Chapter Text
dejun doesn't know what to expect as he steps into the venue. he'd promised mark that he'd support him and his band at this weekend's gig but he's not exactly fond of the lively, raucous crowd a live gig entails.
ten's on yet another (study) date with kun; otherwise dejun would have invited his roommate along and they both of them could coo over mark together (for ten, it would be overtly while dejun would have done it duh, covertly).
dejun asks for a simple cup of coke at the refreshment stand, simply seeking something to keep himself occupied as he scans the venue and observes the audience. there are probably familiar faces milling in the crowd but dejun doesn't feel like drawing attention to himself. at best, he'll probably congratulate mark for a great set and book his uber right after.
sipping absentmindedly on his cup of coke, dejun settles himself at the back of the crowd. he takes out his phone to look at the line up for tonight's gig, and he's sorry to say, that other than mark's band, he has no idea who the rest of the acts are.
the lonely valentines, mark's band, are slated to perform last, which must mean a good thing, right? dejun's knowledge of live performances doesn't extend far past his own theatre work, but he supposes that live gigs save the best for last, to close the show?
-
dejun's on the last dregs of his coke when the lonely valentines finally start their set.
jaehyun, the band's lead singer, walks onstage and his presence is greeted with several catcalls from the audience. the singer only chuckles and flashes them a droll smile. dejun cranes his neck for a better look at jaehyun's typical outfit: an orange plaid tee and a white singlet. on anyone else it would have looked boring, but since it was jeong jaehyun and his deep-set dimples and his broad, square shoulders, and his- well, you get the point.
mark stumbles next onstage, his wiry fingers wrapped around the tuning pegs of his electric guitar. an electric blue guitar pick is clenched in between his teeth and mark continues making last-minute adjustments to his instrument. his eyes roam over the audience, spinning and spinning until he spots dejun at the very back. his eyes instantly crinkle into crescents and he gives a little wave. dejun waves back and mouths a silent good luck, even though mark's too faraway to read his lips.
johnny, the bassist, strolls onto stage and strikes a pose, drawing laughter from the audience. he nudges jaehyun and mark playfully with his hip, before settling himself in the background, several steps away from the drum set.
dejun doesn't know when the drummer had appeared, for the man seemed to have slunk out from the shadows. guanheng, the drummer, gives johnny a fist bump before settling himself onto the stool. he twirls a drumstick effortlessly in between his fingers and taps the crash cymbal several times.
guanheng has a bright, almost crazed energy in his eyes that dejun has come to associate with most drummers. yet that doesn't detract from his good looks. guanheng's wearing a backwards cap (but of course, dejun couldn't help but roll his eyes over the stereotype), with several strands of loosely-curled brown hair framing his handsome face. dejun's eyes traces guanheng's sleeveless graphic muscle tee and he arches his brow over the faint definition of guanheng's biceps.
dejun gets pulled away from eating guanheng with his eyes, when the band jump into their first song of the night. he soon gets swept away with the music, and at a loss of what to do, tucks his unoccupied hand in his jean pocket and nods his head along to the beat of the music.
there's a drum solo at the end of the third song and guanheng is like a man possessed, drumsticks flying across the drum set. the audience cheers him on as he reaches the climax of the solo, before ending off with an emphatic hit on his ride cymbal.
the lonely valentines perform a total of five songs, it's over all too soon, and all the members line up in front to take a bow.
guanheng steps in line beside mark, his tank top clinging onto his sweaty chest. even under the dim lights, it's a blessing to dejun's eyes.
dejun feels a pair of eyes on him and he lifts his gaze to find the drummer's puckish eyes locked onto him. whatever manic energy that had possessed his eyes earlier was gone. guanheng holds his gaze and gives dejun an impish, lopsided grin, before heading backstage.
oh, dejun's certain that guanheng's interested in him...
and he'll have him, alright.
dejun'll make sure of it.
draining the last of his coke, dejun decides to scheme a way to the drummer's heart.
-
dejun finishes formulating the first step of his plan, just as he meets up with mark in front of the band’s dressing room. guanheng appears midway through dejun's conversation with mark, having returned from the restroom. he does a double-take when he sees dejun, eyes blatantly scanning dejun from head to toe. they make the briefest of eye contact, before turning away.
however, guanheng hovers near the doorway, obviously listening in on their conversation. mark finally realises his presence, and stretches his slim arm to tug at guanheng's shirt.
"dejun bro, i don't know if you've guys met but this is guanheng! our drummer!" mark says, nudging guanheng forward with his shoulder.
dejun decides to play coy. "hi, i'm dejun. mark and i go way back since orientation."
"awesome," guanheng nods. "cool to meet you, dejun."
the trio launch into a conversation about the band's set, and dejun is grateful that both mark and guanheng make a conscious effort to ask him for his input. guanheng pours his entire focus towards dejun, and dejun can't help but preen over the attention. this might be easier than he'd thought.
when there is a lull in their conversation, dejun deftly takes over, launching step one of his master plan.
"markkkk," dejun fakes a sigh. "remember the school of rock-inspired musical the drama club is planning? mrs moon wants me to audition as the drummer..."
"but?" mark picks up easily on dejun's hesitance, while guanheng simply nods.
dejun sighs again, pushing his fringe back from his forehead. guanheng’s adam’s apple jumps in his throat, but he remains silent.
"it means i have to learn drumming, i need my playing to be convincing to secure that role," dejun says. "you know my track record, right, mark? i need to land this role."
"aw damn, bro," mark says plainly, before throwing an arm around dejun's shoulder. "that's rough."
dejun continues to attract sympathy by shaking his head and feigning sadness. what mark says next is exactly what dejun's expects from him. (trust mark to be so predictable.)
"you know what? i'm sure guanheng won't mind teaching you how to drum! you'd help dejun out, right, heng?" mark says.
guanheng perks up at being addressed. his eyes briefly gloss over, mentally registering mark's suggestion and his mouth falls open, almost comically.
"wait, what?" guanheng says intelligibly.
dejun swiftly drops the mournful expression, but not before gazing at guanheng with hopeful eyes. he casually brushes mark's arm from his shoulder and shifts to stand next to guanheng. the proximity causes guanheng's breath to catch in his throat.
"only if you don't mind, of course," dejun says.
he reaches out and places a hand on guanheng's arm. from his expression, dejun already knows his answer.
(guanheng is none the wiser that dejun is already skilled in drums, having learnt from kun the previous semester... but he doesn't need to know that.)
guanheng blinks mutely, distracted by the pretty flutter of dejun's lush eyelashes and the gentle yet deliberate hand on his forearm that accompanies dejun's request.
"you'll help me, won't you, guanheng?"
hell, guanheng'll be damned if he refuses a request from the prettiest boy at this live show.
"y-yeah," guanheng breathes out, jerkily nodding his head for emphasis.
dejun's hand trails down to his wrist, giving it an appreciative sqeeze.
"thank you! you're my saviour, guanheng." dejun's sweet words float above the din of the concert venue and wrap themselves like a locket around the base of guanheng's throat. he swallows again.
"uh," is all that guanheng can grind out. "yeah." (not cool, guanheng, his feeble brain supplies. not cool at all, dude. )
they exchange numbers, or it's more like dejun punches in his number into guanheng's phone and mark repeats guanheng's number to a bemused dejun (bless him, he's a good friend, that mark).
"you'll message me soon, won't you, guanheng?" dejun's tone is soft, but guanheng's brain processes it as a directive rather than a request.
"y-yeah, yeah, fuck of course i will," guanheng all but stumbles over his words.
-
dejun’s barely settled into the backseat of his uber when his handphone vibrates feebly in his back pocket. he swipes across the screen, and squints at the new message.
hey dejun its me guanheng when do u wanna start
oh, guanheng’s a silly, silly boy.
it’s already begun.