CHAPTER FIVE

BEFORE

“Alena Sabine, guess what?”

I immediately opened my eyes in surprise and clutched my blanket tight. 

Alisa looks down at me, grinning. She was on top of my bed, waiting for me to wake up. Jesus, it hasn’t even been five o’clock in the morning and she’s already in my house, blasting my room with her high-pitched voice.

I lazily go up from lying and rubbed my eyes. When I yawned on her face, she made a disgusted expression and backed off. I snickered.

She deserves that.

“What are you here for? The sun hasn’t even replaced the moon yet,” I say as I opened the blinds on my window. 

It looks cold outside, especially since winter is close.

“Ta-dah!” 

She waved two pieces of paper in front of me. She looks so excited, it’s concerning.

“What’s that? Homework?” I ask. 

My eyes were still half open and I’m still sleepy as heck, so I couldn’t see what the paper says. Our classes start at nine, so I usually wake up at seven or so to prepare, but this is too early for me to be up. I wish mom didn’t let her in my room, saying I was exhausted last night.

Don’t get me wrong; I love Alison’s company. She’s fun to be with and all, but she’s too innocent and does things impulsively without thinking at all. Like disturbing my sleep. Sometimes she even enters the bathroom when I’m showering. 

“No, dummy. Look! Look closely. Here,” she handed me the papers, and I stared at her suspiciously as she continues to grin from ear to ear.

I sighed quietly, leaned on my headboard, and looked closely at the pieces of paper in my hands, as Alison turns my light on. Finally, I let my eyes trail the journey of the prints and my jaw dropped when the words sink in my mind. 

“Tickets to the music festival?” I exclaimed, and her grin grew even wider.

“Yes!” she squealed.

“We couldn’t go last year since you have a science quiz bee, remember? But, look! I convinced my father to buy us once again, and he agreed!” she says, voice pitch higher than earlier, and I felt my ears internally bled.

Maybe Alison’s mom wasn’t aware that she gave birth to a walking megaphone.

“On what expense?” I ask.

She scratched her cheek lightly and avoided my gaze, “I’ll have to sell three-quarters of my toys, and be the top student of the whole grade.” She says hesitatingly.

I gasp in disbelief and dropped the tickets on the bed, “Ali, that’s too high of a price! I’m not even interested in music in the first place. And so are you!”

She got off my bed and stood a few steps away from me, “But, Yen. I really want to go this time. Felix will be one of the performers and I really want to watch them,” she pleads, eyes transforming into teary beads, compelling me to give in.

“Sir Felix,” I correct her.

“Haven’t you moved on from your teeny crush on him? You know he’s almost two decades older than us, right?”

“What? He’s hot.” She shrugs.

I roll my eyes and sigh a deep exhale, “And old. God, you’re ridiculous. I’m going back to sleep, good night.” 

When I covered my face with the blanket, she hops on my bed and shakes me aggressively. The fact that I’m short on sleep made it feel like I’m experiencing a magnitude ten earthquake. Not that I experienced one but she is shaking my brain tremendously.

“Come on, Alena. Pleaaasee?” It’s more of a demand than asking for a favor.

I sighed for the nth time, “Even if I want to go with you, I have a class that day.”

“It’s held at night.”

“It’s held at night?” I repeat, flabbergasted. “We have a curfew!”

She shrugs, “We can sneak out.

From the window, I hear the sound of a rattling bicycle wheel near the street and I could feel my nerves getting the best of me, Maybe I was sick of studying at the time. Maybe I’m too exposed to Alison’s impulsiveness that I actually agreed to go to the music festival, kilometers away from where I live, at eight-thirty in the evening. And without asking my parents' permission.

My parents, who would disown me if they find out. Probably.

I must have been high at some point, because the other second I opened my eyes, we were already at the entrance for ticket checking. The massive-looking bouncer even asks where’s our adult company at, and Alison flat out lies that they’re already inside and pointed to a random freaking stranger.

Dammit, I’m really screwed at this point.

“Woah, it’s so bright!” Alison yells, trying to surpass the loud noise from the huge speakers on stage and conversations from the crowd.

There are a lot of people. There is a fuckton of people. Why is it so crowded?!

It’s impossible to see beyond what’s in front of us because we’re being squashed flat by adults who have no self-awareness of whose foot they’re stepping onto. I could not even count the number of people I elbowed indiscriminately because they pushed me or stepped on me. 

Great.

This is just freaking great!

Coming here is the worst decision.

“Ayen! Ayen, it’s them! Felix’s band!” She brandishes her poorly made cartolina banner above her head, and I’m sure as hell it can’t be seen from the stage.

She used an almost dried-up light-colored marker that camouflages the color of the paper, so how can anyone read it from that distance?

“It’s Sir Felix!” I correct her again, my voice getting drowned out by the crowd’s noise.

I cupped my ears tightly, trying to tone down the deafening sound coming from every hecking where. I didn’t know how much time has passed, nor do I know how many performers performed on stage since we arrived. But later, the music changed tone and now it was calm and serene as to be compared to the night’s tranquility or something.

It wasn’t loud anymore. Enough for me to put my arm down and try my best to look beyond the gigantic bodies in front of me so that I can see who’s performing on the stage. Using all foot and whatnot to add something to my height, I tried my best to tiptoe like a ballet dancer, and I could finally see a glimpse of the stage.

The first thing I catch sight of was his white electric guitar, slung across his chest. Then the burberry dress shirt he’s wearing casually (not sure if I ever came across someone whose family can afford one). Well-dressed, clean looking, and is performing at the music festival when he obviously looks the same age as me. If not, maybe a few years older than me.

I was told minors aren’t allowed to enter the competition, so how come?

“Hey!” I shake Alison’s arm lightly without looking at her.

“Who is that?” I ask.

“Huh? I don’t know.” She says.

I watched his fragile-looking fingers run through his guitar strings, and the sound it made completely silenced the crowd. Note: it silenced the loud-ass crowd. With one strum.

“Woah.” I heard Alison mumble, as she held her arms, almost like embracing herself.

I feel the same. My goosebumps and the pounding of my heart don’t lie.

It sounded strong, yet gentle. Intimidating, yet pure. Just enough to get your attention.

I can barely notice the heavy up and down motion of his shoulders like he’s trying to calm himself down before his hand went up to play with the strings again. 

I momentarily paused in my place and started to think. Can music sound that… emotional?

My brother and my dad were fond of heavy metals, but I’m not. Ever since I can remember, the house was always blasting with loud tunes enough to wake all of our neighbors up, disheveled and all. That was how I came to dislike music. It is just pure disturbance.

But, this? This is different.

I felt my eyes closing by themselves, trying to hear the best of what he can do. It was magical how I felt the breeze blowing my face softly down to my hair, and the sound of the waves hitting the shore, as a flock of birds flew across the horizon.

He made it seem like the crowd wasn't there. Like I wasn’t struggling to see the stage. Nor did I ever complain about the heat. 

It was just me, and his music. Peaceful and cool.

I opened my eyes again when the memories started to wither. Then I saw the same burberry dress shirt in front of me. The same white guitar, the same man, just a ton taller than how I remembered him to be. Everything was the same, but how could he sound so different?

“Wait, stop. Stop.” I say, raising my hand.

“What?” His face contorted as he lowered his hand.

“You,” I pause, “You sound so bland.” 

“Huh?”

“You can’t be him. Maybe Hiro was wrong.” I say, just talking to myself.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

The others are still not back after ten minutes, and I’m still left alone with this grumpy ass man inside this not small but suffocating room. We agreed to let me practice syncing with him, but this whole time, I was just distracted by the way he plays.

It was so normal, but he was never normal. He’s beyond extraordinary. Or so I deemed him to be. 

“You’re the burberry guy performing at the music festival five years ago, aren’t you? Why do you sound so different?” 

“Aren’t you supposed to practice on your own sound?” He rolls his eyes at me.

“Stop paying attention to anything and focus, will you?”

I sigh deeply and pick the other stick up, “Fine.” I glower on my feet.

He started counting on cue and strummed his guitar strings. The first four beats went fine. We harmonized our sound, and I actually felt happy for a second before everything started to went downhill from the second four beats.

“Goddamn, you’re so bad at this.” He groaned and ran his palm through his face.

I lowered my head and bit my lips again. What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I do it right?

“Okay,” he says after calming himself down.

“Let’s start over, but this time, I want to hear you play your part.”

“You won’t accompany me?” I ask.

He shakes his head and points at the drums, the other hand resting on his waist. “No, we won’t go anywhere at this rate. You just kept messing up, I don’t know what makes it so hard for you to do.”

“Okay.” 

I was about to hit the snare when a thought came to mind, and my hand stopped midair. 

“Just so you know, I already memorized my part, okay?” I assure him and he stared at me in disbelief.

“Just play,” he sighed.

I did just as he told me. From start to finish, without fail. It sounded just right, and I hear no errors with tempo or missing beats. Seon looked so unsatisfied but he wasn’t complaining, so I’m guessing I did everything correctly. 

He slid his guitar strap on his shoulder once again and positioned his hand just in front of the second pickup.

“Okay, play exactly how you did earlier.” He says before cueing a count of one, two, three.

As expected, we synced on the first four beats, but the sound started going chaotic as he played his part without fail, and I played mine full of fails. He never told me to stop, though, so we reached the bridge and the chorus in disharmony. 

At some point, I started to pay the majority of my attention to how the sound of the electric guitar, and I had to stop momentarily from hitting any part of the drum. Whenever that happens, I had to wait for the next measure so I could start and try to sync again.

“Well, that was fucking bad,” he rasps.

“What do you think is your problem?” Seon asks, crossing his arms after putting his guitar down.

“I’m just that… bad?” I answer, unsure.

“You’re not even aware?”

I scratch my head in embarrassment, and he sighed in response.

“You’re too conscious of what’s around you. You’re not paying attention to your own sound at all, idiot.”

Idiot?

“Here. Let’s try again, only up to here.” He points at the first rest of the arrangement.

“This time, don’t listen to anything else besides your own. Okay? One, two, three–”

We started playing one more time. I was so scared when we synced at the first measurement, but I tried as hard as I could to listen only to my sound. I didn’t even look up. I was just staring down on the drums after we reached the first rest.

“Oh my God,” my hands went up to my mouth and I stood from my seat.

I look up to him, my eyes still twinkling with excitement and exhilaration. 

“I did it!” I yell.

He gave me a short gaze before shifting his eyes, almost seems like he couldn’t look at me straight.

“Not bad,” he smiles softly.