[ys] track one: i'm falling
A/N: I've been having the worst writer's slump ever. Today, I heard Shallow for the hundredth time since its coming out, but only today, this scene clicked together in my head. For the first time in a long time, the words actually flowed. I hope you guys like it, even though its awful short!
+++
He feels it again; that dull, heady buzz carpeting his senses, the rush that can only come from a thousand screaming voices, hands extended towards him like they can’t get enough, eyes closed, lost, adrift in the music. It’s magic, Yong-hwa marvels, stepping back, swiping at his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. It’s a goddamned drug, and he can’t get enough.
“Thank you,” He says, grinning. “You guys are fucking great. I love you.”
There’s a few scattered screams in return, high-pitched, the words indistinct and Yong-hwa shakes his head in disbelief. Five years have come and gone, but this - performing, music, him with his guitar in front of a crowd of thousands, it never gets old. He doesn’t think it will, and that fills with him with something he could never put into a song; this ballooning emotion of a thousand shades - gratitude, euphoria, satisfaction all bleeding into each other.
If his head was a little clearer, he might probably recognise how dangerously close he’s veering into what Sang-hoon, his manager, calls the ‘danger zone’, where he just lets his instincts take over. The band calls it a performer’s high, but they all know one thing - that when Yong-hwa lets it take over, the consequences can either be mind-blowing or catastrophic.
What the hell. Let’s shake it up.
“We’re gonna perform one of your favourites now,” He says into the microphone. “But you know what? Let’s do it different this time.”
He looks out into the crowd; faces upon faces stacked upon each other, features blurring into one another, but it is the front row that really gets his attention since their faces are most closely haloed in the spotlights.
He isn’t sure why he settles on her - the shorter, petite girl next to her is immediately cuter, all doe eyes and rosebud lips. But there is something elegant about her; tall, willowy, in the way her elbows rest lightly on the barricade, the way her hair is pulled up into a high ponytail that exposes the slope of her neck, the curve of her jaw. Maybe it’s the look in her eyes that somehow manages to be both alive with excitement and oddly controlled at the same time. As if she’s both a part of everything that’s happening, but also not.
The word Yong-hwa is searching for slots into place, intriguing. And he knows right off bat, it has to be her.
“Hey,” He says softly, locking eyes with her. “How about coming up here and singing with me?”
Even as he says it, even as the crowd bursts into an overlapping waves of screams, pleas and cheers, all his attention is on the girl, on the way her eyes widen impossibly, the way her features jump into stark shock.
“Come on,” He says, grin widening, cajoling. “Let’s sing together.”
The girl isn’t looking at him now though; she’s looking at the girls beside her, obviously frantic, a hand curled tightly into the crook of the cute, petite one. He can’t hear what she’s saying; but from the anxious purse of her lips, from the tense lines of her face, he can imagine what she’s saying. For one awful moment, it crosses his mind that she might turn him down, in front of all these people, and it’s an effective pin to the balloon of his crowd-induced high.
But he pushes it away, keeping his smile firmly in place. You just need to stay in control of this. “Come on up,” He says, warm, and he focuses his words on only her, watching as she turns to look at him. “I promise, it’ll be fun.”
Maybe it’s something in his voice, something in the way he looks at her, but she bites her lip, hesitating, torn.
After two dangerously long beats, her shoulders draw back, and she’s pushing at the barricade to get upstage with the security helping, and the crowd swells again into a roar, in time with the crescendo that’s Yong-hwa’s heart.
He tosses a look over his shoulder; Jung-shin is definitely pulling his you’re-insane-and-hyung’s-gonna-kill-you face, but Min-hyuk is clapping, his face good-natured and interested, even as they watch the girl walk onstage, hesitantly, a hand up against the glare of the spotlights. Eyes on me, he mouths silently at them, and they nod, readying themselves for the song.
As he walks over to the girl, he catalogues a few things in quick succession - the smooth expanse of alabaster skin bared by the sweetheart neckline of her mustard top, her hands twisting in obvious anxiety, the tendrils of loose hair skirting her ears, and those imperturbable eyes; wide, guileless and obviously frightened.
He tugs out his in-ear monitor, leaning over to her. Normally, this is where he’d give whatever fan he’s brought up a casual hug, but he’s not sure why he opts instead for a handshake, as formal as it is. It’s just something about the vibe she projects, maybe. “Hi,” He shouts into her ear, over the noise of the crowd. “Thanks for not leaving me in the lurch there.”
The minute the words are out of his mouth, he wants to take it back - those are oddly vulnerable words for someone like him, and he hopes to God that most of it was lost in the noise of the crowd. She pulls back, but her eyes are steady on him, probing in a way that makes him think not. Yet, when she leans back in, raising her voice to be heard over the wall of noise, the only thing he hears is anxiety. “I… I’m not really a good singer, so I’m… I’m sorry if I mess this up.”
There it is again, that flare of worry - God, he hopes she isn’t tone-deaf; God knows the press would have a field day with that and the jokes on social media…
He bats away those doubts - it’s gonna be fine, Yong-hwa. “You’ll be fine,” He promises, leading her over to the microphone. “It’s just a duet. You and me. Pretend no one else is here, if you’d like. Like singing in the shower.”
She shoots him a look, one that verges on sarcasm and disbelief, but he’s already at the mic. “Hi guys, I’d like y’all to say hi to my new friend…”
He looks at her, and she takes a hesitant step up towards the mic. “I’m Seo-hyun. Nice to meet you all.”
The crowd roars its ascent, and Yong-hwa slings his guitar back to the front. “Seo-hyun here and I are going to do a little song called Shallow. Sing along with us.”
He plucks the first notes, listening to them ring out clear and true against the cheers - this is a fan-favorite after all. He steps up close to the mic, closing his eyes, willing it all away as he steps into that place where there’s only music.
Tell me something girl
Are you happy living in this modern world
Or do you need more
Is there something else you’re searching for
I’m falling
In all the good times I feel myself longing for change
And in the bad times I fear myself
He plays the opening riff again, this time catching Seo-hyun’s eye and taking a half step back, so that she knows it’s her turn.
She moves closer to the mic, her hands still wringing themselves, and in that moment that she takes her first breath, Yong-hwa’s stomach does this airless swoop of anticipation and fear.
Tell me something boy
Aren’t you tired trying to fill that void
Or do you need more
Ain’t it hard keeping it so hardcore
Her voice is shaky, uncertain on that first verse, but she isn’t tone-deaf, isn’t off-key in any way. She’s good; her voice low but strong, musical in the way she enunciates, giving each word the depth of their meaning. He’s sure that any cameras trained on them now will pick up the faint look of surprise on his face, but it’s not everyday that you pick out someone who sings well from a random crowd.
I’m falling, she sings, lilting like silk, and Yong-hwa sees her shoulders relax, the lines of her body now smooth and fluid as her hands fall apart, sliding up the neck of the microphone stand, the posture of someone falling under a spell. In all the good times I feel myself longing for change, and in the bad times I fear myself…
I’m off the deep end
Watch as I dive in
I’ll never meet the ground
Crash through the surface
Where they can’t hurt us
We’re far from the shallow now
Yong-hwa isn’t sure why he’s trembling just watching her, even as she closes her eyes, her voice finally soaring, high and certain over the chorus. All he knows is that it’s impossible for him to tear his eyes away, even as he moves to stand beside her, to sing the last line together.
She must feel him next to her, because her eyelids flutter open; all anxiety wiped from her face, but there’s a sort of dreamy contentment that colors her features and she takes a half step, so that they can share the mic. In the shallow, in the shallow, shallow, they sing together, and Yong-hwa can’t not smile at the sweetness of the harmony and melody together, like how it was written to be sung.
He doesn’t even have time to realise that the next part in the track is usually where he improvises, doesn’t even have time to panic or think about what he should do or say, or cut the band there, but she, Seo-hyun, just goes into it, vocalising like how he does in the album without hesitation.
Her voice is sweet and haunting, starting off soft, but somehow the band, Min-hyuk, maybe, must be watching her and they sync together, building up, and her voice is clear and certain, gaining power as she hits those high notes effortlessly. And somewhere in the middle of it all, Yong-hwa just steps away, lets her take over, and he himself revels in this unexpected moment, in this moment of pure music.
Min-hyuk crashes out, and her voice is fearless now.
I’m off the deep end
Watch as I dive in
I’ll never meet the ground
Crash through the surface
Where they can’t hurt us
We’re far from the shallow now
The band meets her at every beat, as seamlessly as if they had practiced it, and Yong-hwa shakes his head - how the hell, how in the world did this happen - and the only line standing out in his head now is new, the start of another song entirely, I could never have predicted someone like her.
He joins her again at the microphone, and the smile on her face is soporific now, even as they finish up together, voices overlapping. And all through it, he keeps his eyes on her and she on him, and Yong-hwa knows that this is the memory he’ll hold close for months to come - her eyes aglow in the blue wash, her lips curving around the words, we’re far from the shallow now, the sweet pleasure on her face, the obvious passion for music that he knows is mirrored in his own expression.
They sing slow and drawn out, We’re far from the shallow now, and Min-hyuk drops out with a bang, and the raucous screaming of the crowd begins to filter back into his senses. But in that moment, all Yong-hwa can think about is the surprising truth of the lyric he’s just sung; this odd feeling that he’s too far gone to go back now, especially when she’s looking at him like that.
+++
He feels it again; that dull, heady buzz carpeting his senses, the rush that can only come from a thousand screaming voices, hands extended towards him like they can’t get enough, eyes closed, lost, adrift in the music. It’s magic, Yong-hwa marvels, stepping back, swiping at his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. It’s a goddamned drug, and he can’t get enough.
“Thank you,” He says, grinning. “You guys are fucking great. I love you.”
There’s a few scattered screams in return, high-pitched, the words indistinct and Yong-hwa shakes his head in disbelief. Five years have come and gone, but this - performing, music, him with his guitar in front of a crowd of thousands, it never gets old. He doesn’t think it will, and that fills with him with something he could never put into a song; this ballooning emotion of a thousand shades - gratitude, euphoria, satisfaction all bleeding into each other.
If his head was a little clearer, he might probably recognise how dangerously close he’s veering into what Sang-hoon, his manager, calls the ‘danger zone’, where he just lets his instincts take over. The band calls it a performer’s high, but they all know one thing - that when Yong-hwa lets it take over, the consequences can either be mind-blowing or catastrophic.
What the hell. Let’s shake it up.
“We’re gonna perform one of your favourites now,” He says into the microphone. “But you know what? Let’s do it different this time.”
He looks out into the crowd; faces upon faces stacked upon each other, features blurring into one another, but it is the front row that really gets his attention since their faces are most closely haloed in the spotlights.
He isn’t sure why he settles on her - the shorter, petite girl next to her is immediately cuter, all doe eyes and rosebud lips. But there is something elegant about her; tall, willowy, in the way her elbows rest lightly on the barricade, the way her hair is pulled up into a high ponytail that exposes the slope of her neck, the curve of her jaw. Maybe it’s the look in her eyes that somehow manages to be both alive with excitement and oddly controlled at the same time. As if she’s both a part of everything that’s happening, but also not.
The word Yong-hwa is searching for slots into place, intriguing. And he knows right off bat, it has to be her.
“Hey,” He says softly, locking eyes with her. “How about coming up here and singing with me?”
Even as he says it, even as the crowd bursts into an overlapping waves of screams, pleas and cheers, all his attention is on the girl, on the way her eyes widen impossibly, the way her features jump into stark shock.
“Come on,” He says, grin widening, cajoling. “Let’s sing together.”
The girl isn’t looking at him now though; she’s looking at the girls beside her, obviously frantic, a hand curled tightly into the crook of the cute, petite one. He can’t hear what she’s saying; but from the anxious purse of her lips, from the tense lines of her face, he can imagine what she’s saying. For one awful moment, it crosses his mind that she might turn him down, in front of all these people, and it’s an effective pin to the balloon of his crowd-induced high.
But he pushes it away, keeping his smile firmly in place. You just need to stay in control of this. “Come on up,” He says, warm, and he focuses his words on only her, watching as she turns to look at him. “I promise, it’ll be fun.”
Maybe it’s something in his voice, something in the way he looks at her, but she bites her lip, hesitating, torn.
After two dangerously long beats, her shoulders draw back, and she’s pushing at the barricade to get upstage with the security helping, and the crowd swells again into a roar, in time with the crescendo that’s Yong-hwa’s heart.
He tosses a look over his shoulder; Jung-shin is definitely pulling his you’re-insane-and-hyung’s-gonna-kill-you face, but Min-hyuk is clapping, his face good-natured and interested, even as they watch the girl walk onstage, hesitantly, a hand up against the glare of the spotlights. Eyes on me, he mouths silently at them, and they nod, readying themselves for the song.
As he walks over to the girl, he catalogues a few things in quick succession - the smooth expanse of alabaster skin bared by the sweetheart neckline of her mustard top, her hands twisting in obvious anxiety, the tendrils of loose hair skirting her ears, and those imperturbable eyes; wide, guileless and obviously frightened.
He tugs out his in-ear monitor, leaning over to her. Normally, this is where he’d give whatever fan he’s brought up a casual hug, but he’s not sure why he opts instead for a handshake, as formal as it is. It’s just something about the vibe she projects, maybe. “Hi,” He shouts into her ear, over the noise of the crowd. “Thanks for not leaving me in the lurch there.”
The minute the words are out of his mouth, he wants to take it back - those are oddly vulnerable words for someone like him, and he hopes to God that most of it was lost in the noise of the crowd. She pulls back, but her eyes are steady on him, probing in a way that makes him think not. Yet, when she leans back in, raising her voice to be heard over the wall of noise, the only thing he hears is anxiety. “I… I’m not really a good singer, so I’m… I’m sorry if I mess this up.”
There it is again, that flare of worry - God, he hopes she isn’t tone-deaf; God knows the press would have a field day with that and the jokes on social media…
He bats away those doubts - it’s gonna be fine, Yong-hwa. “You’ll be fine,” He promises, leading her over to the microphone. “It’s just a duet. You and me. Pretend no one else is here, if you’d like. Like singing in the shower.”
She shoots him a look, one that verges on sarcasm and disbelief, but he’s already at the mic. “Hi guys, I’d like y’all to say hi to my new friend…”
He looks at her, and she takes a hesitant step up towards the mic. “I’m Seo-hyun. Nice to meet you all.”
The crowd roars its ascent, and Yong-hwa slings his guitar back to the front. “Seo-hyun here and I are going to do a little song called Shallow. Sing along with us.”
He plucks the first notes, listening to them ring out clear and true against the cheers - this is a fan-favorite after all. He steps up close to the mic, closing his eyes, willing it all away as he steps into that place where there’s only music.
Tell me something girl
Are you happy living in this modern world
Or do you need more
Is there something else you’re searching for
I’m falling
In all the good times I feel myself longing for change
And in the bad times I fear myself
He plays the opening riff again, this time catching Seo-hyun’s eye and taking a half step back, so that she knows it’s her turn.
She moves closer to the mic, her hands still wringing themselves, and in that moment that she takes her first breath, Yong-hwa’s stomach does this airless swoop of anticipation and fear.
Tell me something boy
Aren’t you tired trying to fill that void
Or do you need more
Ain’t it hard keeping it so hardcore
Her voice is shaky, uncertain on that first verse, but she isn’t tone-deaf, isn’t off-key in any way. She’s good; her voice low but strong, musical in the way she enunciates, giving each word the depth of their meaning. He’s sure that any cameras trained on them now will pick up the faint look of surprise on his face, but it’s not everyday that you pick out someone who sings well from a random crowd.
I’m falling, she sings, lilting like silk, and Yong-hwa sees her shoulders relax, the lines of her body now smooth and fluid as her hands fall apart, sliding up the neck of the microphone stand, the posture of someone falling under a spell. In all the good times I feel myself longing for change, and in the bad times I fear myself…
I’m off the deep end
Watch as I dive in
I’ll never meet the ground
Crash through the surface
Where they can’t hurt us
We’re far from the shallow now
Yong-hwa isn’t sure why he’s trembling just watching her, even as she closes her eyes, her voice finally soaring, high and certain over the chorus. All he knows is that it’s impossible for him to tear his eyes away, even as he moves to stand beside her, to sing the last line together.
She must feel him next to her, because her eyelids flutter open; all anxiety wiped from her face, but there’s a sort of dreamy contentment that colors her features and she takes a half step, so that they can share the mic. In the shallow, in the shallow, shallow, they sing together, and Yong-hwa can’t not smile at the sweetness of the harmony and melody together, like how it was written to be sung.
He doesn’t even have time to realise that the next part in the track is usually where he improvises, doesn’t even have time to panic or think about what he should do or say, or cut the band there, but she, Seo-hyun, just goes into it, vocalising like how he does in the album without hesitation.
Her voice is sweet and haunting, starting off soft, but somehow the band, Min-hyuk, maybe, must be watching her and they sync together, building up, and her voice is clear and certain, gaining power as she hits those high notes effortlessly. And somewhere in the middle of it all, Yong-hwa just steps away, lets her take over, and he himself revels in this unexpected moment, in this moment of pure music.
Min-hyuk crashes out, and her voice is fearless now.
I’m off the deep end
Watch as I dive in
I’ll never meet the ground
Crash through the surface
Where they can’t hurt us
We’re far from the shallow now
The band meets her at every beat, as seamlessly as if they had practiced it, and Yong-hwa shakes his head - how the hell, how in the world did this happen - and the only line standing out in his head now is new, the start of another song entirely, I could never have predicted someone like her.
He joins her again at the microphone, and the smile on her face is soporific now, even as they finish up together, voices overlapping. And all through it, he keeps his eyes on her and she on him, and Yong-hwa knows that this is the memory he’ll hold close for months to come - her eyes aglow in the blue wash, her lips curving around the words, we’re far from the shallow now, the sweet pleasure on her face, the obvious passion for music that he knows is mirrored in his own expression.
They sing slow and drawn out, We’re far from the shallow now, and Min-hyuk drops out with a bang, and the raucous screaming of the crowd begins to filter back into his senses. But in that moment, all Yong-hwa can think about is the surprising truth of the lyric he’s just sung; this odd feeling that he’s too far gone to go back now, especially when she’s looking at him like that.