Melody Meets Silence

Amelia Miller

Sarangichi was as vibrant as ever. Neon signs raced for attention, different neighborhoods bustled with culture, and skyscrapers reached up, reflecting the city’s boundless color off the glass. In the streets walked couples with matching outfits while children played with paper planes in the parks engulfed with flowering trees. The children’s parents watched with glee.

In the evening, when the neon turned to lights and the city glowed in the dark, I would sit on the rooftop of my apartment building inhabited by international students and watch the nightlife unfold and the lights flicker. I heard everything and nothing at the same time, the loud of the night mixed with the silence of that rooftop.

But this time when I climbed the last steps to the rooftop, I noticed a boy the same age as me, one I had noticed before on the school campus. He had earbuds in; he always had them in. It was like he was always there but disconnected from everything else, engulfed in his own world of the sound only he could hear through those earbuds. He sat at the lone bench, his eyes looking out toward the mountains beyond the city. I wonder what he’s listening to, I thought as I sat on the other end of the bench to gaze out at Sarangichi’s electric glow. And then I heard it.

You know that I can’t

Show you me

Give you me [I can’t show you a ruined part of myself

Once again I put a mask on and go to see you]

But I still want you

I slowly turned my head toward the boy. He had disconnected his earbuds from his phone, letting the heartbreaking melody and lyrics break the silence of the rooftop. His gaze still lingered on the mountains and I looked there too, wondering what he saw in those peaks.

“I love this song,” I said. He seemed startled. “It’s one of my favorites.”

We turned our heads at the same time and our eyes met, dark eyes on dark eyes, his almost black but so beautiful, the city lights’ reflection making them look like two shining galaxies. Our eyes met for what felt like an eternity.

After a few seconds he half-whispered, “You know this song?”

I smiled slightly. “Yeah, I know all of their songs. I mean, the same as millions of other people do.”

He let out a little chuckle and turned his head up at the deep blue sky. “That’s true,” he said. “I guess I was surprised for a second because people normally frown and leave or tell me to put my earbuds back in. It’s weird because I know that there are millions of fans out there—especially in this city—but for some reason, no one has told me that they loved the song I was playing. Maybe it’s because, I don’t know, I’m a guy?”

“Do you always play the song you’re listening to out loud when there’s a stranger next to you?” I asked, listening intently.

“Yeah, it’s a little test that I do, to see if someone’s a good person or not. Usually people judge me for my music taste. Actually, you’re the first person who hasn’t judged me, as far as I know.”

“Why would I judge you?”

“Because I’m a guy that listens to boy bands.”

A slight frown crossed my face.

It seemed as if he didn’t feel confident in his music taste, that he was worried a person wouldn’t like him or even associate with him because of it. His eyes cast down toward the ground.

“I’m not going to judge you or laugh at you for liking boy bands,” I replied. “I’m going to applaud it. Just the fact that you listen to their music rather than shutting it out because it’s supposedly ‘bad’ is enough. Besides, I like that you’re a guy who listens to pop music. I usually never see that. And honestly, I think that any girl like me who loves boy bands would be ecstatic to know that there’s a guy who loves them too.”

He nodded, those glistening eyes flickering between mine. “I guess I haven’t played my music to a female stranger.”

“And why is that?”

“They never sit next to me.”

“Hmm, maybe it’s because they think you’re intimidating.”

He playfully frowned. “Intimidating?”

“Yeah, I mean you’re always alone with earbuds in. Kind of mysterious, if you ask me.”

“Always? You mean you’ve seen me before?” he said, a confused look on his face.

I looked him in the eye, a slight panic washing over me. In a soft voice I said, “Yeah, we go to the same school, and, well, you’re kind of hard not to notice.” It was true. He was what I found beautiful. Dark eyes, dark hair, slightly long and parted to the side, an unfathomable aura, mysterious but with a glimpse of innocence. He was the kind whose smile, rare but gentle and heavenly, had the ability to take one’s breath away. He was silent for a few seconds.

“I see,” he said, then hesitated, looking down at the well-lit street. “I noticed you too.”

Now it was my turn to sit in silence. I never thought that I was the type to be noticed. I had always wanted to be seen but never was. I focused my attention on the architecture of a skyscraper. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he spoke in a low voice. “You’re pretty.”

I flushed, trying to hold back a smile, looking at a balcony and noticing a couple, the man gazing at the woman with a loving stare and I knew that he thought she was beautiful. I turned my head back to the boy next to me who cleared his throat.

“Anyways, do you want to listen?” he asked, holding up his phone. I nodded, and he began playing another song, the lyrics flitting out in the night. [Like that snow that just settled down

Let’s breathe, like the first time] (Ooh-ooh) And you’re gonna be happy (Ooh-ooh) And you’re gonna be happy

Turn this all around [When everything is new], zero o’clock

It was then that I realized it was zero o’clock, midnight, and I smiled, realizing that I was happy and hoping that he was too. We sat in silence for a while as the city rolled with life, enjoying the slight breeze and the breathtaking view of Sarangichi, all while the music swept through the night and into our hearts several times over.

“Can I ask you something?” I said, glancing over at the boy I met on the rooftop, a mild glow from the street lights reflecting on his skin. The sun had disappeared and the moon and stars stood out in the sky, the stars twinkling, the moon beaming, almost full. The street was quiet, but not without people, the murmurs of a conversation audible in the distance.

“Of course.” He nodded as we turned the corner of the street, heading toward the park where children threw paper planes, lights guiding the way.

“Why were you playing ‘The Truth Untold’ when we first met?” In the distance walked a couple, hand in hand, enjoying the rare quiet of the night.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, did it come up on shuffle or did you specifically choose that song?” I looked at him, wondering if there actually was a reason behind it. I knew that sometimes people simply listened to songs that they liked without any particular reason—I certainly did—but for some reason I had the inkling that he consciously played that song. There was something about the way he had gazed at the mountains beyond the city, like he was longing for something.

“Hmm, well…” He paused, pondering.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, it’s not that. I’m just...thinking.”

A small smile washed over me as I locked my gaze on the grey, polished concrete of the street. He was the type of person to contemplate, not evade, and that, I thought, was laudable, beautiful even.

“I think that day I had lost a bit of my confidence,” he began, eyes on a sycamore tree standing on the street, “I don’t know exactly why, but, I did. And, whenever I feel down, I like to sit on that rooftop, look out at the city, and listen to emotional songs, ballads, or any songs with soft, late-night vibes. And when you came, ‘The Truth Untold’ came on and I wanted to share it because it’s so heartbreaking yet has such a profound message that needs to be delivered to everyone who struggles with confidence and self-love. Of course, I didn’t know if you were struggling, but I was that day, and, well, I guess I didn’t want to struggle alone like I usually do.”

“You’re really something, you know,” I said, ducking under the branches of the sycamore tree.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” He replied, tittering under his breath.

“You’re just so ruminative. I’ve never met someone who puts as much thought into everything they do as you do. I mean, there are countless other people who act on impulse, which is okay, but when people don’t realize the consequences of their actions, that’s where it gets iffy.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I do put thought into everything. Sometimes I feel like it’s a flaw, though, because I tend to put in too much thought.”

“Well, that’s what I like about you,” I said, looking him in the eye and noticing a strand of hair falling over his forehead, feeling the urge to brush it back.

He looked down at the street, timid.

“Thanks,” he whispered, sweeping his hair back, a small smile visible.

When we crossed the next street, he smiled brighter. We had entered the park, skyscrapers’ illuminated peaks poking out from behind the trees now replete with leaves, adding a little color to the night.

“I think this park is a good place to look at the stars,” he said, head back, eyes up toward the sky.

“Yeah,” I agreed, “I haven’t had the chance to see the stars with all this nature surrounding me though. I’ve always looked at them from the rooftop.” The view of the stars from the rooftop was always accompanied by Sarangichi’s everlasting color of the intricate buildings and signs lining the streets.

“They’re brighter here,” he replied, turning his head and locking his eyes with mine.

His eyes never failed to make my heart flutter, and all I could do was whisper, “Yeah.”

I watched as he plopped himself down on the freshly-trimmed grass and laid back. I did the same.

“Here,” he said, handing me an earbud, “I thought I’d bring these so there are no people wondering why there are two random strangers playing music out loud at night.”

I laughed, amused and quietly pleased that he was being considerate to other people.

“So, how are you feeling tonight?” I asked, slightly wincing at my words.

He looked at me, moderately confused.

“I mean, you’re the type to play what you feel, so I was wondering what music you were going to play.”

“Ah yes, of course,” he replied, shuffling through songs on his phone.

He seems nervous, I thought, as I glanced at him, hair falling in several directions in the grass, but I am too.

“Actually,” he started, “I’ve been wanting to play this song for a while now, but I keep getting nervous.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a message to you.”

“Oh,” I said, wondering what that message was.

“This song,” he paused, “is how I feel when I’m with you.”

I glanced at him again, a smile forming on my face.

He pressed play, and we listened as the moon and stars seemed to glow brighter.

Everybody’s looking for love to start a riot

But every time I look in your eyes

The world gets quiet

So let it go, let it fall, let it fly

We’ll keep on trying

‘Cause I knew I was in love with you

When we sat in silence

The music brought a wholehearted sense of giddy comfort, the melody soft but the beat strong, resembling that of a heartbeat. I couldn’t help but feel as though my heartbeat matched that rhythm, the fluttering beat of falling in love. I took his hand. The corners of his lips turned up into a soft smile, and we looked up at the stars.

Author’s Note: This story takes place in a fictional city in Eastern Asia called Sarangichi that is inspired by both Tokyo and Seoul. There are several song lyrics quoted in the story: “The Truth Untold” by BTS, “00:00 (Zero O’clock)” by BTS, and “Silence” by Before You Exit. [ ] indicates lyrics translated from Korean.