Fire (3)

Joon-woo adjusted the height of the microphone in front of him. He held a rented guitar in hand as he rested on a tall stool. The guitar case was open, for donation collecting, Joon-woo figured. The city streets sat in front of him. 

Colorful signs hung above the heads of suited up and jacketed Koreans. Comfy in their masks and daily routine of working 9-5's. Store clerks tugged the sleeves of tourists, chanting in poor English to shop or eat at their store. 

As Joon-woo set up, curious glances were sent his way, mainly tourists, but glances were still glance. Joon-woo replied with swooning smiles, that caused blush to spread on the faces of some. 

He tapped at the mic, "Ah– Hello?" His voice came out of the mic, blasting into the ears of bystanders and Joon-woo took a moment to get used to hearing his voice in the mic again. 

A pale-skinned couple turned his way, they spoke in slang-filled English to each other and pulled over to sit nearby Joon-woo. 

"I will sing…" Joon-woo shyly said, clearing his throat. 

"The things I'm about to, tell you aren't so you

Change what's already on your mind

It's just that I keep thinking about all the melodies

You made asleep at night…"

The melody of "You Were Pretty" by Day7 escaped his lips, the chords familiar along his finger tips. 

Ha-rin had always loved to play guitar. Even before she wanted to be an idol, she played guitar, she played it until blisters bled along her finger tips. She played guitar after rough practice days. She played guitar on the day of her parents' funeral. 

The foreigner couple's eyes lit up at his voice, as if enchanted. And, if completely honest, the Ha-rin in him was too. Joon-woo's voice was like butter, with a low angelic tone that could make its way up the notes with ease. With a voice that could be molded into anything he wanted. Pop? Rock? Ballad? Joon-woo could do it. 

Satisfied, he continued:

"Every time I got out of bed 

Start my day that's when I would hear you 

And with a tired yawn, you'd tell me that you loved me, I'll be fine

And that's what got me through the day alright…"

He sang, more eyes falling upon him. But instead of the familiar 'just passing by' eyes, the eyes were curious, admiration, almost. 

"Beautiful

Just the way that you would look at me

Was so much I'd never wanna leave

I, I keep tryna forget how you were

Beautiful

Just the way that you were calling my name

But without you it won't be the same

I, I keep tryna forget but you were beautiful…"

The foreign couple took out their phones, along with a small crowd that was beginning to gather. Joon-woo had them hooked, and it brought some confidence he had lost while practicing for 'Fire'. 

Someone dropped two 5,000 won bills into his guitar case, and some coins followed. Joon-woo's eyes shined at the bills, but he tried not to let it show. He muttered a quiet 'thank you' to the donator. 

The donator seemed to be a young, conventionally attractive man dressed in a suit. He sent Joon-woo a nod and a smile before walking off into an ambiguous crowd of Koreans. 

As Joon-woo made his way to the end of the song, he looked up. The whole time he tried to avoid looking up, as faces in quantity scared him, or the idea of such. But when he did, a crowd of applause welcomed him. 

It was then, the foreign couple stood and dropped a few 50,000 won bills into his case, shooting him a wink when Joon-woo processed the amount. He looked at the couple with shocked eyes. 

"[Ah– This is a lot of–]" Joon-woo began in broken, too formal English. Had the couple not realized how much they were giving him?

Ha-rin had learned some over her 11 years of being an idol. She had almost become fluent at one point, as her group had remained in a North American tour for six months. 

The couple shook their heads, "[You're a good singer.]" The girlfriend of the couple said.

Joon-woo looked away, red with the support. "[Thank you.]"

"[I think you will go far.]" She continued, waving goodbye to the tug of the boyfriend's insistence to go. 

As they left the boyfriend shot Joon-woo a glare. Joon-woo sweated a bit, turning back to the crowd of expectant Koreans and excited foreigners. He opened his mouth and began to sing again.

–+–

Joon-woo was home and 400,500 won sat in his control, in his hands. Despite Ha-rin being quite high earning, she never had cash, idols never carried cash anyway. So as Joon-woo felt the money in his hands, he felt accomplished. 

"Woo… That worked more than I thought it would…" Kite admired, bird eyes sparkling at the wealth. 

"Better than selling myself?" Joon-woo joked.

Kite shifted away, "I guess, yeah."

Joon-woo looked at Kite pridefully, "Good." He suddenly stood, tucking the money under his pillow and pushing himself off the bed. As now, his temporary pride was about to be shattered. It was time for the next recording. "Well, it was fun while it lasted." Joon-woo joked, legs still aching from his hours of practice.

Kite frowned, "Hey. You aren't looking forward to the next recording?" 

Joon-woo shrugged, "Right now all that's happening is I'm being focused for my bad dancing which will definitely be evilly edited…" He explained, "Not much to look forward too."

"That's–" Kite went to say, but Joon-woo interrupted him. 

"Unfair?" Joon-woo said, watching Kite nod in confirmation. "Get used to it." He said, bitterly smiling in reply. He slung his tote bag over his shoulder grabbing at the straps as he slipped his shoes on.

He scratched at his head, closing his apartment door behind him and casually stepping out. 

His Landlord, as if an animated villain, stood at the end of the haul, tapping her foot with arms crossed over her chest. Joon-woo raised an eyebrow, trying to act as if he didn't notice her. 

Kite whistled by his side, "She seems to be unhappy with you."

"Hmm… Can't you tell?" Joon-woo joked, beginning down the stairs. "Though, does she not have anything better to do than stalk me?" He said, as he found it a bit ridiculous.

One thing he noticed about the apartment complex is that it was filled with ex-felons and probably, soon to be caught felons. There was mold everywhere and the elevator was unusable, there were only two working washing machines, and it was grimey. Chipped paint was something you couldn't escape, graffiti tags littering the stairway walls. So was he really the Landlord's biggest problem? 

He ignored her, making his way down the stairs and to the bus stop, just two blocks away.

–+–

Reggie immediately pulled Joon-woo into a hug when he entered the building. Speaking worried English too fast for Joon-woo to understand. He usually was able to understand when Reggie switched into English and helped translate when needed, but stuck in the sudden embrace, he couldn't understand a word. 

"Joon-woo-ah! What were you thinking? Letting your team pick 'Fire'..." Reggie cried, "Did you tell them you had a hard time dancing? Did you even have a say?"

Joon-woo resisted the hold, breath falling short. He ducked away and stood a step away, looking at Reggie with a sigh. Reggie frowned at this movement, his arms suddenly feeling more empty. 

"I had a say… I just– I didn't want to let the team down." Joon-woo explained, "And if anything, I should be worried about you." He started. 

Reggie pursed his lips at Joon-woo's words.

"You've been ignoring my messages and your face, you look tired." Joon-woo explained his worries, staring up at Reggie with a serious expression. 

Reggie looked down with his eyebags less, but still there. He was just a bit too pale for Joon-woo's liking, pale meant stress and overwork. "Eh?" Reggie asked, "No, you too, are mistaken Joon-woo. I've just been up late a lot." 

Joon-woo raised an eyebrow at the vagueness, "Up doing what?" He interrogated. 

"Aish…" Reggie cried, scratching the back of his neck, "I've been trying to perfect my Korean. Producer Hyung asked me to." He explained, both of them being taken back to just a few days ago when Reggie had been pulled aside.

Joon-woo tilted his head, was that really all? And even so, why hadn't Reggie told him? Joon-woo had been helping him even without a prompt. "But you didn't ask for my help?" He asked, a bit accusatory. 

"You're also busy, I didn't want to bother you." Reggie explained, face shifting into one oc realization.

"I can help." Joon-woo insisted, "Languages are hard, let me help." He persisted, because how could he let Reggie struggle like this? Reggie would get ridiculed by knets for poor Korean. Poor Korean could lead to struggles with honorifics which knets always interpreted as a lack of respect. Poor Korean led to verbal abuse and Joon-woo knew that Reggie didn't deserve any of that.

Reggie smiled at Joon-woo's, "Only if you can…"

"I can." Joon-woo confirmed, "Please let me help, Hyung."