.”
The opening notes of ‘SOTMVolcano’ echoed through the studio. It felt so small, yet so vast. He let his pre-recorded heart sing into the void. Radio wave technology was invented for moments like this, and yet his song was but a dot in the infinite universe.
Tears flowed freely and soft whimpers pierced the air. It will always be Minho. Jisung couldn’t deny that now. Months of friendship felt like a lifetime of love, but the only way he could admit it was through a song on the radio. He couldn’t even gather the courage to send the file to Minho, which would literally take all of five seconds. It was more proof to himself that when things get hard, he just hides.
Jisung’s radio instincts were overridden in his grief, and multiple things became obvious once he calmed down. One, there was no music playing. Two, the microphone was on the entire time he was crying. And three, someone was banging on the studio’s locked door. He jammed his finger into the off button on the microphone, whipping behind him to grab the panic CD he learned about freshman year, playing some song by ‘The Band’ that he constantly forgot the name of. Once he saw the sound levels move again, he rushed towards the door and opened it up to two faces.
Felix and Minho.
“Uhh…”
“You two need to talk.”
Jisung looked towards the deep voice in panic. “But my shift…”
“I can run the station for however long it takes for you to fix this.”
“Fix what?”
“Us.”
Jisung couldn’t read Minho’s tone of voice with just one word, but the pain in his face was evident. Felix shoved them into the news room, across the hall from the main studio, and slammed the door behind him. Minho looked defeated as he slunk down into the room’s only chair without wheels. Jisung was confused, rolling a chair underneath him and scooting close enough to where their knees were touching.
“Min, what’s wrong?”
Minho stayed stoic, his stare fixed somewhere above Jisung’s head. “Did you mean what you said?”
“I don’t under…”
“Do you think we’re soulmates?”
“You heard?”
“Of course, dummy,” Minho shook his head, a single tear falling further down his cheek as he locked eyes with Jisung. “I listen every week.”
“Why?”
“It’s the only way I can learn more about you because you don’t tell me anything anymore ever since you ran away and I still don’t know what I did wrong to make you leave.” Minho hit Jisung’s shoulder to make his points, not being able to stop now that he was finally able to voice his frustrations. “Why are you hiding from me if you’re in so much pain? If all this time you thought we were soulmates then why the hell are you shutting me out?”
Minho fell forward onto Jisung’s left shoulder, hands bunched into fists and grabbing Jisung’s shirt for dear life. The younger was stunned. He moved to the edge of his chair to pull Minho closer to him, resting his nose in the crook of Minho’s neck.
“I thought we were okay?”
“Sungie, don’t lie to me.” Jisung felt Minho shake his head, an exasperated puff of air landing on his shoulder. “I heard what you said. I heard your lyrics, and then I heard you cry. That’s why I showed up.”
“How were you going to get in?”
“I was just going to wait until you left, but then Felix walked in and started screaming something about dead hair.”
Jisung laughed silently. “Dead air?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“Min,” Jisung gently pried the tear-stained face from his shoulder to cradle it in his hands. “I should be honest with you. The reason I left that day is I got scared you would hate me if you knew the truth about why I hate performing. I didn’t want you to think I was a coward.”
“How are you a coward?” Minho smiled brightly through his sniffles. A smile, Jisung finally realized, was there more often than not. Perhaps a smile that was there every time they hung out. “You bare your soul every week through a song that you created. That’s so far from being a coward. And they’re all beautiful, just like you.”
“Even the dumb ones?”
“Especially the dumb ones.”
Jisung’s heart was full of love for Minho. Between hanging out almost every day for months, or the garbage full of crumpled-up paper balls of rejected lyrics about him, it was surprising that Jisung ever considered that Minho would hate him. It wasn’t just his looks that drew Jisung in, but his straightforward mannerisms and weird personality. He never met another person who was so perfect for him, and hoped he never would. Because that means Minho would be gone. Jisung can’t lose him. Doesn’t want to lose him for the rest of his life.
Maybe he does believe in soulmates after all.
“Don’t leave me.” Jisung pressed their foreheads together, holding on to Minho like he might disappear. “Ever.”
“I won’t.”
“I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
They exchanged a gentle kiss full of emotion. Jisung’s mind and body didn’t freeze for the first time since that fateful high school day. He wasn’t scared for once. He was ready for whatever direction the metaphorical river would bring him. As long as he had Minho, no journey would be too rough, or bitter cold, or sweltering hot.
Jisung started to cry harder. “You’re my soulmate, Min.”
“You too, Sungie. My soulmate forever.”
“My soulmate forever plus one.”
“Plus one plus one”
Jisung kissed his forehead. “You’re so weird!”
“As if you’re normal!”
“I am plenty normal!”
Minho kissed his tears away the best he could. “Lucky for you, I like normal.”
“And I like weird...and you.”
——————————
It took a few days for Jisung to mentally prepare himself for the talk. It was time to let Minho in, and if he didn’t like Jisung anymore after that, then at least he would have bared his soul to someone safe.
It didn’t seem likely that Minho would reject him, but Jisung did write a whole song about him in shadows that were all too familiar. ‘Volcano’ was the hardest song he ever wrote. It had nothing to do with the actual production, or even the lyrics, but the sheer vulnerability he needed to finish it.
Three quick knocks on his dorm room door flooded Jisung’s body with anxiety. He hoisted himself off his mattress and brushed his hair back with his hand. Trying to look as chill as possible, he opened the door to face his fate.
“Hi,” Jisung smiled nervously.
“Hey,” Minho responded, walking past Jisung to the spot between the two standard dorm beds, “Which one is yours?”
“Right side.”
Minho made himself right at home, jumping onto the bed like he visited Jisung every day. Jisung deliberately kept Minho out of his dorm room during their friendship, though there was no good reason to do so. All the struggles back and forth with his feelings made the intimacy of a closed room seem too raw.
Minho held his arms open, back firmly against the wall. “Ready to talk?”
Jisung took a deep breath, “I’m scared, but yeah.”
“I’ll wait for however long you need me to.”
Jisung climbed onto his bed and sat on Minho’s left, only getting close enough to where their legs were pressed against each other. He took Minho’s outstretched hand into his own, and started playing with the small fingers in his lap, keeping his eyes locked there. He felt a thumb brush against his cheek, smearing the tears that were already starting to fall without having said a word. The rising anxiety of finally pulling Minho into his world swept over him in a wave of exhaustion. He plopped his head on Minho’s shoulder, tilting the trajectory of his still flowing tears, and, after many minutes, said the only thing his anxious brain could think of.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s okay to cry, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” he sighed, continuing to fiddle with Minho’s fingers, “I’m a coward, it’s what cowards do.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because I run when things get too scary.”
“Do you want to run right now?”
Jisung was perplexed, “No, I don’t.”
Minho was right. He didn’t have that same urge to run like he did that day at the cafe. But why? If he stayed, he’d have to expose himself to someone who mattered. It took him almost one year to fully open up to Chan and Felix. Rational or not, it still felt too soon. Minho was simultaneously an unknown quantity and one shared embrace away from stealing his heart.
His old life was carefree and devoid of the anxiety that’s now the undercurrent of the metaphorical river. In high school, before the incident, it was a lazy river, a water park goer’s dream; he would sprawl out in an inner tube, colored an unnatural blue like the water below, where the sun pierced the sunscreen on his arms and face to give him the perfect tan to brag about after vacation ended. Metaphorical Jisung would easily row himself with his arms towards the shore, digging his feet in the nearby beach and marveling at the physics of the sand clumping around his feet and toes. He would walk through the woods on a paved path, marveling at the wildlife darting through the tapestry of sun and shadows made by the canopy of trees overhead.
He had grown up too much for those days to return, but maybe it could get close.
“Sungie, look at me.” Minho gently turned Jisung so they were facing each other, rubbing his thumbs into Jisung’s shoulders, “No matter how bad you think you are, you won’t scare me away.”
“Even if I’m a pussy and a coward and give up too easily?”
“Even then. Every life, it will always be you.”
“You really like ‘Volcano’ that much?”
“Sure, it’s a bop,” Minho showed a soft, cat-like grin, “But it was what you said before you played it.”
Jisung averted his eyes and let out a small laugh, “What did I say?”
“You said I show you love without having to say the words. That’s a big deal for me.” Minho started to speak frantically, deciding to risk rejection himself. “I’m seen as cold and uncaring sometimes. I don’t say the right things. I don’t fucking care enough and people leave me and don’t tell me why. But you never left, no matter how many questions I asked, no matter how much I challenged you. And that day, at the cafe, I thought you finally had enough. I thought you came to the same conclusion as everyone else. After that, I was hoping you cared about me and maybe this time it would be different, but I couldn’t be sure because you never told me why. And then the song…you said I could hurt you and burn you and you’d still pick me every time. Over and over again, every life, you’d embrace me with all my flaws as your soulmate.”
“Of course.” Their hands became intertwined as Minho bared his soul, “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You cried over the thought of hurting me.”
Jisung shook his head, tightening his grip, “It wasn’t about hurting you, it was about losing you once you found out everything. About why I hide. The fact that I go through life scared and sad, and not happy like you see all the time. The fact that despite how far I’ve come, that I’m still broken.”
“We’re all broken, Ji. That doesn’t mean I love you any less.”
Jisung stared at Minho in disbelief as he was pulled into a hug, Minho rocking him gently back and forth. Jisung wrapped his arms around Minho, tracing his fingers up and down his soulmate’s spine. If there were any specks of doubt left that Minho wasn’t his person, they all but disappeared. He found the safest place to fall and the loveliest and warmest soul to confide in. As he admitted on air, Minho didn’t need to say those three words, but it meant so much that he did.
As they laid next to each other on the mattress, legs tangled and facing one another, Jisung shared everything with him. Minho never judged, but gave reassuring smiles to let Jisung know it would all be okay. They laughed and cried together as the night went on, and officially agreed to be boyfriends. As Jisung listened to Minho’s steady heartbeat beneath his ear, slowly losing consciousness, he heard the beginning words of ‘Alien’ for the first time in years.
“The only thing predictable about life is its unpredictability. Anyone can be anything. You can be everything.”
Jisung could work towards being anything he wanted, he thought as he glanced up at his boyfriend’s beautiful profile, sharpened by the room’s fading light, because Minho was his everything.
——————————-
“Now normally on ‘Song of the Morning,’ you can request a topic and I’ll make a song about it, but one of my best friends is graduating next week, so I thought I’d make a song for him. Happy graduation Channie! I’ll miss you and your talent and your cute dimples and you’re stealing my best friend from campus but that’s okay because you’re both so cute together!” Felix glared at Jisung as he and Minho tried not to laugh. “I even got my friends to sing and rap on this song too. Hopefully that will happen more often from now on.” Jisung smiled at Minho when he said that. “This is my version of a song you’ll hear a lot around this time of year. Today’s song of the morning is ‘Hip Hop and Circumstance’ by J.One featuring…basically all of my friends, premiering live at five, only on WSKZ, 89.7 FM.”
Jisung looked at Minho over the microphone and wondered what would happen if they ever decided to move in together. Their official relationship was far too new to suggest such a thing, even if they knew fate would push them together early on in their friendship.
Minho bothered Jisung long enough to finally work with him on a ‘Song of the Morning’ song. Jisung’s ‘Pomp and Circumstance’ remix was a safe place to start, so he invited all his friends to join in his process. Even though Jisung was terrified to include his friends after working on his project alone for so long, it was fun to work together as a group. After his talk with Minho, Jisung wanted to put effort into healing from his past, and there was no better way to do it than with the love and support of his friends.
“It’s so weird hearing myself on the radio!” Minho cringed at his verse as it played over the studio speakers.
Felix side-hugged Minho, sensing he was embarrassed. “You sound so good though!”
“Because I made everyone sound good!”
Minho stuck out his tongue at Jisung. “Oh please, I already sounded great! I don’t need help from your fancy production skills!”
“So you think!” Jisung wanted to stick his tongue out too, but all he could do was smile fondly.
“You two are so cute!” The three of them laughed as Jisung got the next song ready.
He thought of his metaphorical river again as he watched Minho and Felix banter back and forth. Lately, the river had been taking him quickly downstream through a set of whitewater rapids. In the past, he cascaded through them like a pinball machine with too many bumpers, enduring it alone with no assistance in sight.
It was incredible how a few years could change so much.
Now, he had a life vest in his unofficial life coach Chan; someone to keep him afloat when he panicked and thought he was drowning. He had a paddle in his best friend Felix; a sturdy companion to help guide him and keep him from carelessly running into the river banks. Finally, and officially, after far too long, he had a boat in his soulmate Minho; someone to keep him safe from any unexpected trappings in the river itself.
“Thank you guys, for everything.” Jisung leaned on the counter in front of him, trying to blink back his tears, “You have done so much for me, and I don’t tell you often enough how thankful I am.”
“You don’t have to thank us, Sung.” Felix responded in his usual cheerful way.
“We know, my love.” Minho walked towards Jisung and embraced his boyfriend tightly. “Thank you for being you.”
Jisung waddled around the studio to keep his shift going, Minho trailing behind due to his secure back hug. “You’re soft, and I like it.”
“Literally or metaphorically?”
“Both!” Jisung grinned, “I was just thinking about it. You’re my boat, Felix is my paddle, and Chan is my life vest!”
Minho looked confused, but Felix didn’t, chuckling as he looked over at the pair, “Has he ever told you about his metaphorical river of life?”
“No…”
Jisung turned around and hid in Minho’s shoulder. “Lix! Stop embarrassing me!”
“I thought you told him everything!”
“Well, yeah…I was going to bring that up eventually!” Jisung protested, arms flailing about.
“Metaphorical river? What’s that about?”
For the next hour, Jisung explained his metaphor. He told Minho about the currents dragging him downstream, and the shores he would wash up on, and the woods he would explore and find peace in, and how he used to endure it all alone. Just like their talk, Minho didn’t leave Jisung’s side. He listened attentively, asking questions about the details of his boyfriend’s inner world. At some point, Felix had enough of “all this cute nonsense” and went to the newsroom across the hall to prepare the day’s first traffic report, even though he would have ended up there anyway.
“WSKZ Springfie…AHH, hahahaha, Min, what are you? Umm…sooooo remember a while ago when I played ‘Volcano’ for ‘Song of the Morning?’ First off, thank you for making it the most downloaded song in the ‘Song of the Morning’ Spotify playlist. That’s pretty cool. Well, he found out the song was about him, and now we’re dating. He is currently tryEEEHEHEng to distract me. Would you like to say hi to the void? No? You want to play all innocent now that the mic is on? You don’t want me to introduce you to my adoring fan base? Anyway, while my boyfriend turns into a cat so he doesn’t have to talk to you all, Felix is up next with traffic. This is WSKZ Springfield, 89.7 FM…….you messed up the legal thing I have to do, so I had to do it over………..there is a recording but it would be too late to say it after this song……………………it's not stupid, it’s…oops! Hi everyone. You think I’d get better at turning the mic off after all these years. Silly J.One. Keep listening, traffic’s up next! SKZ radio, FM89.”