WESTTHESUNFROMANOTHERSTAR, Chapter 17: Guitar – Drum

   Arthit

   In the familiar bedroom with a large bed covered by dark blue sheets, heavy curtains, a dresser, and wardrobe, this has been my room since I can remember. From when toys were scattered all over the floor to when it was filled with high school books, and now those books have been moved elsewhere.

This room has changed over time and through my different life stages, but since I had to move out after high school, it’s much emptier than it should be. Still, it remains a familiar place to me.

This house is the same; it’s still home even though some things are missing. Knowing that Mom left so many good feelings in this house, I realized it’s not a place full of sadness as I once understood.

The reason Direk and I moved out and only come back once a year is because we couldn’t stand being in a place full of our memories, but in reality, the last memory of Mom was us all together here, and it was when she was happiest.    Last night was the first in many nights that I slept soundly. Since I left the country to find Mom, I hadn’t slept well, not knowing if it was due to accumulated fatigue over several days or because I felt at peace. It was probably the latter.

After crying my eyes out last night, talking with Direk, and thinking about many things, plus the words from that short guy helped, all that made me feel better, like I had let go of everything I’d been carrying.

It’s like I’ve been revived, reborn as a new version of myself, emerging from a pit of despair fully armed, ready to face all the crap in the world, be it punches, kicks, or whatever comes my way.

“Just say that. Who can get over it that quickly? Give me some time, accepting it doesn’t mean I can get over it instantly. It won’t get better by a hundred percent, but at least I’m living in reality and not in as much pain.”

I woke up around nine, showered and dressed quickly as usual, went downstairs to grab something light to eat, then headed upstairs to one of my familiar places, the music practice room.

As you know, I play the drums; it started in high school because I loved rock music, so I learned to play. Direk bought me the drums and even soundproofed the room so I wouldn’t disturb others. After my friends found out I could play, we formed a band, playing music for fun, making cheesy songs just for us to listen to, until suddenly we became popular. Our band was well-known in school and the surrounding area, but once we graduated, everything ended.

I looked at my music practice room where my old drum set stood, along with other instruments that Direk bought in case I wanted to switch things up. I do play them sometimes, but I prefer drums the most, followed by guitar.

I checked everything and found that my drums were in perfect condition because Direk still has people maintain my instruments periodically. So every time I come back, everything is still in place and working fine. I connected my phone to the Bluetooth speaker, picked a song, and soon the familiar rock beat started playing. I swung my drumsticks with familiarity and hit the drumhead.

Letting my body move with the rhythm without thinking, it felt like releasing everything with the heavy music. There was no holding back at all, after several songs, I was tired enough to take a break and drink some water, brushing the hair off my face in annoyance, sweat covering my face despite the air conditioning being on.

While resting, I heard the notification sound from my phone. I reached over to check it.

The little guy…?

I squinted at the notification for a while, not really knowing why I did that. When I realized, I opened it to see, it seemed he had sent a message about ten minutes ago.

SS:. There’s no food.

   ☀︎: Bread and jam are on the top cabinet.

   ☀︎: I changed the placement.

   SS: Found it.

   ☀︎: Or do you want something else?

   SS:. It’s okay.

   ☀︎: Come up after you eat.

   ☀︎: Second floor, right side, the room with the black door

   SS: Why?

   ☀︎: Can you play the guitar?

   ☀︎: Let’s play together

   SS:?

   SS: Okay

   Seeing that response, I put down my phone. It’s good to have someone to play with. I sat and waited until he walked in, his expression as indifferent as usual, looking around the room for a moment.

“…” He looked at me but didn’t say anything.

“What can you play?” I asked.

“Guitar, keyboard.”

“Try the guitar then.”

“…” He didn’t respond, walked over to pick up the electric guitar, plugged it into the amp, sat down, placed the guitar on his lap, put his fingers on the chords, and started playing. I was a bit surprised that he chose the electric guitar, then the guitar solo started, making me stunned by how he played.

“Wow.” I said without thinking, this short guy always has something surprising.

He looks unassuming on the outside, but there’s a lot of interesting stuff hidden.    I’ve noticed this from his painting, the music he listens to, the novels he reads, and now this guitar playing.

“You’re really good, have you played in a band before?”    He shook his head.

“Shows, competitions, things like that?”

“Never.”

“Never at all?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Just play by yourself?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a pity you’re this good.” I said. He didn’t respond, just turned his attention to the room instead. If he’s this good, he must have practiced hard. Practiced so hard but not showing anyone? “Then why do you play?”

“It’s fun.”

“You play just for fun?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not interested in pursuing it seriously?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve got enough work already.”

“Meaning your painting work?”

“Yeah.”

I shrugged slightly and didn’t say anything more. He must be like how I used to be, playing drums alone, doing it because it was fun, practicing hard because I wanted to get better, and the better I got, the more fun it was. I used to think playing alone was enough until someone invited me to join a band, then I realized playing music with others is something else, especially with talented people.

   “What songs can you play?”

“Quite a few.”

“How about this one?” I asked, handing him my phone since he wasn’t far from the drums. He leaned in to look and shook his head. So I scrolled through until I found a song he could play, “Really? You can’t play easy songs but can handle the hard ones?”

“I’ve practiced it, I like this song.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Uh-huh.”

When the song started playing, I waited for the guitar lead to go first according to the track. We needed to keep the song playing because we’d never played together before; it would be too hard, especially without a singer. After a while, when it came to the drum part, I started playing, letting my body move naturally. The person playing the guitar looked at me with a slightly puzzled expression, but I didn’t pay much attention because I was focused on drumming.

After we finished playing, I asked:

“What are you looking at?”

“That was cool.”

“Huh?”

“The drumming earlier was cool, you’re really good at it.” He said in a calm, monotone voice with the same indifferent expression as always. I furrowed my brows in surprise at receiving such a compliment with that tone and look.    When it comes to drumming, I’m very confident in my skills; I’m used to getting praised for being good. I raised my eyebrows the way I usually do, trying to convey with my expression something like, “Of course.”

“You’re good too, with the guitar.”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded slightly before putting the guitar down and standing up, walking towards me with an expression like he had something to say. “Can I ask for a favor?”    “What?”

“Teach me.”

“Drums, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why do you want to play?”

“It looks fun.”

“Okay, sure.” I stood up for him to take my place. He picked up the drumsticks and started hitting here and there with interest, his eyes beginning to sparkle slightly. This short guy with the blue hair really does everything to the fullest, doesn’t he?

I started explaining the basics; he listened intently and seemed to try to remember every detail. I showed him some simple rhythms, and within minutes, he could follow along. I don’t know if he’s a genius or what, but one thing I can sense is that he’s damn determined.

Seeing how good he is at many things, he must love learning, like wanting to do this, wanting to try that, in contrast to his outwardly indifferent look. Once you get to know him, you want to know him more; he’s an interesting person you don’t often meet. He seems unremarkable but has a lot hidden.

And everything he did to help me this time, I remember it all well, including those words that still linger in my mind.

I glanced at the person drumming with such focus, his expression more appealing than ever.

Until the drumstick slipped from his hand. I snapped out of my daydream because the stick flew near me, so I picked it up and handed it back to him.

“If you hold it like that, it’ll slip.”

“How should I hold it?” He asked. I reached out to adjust his grip on the drumstick, holding his small hand and gently squeezing it to show him how to hold it tighter.

“Why are your hands so small, that’s why the drumsticks keep slipping out.”    “Uh, hey.” He called out. I let go immediately.

“Sorry, I was zoning out.”

“Uh-huh.” He just answered before turning his attention back to the drums, using the grip I had just shown him.

“Just play for now, I’ll be right back.” I said. The other person didn’t respond, just nodded. I walked out of the music room, stopping at the same spot on the balcony, searching for a cigarette in my pants pocket, only to find an empty pack which I threw away in frustration.

What was that just now…

   Since I saw him drumming so intently, I thought he looked good, not to mention I thought his hands were nice to hold.

   Starting to admire many things about him, his personality that caught my interest without me realizing it, the music he listens to, the novels he reads.

   That’s cheesy…

   No, that’s not it, it’s not right. Definitely not right.

   I raised my hand to scratch my head in confusion, two conflicting thoughts battling each other chaotically.

   No way. No way at all!

   But it doesn’t feel bad, it feels kind of good actually. That little guy has helped with a lot of stuff. Plus, he’s very interesting; not many people listen to the music you do.

   So what? There are plenty of music listeners in the world. Besides, do you like someone as indifferent as a low-battery robot? And why does being indifferent matter? It’s not a problem at all, he’s short, and he has blue hair, for god’s sake, what normal person walks around campus with blue hair? But why talk about normalcy when you’re not exactly normal yourself, Arthit!

   I’ve always looked at people’s boobs first, and the little guy isn’t Meen! But that’s just the outside, you don’t even like those types of people, it’s just superficial and not important at all. And why look at the outside when you’re already pretty damn good-looking yourself! Yeah, that’s true! So what? You’ve always thought you weren’t into love, but if it happens, just accept it, right? What if I don’t accept it? Like, let it go, whatever, this feeling will go away on its own.

   But will it go away when you find him this interesting? People who make you feel like this aren’t easy to come by, you know. You might not meet someone like this again in your lifetime. Wouldn’t it be a damn shame to let it pass?

   Damn it! It’s like I’m arguing with another version of myself, this is crazy.

   What should I do in a situation like this?

   Fah! Fah, Fah, Fah, Fah, I need help urgently!

   I immediately called Fah, waiting a while for him to answer.

   (What’s up?)

   “Fah, can I ask you something?”

(Sure.)

   “Uh, how do I say this…Okay. When you liked your wife, how did you know?”

(…Arthit)

   “What?”

(You’re asking something weird.)

   “Just answer, come on.”

(I liked him, felt he was cute, I wanted to be with him, something like that.

But can you tell me why you’re asking?)

   “That’s it? Cute, wanted to be with him? What does ‘cute’ even mean? I’ve never gotten that feeling.” Because since I was born, I’ve never understood the feeling of ‘cute’; what others call cute, I just can’t grasp. I don’t understand what it means to be cute.

(Uh-huh, so this is about you, huh? You’ve gone and liked someone.)

   “Fuck, why do you think it’s about me?”

(Well, you said you don’t get the feeling, and who else could it be?)

   “Oh, yeah, yeah, whatever, just answer me quickly.”

(Are you confused?)

   “Do I look suspicious?”

(You look antsy. Do you like Nong Dao?)

   “Damn, Tonfah, you’re so perceptive.” I furrowed my brows, this bastard is too perceptive!

(I saw you with the kid, and before this, you were normal.)

   “Yeah, that short one, but I don’t think I like him. No. Definitely not.”

(Really? If you’re so sure, why call and ask?)    “Yeah, but Tonfah, I…

“Well, you?”

“I…I, damn it.” I cursed out loud because I couldn’t find the words, but Fah was right. If I was sure, why would I call him? Because half of my mind has already accepted that I like him, damn it.

(You probably thought someone like you would never like someone else.)

   “I know, you must be a parasite in my brain.”

(It’s not hard to guess since you and love are so far apart, I never thought there would be a day when someone like you would consult me about this. Jo and Hill would be speechless.)

   “Exactly, it’s weird, Fah, could it really happen? I’ve never cared about stuff like this before, you know. Everyone else has their partners, and I felt nothing.”

(So tell me what you’re thinking.)

   I recounted everything that was clashing in my head to Fah as much as I could remember.

(Uh-huh, from what you’ve told me, this guy really is interesting, perfect for you.)

   “Perfect?”

(Just right. Not too much. Not too little, right?)

   “Uh-huh. Maybe that’s it.”    Yeah…

   Not too much. Not too little, everything just fits.

   (If you miss this one, you might not find another.)

   “If I let it go, just whatever, because honestly, I…shit. I don’t know, I don’t know how to act, me, you know, I’m the type who…”

(There’s no rule saying you have to be a certain type to fall in love.)

   “…Shit, you make sense.”

(Then answer me one question, an easy one.)

   “…”

(With this guy or without, which do you prefer more?)

   Fah’s words made me fall silent, trying to think for a while until I came to an answer, sighing without realizing it.

“Fah”

(What do you mean?)

   “I think I like it more when he’s around.”

 

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