Chapter Text
“Sorry!” Euijoo called, wincing as he knocked into at least three different people in his rush. It wasn’t his fault that his class ran over the allotted time – as it had for the last three weeks – and he needed to be places. He was sure that the round glasses on his face and the bookbag across his body made him seem unassuming and even more remorseful, but in reality, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care past an apology.
Priorities lay in obliterating his opponent, and to do that, he needed to beat him to the local bar 15 minutes off his college campus.
An odd place to be rushing towards on a Wednesday afternoon, if one wasn’t a local. For a broke college student, this was the prime entertainment of the week, bets being set and people lingering around the corners of the streets.
Exactly midway between the two colleges lay the 999 Roses, a bar run by a staff of drama-loving college students.
The bar recruited three acts of entertainment each week for Saturday nights, with the policy that anyone could audition. If an act was accepted through the typical process of getting a gig, they were placed on a list of approved acts but not given one of the three open spots.
The only way to secure a performance was the sign-up sheet. The sign-up sheet was set out at 3:45pm every Wednesday with the three empty slots, waiting to be filled by any of those on the list. It became a race, a nearly physical fight, against all of the other performances.
Usually, the ones signed up on time were an employee of the bar itself, a random patron, and one of the local music groups.
In Euijoo’s case, he was running for the sheet, instead of for the show. His band had been one of the regulars until another rising band from their rival college reared its head. With the same distance, same mission, and a vendetta against each other that burned hot, it was a pain in the ass for Euijoo and a brand new show for the students.
Finally reaching the door, he shoved it open and stumbled towards the sheet, the abrupt opening startled those inside. The patrons quickly moved out of his way and he grabbed the clipboard, the sheet blessedly void of a spot.
“Cheers,” A nearby bartender smiled at him, hands busy with a glass. “It’s certainly been long enough.”
“You could have stopped that,” Euijoo grumbled. “No loyalty to your friends, Hanbin?”
It was hilariously anything but true, but the man kept his good-natured smile. “I’d rather not sleep on the couch again. I’ve been urged very strongly not to incite any bias and only touch the sheet if I were signing myself up.”
“Your boyfriend scares me,” Euijoo muttered, clicking the pen shut as he finished scribbling down the required information. “Good luck to you.”
“Are you going to wait around like he does?” Hanbin asked, leaning over the counter. “I could get you something if you’re going to.”
“I’d like to think I'm better than that,” He dryly, glancing behind him. “I would, but the others are here by now.”
The bartender shook his head, amusement on his lips. “I think your supposed rivalry makes up half of our income.”
Euijoo opened his mouth to reply when the heavy sound of boots clomping onto the floor caught his attention. Hanbin grinned and went back to work, Euijoo turning just in time to see who this had all been about.
Wang Nicholas, the leader of underground pop punk band Neko Norms and the bane of Euijoo’s existence.
His whole outfit jangled with the accent chains as he ran up to the sign-up sheet, scanning it for an empty slot. Euijoo tried to shut up the devil on his shoulder demanding he say something snarky in response, simply choosing to skirt past him.
“Waiting for me, Juju?” a low voice called out to him, just as he was in the clear. Euijoo hesitated, before turning around just slightly.
“Stop calling me that, first off,” he said, before turning back around and making his way out. “And second, we’re not all as obnoxious as you are, Wang.”
He could hear Nicholas laugh, the sound following him even as the door swung open. ”Same time next week?”
Euijoo didn’t bother with a response, finally outside of the establishment. He startled as an arm slung around his shoulder, relaxing slightly as he was met with the grinning face of Kei, and behind him, Fuma.
“Sounds like you got us a spot this week,” The senior was impeccably styled per usual, eyeliner sharp enough to stab. Euijoo thought he looked almost out of place in the dingy lighting.
“I did,” He confirmed, lips ticked up in half a smile. He shifted slightly and Kei loosened his grip just enough for him to look around. “Where are the others?”
“Taki was convinced you weren’t going to make it this time, so he stopped by the convenience store to pick up some consolatory snacks.” The older one laughed. Fuma came up behind them, chin finding Kei’s shoulder.
“He picked them out, but I can assure you that he’s not using his own money.”
Euijoo snorted, thinking of their quietest member being strong-armed into carrying – and paying – for what was probably a truckload of junk that none of them needed.
“Either way, that means we have a gig to prepare for!” Kei bounced on his feet, shaking both Euijoo and Fuma simultaneously. “I’ll design new posters!”
“Jo will design new posters,” Euijoo corrected lightly, the half smile turning into a full grin. Kei pouted, pushing him away.
“I love your posters,” Fuma leaned up to kiss his cheek. Euijoo gagged and Kei side-eyed him, latching onto his boyfriend in an overly dramatic affectionate gesture.
“Hello!” A cheerful voice yelled, their attention all moving towards it. Taki was jogging up to them, Jo shuffling behind him with two bags stuffed with snacks.
Euijoo grunted as the younger slammed into him, hanging off of him.
“It’s okay, we forgive you for not getting us a spot again~” Taki crooned in his ear, purposefully aggravating. “We brought you melon bread.”
“While I thank Jo for that, I did actually get us a spot.” He said, cringing at the warm breath lightly wetting his ear.
Taki gasped, a bright smile spreading across his face. Kei mirrored it in front of him, the thought that the two were inherently similar flashing across his mind for what was probably the hundredth time since Euijoo had met them.
“Why are we still here? We’ve gotta plan!” Taki jumped away from him and began to shove everyone down the street and back towards their college campus. “Does this mean I can eat your sorry-Nicholas-beat-you snack?”
“No,” Euijoo huffed.
“It’s a congratulatory snack now,” Jo said quietly from where he’d migrated to Euijoo’s side. “Good job.”
He smiled back at him, taking the offered plastic bag from him with a nod of appreciation. Taki noticed them lagging behind and grabbed onto Jo’s arm to pull him further up, Euijoo jogging to keep up.
From the outside, their mismatched group was something odd to see. It was curious to Euijoo himself when he looked over the way the five of them meshed together.
If anyone asked him how this happened, he would tell them that he didn’t know himself. Ultimately, the band was an accident. A coincidence orchestrated however unintentionally by Koga Yudai himself.
Timid and rather a mess, Euijoo had been spotted by Kei at orientation and from then on, the older had made it his personal mission to befriend the younger.
Fuma was Kei’s boyfriend, quiet and scary looking with tattoos up his well defined biceps. The image quickly fell away once Euijoo learned that all it took was a quick mention of Pokemon to get the older to turn years younger, rocking just slightly with excitement.
Taki was impossible not to know, a cheerful younger boy who was Kei’s charge. Despite his character, he was much more of a loner and more often than not simply followed his older brother for company. His eclectic style was all together curious, a mix of colors and clothing that broadcasted his personality. Euijoo would see him around, conversations sparse outside of lunch.
Kei would often find Euijoo in a library (sleeping) or outside of classes and drag him to eat or some other such thing. It was amusing to see when Kei’s energy was not directed towards him. He had a rather big interest in adopting what seemed to see every self isolating introvert on campus, which led to their last addition.
Jo was a near mute boy in the back of one of his composition classes, and Euijoo rarely saw his full face. It was usually hidden beneath hoodies, and the bangs falling into his eyes made it all too difficult. He was somewhat of a campus myth, said to be shockingly beautiful when seen correctly. The paint on his clothing and sketchbooks lead him to assume he was an art major. It took a offerings from what was eventually everyone in their little group, integrating him into the mess as if he’d been there all along
On their own, Euijoo had no clue how to make friends, Fuma was silent, Taki was a drifter, and Jo was a loner. Pushed together, they found somewhat of a kindred spirit.
The band, like he’d said before, was an accident. Euijoo had wanted to try an arrangement with live sound and had quietly asked Kei, who was friendly with everyone, if he knew any people willing to help him. The grin on his face had been both blinding and startling, but nothing was quite as startling as finding the other three in the meeting place that Kei had sent him towards.
What was supposed to be a one time thing became excuses to play together, eager to create bonds with people who also felt how they felt, who saw their instruments as extensions of themselves. Alone, they barely made a sound. Together, they could create a symphony, a broadcast of their wants and fears and needs wrapped in a melody.
After a long campaign they settled on the name Orange Juice in Our Eyes, their pastime launching them directly into the underground scene with a small - but infinitely large to them - fan group and their songs playing on the campus radio.
It was then that they discovered Neko Norms, another rising group who had a fondness for their favorite spots to perform.
With their unusual name and wild chaotic energy, they drew in people just as much as the rebellious and challenging nature of the other band.
Euijoo would stand firm that Nicholas was the one who started it. Later on, Taki would joke that everything in Euijoo’s life was the cause of Wang Nicholas, even if he was on a completely different campus.
If he were being honest, he didn’t have much of a problem with the rest of the band. It was just Nicholas and his aggravating tendencies and his smug smile and his stupid eyes and clothes and-
Something about him destroyed the barrier in Euijoo’s brain that reminded him to stay in check, rising to whatever bait that the other threw at him in passing. Fuma would often remind him that that’s most likely what the other was looking for to begin with, but when had Euijoo ever been rational when it came to Nicholas?
⟿⬲⬳
“Matthew in the back?” Nicholas asked Hanbin, grinning at the door as he watched Euijoo walk out.
“Seok Mae’s on the later shift,” Hanbin responded, somewhat disapprovingly. “You’re not as invested in losing as he is, are you?”
“Sure I am, what else would I be here for?” He shrugged and tossed a salute at the other man. “See you next week.”
Nicholas was more amused than anything as he walked out of the bar without a spot for the week’s gig at the local bar. It was always a delight to push the buttons of the round-eyed leader of their ‘rival’ band, even if he had won this week’s slot.
He made his way back to campus, making the split second decision to bring ice cream back to the practice room where the rest of the band was waiting. He kicked the door open with vigor, his bandmates sprawled around the dim lit area.
“Everyone should thank your leader for having the idea to bring you all something cold,” He announced as he waded through the rug towards the other three.
It was rather a mess, with posters everywhere, no windows, and plush cushions and chairs on one side of the room. Their instruments were set up on the non-carpeted space with cables and extension cords in a mess of organized chaos. The only luminary source were the pink and purple string lights everywhere, painting the walls in an electric hue.
Yuma jumped out from one of the comfier spots, snaggletooth on display as he snatched the bag away from Nicholas, grabbing an ice cream and chucking the rest at Maki, who was sitting on the floor between Harua’s legs. The latter was sitting on a chair, precariously balancing a bottle of nail polish and a file on the arm rest.
“The man of the hour!” Maki crowed, rummaging through the ice treats to grab the two of them and toss the last one back at Nicholas.
“You didn’t get us the gig,” Harua noted, narrowed eyes smudged with make up staring at him. “Right?”
“Not this week, no,” He said easily, dropping onto one of the bean bags in the corner. “There’s always next week, we had a good run. It was bound to catch up with us eventually, when you think about it.”
“Your friends couldn’t help us out or something?” Yuma complained, sprawling across his lap like a contented cat instead of returning to his previous place. “Or did your Juju blink his eyes and make you give up our spot?”
Nicholas had half a mind to shove the younger off, settling on scowling and throwing his balled up wrapper at Maki’s head. Said boy had burst out laughing after Yuma had spoken, turning into quiet giggles after the ball of plastic bounced off his head.
“He was just leaving when I got there,” Nicholas grumbled. “It was a fair win, no eye-blinking needed.”
“If you say so,” Harua bit into his ice cream. “The others weren’t with him or anything, right?”
It was almost funny how the other two members leaned in after that, dropping the teasing under the pretense of concern.
“If I didn’t know you shits better, I would have thought you were worried about them ganging up on me.” he rolled his eyes, fingers running over one of the chains on his belt. “No, your victims were not present.”
“He’s not our victim,” Maki protested, while Yuma and Harua made noises of disappointment. “We’re gently appreciating Taki’s existence!”
“Flirting,” Harua corrected, pointing at him with the nail file.
“Speak for yourself,” Yuma grinned, snaggletooth biting into his bottom lip. “I think Jo’s scared of me.”
“And who wouldn’t be, really?” Nicholas said dryly, poking him in the stomach. “You’re going to drive them off and then we’ll never see any of them again.”
“Who says you aren’t doing the same thing?” Harua scoffed. “At least we’re straight-forward about what we want.”
“I don’t like him!” Nicholas groaned, sinking his head backwards into the cushion. “He hates me, in case you forgot.”
“No one said you did,” Maki sang. “You came to that conclusion all by yourself, Mr. Nico the Defensive.”
Yuma cackled, cut short when Nicholas rolled him off his lap and onto the floor. The other two snickered to themselves until Nicholas began to stand up.
“Because you can’t keep your big mouths shut, we’re going to practice.” He slung his guitar over his head and plucked one of the strings.
“You can’t force us, we can just leave,” Harua grumbled, screwing the nail polish that he hadn’t applied shut extra tight. Despite the grumbling from the other three, no one left and they all made their way towards their own instruments.
They were a rather dysfunctional group, but wasn’t every patchwork family?
It was only a few hours before they once again slumped back down onto the chairs, Nicholas shutting his eyes for a quick nap. Just as he felt the edges of sleep flaring up, he felt Maki poking him in the side.
“Nico~” He whispered into his ear. “You’re gonna want to see this.”
He groaned, sitting up. Harua and Yuma peered around his side curiously, both sporting newly painted nails.
“What could possibly be so-” His eyes landed on the screen, falling quiet as his eyes scanned the text.
Battle of the Bands. Cash Prizes, Opportunities to meet with producers, scouts, and more in the link above…
“It’s held by a legit company. The big one.” Maki gestured to the posters on the walls, legendary artists under the same label holding the competition.
“The prize alone could pay off our student debt,” Yuma whispered.
“Forget student debt, we could make it.” Nicholas stood up, holding the phone. “We could be up there with them.”
The room was silent as they took in the reality of it, the idea that the fantasy they all shared could become a dream, something possibly attainable.
“It was never the plan to be anything other than a bit more than what we are now,” Harua pointed out, looking hesitant.
“When have we ever followed a plan, really?” Their band leader looked around at their chaotic but cherished room. “It won’t hurt us to give it a shot. Even if we don’t make it, that's still more people who hear us.”
Every one of them had already agreed, It was only a matter of joining up.