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Junsu/Tablo
Romance, General
No talk, no play, no love. Tablo doesn't seem to understand.
zero.
no talk.
There were rebellions in the earlier days, back when people still had voices and emotions and knew how to feel. The new system had taken a hold of the ones with the power, though, and slowly but surely, each voice was crushed until the only evidence left of it was glimmers of song, whispers of what had been, and eventually, those faded, too. Time is cruel enough to make people forget, but that is the way things are. The system tells them that this is the way things were always supposed to be. Somehow, the voice of the system overpowers the voice of the people, and soon, the people forget they have a voice. They do not remember that they ever had one.
no play.
But that's not where the system stops - no, the system takes over every corner, every crevice, because it has power and power corrupts into wanting more power - a never ending cycle of greed. The system destroys all evidence of leisure, of enjoyment - destruction is forced upon films and television and electronics, libraries full of books for knowledge and books for enjoyment and books for living burned down as though they're worth nothing. And music, music - the people lose their music, lose their air and expression and lives. It's the way things are supposed to be, says the system.
The people have forgotten to defy, to believe in themselves and each other and to take comfort in happiness. They believe in the system, instead, and take comfort in routine. No play - it becomes an echo until the words mean nothing because there's no one there to argue. It’s because they're safe like this. They're safe.
no love.
And love - love's the center of it all, the center of their problems (and the center of their worlds, once, but now only some try to remember). Any evidence of love is always followed by pain, the people learn, and most give it up before they even try to see what it is like, just for their desire to survive. They don't seem to realize that this isn't living.
Love, friendship, family - all words that are whispered in darkened shadows and all with fear, all once in a lifetime. There are stories, in some of the remaining books, the ones from before the system came into power. They're about hope and loss and new beginnings, and there's something beautiful about them even though the system says that pain is always hand in hand with everything that gives off an illusion of being good. That is the price to pay for happiness, and it is too heavy. That is why the system exists. That is why there is no love.
one.
Junsu's young, around fifteen, when he and Tablo meet. It's a little by accident, because Junsu's not feeling well - he stumbled away from the ordered lines and by some miracle, the guard at the front of the line didn't see him. Junsu doesn't feel surprised (or anything at all) by this - no one ever makes any attempt to escape. Even now, Junsu, making his way through an alley he's never seen before, knows that he'll find his way home (home?) eventually, that he'll go back to the lines eventually. There's not really anywhere else to go.
It's dark and the air is musty, and he trips over Tablo's feet and falls. Junsu scrambles up, eyes wide and slightly frightened of the groaning mass of limbs on the ground. He kneels tentatively then, pokes the body - realizes it's a man, and he's alive, except asleep. It startles Junsu because it's different; it's not every day he comes across a man lying asleep in an alley.
"Hey," says Junsu, voice a little raspy from disuse. He prods the man with his finger a bit harder than intended. "Hey, wake up."
"Nngn," groans the man, and then his eyes shoot open and he gets up quickly (odd because he'd been asleep, but as though he always has to stay a little alert). He moves his hands around him in strange, wild-seeming motions. Junsu wonders what's wrong with him. "Wha? Who're you?" The man eyes Junsu warily.
Junsu stands up, too, and doesn't smile. "Junsu." He doesn't know why he's telling this stranger, but it doesn't really matter.
"Ehh, you're not a guard," says the man, looking disgruntled but relieved. "So why'd you wake me up?"
Junsu's surprised when he realizes that he doesn't have a reason. "I... don't know," he says. "Why were you asleep here?"
"Better here than there," the man says vaguely. He assesses Junsu one last time and then sighs, dropping his hands back to his sides and relaxing. "I'm Tablo," he says, and smiles at Junsu. It's a little too wide, a little crooked, and Junsu thinks he's never seen anything stranger.
"You're strange," says Junsu.
"Thanks," says Tablo. "Do you know what a guitar is?" He indicates the large... thing lying on the ground next to where he was and Junsu shakes his head. The man - Tablo - grins again, and Junsu doesn't know what to do or say or feel. He's not supposed to be feeling. He isn't.
"No."
Tablo’s eyes crinkle at the edges when he smiles, Junsu observes, and they look like little upside-down half-moons. "I'll show you," he says.
two.
Junsu discovers that Tablo's different, even though something told him that the first day they met when Junsu tripped over him. But he's different different - he talks freely, about the way things were once and about dreaming and music, except it's not the way the system describes those same things. When Tablo talks about them, he's got something in his eyes, and they shine, and if Junsu knew how, he might put that feeling that he gets with Tablo into words (content; alive).
Tablo talks about freedom and playing and loving (Junsu's scared, so scared, and he doesn't know if he's scared of getting caught for associating with someone like Tablo or if he's scared about what's happening to him or the thrill or just everything). He talks about living.
"Junsu," Tablo says one day, when he's done writing the lyrics to another song after hours of slaving away over pieces of crumbling paper. (Junsu wonders why and some part of him understands a little, just a little, when he reads them over Tablo's shoulder later.) "Have you ever lived?"
Junsu acts oblivious. "I'm pretty sure I'm breathing right now," he says. He never used to say things like that. Tablo's given him a voice, and even though it's quiet, it's there.
(And they're almost friends - the word is so foreign to Junsu that he is frightened of voicing it, so he doesn't.)
"You know what I mean," says Tablo, waving him off impatiently. He looks at his lyrics, looks at his guitar, and then looks at Junsu, dark eyes intense and unsettling. "I mean, lived."
Junsu says that he doesn't know what Tablo is talking about. Tablo looks disappointed and Junsu pushes the small amount of guilt away. Tablo's being Tablo, that's all. Junsu's got nothing to be guilty about.
two and a half.
Tablo teaches Junsu how to sing and play guitar - he's surprised that Junsu's got such a pleasant voice and that he's a quick learner, but he's ecstatic about it and Junsu feels something when he sees that grin. It's not detachment or that feeling of nothing he always has (had) - it's quiet and large and it feels like Junsu's chest is filled up with it. Junsu thinks he should stop being surprised by Tablo, but he is anyway when he realizes that there is a name for the feeling, and it's happiness.
three.
Junsu laughs for the first time on a dark night, and it's when Tablo trips over a music stand he's made out of an abandoned metal pole and some wood he found god-knows-where. Tablo's surprised by it, but he gets over it quickly, and he laughs with Junsu. Junsu wonders why he isn't afraid, because guards can be anywhere, the system could be watching out of the shadows. He wonders why he doesn't care and looks at Tablo, Tablo's eyes and his smile and his laugh and his thick glasses and his music, and he knows.
Tablo sits up, puts a solemn look on his face even though there's still a smile in his eyes, and he says, "Junsu."
"Yes?"
"I - I have an idea." Tablo's got an awkward feeling to him, shuffling with the papers in his hands, and Junsu waits. "I have a friend, her name's Boa. She knows another woman named Bora, and they were both - well, they were both talking to me, and we want to rebel." Tablo looks up from his paper, looks Junsu in the eyes with sudden determination. "We want to be free."
"Why?" Junsu asks. He can't help himself, because even though they're repressed, now he's got this. He's afraid of losing it.
Tablo looks at him for a moment, silent, and Junsu wonders if maybe he shouldn't have said that. "Because I want you to know how to live."
four.
Junsu goes along with it - he even wears the funny clothes Tablo gives him and dyes his hair a dark red. He meets Boa and Bora, learns how to play his music with theirs, feels their hearts beat in unison because music's the language they all understand. They gather late at night, at the edge of the city and near the waste dumps where no one ever goes, but it's worth it, Tablo says.
Junsu's never been tired before this because he's always asleep early and awake early, but there's something refreshing in waking up past noon and seeing Tablo's face there, just like always.
And it's not just that - he thinks that this is a feeling that's indescribable, when he sings and when he's with Tablo, when he's with the others, when they're making music for themselves but most of all for freedom, for everyone. It's not selfish and Junsu feels proud of it, feels surprised that he's proud of it, but he loves (loves!) being with them. Tablo says this is a shadow of what living really is, and Junsu's enthralled with the possibility of there being more (isn't this too wonderful already?).
And it's strange when Junsu realizes that he's not just doing this for Tablo, but for himself, because he wants to know how to live, too.
five.
Then they’re on the roof. They’ve been preparing for weeks, months, but Junsu’s still a little afraid - they all are, because they’re ready but at the same time they will never be, at the same time they’ve always been. It’s all a bit too hard for Junsu to comprehend so he tries to concentrate on the task at hand (getting it done, avoiding capture and the loss of any chance they have and dying).
But he’s not sure if they’re (he’s) ready to risk everything, because now, (he looks at his guitar, looks at Bora’s quiet smile and Boa’s loud enthusiasm and Tablo, everything about Tablo.) he has something that he thinks that he doesn’t want to lose.
But it’s something worth fighting for, he thinks then, because he’s not alone, never has been, really - for the first time, when he’s on that roof, looking down at the ground, looking at his companions (his friends), he realizes what Tablo might have really meant when he asked Junsu if he’s lived, because now Junsu knows that he was breathing, surviving, feeling his heart beat, but he wasn’t living.
And then, before he knows it, the first stage is done and they’ve escaped, they’re safe, and Junsu feels liberated even though it’s just a step. They all do - Boa’s grinning like no tomorrow and Bora looks as though she might cry, but only because she is happy. Tablo’s restless on his feet and expressionless for once, but then he barks a sudden laugh that’s so uncontrolled and free that it makes laughter catch in Junsu’s throat and in his face, too.
They’re all grinning like madmen, and there’s a feeling like static in the air - it buzzes through Junsu’s veins, makes him stop thinking for a second, and in that second, he kisses Tablo right on his smiling mouth. Tablo looks stunned and nobody makes any noise, not even Boa, and Junsu - Junsu’s cursing himself with everything he has (why does he have to be so damn stupid, why did he do that, why isn’t Tablo saying anything).
But then Tablo smiles that smile, smiles it with his eyes and his mouth and his heart. Boa’s overcome by something, suddenly, and grumbling about what a pain they all are, she forces them into a group hug and squeezes tightly - somehow, Junsu and Tablo end up next to each other, Bora and Boa across from them, and they’re laughing, a group, a family. Nothing’s changed, but something in Junsu’s heart has. He knows Tablo knows, knows that Tablo accepts it, and he doesn’t need to hear the words that will confirm it, because Tablo’s been penning these lyrics - baring his soul - with Junsu, all along. (For him.)
six.
Junsu’s restless, now, because they’re finally going to do it, finally going to sing the second song with everything they have in just forty minutes. They’re going to start moving to their separate building in five to set up equipment (and because a lot can go wrong in forty minutes). Tablo’s silent and reading his lyrics over and over again on his worn paper even though Junsu knows that they’ve all got the words ingrained into their minds, like the prayers from the old days.
“Junsu,” says Tablo, suddenly, looking at him. Junsu stares back, startled.
“Yes?”
“There were places, once,” Tablo starts. “They’re still there, I guess, but no one’s moved around for years so I can’t confirm it. But these places - they’re different countries. It’s not just here that people live, but there’s an entire world out there. Before the system took over, we used to be able to travel freely, try different foods and lifestyles and make different friends in these different countries. Now, there’s…” Junsu knows where that sentence ends, even though Tablo doesn’t complete it. Nothing.
“But - but they’re still there, because there’s no way the system would have taken over just this place. They must’ve taken over everything.” Tablo’s face is grim, determined. This is what they’re fighting to change.
“I know,” says Junsu, because he doesn’t really know what else to say.
“Yes,” says Tablo, looking very awkward all of a sudden. “Yes.”
Two minutes left.
“Yes, what I mean is -” Tablo clears his throat, shuffles his papers, and Junsu knows that he is nervous. “What I mean is, when this is all over, when - when the system is gone and Boa and Bora are going to be looking out here… what I mean is, when this is all over, will you go with me? To see the other countries, to see the world, to save them, too -” Tablo doesn’t seem to realize he’s babbling but Junsu doesn’t care.
“Yes,” Junsu says, quietly. “There’s no place I’d rather be.” Tablo grins at Junsu, happy and relieved. Junsu thinks that Tablo might think that he means, there’s no place I’d rather be than somewhere I can help people, and that much is true, but what he really, really means is, there’s no place I’d rather be than with you.
“It’s a promise,” Tablo replies, just as quiet, suddenly solemn. Junsu turns back to his guitar before Tablo sees everything in his eyes (because even though he can’t hide himself from Tablo, he has to try).
Thirty seconds.
They’re going to leave to free their city and eventually their country, to challenge the government and everything they’ve ever known. It’s frightening, almost too frightening, but Junsu’s beginning to forget how to be scared because now he feels. It’s dangerous, this - there’s a reason the system is terrified of it. But it’s the price of being alive, of being human, and the world has got to accept it. It’s a small price to pay for everything Junsu has come to know, ever since he’s met Tablo. Talking, playing - loving.
Fifteen.
Tablo’s eyes are dark with some emotion Junsu can’t name, and he presses his hand against Junsu’s, whispers goodbye almost against his lips (Junsu feels his breath, wispy and warm, and the sensation makes Junsu feel strange). Junsu’s rooted to the spot when Tablo’s left, and then he realizes that Tablo had pressed not only his hand into Junsu’s, but a crumpled, little piece of paper as well.
It has one of the lines of their song written on it. I’ll always be with you, whatever it means. Promise you.
Then, under the words, something else is scrawled, messy, with the letters too close in Tablo’s hurried handwriting. It’s been smudged.
You’re my song on a constant playback.
Junsu stares at the paper, then smoothes out the wrinkles in it as best as he can and folds it slowly, tucking it into his jacket’s pocket, and then he walks, runs for his guitar and then for his destination. He’s - they are going to do this. For themselves, for the people, for the future.
For you.
2008-07-13
Junsu/Tablo
Romance, General
No talk, no play, no love. Tablo doesn't seem to understand.
zero.
no talk.
There were rebellions in the earlier days, back when people still had voices and emotions and knew how to feel. The new system had taken a hold of the ones with the power, though, and slowly but surely, each voice was crushed until the only evidence left of it was glimmers of song, whispers of what had been, and eventually, those faded, too. Time is cruel enough to make people forget, but that is the way things are. The system tells them that this is the way things were always supposed to be. Somehow, the voice of the system overpowers the voice of the people, and soon, the people forget they have a voice. They do not remember that they ever had one.
no play.
But that's not where the system stops - no, the system takes over every corner, every crevice, because it has power and power corrupts into wanting more power - a never ending cycle of greed. The system destroys all evidence of leisure, of enjoyment - destruction is forced upon films and television and electronics, libraries full of books for knowledge and books for enjoyment and books for living burned down as though they're worth nothing. And music, music - the people lose their music, lose their air and expression and lives. It's the way things are supposed to be, says the system.
The people have forgotten to defy, to believe in themselves and each other and to take comfort in happiness. They believe in the system, instead, and take comfort in routine. No play - it becomes an echo until the words mean nothing because there's no one there to argue. It’s because they're safe like this. They're safe.
no love.
And love - love's the center of it all, the center of their problems (and the center of their worlds, once, but now only some try to remember). Any evidence of love is always followed by pain, the people learn, and most give it up before they even try to see what it is like, just for their desire to survive. They don't seem to realize that this isn't living.
Love, friendship, family - all words that are whispered in darkened shadows and all with fear, all once in a lifetime. There are stories, in some of the remaining books, the ones from before the system came into power. They're about hope and loss and new beginnings, and there's something beautiful about them even though the system says that pain is always hand in hand with everything that gives off an illusion of being good. That is the price to pay for happiness, and it is too heavy. That is why the system exists. That is why there is no love.
one.
Junsu's young, around fifteen, when he and Tablo meet. It's a little by accident, because Junsu's not feeling well - he stumbled away from the ordered lines and by some miracle, the guard at the front of the line didn't see him. Junsu doesn't feel surprised (or anything at all) by this - no one ever makes any attempt to escape. Even now, Junsu, making his way through an alley he's never seen before, knows that he'll find his way home (home?) eventually, that he'll go back to the lines eventually. There's not really anywhere else to go.
It's dark and the air is musty, and he trips over Tablo's feet and falls. Junsu scrambles up, eyes wide and slightly frightened of the groaning mass of limbs on the ground. He kneels tentatively then, pokes the body - realizes it's a man, and he's alive, except asleep. It startles Junsu because it's different; it's not every day he comes across a man lying asleep in an alley.
"Hey," says Junsu, voice a little raspy from disuse. He prods the man with his finger a bit harder than intended. "Hey, wake up."
"Nngn," groans the man, and then his eyes shoot open and he gets up quickly (odd because he'd been asleep, but as though he always has to stay a little alert). He moves his hands around him in strange, wild-seeming motions. Junsu wonders what's wrong with him. "Wha? Who're you?" The man eyes Junsu warily.
Junsu stands up, too, and doesn't smile. "Junsu." He doesn't know why he's telling this stranger, but it doesn't really matter.
"Ehh, you're not a guard," says the man, looking disgruntled but relieved. "So why'd you wake me up?"
Junsu's surprised when he realizes that he doesn't have a reason. "I... don't know," he says. "Why were you asleep here?"
"Better here than there," the man says vaguely. He assesses Junsu one last time and then sighs, dropping his hands back to his sides and relaxing. "I'm Tablo," he says, and smiles at Junsu. It's a little too wide, a little crooked, and Junsu thinks he's never seen anything stranger.
"You're strange," says Junsu.
"Thanks," says Tablo. "Do you know what a guitar is?" He indicates the large... thing lying on the ground next to where he was and Junsu shakes his head. The man - Tablo - grins again, and Junsu doesn't know what to do or say or feel. He's not supposed to be feeling. He isn't.
"No."
Tablo’s eyes crinkle at the edges when he smiles, Junsu observes, and they look like little upside-down half-moons. "I'll show you," he says.
two.
Junsu discovers that Tablo's different, even though something told him that the first day they met when Junsu tripped over him. But he's different different - he talks freely, about the way things were once and about dreaming and music, except it's not the way the system describes those same things. When Tablo talks about them, he's got something in his eyes, and they shine, and if Junsu knew how, he might put that feeling that he gets with Tablo into words (content; alive).
Tablo talks about freedom and playing and loving (Junsu's scared, so scared, and he doesn't know if he's scared of getting caught for associating with someone like Tablo or if he's scared about what's happening to him or the thrill or just everything). He talks about living.
"Junsu," Tablo says one day, when he's done writing the lyrics to another song after hours of slaving away over pieces of crumbling paper. (Junsu wonders why and some part of him understands a little, just a little, when he reads them over Tablo's shoulder later.) "Have you ever lived?"
Junsu acts oblivious. "I'm pretty sure I'm breathing right now," he says. He never used to say things like that. Tablo's given him a voice, and even though it's quiet, it's there.
(And they're almost friends - the word is so foreign to Junsu that he is frightened of voicing it, so he doesn't.)
"You know what I mean," says Tablo, waving him off impatiently. He looks at his lyrics, looks at his guitar, and then looks at Junsu, dark eyes intense and unsettling. "I mean, lived."
Junsu says that he doesn't know what Tablo is talking about. Tablo looks disappointed and Junsu pushes the small amount of guilt away. Tablo's being Tablo, that's all. Junsu's got nothing to be guilty about.
two and a half.
Tablo teaches Junsu how to sing and play guitar - he's surprised that Junsu's got such a pleasant voice and that he's a quick learner, but he's ecstatic about it and Junsu feels something when he sees that grin. It's not detachment or that feeling of nothing he always has (had) - it's quiet and large and it feels like Junsu's chest is filled up with it. Junsu thinks he should stop being surprised by Tablo, but he is anyway when he realizes that there is a name for the feeling, and it's happiness.
three.
Junsu laughs for the first time on a dark night, and it's when Tablo trips over a music stand he's made out of an abandoned metal pole and some wood he found god-knows-where. Tablo's surprised by it, but he gets over it quickly, and he laughs with Junsu. Junsu wonders why he isn't afraid, because guards can be anywhere, the system could be watching out of the shadows. He wonders why he doesn't care and looks at Tablo, Tablo's eyes and his smile and his laugh and his thick glasses and his music, and he knows.
Tablo sits up, puts a solemn look on his face even though there's still a smile in his eyes, and he says, "Junsu."
"Yes?"
"I - I have an idea." Tablo's got an awkward feeling to him, shuffling with the papers in his hands, and Junsu waits. "I have a friend, her name's Boa. She knows another woman named Bora, and they were both - well, they were both talking to me, and we want to rebel." Tablo looks up from his paper, looks Junsu in the eyes with sudden determination. "We want to be free."
"Why?" Junsu asks. He can't help himself, because even though they're repressed, now he's got this. He's afraid of losing it.
Tablo looks at him for a moment, silent, and Junsu wonders if maybe he shouldn't have said that. "Because I want you to know how to live."
four.
Junsu goes along with it - he even wears the funny clothes Tablo gives him and dyes his hair a dark red. He meets Boa and Bora, learns how to play his music with theirs, feels their hearts beat in unison because music's the language they all understand. They gather late at night, at the edge of the city and near the waste dumps where no one ever goes, but it's worth it, Tablo says.
Junsu's never been tired before this because he's always asleep early and awake early, but there's something refreshing in waking up past noon and seeing Tablo's face there, just like always.
And it's not just that - he thinks that this is a feeling that's indescribable, when he sings and when he's with Tablo, when he's with the others, when they're making music for themselves but most of all for freedom, for everyone. It's not selfish and Junsu feels proud of it, feels surprised that he's proud of it, but he loves (loves!) being with them. Tablo says this is a shadow of what living really is, and Junsu's enthralled with the possibility of there being more (isn't this too wonderful already?).
And it's strange when Junsu realizes that he's not just doing this for Tablo, but for himself, because he wants to know how to live, too.
five.
Then they’re on the roof. They’ve been preparing for weeks, months, but Junsu’s still a little afraid - they all are, because they’re ready but at the same time they will never be, at the same time they’ve always been. It’s all a bit too hard for Junsu to comprehend so he tries to concentrate on the task at hand (getting it done, avoiding capture and the loss of any chance they have and dying).
But he’s not sure if they’re (he’s) ready to risk everything, because now, (he looks at his guitar, looks at Bora’s quiet smile and Boa’s loud enthusiasm and Tablo, everything about Tablo.) he has something that he thinks that he doesn’t want to lose.
But it’s something worth fighting for, he thinks then, because he’s not alone, never has been, really - for the first time, when he’s on that roof, looking down at the ground, looking at his companions (his friends), he realizes what Tablo might have really meant when he asked Junsu if he’s lived, because now Junsu knows that he was breathing, surviving, feeling his heart beat, but he wasn’t living.
And then, before he knows it, the first stage is done and they’ve escaped, they’re safe, and Junsu feels liberated even though it’s just a step. They all do - Boa’s grinning like no tomorrow and Bora looks as though she might cry, but only because she is happy. Tablo’s restless on his feet and expressionless for once, but then he barks a sudden laugh that’s so uncontrolled and free that it makes laughter catch in Junsu’s throat and in his face, too.
They’re all grinning like madmen, and there’s a feeling like static in the air - it buzzes through Junsu’s veins, makes him stop thinking for a second, and in that second, he kisses Tablo right on his smiling mouth. Tablo looks stunned and nobody makes any noise, not even Boa, and Junsu - Junsu’s cursing himself with everything he has (why does he have to be so damn stupid, why did he do that, why isn’t Tablo saying anything).
But then Tablo smiles that smile, smiles it with his eyes and his mouth and his heart. Boa’s overcome by something, suddenly, and grumbling about what a pain they all are, she forces them into a group hug and squeezes tightly - somehow, Junsu and Tablo end up next to each other, Bora and Boa across from them, and they’re laughing, a group, a family. Nothing’s changed, but something in Junsu’s heart has. He knows Tablo knows, knows that Tablo accepts it, and he doesn’t need to hear the words that will confirm it, because Tablo’s been penning these lyrics - baring his soul - with Junsu, all along. (For him.)
six.
Junsu’s restless, now, because they’re finally going to do it, finally going to sing the second song with everything they have in just forty minutes. They’re going to start moving to their separate building in five to set up equipment (and because a lot can go wrong in forty minutes). Tablo’s silent and reading his lyrics over and over again on his worn paper even though Junsu knows that they’ve all got the words ingrained into their minds, like the prayers from the old days.
“Junsu,” says Tablo, suddenly, looking at him. Junsu stares back, startled.
“Yes?”
“There were places, once,” Tablo starts. “They’re still there, I guess, but no one’s moved around for years so I can’t confirm it. But these places - they’re different countries. It’s not just here that people live, but there’s an entire world out there. Before the system took over, we used to be able to travel freely, try different foods and lifestyles and make different friends in these different countries. Now, there’s…” Junsu knows where that sentence ends, even though Tablo doesn’t complete it. Nothing.
“But - but they’re still there, because there’s no way the system would have taken over just this place. They must’ve taken over everything.” Tablo’s face is grim, determined. This is what they’re fighting to change.
“I know,” says Junsu, because he doesn’t really know what else to say.
“Yes,” says Tablo, looking very awkward all of a sudden. “Yes.”
Two minutes left.
“Yes, what I mean is -” Tablo clears his throat, shuffles his papers, and Junsu knows that he is nervous. “What I mean is, when this is all over, when - when the system is gone and Boa and Bora are going to be looking out here… what I mean is, when this is all over, will you go with me? To see the other countries, to see the world, to save them, too -” Tablo doesn’t seem to realize he’s babbling but Junsu doesn’t care.
“Yes,” Junsu says, quietly. “There’s no place I’d rather be.” Tablo grins at Junsu, happy and relieved. Junsu thinks that Tablo might think that he means, there’s no place I’d rather be than somewhere I can help people, and that much is true, but what he really, really means is, there’s no place I’d rather be than with you.
“It’s a promise,” Tablo replies, just as quiet, suddenly solemn. Junsu turns back to his guitar before Tablo sees everything in his eyes (because even though he can’t hide himself from Tablo, he has to try).
Thirty seconds.
They’re going to leave to free their city and eventually their country, to challenge the government and everything they’ve ever known. It’s frightening, almost too frightening, but Junsu’s beginning to forget how to be scared because now he feels. It’s dangerous, this - there’s a reason the system is terrified of it. But it’s the price of being alive, of being human, and the world has got to accept it. It’s a small price to pay for everything Junsu has come to know, ever since he’s met Tablo. Talking, playing - loving.
Fifteen.
Tablo’s eyes are dark with some emotion Junsu can’t name, and he presses his hand against Junsu’s, whispers goodbye almost against his lips (Junsu feels his breath, wispy and warm, and the sensation makes Junsu feel strange). Junsu’s rooted to the spot when Tablo’s left, and then he realizes that Tablo had pressed not only his hand into Junsu’s, but a crumpled, little piece of paper as well.
It has one of the lines of their song written on it. I’ll always be with you, whatever it means. Promise you.
Then, under the words, something else is scrawled, messy, with the letters too close in Tablo’s hurried handwriting. It’s been smudged.
You’re my song on a constant playback.
Junsu stares at the paper, then smoothes out the wrinkles in it as best as he can and folds it slowly, tucking it into his jacket’s pocket, and then he walks, runs for his guitar and then for his destination. He’s - they are going to do this. For themselves, for the people, for the future.
For you.
2008-07-13