Always Have, Always Will Part 2

A few years later…

You sway sideways in your seat as the train lurches forward. The cool air entering through the open window compliments your surroundings: sterile and unnecessarily bright.

It’s not as crowded as it is in the morning. One of the few good things about working late into the night. You look around. Someone’s asleep across from you, another is bouncing their knees, clutching their bag tightly. Another man sighs, loosening his tie.

You do the same.

Your laptop bag rest heavily on your thighs. Your head gently falls back onto the window behind, a gentle thud echoing through the carriage. You close your eyes and let the music hum quietly through your headphones.

Her voice fills your ears.

Warm and familiar.

You can’t help the smile creeping on your face.

You haven’t seen Park Minju in years. In person at least. You watched and voted for her constantly on that survival show she participated in a year or so back. And now you hear her almost everyday since her debut.

Your middle and index fingers tap your bag absentmindedly in time with the instrumental. They alternate, a rhythmic walk across an imaginary E-string. Slow at first. Faster when you get fully immersed in it. Whoever did this arrangement is good. Very good.

It’s catchy and addictive. Something that would make people repeat the song again and again.

Your smile grows wider when you hear her voice again. It’s clear and dreamy, almost honey-like in the way she hits her high notes.

She used to go red when you asked her to sing, and she kept making excuses, stuttering, waving her hands in front of her face like it’s the last thing she wanted to do. You told her it was for your timing—the festival performance, you needed someone to play off. She couldn’t say no after that. You played slower than normal that day. Slower than you needed to.

Back when your hands were callused and smelt faintly of metal strings instead of printer ink and cheap, office coffee.

The thought makes you let out a quiet breath out your nose.

The music is suddenly interrupted by a notification ping. Your eyes open briefly—HYBE Entertainment, subject line: Regarding an anonymous cover. You close your eyes again. Some promotional spam. If it’s important, they can find some other way to contact you.

The music resumes just as the chorus swells louder in your ears, layered vocals wrapping around the infectious beat underneath it. You can make out all the members now, but your favourite is still Minju. Soft and angelic and has an inexplicable way of soothing you.

Your fingers tap harder against your bag, loud enough that the woman beside you glances over briefly before returning her gaze to her phone.

You don’t notice it. Instead, you tap your headphone cup three times, replaying the song. Again and again because you can never grow tired of it.

Your eyes scrunch when you hear your favourite part. The bass here is exquisite, loud enough to feel its impact but it won’t overpower their vocals. It’s subtle. People won’t think twice about it.

Around the fifth play, your phone rings, ruining the experience. You slowly open your eyes, lifting your phone to your eyes.

It’s her brother.

You forcefully exhale, staring at his name for a second before answering.

“What?” The passengers stare at you, looks of disbelief as you answered your phone on the train. You bow your head in apology, cupping your hand over your mouth to continue talking. “Make this quick. I’m on the train.”

“Wow,” your best friend says immediately. “Hello to you too. Didn’t work end like three hours ago?”

You snort softly despite yourself. “Yeah… well… we’re busy these days.”

“When aren’t you?”

You ignore that comment.

The line goes quiet for a moment before he speaks again, more carefully this time.

“Minju was here today. Had dinner with us.”

You freeze.

Minju sitting at the dining table, her elbow resting on the surface with her chin propped up. Her eyes on you as you cut up fruit for her to eat. You knew she was staring, could see her through the reflection on the window. So when you turned, and saw her elbow slip, her eyes forced to look down as her face grew a brighter shade of red, you wanted to laugh. Instead, you gently pushed the tray of fruit in front of her, held out a fork, and waited for her to take a bite.

The speaker announces the upcoming station, muffled beneath your headphones as people are getting up ready to leave. You stay there though, not moving, eyes staring blankly ahead of you.

You swallow thickly before answering. “How is she?”

“Good. Just finished her promotions for the new comeback. You’ve been listening?”

You make a noncommittal sound.

“Anyway, she mentioned they’re going on a tour soon.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. Everything’s pretty hectic for her right now. Apparently their tour director is obssessed with this instrumental cover of their debut song. Is looking for the person behind it.”

Your eyes immediately go to the notification still sitting unread at the top of your screen. You open it, read through it quickly, eyes widening and thumb scrolling faster until you reach the end of the message. You lower the phone slowly.

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It’s so cold in the underground, you can see your breath escape you. “That’s nice.”

“It is. Can you imagine being so good that they want you touring with the group?”

“I—I can’t.”

He stays quiet for a beat before whispering. “They’re asking about you again.”

“W—why?”

You hear an exasperated sigh from the other end. “Look—mom and dad miss you, are worried about you. I keep giving them lame excuses like how you’re busy—”

“I am busy.”

“So busy you can’t even visit?”

Silence.