Chapter Text
In the middle of dozing off, Younghyun’s eyes snap open at the muffled sound of the front door being closed and the quiet shuffle of feet in the dead of the night. The red digits on the clock on his table blink at him as he tries to erase the sleep from his eyes by digging them into the heels of his palms. The soft light from his lamp is too bright, leaving residual spots in his vision as he gazes down at the open textbook he’d been trying to study. Younghyun hears the door again, closer this time, before he slowly drags himself out of his chair, his joints popping with the motion.
For once he’s actually thankful that his roommate makes so much noise coming into their apartment at two in the morning, preventing him from turning his power nap into something more appropriate for the time of night. Leaving the comfort of his bedroom, Younghyun pads quietly to the kitchen with only the light from his room to guide him. Passing the foyer reminds him of his distaste for the older male as the light scent of cigarettes and alcohol lingers through the air.
With a glass of water in hand, Younghyun spies the light spilling from beneath his roommate’s door before going into his own room and closing it without any consideration for his neighbor. A messy bed is pushed against the wall opposite a desk and chair, the open textbook mocking him in the dead of the night. Just one more chapter, he quietly tells himself and isn’t even surprised when he starts to hear the gentle cacophony of birdsong outside his window at dawn three hours later.
.
In his third year of business management, Kang Younghyun is no stranger to the studious life of a broke college student. This semester is especially terrible. It probably wouldn’t be so bad if he hadn’t tried to sneak that French minor in, but Younghyun is as stubborn as they get. Not to mention he’s trying to figure out how to get more shifts at his part-time job because he needs the money except his supervisor currently has a delicate brow arched and arms crossed over her chest.
“Noona, please,” Younghyun pleads again, hands starting to wring together out of nervousness. He didn’t think it’d be this difficult to ask for more hours.
Yubin tilts her head slightly, regarding him with an air of sympathy. “Younghyun, I’ve seen how tired you are coming in, and the number of books in that bag of yours that you seem determined to drag around everywhere.” Younghyun winces at this. “And don’t bother asking Taecyeon, he won’t give you the extra hours either.”
Younghyun doesn’t bother hiding the huge sigh that escapes him. “But–”
“You’ve been here for three years and the customers love you. I’ll look at the books and talk it over with Taec and we’ll see if we can do anything to up your pay,” she placates instead, “and maybe your hours,” she adds on, earning herself a small chuckle at the joy in Younghyun’s face.
He leaves the café late afternoon with a smile on his face and an iced coffee in each hand, striding across campus and enjoying the sun as he heads towards his favorite library. He spots the mess of black hair of his favorite dongsaeng waiting by the entrance, conversing with someone he can’t see. Younghyun lifts a drink at him as soon as he gets close enough and Yoon Dowoon flashes him a grin that shows his braces.
“Got you something, Dowoonie.” Younghyun happily hands him over the one he hasn’t been sipping on before glancing to right, his movements stilling at the presence beside him. “Oh.” He should have recognized the platinum blond hair from behind.
“Hey Bri,” Jaehyung lets slip in English, clearly surprised to see him, eyes blinking almost comically from behind his glasses.
“Hey,” Younghyun mutters back, pleasant mood doing a one-eighty at the sight of his roommate. Jaehyung’s never called him Bri before, but Younghyun’s already reminded how annoyed he gets because the older male won’t stop calling him Brian in the first place. “Dowoon, let’s go.”
Dowoon raises his eyebrows in question as Younghyun strides by him, aiming for the doors.
“Hyung, I thought–” Younghyun hears, though it sounds like Dowoon’s not addressing him.
“See you later, Dowoon,” comes faintly after before Dowoon catches up to him and nudges him hard on the shoulder.
“What was that?”
“What was what?” Younghyun replies, feigning ignorance as they find a table secluded in the corner. He focuses on taking his books out and not on how Dowoon is giving him an odd look. Younghyun manages to hook up his laptop and turn it on before his friend bothers him again.
“Hyung, I didn’t even know you guys knew each other.” Dowoon sips his drink noisily and gains a few glares from the other patrons of the library.
“Yeah, well,” Younghyun busies himself with his textbook, “he’s my roommate.”
“Jaehyung-hyung’s your roommate?” That earns a few more glares shot their way and Younghyun joins them, looking over to see how Dowoon’s eyes have widened in shock. “Jaehyungie-hyung, the roommate who gets home late at night and keeps you from studying because of his loud gaming? The one with the attitude who keeps nagging you to clean all the time and smells like cigarettes and alcohol from his nightly shenanigans?”
“Yes,” Younghyun huffs quietly, remembering the one day he’d been so fed up he’d spent his time complaining on the phone instead of working on his essay, “that Jaehyung.”
“But–” Dowoon sputters, clearly confused, “Jaehyung-hyung’s really nice.”
“It’s all a facade,” he retorts, “he’s an inconsiderate jerk who can’t keep it in his pants.”
Younghyun glances up in time to catch the look of disbelief crossing Dowoon’s face. “That doesn’t sound like Jaehyungie-hyung.”
“Either that or he’s got an alcohol problem, whatever,” Younghyun finishes, done with the topic and moving his attention onto more important things. Like the assignment he has due bright and early tomorrow. His roommate is the other reason his life has been miserable lately, but that’s for another time.
“But Jaehyungie-hyung doesn’t sound like either of those people,” Dowoon trails off but by now no one’s listening to him, Younghyun’s incessant typing signaling the end of discussion.
.
To be honest, Younghyun doesn’t know that much about Park Jaehyung. He’d only been paired up with the older male because his old roommate Jaebeom had decided to commute from home and said a friend’s friend was interested in sharing an apartment. In this case, this stranger was Younghyun’s friend’s friend’s friend. What could go wrong?
Everything apparently.
Younghyun doesn’t know how it started, how the fourth-year political science student started getting on his nerves. Perhaps it was from the moment the senior found Younghyun’s English name written on an application form early on and decided all by himself that Brian was more appropriate than Younghyun. Or that stumbling into their apartment late at night drunk, and then complaining to Younghyun in the morning that the younger male’s multiple pairs of shoes had been left haphazardly in the doorway caused him to trip the moment he got back. Younghyun would have felt bad for it, if not for the fact that Jaehyung is a natural klutz and it wasn’t Younghyun’s fault that he was intoxicated.
What Younghyun doesn’t get is how clumsy, nerdy, scrawny Jaehyung in his spectacles and overly loud gaming habits can even be a thing with the ladies, and yet Younghyun remembers overhearing some girls in his communications class giggling about hooking up with the tall blonde named Jae. It doesn’t help that Younghyun had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes when he overhears a similar conversation not a week later between a male and female classmate, which Younghyun had only briefly thought peculiar before ignoring the rest of the conversation. Nothing about the deftness of Jae’s hands, nor reminders of the fact that Younghyun knows the older male owns a guitar and is admittedly good at it.
Sometimes Younghyun is getting ready for bed when Jaehyung comes home, sometimes he’s almost asleep when noise from the door wakes him back up. On days that Jaehyung isn’t out at night, Younghyun can hear his muffled voice through the thin wall when he plays his online games that makes Younghyun wonder if Jaehyung is even attending his classes. Does he not have any studying to do? Does his family have money for him to waste away playing games and going out at night?
There’s a particular day where Younghyun wakes up from a late nap with a headache and decides to skip his evening lecture in favor of the warmth of his bed. He’s later woken up by the strum of a guitar, broken melodies repeating themselves over and over as a telltale sign of music-making Younghyun doesn’t fail to recognize. It reminds him of his childhood, when he used to play his guitar until his fingers felt like they were going to fall off over his mother’s calls for dinnertime. He’d carried his interest to the bass when he got it as a gift from his aunt (by accident, she didn’t know the difference), but both instruments are now in their respective cases, collecting dust in his parents’ basement. Bitter arguments of having careers over hobbies and education over having fun resurface and the continuous pounding in his temple is just the icing on the cake.
He probably has bed hair, there’s a hole in one of his socks and his t-shirt is worn and faded, but he doesn’t care. Younghyun opens his door in a huff, two steps is all it takes to stand in the doorway of Jaehyung’s room, his door ajar and music drifting out with no care in the world. Jaehyung is sitting on his chair, legs crossed and electric guitar sitting prettily on his lap as he pencils something down on the sheet in front of him. It doesn’t take long before the blonde lifts his gaze to meet his, guitar pick wedged between pink lips and glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. Younghyun resists the urge to push them back up.
“Could you keep it down?”
Jaehyung languidly takes the pick out from between his teeth, eyes roaming the younger male’s body as if he was assessing him. There’s a hint of disapproval that flits across his face. “Thought you had class,” he finally says in English.
“I did– I do,” Younghyun corrects himself, also slipping into English, “but I’ve got a headache and you’re not making it any better.”
He ignores the way Jaehyung scrunches his nose in annoyance at his statement, accusing instead, “How was I supposed to know?”
He’s not, but Younghyun is being petty right now. He doesn’t care. “Could you at least close the door or I don’t know, play your guitar properly. I don’t have to know how to play to recognize how annoying that is,” he spits, instantly regretting the words as they come out but not taking any of them back.
Younghyun doesn’t miss the way Jaehyung’s face darkens before the younger male promptly goes back to his own room, slamming the door and diving back into his bed. The sound of another door slamming vibrates against the walls just as he squeezes his eyes shut and folds his pillow around his head, anything to stop the painful thrum in his skull. He wonders how much noise it filters out because he can barely pick up the faint notes of the guitar from the adjacent room and he falls asleep in no time.
.
Younghyun remembers feeling lost in the first month of his first year. He’d been told that he had a bit of a resting-bitch-face that could make him rather unapproachable. He’d befriended his new roommate Im Jaebeom, however the other male’s schedule clashed a bit with his and he was already going out with some friends he made in one of his classes. That left Younghyun alone in their apartment, not quite in the mood to study but too lazy to get up and do anything else. He resorts to browsing his social media feed on his phone, his thumb carelessly swiping upwards across the screen. The page slows down at a video that starts automatically before he can swipe again and Younghyun lets it play, curious.
The video is grainy, clearly shot from a phone in what looked like a low-lit bar. The artificial lighting from the ceiling is barely enough to identify the figure in the shot, standing alone with an electric guitar hanging in front of him. His hair looks like it could be a faded tone of grey or blue, soft bangs falling over his eyes as both hands caress the microphone in front of him. There’s background music playing as the male croons into the mic, eyes closed and plump lips moving to the words. Younghyun is entranced by the warm voice, smooth like velvet as the singer’s hands fall and the song arrives to the chorus, the undeniable sound of the live guitar coming to life.
Wo, what are you saying?
Gone is the staccato and light flow from the verse. The chorus is strong, singing voice heavy with emotion above the electric strings. Younghyun watches the performance right until it cuts off before he searches for a name. The video has no title, just a bunch of likes in the corner and a time stamp. He’s disappointed at the lack of information, but a sudden bout of inspiration has him pulling out some scrap sheets of graph paper and scribbling a bunch of lines down.
Younghyun later forgets about the video when he gets a call from Jaebeom and the scrawls of poetry get forgotten along with it.
.
Younghyun ignores the way Jaehyung keeps shooting him looks every so often from where he’s sweeping the common area. The junior is writing up his report on his laptop, but the sighs across the room don’t escape him and it doesn’t take long before Younghyun ceases his typing and pointedly glares at his roommate.
“Do you have something to say?” he utters out in English.
Jaehyung stills the broom and glares at him from behind his glasses, from behind his blonde bangs. His hair isn’t styled and it keeps flopping over his eyes despite him tossing his head to the side. The fourth year looks like he hasn’t been up long, still dressed in a washed-out green t-shirt and plaid pajama pants.
“It would be nice if you swept once in a while,” Jaehyung states simply, as if he was commenting about the weather. There’s no malicious tone to his words but it bothers Younghyun anyway. “Just to keep the dust bunnies away, you know?”
“Your room is a mess too, I don’t even know why you bother,” Younghyun replies, not missing the way Jaehyung tightens his grip on the broomstick.
There’s a moment that passes before something akin to resignation crosses the older male’s face. “Whatever, dude.”
The younger male turns back to his homework as Jaehyung does his rounds and leaves. Younghyun wonders if his other friends have to same issue with their roommates. Why two college guys would even care about the dust on the floor beats him. He would think that the content of their empty fridge and the amount of instant noodles would be of more importance and somehow more stereotypical of their student life but to each their own.
He doesn’t think much of it.
.
The ring of the door has Younghyun absently looking up from where he’s busy filling another customer’s order. He recognizes the brunette, an older international student from L.A who Younghyun’s become familiar with from the frequent visits to the café. The senior is chatting with someone just out of Younghyun’s view, but Younghyun is busy handing the plated sweet pancake to a younger female before he slides behind the cash register with a smile.
“Mark-hyung, what can I–”
His smile dims as he regards the taller male standing opposite him. There’s a black guitar bag slung on his back, bangs styled back from his forehead and black roots starting to peak beneath the blonde locks. Jaehyung is dressed in a white graphic tee under a denim jacket and belted black jeans, opposite of the oversized hoodies he’s normally swamped in at home.
“An americano, and the red-bean bread,” Mark points out. “Jae?”
“An iced coffee,” Jaehyung replies, tone flat and clearly looking unamused, “with soy milk.” Younghyun tries not to mirror the expression.
“Younghyun, where’s Jinyoung?” Mark asks instead, peering over his shoulder to look. If he notices the tension between Younghyun and Jaehyung, he doesn’t mention it.
“Studying for his midterm, I think he’ll be back on his next shift tomorrow, hyung,” Younghyun replies, ringing them up. He’d offered to take over his co-worker’s shift when Jinyoung’s worrying became evident through his tense shoulders and warry eyes.
Mark hums his reply and reaches for his wallet before Jaehyung gets his out first, card already in between his fingers. “I got this one, dude,” he says in English.
There’s a short argument in English over who’s paying that Younghyun tries not to get irritated at before Jaehyung successfully slides his credit card over towards him.
Younghyun takes it as nicely as he can, swiping it and returning it with a strained smile. It’s hard for his blood not to boil when Jaehyung rolls his eyes before pushing Mark towards an empty table. The two are an attractive pair, from the way Mark’s canines flash when he laughs and how Jaehyung’s eyes disappear when he snickers over something Mark has said, the gesture unfamiliar to him. Younghyun is almost tempted to spoil the iced coffee he’s making but stops himself short. He is still a professional after all.
Blatantly ignoring the female eyes that are all sneaking glances at the two boys in the corner, Younghyun calls out Mark’s name and leaves out his roommate’s on purpose. Mark greets him with another smile and chooses to place the end of the small paper bag holding his red bean bread between sharp teeth so he’s free to grab a drink per hand. There’s a chorus of muffled squeals from the female patrons of the café as Mark walks back, Jaehyung giggling into his sleeve at the display.
“What’s got you all worked up about?”
Nayeon shifts her attention from where all the commotion is back to him, eyes blinking up at him innocently. Younghyun is not fooled. He does however feel like he’s being judged. “Nothing,” he replies bluntly, focusing instead of wiping the counter down in front of him.
His younger co-worker looks over to the pair in the corner and doesn’t take her eyes off them when she responds, “You might wear a hole into the counter if you keep going.”
Younghyun lets out an annoyed sigh, “Show off.”
“I know you don’t mean me, oppa,” Nayeon says automatically, turning around completely and gaze softening. “You know he only comes in the days you don’t work, Jaehyung-sunbae.”
“What?” he croaks, attention finally pulled away and onto the female beside him. Nayeon is pretty, her brown hair pulled back into a high ponytail and two front teeth flashing against the bottom of her lip.
“They don’t always come together. Mark-oppa comes to see Jinyoung-oppa mostly, but Jae-sunbae always comes in the days you don’t work. Jinyoung-oppa and I even saw him do a complete turn at the door once. I thought it was weird, but you also happened to be the one behind the cash register at the time. I always wondered if it was a coincidence but...” she trails off. There must be something in his closed expression that has Nayeon assessing him before straightening and saying instead, “I haven’t seen Dowoon in a while. You should tell him to visit.”
“That’s cause you like to tease him,” Younghyun replies, smile stiff but also internally grateful with the change in topic. Nayeon simply gives him a light pat on the arm before going to attend the next customer at the ring of the door. Younghyun spares one last glance at the table just in time to catch Jaehyung’s eyes on him, mouth in a thin line and face unreadable before his gaze slides back over to his friend in front of him. Younghyun ignores the way it makes him squirm as he leaves to the backroom, hopefully not coming back out until the older male is gone.
.
“Hyung, come on,” Dowoon insists, pulling him in the opposite direction of his apartment. Younghyun had agreed to come out for dinner but going out to a bar afterwards was not part of the plan. “You’re wasting your college life,” Dowoon tries again, fingers digging into his arm.
“I have fun,” Younghyun states weakly but the gaze the younger male sends his way withers his defenses in no time.
“Wonpil-hyung and Jinyoung-hyung will be there.”
Younghyun is slightly appeased by the familiar names, heaving a sigh as he lets Dowoon drag him along, finally stopping at a sign that says Sunrise. They flash their IDs at the door and head towards the bar, the younger male leading the way. Younghyun recognizes his co-worker, Park Jinyoung’s side profile in the dark cardigan and he nods when their eyes meet.
“Dowoon– Oh, Younghyun-hyung,” Wonpil calls happily as they greet each other. Kim Wonpil was good friends with Jinyoung and Dowoon, so meeting him was inevitable. A year younger than him, Younghyun’s first impression of the sophomore was how awkward and quiet he was, but with his talkative and cheery nature he was sure proven wrong. Sometimes it confuses Younghyun on how close Wonpil and Jinyoung are considering their opposite personalities.
“Wonpil, is this where you usually perform? On the piano?”
Wonpil nods as Jinyoung adds, “he plays really well,” making Wonpil swat his arm out of embarrassment.
“Yeah, I’m not playing tonight though.”
The lights begin to dim and the quadruplet turns towards the stage, previously empty but now occupied by a single individual with an acoustic guitar. It’s hard to make out any facial features under the low lighting and Younghyun squints.
“Why is it so dark?”
“Uh–” he thinks he hears Wonpil reply, “hyung likes it like that.”
Younghyun doesn’t get to question it further when another person steps on stage. “I hope you’re all having a good time so far. And you guys know him already, he’s eaJ, give it up!”
Younghyun claps out of politeness as the announcer steps off the stage and the performer named eaJ steps forward. He strums a few chords on his guitar before using his foot pedal and the music starts. It’s familiar somehow, between the way he stands and holds his guitar and the way he touches the mic on the stand yet Younghyun can’t pinpoint it. It’s the singing that gets him in the end.
He recalls the video from years ago, the one he’d been enraptured with and never had a name to go by. But there he is, voice soft and earnest, fingers strumming away on an acoustic instead of the electric from the video. His hair has grown, dyed a lighter color, long hair now parted in the middle of his forehead and falling lightly to either side of his eyes. His dress shirt looks like silk and is a solid blue hue, the top few buttons left open and a pendant swinging freely from his neck. An earring Younghyun can’t make out sparkles by his left ear, catching the faint light as the male serenades the crowd. This song is soft, with a bunch of verses that Younghyun’s creative-music-deprived-brain thinks would sound even better with a harmony or an accompaniment.
It’s the only way to make you happy.
So I let it go, let go, let go
The crowd erupts in applause when the song ends and Younghyun eagerly joins them with Wonpil hooting at his side. The singer doesn’t seem to talk much because as soon as the clapping dies down, he heads straight into another song, covers of the Beatles, another song Younghyun faintly recognizes called Put Your Records On, and then.
Hello, is there anyone there?
Is there anyone to answer me?
Was everything a misunderstanding?
He doesn’t quite understand the reason his eyes start to burn, and Younghyun blinks back unshed tears as the singer starts to belt the chorus, words in English, Why am I alone? ringing in his ears. His heart pounds in his chest and there’s something dreadfully familiar about his voice that bothers him even when the song finishes and the accompanying applause dies away with end of the performance. When the lights finally brighten up a bit, the singer is already gone.
“What did you think, Younghyun-hyung?”
There are goosebumps running up his arms, and Younghyun shrugs it off distractingly. “He was good.”
“You think so?” Wonpil asks, a playful lilt to his voice in a context Younghyun can’t quite place. Before he can ask, Jinyoung grabs Wonpil’s hand none-too-discreetly, and Younghyun averts his eyes to be polite. Wonpil suddenly looks disappointed but Younghyun doesn’t ask why, not wanting to appear nosy. Except Younghyun is curious about one thing.
“Wonpil-ah, do you know him? The singer?”
“Who, eaJ-sunbae?”
“He’s good, isn’t he, Younghyun-hyung?” Dowoon eagerly prompts again and Younghyun narrows his eyes at his dongsaeng. But he doesn’t get further on the subject when Jinyoung suddenly announces that they should leave, with it still being a weekday and everyone’s current status as college students.
Younghyun gets home late and somehow isn’t surprised that Jaehyung isn’t home. He’s changed and brushing his teeth when he hears the door open and the familiar shuffle of feet. Younghyun ignores him, finishing up and leaving the bathroom when he comes face-to-face with his roommate. Jaehyung is in his grey hoodie, hands tucked in the front pockets and the hood up, sitting on the back-half his head. His hair stands out and Younghyun is suddenly reminded of long sweeping bangs that frame a narrow face. Jaehyung pushes his glasses back up and scowls.
“Are you going to keep standing there?”
Younghyun merely glares in response as he stalks past the taller male and shuts the door to his room. When he opens his phone, he realizes that he has no idea how to spell the performer’s name and struggles with the hangul. When he gets no hits, he finally gives up and figures he could always ask Dowoon tomorrow, dreams of blonde hair, delicate hands and blue silk, figure alone in the dark.