Morning Coffee Part 2
He was buying a journal for Seungri at the bookstore. A journal and along with that, a nice pen he thought suited the boy. He felt ridiculous for buying something for someone he barely knew, but he felt like he needed to mend some of the cracks he and Seungri had started out with. He would only continue this for a few more days, maybe another week or two, and he’d easily move on, just like that. Nothing big. Things would go back to normal between them. Honestly, Jiyong didn’t intend on becoming close friends with Seungri, being neighbors seemed like enough.
He didn’t bother wrapping the journal, but it didn’t seem as if Seungri minded. He took the gift, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Jiyong gestured to the other with his hands, pretending to open an imaginary book, and Seungri followed suit. On the first page of the journal read:
-Let’s be friends :) We can use this to talk?
And Seungri bowed a thanks to Jiyong after reading the small note.
But really, getting to know this kid didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
---
Jiyong came to visit Seungri before he went to work the following morning. He wanted to drop something off before leaving.
After sending a message, he was greeted with Seungri’s face, blotches of yellows and blues smearing patterns on his pale skin, his white t-shirt resembled the sun, the grass, the sky, splatters of black here and there, what was he painting anyway?
Whatever it was, Seungri reminded Jiyong of youth.
He laughed, a small one, and his hands suddenly got the urge to pinch the boy’s cheeks, but he resorted to handing over a small white board with a message already written on the smooth surface:
I thought we could use this to get to know each other better. Everyday, we’ll tell a fact about ourselves, one per day, slide this under my door when you’re done.
I’m 22 years old.
Seungri smiled wide - he had a crooked smile, but it was different, cute - and nodded his head twice. Jiyong motioned for a pen and something to write on, and Seungri left to get his journal, coming back after a few seconds and handing the pad to the older. Jiyong wasn’t so sure why he was asking this, it wasn’t his usual self, but he went ahead and asked anyway, scrawling on the white pages of the journal with his loopy, thin handwriting.
-Hey, after I get out of work, would you like to hang out for a bit? We could go get something to eat or drink?
Seungri seemed a bit hesitant upon reading the invitation.
-That’d be fun. What time?
Although not verbally, Jiyong considered the response the first thing Seungri had ever “said” to him, and it felt somewhat strange, but satisfying.
-It’s kind of late, but I get out of work at around 8:30, you’ll still be awake? I’ll come pick you up.
-Of course I’ll still be awake. See you then?
It was kind of awkward, having to switch back and forth writing, waiting for a reply, but it was something that probably seemed natural to Seungri, so he pushed it out of his thoughts. He waved goodbye to Seungri and headed off to work.
Jiyong could be considered an anti-social person who locked himself in his apartment. Things like hanging out with friends didn’t appeal to him, but he had to admit it:
He was kind of excited.
---
-I never properly introduced myself. My name is Seungri.
They were writing on a napkin at the small café near their apartment complex, Jiyong with his strawberry boba, enjoying the vibrant colors that came from the cup, a little too much, and Seungri with a hot mocha in a simple but large white mug, some indie French music playing softly in the background, setting the mood. Carla Bruni was it? Jiyong thought it sounded very familiar but eventually gave up on trying to recall the artist and song title. He didn’t feel like using his brain to think of trivial things like that.
-I know. Hey, I have to say this again, but I’m really sorry. That day was just a really shitty day for me.
-Hey, the past is the past. Just forget about it.
Jiyong nodded, and they sat in a comfortable silence for awhile, enjoying the music and atmosphere of the late night. Like usual, Jiyong opened the lid of his plastic cup to sip some of the whip cream at the top of the boba, and he smiled at the sweet taste of the sugary cream. At the top of his lip, residues of the whip cream remained, and Seungri couldn’t help but smirk. Was this guy really 22?
Using another napkin, he wiped Jiyong’s mouth, shyly. The elder laughed at himself, scratched his head, felt bubbly in his stomach when Seungri reached forward, wiped his mouth, that cute smile on his fa---
-Dork.
He snapped out of his thoughts, but the warm feeling he felt dwelled in his stomach.
-Yah! It’s only natural to accidentally get cream on your face when you’re eating whip cream.
Seungri only shook his head and continued chuckling softly. His voice, Jiyong thought, if he could talk, would sound scratchy.
-It’s okay, I thought it was cute.
Jiyong smiled bashfully, looked down at his lap, turned his head to look out the window, anywhere to hide his satisfied smile, then forced his gaze to peek at Seungri, who also seemed to be averting his eyes.
-Cute?
He slid the napkin across the table. Is this what they call flirting? He thought in his mind. Seungri starred at the message, glanced at Jiyong, and their eyes met for a split second, and he wrote his reply.
-Yeah.
---
I consider myself an artist.
The small white board was the first thing that greeted him upon his return to the apartment. Jiyong figured Seungri was an artist since he was always splattered in paint from head to toe. He’d never actually seen Seungri’s artwork, but he’d also never been curious. So, he found himself knocking on the boy’s door, wondering if he was even home or not. He had a piece of paper in his hands, held it up so that when Seungri opened the door, the sign was in clear view.
-Can I see your artwork?
As Jiyong intended, Seungri saw the note instantly, but not before he noticed Jiyong’s dorky grin. Instead of paint covering him, this time he had coal on his hands, black smudges on his nose and forehead where he probably scratched. He walked into the room, Jiyong following behind, and he sat down at a large black table where paper and drawing utensils scattered about. The papers on the table were big fourteen-by-eighteen sheets with drawings already started on them. Jiyong took a seat beside Seungri, placed his hand on one of the sheets of art and looked at him, as if asking permission. Seungri nodded.
They were amazing, illustrated his talent and love for art. There were drawings of women, close up portraits of people, and just by looking at the drawings, Jiyong could almost feel the emotions Seungri put into them. He traced the complex lines of the facial structures with his fingertips, smoothed them over the shadows, along the curves of the lips, eyes, nose. His fingers were probably black like Seungri’s from touching the coal, the lead on the papers, but he didn’t care.
As if minding his own business, Seungri was back to drawing what he had probably been working on before he knocked. Jiyong grabbed at the journal that sat at the corner of the table.
-Draw me.
He read the note, turned his head towards Jiyong, and shook his head while smiling. He grabbed a new sheet of paper anyways. Instead of coal, he drew with pencil. Jiyong watched Seungri’s hand as it moved here and there, creating the delicate structures of his face and the sharp shape of his jaw. He’d glance at Jiyong every now and then, his hand duplicating what he saw and printing it right onto the paper in front of him.
At some point when Seungri was drawing his lips, Jiyong’s gaze trailed to the younger’s face, completely focused, immersed in what he was working on. Upon closer inspection, he looked different than from the time they first “met” in the hallway. His eyes were small, dark circles standing out, and he had a small nose. Seungri was young, but from his features, one could tell he was mature, as if he’d experienced a lot in his 19 years. He looked lonely.
His eyes trailed down his face, to his lips. They were thin, ones that curved crookedly when he smiled, the bottom lip getting caught between his teeth out of habit from his concentration. They looked soft, and Jiyong couldn’t help but lean forward, closer, leaving the space between them to decrease gradually.
He wasn’t thinking when he kissed him on the corner of his mouth. Seungri never finished that drawing the rest of Jiyong’s stay.
That day was the last day of summer and the beginning of fall.
---
They’d only recently become friends, but he still felt somewhat pained when Jiyong had pulled away and stuttered out a small I have to go now and left him to sit there, confused. He had this look in his eyes, it looked like he regretted what he did, but why? He pushed the drawing aside when Jiyong shut the door, and it was left unfinished for the rest of the day.
But, that moment had already passed, and Seungri tried to forget it.
He pulled off his shirt, his eyes lingering over the few random scars splattered over various parts of his torso, and he remembered how he got each and every one of them. His fingertips traced the scars.
He was devastated when he lost his hearing, and all the pride he once had vanished. He began living an entirely new life, and he was unhappy. He stopped speaking altogether because he didn’t even know if he was talking normally or just mumbling something that didn’t make sense. He got sucked into a world of pain, both mentally and physically.
Then he discovered art, and instantly fell in love.
Seungri stepped into the shower and sighed contently as he stood under the hot water. Memories began flashing in his mind, and he tried forcing them out. He would always try overcoming these inner struggles with himself, but he found forgetting the incident almost near impossible.
“You think you’re all hot shit ‘cause you can dance? Come here and step on us like that and think you’re better than us?”
“All I was doing was joining in on that dance battle. It’s not called a battle for nothing.” Seungri smirked and took a sip from his bottle of water.
They were at an outdoor concert. It was some sort of musical festival where many of the high school students in the city gathered, and Seungri was one of them. He was just trying to have a good time, and he only wanted to join in on that dance battle. People cheered for him, slapped him on the back, girls flirted with him and praised his skills, and he never noticed the expression on his opponents’ faces.
Now, they were mad, and they were going to do something about it. There were about four guys, and Seungri’s small figure was nothing compared to theirs, but that didn’t faze him. He wasn’t even intimidated by them. He knew who these guys were, could recognize one of the faces in particular instantly as Seunghyun, his older brother.
“You’ve got a big mouth, Seungri. Look, this isn’t your scene. I’ll give you a chance to get your ass out of here.”
“Can you guys seriously just not accept defeat? I beat you guys, it’s called competition. Get over it, hyung. We all knew from the start that I could dance better than you anyways.”
With that, Seungri turned to walk away, but Seunghyun threw his drink at the back of his head. The liquid splashed all over his shirt and his hair, and it was then that Seungri ever regretted throwing the first punch. In return, someone swung a fist and caught him at the side of his head. His vision became blurry and his mind disoriented, and they took that chance and dragged him out of the crowd of people to the side of the stage. They backed him into one of the large speakers; the base was blasting and the music roaring incredibly loud. The darkness consumed them, and no one in the audience could spot them. Seunghyun had one of his friends put the headphones that draped around his neck on his head to cover his ears while he held Seungri still. He smashed the side of Seungri’s face against the speaker, positioned his head so his ear was perfectly flat against the speaker.
“Tell me you’re nothing but an inconsiderate, disrespectful brother and I’ll let you go.”
It was too loud. He couldn’t take it, and his ears felt like they were bleeding. He tried thrashing against his brother, tried throwing in a punch, but the force of the hand against his head was too strong.
He was yelling. “HELP! SOMEONE FUCKING HELP ME! Please, hyung, let me go.” It was impossible to hear his yells from where they were though. He couldn’t even hear the yells himself.
One of the coordinators from the back walked by, noticed them, and the four guys ran off, became hidden in the crowd. Seungri slouched to the ground, tears smearing his cheeks, he could feel his heart pounding heavily, but he couldn’t hear the pulse in his ears. His blood pressure dropped, and the last thing he heard before he fainted was the dull humming of the music until it faded into silence.
Part 3