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hyeongjun did not come to university to make friends. not even in a mean, competitive way, it’s just true. he came to university to get his music performance degree and then proceed to do session playing full time. maybe teach some beginner guitar classes. online. from his bedroom. if he gets lucky he’ll become a permanent sideman for an established artist, which will pay better than sessions, which will allow him to buy his holy grail amp and solid-body, which he will then play in a sound-proofed, air-conditioned basement (which will be clean and comfortable and smell of wood, but not too much like wood), for the rest of his life. it sort of makes him nauseous when he thinks about it too much, that fantasy, because he wants it so badly.
regardless, friend-making has been so low on his list that halfway through freshman year his roommate had given him a pamphlet from the health office that read, Collegiate Isolation: You’re Not Alone! hyeongjun had bobbed his head politely and tucked it into one of his textbooks. the worst thing about university is that you have to get these awful things called “general education” credits, which is like high school again except the classes are longer and you can bring your phone. he still makes sure to register for at least one guitar or music class every semester so he can use the rooms and equipment in the music building. he probably spends more time there than in his actual dorm, which is because his roommate, taehyun, is really into magic and sleight of hand stuff, so he’s always asking hyeongjun to, like, pick a card or close his eyes or something and it makes him nervous. but the music building, despite being the place he comes to be alone, is also the place he met his friend, jungsu. (he thinks they’re friends. he’s ninety percent sure they’re friends. the day after jungsu had eaten lunch with him in the dinner hall for the first time, he’d texted his mom, i think i have a friend. he ate lunch with me. to which she’d replied immediately, Oh thank god.)
jungsu is a year ahead of him, a junior, a keyboardist, and hyeongjun has an inkling that he’s handsome, but because of his historic staring problem he doesn’t really let himself look at faces. if he has to, then he has a five-second-look/three-second look-away formula that works pretty well. but, today, he doesn’t need to look at jungsu’s probably-handsome face to tell that something’s on his mind. he keeps shuffling his sheet music, and his fingers wander around a melancholy rendition of prelude no. 1 on his yamaha. hyeongjun debates saying something briefly, but ultimately decides jungsu wouldn’t want him in his business, and it’s probably some chopin piece giving him trouble that hyeongjun would be useless about anyway. but after a few more minutes of reading about joseon dynastic politics, jungsu clears his throat. hyeongjun glances up—long enough to see that jungsu’s looking at him.
“what—um, what’s up?” hyeongjun prompts, taking the opportunity to refill the graphite in his mechanical pencil.
“so you… play guitar.”
hyeongjun looks at the massive case sitting like a petrified bear in the chair next to him. “yeah.”
“i mean—obviously, but i was just thinking… my friend gunil—he’s a senior, he does percussion—he’s doing this huge thing for his performance final. i guess it’s like a journey through the history of rock drumming? anyway i’m helping him out with, like, backup,” he gestures to his keyboard, “for a few songs, but he really needs a guitarist. i mean, he has jiseok but some of the songs are like, really demanding—but yeah, any interest in doing something like that?”
hyeongjun clicks his pencil anxiously; he doesn’t exactly like the sound of this, but—“i mean… i could probably like. i mean, what kind of songs?”
jungsu abandons bach and pulls out his phone, sitting in the chair next to hyeongjun not occupied by his guitar. “umm, i think he sent me an email, hold on.”
hyeongjun holds on. he clicks his pencil again and stares down at an artistic rendition of king gonghee the great in his textbook.
“ah, here it is! okay, looks like… add4… a fuckton of american stuff; nirvana, metallica, pink floyd, hendrix, um… han daesoo… yeah, stuff like that. interested?”
hyeongjun had been unconsciously sitting up straighter with each name mentioned, and he clicks his pencil again. “wow… yeah, i kind of, like, that’s who i listen to. a lot. i, like, learned a lot of solos in high school for fun.” he glances up again and catches the corner of jungsu’s beaming smile.
“dude, that’s amazing! i’m texting gunil right now, he’ll be so relieved—”
“wait,” hyeongjun interrupts, “um, sorry, um, will this be… like, in front of… like, people?” jungsu’s thumbs are tap-tapping at his phone screen, and hyeongjun clicks his pencil again.
“oh, it’s not, like, a performance, it’s just for his advanced percussion class which has, like, twenty people in it. the professor won’t even be paying attention to us, we’re basically set dressing.” his phone makes an ominous text-sending shwoop noise.
hyeongjun’s graphite (now unreasonably long from all his clicking) breaks with a little squeal across the page of his textbook.
“you’re good, right?” jungsu is frowning at him. hyeongjun knows without looking.
“yeah… i should warn you i’m… it’s sort of. i just get nervous. is all.”
“oh,” jungsu says, sounding relieved, “i totally get it.” hyeongjun gets the distinct feeling that jungsu does not get it. “i was a wreck when i first started doing recitals in middle school. but hey, it’s kind of in the name for us performance majors, huh? i mean, you’re a sophomore, right? so you’ll have to do a ton of skill checks and graded performances next year. might as well get used to it, right?”
hyeongjun feels a vertebrae pop with the force of his head snapping up. “what?! sorry. ow.” he rubs the back of his neck. jungsu laughs. hyeongjun is pretty sure he’s not trying to be mean.
“oh man, yeah, just because some of the upper division classes require auditions to get in. it’s basically a formality, and even if you don’t get in the first time they have to let you take it the next semester. so, no big deal!”
jungsu stands, stretching his arms above his head and making his way over to grab his keyboard. hyeongjun has severe anxiety-nausea; he’ll have to do oatmeal and sparkling water tonight. “hyun—”
“oh, i’ll add you to the group chat too, the practice schedule and everything’s in there. see you later, i owe you one!” and he’s gone.
hyeongjun sighs deeply and lowers his forehead to king gonghee, hoping to receive divine intervention. no such luck, so he replaces the broken graphite in his pencil again and starts packing up. he replays no big deal! in his head, trying to extract jungsu’s carefree breeziness like an antidote to inject himself with. trying to believe it.
really, the only thing that makes him feel better is taking out his guitar and methodically retuning it. his fingers slide, familiar, over the strings, and he mouths to himself again, no big deal.
𝄽𝄽𝄽
that night something terrifying happens, and it doesn’t even have anything to do with taehyun or a dove. his phone spits out a kakao notification, and it almost makes him fall out of his desk chair because he’s pretty sure he’s never gotten one before. jungsu usually messages him on line. he swallows and flips his phone over to see: you’ve been added to group message: make gunil hyung graduate by rocking out 🤘
hyeongjun takes a deep breath and sips his sparkling water. jungsu’s voice in his head again: might as well get used to it, right? he opens the app.
오!시발: i’m sure he won’t appreciate that, jiseok-ah.
주연은 주연: oh my god just addd himmmmm
주연은 주연: oh shit u did lmao
주연은 주연: OMG HIIIIIIII!! I’M LEE JUYEON!!!!!!!
정말 정수: he can read.
주연은 주연: WELL YEAH. OTHERWISE I WOULDVE SENT A SELFIE.
주연은 주연: actually that’s a good idea i should do that anyway
갉아먹는 지석: no you shouldn’t. he’ll be traumatized
형: jooyeon if you send another inappropriate picture…
주연은 주연: IT WAS A MEME WITH THE WORD FUCK IN IT.
오!시발: gunil hyung why are u like this
갉아먹는 지석: he was an RA junior year and never fucking recovered. god bless
오!시발: that makes so much sense actually.
형: hyeongjun! it’s nice to meet you!
형: sorry about them ^
형: we’re having a practice on saturday in room 1206 if you can make it! thanks so much in advance, i really appreciate you doing this.
주연은 주연 sent an image
오!시발: EWWJEKNWJJNNFCJSKJ
정말 정수: WHY ARE YOU SO CLOSE TOT HE CAMERAA
오!시발: LITERAL JUMPSCARE
주연은 주연: idk what u guys are talking about :) i look like a little angel :)
갉아먹는 지석: as his best friend i’m contractually obligated to agree that he does look like a little angel
주연은 주연: see :)
형: it’s not always like this. they’re really quite talented.
갉아먹는 지석: correction: it wasn’t* like this until me and jooyeonie joined
hyeongjun silences his phone and goes to bed.
𝄽𝄽𝄽
it’s been a while since hyeongjun has genuinely dreaded something. he lays awake in bed on friday night, having watched taehyun practice backhanding the jack of clubs about seventy times, thinking back on previous anxiety-inducing events. college entrance exams… getting an mri when he got hit by a car… getting hit by that car… first days of terms… he sighs and rolls over, facing the corner where his guitar is propped up. the thing is, none of those things involved playing. he’s really only played for his family, in front of music store employees when he was picking the solid-body he has now, and jungsu, briefly, a month ago. what if they don’t think he’s good enough? this gunil guy is a senior, and clearly familiar with some of the same music hyeongjun is… not to mention the… vibe that he’d sampled through the groupchat.
he’s never done well with outgoing or friendly people. they think he’s ignoring them, or hates them, or that he’s fun to pick on. he remembers middle school and the beginning of high school; “what are you staring at, freak?” he stopped looking. “why won’t you look me in the eye?” he gave up. more popular kids whispering snob whenever he passed, poking and shoving at him. he’s always been kind of sensitive, kind of different. he doesn’t even blame it completely on the autism, a diagnosis that was given to his parents at age ten and filed away to be vaguely referenced and talked around. basically he wasn’t crying on the floor so they thought he was normal enough to. well, be normal. but he wasn’t. he was just to the left of normal. he took the wrong exit and ended up in mildly-off-putting-ville. it was just enough to draw the wrong kind of attention. they thought it was hilarious to watch him eat only the sweet cucumbers and plain noodles at lunch everyday because he didn’t like anything else. they thought it was funny that he shook and shivered sometimes, that he grew his bangs out long so no one could see where he was looking, that he never smiled nor frowned, that he did anything, was anything. sure, the autism made him sensitive, quiet, but plenty of kids are. he’s seen videos of other autistic people laughing and talking and having friends; doing things that he, for some reason, could never do. there’s something else wrong with him, he’s sure of it, and it wasn’t the other kids’ fault they could smell it on him.
“why do you think you’re so much better than us?”
“i don’t.”
“is it because you play a stupid instrument? you’re never gonna get famous with that face. don’t you know idols are supposed to be likable?”
“i don’t want to be an idol.”
“good. because if you ever debuted we’d post all over about how arrogant you are. #hanhyeongjunbadpersonality would trend.”
it was nothing really horrific or anything. he’d seen other kids get it worse. and by his last couple years of high school, his growth spurt and success at getting into an actual good school combined forces to afford him some modicum of status, enough to be left alone. which is what he likes. which is why he’s dreading tomorrow. will they smell it on him, too, the wrongness? he’s just getting the feeling that whatever’s coming for him, it’s not peaceful solitude.
𝄽𝄽𝄽
he can hear them through the closed door. he’s standing outside room 1206 carrying his guitar case and amp, and he can hear them through the door. the door to one of the many soundproofed rooms in the music building. that means they’re loud. like, beyond loud. it’s not just their instruments; hyeongjun also hears talking, laughing, oooing and swearing. sounds filed into hyeongjun’s for other people folder. still, he takes a breath, thinks, no big deal, and opens the door.
five heads turn to look. adrenaline pumps through him, fight flight or freeze, and he really does almost run. it’s a near thing, extremely near. his legs jolt in place, knees doing something that makes a small popping sound at the aborted motion. but he just swallows, sets down his amp, and says, “hi.”
jungsu, heaven-sent, jogs up and starts introductions. “this is hyeongjun, guys. hyeongjun, that’s gunil, jiseok, seungmin, and jooyeon on bass.”
hyeongjun glances at each of them in turn, bobbing up-and-down in four separate bows. he mostly keeps his eyes to their shoulders, observing their faces in his periphery; gunil seems solid behind a massive drumkit, an easy sort of smile with a certain alertness—like he’s ready to pickup in the middle of a song on a dime. jiseok seems extremely sharp, colorful, hands relaxed on his guitar, corner of his pick sticking out of his mouth, wide eyes—look away; seungmin is lean and laughing, bird-like, intelligent tilt to his head, and then something trips hyeongjun up. it’s the last one—jooyeon, oh god, jooyeon, from the chat; hyeongjun hadn’t really looked at the selfie, he just saw—dark hair, a shock of blonde, a smile, his eyes skipping over the image to read the messages coming in lightning fast—he hadn’t realized. the thing that’s catching his attention now is that same dark hair, hanging long at jooyeon’s shoulders, and that’s really longer than hair should maybe be? longer than he was expecting. and that makes his eyes skip up to—oh god, mistake, look away, but he can’t, he can’t; shock of blonde, smile, that smile, it’s all in combination now, eyes nose mouth, long hair, torn up t-shirt, hand propped on a sleek black and white bass, it’s all there, all jooyeon, apparently. he’s attractive, hyeongjun knows immediately, as if on instinct. better looking than basically anyone else he’s ever seen, even with his eyes skating around and over most people’s faces.
he swallows and says, “hi,” again, awkwardly, and it’s been five seconds, he’s telling himself, look away, look away, but he can’t, he’s stuck. back to being five years old and looking and looking, nothing sating his rapacious eyes.
“thanks again for doing this,” gunil says, effectively saving hyeongjun’s life and allowing him to wrench his gaze away from—jooyeon. lee jooyeon, his mind supplies, yellow kakao message declaring it with, count them, seven exclamation points.
“no problem,” he responds, turning his attention to setting up. he looks for an empty spot and jiseok moves a little to the side, gesturing behind himself.
“you can use the same outlet, hyeongjun-ssi.” hyeongjun thanks his lucky stars that that’s basically opposite from jooyeon and scurries up.
“what would you guys like me to play?” a low whistle comes from jooyeon’s direction, but it’s seungmin, hyeongjun confirms with a glance.
“seriously, the flex,” jiseok remarks, looking amused.
hyeongjun blinks in confusion. “no, i didn’t mean—”
“told you guys,” jungsu interrupts, “he’s seriously so talented, you can give him anything and he’ll shred.”
“that’s—” hyeongjun tries again, but gunil gives a thoughtful hum.
“'toxicity,' system of a down?” he says, ponderous, and hyeongjun’s fingers automatically go to the chords, amp crackling.
“studio or live?” he asks, and for some reason this triggers another ripple of impressed murmurs.
“goddamn,” gunil says, “you don’t even have to play at this point.”
hyeongjun just makes what he’s sure is a pained expression. “i thought… this was…”
gunil just chuckles, not unkindly, and says, “studio,” and, finally, hyeongjun can do something he’s good at. gunil starts the beat, but it’s the rhythm towards the end, right before the guitar solo; what they all want to see.
he thought it’d be more nerve-wracking, but he’s lulled by the familiar walls of the music room, the presence of other instruments, other musicians. it makes him feel like… safe. like they’ll get it. besides, he’s been spending so much energy and attention on not looking at jooyeon again that it’s good to just be able to focus on his hands and the fret. and that he does; it’s been a while since he’s played this particular song, but once he starts it all comes back, warm through his mind, through his arms, down to his fingertips. muscle memory, he thinks, and his muscles say that they remember.
once he’s done, he looks up to find that they’ve all moved significantly closer, save gunil who sits wide-eyed, face partially obscured by the cymbal he’s holding to quiet it. the silence stretches so long that even hyeongjun is uncomfortable, so he says, “so. yeah,” to indicate that he’s finished. in case they didn’t know.
finally, someone says, “dude!” so loudly that hyeongjun winces, turning to see jiseok gaping at him. “that was fucking insane!”
“for real,” seungmin adds, arms crossed; hyeongjun darts his eyes up to see a raised eyebrow. jungsu is radiating smugness, hyeongjun doesn’t even have to look. this all seems good.
“um, thanks. i really like that one.” he wants to look at jooyeon, but he also doesn’t. he skates his eyes along all their feet and sees jooyeon’s ratty converse just behind seungmin’s boots, still the farthest away.
“well good, because you’re gonna be doing it in a couple months for my class,” gunil says, with a smile that makes hyeongjun feel a little bit proud of himself.
jiseok whoops and jungsu comes over to clap hyeongjun on the back. “hell yes he is.”
a weight lifts off of hyeongjun’s chest for a moment, only to make way for a new, slightly heavier one. “cool. glad i can help.” he makes his face smile, but his stomach is already churning. he can’t help but imagine them, twenty students and a professor, not to mention the rest of the guys, smoke grey silhouettes looking, sneering.
“so, i’ll message you the list of songs, but we can start going over what we have so far.”
hyeongjun shakes off the anxiety and nods along as gunil starts explaining their loose setlist, what they have down and what they don’t. hyeongjun turns to his case to grab his pick; he doesn’t usually like it for playing more intense stuff, but having something to hold on to will help ground him. but, when he kneels down, it’s no where to be seen. he feels all along the seams, but comes up empty. he bites his lip, resigning himself to rubbing his thumb and forefinger together for the rest of the day until he gets back to his dorm, but when he stands up there’s a bright red triangle directly in his line of vision. he looks up instinctively, but it’s jooyeon, fuck; he forces his eyes back down and takes the pick carefully. “thanks.”
“no problem!” hyeongjun senses that smile being aimed at him again. luckily jooyeon scampers back to the other side of the room, and the rest of the hour proceeds without incident.
hyeongjun watches them play, inputs when he can, works with jiseok a little on splitting stuff up; jungsu was right, these songs really are a lot for one guitar. it’s all pretty rough, but gunil is clearly a very practiced drummer, and they really do all have their unique talents. hyeongjun doesn’t want to talk or think about the steady bassline running beneath the whole session. jooyeon is good, good enough to be lazy, even; hyeongjun’s cursory glances reveal him messing around on the fingering, corners of grins and jokes exchanged with seungmin when there’s a break in the music.
stuff like that would usually make hyeongjun feel a little cold—that outside-looking-in feeling he used to get in school. but jiseok keeps him locked in a conversation that doesn’t end, per se, rather occasionally lulls while they play and then takes up again where they left off. it’s not unpleasant. and jungsu keeps looking behind himself to check on hyeongjun, giving thumbs-ups. they’re… nice. hyeongjun guesses he probably had his expectations way too low; these are adults, after all, not the kids he went to high school with in gimhae. still, he leaves that day feeling… not terrible. he might even be able to stomach ramen tonight.
𝄽𝄽𝄽
a few days later, jooyeon is waiting for him outside room 1206. hyeongjun spots the converse, first, then a jacket with an iron-on patch on the shoulder that depicts a brussels sprout with a red X over it, then the hair.
“hyeongjun-ssi!” hyeongjun almost drops his amp, even though he’d been expecting the greeting. jooyeon’s voice is just so… bright.
“h-hey,” he says, readjusting his grip only for the metal to turn weightless in his hands; jooyeon lifts his amp easily into his own arms. hyeongjun grips the straps of his case, hands suddenly free. “oh, thanks.”
“no big deal! i wanted to catch you before practice since you left so fast last time,” jooyeon chirps, shaking his blonde streak out of his eyes.
hyeongjun feels his eyes go wide and immediately goes for the pick in his back pocket, holding out the cherry plastic. “here, sorry, you must want this back—”
“huh? oh, no, keep it! i just wanted to tell you how talented you are!”
hyeongjun blinks, slowly pocketing the pick again. “oh… okay.” ugh, that probably makes it sound like he knows how talented he is—which, he does, but that’s not what he meant.
“i mean, seriously, that was crazy! i’m sure jiseokie already picked your brain, but i’m dying to know; when did you start playing? did you have an awesome instructor? what are your favorite bands? oh, and by the way, could you help me with one of the songs after practice? please?”
“oh, um,” hyeongjun feels his ears burning; he can’t remember the last time someone had asked for his opinion, much less details about his life and music. it sends something thrilling and scary through his chest, jooyeon’s focus, genuine curiosity aimed right at him, point blank with no filter. “maybe, um, after? i mean, yes, i can definitely help you, but maybe we should get in there, i don’t wanna keep them waiting.”
jooyeon nods seriously, “you’re right, i bet gunil-hyung is tsk-tsking at me right now.” he supports hyeongjun’s amp with one arm while he pulls the door open with the other, tilting his chin down for an overblown impression of gunil: “did jooyeonie leave? even when he’s on time he’s late.” hyeongjun follows jooyeon in, pinching his hot ears.
gunil evidently catches the tail-end of jooyeon’s impression, because he raises an eyebrow and asks, “what was that, jooyeon-ah?”
“nothing!” jooyeon says, flouncing over to set hyeongjun’s amp down by jiseok and then moving to take his bass off its stand. he winks at hyeongjun as he plays a goofy little riff. hyeongjun swallows and forces his eyes back down, realizing he’d been staring again. he’s got to get a handle on that.
gunil counts them in, having put the songs they would practice today in the group chat last night, and hyeongjun breathes deeply, shoulders relaxing as he plays.
practice goes way too fast, even with all of jiseok’s questions about fingering and picks and technique, and before he knows it, hyeongjun is trying not to look at jooyeon standing eagerly in front of him while everyone else packs up.
“you guys staying?” jungsu inquires, moving out of the way for jiseok and his case.
“mm-hm!” jooyeon chirrups, rocking back and forth on his heels, hands clasped in front of him like a renaissance cupid. “hyeongjun-ssi is going to help me with one of the songs!”
hyeongjun almost hopes jungsu or any of them will say something like, oh, me too, i wanted to run through pink floyd again, but jungsu just says, “cool,” and catches up to gunil in the hall as the door swings shut.
hyeongjun coughs a little to fill the sudden quiet, silently running through the chord progression on one of his original pieces. “you can—i mean, i’m okay if you wanna speak casually. we’re the same age, right?” he glances up to see jooyeon’s wide, sparkling eyes.
“right!! it’s you, me, and jiseok and seungmin, year of the horse! when’s your birthday?”
hyeongjun turns his pick over in his hand. “august eighteenth.”
jooyeon gasps and claps his hands once, “mine’s september twelfth! that’s less than a month, that means we’re the closest!”
“i guess so.”
“i mean, if being less than a year apart makes us friends, doesn’t being less than a month apart make us best friends?!”
hyeongjun swallows, unsure if jooyeon’s being completely serious or not, no idea how to respond. he’s had friends, other students in his high school music club, neighborhood kids growing up, but no one has ever said the words best friend to him. maybe he has had one and didn’t know it, but still, the way jooyeon says it—like a proclamation, nailed to the door of 1206: han hyeongjun and lee jooyeon are less than a month apart, which makes them best friends!
“okay,” he says, daring a look and seeing nothing more nefarious than a smile on jooyeon’s face. “which song was giving you trouble?”
jooyeon’s expression immediately drops into a pout as makes his meandering way back to his bass. “‘come as you are.’ stupid nirvana. i mean—! not that they’re stupid! i love that song! but it’s hard and it’s just bass at the beginning so i have to sound good.” he lifts his bass over his head, shaking his hair to get the strap to slide onto his shoulder. it really makes him look taller than he is, being slung so low, but hyeongjun had observed earlier that he has maybe an inch on jooyeon.
“well, go ahead and try it and we’ll see. i’ve only played bass a few times, but maybe there’s a simple solution.” jooyeon seems skeptical as he finds the right position; the first measure comes out decently, but he quickly fumbles, frowning down as he tries to make the quick jumps between notes. hyeongjun lets him go on a bit longer, until jooyeon lets out a groan and does a messy slide to finish.
“i think you’re too tense,” hyeongjun says, frowning at jooyeon’s right hand, now resting on the body.
jooyeon raises an eyebrow. “there’s no way; gunil-hyung and seungminnie are always telling me i’m too relaxed, and to pay more attention.”
hyeongjun stifles a laugh—it’s kind of true—but just shakes his head. “not your body, your hand. here,” he moves closer, instinctively reaching for jooyeon’s hand before he remembers himself and snatches his arm back. “oh—sorry, let me get my own.” he grabs his guitar so he can show jooyeon, who blinks owlishly at him. hyeongjun swallows and spreads his own right hand, tapping along the strings. “so, at least when i’m playing, i want my left arm to be more mobile than my hand, because it’s just diagonal movement, right?” he copies jooyeon’s slide for demonstration. “while my right arm stays pretty rigid, to keep my hand in the right area for plucking, but the actual hand itself should be relaxed, for mobility.” he does a quick riff, the one he was thinking about earlier from his own project.
he looks up to see a frown. oh god, that probably didn’t make any sense whatsoever. jooyeon will probably try to be polite and pretend like he understands, and just ask jiseok or gunil for help later.
“what’s that from?”
hyeongjun blinks. “what?”
jooyeon gestures to his guitar. “that riff! that was so catchy, but i don’t recognize it from our setlist, what song is it?”
“oh,” hyeongjun says, “it’s just—something i’ve been working on. it’s been stuck in my head all day.”
jooyeon is gaping. hyeongjun isn’t sure what to do. “hyeongjun-ssi! i mean,” he shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut, “hyeongjun! you write your own music?! that’s amazing! i totally suck at it, my music 100 teacher practically gave up on me after a month, but that! can i hear more? are you planning on releasing stuff? i think jiseok raps on soundcloud, so maybe you could ask him! oh my gosh, you’re gonna ace your upper divisions, professors love self-written stuff! i don’t know why, but mine are never impressed with my 5sos covers,” he finishes, frowning. hyeongjun tries to remember each question and decide which one to start with; it’s like earlier in the hall over again.
“um, well, it isn’t finished,” he settles on, sounding lame even to himself. “a-and i’m sure your covers are amazing, i’ve never heard of, um, ‘oh-sauce,’ but i bet your professors are just uptight,” he adds, trying to save it.
jooyeon is looking at him, like—well, hyeongjun can’t really tell what emotion it is; his mouth is all wobbly and his eyes are all sparkly (but when are they not?), and his voice is all squeaky when he says, “hyeongjun,” like he’s going to cry. oh god, what has he done now?
jooyeon takes a halting step forward and says again, “hyeongjun.”
“yes?” hyeongjun nervously grips the neck of his guitar.
another step, and jooyeon is suddenly clutching hyeongjun’s elbows, hands warm even through his shirt. finally, he looks up and says, “that was so cute! and you’re so nice,” he says, emphatic, “and it’s not oh-sauce, it’s an acronym for five-seconds-of-summer, they’re an australian pop rock band and i love them! and thank you for saying that about my covers, i try really hard!” he takes his hands back and takes a deep breath. “sorry, i just had to tell you that. okay, explain again about the hand-arm thingy!”
hyeongjun is completely short-circuiting, mind a rollercoaster-blur of jooyeon/nirvana/cute/oh-sauce/cute/nice/jooyeon/hair/smile/cute. he just says, “okay,” and shows him again. jooyeon watches intently, and tries the song again, but still struggles.
he sighs after a few minutes, “it’s no use, you’ll have to show me up close.” he takes off his bass and offers it, head hanging dejectedly. “you have to do the fingering so i can put my hand on yours and figure it out. it’s the only way i could learn anything at first.”
hyeongjun feels his ears go hot at the suggestion. “i-i’m flattered, but i’m not even sure i can do it without some practice. i’m not a bassist.”
jooyeon rolls his eyes, though hyeongjun senses it’s not in a mean way. “of course you can do it, you’re a genius! and i don’t mind waiting!”
hyeongjun reluctantly sets his guitar back down, gingerly taking the black-and-white bass from jooyeon. it’s huge, immediately sort of cumbersome and unwieldy in a way that guitars aren’t, but after a moment of running his fingers over it hyeongjun starts to get his sea legs. he just goes up and down the fret at first, then attempts the nirvana bassline. it takes three times before he gets it, and when he looks up, jooyeon has a smug, told-you-so look on his face.
hyeongjun rubs an ear on his shoulder, hoping they’re not as bright-red as they feel. “okay, i think i got it.”
“uh-huh,” jooyeon says, eyebrows wiggling around on his browbone, like, you think? he shuffles up to hyeongjun’s side, hand coming down to cover his. warm, again; he must run hot. hyeongjun clears his throat and slowly does the bassline twice, emphasizing the faster transitions so jooyeon will be able to feel it.
“again?” jooyeon asks, breath ghosting over hyeongjun’s neck. he suppresses a shiver and does it again. “okay, okay, let me try while it’s in my brain!” he says, holding out his hand, marching in place while his eyes are squeezed shut, like he’s literally holding the rhythm in his head. hyeongjun hurries to return the instrument, and jooyeon, eyes still shut, takes a breath. then he plays the opening of ‘come as you are’ perfectly.
hyeongjun can’t help the smile that lifts his mouth. he knew he could do it. “see?” he says, “you have it, it was just your hand.”
jooyeon blinks his eyes open, finding hyeongjun and looking at him in wonder. “you’re such a good teacher,” he says.
hyeongjun rubs the back of his neck. “ah, i guess. you told me how to help you, so it was easier.”
“right,” jooyeon grins, doing another measure of the song and hopping back over to his usual spot. “by the way, i know you said it’s not finished, but if you ever need another pair of ears, mine are totally available. oh! that reminds me,” he says, kneeling down to go through his bag, coming up with a pen after a moment. he uncaps it with his teeth and holds it up triumphantly. “‘one nuh-er!”
“huh?” hyeongjun says.
jooyeon waves him over, wobbling from where he’s balancing on his knees, hair moving back and forth over his shoulders. hyeongjun walks over tentatively. jooyeon holds out his hand, and when hyeongjun just stares at it blankly, makes a noise like, “huh!” and grabs hyeongjun’s wrist, pressing his pen to the palm.
“oh!” hyeongjun squeaks, but stays still as jooyeon carefully inks nine numbers over his fate line.
finally jooyeon spits out the cap and says, “phone number!! in case you don’t like kakao.” he recaps the pen and throws it back into his bag.
“oh! thanks,” hyeongjun murmurs, examining the ballpoint tattoo.
“see you on saturday again?” jooyeon asks, expectant, as he lays his bass down in its case.
hyeongjun closes his hand and rubs his thumb over his knuckles, still feeling the itch of the ink. “of course.”
𝄽𝄽𝄽
the next month continues like that, jooyeon meeting him without fail outside of 1206, usually to interrogate him about music (“polyphia’s good and everything, but the sounds good feels good album is all time. like, all time, hyeongjun.” “uh-huh.”) or interrogate him about guitar (“i can’t believe you didn’t get an amp until you were fifteen.” “i had to wear earplugs the first week i had it.”) or just to smile and ask, “how was your week hyeongjun-ah?”
hyeongjun’s been getting better at answering that one. the first couple of times he’d said some variation of “fine,” to which jooyeon had nodded, wide-eyed, waiting on something more. now he tries to note when anything out of the ordinary happens, like taehyun dropping a deck of cards in his jjajangmyeon, or one of his professors accidentally showing pictures of her cats on the projector instead of the lesson. though they’re useless and mundane anecdotes to hyeongjun, they entertain jooyeon to no end, making his eyes light up with interest—that raw, scorching attention that hyeongjun is just learning how to handle: carefully, with gloves, but without fear.
jooyeon starts grabbing food with him after practice, too, and by hyeongjun’s metrics this means they’re definitely friends, but by jooyeon’s metrics they might be joined at the hip by now. but hyeongjun doesn’t want to assume.
it’s on one such day in the dining hall when hyeongjun is determinedly looking at the scuffed linoleum while they wait their turn that jooyeon says, “why do you always do that?”
hyeongjun blinks, outlines the edges of jooyeon’s form with his eyes to determine an inquisitive quirk to his head before returning to the linoleum. “do what?”
“look down,” jooyeon says, bending his neck to try and catch hyeongjun’s eye. hyeongjun cheats and looks at the smudge of red hair dye on jooyeon’s forehead instead; he’d dyed the blonde streak last week. (“do you think it makes me look… cooler?” eyebrow waggle. “sure. it’s all like… fuck the system. you know.” “please say that again, i need to record it.”)
“um, i used to—well, i would, like, stare at people. not on purpose, just—um, yeah.” hyeongjun squints against some unpleasant memories of being scolded in the supermarket.
“oh. what’s the problem with that?”
hyeongjun glances down to check for sarcasm—as usual, jooyeon’s genuine. he tries to chase eye contact with hyeongjun again, but luckily it’s their turn to select a boxed salad or sandwich. hyeongjun goes for the sandwich. “um… people don’t like it when you stare at them?”
jooyeon follows suit, flashing the salads a nasty look. “oh. well i wouldn’t mind.”
hyeongjun huffs a laugh, looking down again as they step away from the counter. “you probably would after a while.”
“no—look,” jooyeon puts his fingertips under hyeongjun’s jaw, forcing their eyes to meet. it hurts in a good way. jooyeon grins. “see? i like when you look at me.”
hyeongjun feels his cheeks go hot; he hadn’t realized how close they’d been standing. how close they always stand. “why?”
jooyeon’s eyes move to the side, thinking, and his fingertips tap lightly under hyeongjun’s chin. “mmm… i don’t know! i like it when people look at me, especially when i’m playing. it’s like…” he finally moves his hand and makes a hadouken gesture. “all this energy! i feel so special—like not that i’m being looked at because i’m special, but i’m special because i’m being looked at? if that makes sense?”
“uh-huh,” hyeongjun says, even though it doesn’t, really.
“but i like when you look at me because you only really look at really important things, so i want to be an important thing.” hyeongjun realizes he’s still looking at jooyeon directly, and as a consequence of that he’s privy to the flurry of pink that spreads across his face, his eyes widening slightly. “or maybe i’m just pathologically annoying. anyway, we should sit over there!”
he hurries over to an empty table, leaving hyeongjun frozen like a piece of metalwork dunked too soon.
“sure,” he says belatedly, nearly tripping over his own feet to follow.
𝄽𝄽𝄽
hyeongjun doesn’t actually text the number jooyeon provided via his hand until he’s on his ninth listen of his completed track without hearing something he wants to change. he navigates to the contact (saved only after documenting the number on his palm via picture taken before he got in the shower that day), attaches the audio file, and hits send before he can overthink it.
한형준: audio file attached
한형준: i finished it.
한형준: this is hyeongjun by the way.
한형준: from band practice.
he’s determined to go straight to sleep after that and not look at his phone until morning, but the response is so immediate that he doesn’t even have time to close the messaging app.
이주연: OH MY GOD ??????!!!! LISTENING RIGHT NOW.
이주연: WAIT LEMME GET MY GOOD HEADPHONES
hyeongjun bites his lip, now stuck in the text-back purgatory he usually tries to avoid. he waits the exact duration of his track before locking his phone and setting it next to him. he might as well be looking at it, though, because he sits in frozen silence until it vibrates again.
이주연: SORRY I LISTENED TWICE
이주연: OH MY GOD HYEONGJUN
이주연: IT’S SO. GOOD.
이주연: LIKE.
the typing bubble pops up and down a few times then, so hyeongjun just replies,
한형준: you like it?
이주연: no.
한형준: oh.
이주연: I FUCKING LOVE IT.
이주연: OHYGMOD NO IM SORRY I WAS JOKING.
이주연: YES I LIKE IT I WANT TO LIKE. DRINK IT. LIKE SLAM IT LIKE A SHOT.
한형준: we’re underage…
이주연: THAT’S BESIDE THE POINT.
이주연: seriously hyeongjun-ah it’s sooooooo good. like you’re so incredibly talented it blows my mind.
이주연: you have to release it. you have to PERFORM it. omg we should ask gunil-hyung if we can include it in the set!!
한형준: it’s a guitar focused piece…
이주연: so?????????
한형준: the set is for gunil’s drumming final…
이주연: oh yeah i forgot hahahahahah
한형준: lol
이주연 took a screenshot
이주연: sorry i love it when u lol
한형준: lol
이주연: hdsdjkncfnsjkdf
이주연 took a screenshot
이주연: ladies and gents we’ve got a comedian on our hands!
이주연: ANYWAYYY. maybe you could do it for a summer rock fest!
이주연: tbh we should take the whole group like. we’re so good actually. we could win some ₩₩₩
한형준: maybe
이주연: u don’t seem enthused :((
한형준: idk.
이주연: tell me!!
한형준: do u ever get like. nervous. about performing?
이주연: not really! do u?
한형준: yeah. i’m worried about the final performance
이주연: wait but u play in front of me and the others every week?
한형준: it’s different. u guys are musicians.
이주연: so is everyone in gunil-hyung’s class!
한형준: that’s true.
한형준: i guess i meant like
한형준: you guys are my friends
이주연: 🥺🥺
한형준: oh no
이주연: HYEONGJUN-AHHHHHHH
이주연: we ARE your friends!!!!!!!!!
이주연: and we think you’re so talented. and we know you can do this!!!
이주연: plus i bet as soon as you see all the normos in gunil-hyung’s class you’ll totally relax
이주연: no big deal!
한형준: maybe
한형준: thank you jooyeon-ah
이주연: <3
𝄽𝄽𝄽
despite jooyeon’s words, all of a sudden it’s the eighth week of practice and hyeongjun is feeling the nerves sink in and gunil-hyung is saying, “i think we’ve really got it, backward and forward,” and attempting to give some sort of drawn-out speech thanking them for all their hard work, only to be met with boos from jiseok and seungmin and requests to wrap it up.
“alright, alright,” gunil says, “i’ll save it for the actual day.”
a chorus of groans accompany the sounds of disassembling equipment, and hyeongjun feels the corner of his mouth tick up at their antics. jooyeon, just a few feet away now that he’s switched positions with seungmin (for symmetry), catches hyeongjun’s eye, something that’s been happening a lot more often lately. he smiles broadly and gives a thumbs-up. hyeongjun feels his mouth go sort of sideways but gives a thumbs-up back.
he spends the intervening days practicing, studying, and practicing some more. the problem with music being his outlet is that when he’s stressed about music, he can’t really get anything done. he plays until his fingers ache one day and shoves his case in the closet the next, and both leave him feeling half-empty, zombified and malfunctioning. he’s worried; he can’t stop himself from worrying. what if he can’t do it? what if he walks in and immediately throws up? what if he can’t even make it to the door? what if he lets them down, completely, undeniably, unforgivably? he has visions of the paper that only exists in his head declaring his and jooyeon’s best-friendship fluttering to the ground, crumpled up and thrown in the trash. he has nightmares about the door to 1206 being locked, hearing laughing and music from inside, but being unable to open it no matter how he tries.
taehyun has learned how to reproduce the card that hyeongjun picks from the bottom of the deck, which is sort of impressive and mildly entertaining, so that provides a short-lived distraction. he sends his finished song to his mom, who says, Is it supposed to be so loud? but mostly he just curls up in bed, the red pick jooyeon gave him on his first day of practice clutched in his hand, trying to become brave.
𝄽𝄽𝄽
the day of the performance, they agree to meet up in 1206 beforehand for any tuning and last-minute adjustments and warm-ups that need to take place, then there’ll be a half-hour of gunil’s class that they’re not invited to, during which other students will present their final performances, and then they’re on.
before he leaves his dorm, hyeongjun is surprised by the completely random act of kindness that is taehyun offering him a bottle of sparkling water.
“i noticed you were out, and i know it helps your stomach. plus i know it’s a big day!”
hyeongjun blinks. “how did you know that?”
taehyun just looks over at their shared calendar, on which today’s date is frantically circled in red marker a number of times. right. “thank you,” hyeongjun says, still a little bewildered, turning toward the door with his case in tow.
“no big deal!” taehyun calls as hyeongjun shuts the door behind himself.
hyeongjun gets to the practice room first, sits in a chair like a piece of petrified wood until the rest arrive. jiseok claps him on the shoulder on the way in, seungmin is already holding his open laptop in one hand, evidently organizing his synth stuff, gunil is spinning a drumstick in hand, talking with jungsu, and jooyeon beams and immediately sits next to him.
“how are you? nervous? i mean—you’re not supposed to say that to nervous people, are you; here—are you relaxed? calm? tranquil?”
this eeks a tiny laugh out of hyeongjun as he releases his death grip on the straps of his case. “i’m… here.”
jooyeon winces in hyeongjun’s periphery. “that… is a good thing! let’s warm up!”
through gentle coaxing, hyeongjun gets his guitar plugged in, checks his pedals, does some stiff strumming, up and down the fret. jiseok asks him a clarifying question, which is a welcome distraction from his own nerves, and they run through a song together, even, but then practice time is over and gunil is trying to give his gratitude speech while seungmin and jungsu push him out the door (ostensibly so that he’s not late to class).
jooyeon helps him pack up, and then they’re the last two, the rest having gone to wander around and/or try to listen in on the other performances and secretly trash them.
“hey, look at me,” jooyeon says, and hyeongjun does, noticing for the first time a line of black smudged under each eye. “you got this.”
“thanks. are you wearing eyeliner?”
jooyeon immediately goes pink and does a spin so he can peer demurely over his own shoulder. “yes. a little. just for effect. do i look rock ‘n’ roll?”
“definitely,” hyeongjun says, fully taking in jooyeon’s black boots, black jeans, red shirt with purposeful slashes in the sleeves. “you look amazing.”
jooyeon squeaks a laugh and says, “thank you!” before his eyes go wide. “hyeongjun-ah!”
hyeongjun grimaces, barometric pressure of jooyeon's mood indicating an incoming flurry. “what.”
“you should wear eyeliner!”
“oh. maybe one day?”
“no!” jooyeon shakes his head, “right now!”
“i… don’t have any?”
jooyeon grabs his hand and starts pulling him toward the door. “i have mine in my dorm! come on!”
hyeongjun glances at the clock and makes a doubtful noise. jooyeon follows his gaze. “oh, we won’t be late! my building’s really close to gunil-hyung’s class!”
hyeongjun slowly relents and allows himself to be dragged into the hall. “if you say so.”
“i say so!” jooyeon says. he doesn’t let go of hyeongjun’s hand, making them both jog a little, through the music building, out the doors, across the campus green, until they’re standing in front of one of the big square dorms, both panting.
“sorry,” hyeongjun says, “out of shape.”
“band nerd,” jooyeon teases, just as exhausted. “it’s okay, i’m on the first floor.”
he lets them in with his student id, and leaves hyeongjun in the doorway to his room while he picks up a small basket on the floor by a propped-up mirror and rummages through it. it seems to be a collection of tangled hair ties, necklaces, lip balms, picks, and—jooyeon finally pulls it from the depths—a single stick of pencil eyeliner.
“come here!” he says, waving hyeongjun over to sit facing him on the floor. hyeongjun crosses his legs and sits about a foot away, only for jooyeon to frown and scoot forward until their knees touch. hyeongjun swallows, and looks around the room for a distraction. he spots a poster on the opposite wall, hand-drawn, that says, NUGGET TIME!!!
“you room with jiseok?” he asks, surprised.
“yup,” jooyeon says, bringing a hand up to hold hyeongjun’s face, thumb tugging down his bottom eyelid.
“how did i not know that?”
jooyeon shrugs, pencil running over hyeongjun’s waterline. he’s gentle; it feels like nothing. “i don’t know. i don’t know who your roommate is.”
“he’s a magician.”
jooyeon giggles, hand paused on hyeongjun’s face. “stop, i need to focus.”
“i’m serious,” hyeongjun replies, still looking at the nugget time poster. “there was a dove in our room for like, two weeks.”
jooyeon blows out his held breath, descending into a fit of laughter, hand dropping to hyeongjun’s shoulder. “god, you’re like the funniest person in the world, i love you.”
there’s a moment where everything is still. hyeongjun focuses on him, only to find jooyeon’s the one looking away this time. “i love you too,” he says. maybe that’s crazy, or weird, but it’s true. jooyeon’s his best friend. he loves him.
jooyeon just says, “well good,” and moves onto the other eye. hyeongjun lets him do it in silence, looking around at luke hemmings and paul simon and the smiths. hendrix and the beatles, on jiseok’s side. jooyeon’s fingertips are little drops of warm candle wax on his face. they always end up talking about how they’re different, he and jooyeon, but really, hyeongjun suspects they’re more alike than not.
“there,” jooyeon says softly, hands drawing back towards himself. “all done.”
hyeongjun blinks, rolling his eyes around, and turns to look in the mirror next to them. it’s… strange. in a good way. different. something he hadn’t been creative enough to imagine for himself. but jooyeon had.
he turns back to tell him he loves it, but when he does, jooyeon’s lips are on his. he sucks in a breath, unprepared, eyes still open to see jooyeon’s squeezed shut, like when he’s really focusing on playing. hyeongjun closes his eyes, too, only for jooyeon to pull away.
he covers his mouth as if in horror, looking anywhere but hyeongjun, “sorry—i’m sorry, i was just, you looked so—and i’ve liked you for so long and i’m worried you’ll stop talking to me after this performance since we won’t have practice anymore, and i didn’t know how to tell you and you’re such a good friend and i don’t wanna ruin it but—god. yeah. sorry. you don’t have to! like! say anything! or anything! we can just—”
“jooyeon-ah,” hyeongjun interrupts, “jooyeon.”
finally, jooyeon meets his eyes, like so many times in these past weeks. hyeongjun doesn’t think he’s looked at someone so much in a long time. he’s someone who’s easy to look at. he presents himself whole, uninterrupted, continuous, steady. bassline.
“jooyeon,” he says again, a chorus stuck in his head, an echo of a desire, unarticulated. he kisses him again. there’s really nothing else to do.
jooyeon kisses him back, hands on his shoulders, knees knocking into each other. “thank god,” he says, between. hyeongjun, for the first time, threads his fingers through that hair; it's thick and soft like a precious metal. neither of them are particularly graceful, but it's like when they're on the last chorus of a song, way too into it to look cool (even though jooyeon always does anyway); hyeongjun feels that same thrill come back, nudging dangerously at his heart. then, with a gasp, jooyeon pulls away again. “shit! we’re gonna be late!”
it takes a second for hyeongjun’s brain to get back online, but once it does, he agrees, “shit!”
they scramble up, grab their cases, jooyeon throwing the eyeliner back in the basket in exchange for a pick chosen at random, and then they’re out the door, full-on running this time, weakling bodies trained for music and nothing else be damned.
“shit!” jooyeon says again, wind whipping through his hair, ribbon of red flashing through, panting, grinning uncontrollably.
“fuck!” hyeongjun contributes, ripped away by the wind immediately. jooyeon’s laugh echoes around the campus. “together on four,” he says, like they’re practicing a tricky bridge.
“FUCK!” they yell, complete unison, breaking down into giddy, hiccuping, hyena-like laughter as their feet pound the pavement. then jooyeon reaches out a hand to no one, turning so fast he almost falls, hyeongjun follows, and they’re standing outside one of the samey class buildings, music just barely audible through the door, breathless.
seungmin, having watched all of this transpire with raised eyebrows and his phone held limp and forgotten in his hand, says, “jesus.”
jungsu and jiseok, also there, watch with mild confusion and horror. “what the fuck,” jiseok says.
jooyeon holds up a hand, pulling his phone from his back pocket. “we’re early?!” he exclaims, voice a wreck from running.
“like, so early,” jungsu confirms.
“oh my god,” jooyeon says, collapsing to the ground, case keeping him sitting upright. hyeongjun follows suit, lungs still burning. “we thought we were late.”
“well you’re not,” jungsu informs them again. “i guess, you might’ve been, but gunil-hyung texted us that one of the others is running long, so we still have some time.”
and maybe if they really had been late, had to immediately set up and start playing, hyeongjun would be okay, high on adrenaline and jooyeon, but as it is, the longer they sit, catching their breath, listening to the pound of drumming through the door, the more he feels the anxiety from earlier in the day return, slowly, creeping in at the edges. jooyeon keeps grinning at him, and he smiles back, but he keeps thinking about it, stomach churning, imagining all the seniors in there, looking at him.
time slips away from him a little bit, and all too fast, the door is opening, gunil-hyung waving them in. jooyeon helps him up, and doesn’t let go of his hand as they walk in behind the others. hyeongjun’s eyes are glued to the ground. maybe if he just, never looks. but he sees the orientation of the drumkit already set up—facing the room. there’s no way. he’ll definitely see them, seeing him. his mouth goes dry as he automatically starts unzipping his case, amps already in place; touching his guitar gives him just enough wherewithal to see jooyeon looking worriedly at him as he plugs in his bass.
he just shakes his head, stands up, tests his pedals. his hands are shaking as he lifts the strap over his head, settling it on his shoulder. he can’t even hold onto jooyeon’s pick for grounding; he won’t use it for most of these songs. seungmin’s still getting both his keyboards up, so hyeongjun thinks to himself, no big deal, and forces his eyes up.
it’s just a blur of faces, bodies, clothes; his eyes are wet. he blinks rapidly—the makeup, he can’t ruin jooyeon’s hard work.
when jungsu puts a hand on his shoulder, something breaks in him, and he shrugs off his guitar, abandoning it on the floor, and walks out. flight wins today; sunlight hits him disorientingly as the door swings shut behind him. he takes deep breaths through his mouth, stomach churning. he left the sparkling water taehyun gave him in 1206. maybe he’ll go back there, hide until it’s all over, until they finish without him and come back to tell him he’s not welcome anymore.
he’s about to just start walking when the door squeals open again. it’s jooyeon, hyeongjun doesn’t have to look.
“hey,” he says, spotting him, walking over, hair wild from the run and—before that—the kiss. “hyeongjun-ah.” he takes his hand, and hyeongjun winces as he pulls away. he doesn’t want to—touch is just too much right now. he hates when he gets like this, when light gets too bright and touch is terrible and even the sound of his guitar is too loud. he smooths down the hair at the nape of his neck, takes out the cherry pick and rubs it between thumb and forefinger, paces. it helps.
“tell me what’s going on,” jooyeon says in hyeongjun’s periphery, not demanding, just concerned.
“i can’t do it,” hyeongjun says shortly. that’s pretty much it.
“you can,” jooyeon argues. “we’re just helping gunil-hyung out, right? there’re no stakes for us, we just get to have fun!”
hyeongjun shoots him a look meant to communicate something about having fun. jooyeon puts his hands up in surrender.
“okay, i get it—”
“you don’t,” hyeongjun snaps, immediately regrets it. “sorry. i’m sorry, but it’s just—it’s different for me, okay? you don’t get it.”
“alright,” jooyeon’s voice is so sad. hyeongjun glances up to see his brows furrowed deeply. “then i wish i did.”
hyeongjun takes a breath, turns the pick around in his hand. “it’s just like… i know to you guys it’s, like, ‘no big deal!’ or whatever! but—it is. to me. it is.”
jooyeon’s still looking at him, hyeongjun allows himself two seconds of eye contact that feel like standing on the surface of the sun, looks away.
“okay,” jooyeon says. “it is.” hyeongjun gives a huff. “no—i’m serious, i’m trying to see from your perspective. you’re playing like twenty iconic rock songs as lead guitarist for a bunch of people, and you’ve never done that before. it’s a big deal!”
hyeongjun takes a shuddering breath. “thank you.”
“it’s a big deal,” jooyeon says again, “but you’re a big deal.”
hyeongjun can’t help the disbelieving scoff that comes out of him. he stops pacing, turns to face jooyeon. “what?”
“it’s true.” and in jooyeon’s eyes is nothing but truth. no mockery, no irony, only the pure light of a zealot who believes in his cause absolutely. “hyeongjun. you’re a nineteen year old who can do basically any rock guitar solo on demand.”
“that’s not—” hyeongjun tries, but jooyeon just keeps going.
“you go to one of the best music schools in the country. you’re basically self-taught. you write your own music. and you’re about to fucking shred so hard that you upstage the guy that’s actually getting graded.”
hyeongjun laughs, just a little. jooyeon's eyebrows tilt up in relief. he takes a step closer, careful. “can i?” his hand is hovering near hyeongjun’s shoulder. hyeongjun evaluates, turns the pick over again, nods. it’s like leaning on a stovetop, his palm.
“hyeongjun, listen. you’re a big deal. to me, to the other guys, and in twenty minutes to everyone else in that room. one day to the world.”
hyeongjun looks away, tries to shrug the words off, but jooyeon’s hand on his shoulder is demanding, insistent. hyeongjun’s world narrows to that point of contact, focus drawn to the touch like the next right chord. he allows himself to meet jooyeon’s eyes, again. lets himself burn.
jooyeon smiles, so easy. “one day, you’re going to be a fucking rock star.”
it’s so embarrassing, but hyeongjun almost starts crying on the spot. he hadn’t known how much he longed to hear those words until jooyeon said them. desire, articulated. it reverberates through him like an amp turned way too high. an echo that just keeps getting louder; rockstar, rockstar, Rockstar, ROCKSTAR, FUCKING ROCKSTAR!!!
his peaceful studio that smells of wood is blown to bits in his head. blasted out of the way by a stage, by lights, by cheers, by jooyeon, long hair even longer, wild with sweat, bass weightless in his hands. grinning something crazy.
he hadn’t thought to want something like that for himself. but jooyeon had. hyeongjun swallows around the lump in his throat. “you too,” he mutters.
jooyeon’s smile broadens, blinding, solar. he takes hyeongjun’s hand.
“then we’d better start practicing now.”