Flower-Bird Relations (3)
“It's got a different vibe from last time.”
Ayane set the guitar case down on the floor and spun around, taking in the whole practice room.
“Is it because this time Ayane's the one playing?”
“Nah, it's because there are fewer people.”
Tae-il chuckled softly as he dropped his own gear on the floor.
Typically, a practice room session involved at least four people: drums, bass, electric guitar, and vocals.
Depending on the room's size, but usually, with four crammed in, the space felt naturally cramped.
In other words, it was a bit too big for just two.
Last time, they'd squeezed five into this tight spot, so no wonder it had felt stuffy.
Empty spaces always feel vast compared to when they're filled.
Sound worked the same way.
Tae-il placed his bag in front of the synth.
“We can set up slowly, no rush. Let's turn on the amps first and let them warm up.”
“Okay!”
Just as Tae-il had taught her, she flicked on the amp and tweaked the knobs.
While Ayane fiddled with the amp and pulled out her bass, Tae-il unzipped his bag, took out his laptop, and started setting up.
His hands moved busily.
He connected the laptop to the synth, loaded up a scratch MIDI program for playback, and propped his tablet on the music stand to display lyrics and sheet music.
“Fwew.”
Tae-il took a deep breath, like he was shaking off tension, then quietly called out to Ayane.
“Ayane. Could you do me a favor?”
“What? What is it?”
“Well, this is a song and lyrics I made myself...”
“Ayane wants to see! Ayane absolutely wants to hear it!”
Ayane threw a tantrum before he could even finish, demanding to hear it.
It was the first time she'd see Tae-il's original work.
No reason to refuse.
Not the guitar playing that always drifted in through the window, but the real stuff he'd been hiding away.
Ayane looked at him with eyes full of anticipation.
Tae-il scratched his cheek, looking a bit embarrassed, and carefully handed her some earphones.
“Here. Better to listen with these.”
“Whoa, I'm so excited...!”
As Ayane puffed up with excitement, Tae-il hid his nerves behind a forced calm expression.
What he was about to share was raw audio—no guide vocals, no mixing.
A guide track might've been better, but it was too embarrassing, so he'd picked this one without hesitation.
“Playing it now?”
“Yeah!”
Ayane flashed an okay sign with her hand, and Tae-il held his breath before hitting the spacebar.
Right beside him.
From the earphones plugged into Ayane's ears, a melody laced with buzz hummed out faintly.
It was Tae-il's virgin track, one he'd heard so much from his past life that he could've been sick of it by now.
A moment later.
The noise faded.
The green waveform line, zipping left to right, finally stopped.
The song was over.
Tae-il swallowed hard.
His left hand was slick with cold sweat from clenching so tight.
“S-so... what'd you think...?”
He couldn't bring himself to look at her, waiting anxiously for her verdict.
'At least her face didn't twist up while she was listening.'
He stole a glance at Ayane, a sliver of hope in his eyes.
But.
“Mm...”
Ayane's delicate eyebrows twitched.
Confusion openly clouded her clear amber eyes, which had been so serene.
Anxiety crept across Tae-il's face, growing stronger by the second.
Ayane pursed her slightly parted lips.
“It's weird.”
Having heard Tae-il's song through, she closed her eyes softly, as if savoring the aftertaste.
“W-was it bad...?”
Ayane shook her head side to side.
“I dunno.”
“Huh?”
“For real. I listened, but I have no idea.”
She couldn't pin down how to describe the feeling.
Ayane was basically a total novice when it came to music structure or analysis.
Hearing an MR track without vocals was a first outside of karaoke.
She'd studied by looping bass solos, but the fullness from this full-band track felt completely different.
Honestly, until just now, she'd worried she lacked the skill to properly analyze or judge music.
'That was unnecessary worry.'
Listening to it stirred a strange melancholy, yet it also felt emotional.
Behind her softly closed eyelids, she pictured herself wandering a lonely sandy beach alone.
Gentle autumn waves lapping up to her ankles.
The sky high, clouds pure white.
It felt refreshingly cool, like a hole punched right through the center of her chest.
'But it's making me sad.'
A bizarre sensation, like rain could pour any second.
Even under a clear sky.
Like it was expressing the heart of someone forcing a bright front.
Ayane slowly opened her eyes.
The scene before her wasn't the sea—it was the practice room.
The cool breeze and energy she'd felt were just the wall AC's chill.
“Is there a version with vocals?”
“Uh, no...”
Tae-il looked down, as if feeling guilty.
“Ah! N-no, I didn't mean it's bad. For real!”
As Tae-il deflated, Ayane waved her hands frantically to explain.
“It was good! Really good! Just now, I was...”
“You were...?”
Tae-il stared at her, puzzled, and Ayane pressed her index fingers together, averting her gaze slyly.
“I wanna hear it with vocals too...”
“For real...?”
Not disappointment—expectation.
Tae-il's face flushed bright red in an instant.
His drooping eyes lifted, his anxious eyebrows quivering like they were in ecstasy.
Wearing an incredulous look, he stepped closer and grabbed Ayane's shoulders, shaking them.
“F-for real? You said you had no idea earlier!”
“Ah, haha. Calm down, Shin-jjang...”
“Uh, ugh...”
Tae-il trailed off and hung his head.
Even more than the anonymous foreigner's feedback on SoundSky.
Even more than reactions from friends he'd shown it to.
Even more than his own self-assessment—Ayane's words shook him to the core.
Ayane muttered in a strangely insecure tone.
“Ayane's basically a total beginner when it comes to music, right?”
So she didn't know how to put it into words.
“But if I keep listening to this...”
Images formed.
Like an MV at a song's debut, emotions shifted with the melody's flow.
The melody alone seemed bright and upbeat, nothing special—but somehow it felt lyrical, sad.
“Hahaha.”
Tae-il covered his face with both hands, embarrassed.
His head still hung low.
“Should've shown you sooner...”
He chided himself.
Instead of agonizing alone, if he'd just shared it with her, maybe he'd have started earlier.
Tae-il wiped away a stray tear.
“Man, this feels so good...”
“Ehehe.”
Tae-il's joy lifted Ayane's spirits too.
“But Ayane's a music noob, so maybe ask Iris for a proper critique?”
Ayane didn't love it, but she'd acknowledged Iris's vocals from the video Tae-il showed during study group.
Iris singing over Tae-il's melody would be worth hearing.
“I'll see Arisugawa on Monday anyway. Planning to show her then.”
“Right. That works.”
Ayane nodded with a bright smile, content that she was first for now.
But inside, she wasn't smiling.
'I didn't know. Studying bass alone isn't enough.'
To connect with Tae-il and help him, she needed to study music itself.
She decided to consult Takahashi-sensei soon, then asked to see the lyrics.
“L-lyrics, huh...”
Tae-il stiffened, like the moment had arrived. He picked up the tablet on the stand.
“Honestly, personally, I'm less confident about these.”
“The lyrics?”
“Yeah. So just give it to me straight.”
How bad could they be that he was laying this much groundwork?
Tae-il handed her the tablet with trembling hands.
Ayane skimmed the lyrics on the screen and blinked dumbly.
“These go with the song Ayane just heard?”
“For now...”
Ayane furrowed her brow.
The flawless image she'd built was suddenly distorted.
'The lyrics feel kinda messy...'
She hummed them roughly over the melody in her head.
'Nope. No clue at all.'
The refreshing vibe from the melody vanished as she read.
Familiar words she'd seen somewhere, jumbled chaotically, asserted their presence.
They seemed meaningful, yet utterly meaningless.
'Shin-jjang's profound message...?'
She glared at the tablet, but no specific impressions came.
Instead, the lyrics wrecked the imagery she'd had, leaving only confusion.
Seeing Ayane silent, Tae-il quietly accepted reality.
“The lyrics suck, huh...?”
“Ah, haha. Feels like even Shin-jjang has his weaknesses?”
Ayane forced a smile to comfort him.
“But some parts felt okay!”
“Haha...”
Not much comfort. Fatal blow already landed.
Tae-il dropped his head.
Ayane could only scratch her cheek at his obvious disappointment.
“Has Shin-jjang tried singing these lyrics?”
“Mumbled a few lines, yeah...”
“How'd it go?”
“Not great...”
“Thought so.”
Ayane smiled and handed back the tablet.
Tae-il lacked faith in himself.
He'd already judged them bad, yet sought others' opinions anyway.
And got hurt more.
In this sigh-inducing moment, he glared at the tablet.
It was a shame.
With Ayane's approval giving him confidence in the melody, the disappointment hit harder.
“Still can't get a handle on it?”
“Big time.”
He was trapped in self-contradiction.
Referencing others' lyrics to get a feel, but it wasn't easy.
Especially the emotional realm, invisible from lyrics alone.
You had to sing it to know.
Problem was, singing his own lyrics was mortifying.
'Not even a song I'd sing...'
He couldn't imagine himself belting it out.
'No flavor.'
Not just a guy singing a girl's key, or his vocals paling next to Iris's.
In his head, a woman's clear voice echoed relentlessly.
One voice linking mismatched Japanese, Korean, maybe English phrases.
'Should I just call Arisugawa here...?'
Tae-il shook his head.
Like with Rena and Ayane, he didn't want Iris seeing him flounder like this.
'It'd just fuel her insecurities.'
He glared at the lyrics again, eyes fierce.
“Shin-jjang...”
Despite his struggles to try something, to Ayane, he just looked like he was making excuses.
“What exactly feels off to Shin-jjang?”
“Everything, overall.”
“Not so broad.”
“...”
Tae-il leaned against the buzzing bass amp, eyes closed.
“Conveyance.”
The biggest issue he felt.
“No matter how great the melody or the singer's emotional delivery, a song needs to convey.”
Good songs hit even without understanding the words.
But that's just fleeting residue from melody and skill.
A volatile tune that evaporates after a moment or a slight distraction.
Tae-il didn't want Iris singing something she could brush off like lint.
“Guess the literary boy of the year is off the table?”
“Fine. Shin-jjang never suited that anyway.”
“Pffft.”
As Ayane nailed it, Tae-il pulled down his fedora to hide his eyes and let his pouty lips quiver.
With even his revised lyrics bombing, his feelings were a tangled mess.
“Maybe I'm not cut out for humanities...”
“Definitely.”
Ayane nodded in agreement.
Tae-il rarely read books, his reading comprehension was lower than expected, and he was distant from liberal arts in general.
“I don't get the lyrics' issues, but Ayane's felt Shin-jjang's dilemma before.”
“When?”
“Shin-jjang doesn't remember? When Ayane wrote the alumni response.”
“The alumni response... oh.”
Tae-il lifted his head, adjusting his fedora as old memories surfaced.
It was earlier this year.
Their middle school traditionally had the alumni rep write the response speech.
And this year, that rep was Ayane.
“At first, Ayane thought it'd be easy. Tons of examples to reference, right?”
Tae-il nodded.
Their middle school archived all incoming and alumni speeches.
“But actually doing it? Super hard. No idea what to say to the juniors.”
“I remember. You even whined at me for help.”
“Not whining!”
Ayane bristled.
Definitely whining, Tae-il muttered under his breath.
“Anyway! I agonized a ton. Already graduating, but wanted to leave a good last impression.”
“Must've stressed you out. You were famous.”
Fame inevitably brought one thing.
Backbiting.
Ignorance is bliss, but knowing random people trash you makes your heart race, vision narrow, breath short.
Anxiety symptoms.
Unlike the original story, Ayane had been exposed to that constantly.
Her sole support back then was Tae-il, always by her side.
“Shin-jjang got famous around graduation too, right?”
“Your fault.”
“Ehehe...”
Honored with the alumni response, but the pressure was immense.
She'd barely made it to the same high school as Tae-il after twists and turns, her mental state fragile.
“So Ayane worked super hard. Wanted everyone to remember her as a cool senior.”
“Cool senior, huh...”
Tae-il recalled idols' dilemmas.
Leave gracefully with applause, don't cling ugly.
“Well, after graduating, it didn't matter anymore.”
“Time makes everything like that.”
Tae-il hugged his knees and laughed.
Days when his inexperience made him freak out seriously now seemed foolish.
If he could go back, he'd handle it better, he sometimes regretted.
'I did go back to the past, in a way...'
Doing better now? Eh?
Tae-il had no words for repeating pathetic pasts, just a hollow laugh.
Without Izumi, he might've given up until late graduation.
“So, how'd Ayane solve it?”
“I shed my shame!”
Why else call it a black history?
Looking back, those actions and thoughts were utterly childish and embarrassing.
On graduation day, Ayane braved the embarrassment and delivered a legendary speech.
Pouring out hidden true feelings, she left school light-hearted.
So she could say it proudly.
Shed your shame.
In other words, muster your courage.