Silence // Kim Hongjoong [completed]

Super-ego

     I had so many questions about myself. Ones that led to no answers. I found my answers in momentary pleasures and drowned away the questions with drink. I felt no sadness towards San's death, though I did feel a strange emptiness. I felt physically cold to think of him. Some weird feeling that left me feeling more confused than I had before.
     Perhaps it was the fact that I should be grieving. That I should be crying. But instead, it only felt awkward to me. To think that I knew someone so well and then suddenly they didn't exist anymore.
     I'd stopped designing clothes for my own peace and instead just did so for school purposes. I frequented one specific bar in town on my off days.

     That's where I met the violinist.

     I had visited the bar so often, everyone knew my name. All except for one. He was new to the area and knew none of the regulars, but slowly became one himself.
     His name was Kang Yeosang.
     He drowned out his questions like me and we tried to answer each other's weekly. Every Friday we'd sit at the bar, in the same seats like they were reserved and we spoke. We spoke of our questions and we'd answer them for each other. He was one who fancied the philosophical, enjoyed taking jabs at society and pondering the existential matters of daily life.
     In that sense, he was similar to me. He questioned humans and questioned their nature in a similar fashion as mine. The only difference was that he had an opinion from the inside. My only perspective was from the outside.

     He'd mentioned to me he was a violinist. That was interesting to me. I've always liked the arts, especially music. Music helped me feel through my ears. The only times I'd truly ever cried or felt joy was through listening to music.
     So I did not turn his offer down when he asked me to attend a concert. The venue was much more extravagant than I'd expected and much more people had turned up to see him play I'd thought.
     His playing was impeccable. I'd never felt so much emotion before.
     After the concert, we'd gotten together for some drinks at his apartment. Our instinct kicked in and we fell into lust. I did not leave his apartment the next morning until he woke up. Unlike all the others I had hooked up with for one night of simple pleasures, I wanted more.
    From then on, I attended every one of his concerts and in turn he would show up at the bar every Friday and we'd chat.

     Eventually, he'd fallen for me. I wanted to hear his music more, so I did not refuse his request. I was not in love with him, but I was most definitely in love with his music.
     I began designing again, making clothes for Yeosang to wear on stage. Ones that expressed the feelings within his music that would flow with his arms. I never put flowers on them, however. Yeosang loved flowers, but I could only refuse to meet that simple request. Flowers filled me with a sense of dread. A sense of disgust in myself.

     So I used stars for the patterns instead. They matched him much better than flowers anyway. They would sparkle under the stage lights and would bring meaning to his music that sounded like a question to the universe.
     My clientele once again built up after Yeosang had mentioned my name when asked about the clothing. I decided to build a website for it so I could receive orders properly. I did everything at request. But I always denied flowers. Especially alstroemeria.

     Yeosang and I did not live together, but we might as well have. I was either always at his apartment, or he was at my dorm. He would practice his music while I sewed and I noticed that every piece I'd made while he played would look far more beautiful than the rest.
     Eventually, I moved into his apartment and I got to experience his music much more often. For once, I felt human.

     Yeosang began complaining of back and shoulder pain, which ended us up at the bar more often than Fridays. He began to practice more often as he noticed something wrong with one of his arms. With the pain came sour notes and with that, followed frustration. The frustration brought on thirst and we'd sit in the living room and drink until we blacked out.
     One day, Yeosang found a bump on his arm which held the bow. He'd gone to the doctor and came back to me an hour later with tears in his eyes. He said it was only temporary, that he couldn't play anymore, but it could evolve into more issues.
     He drank almost every day and the alcoholism was contagious. He'd offer me a drink and I couldn't turn it down. My clothing orders became harder to complete as I slept most of the time and had no inspiration nor motivation to complete them.

     After a few months, Yeosang visited the doctor again. He came back and picked up his violin without saying a word to me. I expected him to play a song, smile and tell me he was alright. I watched as he silently grabbed it by the handle with shaking hands and smashed it into the wall before throwing it off of the balcony of the apartment.
     "She said I have severe tendonitis." Yeosang told me. His voice was full of fear and anger. "If I continue... I'll fuck up my arm so bad I won't be able to pick anything up again."

     I felt something within myself in that moment. I believe that was what sadness was. It kind of hurt. I'd never be able to hear his music again. I'd never be able to feel anything again.
     I left him soon after. If I could not listen to his music, then I did not want to be with him. Humans would call that selfish, but it is natural to me.
     Perhaps I am selfish, but that would make me human. I have no greed. I have no desire for possession, material or otherwise.

     Without his music, I felt empty again.