#seoah ft. tida — thread i.

[nouvelis]

continued from here, ft. tida chiang @shimmerseas.

dumbfounded. for a few short moments, he wonders if he missed something– something very major; more than a little bit important. ( how could it be possible: to miss not just Seoah falling in love with him, but also, out of it? could he go through life not noticing any of that– ?! only he could be that oblivious... ) but finally, he gets ahold of himself: shakes the stupor of confusion out of his last braincell. it clicks: she was a WRITER, after all. what did song-writers write about more than anything else? love, of course...   

he stumbles into an answer, finally, no longer staring at Seoah wordlessly with a furrowed brow, brain playing the Jeopardy Theme Song as he desperately tried to make sense of her words – the how, the why, the specifics of this timeline of love and loss, the complete impossibility of her liking him, all of it – no, surprised curiosity takes over instead. “ oh. what’s that? a song? ” lyrics, probably: not some kind of sad confession of fading love...

but damn. even knowing that now, he finds himself oddly shaken by words that weren’t even meant for him. the true mark of a skilled writer: she almost made him believe in – and grieve for – someone else’s love story; whatever poor soul inspired this song. or maybe he’s just too scared, at the thought of hearing those words from someone for real, more susceptible to the mere suggestion of them than most... a quirk of a relieved grin, as he jokingly sympathizes.  “ 'kinda glad I’ve never dated someone whose a singer. imagine the song everyone’s bumping is about how much your ex is over you, and you have to hear it like two hundred times a day. sucks to be that guy. ”  but, if they did something bad enough to earn a Taylor-Swift-style callout through song, maybe they deserved their fate.  “ but I guess there’s worse ways to get broken up with – like a text. ” at least they had to put effort into a song...

“oh, sorry — did i scare you?” seoah lets out an abashed chuckle once she realises what she has done, pulled out from the trance by tida’s string of questions. it is a strange habit, though perhaps one shared by many writers. scribbling songs in her head as her mind drifts past the sea of memories and half-finished conversations, uttering words that she doesn’t mean to divulge to listening ears. “it is, i was just thinking out loud.” astonishing her company when they are in the middle of preparing for dinner probably isn’t the best idea, not when chopping boards and knives are being used. 

her gaze drops the the pieces of vegetables on the chopping board from the ensuing ramble, she listens intently and offers a faint nod in response. while it is not a rare opinion, she cannot explain the twinge that twitches in her chest as he says it. or maybe she can, she just doesn’t want to admit it. not to him, not even to herself. why bother starting something that can never stand a chance? she likes them enough like this, him with his silly jokes and her with her mouthful of thoughts that he hasn’t grown tired of. it is better this way, for them to remain friends when the alternative has the potential to be so devastatingly ruinous. 

“right — it does suck to be that guy.” another nod as she bites her bottom lip and buries the words unsaid. words that are better left unsaid. she wonders, for a second, if tida can spot the nuances in her song on a hopeless crush that is far beyond her reach. her gaze continues to avoid his, she picks up the bowl of carrot slices and throws them into the pot of boiling water. she watches as bubbles rise and dissipate in the water, swallows the feelings that bubble at the base of her throat. “but isn’t it kind of nice, in a way? to matter that much to someone, enough to have your love immortalised in a song?” she says in defence of all songwriters and blinks away all personal sentiments regarding the matter. “then again, i’m very biased.”

[nouvelis]

shimmerseas​:

   “ no, it’s okay. I knew it wasn’t about me… ”  aside from those few brief seconds of emotional turbulence, anyway, before his logic kicked in and told his heart to get a grip. obviously she wouldn’t write a song like that about him; so he’s not the one who has to be ‘scared’. ( he should be relieved by that, for the sake of his heart, and all, but… it’s complicated. maybe he’d take any kind of song, even a sad song, if she was writing it for him. ) although, in fairness, he really has no idea what this song’s about from one line alone: and he’s very curious to know more. but, she talks about music all day, doesn’t she? maybe she wants a break from it… and wasn’t that exactly what he was meant to be? no industry exec or fellow artist, just a old friend. so he doesn’t ask, for now…     he finishes his assigned chopping task with quick easy knifework— leaning his back against the counter, hands perched behind him— to look at her, a smile on his face that warns he’s about to say something a little impish.  “ but you know what, it kinda makes sense you grew up to be such a heartbreaker. ”  he’s kidding, of course; she’s not really like that, he thinks. he just means it as a compliment, really, a testament to her popularity! ( she was lovable, that’s for sure… ) and a unconscious confession, maybe;  “ back at the cafe, I’m pretty sure they all had a crush on you. everyone wanted Seoah as their waitress. ”  ( or had he been projecting that the whole time? … nah, he decides: look at how cute she was, writing songs aloud while cooking. who wouldn’t have fallen for that? he wasn’t special in that regard — ) in any case, his tone is teasing: the way he always does. the privilege of someone who was there to experience her rise to fame: you can still see someone revered as the cute girl from cafe, the kind of person you could exchange lighthearted jokes with. but it was kind of a curse, too. ( because he used to think he maybe had a little bit of chance with her, back then, flirting in the most innocent, youthful of ways… and sometimes when they’re together it feels the same as those days, ( he can almost sense the familiar scent of the cafe’s signature coffee ), but the reality remains: everything is so different…  )       his head tilts in thought, and ultimately, solid agreement, at her question, though his playful expression turns a touch more solemn.  “ I guess so… ”  of course it would be nice, to have that, but, well… couldn’t be him, he guesses. he turns back around to attend to the tasks she’d given him, even though he doesn’t actually have anything left to do. they’re shoulder to shoulder in her kitchen, and he thinks again, how everything really is so different. but he guesses it’s much better than it was back then, in some ways; she’s no longer busking plates of food, and he’s no longer ordering it: no, instead, they were working together to make it. it’s really nice… he’s looking at her with a smile — forgotten any trace of regret for what they didn’t have, in this moment, just grateful for what they were. “ what do you want me to do now? ” the next step in the recipe, he means.

“me — a heartbreaker?” seoah repeats his words, an amused smile ghosting on pink lips as she gives him a look of feigned offence. “is that what you think about me, now?” the accusation is said in jest, though she genuinely hopes the opposite to be true. it is easy for strangers who have never met her to toss labels around and attach whatever to her name from unfounded rumours. in fact, it happens so often that she has learnt to grow a thicker skin and stop caring about the nonsense. some people are going to choose to believe in them no matter how she tries to clarify, anyway, so why bother? it hasn’t been an easy or painless process, but she has gotten much better at handling them now. her friends, however, are her comfort zone that exists beyond the hearsay and madness that surrounds being a celebrity — and tida is part of it, too, a semblance of something sure and safe. 

it feels surreal to think about how different her life has changed in the matter of a few years. once a nobody who only busked on bustling streets after her work as the barista, now a name recognised for her songs and on-screen persona. she didn’t loathe what used to be her life, one that was ordinary and far from the spotlight, but she is grateful that things have worked out despite the trials and turbulence. she misses it sometimes, even. the simplicity of what was, the needlessness to pretend to be someone better all the time. but right here, right now, there is no need to pretend. not around him, never around him and she cannot put into words how much she cherishes it. ( it is why there are lines that cannot be crossed, some things matter too much to be ruined over a song or a tabloid cover ).

she beams from his mention, suddenly nostalgic about the place where she got scouted and all the wonderful people she met in it, him included. “ah, is that so?” she hums, though she is by no means unaware of all the extra attention she got during her shifts. however, it’s always easier to associate it with her characteristic friendliness than other ulterior motives. she studies his features for a moment, then, quiet in thought. “well, not all of them... or do you have a confession to make?” she teases back, shakes her head and covers it up with another chuckle, more nervous than the last before she clings to the perfect distraction. “can you chop some garlic for me, please? all that’s left to make is the sauce...” she glances at the other pot bubbling loudly next to the soup in the making. “the pasta’s almost ready.”