Chanyeol:
I wake up slowly, steadily opening and closing my eyes until it registers that I'm awake and at home. I sit up slowly, hearing the cracking of my stiff neck that had been bunched up under my duffel all night.
I roll in an uncomfortable lump onto the floor, gripping the coffee table to pull myself up right. I look around, still taking in my surroundings, the events of yesterday registering in my mind one bit at a time. Suddenly, my eyes shoot open and I sit up straight as an arrow. Yesterday! The journey, the concert, the paper in my guitar case!
The case is right next to me, propped against the couch and exactly where I sat it when I collapsed to sleep last night. My mind begins to race with the events of the concert and curiosity over what the hell is on that piece of paper. The entire trip home became even more tiring while concealing it. Although no one detected that anything was off, I had to keep myself from tearing it open along the way.
But now that I'm alone... am I ready for this? Do I really want to know? I'm not sure what causes me to hesitate but I shake it off.
'No! Now is the time!'
I become nervous all of a sudden, but I have to, for my sanity's sake, if for nothing else. I grab the guitar case, sit it on the coffee table and unsnap the latches. I take out the instrument gently and bring it to my chest. It always feels familiar, as if it's melded to my body, another arm, an extension of myself. I carefully pull the thin slip of paper out of the strings.
'There, that's better,' I think to myself. It's a small piece of paper folded in half. Opened up, it looks like the ripped corner of a full sheet of paper. On it, in simple, handwritten script are the words:
"Just Tell Him"
I'm taken aback. That's it?! That's all there is?! I turn the slip of paper over in my hand to check if there's more to it, but... That's truly it! That's really all there is to it.
My eyebrows furrow. What does it mean? Who did this? Who else could it be but the strange stagehand? My mind sifts through the events of the last 24 hours, thinking back to my conversation with him, cursing myself for not getting a name, even though I strongly suspect that he was an employee of the venue and not part of our traveling crew. So all I have to go on is our short conversation, which is still fuzzy in my mind. After all, it occurred when I was exhausted, spaced-out, in between sets.
"What did he say again? He complimented my guitar playing. He said he noticed... How shy I seemed... oh, that's right!' I thought to myself. Suddenly, I pause. In that instance, all of the pieces fall into place.
Oh... Oh no. No-no-no! Did he notice? Could he possibly have seen? No one knows. I've never told anyone my secret. But... the longer time goes on... I looked back down at the note "Just Tell Him."
'What? Was this guy a mind-reader?!' I thought to myself. 'Maybe he was right though maybe I should tell him... but there are so many unknowns facing me in this situation. Something so private, so terrifyingly personal that even thinking about it is too much?!'
But… When I sing there is always a force compelling me into the music until the words I am singing start to become truths I cannot ignore and if a regular guy just watching me from the sidelines can see it, maybe there are even more people who can as well.
I decide then not to deny it to myself anymore... What those three cryptic words mean to my life. It will never be the same.
I strum a few chords on my guitar. No one else could find out. But I was ready to admit it to myself, "I'm in love with him," I say out loud to no one but myself, yet it's still jarring to hear those words released into the universe. "I'm in love..." I repeat in a whisper. His beautiful face, his bright smile, all of him begins swallowing up my thoughts.
I start to play my guitar with fervor. I simultaneously play everything and nothing at all. I play one last note, listening to it fade out. I look around. I'm all alone in this huge apartment, and a single tear falls down my cheek.
