Intermission (3)
Shin Ji-won no longer had the capacity to be surprised by Yoon Jay's performance, which replicated even the habits of his own past playing down to the smallest detail. He simply walked over and stood beside Kang Hajun, whose mouth was pressed into a tight line.
"...He really is insufferable, isn't he?"
"Honestly... yeah, a little. He's good at everything, so I can't help being jealous."
"Hold onto that feeling exactly as it is. You'll need to unleash it when Tae-hyuk is watching."
"Really? I thought Yi-hyun wouldn't have emotions like that..."
Well — the Yoo Tae-hyuk and Jung Yi-hyun that Shin Ji-won had imagined were two people who saw only the best in each other, envied each other, and burned with competitive fire. But they never noticed the shadow hidden beneath all that perfection. That shadow was destined to become the very device through which they would come to understand each other in the film's latter half.
"Where in the world would you find a perfect person? Everyone lives carrying their own burdens. Isn't that right?"
"...Director. The more I think about it, the more it feels like our roles got swapped."
"Nope. When it comes to playing Yi-hyun, our Hajun is the perfect fit."
Is he, though? Kang Hajun remained half-convinced, but what could he do when the director said so? If even the director was telling him this, it drove home once more what Yoon Jay had said — stop obsessing over the playing, and pour yourself into the acting instead.
"Director, is there any direction for me?"
In the meantime, Yoon Jay had finished playing and turned the question to Shin Ji-won.
"Jay, I don't suppose you've ever once been jealous of anyone in your life?"
"I'm human too. Why would you assume I haven't been?"
At that answer, the director and the actors all turned to look at him as if surprised. Frankly, with a face like that and talent to spare, they'd assumed his life must be nothing but fun.
"Hyung, you get jealous too?"
What do they take me for? Yoon Jay furrowed his brow slightly.
"Of course I do. I get jealous. I've had plenty of regrets, too."
Regret lived in his past. There was Yoon Jae-hee, who had failed to overcome the illness that fame had burdened him with — and there were the many lives he hadn't managed to save.
Jealousy... well, he supposed he'd felt it when the news broke that the supreme leader of LIS had been killed.
I should have been the one to pull the trigger.
Yoon Jay knew he was different from other people. But he had never considered himself special. If anything, he thought his best friend and brother-in-arms Jayden — who had survived to the very end and seized victory without any of the abilities Yoon Jay possessed — was the far more remarkable man.
If only my body hadn't been broken...
The truth was, he was standing in Jung Yi-hyun's shoes. It was also true that throughout his life, he had rarely been able to feel emotions like envy or longing.
But when he'd heard the news about Jayden, he had felt a complicated tangle of emotions alongside the liberating sense that it was finally over. If he hadn't been medically discharged from the military, he too would have stayed until the end. He had taken his revenge on Asad Yasin Qadir, the man who had scarred him inside and out — but he had wanted to crush LIS itself, the very machine that had produced Asad.
Ah. So that's the feeling Yoo Tae-hyuk carries.
He could take that complicated knot of emotion — the envy and everything else he'd felt thinking of Jayden — and graft it onto Tae-hyuk. Understanding dawned across Yoon Jay's face.
"I'm relieved you've got some. I honestly expected blue blood if I ever pricked you."
"Wow, Director. You too?"
"Good grief..."
Looking thoroughly exasperated, Yoon Jay rubbed his temple and let out a small sigh.
Tae-hyuk, having led Yi-hyun into the shabby old practice room, sank onto a couch that had long since lost its shape and tore the plastic wrapping off a fresh pack of cigarettes.
Cough. At the smell of the smoke, Yi-hyun let out a dry cough. Some tough guy he is. Tae-hyuk laughed, finding it ridiculous.
"So you want to join our band?"
"Yes, hyung."
"Tsk. Your face doesn't say 'band' at all..."
"There's a face for being in a band?"
"There's no face like yours — total model student."
Yi-hyun's brow creased. With his straight, neatly combed hair and carefully pressed clothes, he looked every inch the honors student, the wholesome young man — while Tae-hyuk, in contrast, had his long hair thrown up in a careless knot and wore baggy, rumpled clothes that gave off an air of easy freedom.
"Play something."
"What should I play first?"
"What?"
With the drummer's seat sitting empty, obviously he should be expected to play the drums, no? But Yi-hyun spoke as though he could play every instrument in the room. Just days ago, this line hadn't existed in the script. Chae Jinhyeok, the session man, had shared the story of the first time he'd laid eyes on Yoon Jay, and the director had loved it so much he'd decided to work it into the film.
"Fine. Try that, then."
Tae-hyuk pointed deliberately at the electric piano. Yi-hyun settled in front of it and pressed the keys one by one, familiarizing himself with the notes.
What is this?
The awkwardness made it look as though he'd never touched a piano in his life.
"You never played piano before?"
"Nope. How could you tell?"
"I ask you to play and you're busy going on a blind date with the instrument. Are you going to play or what?"
"I'm getting to it now."
Once Yi-hyun settled into position, his fingers began to move with liquid grace. He really has never played this before?
What the hell?
Tae-hyuk's body started to sway. Listening to Yi-hyun play made his own hands itch.
Having finished a simple jazz number, Yi-hyun was looking at him as if awaiting a verdict.
"What was that? So you hadn't never played. Was that little act a performance?"
"I was serious..."
"Whatever. Can you play guitar too?"
"Yes."
Yi-hyun picked up the acoustic guitar nearest to him. His posture was surprisingly solid — it clearly wasn't his first time with a guitar either.
"Fingerstyle?"
The dazzling guitar work occasionally shifted into body percussion, striking the guitar's body as part of the rhythm. Tae-hyuk's foot pounded the floor in time.
He's seriously good at guitar too. Then what about drums? After all, Yi-hyun had come to fill In-soo's empty seat.
"Now play the drums."
"Okay."
"Hold on."
Tae-hyuk sprang up from his seat and strapped on the bass. The audition was over; now the jam session began. Tae-hyuk's deep, rhythm-laden bassline cut in first.
Yi-hyun, who had been almost timid in the face of that virtuosic playing, gradually flushed red. He struck the hi-hat hard twice — a signal that the drums were coming in — and soon the sound grew rich and full.
Hey, you little bastard. This —
This is fun.
Tae-hyuk felt he had found someone cut from the same cloth, while Yi-hyun's heart thundered at his first-ever jam session.
Their gazes crossed, and the space around them began to shift. The sun set, then rose again. Household items accumulated in the practice room — most likely Yi-hyun's. The music swelled to match. A guitar joined in. At some point both men were in different clothes, and Min Joon-young had joined the session — a quiet way of showing that a good deal of time had passed.
"One more time."
"I'm dying here."
"Yah, Min Joon-young. You've got more in you."
Up to this point, honestly, Tae-hyuk had regarded Yi-hyun as nothing more than a serviceable stand-in. Maybe because Yi-hyun was the first person ever to keep pace with his level, playing together was genuinely fun.
Smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths, they dove back into the improvisation. Even Min Joon-young, who had whined about being exhausted, lost himself in the music.
And then Oh In-soo, returning once more to Agitato's practice room, froze solid on the spot at the sight of the stranger.
"Uh... huh?"
Clatter, thud. In-soo's bag hit the floor with a heavy slap, and the music stopped.
"You're back?"
"Uh... you, you already found a new member?"
No matter how many times In-soo stormed out in a huff, his seat had always been there, empty and waiting. But now someone new had filled it. Is there no place left for me to come back to? Stammering half-coherent words, In-soo bolted out of the practice room.
"In-soo!"
Min Joon-young went after him. Yi-hyun, reading the room, followed as well. Tae-hyuk — since the very bandmates he'd just been jamming with were all chasing after In-soo — had no choice but to trail behind them.
"Why'd you just walk off like that?"
"I figured... you don't need me anymore..."
"Yah, what kind of nonsense is that? You're a founding member of this band."
"I was only a guest, though."
"The only one who ever called you a guest is Yoo Tae-hyuk. You're our drummer."
Min Joon-young, doing his best to smooth things over, shot a glare at Tae-hyuk, who had belatedly joined them. Then he said, without a sound:
What are you doing?
What?
You grab him too. Right now.
Tae-hyuk was temperamental and prickly, but at his core he wasn't malicious. And with Min Joon-young working so hard at damage control, sitting there with his mouth shut felt a bit shabby even to him.
"Yah. Oh In-soo."
Not "drummer" — his actual name. At that alone, In-soo looked visibly, deeply moved. Under that gaze, Tae-hyuk scratched the bridge of his nose, awkward.
"Next time, don't lose the beat."
"Are you seriously the one saying that, you—"?
"If you're back, then hurry up and get inside."
With the blessing of their de facto leader, In-soo stepped back into the practice room — sneaking a wary glance at Yi-hyun.
"So that guy... what is he, exactly?"
"Him? Well, he's a new member, but he can play other stuff besides drums, so don't worry about it."
"Oh. Okay."
In-soo took his seat behind the drums again. Yi-hyun strapped on the guitar. And just like that, the band Agitato became a four-piece — two guitars, a bassist-slash-vocalist, and a drummer.
Sparked by the session with Yi-hyun, a musical idea seized Tae-hyuk, and he threw himself into work on a new song. Even so, his eyes kept drifting to Yi-hyun, who was quietly noodling on his instrument.
"So he's good, huh."
Yi-hyun handled not just guitar but bass, even vocals, without a single hitch.
Above all, the sheer joy on Yi-hyun's face as he moved from instrument to instrument — watching it made Tae-hyuk's own expression grow complicated by the minute.
"Yi-hyun is insane, right?"
"He's crazy good. I heard he was playing bass earlier too."
"Have you heard his original compositions? Honestly, we could put them on our album."
The whispers between In-soo and Min Joon-young reached Tae-hyuk's ears. Yi-hyun's genius, unleashed in full for the first time, was exploding into the open.
He earned the members' recognition — but at times, he was threatening Tae-hyuk's very place in the band.
Tae-hyuk, scrawling the freshly minted idea onto sheet music, hurled his pen down in a fit of temper.
"Yah! Practice, all of you!"
"That bastard's throwing a fit again."
And then, for no reason at all, he picked fights with Min Joon-young and In-soo.
"Hey, Tae-hyuk. Did you even think about what I said?"
So it was that Agitato, absorbed in their new album without noticing the gears beginning to grind out of alignment, arrived at a new turning point.
Media outlets, taking note of both Agitato's musicality and Yoo Tae-hyuk's looks, had come calling.
"A TV offer? Yah, that's a whole—"?
"There he goes again with the 'true art' speech."
"Yah, Yi-hyun. What do you think?"
"Wh-what, me?"
In-soo and Min Joon-young clamored over Tae-hyuk's words before he could finish. Everyone was drinking — everyone except Yi-hyun, who was quietly sipping cider poured into his glass.
It almost looked as though Yi-hyun alone didn't quite mix with the rest of them — and at the same time, it seemed to symbolize how Yi-hyun alone was beginning to stand out.
"Weren't we too talented to rot away in the indie scene forever?"
"Exactly. Music should at least be able to put food on the table."
If we go on TV and get famous, maybe I can change my parents' minds. Shooting glances at Tae-hyuk all the while, Yi-hyun voiced his own thoughts anyway.
"Uh... I think it'd be good."
"You heard him? Majority rules."
"You're the only one against it. Keep opposing this and I'm quitting."
It was a matter of the band's survival. Above all, he did need the money. Tae-hyuk finally signaled his surrender.
"Ha... fine. Have it your way."
"Jay, you're all set?"
"Yes."
The scene they were about to shoot showed Tae-hyuk imagining Yi-hyun's playing, then trying to replicate it. Yoon Jay had deliberately scored a crack into the grip of his drumstick.
"Are you sure it's all right to do it that way?"
"You were the one who suggested it, Director."
I want blood on his hands mid-performance. It's a perfectly dramatic device — I want Tae-hyuk to come out looking half-mad. Yoon Jay had accepted that direction wholeheartedly.
The only regret was that fake blood hadn't been brought in beforehand; the plan had simply been to apply red makeup to his hand. And yet it was Yoon Jay himself who, out of nowhere, had slit the drumstick with a blade.
"Let's do it in one take. If our actor's hand gets hurt, we're in real trouble."
Director Shin Ji-won welcomed Yoon Jay's injury-for-the-art dedication with open arms — even as he worried about the man getting hurt.
Then came the crack of the slate, and Tae-hyuk pounded the drums in a state of self-forgetting trance.
At first it was genuinely masterful drumming — but in his own mind, he could never match Yi-hyun. The tremor in his emotions bled straight into the performance. Gradually the playing collapsed, degenerating from drumming into pure violence — pounding, smashing, destroying. Sweat streamed from his hair, whipping wildly with every frenzied movement.
"Goddammit!"
Unable to contain his fury, Tae-hyuk flung the drumstick away in a burst of temper. It rolled clattering across the floor until it struck something and stopped.
A violin case, thick with dust. The violin — symbol of Tae-hyuk's past, and of the lingering stubbornness of his devotion to art.
Breathing hard and ragged, Tae-hyuk stared down at his blood-smeared hands.
The past flickered up — the days when he'd stood in the spotlight as a violin prodigy. And then the slow fall, as his skill stopped advancing and everyone began to look away.
Even so, he couldn't let go of music. That was why he'd started a band.
He had never been a born genius. Everything he had came wrapped in pain and relentless effort.
But Yi-hyun was different. Yi-hyun was the real thing. Watching himself compare Yi-hyun to himself over and over, he found his own jealousy ugly — and yet he couldn't smother the feeling no matter how hard he tried.
"Jung Yi-hyun..."
I bled for every bit of what I have. So how does everything come so damn easy to you?