Chapter Text
It never got any easier to have the expectant eyes of his band staring directly at him, Euijoo mused. They were his friends, but above all else, he was their unofficial leader – even if he had no clue how he got the title to begin with. He himself looked to the eldest two for guidance, although they would only support or advise, ultimately following along with his decisions.
“This is something we all want to do, right?” Euijoo said slowly, looking around at the pairs of eyes. “If we’re really going to do this, then we can’t have a single one of us trying to half-ass this.”
“Yes!” Taki exclaimed, his eyes twinkling as he shook Kei next to him. Jo nodded his own agreement in tandem with the younger’s, his muted but determined expression giving his side. Fuma gave him a thumbs up from where he was spinning his drumsticks, wrapped with Pokemon patterned tape.
Euijoo felt something brimming inside of him as his eye caught on the poster again. It was hanging on the corkboard in the middle of the wall, usually used as a calendar for them. It was almost hopeful, swirling and begging to be named.
The band was their voice, their projection of their troubles and condemnations and all the things they couldn’t say by themselves. To get themselves further out there, to get an audience that would be big enough to make themselves heard was a thought near inconceivable.
It was reachable, with this.
“Then I guess the next step is the audition,” He felt his face split into a grin as the rest of them screamed in excitement, although some quieter than others.
“We’re going to be famous!” Taki yelled, swinging from where his arms were tossed around Kei’s neck. Jo was laughing, his own quiet excitement shining even through the noise. Fuma had thrown an arm around Euijoo’s shoulder, shaking him lightly.
“We’ve still got practice to do!” He called out, cupping his hands around his mouth and in doing so, dragging Euijoo closer to him.
He made a small oompf sound and allowed it, shoving the older playfully once everyone settled down and looked over.
“He’s right, we’ve got the Roses performance this week and if we’re going to do this battle thing, then we’ve got to practice even harder than before.”
Kei echoed Taki’s complaining noise but detached from his brother – and Jo, who’d been dragged into their hug – and plopped onto the lone chair in the room.
”Five, six, seven, eight!”
⟿⬲⬳
Euijoo balanced a notepad on his knee, the night settling in from their afternoon session. The youngest members had already left, Kei ushering them along through the dusk. Fuma was hanging around the exit, surely waiting for his boyfriend to return before leaving.
He was struck by mental fatigue himself, on the verge of a headache from attempting to force words to mesh on the page. A new song is something they needed, something that could carry them from where they were standing and prove that they could be more than their same beat.
At his core, he felt as though he should have known better. It was for the band, not some kind of assignment. When it came down to it, his songs couldn’t be forced out in the same way that they could for a class.
While he wasn’t the sole song writer – the band was for fears and worries and complaints and so everyone had written a lyric or two at some point – something about it felt personal, as though he was responsible for a new song that would make them stand out to the judges.
“EJ~” Fuma called his stage name playfully, and Euijoo wondered how he ever could have seen this man as scary. It brought him gently out of his cloudy thoughts, putting down the pencil and brushing off the eraser shavings from the paper.
He dragged his stool from the drums over to where Euijoo was holed up in the corner, abandoning his post by the door.
“Why aren’t you the leader?” He asked, for what felt like the hundredth time since they’d begun their journey with the band. Kei would have been another choice, but he insisted on the managerial position, providing back-up vocals with lots of pestering. Sometimes this question was asked playfully, others it was heavier.
Fuma smiled cryptically, just like he always did. “I think I’m good as a second in command. You’re doing fine, Euijoo.”
A hand reached for his hair and patted him gently. “I also think that you’re overthinking this new challenge a bit. We don’t need to do anything other than be ourselves – and if being ourselves means going with the songs that we already have, then that’s okay too.”
He almost laughed, the notepad falling shut as he did so. It was startling how well he could be read by some people sometimes. Instead, he nodded, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment.
“The puppies are in the den!” Kei’s voice announced cheerfully from the now open doorway. He bounced over and dragged Euijoo off the ground with one hand, pulling Fuma with the other. “We’ll walk you to your dorm.”
It was less of a suggestion and more of an order, the three of them walking along until they reached his building. Kei squished his face and demanded he go to bed at a reasonable time, but considering the assignments piling up in various corners of his room, he could only nod and give a vague agreement.
He shuffled into his room, kicking off his shoes at the doorway and collapsing onto his bed, other belongings shoved to the side. The next day would be Friday, and that would mean at least five assignments due and three hours of practice for the Saturday night gig.
It was amusing to think about when paired up with the image that Euijoo had on campus. Plenty of others saw him as a studious, picture perfect student with his clothes and round blue light glasses. Of course, his Gen Ed professors knew otherwise, having barely passed their classes by the skin of his teeth.
The band did little to dissuade their mind, as people oddly seemed to see Euijoo and EJ as two separate entities. His mind wandered to what they would think if they were to see him now, sitting in a messy room and procrastinating the living hell out of his schoolwork.
With a tired sigh, Euijoo hoisted himself upright and fished out his computer from his backpack, resigning himself to a long night ahead of him.
⟿⬲⬳
The excitement hadn’t gone away overnight, and their lunch chatter was louder than usual with audition butterflies.
“It’s not even close yet,” Taki complained. “And you’re not even in the band, why are you nervous?”
“He is so,” Euijoo cut into their conversation, always willing to pick a fight with their youngest. “He’s as much in here as you are, even as our manager.”
“This isn’t about you.” Taki shot back, poking the older one in the ribs. “And sometimes singing doesn’t count!”
“Uh,” Jo made an effort to get their attention, taking something out of his bag. The three of them were immersed in the debate now, talking about something completely unrelated.
“Ahem,” Fuma cleared his throat loudly. “Jo has something to share.”
“Shhh!” Kei shushed the rest of them, all four heads swiveling to look at Jo. His ears were visibly turning red, face half-hidden by the large sketchbook in his hands.
“Um.” He seemed to have lost his words as the attention was turned towards him, full force. “I thought we might want something different for our entrance.”
He flipped through the pages before holding up a reinvention of their band logo, colored pencil blending smoothly in with the bold marker lines.
“Oh my god!” Taki was the first to scream, jumping over to the table. Jo smiled once everyone erupted, allowing himself to be shaken back and forth by Kei next to him.
“It’s incredible, Jo,” Euijoo added, grinning at him. The boy was visibly pleased with the praise, ducking his head just slightly back into the hood of his sweater.
Kei made grabby hands for the sketchbook and Jo handed it over carefully, the eldest nodding to himself.
“If we’re going, they should be able to tell who’s in our band at one glance.” He said, snapping a quick picture. “How do we feel about matching for once?”
“Can we do patches and stuff?” Taki bounced in his seat. “We can put one on Jojo’s mask!”
“I’ll see what my friends can do,” Kei said, sending a message. “Told them we’re looking for an individual piece for everyone.”
“Who exactly are these friends?” Euijoo asked, leaning on his forearms. “Same ones who made the fan shirts?”
“Nah, different. I know a lot of people,” Kei shrugged, leaning back onto Fuma after handing the sketchbook back to Jo. “That’s why I’m the manager.”
“For Saturday, how many songs are we doing?” Euijoo switched the subject away from the auditions, hands folded in front of him. “Are we pushing buttons or are we just doing our set?”
“I think we should go a little further, it’s been awhile since we’ve been on stage.” Fuma said with a grin. “They won’t mind having an Orange Juice special, will they?”
“I think Gunwook is on shift this weekend,” Taki kicked out his legs a bit. “He’ll keep them from stopping us.”
Now that everything was out of the way, the conversation lulled and the five of them fell into a comfortable silence of eating. The time passed by quickly, the world moving with classes and individual practices and homework hours.
⟿⬲⬳
Saturday night rolled around with the five of them gathering their instruments and squeezing into Kei’s beat up sedan with their instruments in their laps, making the quick drive to the 999 Roses instead of on foot.
“You’re back, I see.” Hao said, the main manager watching them set up in the backstage room with a hand on his hip. “Congratulations.”
“We missed you, too,” Euijoo said dryly, an amiable grin on his face despite the tone. “We’re your favorites, really.”
“I hold grudges,” he sniffed, looking over his shoulder for the other acts. “You do bring in a lot of people, so I suppose I can’t be too upset.”
He snickered and waved as the older one left, Taki burrowing under his arm with a question in his eyes. “Are you ever going to tell us why he holds grudges?”
“Cause I asked Hanbin to write our name before the Nekos got there like three months ago,” Euijoo replied with amusement, ruffling the younger’s hair. “I didn’t think he would actually do it.”
Fuma gave him a scolding look while Kei laughed with the rest of them, poking at his boyfriend until he caved as well.
They ran over their last few things and shuffled to the stage, waiting for the second act to finish. There was a sort of thrill in the air, a nervous excitement thrumming through their veins.
Vocal warmups, air practices, and visual checks were quickly completed, the four of them having different outfits but somehow harmonious.
Euijoo ran out to the already prepared microphone, quickly plugging in his guitar into the amp nearby and grinning out into the tight-packed crowd. The lights were shining directly into his face, blinding in their yellow-white shine.
“Missed us?” He called out.
While the glare of the lights left him visionless, they did nothing to hide the screams of their fans, seemingly vast and unending in the way that they were all packed into the small bar.
The clack of Fuma’s drumsticks let him know that they had finished their set up, and he positioned his fingers to their positions on the fret.
Nothing would ever compare to this, the feeling of leaping with his arms stretched open as the beat clicked once, twice, three times and the band launched into song.
As he looked out into the crowd, his throat was tight, pleasantly exhausted for their last few songs. Sweat dripped down the side of his face, orange-red bangs sticking to his forehead. It was exhilarating, the feeling of being heard, of feeling seen.
He wondered for a moment, if they really reached to the end of the battle of the bands, could they have an audience that really was as vast as the lights made it seem?
“Hw are we feeling?” He yelled, various responses being thrown back at him. “I’ll tell you that we’re supposed to be done with this next song, but it’s up to you! How’s a few more sound?”
”Encore, encore!” The fans screamed. Vaguely in the back, someone muttering about unplugging their amps could be heard, several placating voices stopping him.
Euijoo swiveled behind him to see his band – mostly to gage their own tiredness levels – his smile so wide he could feel his cheeks beginning to ache.
Taki was screaming into his mic to hype them more, sandy hair and its multi-colored clips flying everywhere. The bottom half of Jo’s face was obscured by a mask, his eyes wildly expressive as he waved to some of the closer audience members. Fuma was causing a ruckus as he listed the bottom of his tank top to wipe his face, sparing glances to where Kei was cheering for them loudly.
They looked to Euijoo at once, giving him their go-ahead for another song, Euijoo regaining attention and launching them into the next song waiting for them. Midway through their last song, he caught a head of choppy black hair leaning over the bar area, looking up at the stage every once and awhile.
The lights seemed to dim and his fingers nearly slipped, gritting his teeth through another member’s lines as he squinted at the figure, making out sharp angles and eyes that seemed to tease even from afar.
What the hell were the Nekos doing there?
He spit out the last of his lines – one of their first songs – an angry, fast paced number that felt more and more relevant the more Euijoo stared. The one head became four, and he stumbled over the sign-off, giving a bow to the audience before heading towards the backstage.
“They’re here,” He spat, leaving his guitar in its case and storming out of the backstage into the bar itself.
“Who’s here?” Kei called after him, the two eldest beginning to follow after him. He didn’t dignify them with a response, and while leaving backstage directly after a set wasn’t the brightest of ideas, Euijoo wasn’t quite thinking straight.
Nicholas turned towards him as he got closer, an infuriating smile on his face. The bartender he was speaking to widened his eyes, moving towards a different patron nearby.
“What are you doing here?” Euijoo hissed the moment he was in earshot. Nicholas shrugged, looking him up and down in an exaggerated onceover.
“You don’t own this place, you know.” Nicholas said smoothly. “I have friends other than the band, and I heard there were some good acts today. I liked the first one, but the third one lacked a little something. Not visually though, they have that covered.”
Heat flaring into his face – from anger, nothing more – Euijoo instinctively tugged down the hem of his shirt, the slim-fit material having a habit of revealing skin.
“The only thing we lack is being a group of insufferable human beings,” He crossed his arms, the two of them leaning towards each other unconsciously. “Unlike your own group, we’re not here to fuck around and show up in places we’re not welcome in. We beat you this week, fair and square.”
“No one ever said that we couldn’t enter the premises,” Nicholas scoffed, turning to the bartender who was now watching them from a distance. “Ricky, do the rules say that we can’t show up?”
“No,” Ricky shrugged eyes darting between them with intrigue. “But do your posturing without involving me, please.”
Euijoo scowled, ready to retort at both of them when Fuma placed a hand on his shoulder, startling him as Kei flanked his other side.
“See? No rules against it.” Nicholas smirked, looking at the two others besides him. “What, can’t handle something without Mama and Papa?”
“Where are your pests, then?” Euijoo waved his hand to the side, a flush of anger still staining his ears a shade of red. While he didn’t have much of a quarrel with the other members of Neko Norms, he was certain there had been four of them. “You brought them along with you for what? Emotional support?”
Nicholas seemed somewhat caught off guard, looking around as he realized they’d disappeared. Euijoo caught a glimpse of some kind of annoyance before it switched back to the usual easy-going cool look upon the other boy’s face.
“They came of their own free will, and I have a pretty good idea of where they are. You’re not going to like it much, though.”
⟿⬲⬳
Taki bit his bottom lip as his older brother disappeared into the bar, peeking after him to confirm that he’d indeed gone far. While Euijoo had only seemed to notice the Nekos – or more specifically, Nicholas – during their last song, Taki had spotted all four of them during the beginning of their set.
Something like guilt twisted in his stomach as he trudged back to his instrument, taking care to put it away after a job well done. Jo was sitting on one of the boxes with his closed bass guitar case propped up next to him, mask hanging off of one ear.
It was somewhat of a tense silence, and Taki fidgeted nervously until a shadow fell across them in the doorway of the backroom. Jo was quick to fix his mask, eyes narrowing as the shadow split into three and waltzed into the room.
“Hi~” Harua was quick to enter his space, voice low in a half whisper. “Couldn’t resist saying hello while our darling leaders are occupied.”
Taki flushed immediately, the red-haired boy too close for comfort. The words curled around his traitorous heart and squeezed, something that had been happening all too often. The guilt-like feeling stopped just for a moment as he allowed himself to bask in the two pairs of eyes searching his face.
“They won’t notice much,” Maki promised, giving him a wide puppy-like smile. “You were amazing up there, just like always.”
He glanced around anyways, only seeing Yuma and Jo in the corner, the cat-like boy twirling his finger around the strap of Jo’s mask.
“Thank you,” Taki said eventually, his ears burning. “You really shouldn’t be here. The older ones are only gone for a bit, and I don’t want you to get in fights with your leader.”
“We wanted to see you,” Harua pouted at the same time that Maki said, “That’s what I said, but whatever.”
Harua glared at the taller one, Taki’s eyes bouncing between them as their silent conversation before giggling quietly, immediately dissolving the tension between the two as they beamed at him.
“Thank you for coming to see me,” He said again. “Even though I think you should go. They aren’t as stupid as you think they are.”
“I don’t know, I think Nico is pretty stupid,” Maki smirked. “He only has eyes for your leader.”
“I think that Euijoo hates him too much for it to be hate, at this point,” Taki mused, Harua scoffing besides him.
“They’re doing their dick measuring contest right out in the open, it’d be easier for them to fuck and get it over with. Then we could get you all to ourselves.”
“I’m not yours,” The synthesist shot back, half playful and half serious. The small pang of guilt had returned, poking at his chest. While he’d forgotten it for the moment, he willfully reclaimed it as a shield. It felt too real with the two of them, too honest as if the two of them could see directly through him. His next words were much quieter. “You know I haven't agreed to any of that.”
“We like you a lot,” Maki offered, a touch of soft understanding in his voice. “If that helps anything. We’re probably going to keep trying.”
“I’m not very good at taking ‘No’ for an answer.” Harua let the space between them grow, grabbing Maki’s arm. “But if you want us to really leave you alone, without the opinions of everyone else, then we will.”
Truth be told, Taki didn’t know if he could reach for them without feeling as though he was betraying the band – more specifically Euijoo – even if he felt like he was falling deeper with every stolen moment.
“I-”
Before he could give a response, Nicholas ran through the door with a devilish smile on his face, Euijoo ramming straight into his back with an oomph. His eyes quickly left the couple in front of him and adjusted his position accordingly, appearing as innocent as possible.
“Watch your step, Juju.” Nicholas turned to look over his shoulder, eyes cast downwards to the flustered taller boy.
Euijoo responded with a rather undignified middle finger to his face, dusting himself off with a somewhat dramatic flair. Taki resisted the urge to smirk at his leader, not wanting to add to the embarrassment – or earn himself a beating. Kei – standing in the doorway with Fuma, having followed the band leaders to the room – turned away, surely doing the same. Yuma had no such qualms, cackling as the OJ leader began to turn red. Jo beside him busied himself with his mask straps, eyes avoiding the scene.
“Lighten up, Four-Eyes,” Harua called, having quickly turned around when they’d entered. “Just having a chat with your darlings.”
“I’m not even wearing glasses right now,” Euijoo muttered to himself, before pointing at the door. “Take your people and get out.”
“Same time next week?” Nicholas shuffled Harua and Maki out the door, Taki having been looking away from them the whole time. What brought him slight amusement, however, was watching Yuma be dragged out by the back of his shirt after ignoring his leader’s push for them to leave.
“I’d rather not,” Euijoo called after them, waiting until they’d left fully. He sighed, motioning towards the back of the room. “We should get back to campus.”
The rest of them nodded, Taki and Jo picking up their cases and beginning to move towards Kei’s car. As he scooted into the backseat, he couldn’t help but feel that cold sense of wrongdoing, sending tremors through his body.
Kei bid the two of them goodnight as they headed towards their dorm, the two of them in the same building.
Taki felt Jo grab onto his shoulder, looking up at the taller one as he did so. Jo’s mask was off and folded into his bag, the moonlight shining on his pale face.
“I think you should do what makes you happy,” He said, as they climbed up the steps. “Even if you’re scared of it. People you love will be happy when you’re happy, not when you’re hurting yourself from trying to please them. Even if it hurts them a bit, they’ll come around.”
Taki blinked, watching as Jo patted his head and turned towards his floor.
“Thank you, Jojo.” He managed to call out, just as Jo moved to unlock his door. “You should take your own advice.”
Jo’s eyes twinkled just slightly, shaking his head. “That’s not my problem. Mine is much less sentimental.”
“What does that mean?” Taki yelled back at him, waving as Jo’s roommate – Hikaru, a classical dance major – stuck his head out the door to see what the hold up was.
“Nothing at all!” Jo responded cheerfully, ducking into the room as Hikaru waved back. Taki shrugged and continued his way to his room.
Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if he let himself enjoy the fall.
⟿⬲⬳
Euijoo was going to die. Or vomit. Or die.
The auditions had come around sooner that they realized. The Auditions room was intimidating, but the line of bands waiting for check-in was even more so. He felt like it stretched for ages, holding his stickered guitar case with sweaty palms. Kei was feeding off their nerves, hovering around the four of them and handing out water bottles, snacks, and various other things that none of them needed.
Taki was playing a game of Pokemon with Fuma as they shuffled towards check in, Jo holding a pad of sticky notes to doodle on. Once they checked in, the five of them found a small space to huddle, not empty but not crowded enough to make eye contact with the competition.
Euijoo figured friends wouldn’t hurt once the competition got rolling, if it was all in good fun in the end. It would be fine, even if they didn’t make it past the first round.
As long as they passed the auditions, right?
“Hey, Euijoo?” Taki whispered into his ear, voice somewhat nervous. Euijoo brushed it off and turned to look at their youngest. Surely it was just pre-auditions jitters? He was certainly feeling them himself, stomach churning rapidly.
“Yeah?”
“You might want to-”
Familiar voices began to stand up above the crowd, coming closer with the passing seconds. He whipped his head around and made direct eye contact with Nicholas, the cat-like eyes widening in surprise as much as his.
“What are you doing here?”