When She Became A Pledis Trainee

CHAPTER 7: THE LETTER AND MANILA RAIN

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This is a work of Fiction. Names, characters, places and incidences are either products of the author's imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.

Please refrain from reproduction, transmission, or storing in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the author. Thank you, and enjoy!!

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I breathe in the crisp evening air and open my eyes. A focus of Boo Seungkwan was shown on screen, singing his part for 'Habit', one of my favorites. I was sitting on my guitar case, with Eunice and the other Carats. I was playing my guitar along, but only gently, afraid that it might compete with Seungkwan's powerful voice. My fingers were tired, playing a lot of acoustics for the Carats I met who wanted to sing SVT songs, mostly the vocal unit's songs, while waiting for the concert to start. I didn't even see the SVT members when they entered the Mall so I assumed they entered the mall elsewhere.

I smile when the fans scream after his high notes. I can even hear the shouts from out here. While looking at Seungkwan on the screen, smiling and waving at the fans, sending out flying kisses which can't escape the screen; a train of thought passed by so fast. I took a small piece of the first paper I grabbed from inside my guitar case. I got a bluebook, a thin recycled notebook with a blue cover which is commonly used in UP as an answer sheet for exams. It was full of scratch writings, scribbles, and numbers, except for a slim strip at the lower border of the back cover. I'll have to do with that. I took out my point 3 pen and started writing in tiny, minuscule script, so I could fit all of it in the slim strip of blue paper.

Dear Boo Seungkwan, one month and six days ago, a friend of mine sent me all of his seventeen songs because he said I'm always forlorn since I just listen to sad songs. Eleven days ago, I learned that you were coming to the Philippines, but I had no money for a ticket and I had so much exams coming. And so today, I'm outside the Mall of Asia, clutching this letter, knowing you'd probably never read it.

I was planning my death while nonchalantly listening to the Kpop songs my friend sent me. I kept identifying your very distinct voice. Then when I watched seventeen's dance practice videos just out of curiosity, you were always the first one I would recognize among the thirteen faces. I don't even know any of your names, but when I learned about you, I forgot all about planning my death. I saw how you strived hard to reach your dreams. I saw that you are strong and loving. Every meal, I would wonder if you ate already. Every time I lay at night, I wonder if you're resting as well. I kept wondering if you're fine and it's frustrating because I know I'll never hear you answer my questions. That's the way I love you.

I just want you to know that your simple existence spared a once suicidal life. You're wonderful. I don't love you because you're famous, or handsome (though you are), or had amazing vocals (though you really do) or because you love making people happy. I love you because I know, in this vast world, there must be someone just like me, who decided she wanted to live one more time just so she could witness you enjoy life. Because of you, my heart is literally still beating, and I still breathe and sing, and draw and live. I bet you have no idea what impact your existence is leaving behind. :)

I can't ask you every time if you ate or if you're tired or if you are fine. All I can do is wonder in my head. So promise to take care of yourself so that I could love you that way. Take care of yourself for me, okay?