Chapter Text
Seungmin is late. Again. He’s starting to suspect his alarm holds a personal grudge with how many times it's betrayed him this week. Waking up ten minutes before class isn’t new, but today it feels like the universe itself is against him. Toothpaste smears across his shirt. His short black hair sticks up in every direction. The laces of his shoes are tied in impossible knots. And to top it off, he yanks his backpack onto his shoulder, and papers scatter across the floor like confetti.
"Oh great. Just... great," he mutters under his breath, almost cupping his hands to his face.
When a morning is this bad, he usually just stays in. Thirty pairs of eyes boring into him as he walks into class half an hour late isn’t exactly his idea of a good time. He debates dumping everything on the floor and collapsing back onto his bed, pretending the lecture doesn’t exist, but then his phone buzzes, and that thought disappears instantly.
hey! saving you a seat btw
A message like this wouldn't usually sway him, but it’s from Jooyeon. Jooyeon, who he’s been trying, quietly and awkwardly, to get closer to this semester, and who now makes skipping class feel a lot less tempting.
He bites his lip at the message, checks the time—shit.
He bolts from the dorm, leaving the papers strewn across the floor, trying not to draw attention as he rushes to the bus stop. He’s no stranger to the unreliable schedule of the campus buses, but he prays that he’s earned enough good karma for at least one small miracle this morning.
His prayers are soon answered as a bus pulls up, crowded, but a bus nonetheless. He silently thanks God as he packs into the bus like a tin of sardines. He keeps an eye on the clock as the bus jerks forward, brakes abruptly, and sways with every sharp turn. His phone buzzes again. It’s Jungsu.
wya? me n jooyeon r here
He groans, typing back with one hand, the other clinging to the bus handle for dear life.
srry!! running late but omw
The bus jerks to a sudden stop, and he stumbles forward, nearly collapsing into the lap of the student in the seat beside him. He catches himself at the last second, face burning as he looks at the man.
“Sorry! Sorry–” Seungmin blurts, scrambling back upright.
The man looks up, calm as ever. “You good? I can swap with you. Might keep you from falling on anyone else.”
Seungmin huffs out a breath, still a little embarrassed. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna kick you out of your seat or anything.”
A small shrug. “I was getting off soon anyway.”
There’s a beat, then Seungmin nods. “…Okay. Thanks.”
They shift at the same time and the bus lurches again. Seungmin stumbles forward just as the man steps into the aisle, their timing completely off. A hand shoots out on instinct, grabbing onto Seungmin’s arm to steady him, but it only pulls them closer instead.
For a second, they’re too close. Seungmin’s breath catches, eyes widening slightly as he looks up, really looks at him this time. His tanned skin catches the glow of the morning light, hair messy where it falls into the frames of his glasses, slightly tilted on his face. There’s a faint crease between his brows from the sudden movement.
The man blinks too, like he hadn’t expected it either. Then the moment breaks.
He lets go almost immediately, clearing his throat as he steps back. “I think the bus hates you personally,” he mutters, half under his breath.
Seungmin lets out a short, awkward laugh, quickly sliding into the seat. “Yeah… starting to think that too.”
A silence stretches between them. Not uncomfortable exactly, but heavy in a way Seungmin can’t quite ignore. He becomes intensely aware of himself in it.
The way he’s sitting slightly too stiffly now, like his body forgot how to relax. The faint heat still lingering in his face. The fact that he’s looking anywhere except directly at the man, because looking would be way too embarrassing now.
The bus jerks again, metal groaning as it slows near the curb, the doors cranking open.
The man shifts first, grabbing the strap of his bag as he steadies himself. “That’s me,” he says simply, like it’s nothing important at all, stepping off before Seungmin can even think of a reply.
As soon as the man is off the bus, Seungmin’s body relaxes, huffing out a breath he didn't know he was holding in.
“It’s not even 10 and my day is already like this,” Seungmin sighs under his breath.
A few minutes later, the doors hiss open at his stop. He mutters a quick “thanks” to the driver as he slips off.
Campus is already buzzing. Students with coffee cups in hand weave through the walkways, earbuds in, backpacks bouncing against their sides. The smell of espresso drifts from the campus café, and he swears it’s taunting him. God, he could use one too. But there’s no time. Not unless he wants to be forty minutes late instead of thirty. He pushes past the café line with a pang of regret, jogging the last stretch to the lecture hall.
By the time he reaches the building, his chest is tight, breath shallow. He pauses outside the door, looking through the narrow glass window. He sees rows of students settled in, laptops open and screens glowing, the professor pacing at the front mid-lecture. His stomach twists. If he walks in now, every single head is going to turn.
His eyes scan the room and land on Jooyeon, leaning back in his chair with one arm draped over the seat beside him, clearly saving it. Jungsu sits next to him, head bent over his laptop, typing quickly. They’re sitting in the middle of a row. Not the easiest place to slip into unnoticed.
Taking a deep breath, he steps into the classroom. Every shuffle of his feet on the tile feels loud, like it’s echoing through the room. He can practically feel every pair of eyes on him, whether they’re actually looking or just in his imagination.
Jooyeon catches his attention and tilts his head slightly toward the empty seat beside him. Jungsu barely looks up from his laptop, typing as if nothing is happening.
He carefully makes his way down the row, murmuring quick, embarrassed apologies to the people he squeezes past. He reaches the seat, and Jooyeon quickly removes his arm to Seungmin’s dismay.
“Finally,” Jooyeon says, voice teasing but soft enough to not draw attention.
Sliding into the seat with a soft thud, Seungmin lowers his backpack onto the floor. “I don’t even wanna talk about it,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze flicks toward Jooyeon.
Jungsu glances up from his laptop, raising an eyebrow. “Rough morning, huh?”
Seungmin glares. “You think?”
A soft chuckle comes from Jooyeon, accompanied by a light pat on his back. “At least you’re here,” he says, tone teasing but gentle.
A small warmth lingers in Seungmin’s chest as he shifts in his seat. “Thanks for saving the seat,” he mutters quietly.
Jooyeon offers a soft smile in return, a silent “of course,” before leaning back and turning attention back to the lecture.
The minutes drag on. The professor drones on at the front, words blending into a monotonous hum that Seungmin can barely process. His eyes drift across the rows of students, most scribbling notes or typing away, but he can’t focus. Coming in thirty minutes late hasn’t exactly helped. He shifts in his seat, glancing at his phone under the desk. He scrolls absentmindedly, letting the lecture wash over him without really absorbing anything.
Then, a bright ad flashes across his screen. The campus café is promoting some ridiculous new seasonal drink—a triple-layer caramel cookie crumble frappé topped with whipped cream, chocolate drizzle, and a whole cookie wedged on the side of the cup like a garnish. The picture is so over the top it almost makes him roll his eyes, but the idea of caffeine still makes his mouth water.
He tilts his phone slightly toward the other two. “God, I could kill for some coffee right now. You guys wanna hit the café after this?” His tone is easy, like it’s no big deal, but his gaze lingers on Jooyeon a little longer than necessary.
Jungsu glances up from his laptop. “Honestly? Yeah. That looks insane, but I’ll take it.”
Jooyeon leans back, shaking his head with a faint smile. “Can’t. Band practice. You guys go ahead, though.”
Seungmin raises a brow. "You can't spare a few minutes for a drink?"
“You of all people should know how slow the campus buses can be. I’m not risking another scolding. Gunil runs practice like it’s the military when we have a gig," Jooyeon says, shivering slightly as if thinking about some impending doom.
A pang of disappointment twists in Seungmin’s chest, but before he can dwell on it, Jungsu finally stops typing, his curiosity piqued.
“I didn’t know you guys actually did gigs,” he says, a note of genuine interest in his voice.
Jooyeon leans forward slightly, a small grin tugging at his lips as he taps a finger against his notebook. “We’ve played a few shows, and Flatform invited us to perform Friday night.”
“Flatform? Really?” Seungmin asks, eyebrows raised, eyes widened. “I didn’t realize you guys were that big.”
A smirk spreads across Jungsu’s face. “Whoa, we’re in the presence of a celebrity,” he teases.
Soft laughter escapes Jooyeon, shaking his head. “Hardly a celebrity,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Just a few gigs here and there.”
Seungmin can’t help the grin tugging at his own face. “Flatform is kind of a big deal though, no need to be humble.”
A shrug accompanies Jooyeon’s smile, as if agreeing without words.
Leaning back with a mischievous glint in his eye, Jungsu jokes, “So… can we be your groupies or what?”
Jooyeon rolls his eyes, though a smile slips through anyway. After a beat, he adds, almost offhandedly, “Hey… you guys should come.”
Jungsu perks up immediately, grin widening. “Wait, seriously? Yeah, I’m down.”
Seungmin tries to mirror the same easy tone, leaning back in his seat. “Yeah, sounds fun.” His voice comes out calm enough, but there’s a faint buzz of excitement under the surface he can’t quite shake.
Jooyeon glances between them, a grin tugging at his lips. “Cool. I’ll send you the details later.”
The moment lingers just long enough to feel warm before it drifts back into the hum of the lecture. Jungsu refocuses on his laptop, fingers flying across the keys. Jooyeon leans back, eyes on the screen at the front of the room.
Seungmin stares down at his notebook, pen hovering, pretending to take notes. The words on the board blur together, a dull murmur filling the room. His mind keeps drifting back to Jooyeon, imagining him on stage, fingers brushing over the bass strings, the rest of the band weaving around him. He’s never heard him play or listened to their songs, yet that doesn’t stop him from imagining it in vivid detail.
The thought makes the lecture fade even further into the background. He wonders what Jooyeon’s playing style is like, whether it is steady and grounded or flashy and bold. Does he smile when he plays, or does he get lost in the music? He shakes his head subtly, trying to force himself back to the professor’s monotone voice. The image of the stage lingers in his mind, a quiet buzz of anticipation at the edge of his thoughts.
By the time the lecture ends, he's half-listened to the professor and half-ruminated on the Friday night gig. He tucks his notebook into his backpack, casting a quick glance at Jooyeon, who is already packing up with quiet efficiency.
“Hey, we still hitting the café?” Jungsu asks, slinging his laptop bag over his shoulder.
“Yeah, let’s go,” Seungmin replies, feeling a little lighter at the thought of coffee and the short walk there.
“Good luck at practice,” Seungmin calls toward Jooyeon.
"Let me know if that monstrosity of a drink lives up to the hype,” Jooyeon teases.
“Will do,” Seungmin says, feeling a small spark of warmth at the thought.
Friday evening, Jungsu is sprawled across Seungmin’s bed, watching him rifle through his closet like he’s on a mission. Seungmin pulls out a few shirts, holding them up and squinting at himself in the mirror. “Does this look… too casual?” he asks, tossing one onto the bed.
Propping his head on one hand, Jungsu smirks. “For a club gig? I think you’re fine. Unless you’re trying to impress someone.”
Seungmin freezes mid-motion, a faint pink creeping onto his cheeks. “Wha—no! Just…figuring out what fits the vibe better. They're a rock band, right? Gotta at least look like I belong there.”
A laugh escapes Jungsu as he sits up slightly. “Relax, you’re not auditioning to join the band. Just pick something and call it a day.”
“Says you. Look at how you’re dressed,” Seungmin shoots back, eyeing him. “Leather, silver jewelry, boots… you’re basically a rock god.”
One eyebrow tilts in challenge. “I’d love to know what your definition of rock is,” Jungsu teases.
Seungmin ignores the comment, finally settling on an outfit. He puts it on and checks himself in the mirror, already second-guessing his choices.
Jungsu glances over, taking in the look. A slim black sleeveless top zipped halfway, teasing the top of his chest, paired with wide black pants cinched with a studded belt, a chain dangling casually at his side, completed with leather boots and carefully placed silver accessories.
Eyes narrow, a smirk forming. “Oh, you are trying to impress someone. There’s no other explanation for this,” Jungsu remarks, lifting slightly off the bed.
Huffing, Seungmin pretends to be annoyed, a faint pink still on his cheeks. “Come on, let’s try to get close to the stage so Jooyeon can see us.”
A teasing grin spreads across Jungsu’s face as he pushes off the bed. “So… you want Jooyeon to see you, huh?”
Seungmin stiffens, wide-eyed.
“I should’ve known, the way you act when—” Jungsu starts, smirk deepening.
Hands shoot up to cover his mouth. “It’s not like that, come on!” Panic flickers across Seungmin’s face.
The grin only widens, Jungsu clearly enjoying the flustered reaction. Slowly, Seungmin lowers his hands, still cautious, as Jungsu keeps that teasing expression fixed. Without a word, he strides toward the door, leaving Seungmin to follow, shaking off the lingering embarrassment.
Flatform is a well-known club right in the heart of the city. Its futuristic, sleek design makes it impossible to ignore, attracting people from all over. It's no wonder, then, that the line is already wrapping around the corner when Seungmin and Jungsu arrive.
“Think if we say we know the performer, they’ll let us skip the line?” Jungsu asks, leaning on the railing and scanning the crowd.
An eyebrow raises. “Is that even allowed?” Seungmin asks, skepticism in his tone.
A smirk spreads across Jungsu’s face as he pulls out his phone. “Only one way to find out. Worst case, we’re stuck in line like normal people," he shrugs.
A few moments later, Jungsu’s phone buzzes. He glances at it, grinning. "Looks like we’re good. One of the band members is gonna get us in.”
Seungmin blinks in disbelief. “Wait… that actually worked?”
Jungsu laughs, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Yeah. He said Jiseok would come out. One of the guitarists I think?”
Almost immediately, a short man with blond hair emerges from the club doors, giving the bouncer a quick word before heading toward Seungmin and Jungsu. He practically bounces with energy, a bright grin plastered across his face.
Seungmin’s eyes sweep over the man, taking in every detail. A cropped hoodie sits over a tank top, layered belts hug his waist, and ripped denim shorts end just above platform shoes that meet with leg warmers. Accessories jingle subtly with every step, completely matching the energy of the man standing before him.
Seungmin glances at Jungsu, biting back a smile, trying not to show how amused he is as he notices Jungsu’s eyes brighten the moment they land on the ball of energy.
Reaching them, he waves energetically. “Hey! You must be Jungsu and Seungmin, right? I’m Jiseok.” His grin is wide and infectious, impossible not to mirror.
“Yeah, that’s us,” Jungsu replies easily, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets.
Seungmin nods in gratitude. “Thanks for coming out to get us.”
"Of course. Friends of Jooyeon are friends of mine," Jiseok says with a bright smile, already gesturing toward the door as he turns on his heel. "C’mon, I’ll get you guys past the line.”
Trailing after him, they immediately feel the stares from the crowd still waiting. Curious, annoyed, and more than a few downright envious eyes follow their path.
Jiseok spins around, a playful grin on his face. “Gotta say, with those outfits, people might start thinking you’re in the band,” he jokes, bouncing slightly on his heels.
Tilting his head, Jungsu smirks. “So… that’s a compliment, right?”
Jiseok laughs, nodding without hesitation. “It is. Definitely.”
The two share a smile that lingers a beat too long. Seungmin glances between them, lips pressing together as he pretends not to notice, though the amusement flickering in his eyes betrays him.
Shaking his head with a laugh, Jiseok breaks the moment. “Alright, go enjoy yourselves for now. I’ll catch you out there.” He gives a playful salute, but in his distracted shuffle toward the backstage door, he bumps into the frame. He chuckles, brushes himself off, and keeps moving, grin still wide and infectious.
A faint chuckle escapes Jungsu as he watches the shorter man slip away.
Seungmin grins, opening his mouth to comment, but a finger shoots up, halting him. “Nope. You didn’t let me say anything about Jooyeon earlier.”
He falls quiet, scratching the back of his neck. “Well…” he mutters, voice trailing off, caught between saying something and saying nothing at all.
Laughter bubbles from Jungsu as he gives Seungmin a light pat on the back. “Relax, I’m just joking. Let’s go get a drink at the bar,” he says, nodding toward the sleek, neon-lit counter along the side of the club, stocked with rows of colorful bottles glowing under soft, pulsating lights.
Bodies shift around them as he starts weaving through the crowd, the bass thumping in time with the flashing lights. Seungmin follows close behind, trying not to trip over the occasional dancing feet or spilled drink.
The scent of syrupy cocktails and leather fills the air, mixing with the faint tang of smoke and perfume. Each step brings them closer to the bar, the neon reflections bouncing off the polished floor and painting streaks across their faces.
Jungsu slides onto a high stool and, without a word, signals the bartender. Within seconds, two towering cocktails, ridiculous in every way, with whipped cream, neon-colored syrups, and tiny umbrellas perched on top, are already being set down in front of them.
Seungmin blinks, mouth slightly open. “You… didn’t even ask me what I wanted.”
“Why come to a popular bar if you’re not even gonna get their specialty drinks?” Jungsu says, shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Seungmin takes a sip of the sugary concoction, eyebrows shooting up at the overwhelming sweetness, his tongue recoiling slightly before he swallows. The flavors are bold and chaotic, almost ridiculous, but somehow perfectly suited to the neon-lit chaos of the club.
He takes the chance to look around. The club is a chaotic swirl of colors and motion, the walls lined with geometric LED panels that pulse in time with the heavy bass. Smoke drifts lazily through the air, catching the lights and turning the beams into shimmering ribbons that slice through the crowd. People cluster in pockets around the room, some swaying gently, others letting loose entirely, their laughter and shouts mingling with the music.
He spots the stage where Jooyeon’s band is set to perform, a raised platform framed by jagged neon lights and a backdrop of rotating visuals that shift from abstract patterns to stark, glitchy graphics. The instruments are set up neatly, gleaming under the club lights. He downs the rest of his drink, almost regretting it, and yanks Jungsu toward the stage.
“Hey! My drink!” Jungsu blurts, quickly grabbing it off the counter before he’s fully pulled away.
Seungmin tugs Jungsu a few steps closer to the stage, weaving between small clusters of people. “Come on, we need a good spot,” he shouts over the pounding bass.
“They’re not even starting yet,” Jungsu says, taking a careful sip from his drink, eyes scanning the stage.
“Exactly,” Seungmin replies, grinning. “Better we’re here now than later. You want a good spot, you’ve gotta claim it early.”
“Wow, Mr. Earlybird, all this effort just to get on Jooyeon’s good side?” Jungsu teases, nudging Seungmin lightly in the side.
Seungmin is about to fire back with a reply when a burst of screams cuts him off, a group of girls pushing past as they try to get closer to the stage. He looks back, eyes following the steady trickle of people heading toward the stage, a small pulse of anticipation stirring in his chest. He notices that most of the people around him are here only to see the band. Small groups huddle together, whispering about favorite songs, while others snap selfies and laugh, eager for the performance to start. A warm sense of pride spreads through him, knowing his friend’s hard work is being recognized.
Just then, the lights switch to a solid red hue, drawing attention to the stage. The backdrop shifts, unveiling the band’s logo, a stylized ‘X’ with an ‘H’ cleverly concealed in one of its sharp strokes.
Cheers erupt from the crowd, loud and electric, rolling through the room like a wave. Hands clap, voices shout, and the energy of the audience seems to shake the very air, echoing Seungmin’s own racing heartbeat.
Jooyeon then steps onto the stage, drawing an even louder response from the crowd. The red lights wash over his face, shadows tracing the sharp angles of his features, making him look almost larger than life.
He spreads his arms wide, commanding the audience, basking in the cheers with an undeniable confidence that fills the room.
One by one, the other three members appear, each met with their own surge of applause. They move onto the stage with ease, their presence amplifying Jooyeon’s strong, assured stance and filling the room with anticipation.
Jiseok catches sight of the pair in front of the stage and throws them a quick wave, a small grin spreading across his face, then nudges Jooyeon’s attention toward them, motioning for him to see. Jooyeon’s eyes follow Jiseok’s gesture, landing on Jungsu and Seungmin, and a small smirk spreads across his face.
Seungmin’s heart skips a beat. On stage, Jooyeon is a completely different person, radiating confidence and energy that makes him almost unrecognizable. The fact that he’s wearing clothes Seungmin never imagined Jooyeon would choose for himself only makes it harder to focus. He’s dressed in a black mesh sweater, ripped in places to reveal glimpses of skin beneath, paired with dark-washed jeans that flare dramatically over his boots, each detail amplifying the bold, edgy presence he commands. His long, voluminous hair flows freely around his face and shoulders, catching the red stage lights and making him even more impossible to look away from.
Without a word, the band launches into a song, unfamiliar to him, yet Seungmin finds himself cheering anyway, as if he’s been waiting to hear it his entire life.
Jooyeon leans into the bass, hands moving with fluid precision. His head swings wildly, hair brushing his shoulders as the red lights catch every strand. With a daring grin, he sticks his tongue out at the crowd, each motion charged with intensity. Then he starts singing, and Seungmin feels it hit him like a jolt. His voice, strong and confident, cuts through the roar of the crowd, raw and magnetic, wrapping around and pulling Seungmin in completely.
A few songs pass, the set moving forward almost effortlessly, time slipping by unnoticed as the music fills the room. The trance is broken when the instruments suddenly quiet, leaving only the guitar and drums pounding through the space. Jiseok cuts in mid-song, grinning as he gestures toward the other side of the stage. “And here’s our sexy guitarist!” he announces, earning a roar of approval from the crowd.
As a guitar solo erupts, Seungmin’s gaze locks onto the stage, completely captivated. If Jooyeon is a different person on stage, this guitarist feels like an entirely separate being. His fingers fly over the fretboard with effortless precision, each note slicing through the air. Seungmin has never appreciated the instrument or any musician more.
Before, the man’s presence hadn’t stood out as much, lost among the human embodiments of energy and confidence on stage. But now, alone in the spotlight, he commanded all eyes on him. It was as if each note poured directly from his body into the world, wrapping around everyone in the room.
The guitarist’s hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail, strands escaping to frame his features. The red lights spill over him, but they don’t wash him out. His skin still holds a warm tone, something golden that cuts through the haze like it refuses to be dulled. He wears an oversized band tee layered over a striped long-sleeve shirt, the sleeves rolled slightly, paired with ripped jeans and scuffed high-top sneakers. A chain glints at his neck, catching the stage lights, each detail enhancing his effortless, captivating presence.
Stepping closer to the edge of the stage, the guitarist flashes a sharp, teasing smile that feels almost familiar. Seungmin feels completely pulled in by the solo, every note and movement leaving him spellbound. His chest tightens, his head swims, finally understanding why people get lost in concerts, swept away by the raw, intoxicating presence of a true performer.
For the rest of the set, Seungmin focuses entirely on the guitarist, how he silently dominates the stage, every movement purposeful, every note speaking louder than words and pulling the audience deeper into his orbit.
The set comes to an end, the last chords fading into the roar of the crowd. Seungmin feels almost weightless, still adrift in the wake of the music, until Jungsu’s hand lands on his shoulder, grounding him and pulling him back to reality.
“Front of the stage was definitely a good idea,” Jungsu says, grinning as he glances around, hair slightly mussed from the excitement, eyes bright with energy. He practically vibrates with the thrill of the performance, a stark contrast to Seungmin’s stunned, almost breathless state.
As the band starts to clear the stage, the cheers still ringing, the guitarist steps forward instead. His gaze lands on Seungmin and stays there. Seungmin’s breath catches. The guitarist crouches at the edge of the stage, close enough now that the distance feels… wrong. Too close. Too intentional.
Before Seungmin can react, his hand is being taken, warm and steady. Something small is pressed into his palm.
A guitar pick.
The touch lingers for half a second too long.
“Didn’t know you were a fan,” he says, a faint smile pulling at his lips, familiar in a way that makes Seungmin’s chest twist.
And then he’s gone. Just like that.
The noise rushes back in all at once, but Seungmin barely hears it, staring down at the pick still warm in his hand.
“You know him?” Jungsu asks, curiosity and surprise threading through his voice as he glances at Seungmin.
Seungmin swallows hard, still dazed, and finally whispers, “I… I don’t think so,” his grip tightening slightly on the pick.