my yellow | yungi

1

Under the night sky, a boy cycled down the plains, backpack slung over his shoulders, and headphones playing a soft melody in his ears. His eyes occasionally shifted to the sky, as if searching for something. All around him was peaceful; the breeze gently blew across his face, doing the same to the tall grass that flapped in the wind like they were dancing. It was dark, with no other sign of human life apart from the huts and tents that scattered the plains, small figures could be seen sitting on chairs outside, eyes also looking up at the sky.

This boy's name is mingi. A lover of all things involving astronomy, music, and finding cute sweaters from the thrift store. Together with his parents, brother, and grandmother, he lived in a quiet neighborhood surrounded by nature of all sorts; from green hills of vegetation to tranquil lakes that were the homes to many wild animals. It was the kind of area where most residents travelled by bicycle or the local bus.

This night's trip to the plains was not unfamiliar to him. Every mid-December since he was young, he'd cycle there to catch the Geminids meteor shower. In the earlier years he went with a family member, but now that he was older, he often went alone.

By the time mingi arrived at his usual spot - on the side of the path near a large rock - the meteor shower had already begun. He quickly got out his Canon EOS 6D to capture the magnificent view above; the sky, a blend of blue and purple, glistening stars dotted the sky as white streaks fell across the painting. Shooting stars.

Snap snap snap. He took hundreds of pictures every few minutes. He would pause and put down his camera just to take in the view, wishing every single person on earth could see what he had seen in real life.

At some point, he heard a truck pull up just a few feet away, but assumed it was just a tourist, or perhaps a very rich photographer. He turned up the music in his Sony headphones and sat on the big rock, eyes still glued to the sky. They almost watered from how happy he felt because of the memories that came flooding back with each streak of light. Geminids only happen a few days each year, so it was something he could look forward to, something that kept him going. In mingi's opinion, meteor showers are one of those things that you can never get bored of.

When it was around 3am, mingi packed up his stuff, took one last glance at the sky, before hopping onto his bike. As he paddled away, he looked in the direction of where the truck had parked earlier on, and noticed a young man that was wearing a national geographic puffer jacket sitting at the back of the truck, head tilted up towards the sky, just as he had. The stars lit up his youthful face.

Not wanting the ruin the stranger's 'moment', mingi quietly cycled back down the path with a smile on his face.

___________________________________

Mingi is woken up at 7am by the blaring sound of his alarm. He buries his face in the pillow and groans, his hand fumbling around the nightstand to turn off the alarm. Though it's winter vacation for high school students, mingi found a part time job at a record store near the seafood restaurant run by his parents. Every morning, mother and son would take the local bus to the main street before parting ways, and at the end of his shift, mingi would head over to the restaurant to help out. His part time job didn't earn him much, but it was better than nothing. Plus, he usually had lots of free time on the job to do his own things like study or revise for school.

"Morning," he greets his parents in the kitchen after washing up.

Mingi's mom gets up from the dining table to place a warm hand on his cheek, her way of saying 'love you' to her sons. "Good morning dear, have your breakfast, Appa made french toast." She drags mingi to the table, where his father is slowly sipping a cup of coffee. He gives mingi a soft smile, then asks if he had a good sleep.

"Oh right, I wanna show you guys the photos I took last night! Wait here." Mingi suddenly remembers, dashing to retrieve his camera while his mouth is stuffed with sweet honey toast. He eagerly clicks from photo to photo on the tiny screen of the camera - he's yet to transfer them to his laptop - pausing here and there to let his parents get a better look.

"These are stunning mingi, your talent for photography has improved so much!" Mingi's dad praises. Mingi beams with pride, especially because it was coming from his dad, the one who was initially hesitant to purchase the camera. He eats the rest of his breakfast happily, promising himself to save the photos into a hard disc later that night.

By early afternoon, mingi finds himself slipping in and out of consciousness, the result of a 3 hour night's sleep. He struggles to keep his droopy eyelids open while sorting out new record arrivals. At this time of the day, there aren't many customers, making him even more bored. He checks the time on his phone, still 4 more hours to go, he can do this.

Mingi decides to put aside his revision papers and focus on reorganizing the display shelves. He figures that as long as he kept his arms and feet moving, he would be able to beat the sluggish feeling in his body. In the background of the store, Day6's 'Zombie' was playing through the speakers. How perfect, it was exactly how mingi is feeling in the moment. He instinctively begins singing along to the lyrics while figuring which vinyls to display at the stores front windows.

Just then, the bells at the entrance jingle, signalling that someone had walked through the doors. Mingi quickly straightens himself to greet the customer, only to be met with a middle aged woman dressed in thick winter wear. "Hi, may I help you?" He says to her.

"Yes actually I'm looking for a vinyl or two for Christmas presents. Do you happen to have vinyls for The Script and Westlife?" She asks with a friendly smile.

The familiar band names rung through mingi's mind, whoever liked them had good taste in music. After a bit of searching, he finds the section with the respective vinyls and leads the woman to it. Seeing how focused she is on finding what she needd, mingi left her to browse through.

"I'll get these," she says, placing one vinyl by The Script, and a Westlife CD onto the counter. Mingi scans the items and puts them into a bag, handing it to her along with the receipt. "Thank you so much, young man. Here's a tip, happy holidays!" The bells jingle once again, leaving only soft tunes playing in the store.

It was customers like the woman that made mingi feel more appreciated for what he did. Even though he merely worked at a record store, most customers that ventured inside were either music lovers just like mingi, or introverts looking for a place to recharge with the aesthetics of music. It's tough to explain, why music is so powerful, why humans just simply wouldn't be able to survive without it. Mingi wants to create such art, more than anything. He wants to make music that can touch and connect the hearts of everyone. That, he is working on, every night in his bedroom.

His brother had thrifted an almost brand new guitar for mingi a few years back, and since then, mingi spends hours learning how to learn to play the instrument, as well as writing lyrics for his first ever potential song. He also joined the high school band club to gain more exposure, and utilise the equipment available to turn his dreams into reality. However, all it took was one nasty comment from another student for mingi to completely scrap everything he had. From then on, he never let the music he made escape the walls of his bedroom. Every note, every lyric, remained within his safe space, too afraid of getting torn apart.

Sometimes mingi's brother would ask to hear his songs, and mingi would play for him, but only half of it.

In the wee hours of the morning when mingi can't go back to sleep, he sits by his bedroom window, headphones over his ears, listening to his lonely voice echo through till the stars fade into daylight.