#their dynamic is making me more emo as I go | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hopelesslygaysstuff · 26 days ago

Text

𝑇𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑀𝑒

pairing: wanda maximoff x transfem!reader

summary: Emo Wanda loses her virginity, and you're the best partner ever.

content warnings: reader has a penis, handjob, sex, finger sucking, light choking, condoms, power dynamics if you squint

word count: 4k+

masterlist

“I want to touch you.”

You look up at the words, blinking slightly as you set your book aside. Your head is in Wanda’s lap, the fingers running through your hair stopping as you give her your full attention.

“What brought this on?” You ask, sitting up and facing her. “I’m flattered, don’t get me wrong, but I know you wanted to take things slow since it would be your first time and everything.”

Wanda’s green eyes look down at her lap for a moment before she casually throws her hair over her shoulder, shrugging. You see her feigned nonchalance for the vulnerability that it is but decide not to comment on it, instead taking her ring-clad fingers in your own and intertwining your hands.

“Do you want me to touch you while you’re touching me?”

“No.” Wanda’s eyes cut toward you, her thick eyeliner somehow still in place even after an entire day of classes. “I’ll get distracted if you touch me, and besides, I want to touch you without there being an expectation of receiving anything in return.”

You nod, shifting your weight on the couch. “I’ll sit on your lap then?”

Wanda takes a deep breath, her hands already reaching for your waist. She helps you onto her lap, moving her hips until she’s comfortable with your eight sitting on top of her. She can feel the warmth from your crotch, your slight bulge making her mouth water.

Fuck, she’s already wet.

Clearing her throat, Wanda tries to force her blush down, her face feeling hot. Her hands move your arms to your sides, squeezing your wrists gently before releasing. You don’t move them, so she takes it as a sign to continue.

She doesn’t know what to do.

“Here,” you murmur. “Let me help get you started.”

Wanda’s hands barely graze your skin, her fingers hesitant as you pull your shirt off. Wrapping her hands around your waist, she watches you pull the fabric over your head. She can’t help but let out a small gasp as your red lacy bra is revealed.

“It’s your favorite color,” you murmur, a small smile on your lips as you watch her. Your thighs straddle hers, your arms loose at your sides as you sit on her lap.

“It is,” Wanda says, her fingers tightening around your waist for a moment before she waves them, red wisps shooting toward the light switch. The room is plunged into darkness before a single lamp clicks on and washes your body with soft, warm light.

Wanda’s fingers are slightly hesitant as she bites her lip, her eyes roaming your body. You wonder where she’s going to begin touching you, your waist perhaps? Or maybe your chest, where she can already see your nipples hardening under your bra.

Gentle fingers stroke your cheeks, her hands cupping your face. You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of her fingertips roaming your features. She traces a line down your cheeks and under your jaw, over your nose and eyebrows. Softly, she traces your lips, pausing on the corners when you smile slightly. Her hands resume moving up your face and across your temples before carding through your hair and tucking it slightly behind your ears.

Sometimes, Wanda wonders how she got so lucky with you. She’s never been the relationship type or the type for any sort of affection in general. But then you showed up, tipsy at a frat party with your backward hat and warm eyes, and that stupid, blinding smile of yours. Wanda had pushed you away at first, keeping you at a distance even as she found herself hanging out with you more than her own brother. But somehow, you managed to always wiggle your way back into her life and over her walls.

Occasionally, Wanda will glance over at you when she thinks you aren’t looking. She’ll think about all the ways her hard, jagged edges should hurt you and your soft heart. But that hadn’t stopped you from mockingly getting down on one knee and presenting her with a cherry ring pop (her favorite kind, you always paid attention to every small detail about her) and asking her to be your girlfriend.

“Hey,” you whisper, leaning in slightly. “Where did your head go?”

Wanda blinks, her hands still buried in your hair. She moves them back to your face, stroking your cheeks as she lets out a rare smile. It’s soft, and not at all jagged. “Just thinking about you.”

“Aww, you have a crush on me so bad,” you tease, your eyes crinkling in the corners in that way Wanda loves.

“Shut up,” she says, but there isn’t any heat behind her words, her fingers trailing down your jaw. “Is this okay?”

You know what she means, even if she’ll never say it out loud. Wanda will never admit just how scared she is of disappointing you. Not that she ever could. “It’s more than okay, baby. Take your time. I’m enjoying your hands on me.”

“I bet you are.”

Wanda doesn’t say anything else, something in her eyes shifting as she runs her fingers down your neck. She pauses when she feels your heartbeat, the blood racing through your veins. It rushes beneath her fingertips, under your warm skin as it keeps you alive. She suddenly felt her own chest ache for a moment, knowing that she could feel the very essence of you under her fingers.

“Can I use my mouth?”

Your chest heaves at the question, and Wanda can’t help but glance down. “Fuck yes, you can, Wanda.”

Wanda’s hands resume their movements, slowly running down your neck as her eyes lock on the way you tilt your head back. Your collarbones are sharp, and Wanda runs her fingers over them before gently pressing her thumbs into the dip in your skin where they meet your neck.

A low moan grumbles in your throat, your bottom lip snagged on your teeth. Your eyes are closed, and Wanda feels something relax inside her. She loves your eyes, and how piercing they are, but right now it’s nice to not be observed. She also loves that you’re relaxed enough to trust her like this, to close your eyes and let her do whatever she wants. It should be daunting, but instead, it’s fucking exhilarating. Wanda surges forward.

Pressing her lips against your neck, she drags her tongue across the spot where she can feel your blood pumping wildly. You smell good, like warm bread and honey. Wanda loves it. Sometimes, she steals your clothes just so she can bury her nose in them and feel you while you’re away. Not that she’ll ever admit that. You never seem to run out of sweaters, though.

Dragging her nose up your neck, Wanda explores the side of your throat with her lips and tongue, relishing in the small sounds and gasps escaping your lips. Her other hand dances around the base of your neck, not applying any pressure, just touching your soft skin and memorizing every curve and bump.

Her kisses turn heated, her breaths picking up as she marks your skin. She loves the way you squirm on her lap, the tent in your pants obvious as she works your body up. Your hands are still at your sides, your fingers fisting the fabric of Wanda’s ripped jeans.

“Fuck, Wanda,” you breathe.

“I know,” she murmurs into your neck, inhaling your scent before moving to the other side and marking that up too.

You’re grinding in her lap now, soft whimpers sounding out as you try to maintain some composure. It’s not working very well. The sensation of Wanda’s lips against your neck feels like liquid pleasure running through your veins.

She pulls away, but before you can really complain about it, her lips are crashing down on yours like it's the only thing she’s ever wanted to do. Her hands cradle the back of your head, her tongue licking against your lips until you finally part yours. Her lips refuse to part from yours, her body leaning into yours as she kisses you. It leaves you breathless in a perfect sort of way.

Your chests heave in tandem, the need for air winning as your lips part. Wanda rests her forehead against yours, her hands tracing down your neck to rest on your shoulders.

Meeting your gaze, Wanda smiles at the heat in your eyes. “I’ve still got more of you to touch,” she reminds you, gently running her hands down your arms until she reaches your hands. She lets her gaze drop, pulling one of your hands into the space between your bodies, her fingers gently tracing yours.

Wanda loves your fingers. They’re dainty and long, with your fingernails cut short but polished beautifully. She loves the contrast of her silver rings and chipped black nail polish to your thin gold rings and well-maintained cuticles.

Slowly, she brings your hand up, tracing her lips with the fingertip of your forefinger. Your breath hitches, your gaze locked on your hand. Wanda parts her lips and gently sucks two of your fingers into her mouth, her tongue warm and strong as she watches your eyes darken. Your hips are moving slightly, soft breaths hitting her face as you pant.

“You like sucking my fingers, baby?” you ask, your voice low.

Wanda nods.

“You’re very good at it,” you murmur, licking your lips as your eyes glance between the fingers in her mouth and her piercing gaze.

Smirking, Wanda gives your fingers one last suck before slowly pulling them from her mouth. They glisten slightly, as you feel yourself throb at the sight, your breath slightly shaky. Wanda gently guides your hand back to your side, her palms running up your arms.

Now she’s moving quicker, her bottom lip snagged on her teeth as she looks down at your chest. Her fingers trace the straps of your bra, rubbing over the fabric until she cups your breasts in her hands. Lightly, she runs her thumbs over your hardened nipples poking through the fabric.

You gasp and arch your back slightly, pushing your chest further into her hands.

Smirking, Wanda runs her thumbs over your nipples again, loving the small sounds she’s pulling from you. Her hands move slightly until she’s able to pinch your nipples between her thumb and forefinger, your small whines turning into low moans.

“Take it off,” you plead. “Baby, please take it off. I need to feel you.”

Well, Wanda can’t say no to that. She’s never been good at denying pretty women anything. And you’re the prettiest woman she’s ever seen, so she reaches around your back and quickly unsnaps your bra, sliding it down your arms and placing it on the couch.

Your nipples are achingly hard, your breasts soft and perfect underneath her palms. Taking a few steadying breaths, you watch Wanda’s face as she gently rolls your nipples between her fingers, her eyes glancing up at yours for a reaction.

God, you already look ruined. Your eyes are slightly glassy, your lips swollen from the kiss and parted as you pant. Your cheeks are flushed and your pupils are so dilated that Wanda can barely see the color of your irises. It’s a picture of beauty.

“You look so pretty like this,” Wanda whispers, tugging on your nipples and feeling arousal shoot through her at your responding moan.

“I should have known you’d like your girls all desperate and needy,” you manage to say, Wanda’s hands kneading your breasts as her thumbs swipe over your nipples.

“No.” Wanda smiles, “I only like you all desperate and needy. It’s a good look on you, I’ll have to make it happen more often.”

You nod, agreeing with her. You typically were the more dominant person in your relationships, but something about Wanda made you want to cave to her every word. Sure, there were times when all you wanted to do was pin her down and fuck her until she couldn’t think straight, but now that the tables were turned, you didn’t mind.

This was Wanda’s night. She got to do whatever she wanted to you, and you were more than happy with that. Her comfort was always your first priority, and you wanted her to lose her virginity the way she wanted to.

“Stand up.” Wanda breathes, her hands slithering down to your waist. Her fingers break the waistband of your sweatpants, and she looks you dead in the eye. “I want these off.”

You’re quick to comply, your erection throbbing and begging to be set free. It’s a bit awkward, but Wanda doesn’t seem to mind your clumsy actions as you stand and pull your pants and underwear down. The fabric tangles around your ankles, and you hold her shoulder for balance as you pull them all the way off.

It would feel weird to be completely nude while Wanda was clothed, but you don’t feel awkward once you see her hungry eyes locked on your cock.

“Can I touch it?” she asks, glancing up at you.

“Of course, baby,” you murmur, sitting back down on her lap and straddling her. Your hands go back down to your sides, your cock standing up proudly between you two. “Take your time.”

Wanda smiles softly at you. She knows this is a vulnerable moment, and she thanks you for trusting her with a small, passionate kiss.

Pulling back, Wanda brings her fingers up to the tip of your cock. She gently rubs her thumb through the precum gathering, loving the way your breathing changes at each touch. She finds a sensitive spot just underneath the tip that has you gasping, your cock jumping slightly. She wants to find more spots just like that and she wants to drive you mad with need.

With confidence from your small gasps and moans, Wanda wraps her hand fully around you, feeling how hard you are. You moan at the action, your hips jerking before you force yourself to remain still. It’s hard to not fuck yourself against Wanda’s hand, but somehow you resist the urge.

“Start moving your hand, baby,” you whisper, your eyes dark as you look at her. She smiles at you, maintaining eye contact as she slowly pumps your length in her hand.

It’s agonizing and so fucking perfect.

You throw your head back, moaning as she jerks you off. Her rings against you feel amazing, providing a rough sensation that has you leaking down your shaft. Your precum coats your length as she continues to slowly move her hand up and down, watching your reactions closely. She can feel you throb under her palm when her rings graze your tip, so she does it a few more times just to hear you moan.

Wanda moves her free hand to your chest. Her movements become slightly rough, her fingers digging into your skin as she squeezes your breast. You moan and arch your back again, your hands gripping her knees behind you tightly. She pumps her hand quicker, enjoying the broken gasps and whines as you subconsciously thrust your hips.

“Do you have condoms?” Wanda asks urgently. Her hands are suddenly everywhere, pushing you down onto the couch until your back hits the cushion. She keeps pumping your shaft even as she begins to stand, your hands flying to her waist as you make a noise of protest.

“Yeah, they’re in the drawer next to my bed,” you say, watching her lean down toward you. Her lips press quickly against yours before she pulls back.

“I’ll be right back,” she promises, before she’s dashing up the stairs and out of sight.

You would laugh at her eagerness, but you’re still rock hard and throbbing at the thought of feeling her around you. Gently, you lazily stroke yourself as you wait for her, your other hand rolling and twisting a nipple between your fingers.

“Okay, I got one,” Wanda’s voice sounds out, and you smile as she enters the room again. Her cheeks are slightly flushed and she’s holding a condom in one hand, and a bottle of lube in the other.

“I don’t think I’ll need this,” she says, setting the lube on the floor and tossing the condom onto your stomach. You throb at the implication, taking a steadying breath. “But, it never hurts to be safe, right?”

Her green eyes peer at you for confirmation, and you nod quickly. “That’s perfect, baby.”

Wanda smiles widely at you, tucking her hair behind her ears slightly as she stands next to the couch, her eyes nervously roaming your body. You can tell that she needs some guidance, so you reach out a hand and pull her in by her studded belt.

“Take your clothes off, Wanda,” you murmur. “I want you to strip for me.”

Nodding, Wanda slowly pulls her shirt off, smirking at the way your eyes lock on her chest. She unclips her bra impatiently, throwing it on the ground before cupping her chest and tilting her head. “Like what you see?”

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, stroking yourself a little faster at the sight. “Keep going, baby.”

Wanda smirks. “Hands off.”

Your eyes snap to hers, and you slowly let go of your length. Your cock rests on your stomach, throbbing with arousal as Wanda bites her lip at the needy look in your eyes.

Slowly, she hooks her thumbs into her ripped jeans, pulling everything off in one motion. You see that she shaved, her inner thighs glistening with her arousal as she takes a deep breath and steps closer to you.

“You look beautiful, Wanda.” You say earnestly. “I mean it. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my whole life. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Oh, shush,” Wanda says, but you can tell that she’s pleased.

You pat your thighs, purposefully not touching your cock like she asked -commanded, more like- you not to. “Sit here, baby. I’ll show you how to put a condom on.”

“What is this, health class?” Wanda teases, but she straddles your thighs all the same. You can feel the warmth from her core right next to your cock, but you ignore your arousal as she takes you in her hands.

Ripping the packaging, you open the condom and show her the little nub that’s sticking out. “It goes on like this,” you say, putting it over your tip and pinching the nub. “Then you just kind of roll it down until it’s fully covering everything.”

Wanda watches with rapt attention as you gently use your thumb and forefinger to pull the condom down around your length. Once it’s fully on, you release the nub and smile up at her, making some last adjustments to the condom. “That’s all there is to it.”

“Cool,” Wanda nods, biting her lip. There’s a beat of silence before she locks her gaze with yours. Her eyes are dark again. “I’m going to ride you until you cum in this condom, and then I’m going to keep going until I cum.”

She leans down, smirking. “And you’re not allowed to touch.”

“Fuck,” you manage, before she’s lifting herself up slightly and lining your tip up with her soaked entrance. “Take your time, baby. Focus on what feels good for you, I’ll be enjoying it any way you want it.”

Wanda smiles at you briefly before she’s bracing herself with her hands squeezing your breasts and slowly lowering herself onto your cock.

She only takes your tip in, but it’s absolute heaven. Her soft moans reach your ears, her hands squeezing your breasts tightly as she gets used to the feeling. She feels amazing, your tip surrounded by her wet heat. You resist the urge to thrust up, keeping yourself still as you put your arms up and grip the couch arm behind you.

“Good job,” you pant, your eyes warm as you look up at her. “You’re doing just a good job, Wanda. You feel amazing, baby.”

Wanda’s eyes glaze over slightly at your words, and she lets out a whimper of pleasure as she lowers herself further onto your length. This time, she keeps going until she’s fully seated on your cock.

“Oh, fuck,” she says, her voice high and breathy. Her cheeks are flushed, her hands gripping you tightly. “You feel so fucking good, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth to say something, but Wanda is quicker. She shoves two of her fingers in your mouth, smirking at your muffled gasp of surprise. “Suck.”

Obeying, you suck her fingers as she begins to lift her hips up, your tip dragging along her walls in the best way possible. She fucks herself with your cock, starting slow before she finds a rhythm. Once she finds it, you’re a moaning mess.

The wet sounds of her pussy sound out, her ass meeting your hips as she fucks herself. Your eyes are closed, your fingers cramping from how hard you’re gripping the couch arm. Wanda stops occasionally, fully seated on your cock, grinding her clit into your pelvis as she moans.

“You feel so fucking good,” she gasps out, pulling her fingers from your mouth and gently wrapping them around your throat. You cum right then, your strangled moans sounding out as you feel yourself cumming into the condom. You squeeze your thighs tight as your eyes shoot open, Wanda’s flushed cheeks and wide eyes staring at you. “Does it feel good to fuck me, baby?”

“Yes,” you moan out, her hips moving faster as she nears her orgasm. “Fuck baby, you feel so good around my cock. It’s perfect… you’re perfect. Holy shit, I feel so good right now, Wanda. You’re making me feel so fucking good.”

Wanda’s hips stutter, and she keeps milking your cock, the pleasure overwhelming as she fully seats herself on your length. She grinds roughly, her other hand moving from your chest to her clit as she rubs fast circles. Her pussy walls spasm, then tighten in the most pleasurable way possible as her orgasm washes over her.

Your cock is overstimulated, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Wanda is writhing slightly on top of you, her fingers squeezing every drop of pleasure from her clit as she rubs it gently. Her other hand releases your throat and gently trails down your sternum as she steadies herself.

“That was…” Wanda opens her eyes, looking down at you with a lazy smile. “That was fucking amazing.”

She bites her lip, suddenly shy. You take that as permission to move your hands, and you sit up slightly as you cup her cheeks.

“You were amazing, Wanda,” you say, kissing her softly. “I loved every second of that.”

“You were pretty amazing too,” Wanda murmurs, rolling her hips. Your cock throbs slightly, semi-hard and still buried inside her. “You followed my orders like the good girl you are.”

You smirk, your length hardening again. “Keep talking like that, and we’ll never make it to the shower.”

Wanda giggles, kissing you again. Her lips are soft and insistent, her tongue grazing your bottom lip before she sucks it between her teeth. Pulling away, she releases your lip as you groan, your cock almost fully hard again.

“Next,” she murmurs, shyly running her hands over your shoulders. “I want to try sucking you off.”

You groan dramatically, throwing your head back as Wanda erupts into chuckles. “You’re going to kill me, woman,” you gasp out, theatrically clutching your chest.

“Yeah,” Wanda shrugs, her eyes glinting. “But you’d probably find that hot too.”

Smiling, you lean in and kiss her again. This time it’s lingering. You pour your emotions into the kiss, hoping Wanda understands just how happy you are that she trusted you with her first time.

“I love you.” You lean in and kiss her one last time, just for good measure.

“Sap,” Wanda teases, biting her lip and wrapping her arms around your neck.

“You love it.”

“Yeah,” she smiles. “I do.”

---

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chvoswxtch · 10 months ago

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a little more time

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you're starting to question just how much patience you have left for frank.

warnings: swearing, frank getting ganged up on by our latest dynamic duo, more angst than an early 2000s emo playlist

word count: 3k

a/n: & here is the second half of this week's double drop. enjoy the calm while it lasts, bc the storm is right around the corner. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Frank raised his right fist to knock three times against an apartment door labeled 6F. The person who the apartment belonged to was still a mystery to you. Neither you or Frank had spoken a single word to each other the entire short drive over. Instead, you’d sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed tightly over your chest, glaring out the window.

A minute later, the sound of a lock twisting broke the tense silence, and the front door was opened. A tall man stood in the doorway, his dark brown eyes wandering over Frank from head to toe and back up again. He was somewhat obstructed from your view since Frank was standing right in front of you, but you saw the way his full lips pursed in lighthearted disapproval before he lightly smacked them.

“Aw, shit.”

“Good to see you too, Curt.”

“Wish I could say the same. You know, most friends do normal shit. Go fishin’ down in Florida, maybe golf or somethin’, but you, you’re always draggin’ me into some bullshit. So what kinda trouble you bringin’ me now, Frank?”

“Told ya I needed you to look after somethin’ while I was gone for a bit.”

The man wore a light gray long sleeved henley, and the top of three buttons was undone. The waffle knit fabric stretched tightly over his biceps when he crossed his arms over his chest, lifting one of his dark brows in question with a look of suspicion on his face.

“Yeah, you didn’t say what though.”

Frank finally stepped aside, and the man fully came into view before you. When his dark brown eyes landed on your figure, an expression of surprise softened his skepticism. His onyx brows lifted in a show of disbelief as he glanced between you and Frank, giving him a pointed look.

“She’s with you?”

“Yeah. Curt, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Curtis.”

Looking up at Curtis, you did your best to give him a polite smile along with a faint nod of your head.

“It’s nice to meet you, Curtis. Frank’s told me nothing about you.”

“Well that makes two of us.”

Indents of puzzlement creased along his forehead and without another word, Curtis reached his right hand out to wave his palm back and forth in front of your face, which took you by surprise and made your brows knit in curiosity while you blinked a few times. Frank looked at Curtis inquisitively.

“The hell you doin’?”

“Just checkin’ to see if she was blind.”

“Why?”

Turning his head to look at Frank again, Curtis looked him up and down once more with an expression of dubiety.

“Couldn’t think of another logical explanation of what the hell she was doin’ wit’cho ugly ass.”

Blowing a puff of air past his lips, Frank shook his head and turned to glance around to his left. Meanwhile, you had to cover your mouth to stifle the laugh that Curtis conjured with his quick response. Shaking his head, Curtis reached out to take your bag from you, stepping aside and gesturing for you to come inside, all the while side-eying Frank.

“Could’ve at least carried her bag for her, damn.”

Frank looked genuinely offended by the implied accusation that he hadn’t even attempted to be a gentleman, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop from smiling at the way he scrunched up his face in defense.

“She wouldn’t let me.”

“Mhm.”

Curtis’ apartment was modest and simple, not overly decked out in furniture and decor, but definitely more homely than Frank’s. It felt awkward standing in the middle of a stranger’s living room that you had just met, knowing that you were supposed to be staying here for a few days. That thought had something from Frank and Curtis’ exchange suddenly sticking out in your mind.

Frank had told Curtis he needed him to keep an eye on something, not someone.

Turning around to face them, your narrowed gaze landed on Frank and creases of irritation swiftly knit between your brows.

“You didn’t tell him that I was coming, did you?”

Both men’s heads snapped in your direction when you spoke. Curtis glanced between the two of you with a comical look on his features as he picked up on the fact that Frank seemed to be in trouble with you. It was evident how hard he was trying to suppress a smirk. Frank on the other hand turned to face you fully, and he returned your expression of irritation with his own annoyed, broody scowl.

“Didn’t wanna ask over the phone-”

“And you didn’t think to ask in person before you packed me up and dropped me off?”

Curtis had his arms folded over his chest, and he was fighting to hide his amusement behind his right fist. His broad shoulders were subtly bouncing, and the sound of his snickering caused Frank to snap his head in his direction with a deep frown. Clearing his throat, Curtis turned to look at you with an easy going smile and gave a loose and dismissive wave of his right hand.

“Look it uh, it ain’t a big deal, alright?”

“It is when he’s the only one here who seems to know what the fuck is going on.”

The tension between you and Frank was thick, almost visibly lingering in the air, and Curtis quickly picked up on it. He’d placed your bag on the floor by his feet, but in an effort to diffuse the situation, Curtis reached down to pick it up in his left hand and loosely gestured with his right towards a hall around the corner from you.

“Here, why don’t we get you set up, alright? I uh…needa talk to Frank right quick.”

Curtis regarded you with a sympathetic glint in his eye, and it had guilt filling your bloodstream like lead. Your presence here was an imposition, whether he would say that out loud or not, which you figured by his kind nature he wouldn’t. It wasn’t fair of you to stand in the middle of his living room and argue with Frank, disrupting the peace of his home and causing him to feel uncomfortable. Silently nodding your head in agreement, you gave Frank one last forlorn glance before you turned to follow Curtis.

In the midst of your disappointment, both in Frank and yourself, you noticed that Curtis seemed to walk with a slight limp. It wasn’t overly apparent, and you’d only observed it because your eyes were on the ground in front of you following the heels of his shoes, but it stoked your curiosity. Frank hadn’t told you anything about him, you hadn’t even known he existed until today, but he was clearly someone important if Frank was leaving you in his trusted care. Your mind began to wonder where that integrity stemmed from. When he placed your bag down on the edge of his bed, you quickly shook your head and spoke up.

“I’m not kicking you out of your own room.”

Curtis turned his head to look at you and studied you silently for a moment. His deep brown eyes flickered between the door of his bedroom and your own gaze. Taking a step in your direction, he reached out with his right hand and gave your shoulder a comforting light squeeze.

“We’ll talk about that later. Why don’t you just sit down for a minute, take a deep breath. Unclench your jaw and relax your shoulders.”

You hadn’t even been consciously aware of the fact that you were doing all of those things until Curtis pointed them out. Sucking in a deep breath, you let it out in a slow exhale through your lips, trying to release the frustration and stress in your body along with it. When you sat down on the edge of his bed, your shoulders slumped in exhaustion, and you folded your hands in front of you with your forearms resting on your thighs, staring blankly ahead at the wall.

“So, this kind of thing is normal with him?”

Slipping his hands into the pocket of his jeans, Curtis looked over at you while leaning back against the wall and granted a nod of his head.

“I’ve known Frank a long time. Kinda gotten used to him bein’ a pain in my ass.”

“And you put up with it?”

There seemed to be an unspoken understanding between the two of you at that moment. The way that Curtis looked at you told you that he knew what you were really asking him with your veiled question.

Should I continue to put up with it?

Letting out a deep exhale of his own, Curtis pursed his full lips and a contemplative look covered his features. After a moment, he returned your interrogative stare with an expression of empathy and lightly shrugged his broad shoulders.

“I’ve never known Frank to do somethin’ without a purpose. Whether it’s right or wrong, I can’t say. But, the intentions come from a good place. Most of the time.”

The way he spoke that last part caught your attention, and you looked up at him in intrigue. He had trailed off a bit, his dark brown eyes wandering towards the empty space next to your side. You wished you could read the thoughts currently passing behind his eyes. Curiosity creased along your forehead as you tilted your head to the side in question.

“Most of the time?”

Curtis’ eyes focused back in your direction and he held your gaze silently for a few seconds. You could see on his face that he knew he had said maybe just a little bit too much. He turned his head to glance towards the open bedroom door once more before returning your look of query. His lips faintly tugged into a reassuring smile when he nodded his head in your direction.

“Like I said, there’s always a purpose.”

While Frank and Curtis were conversating in the living room, you took a moment to look around the quaint space of Curtis’ bedroom. Eventually your eyes fell on your bag that sat on the mattress to your right, and all of a sudden it seemed to dawn on you that Frank had packed it for you. Unable to deny your curiosity, your fingers reached out to tug back the zipper, peering inside to see what clothing and necessities he’d chosen.

On one side of the bag, a pile of clothes were folded neatly, and on the other was your toiletry case. Thumbing through the pile of clothes, you felt a tightness in your chest seeing that Frank had chosen outfits that you would’ve picked for yourself. They were ones you wore regularly, and he’d even packed your favorite pajamas. Knowing that you liked to be overly prepared and have options in case you changed your mind, he’d made sure you had enough choices for a week, and he even managed to fit two other pairs of shoes in the bottom.

Frank had grabbed all of the essentials to pack in your toiletry case, everything that he knew you used regularly, and even a few things he must have just thought you might need. He hadn’t just randomly grabbed a bunch of things to shove in a bag and go. Frank had thoughtfully chosen every single item in this bag with you in mind. While you sat there with your bag open, staring at the contents inside, an unexpected wave of emotion built up along your waterline, and you hadn’t even noticed until you felt a trail of wetness cascading down your cheek.

A light knock on the bedroom door made you quickly wipe away the evidence of your emotional turmoil with the sleeve of your shirt, and when you turned your head, you saw Frank standing there in the doorway. He looked considerably calmer than he had twenty minutes ago, and seeing the remnants of sorrow shining in your eyes, his rough features softened into raw remorse. Glancing at your open bag sitting beside you, Frank looked down for a moment and cleared his throat.

“I uh…grabbed what I thought you would.”

Hesitantly lifting his head to meet your gaze, you saw that his warm brown eyes were full of unspoken apologies. Giving a faint nod of your head, you dropped your gaze down to your lap and spoke quietly.

“Yeah, thank you.”

Both of you had so much you wanted to say, but neither of you knew where to start, or what the right words were. The silence echoed loudly and the walls felt like they were tauntingly closing in around you. A sinking stone of intuition in the pit of your stomach had you prophesying the very real possibility that this would end with you left in bereavement, and that the romantic daydreams you had hand crafted in the back of your mind had been false fortune telling.

Frank took a few cautious steps towards you, and you could see his boots come into view in your peripheral as you kept your eyes downcast towards the floor.

“Sweetheart.”

God, the way he uttered that one word made your chest ache. There were a million different emotions packed into those two simple syllables, and you could hear the tender longing in his deep voice softly calling to you. Frank knelt down in front of you, his large hand reaching out to cup your face. He slipped his fingers into your hair right beside your ear, gently grasping the back of your neck and he tucked his thumb under your chin to lift your head slowly.

“Hey-”

Frank dipped his head to try and catch your eye. Swallowing thickly, you slowly lifted your line of sight to look at him, and the expression on his face broke your heart. His warm brown eyes were desperately pleading with you, darting between your lips and crestfallen gaze.

“-c’mon I don’t…I don’t wanna leave it like this.”

The warmth of his breath could be felt against your lips, and his eyes were frantically searching every inch of face for something…anything that could temporarily relieve this anguish until he returned with a permanent fix.

“Look if I could…if there was another way…”

Frank let out a deep sigh that trembled past his lips, and it was clear he was struggling to find the right words.

“Just��please. I’m gonna make this right, okay? I swear to you. I just…I need you to give me a little more time, alright? Just a little more. Can you give me that?”

It was hard to see Frank like this, the somber sheen to his eyes and the misery weighing heavily on his shoulders. He was asking for another strand of patience, but you didn’t know how much you had left, and it scared you to even think about what would happen when you ran out. It was unclear in your mind whether the love you had for Frank that was embedded deeply in the chambers of your heart could be enough to salvage the pieces he was leaving you with.

“Okay.”

Frank could hear the lack of conviction in your defeated tone, and it killed him. Deep down he knew he was asking too much of you without giving you any concrete reassurance in return, but he couldn’t see another path. All he could do was hope that your faith in him wouldn’t run out like grains of sand slipping through the narrow bridge of an hourglass, and that the consolation of your forgiveness could still be earned.

His soft lips parted, and there was an intense emotion in his eyes when he stared deeply into yours. It looked like he wanted to say something so badly, but he cut himself off before he could. Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and let it linger for a moment before pulling away and retracting his hand from your face.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. You’ll be safe with Curt, alright?”

A pang of disappointment quickly spread through you. For a second you thought Frank might be the first one to speak those three words. If there was ever a time you needed to hear them, it was now. But then again, you didn’t know if you were ready to say them back.

Running your hand through the roots of your hair and pushing it out of your face, you sucked in your bottom lip and grazed it with your top teeth before letting it go and nodding.

“Yeah.”

Frank eyed you wearily for a moment before hesitantly rising to his full height. He didn’t want to leave things between the two of you so unfinished like this, but he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t know if he’d made things better or worse in attempting to leave on a smoother note. When he reached the doorframe, he paused and turned to look at you again, and it bothered him that you wouldn’t look at him.

“I’ll see ya soon, sweetheart.”

There was no verbal reply from you, just another nod of acknowledgement. Frank lingered there for a moment in the doorway, silently begging you with his eyes to look at him, but your gaze seemed to be permanently fixed on the floor. The image of you sitting there looking so dejected and disappointed burned into his memory, and he knew it would haunt him, even long after this was all over. He wouldn’t forget the moment he’d let you down so badly.

The only goodbye you got was the resonation of Frank’s heavy boots fading, getting fainter and fainter the further away from you he got. A few seconds later, the front door opened with a soft creak, and a murmur was exchanged before the sound of heavy wood sliding back into a worn frame was completed with the soft click of a lock.

The golden hour dripped through the thin plastic blinds, coating the entire room in a sundrenched glow, but the warmth couldn’t penetrate the endless and echoing loneliness that dug deep into your bones knowing that Frank was gone, again.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawksfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher series

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starlightkun · 4 months ago

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⏯ word count: 18.3k ⏯ genre: band au, retired floprockstar/venue manager!kun, rookie/keyboardist!reader, age gap (kun is older), fluff, v v suggestive (lol it’s a kun fic written by me this gets so unhinged im sorry), ft. jungwoo/mark/chenle/jisung as reader’s bandmates, wayv as kun’s coworkers & some special guest appearances maybe?? ⏯ warnings: uhm there’s some maybe weird power dynamics going on here? reader is a former fan of kun’s but like his band flopped and they never met back then so 🤷‍♀️ read at your own peril ig, not necessarily a warning but since i do avoid describing the reader’s appearance in my fics, i wanted to give a heads up—reader is in a punk/alternative band and is mentioned and/or implied to have some tattoos and piercings (other than earlobes). i don’t get super detailed, but since it’s there, i wanted to make sure y’all weren’t caught off-guard ⏯ extra info: set in the same universe as filler episodes & sugarcoated brain, but u don’t need to read those in order to understand this one at all i prommy ⏯ author’s note: those teasers of emo kun for frequency coming out right after i wrote a punk venue manager kun into sugarcoated brain??? oh i was not going to get out unscathed ⏯ now playing… frost – txt | doing this again! – bears in trees | entropy – beach bunny

── ⋆⋅♫⋅⋆ find more stories from backstage at venue:hell here!

“He played the keys in Vizions!” You hissed, anxiously looking over at the hallway as if Kun might reappear.

“You should see if he’ll sign your album,” Jungwoo suggested with a grin, nudging you with his elbow.

“Or fuck him,” Chenle deadpanned. “You’re in a band now too, not just a fan.”

“Venue:Hell…” Chenle hummed as he parked the band’s van in the alleyway in the back of the building. “When was the last time we were here?”

“We had a set at their Valentine’s Day event, remember?” You leaned over the console from the backseat. “When the lead singer of Roses for Eyes got decked in face?”

A chorus of ‘oh yeah!’s and other noises of recognition sprang up around you, as well as a few snickers and hisses of sympathy at the memory. You all had already performed that night and were in line for the bar nearby when the incident happened, practically front row for it.

“And we agreed to come back,” Jisung snorted.

“If we can make it out with no broken noses, I think that’ll be a success,” you grinned, reaching over Mark to open the side door.

After grabbing some of your equipment from the back, the five of you approached the back door. It was unlocked, as promised, and you all descended into the cool, dim basement venue.

“Hello? We’re Doing this Again! The new band!” Jungwoo called out from the front of the group. You shut the door firmly behind you.

A young man skidded around into your line of sight, bright smile on his face. “Hey! I’m Yangyang.”

“Our assistant manager is out for the next few weeks, so we’re kind of all sharing custody of you guys,” he explained, gesturing for you to follow him. “I’ll show you the green room, we’ll get the rest of your stuff, then our manager should be out here before your soundcheck.”

Yangyang and another employee, Kunhang, helped unload your equipment from your van, and began setting it up on stage. You learned that Yangyang was their sound guy, and Kunhang did lights and the rest of their tech.

Once your equipment was all set up, Yangyang and Kunhang exchanged uncertain looks, glancing over towards a hallway attached to the main room that you were in. Yangyang shrugged one shoulder and made a gesture for Kunhang to go ahead. The tech rolled his eyes at his coworker, but stepped forward anyway, flashing you all a bright smile.

“We’ll show you around since he’s not out yet. He said he wanted to talk to you before soundcheck,” he explained apologetically.

Kunhang and Yangyang showed you most of the building, ending in the main green room backstage.

“Uh, you can settle in,” Yangyang waved his hands around vaguely. “We’re going to go see if the old man finally keeled over or something.”

“I heard that.” A stern voice resounded from just outside the green room, making the two employees jump and turn around.

A third man had joined you all, focusing an unamused gaze on Yangyang and Kunhang. He was dressed in black from head to toe, a black leather jacket over black button-up shirt and black jewelry glinting from his neck, ears, and knuckles. He wore dark pants and big black work boots too, so you were doubly surprised at how quietly he could move. While you could tell he was older than the rest of you, you definitely wouldn’t call him old. As soon as his sharp eyes flicked over to you from under a curtain of jet-black hair, a jolt of recognition zapped through you, and you grabbed Jisung’s arm at the same time that you bit down on your tongue to avoid making a sound. Your friend’s arm tensed in surprise, but he thankfully stayed quiet too. The newcomer’s gaze went back to his employees as quick as it had flitted over your band.

“Go find something to do,” he shooed them away with one swift hand movement.

“On it!” They replied in unison, shoes squeaking on the concrete floor as they quite literally ran away.

He turned back to you all, taking a few steps in to fully enter the green room. The annoyance drained from his face, and his features became beautifully neutral as he greeted you all politely. “Sorry, I was on a call, it took much longer than I thought it would. If they didn’t already tell you, my assistant manager is out, so it’s a bit hectic around here right now. Normally our weekly act is her responsibility.”

“Is she okay?” Jungwoo asked.

“Yes, she’s fine,” the manager replied. “She’s assisting our usual weekly with their mini-tour. Which is why you all are here, of course. We appreciate you agreeing to fill in for RFE on this temporary basis.”

“Thanks for the opportunity,” Mark replied automatically.

“If you all do well, it might not have to be temporary, hm?” He said, and though his words were kind, his expression didn’t change. You were beginning to taste blood. “I’m Kun, manager of Venue:Hell. Please let me know if you have any issues while you’re here. I’ve delayed your soundcheck already, so I’ll let you go ahead.”

With that, Kun stepped out as briskly as he had arrived, leaving no room for further conversation or introductions.

As soon as he left, Jisung yanked his arm from your grip and looked at you incredulously. “Christ, Y/N, what the fuck—”

“He played the keys in Vizions!” You hissed, anxiously looking over at the hallway as if he might reappear.

“Wait, like that band that only released one album like a decade ago that you’re obsessed with?” Chenle questioned doubtfully. “How can you be sure?”

“She went to like every gig they had,” Mark recounted. “Got us grounded, and then would insist on sneaking out while we were grounded to go to even more. If anybody is gonna recognize a member of that band, it’s her.”

“You should see if he’ll sign your album,” Jungwoo suggested with a grin, nudging you with his elbow.

“Or fuck him,” Chenle deadpanned abruptly, dropping onto the well-used couch, stretching his legs out. “You’re in a band now too, not just a fan.”

“You guys don’t get it, I didn’t just think he was hot—”

“That was definitely part of it,” Mark snorted.

“—He was awesome on the keys! And he wrote all of their songs, and produced their entire album by himself!” You defended yourself. “He made me realize I didn’t just have to do piano recitals and that I could do something like this.”

“Alright, sorry, Y/N,” Chenle said softly. “We were just messin’ with you.”

“Do you think he recognized you? Since you apparently went to so many of their shows?” Jisung asked.

You shook your head. “No way. I never had the courage to talk to them. And that was like ten years ago anyway.”

“I still think you should see if he’ll sign your CD.” Jungwoo patted your shoulder. “It’d probably make his day.”

“I don’t know, clearly the band thing didn’t work out for him,” Chenle added. “He might want to just forget it all.”

You bit the inside of your cheek nervously, then let out a dejected sigh. “Nah, it’s not like I carry the CD with me everywhere…”

Your set at Venue:Hell that night was a hit, if you did say so yourself. It wasn’t nearly as big of a turnout as the Valentine’s event you’d played at, but that was to be expected for a random Thursday night. The crowd was surprisingly engaged, especially since you were careful to incorporate a couple covers of popular songs into your set.

Running off the stage, the five of you immediately tackled each other in a group hug that was all yelling, elbows, sweat, laughing, and chaos.

“One down, three to go!” You cheered, ruffling up Jisung’s matted hair.

“Oh my god, we’re doing this again!” Mark added breathlessly.

“Boo!” You all immediately jeered at the corny joke he made every chance he got. “Tomato! Tomato!”

He laughed loudly as you and Chenle pushed and jostled him, but not enough for him to fully leave your circle. Jungwoo tugged him back in.

“Good job, guys,” Dejun, a stage tech, congratulated you as he passed by, starting to break down some of the equipment on stage.

Your band broke apart to help the staff shut down the stage for the night as other music played over the speakers of the venue and patrons chatted and danced on the floor. A few came up to the stage to talk with you as you worked, interested both in you all as the new weekly, and what had happened to the old weekly. They seemed relieved to hear that Roses for Eyes wasn’t gone for good, and were really enthused in the feedback they had for you.

After putting your equipment that you would be taking home in the green room, you all decided to stay and mingle for a little while more. If this was only going to be for four nights, you wanted to make them count and do as much as you could to get your band’s name out there. You ordered a drink from Sicheng the bartender, at which time you found out that the 50% employee discount applied to you too for the time being. Turning back to the crowd, you strained to spot any of your bandmates among the bodies.

“Hey,” Kun had appeared next to you at the bar, and you jumped out of your skin.

“Fuckin’ Christ, dude,” you coughed, trying to catch your breath. “Can you teleport or something?”

“Sorry.” He seemed more amused than apologetic. “Good set.”

“Thanks.” You took a sip of your drink to avoid looking him in the eye.

“Who did the arrangement for that first cover?”

“I did. Uhm, it obviously wasn’t for a rock band, so I had to do some tweaking…”

He nodded, looking actually impressed. “You compose?”

“Me and Mark for the most part, yeah. The other guys pitch in on songwriting sometimes, too. Chenle’s adlibs are crazy good.”

“Cool. See you next week.” Kun pushed off the bar, disappearing into the crowd.

Mark and Jungwoo found you still rooted to that spot, robotically sucking down your drink.

“Woah, I know we did good, but I don’t know if it was ‘get absolutely smashed’ good,” Mark laughed, pulling your drink down from your mouth.

“Come on, we got Jisung dancing!” Jungwoo took your drink and put it on the bar.

Your eyebrows shot up at the news that your wallflower drummer had apparently joined in the fun. “Really?”

“Yeah, let’s go!” He grabbed your arm and toted you off with the two of them.

The next week when you all arrived in the green room, you were a little surprised to see a plate of cookies sitting on the table in the center of the room. You all exchanged uncertain glances, looking around for any clue as to who the cookies were from or for. Jungwoo was the first one to take one from the plate and bite into it.

“Pretty good,” he gave his approval through a mouthful, encouraging the other guys to each take one or two.

You were still wary as you approached, picking a cookie up and taking a small bite. It was soft and chewy, and soon you were taking another bite.

“Oh good, you guys found the cookies,” Kun was in the doorway, having once again snuck up on you all.

Jisung started choking on his cookie, and Chenle had to smack him on the back to get it back down the right pipe. Kun’s lip twitched as he was clearly trying not to laugh, a dimple appearing and disappearing on one cheek instead.

“Did you buy these?” Mark asked, muffled through the cookie in his mouth.

“Baked them, yeah.”

“You made them?!” You stared at him, half-eaten cookie in hand.

“Unless they’re bad, then Ten made them.” He winked at you before slipping out of the room without another word.

“God, Y/N, stop drooling,” Chenle snickered, wiping at your chin teasingly.

You smacked his hand away, glaring at him. “Shut up.”

“You seriously looked like you were about to pounce on him,” Jungwoo added helpfully, tweaking your cheek as he walked by.

“Ugh, you guys are the worst!”

Week three found you alone on the stage before your soundcheck. Your bandmates were out on a food run, but you didn’t feel like getting back in the van, so you were messing around on your keyboard. The venue staff was also scarce, you had only briefly seen Yangyang since showing up today. Tapping your foot to a familiar beat, you closed your eyes as you hummed a melody that you knew by heart, fingers flitting across the keys. It wasn’t your own band’s song, but one by Vizions, a powerful ballad.

“Haven’t heard that in a long time.”

Errant notes rang out as your eyes flew open, heart jumping out of your chest. “Fuck!”

You spotted Kun down on the floor, covering his mouth as he started laughing. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You always mean to scare the shit out of people.” You rolled your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s like your favorite hobby.”

“Alright, guilty.” He held his hands up, still grinning. “Seriously, how the hell do you even know that?”

“I used to go to your shows like, all the time,” you admitted, staring down at the keys. “You were like, kinda a big reason I started doing this at all.”

“Wait seriously?” All the humor had fallen from his face as he stared at you with confusion and a touch of wonder, brows furrowed and mouth parted.

“Yeah, I uh—” You grabbed your bag from the ground at your feet and fetched the CD that had been sitting in there for the past two weeks, since your first night at Venue:Hell. “I still have your CD.”

Kun jumped up onto the stage with you, taking the plastic case from you and turning it over slowly in his hands. “I don’t even have one of these anymore. God, I remember desperately trying to sell these at shows after we had them made…” He peered a little closer at your face, then shook his head. “No, I don’t remember you, sorry.”

“It’s okay, I never talked to you guys at any of the shows,” you assured him. “I mean, what if you were creeps?”

He let out a few hearty chuckles at that, nodding. “Okay, fair. Good self-preservation skills.”

“Also, I think someone else was at the table when I bought it.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard any of those songs.” He handed you the disc back.

“I didn’t realize you were going to hear me,” you muttered. “When I was playing that, I was just—”

“I’m not mad,” he reassured you. “I’m just… shocked. That’s all.”

“Great, because I kind of want to die in a hole right now, so—”

“When did you realize? Who I was?”

You rubbed the back of your neck. “As soon as I saw you…”

“That makes sense,” he nodded. “I thought I had scared you too, when you grabbed Jisung.”

“You did, just not the same way you scared Yangyang and Kunhang,” you joked. Then, panic flooded your veins as you quickly went to tack on, “I’m not like, obsessed, by the way, I just really like your music, and it was a big inspiration for me to switch from classical to—”

Kun started laughing again, waving his hands in front of him to try to calm you down. “I believe you, I believe you. It’s okay, I swear, I believe you.”

“Oh thank god,” you groaned, covering your face with both hands.

“You’re a lot better than I ever was.” He dropped off the stage, starting to set up the stools around the perimeter of the floor.

“What?! No!” You immediately argued.

“You improved on what I wrote, I heard it. That little—” he imitated part of the melody you had been playing, the fingers of one hand tapping imaginary keys in the air. “—that you changed in the bridge. I like it.”

“I was just messing around waiting for them to get back with the food, I wasn’t—”

“It’s good,” he insisted. “You’re good, Y/N.”

“So were you,” you muttered, futzing with the knobs on your instrument.

“Could you do me a favor?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t mention any of this to my employees.”

“What? They don’t know?”

“No.” He shook his head. “They know I’ve been around the scene for a while, they know I can play, that’s it.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Will you do that for me?”

“Yeah, sure, Kun.” You weren’t sure what sudden surge of confidence possessed you in that moment, but you picked the CD up off your keyboard. “If you’ll sign this for me.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You’ve got a Sharpie around here, right?”

“Yeah, in the-in the office.” He pointed over his shoulder.

You hopped off the stage, looking at him expectantly. He led the way through the venue in a bit of a daze, until you got to a door at the end of a cramped hallway. Kun ushered you into the back office, and you tried to ignore how fast your heart was going as you stepped inside. You’d never been in the admin office of Venue:Hell, only ever the main floor area, stage, and backstage.

The walls were plastered in album covers, most of which you recognized. A small futon was pushed against one wall while a desk and office chair were cramped into another corner. Kun dug through a cup of pens sitting on the desk until he had secured a black Sharpie.

“Seriously?” He double-checked with you.

“Seriously.” You pushed the plastic case into his hands.

He chuckled, uncapping the Sharpie with his teeth before quickly scrawling his signature in the bottom right corner. He fanned it a couple times to dry the ink, then handed it back to you.

“15-year-old me would be geeking out right now,” you beamed down at the fresh signature.

Kun spat the Sharpie cap back out onto the desk. “Fifteen?! We always played at 18-plus venues!”

You snickered. “Bold of you to think that I couldn’t get my hands on a fake ID, or that most of those places were actually carding in the first place.”

“Point taken,” he groaned.

“Anyway, your secret’s safe with me.” You made a motion of zipping up your lips and throwing away the key. “And the rest of my band. I kind of already told them.”

“As long as they don’t say anything either.”

“I’ll make sure they know.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you,” you echoed, shaking the CD case. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Kun shook his head, gesturing towards the door. “Nothing. Good luck tonight, Y/N.”

“Right. Thanks!” You opened the office door.

On the other side was Yangyang, who glanced between the two of you suspiciously. “Oh. Y/N. What were you doing in there? With the door shut?”

You kept the CD tucked between your arm and your side. “Had some questions about the weekly slot.”

With that, you practically skipped away, giving the sound tech no further opportunities to ask questions. Of you, at least.

Kun approached the stage from the floor as you all were doing your soundcheck for your final night at Venue:Hell. He waited patiently for you to finish the song that you were on. When he saw that you all had removed your in-ears, he spoke up.

“Got word from Roses,” he started. “They’re going to be moving to every other week when they get back. How would you guys like to alternate the weekly slot with them? My staff and regulars all really like you, we’d love to keep you on. Talk about it, let me know by Wednesday?”

He didn’t wait for an answer from you all, pivoting back around on his heel to take care of whatever else was on his never-ending checklist. The five of you looked at each other, and you already knew the answer. Chenle and Jisung high-fived while Jungwoo hastily took his bass off to grab you and spin you around. You yelped and laughed, half-heartedly smacking his back to get him to put you down as he nearly crashed the both of you into Mark and his instrument.

At your first performance as a semi-permanent fixture around Venue:Hell, you were antsy as soon as you entered the basement, looking around expectantly.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” you told your friends over your shoulder as you left them on the main floor.

“Where are you going?” Mark called after you.

“I just want to see if Kun’s here, I want to tell him thanks for keeping us on.”

Knowing jeers and snickers sprang up behind you, but you ignored them, walking down the cramped hallway to the admin office. The door at the end was ajar, and you ducked around a precariously perched box of t-shirts to grab the door handle.

Through the crack, you could hear someone humming a faint melody. It wasn’t any song that you knew, but you did stop to listen for probably longer than you should have. You couldn’t help it, you were curious. Finally, when you started feeling like maybe a bit too much of a creep, you knocked softly, pushing the door open even more.

“Yeah?” Kun called out.

You poked your head in. “Hey.”

He looked over at you from the computer screen, nodding for you to enter the office fully. “Y/N, what can I do for you?”

“What song is that?”

“Huh?”

“That you were just humming, what is it? It’s nice.”

“It’s nothing,” he brushed it off. “Just a tune I’ve got in my head.”

“You’re still writing songs?” You asked eagerly.

“No. I haven’t in quite a few years.”

“Really? You stayed around the scene, I figured you might’ve at least had a notebook somewhere? Lyrics in your notes app? Some demos recorded on your phone?” After each one, he shook his head, and your hopeful gaze fell more and more. “Nothing?”

“Nope.”

“Huh.” You sat on the desk next to the computer keyboard, loosely crossing your arms over your chest as you tried to absorb that information. “Do you miss it at all?”

“Writing songs or performing?”

“Any of it.”

“Bits and pieces, yeah,” Kun admitted, leaning back into the office chair. “I wouldn’t go back, though.”

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

“We were broke, for one thing.” He laughed. “Don’t get me wrong, the excitement of having all those what-ifs in front of you, it was awesome. And I do miss the music. But I also like my life now just fine.”

“I didn’t mean to put down what you’re doing now, by the way,” you added. “I was just curious.”

Kun’s eyes crinkled as he smiled up at you warmly. “It’s okay, I didn’t take it like that. I thought I was going to be in the band forever too.”

You looked down at your lap, thinking about your own band, and felt an uncomfortable pressure pushing down on your chest.

“So, did you come in here for anything specific? Or to just watch me create the employee schedule for next month?”

“As thrilling of an offer as that is,” you chuckled, “I did have a real reason. I wanted to say thanks for offering us this slot. We’re all really grateful for the opportunity.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “You’re welcome. I’m glad that you guys accepted. I hope Venue:Hell can be the starting point for much more.”

“Thanks.” You stood back up, showing yourself out. You nearly slammed into Yangyang on the other side, though, and jumped back in shock. “Jesus fucking Christ, Yangyang! Why are you always in the damn hallway?!”

“Why are you always in the office?!” He retorted, just as exasperated.

You rolled your eyes and shouldered past him.

You had settled into your biweekly sets at Venue:Hell, becoming familiar with the staff, regulars, and rhythm of the venue. A private event was renting out the space tonight, so your set had gotten moved way up, to the early evening. You didn’t mind, it meant that instead of arriving after dark, you arrived before sunset.

Kun was out setting up the stools and tables around the perimeter of the floor when you all entered the building, and gave you a wave of acknowledgement over his shoulder.

“Do you live here or something?” Chenle asked. “I’ve never seen another car out there, and you’re literally always here.”

“I might as well,” the manager mused, continuing to set up.

“Pretty sure he’s a vampire,” Jungwoo laughed. “Never seen him out in daylight.”

“Very original,” Kun replied dryly. “I’m wearing all black, I work underground…”

“You’re old!” Ten interjected from what sounded like backstage.

“I sign your checks!” He immediately barked back.

“Uh, guys?” You looked at your bandmates pointedly. “I think the call is coming from inside the house?”

They all looked down at their own dark outfits and various smatterings of tattoos and piercings, muttering among themselves before walking off. You shook your head, following after them.

The performance itself was smooth like usual, some different faces in the crowd than usual, which you chalked up to the different time. You swore you saw Kun standing in the back of the venue with someone, but they were too far back and shrouded in shadows for you to be sure. After your set, you all couldn’t hang around like usual, having to pack up everything and get out so the private event could start setting up.

Your bandmates had already taken everything else out to the van, you were the only one left in the green room, gathering up the last of your stuff to bring out. You had just finished packing one duffel bag and were stuffing another when there was a light knock on the doorway.

“Y/N, you’re still here.” It was Kun, followed by another man that you only saw out of the corner of your eye.

“Sorry, I’m almost gone,” you promised, rushing even more now.

“First, I’d like you to meet someone.” Kun’s words made you slow down, looking up properly as he gestured to the tall man with him, inked from neck to fingertip. The heavy tattoos and time didn’t make it any harder for you to place the face, though, before Kun had finished the introductions, “Johnny, this is Y/N, she plays keys in Doing this Again! Y/N, this is Johnny, he—”

“—was your drummer in Vizions,” you finished, wide-eyed.

Johnny’s eyebrows went up before his face relaxed into an easy-going smile. “Damn, I thought Kun was bullshitting when he said he’d found a fan of ours.”

“No, I’m real,” you shook your head and laughed.

“Well, I’m honored.” Johnny beamed, holding a CD case and Sharpie out to you. “Would you mind?”

“Huh?” You stared down at the items in confusion. It was your band’s CD, a new press that was available at the venue’s merch table.

“Kun invited me out to see your set. I’m a fan of yours now. I’d be stoked if you could sign my album.”

You looked between Kun and Johnny uncertainly. Kun smiled encouragingly, mouthing ‘go ahead’ at you. That was the final push you needed to take the disc and pen. Your hands shook as you signed across the plastic CD case, and you hoped it hadn’t messed up your signature too much.

“Thanks.” He took both back, fanning the CD to dry the ink. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check out the bar now. It was an honor meeting you, Y/N.”

“Y-You too, Johnny.” You shook the hand that he had offered, his palm noticeably calloused. “Thank you.”

That left you and Kun in the green room now, and you plopped down exactly where you stood, wrapping your arms around your knees and burying your face in your legs to muffle your screams. Kun chuckled as he patted you on the head.

“Woah, you alright?”

You glared up at him. “How could you do that to me?”

“Do what?” He asked, still laughing. “I thought you liked our band?”

“Yes, but you can’t jumpscare me with your former bandmates!” You whined, hiding your face again.

“If I had told you Johnny was coming tonight, you would’ve been freaked out before going on stage.”

You huffed. Unfortunately, he was right.

“I’m going to take your silence as admission that I’m right.” After another long stretch of silence, Kun added, “He was being sincere, you know. He really did like your set, bought your CD with his own money.”

You pulled your head up, resting your cheek on your knee. “Let me guess—Getting me to sign it was your idea?”

“All him.” At your suspicious squint, Kun smiled, “Johnny likes supporting new acts on the scene. And why is it so hard for you to believe that people actually think you’re good?”

You let out a drawn-out sigh. “Typical—My parents don’t.”

He squatted down in front of you to be eye level with you. “What did they want you to do?”

“My dad started teaching me piano ever since I could sit on his lap and press the keys. They wanted me to do classical,” you commiserated. “The first time I said no to a recital, I thought the world was going to explode.”

“Did it?”

“No. They didn’t get mad, or yell, or force me to do it anyway. It was so… anti-climactic. I had this big idea of teen rebellion in my head, I guess.” You let out another heavy sigh. “But they’ve never supported me since I started doing this. When I bought my first keyboard, Mark had to help me carry it home from the music store. They’ve never come to a single gig, never even ask how it’s going. When I do talk about it, they don’t say anything, just wait for me to stop talking. They just… pretend like it’s not real.”

“If you all don’t talk about your music, what do you talk about?”

“When I’m going to choose a career path, or get married. Pretty much those two things.”

“I’m sorry your parents don’t support you, Y/N. That sucks, and I won’t take that away.” Kun squeezed your forearm, resting his hand there. “I’m sure you know this, but it doesn’t hurt hearing it again—You’re good, really good, whether or not they acknowledge it. And I hope you let yourself see that.”

You couldn’t quite smile, but blinked slowly, and nodded in acknowledgment. “Thanks, Kun.”

“Here,” he stood up, grabbing one of the duffel bags and slinging it over his shoulder, “I’ll help you with your stuff.”

His words had made you feel a little better, but you were slow to move, still self-pitying. Kun held both his hands down for you. “Come on. Normally, I’d let you pout all night, but other people have rented this space and that contract did not come with a pouting keyboardist.”

You reluctantly put your hands in his, letting him pull you to your feet.

“So yeah, that’s what Retro Rewind is gonna be like,” you finished brightly, looking between your parents hopefully. “Do you think you think you can make it? I-I don’t expect you to stay the whole time, but we’ll be going on first, so just for our set? Maybe?”

Your mom pushed around food on her plate, eyes trained on her dish. Your father took another bite of his food, washing it down with a sip of water. The only sounds in the room were of your breathing, and utensils occasionally scraping against plates. With every passing second, the shame that usually forced you into quietly changing the topic transformed into a white-hot rage, the kind that made you feel like a teapot that was about to boil over, steam bursting from your ears as they went on ignoring you.

“Hey!” You yelled, gripping your utensil tighter. “Look at me!”

Your mother finally met your gaze, her features stern. “Quiet down.”

“I asked a question. Are either of you going to answer it?”

“You do not speak to your mother like that,” your father interjected furiously.

“Well, I’m the one doing all of the talking here, I thought I could speak however I like,” you retorted.

Your mom tried again, “Y/N, please—”

“Please what?” You stared her down. “I try to engage you guys in conversation and keep you updated on my life and get shut down every single time, but I still try the next time anyway. All I’m asking, for once, is that you acknowledge—”

“Acknowledge what exactly?” Your dad snapped, a vein in his forehead popping out. “All you do is recount grimy basement after grimy basement, events that don’t pay you, long stretches of time where you’re not even booked, clearing out your savings to record an album with no label to distribute it. What accomplishments, exactly, are we supposed to be acknowledging?”

You held his eye contact, clenching your jaw so tight it felt like your teeth might break.

“We wanted the best for you, sweetie,” your mom added weakly. “Concert halls, opera houses… not this.”

Broiling hot tears stung your eyes as you stood up, pushing your chair back with a blood-curdling screech of the legs against the floor. You swallowed down the sharp thorny thing growing in your throat enough to speak, “All I wanted was for you guys to listen to me. I didn’t realize you have been. It turns out you just hate what you’ve been hearing.”

Your mom cast her eyes back down to her plate as your father grabbed his glass, lifting it to his lips to drink, his eyes focused on something in the middle distance, looking right through you. The chair was knocked over entirely in your hurry to get the fuck out of there, and the doorframe shook and rattled as you slammed their front door closed behind you.

Running down the sidewalks, your feet pounded the pavement like it had done you wrong, and you took hiccupping gulps of air as tears streaming down your face. When you tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and narrowly avoided skinning your entire face only by skinning your hands instead, you finally slowed down. You hissed in pain as you looked down at your bloodied hands, then up at your surroundings. The street you were on was somewhat familiar. You should be about ten minutes from the venue.

A rather miserable but not terribly long walk later, you were at the backdoor to Venue:Hell. Fumbling your keys from your pocket, you unlocked the door, shutting off the alarm that you were very thankful to know the code to. You washed your hands off in the sink of the women’s bathroom. After drying them with probably too many paper towels, you could see that the bleeding had stopped, and the skin there would just be a bit raw for a little while.

Walking back out to the main floor, your keyboard was still set up on stage from your set last night. Without another thought, you were hopping up onto the stage and turning on the equipment. You needed to do something. Completely ignoring your usual warm-ups, you went right into the most vitriolic, hardcore song that you could think of, uncaring of how hard you were bringing your fingers down against the keys. In fact, the repetitive blunt force sort of felt nice against your bones. A different sort of pain than the anguish tearing through your chest, at least. You lost track of time, only thinking about the music blaring out of the speakers and shaking through you.

“Y/N?!” Kun entered the main floor from the direction of the stairs, plugging one ear. “Y/N!”

You immediately stopped playing. “Oh. Kun.”

“I got a notification that the alarm was set off, and nobody responded to my text saying it was them, so I figured I’d stop by…”

You took your phone out of your pocket. There was in fact a text from Kun from twenty minutes ago in the Venue:Hell groupchat, asking if anybody was at the venue right now, followed by several ‘no’s from the venue staff, other members of your band, and Roses for Eyes.

“Sorry,” you muttered.

He took another moment to look you over, then sighed. “Alright, come on.”

“What?”

“You’re going to break your keyboard like that.” He hopped up onto the stage, shutting off your keyboard and all the other sound equipment. “Come on.”

Interest piqued, and with nothing better to do, you followed him. Kun turned off all the lights and set the building alarm before locking up behind you. He took a sharp turn down the alley that your band normally parked your van in. The two of you walked in silence, which you were grateful for. If he tried to press you on your sour mood, you were sure you’d snap at him and just feel even worse.

Just a couple minutes later, and you were at an apartment building. Kun held the front door open for you, then the door to the stairwell. After an arduous hike up the fourth floor, you stopped in front of an apartment. He unlocked it, and led you inside.

“Is this your place?” You asked, toeing off your shoes by the front door as he did.

“Yup.” Kun pointed to the kitchen sink. “Wash your hands.”

With that, he disappeared further into the apartment. As you washed your hands, you looked around. From where you were, you could see the kitchen and adjacent living room. It wasn’t a very big space, only one bedroom if you had to guess, but Kun kept it tidy. A few vintage framed band posters were on the living room walls that you had walked past to get to the kitchen, and he had a nice plush-looking couch.

Kun returned as you were finishing drying off your hands. You looked at him expectantly. “Now what?”

He guided you over to a countertop, where he had a bunch of graham crackers double-bagged in two ziploc plastic bags. He held a rolling pin out to you. “I need these crushed into small crumbs.”

It felt good to swing the rolling pin down, to watch the cracks form in the crackers as they burst apart, then became smaller and smaller as you kept hitting them. Rolling the rolling pin along the bag would probably be more efficient, but this was more fun. Kun, for his part, said nothing about the noise as you repeatedly whacked the bag over and over with loud bangs. He was busy with something else, you didn’t really care—your attention was fully on the crackers. By the time the crackers were a fine dust, you had worked up a sweat, but the raging tension in your muscles was no more. You were still pissed, of course, but no longer had the itch to slash somebody’s tires at least.

Kun came by to review your handiwork. “Good. Dump that in the bowl, then do the other ones.”

You obliged, opening the bags and shaking out the crumbs into a metal mixing bowl before refilling the bags with a new box of graham crackers. With the bags zipped back up, you went back to work obliterating the crackers inside. You didn’t even realize somebody was knocking on Kun’s front door until he was opening it, and you heard an unfamiliar man’s voice.

“What the fuck, man? Are you doing fucking construction in there?”

“You’re complaining about noise right now?”

“Yeah, I’m trying to fucking sleep.”

“It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Keep it. The fuck. Down.”

“Get out of my fucking face.”

“Whatever. Just keep it down.”

Kun quietly shut the door, calmly doing his locks and deadbolts back up. You looked between the rolling pin in your hands and the crackers guiltily. He wordlessly pulled out his phone, and with a few taps, a hard rock song was playing out of speakers in his living room at full volume.

He rejoined you in the kitchen, having to raise his voice as he explained, “Downstairs neighbor. I can hear him and his girlfriend fucking or fighting every night. Sometimes at the same time.”

You burst into laughter, turning back around to take another swing at the graham crackers. Once those ones looked pulverized enough, you dumped them into the bowl too.

“Done?” Kun asked.

“Yep!” You nodded. “So, what is this for, anyway?”

“Cheesecake bars.” He slid the bowl over to him, pouring melted butter in and mixing them together. “This is the crust.”

“Ooh, sounds good.”

He placed a square glass baking dish in front of you. “Press the graham cracker into an even layer on the bottom.”

You did as he instructed, singing along to the next song that had started playing as you worked. Meticulously smushing the crust into the bottom of the dish, you squinted as you tried to figure out if it was even or not. As your focus increased, your singing dropped out, and you realized that there was another voice humming in the kitchen too, almost unintelligible past the loud music. You looked up from the crust to where Kun was mixing something in another bowl, his attention fully on that. Your ears strained to catch more of his voice.

Then his sharp gaze was on you, eyebrows raising inquisitively. “Done?”

“Yeah, I think.” You straightened up to let him take a look.

He gave it his nod of approval before popping the dish into the pre-heated oven. Kun went back to the other bowl, cracking two eggs into it. You followed him to that corner of the kitchen, hopping up onto the countertop next to the stand mixer. He gave you a brief look of intrigue before continuing on with his task. He secured the bowl in the stand mixer then turned it on. You watched with interest as the ingredients were incorporated together. Kun stopped it, scraping down the sides with a spatula and adding more ingredients before turning it back on. Finally, he stopped the mixer again and took the bowl and attachment from it. He handed you the mixing attachment that had just been in the batter, covering the bowl with plastic wrap and putting it in the fridge.

When he turned around to see you still dutifully holding the attachment, he pointed to it, “You can clean it off. We won’t need it again.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, taking your finger and scooping off a big chunk of batter. It was pleasantly sweet and creamy, and you eagerly licked off the rest. The sink was in arm’s reach, and you leaned forward to deposit the now-clean(ish) mixer attachment in with the rest of the dirty dishes.

Kun rolled his sleeves up to his elbows as he turned the tap on, and you shamelessly ogled his hands and forearms as he washed the dishes. Despite being in the scene for so long, he only had one tattoo between the two areas, an abstract ink swirl that started on his his right pinky finger and flowed around his arm and disappeared into his shirt. You remembered that tattoo from all the concerts you’d attended, watching these same hands play the electric keyboard.

When he held a soaking wet dish out towards you, you blinked at it, startled from your nostalgic reverie. A drop of water dripped off and onto your leg, making you panic and take the bowl from him. “Fine—Ack! It’s wet!”

“Towel’s on the oven door next to you.” He indicated with his gaze before going back to washing.

You grabbed the dish towel from its place hanging off the oven door, hastily drying both the bowl and your own hands. Another song came on that you knew, and you hummed along to the introductory guitar riff as you dried the next dish Kun handed you. As the actual vocals came in and you started singing too, you could hear Kun had started humming as well.

Pushing on his shoulder, you got an incredulous look in return, but simply grinned and pushed more insistently as you sung louder. He shook his head and poured more soap on the spatula he was cleaning.

You pushed his shoulder a third time, taking a guitar solo as an opportunity to say, “Come on, Kun. I know you can sing. And I know you’re not afraid of getting a noise complaint.”

“I haven’t performed in years—”

“You’re not performing! You’re singing with me while doing the dishes!” You gestured at said dishes zealously. “Please?”

He remained silent, then the guitar solo was over, and he joined in when the singer on the recording came back in. You were so surprised that actually worked that you ended up missing the cue, which Kun immediately noticed. He pinched your thigh, and you jerked your leg away from him with a pout, but started singing with him nevertheless. Kun had only ever done background vocals in his band, but you’d listened to that CD so many times that you knew every layer of sound, every adlib, every second of every song by heart. That’s how you could also immediately tell that Kun’s voice had matured in the years since they’d recorded that album. He’d already told you that he was out of practice, but even if he wasn’t maybe hitting all the notes perfectly, there was something richer about his voice now that left you wanting this song to last forever.

Right as he passed you the last utensil, the timer on the oven beeped, and Kun dried his hands off to attend to that, ending your sing-along. He took the cooked crust from the oven, setting it on a cooling rack. After adjusting the oven temperature, he brought the cheesecake batter back out from the fridge, pouring it over the crust. Kun put it back in the oven and set the timer again.

“Fifty minutes,” he informed you.

You swung your feet. “So what are we going to do for fifty minutes? Other than blast music to piss your neighbor off?”

Kun walked into the living room, and you hopped off the counter to follow him. He paused the music on his phone and sat on the couch, picking up the remote from the coffee table, turning on the TV, then tossing the remote at you. “You pick.”

You sat down on the couch too, quickly trying to figure out all the buttons on his TV remote. A few minutes of unsuccessfully scrolling through streaming services later, and you turned it back off with a huff. “I don’t want to watch anything. Can’t we just—I don’t know, talk or something?”

“Sure.” Kun shifted, leaning back against the armrest. “You guys have your setlist for Retro Rewind yet?”

“Ugh—Not about work,” you groaned, dropping your face into your hands.

“Okay… Do you feel better?”

“Huh?”

“Y/N, I walked in on you Phantom-of-the-Opera-ing your keys this afternoon. You looked one chandelier away from burning our shitty opera house down,” he said frankly. “I won’t ask about what—But do you feel better now? Even a little?”

The mention of Retro Rewind and opera houses brought your conversation with your parents back to you, and you pressed the heels of your palms hard into your eyes to banish the thoughts, to keep living in this nice time now with Kun. You nodded. “Yeah. I do. Thanks, Kun.”

“Good.”

“I got lunch with my parents.” You stared down at your feet. “This whole time I thought they weren’t listening to me… They were, they just wish I was somebody else. They really think I’m a fucking failure.”

“Shit…” He breathed out, scooting over to rest a hand on your shoulder.

You let out a sharp laugh, lolling your head around to look over at him. “That’s it?”

“You don’t need me to tell you I’m proud of you. You’re a kick-ass musician without me or your parents.”

“Can you tell me anyway?” You mumbled.

Kun chuckled, stroking your hair. “I’m proud of you.”

His praise made you feel warm, especially with the gentle hand still petting your hair and his playful but genuine gaze fully focused on you. You suddenly had never wanted a man more in your life.

You tilted your head curiously, “Wait, you said your neighbor and his girlfriend are always…”

“Fucking and fighting,” he repeated for you, hand resting on the nape of your neck. “At all hours of the night. At least the nights I’m here, you know.”

“Have you ever gotten payback?”

Kun took a millisecond too long to point to the speakers, as if he’d caught on but wanted to see if you’d really go for it. “I just did…”

“No, I mean…” You stood up, leaning over him and grabbing the back of the couch next to his shoulder, ignoring the roadburn on your palm. “Ever given him a proper taste of his own medicine? Fucking and fighting…”

He calmly watched you. “I haven’t.”

“Do you want to? We don’t even have to fight after.”

“You just got in a fight with your parents, I’m someone older that you used to look up to—”

“Diagnosing me with daddy issues, nice,” you snickered derisively, caging him in with your other arm. “Maybe it’s that. Maybe I feel shitty and want to feel good. Maybe I think you’re like the hottest man I know, and we have at least forty minutes until those cheesecake bars are ready.”

“Forty minutes isn’t a lot of time,” Kun mused.

“Oh?”

His eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up to yours. “You sure?”

You answered by crashing your mouths together, every nerve in your body coming to life. Kun grabbed your waist, encouraging you to sit on his lap. He let out a groan into the kiss when your hips pressed down against his, guiding you to do it again. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tangling the fingers of one hand in the hair at the back of his head, pulling every so often. He kept the rhythm of your hips as he kissed and nipped a wet trail from your mouth under your jaw and down your neck. He bit down harder at the junction of your neck and shoulder, soothing over the indents of his teeth with his lips and tongue. You were already letting out needy, obscene noises and all your clothes were still on. At this rate, his neighbor would never sleep.

“Ah! That tickles!” You giggled, trying to push Kun’s hands away as they crept under your (his) shirt and skimmed over your sides.

Kun’s chest shook against yours as he laughed, hands continuing to explore your skin again. “Sorry, baby. I can’t help it, I’ve got a fucked out, pretty girl in my lap.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“You want to play the blame game right now?”

The hint of chastisement in his tone made you shift unconsciously on top of him, leaning in to kiss him again. He indulged you, hand coming up to cup your cheek as his tongue slipped into your mouth. You had just grabbed his hand and started guiding it lower when a faint jingle rang in the background, past the blood roaring in your ears and lewd sounds of you two kissing.

Kun pulled away with a regretful sigh, planting one more lingering kiss on your lips before whispering, “The cheesecake bars.”

“No,” you whined, dragging out the ‘o’ as you pulled his mouth back to yours.

“Yes,” he mimicked you, also dragging out his vowel in a petulant tone. Kun flipped the two of you over, depositing you on the couch and taking advantage of your surprise to loosen your arms around his neck and stand up. He stretched his arms over his head, walking into the kitchen.

You slumped into the couch cushions, opting to rest your eyes for the moment. You could hear Kun turn the timer off, open the oven door, and take the pan out before setting it on the cooling tray. Then, his footsteps reentered the living room, and you peeked your eyes open again.

Kun stopped in front of you on the couch, tucking his hands into his sweatpants as he looked down at you. With you wearing his shirt, you could very clearly see his other sporadic tattoos on his bare torso—over his hip bone, ribs, one on his inner bicep, shoulder, and you knew there was one on the back of his neck too. He cocked his head as he looked down at you. “Taking a nap?”

“Yes. Honk shoo mimimi.”

“That’s too bad. The cheesecake bars have to cool for one to two hours.”

You sat up straight. “I can nap later.”

He offered his hand. “Come on, I’m fucking you in a bed this time.”

“Couch isn’t so good for your old bones?” You teased, accepting his hand as you went to stand up. Your legs wobbled, and you only stayed upright because you were already holding Kun and used him for balance.

“I don’t think I need to say anything,” he snickered, pulling you closer until your back was against his chest. “Let’s go, my pretty girl deserves a real pillow.”

Kun reentered his bedroom with a plate stacked high with cheesecake bars and glass of water. You smiled as he sat down in front of you, insistently handing you the water first. You gulped down half of it in one go before reaching for a cheesecake bar.

As soon as you bit into it, you groaned in appreciation. “So good.”

“Do you always make obscene noises when you eat?” Kun scoffed.

“Sorry,” you mumbled through another mouthful. “‘S really good.”

You held the rest of the cheesecake bar in your hand out to him. He wrapped his hand around yours, holding it still for him to lean forward and wrap his lips around your fingertips, taking the food in one bite. You watched him, unblinking.

When he finally let your hand go, you were snapped from your trance. “Now who’s being obscene while eating?”

He laughed, covering his mouth to keep crumbs from flying out.

Noticing that it had gotten darker out, you glanced at the time on his bedside clock. “Do you have to go to the venue tonight?”

“No, I’m off today.” He squeezed your thigh. “Not kicking you out.”

You looked down at his hand on your leg, your fingers tracing his ink up along his arm. There was a small clink as he set the plate down on the nightstand, then he was tilting your chin up so you’d look him in the eye. You twisted your head out of his gentle grip, looking back down, away from his too-intense gaze.

“You’re pouting again, baby,” he stated, breaking the long stretch of silence.

“Maybe so,” you admitted with a huff. “It’s my thinking face.”

“And what are you thinking about?”

“What—” Your throat closed up as your brain was going too fast for your mouth to keep up with. You decided to pick a simultaneously simpler yet much harder question, “Now what?”

Kun raised an eyebrow. “I need you to be more specific, because I don’t think you’re asking about dinner.”

“That’s what I mean! Are we going to eat dinner together? Or is that too much? Is it going to be just work from now on or like… something else? Some people just know but I don’t! I don’t know anything and I can’t do that!” You covered your face with your hands to hide your tears from him, embarrassed at your outburst, embarrassed to be young and insecure and having the ‘what are we’ talk right after sleeping with an older guy, embarrassed to be crying in front of him, embarrassed, embarrassed, embarrassed. God, that’s all you’d ever done since you’d met Kun, embarrassed yourself.

“Ah, Y/N,” Kun sighed, taking his hand back. “I’m too old for this shit. I thought you were awesome the first night we met. When I got to see you perform, then you told me about the arrangement you made. Even after I found out you knew about my old band, I tried to support you as crew because I figured you wouldn’t want to get tied down to an old flop like me.”

You sniffed, messily wiping your face on the sleeves of Kun’s hoodie that you were wearing. Finally meeting his eyes again, you said, “This whole time, you’ve been getting on me about not believing that I’m a good musician. Why can’t you believe that you were too? I haven’t seen a keyboard or anything around here, you don’t write songs anymore, don’t tell anybody about it at all, you won’t even sing while doing the dishes!”

He smiled bittersweetly and shrugged. “We didn’t make it.”

“You run an underground punk venue, you should know that success doesn’t equal skill!” You insisted. “Or are you the exception for some reason?”

“You… are probably right. It seems I have some esteem issues to work on as well,” he acquiesced.

“You’re not a flop, at least not to me. And even if you were, you’re a lot more than that too.” You crossed your arms. “Like, if anything, you’re just retired.”

“Okay, now that really makes me sound old.”

“Says the man who literally just said, quote: ‘I’m too old for this shit.’”

“About the petty relationship stuff.” He wrinkled his nose. “Retirement is just too far.”

You giggled at his reaction, and while he rolled his eyes, the corner of his lips twitched, betraying his amusement too.

“Let me be even clearer then,” Kun declared, sandwiching one of your hands between both of his. “If you want something—a relationship—I’m all yours.”

You practically launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck and locking your lips together. He let out a noise of surprise, wrapping his arms around your waist to steady you nevertheless. You mumbled ‘mine’ against his mouth, to which he immediately nodded, cradling the back of your head and pulling you closer. He slowly eased back onto his elbows, encouraging you to straddle his hips as his thumbs stroked the bare skin of your thighs. You grabbed his shoulders, pushing him flat to the mattress as you disconnected from the kiss, sitting up higher to look down at him. He looked up at you, arching an eyebrow as he stayed down.

“Now what, pretty girl?” He questioned.

“Say it again?” You requested sweetly, leaning down to kiss his throat.

“I’m all yours.” The words vibrated under your lips, and you moved back up to kiss them right out of his mouth.

“Welcome home.” Mark was sitting on your couch when you got back to your own apartment the following afternoon, feet kicked up on the coffee table as his fingers flitted over a video game controller.

“Feet!” You reminded him loudly, throwing the front door closed.

Your roommate removed his feet from the coffee table, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees instead. He kept his eyes on the TV screen as you walked by. “So where were you?”

“I told you, I had lunch with my parents.”

“All night?” He snorted.

“You’re a smart boy, I’m sure you can figure it out.”

You went into your room to change out of your outfit from yesterday. You had already showered at Kun’s place but definitely needed some fresh clothes. Emerging from your room in a new set of pajamas, you plopped down onto the couch and stretched your legs into Mark’s lap.

“You usually give me a heads-up in case the guy’s an axe murderer,” Mark commented, shifting to accommodate your feet. “Were you wearing a crew hoodie for the venue when you walked in?”

“We work there?” You pointed out rather than admitting that it was actually Kun’s. “Anyway, sorry I forgot to text you. He wasn’t an axe murderer, by the way.”

“Figured as much when you came back with your head attached.”

When his character onscreen died, you snickered. “You suck.”

He turned the TV off, sitting back as he asked, “How’d lunch go?”

“Awful. They finally said the quiet part out loud: They think I’m a failure and will never support me doing this,” you sighed.

Mark winced, but nodded sympathetically, more than familiar with your strained family relationship. “Damn, I’m sorry, Y/N. I really thought they would’ve come around by now.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, it fucking sucks. But we’re really good, even if they’ll never come to a show.”

“Hell yeah!” He offered a hand out, and you smacked yours against it in a resounding high-five. “Ooh, hey, a couple of the guys from RFE told me about this guitar shop that I wanted to check out. Do you want to come? We can get dinner after?”

“Sure.”

Rock music played over the speakers of the guitar shop, guitars of all shapes and sizes covered the walls and displays, accented by the neon lights lining the floors and ceiling. You meandered with Mark, letting him gasp and gush over the instruments as you kept your hands to yourself, looking at the cool variety that was in stock.

“Anything in particular you guys are looking for?” The man that had been sat behind the glass counter called out as your path through the store brought you closer.

When you turned to look at him over your shoulder, intending to let him know that you all were just looking, he lifted his head from where he had been replacing the string on an acoustic guitar, shifting his long hair from his face and granting you your first good look at his features. He had large sunglasses perched on his head, dark makeup around his eyes, his nails painted black, and thanks to the black bleach tie-dyed tank top he wore, you could see the chain and lock tattoo going around one of his biceps.

You screeched to a halt, desperately smacking Mark to make sure you weren’t seeing things. Your friend yelled and fought back, swatting at your hand. “Dude, what the hell?”

The worker was still looking at you, amused confusion on his face as he tilted his head curiously. “Is everything okay?”

“Sorry, this might be weird—Were you in a band like ten years ago?” You asked hesitantly, despite being very sure of the answer yourself.

Whatever he thought was going on, he clearly hadn’t been expecting that, looking pleasantly surprised as he sat up a bit straighter on his stool. “Yeah, actually. I—”

“You played bass, and your band was called Vizions,” you finished. “Yuta.”

Yuta chuckled. “Right on the money.”

“Seriously?” Mark’s eyes were popping out of his head.

“We saw you guys perform a few times, actually.” You pointed between you and your friend. “In like, high school.”

“High school?” Yuta must have had the same realization that Kun did, but just smirked. “Cool. You guys are actually not going to believe this, hold on—” He stood up, leaning over the counter to yell out towards another section of the store, “Hey! C’mere!”

A few moments later, another man came around the corner, looking a bit out of place. He was wearing a rainbow pastel checkered sweatervest over a white button-up shirt, with brown corduroy pants and sensible-looking tennis shoes. His light brown hair had soft waves as it was neatly cut and styled, and he pushed a pair of square clear-framed glasses up the bridge of nose. As he stopped at the counter near you, Mark, and Yuta, you could faintly make out the faded marks where he had let piercings close up in his eyebrows, nose, along the cartilage of his ears, and a few open ones on his earlobes that had no jewelry in them. The change in style threw you off for an extra second, but seeing him next to Yuta gave you enough context to place his face as well.

“TY!” You immediately named the newcomer.

He startled, but his features were immediately overcome by a bashful smile, blushing from his ears to his neck. “Please, Taeyong. Nobody calls me that anymore.”

“Right, sorry…”

“It’s fine…?”

“Oh, Y/N, and Mark,” you introduced both of you.

“They used to go to our gigs when they were in high school,” Yuta informed Taeyong with a grin.

Taeyong paused on this, letting out a short sigh. “As a teacher, I will say that I can’t condone that anymore… but we may or may not have had fakes in high school as well.”

You perked up. “You’re a teacher now?”

“Yes, I teach music at a primary school.”

“I own this place,” Yuta added, gesturing to the guitar store. “Do some songwriting on the side.”

“That’s so cool that you guys still do music stuff!” You said brightly.

“We’re not the only ones,” Taeyong said. “Kun, our keyboardist, he works at a music venue. The other two, not so much. Johnny, our drummer, he’s a tattoo artist, but he goes to so many gigs it’s like he never left the scene. And then Jaehyun…”

Both of them laughed, and you and Mark exchanged a glance as you were on the outside of the joke.

Taeyong continued, “Stay at home father of four.”

“That’s fucking crazy.” Mark shook his head.

“Well, that’s pretty much why Vizions is no more,” Yuta explained. “Jaehyun’s girlfriend got pregnant, and he wanted to be a dad more than he wanted to be a rockstar. We decided that was a good place to call it, and started doing our own stuff.”

You shot Mark a look. “If you leave the band because you knock a girl up, I’m going to kill you.”

He held his hands up defensively. “Woah! So not called for! And who was at some mystery guy’s house last night?”

“Shut up!”

“You brought it up first!”

Taeyong cut into your squabbling, “You guys have a band?”

“Yeah, it’s called ‘Doing this Again!’” You answered brightly, jabbing your elbow into Mark’s side to make sure he knew that you had won. “I play keys and do some vocals.”

“I play guitar and sing,” Mark added through gritted teeth. “We’ve got another guitar, drummer, and bass.”

“You got any upcoming shows?” Yuta asked.

“We uh, we actually have a recurring slot at Venue:Hell every other week,” you answered. “We rotate out with another band, Roses for Eyes. Our next set is this Thursday, but there’s a special event next month, Retro Rewind.”

Taeyong and Yuta exchanged a confused look before the shop owner spoke up. “Wait, Kun’s place?”

“Yeah, he’s the manager.”

“Have you told him you know about our band?”

You nodded. “He signed my CD.”

“You should’ve brought it,” Mark clicked his tongue regretfully.

“You still have one of our albums?!” Taeyong’s eyes went wide.

“She’s obsessed,” your roommate muttered.

“Shut up, no I’m not,” you hissed back, smacking his arm this time. “You say that like your first electric guitar wasn’t the same kind Taeyong had because you—”

Mark slapped a hand over your mouth. “It’s a good guitar!”

You stuck your tongue out, and he immediately jerked his hand back, wiping it on his pants. “Gross! God knows where that thing was last night. Do I need to get a shot or something?”

“I’m going to shave your head in your sleep.”

You entered the green room just enough to toss your bag onto the couch, then pivoted right around. “Be back!”

“Where are you going?” Jungwoo called after you.

“To piss!”

Walking right past the bathroom, you stopped outside the closed admin office door, knocking on it eagerly.

“If you’re Yangyang, figure it out yourself!” Kun’s annoyed voice rang out from inside.

You poked your head in, offering him a sheepish smile. “Bad time?”

The peeved look on his face faded, and he waved you in with a tired smile. “No, not at all. Perfect timing, actually.”

“Why’s that?” You quietly closed the door behind you, moving to lean against the desk.

“I was stressed out, and seeing you makes me feel better.”

“You’re in the same clothes as when I brought you lunch yesterday,” you observed suspiciously, then looked over at the rumpled pillow and blanket on the futon. “Did you sleep here?”

“We had these back-to-back events—”

“You live a block away!”

“I went home to shower—”

“But you couldn’t grab a change of clothes while you were there? Or sleep there?”

He rubbed the back of his neck guiltily. “Old habits, I guess.”

You tilted your head. “What?”

“After Vizions, when I first got hired, business at the venue wasn’t really great. The owner at the time let me crash here until I could afford my own place.” He stared at the old futon and chuckled, “Turns out the venue was failing because the owner was keeping everything for himself. When the current owners took over, they started paying me a living wage and suddenly I had an apartment and a real mattress.”

“Kun.”

He turned his gaze from the piece of furniture up to you. “Hm?”

“That’s not your life anymore,” you told him firmly. “No shitty boss, no shitty futon, none of that.”

“Ah, you’re right,” he sighed, then a sly smirk creeped across his lips. “I might be more inclined to sleep in my own bed if I had a pretty girl in it, though.”

“A pretty girl?” You echoed pointedly.

“Just one.” Kun picked up your hand to kiss the back of it. “Just you, pretty girl.”

“Are you closing?”

“Mhm. I can give you my key if you don’t want to wait around here after your set.”

“Is it a dance night?”

“Mhm.”

You closed your eyes as you thought, enjoying the feeling of him pressing more kisses to your hand and fingers. “I’ll hang out.”

“Can’t wait.”

When your eyes fluttered open, they landed on the futon again, and your mind was still stuck in that bygone era that Kun had told you about, after his band broke up. You squeezed his hand to get his attention. “I forgot to tell you—Mark and I went to this guitar shop the other day.”

Kun sat up to look at you as you spoke, keeping a gentle hold on your hand. “Oh yeah? He get anything?”

“A new capo, but uh, the shop was actually owned by Yuta.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”

“And Taeyong was there too.”

“A two-for-one, huh? Lucky you,” he laughed, easing back into his office chair again. “I think you’re just missing Jaehyun now?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Kun, why did you make it sound like your band broke up because you guys didn’t make it? They told us about Jaehyun having kids…”

“It never felt right to me to blame the kids, or even Jaehyun.” Kun ran a hand through his hair.

You frowned. “I don’t think it’s blaming anybody to say that he wanted to be a dad more than he wanted to be a rockstar. That’s just… what being a person is like. One day you want to be one thing, and then something happens and you want to be something else.”

“You make some good points,” he admitted. “I’ve never thought of it like that.”

“Not just a pretty face, hm?” You teased, getting to your feet.

He stood up as well, pecking your cheek. “Never said you were, baby. Beauty and brains, of course.”

You grabbed the back of his neck, pulling his lips to yours. As his mouth moved with yours sweetly, one of his hands cupped your cheek, the cool metal of his rings resting against your skin. A timid knock came at the closed door, and he let out a low groan against your lips. As Kun pulled back to address whoever was at the door, you peppered barely-there kisses along his jaw and neck.

“If you’re Yangyang, fuck off!” He called out, grip tightening on your hip when you nipped just above the collar of his venue crew t-shirt, on the front of his throat.

“No, not Yangyang,” Yangyang replied, his voice garbled as he deepened it in an attempt to disguise it. “Uh, I’m uhm, Sicheng! Yangyang wanted me to ask you about—” He was cut off by a hacking cough, then resumed in his normal voice, though a little strained, “Fuck! God! How does he do that? Felt like I was deepthroating my own tongue! Ugh!”

You burst into laughter, immediately trying to muffle it behind your hands.

“Woah! You got a girl in there, Kun?” His shit-eating grin was audible through the door. “We always joked about what the futon was for, but I didn’t know you got down like that, old man! Do you want me to leave? ‘Cause like—”

“Yes, I would like for you to leave because you are giving me a migraine!” Kun finally cut him off loudly.

“Alright, alright! Don’t need to tell me twice!” Yangyang acquiesced. “Doing this Again is going to start their soundcheck soon, so maybe keep it down? Or don’t, it should actually be the perfect cover for any—”

“Liu Yangyang!”

“Bye!”

Finally, you could hear the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hallway, and lowered your hand from your mouth, letting out a few giggles. Kun wiped his face from forehead to chin, red with anger. You could even spot a vein on his neck that wasn’t always visible.

“I’m going to kill that boy one day,” he swore, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I think I understand vampires now.”

He blinked at you. “What?”

You poked his neck vein. “I get it…”

He grabbed your hand with both of his, bringing it down, away from his neck. “And on that very normal note, pretty girl, you have a soundcheck to do.”

“You love that I’m extremely normal and say very normal things,” you teased, heading towards the door.

Before you could make it, he tugged on your hand, bringing you back into his arms. He dipped his head to attach his lips to your neck, teeth finding a spot that had already been fading. He finished it off with one last tender kiss to the area.

“There,” he murmured. “We can match.”

“I am definitely late for soundcheck now,” you whispered, reaching for the doorknob behind you with one hand even as you pulled him in for one more kiss with the other.

“Have fun, baby.”

With one last peck, you opened the office door and slipped out. Amazingly, you didn’t bump into Yangyang in the hallway. Instead, you quite literally tripped over him turning the corner out of the hallway and into the main floor area.

“Shit! Sorry, Yang!” You apologized as you stumbled over the employee who was squatted down behind the wall.

“Wait, Y/N?!” He didn’t even seem to care that you had just knocked him to the floor, scrambling to get to his feet and follow you as you hurried towards the stage.

The rest of your band was already set up for soundcheck, tuning their instruments and making other tweaks.

“Bathroom’s over there,” Chenle deadpanned into his mic, pointing to the ladies’ room on the opposite side of the floor.

“I peed and then got caught up talking to Kun.” You jumped up onto the stage, grabbing your in-ears and pack that somebody had already gotten out for you. “You see, people can travel from one place to another using these things attached to our torsos called legs.”

Jisung giggled from behind you as Chenle rolled his eyes. Yangyang was still looking between you and the hallway, obviously bewildered.

“You were in there when I was talking to him?” Yangyang asked, face screwed up in confusion.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“There wasn’t anything for me to say?” You retorted, putting in one of your in-ears. “He was pissed at you, dude.”

“What were you guys talking about?”

“Retro Rewind.”

Jungwoo interrupted, “As thrilling as this play-by-play of Y/N’s conversation with Kun is, we’ve really got to start our soundcheck, Yang.”

“Sorry, yeah.” Yangyang shook his head, jumping over the ropes that served to divide the main floor from the crew-only entrance to backstage. He disappeared behind the curtain, emerging by his sound equipment just off-stage.

“Pizza?” Jisung suggested hopefully as soon as you all stumbled into the green room off the stage.

A chorus of agreeable sounds—varying from cheers to grunts—came from around the room, a new rush of energy pumping through your friends at the mention of food.

You packed your bag, but didn’t put your two cents in on the prospective pizza order. They ended up split on what restaurant to go to, and looked to you to be the tiebreaker.

You held your hands up. “I’m hanging out here. You guys will just have to play rock-paper-scissors or something.”

“You’re staying here?” Jungwoo cocked his head curiously.

“And I won’t be home tonight,” you told Mark specifically.

Mark’s jaw dropped. “He’s here?!”

“Who?” “What?” “Who are you talking about?” “Huh?” The others clambered around you two for a scrap of context.

“Y/N has been seeing a mystery guy who she swears is not an axe murderer, but she refuses to tell me anything about,” your roommate narrowed his eyes at you.

“God, it hasn’t even been a week, and you wonder why I don’t want to tell you anything,” you scoffed.

“Uh, sorry I don’t want you to get axe murdered, dude?”

“If I get axe murdered, you can get up at my funeral and say ‘I told her so.’”

“Come on.” It was surprisingly Chenle who saved you, grabbing Mark’s backpack and yanking him away from you. “I’m hungry and you’re taking too long.”

“Dude!”

Mark flailed as Jungwoo joined in, taking Mark’s hand in his to drag him along too. “Pizza!”

Jisung gave you a quiet wave goodbye as he followed the others, leaving you in a remarkably silent green room. You let out a deep sigh to calm yourself down, then walked out as well. Your bandmates made quick work of hauling Mark out, as you didn’t see or hear any of them when you stepped into the main floor. Keeping close to the wall, you sneaked around to the back office, intending on dropping off your bag before finding Kun. Instead, you found Yangyang in the office, nosing around for something.

“Uh, what are you doing?” You asked, plopping your bag onto the empty office chair.

Yangyang shot to his feet, spinning around to flash you an obviously guilty smile. “Oh, you’re still here.”

“Yeah, I’m hanging out for a bit,” you replied noncommittally. “What are you doing?”

“Close the door?”

You obliged, stepping and shutting the office door behind you. “Okay?”

“Promise not to tell Kun?”

“What are you doing? Booby trapping his office?”

“No, it’s not April Fools yet.”

“You’re going to booby trap his office for April Fools?”

“Pff, no!”

You arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “So what are you doing now?”

“Looking for proof,” he whispered, rubbing his hands together. “I’ve worked here for like three years and the old man’s never had a partner, talked about going on dates, brought anybody around, nothing. Now, in one week, he’s been late to work, come to work with hickeys, had somebody bring him food, has been smiling down at his phone instead of rolling his eyes at it—He’s humming, for fuck’s sake, Y/N! Humming! I’ve never seen him consistently in such a good mood since… ever!”

“Maybe that’s just because you piss him off all the time,” you pointed out.

“But the rest of it!”

“What kind of proof do you think you’re going to find in the office? His diary?” You snorted.

“Ooh, you think?”

You stared at him.

“You’re fucking with me,” he realized. “That’s not funny.”

You were already giggling. “It really is.”

Yangyang pushed the rolling chair out of the way to wake the computer up, cursing when he saw that it was locked.

“Anyway, why are you so pressed about Kun’s love life?” You questioned, watching Yangyang type in wrong password after wrong password.

“Aren’t you curious?” He asked. “I know you haven’t worked here as long, but the man is an enigma. After three years, I feel like I know as much about him as I did on my first day.”

“Have you tried talking to him? Since you’re so curious?”

“Have you?” He retorted, then his face lit up like he’d gotten an idea. He turned away from the computer that he still hadn’t unlocked. “Actually, you do talk to Kun, right? About like, your weekly slot and stuff at least, right?”

“Yeah…?” You answered hesitantly, unsure of where he was going with this.

Yangyang suddenly lunged forward to grab both your hands, smushing them between his as he pleaded with you. “Can you find out for us if he’s seeing anybody? Like, not be super obvious, but try to see if he’ll bring it up? Or say something about them?”

“‘Us?’” You repeated the one word that had caught your attention. “I take it the rest of the crew are in on this too?”

His eyes widened as he seemed to have realized his slip-up, then he grinned. “You’re clever, Kun won’t stand a chance. Thanks!”

“I didn’t say yes!” You yelled after him as he ran out of the office.

With a shake of your head, you walked out of the office as well, quietly shutting the door. Out on the main floor, you milled around for a little bit, ordering a drink from Sicheng at the bar before chatting with a few venue regulars about this and that.

“I’m excited for Retro Rewind,” Sunny, a regular who was a little younger than you, buzzed with excitement, and maybe a bit too much alcohol. “I love seeing you guys and Roses on the same night!” She suddenly gasped. “You should totally do a collab song or something! That would be fucking awesome!”

You laughed, endeared by her enthusiasm as always. “Could be fun. Those guys are pretty cool.”

“Oh my god, don’t look, but he’s totally looking over here!” Tsuki, the other regular that you were talking to, whisper-shouted over the music, grabbing her friend’s arm.

Sunny immediately whipped her head around rather obviously. You also peered around a bit more inconspicuously, curious as to who they were talking about. Sunny must have spotted whoever it was, as she squeaked and ducked her head again. The only person you met eyes with was Kun, who had finally stopped running around and was now calmly watching over the crowd from the back wall. You gave him a little smile before turning back to the two squealing girls in front of you.

“What’s going on?” You asked, swirling your drink around in your glass then taking a sip.

“Sunny thinks the manager is cute,” Tsuki giggled, much to the chagrin of her friend, who belatedly smacked a hand over her mouth.

You choked on the sip that you had just taken, barely avoiding snorting it back out your nose. Thumping yourself on the chest, you managed to swallow it down instead of doing a spit take all over the patrons. Tsuki only laughed even harder as Sunny covered her face.

“You didn’t have to laugh that much,” Sunny whined.

“Sorry, sorry,” you apologized quickly. “Not laughing, just uh, just went down the wrong pipe.”

“She’s just sensitive because I like to tease her about how she comes to a music venue and doesn’t even look at any of the acts, she looks at the manager,” Tsuki explained.

“It’s called practicality!” Sunny huffed, then looked at you hopefully. “Is he single? Do you know?”

“W-Well…” You stammered, trying to figure out what the hell you were even supposed to say right now.

“Oh, he’s totally like, married with five kids or something,” Tsuki snickered, making Sunny even more distraught.

“He doesn’t have a wedding ring!” Sunny argued.

Finally, you decided to go with, “He’s seeing someone.” At the way the girl’s face immediately fell, you awkwardly added, “Sorry, Sunny…”

Tsuki wrapped an arm around her shoulders as Sunny mumbled, “‘S fine, he wasn’t even that cute.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” her friend murmured supportively, patting her on the head. Tsuki looked up at you with a knowing smile. “I think we’re going to get another drink. Thanks for hanging out with us, Y/N.”

“You’re really fucking cool,” Sunny sighed, squeezing your hand as she let Tsuki guide her away.

Skimming your eyes over the crowd, you made eye contact with Kun again, still monitoring the room. You slid off your stool at the bar and shouldered your way through the crowd until you could sidle right up next to him. Leaning back against the wall, you propped up one foot, taking another sip of your drink and watching the crowd too.

“Found Yangyang snooping through the office earlier,” you informed him.

Kun groaned, letting his head drop back against the concrete wall with a thunk. “Do I need to check my chair for thumbtacks now or some shit?”

“That’s what I thought too, but you’re safe until April Fools.”

“So what was he doing today?”

“Looking for proof that you’re seeing someone.”

“And did he find any?”

“Nope. Well, technically yes, since I was in there, but he didn’t realize it,” you said with a grin. “He recruited me to try to covertly get information about it from you.”

“Kid’s a fucking idiot.”

“Not completely, the reasons he gave as to why he thinks you’re seeing someone were pretty observant.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Let’s see… Hickeys, you’ve been late to work, had a mysterious person bring you food, and are apparently smiling at your phone and humming.” You listed them off on the fingers of one hand. “I think if he doesn’t find proof of you seeing someone, Yang is going to start doomsday prepping.”

He rolled his eyes. “He needs a hobby.”

“Maybe he should take up crochet or something.”

“Anything to keep him out of my business.” Kun crossed his arms over his chest. “Is everything okay with those regulars you were talking to?”

“Sunny and Tsuki?” You tried to find them in the crowd, spotting them sitting in stools that they had scooted together at the bar, Sunny already looking much livelier again. “Yeah, I think she’ll be fine.”

“Good. What was it? Too much to drink?”

“Probably a little of that.” You leaned in towards him, your shoulder pressing against his as you lowered your voice, “She asked me if you were single.”

“Wait, really?” Puffs of air washed over your cheek as he chuckled.

“What are you laughing about?”

“Sorry—What did you say?” There was still a curl of humor in his tone.

“I said you were seeing someone.” You squinted at him as he started laughing again. “What?”

“Not laughing at you, baby, sorry,” he said through chuckles, his hand that was closer to the wall sneaking under your jacket and pulling you closer by the hip. “Just thinking about how many guys have asked me or the other staff about you. It’s kinda funny that it happened to you.”

“Oh? And what did you tell them?”

“That it’s against our policy to give out private information on our talent, of course.”

“Ooh, how professional,” you teased, biting on your straw.

“I am nothing if not a professional,” he smiled, thumb running over the skin just above your waistband.

You checked the time. “Only half an hour left.”

“Counting the minutes, pretty girl?”

“Until I’ve got you all to myself? Shamelessly.”

“Me too.” He looked at his watch. “Twenty-nine minutes.”

You let out a melodramatic sigh, looking around at where the other venue staff were. There was no line at the merch counter, Ten scrolling on his phone with his feet kicked up. “I’m going to go bother Ten for a bit. I’m afraid this drink is starting to taste like I should kiss you stupid right now.”

Kun tightened his hold on your hip, reaching for your drink. “Can I?”

You let him take the half-empty glass. He shook it first, the ice cubes clinking around, then he drank from the rim. A small sip, then another one. He tilted his head back and forth, humming thoughtfully before nodding, “You’re right. It does taste like that.”

That was all the permission you needed, grabbing his face with two hands and eagerly connecting your lips. He still tasted like your slightly sweet drink, and you greedily took kiss after kiss, biting down on his bottom lip. Kun groaned softly into your mouth, letting his thumb dip below your waistband then back up. Your head was spinning as your blood roared in your ears and you wished he’d just drop the fucking drink to have both hands on you, shattered glass and spilled alcohol be damned.

To his credit, he didn’t drop the glass, even when you suddenly pushed him back against the wall, kissing the column of his throat instead. When you lightly bit at an unmarred spot, he hissed and laughed, pinching your side.

“You were serious about that vampire thing, huh?” He teased. “Menace.”

“Who, me?” You asked innocently, taking the drink back and finishing it off.

He chuckled, using two hands on your hips to turn the two of you around, pressing you back against the wall now. Your free hand bunched the fabric of the front of his shirt, pulling his mouth to yours again. Kun had just grabbed your chin with one hand, tongue entwining with yours, when you felt him suddenly turn away from you. You instinctually whined at the loss, trying to pull at his shoulder as your eyes fluttered open, pout already forming on your kiss-swollen lips.

“—just can’t play grab-ass here, guys.” You caught the tail-end of what Yangyang was saying as he seemed to be giving some pre-rehearsed spiel, his eyes squeezed closed as he talked. Once he was finished, he opened his eyes, immediately jumping back as he registered who exactly he was talking to, “Jesus Christ! Ahh! What the hell?! What the fuck?!”

“Shut up.” Kun scowled at him.

“No?!” Yangyang replied indignantly. “What are you doing?!”

“Telling you to shut up.”

“Y/N!” The sound tech looked at you next, horrified. “You really want to do this?”

“Excuse me?” Kun snorted.

“Kun, come on dude, you’re better than this—”

“Excuse me?!” You pushed past Kun, fully intending on giving Yangyang a shiner.

Kun held you back, but you could tell that he was getting pissed too. “Yangyang, what exactly do you think is going on?”

“You’re cheating on your new girl with Y/N!” Yangyang gestured wildly. “Y/N, I totally thought you were a girl’s girl, by the way—”

“Shut up!” Kun yelled, loud enough that a few patrons even looked over. He glared at his employee, “You’re an idiot. I’m not cheating on anybody with Y/N.”

His face screwed up with confusion. “So you’re not seeing anybody? Then what was all—”

“It’s me!” You finally blurted out. “He’s seeing me! We’re seeing each other! Fucking Christ, Yang, you saw us making out and can’t process that?”

Yangyang blinked at you. “But he’s so… old?”

This time you had to grab Kun’s arm to keep him from doing something, and the sound tech skittered back a couple more steps.

“Go away, Yangyang,” Kun demanded sharply.

“God, can’t believe the couple Ten asked me to break up was you guys,” he shuddered, walking off.

You and Kun exchanged a knowing look. “Definitely not a coincidence…” You scoffed.

Looking back to the merch counter, you saw Ten wiping tears from his undereye, still laughing as he held onto the counter for stability.

“Does Ten have a car?” You asked.

“Yes, why?”

“I want to key it.”

Kun laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “As fun as that would be, how about I schedule him and Yangyang for back-to-back closing-opening shifts for a full week next month instead?”

“Oh, boo.” You let out a huff, leaning back against him affectionately. “Vandalism and property damage would’ve been so cathartic.”

He kissed your cheek apologetically. “I know, baby, I’m sorry.”

You were gently pulled out of sleep by a quiet tune and fingertips skimming over your forearm. Yawning, you squinted an eye open, watching Kun’s fingers trace the lines of your tattoos. With your mind still foggy with sleep, you listened to what he was humming.

“Hey…” You mumbled, shifting onto your back.

“Hey,” he repeated humorously, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“You were humming it again.” You rubbed your eye.

“Did I wake you up? Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. That song…” You frowned. “It’s not from somewhere?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hm.” You repeated the tune, your throat a little scratchy this early in the morning. “It’s nice.”

“You think?”

Rolling over, you buried your face in the crook of his neck. “Mhm.”

Kun rested a hand on your back. “Your phone was going off, by the way. You were still sleeping, I put it on silent, hope you don’t mind.”

You let out a big sigh, blindly reaching out towards the nightstand where your phone was. He grabbed it for you, placing it in your seeking hand. Turning your head just enough to see your phone screen, you saw three missed calls from Mark and a text.

“He better be dead,” you groaned. “Or I’m going to kill him.”

Opening the text, you saw that it was only one word, and from around two a.m., several hours before the phone calls.

[mark: KUN????????????????????????????]

[you: wrong number?]

You decided that you’d call him back if he didn’t text back in ten minutes.

That determination was useless, however, as he almost immediately called you. You declined it, texting him instead.

[you: DUDE are you fucking dying or something??]

[mark: the axe murderer is KUN????????]

[you: did yangyang text the whole venue gc or smth???]

[you: also he’s not an axe murderer jfc]

Another incoming call, which you once again declined.

[you: im going to block you if you keep calling me]

[mark: ARE YOU WITH HIM RN?!!!!?!??!?!?!]

[you: girl where tf else would i be? i told you i wasn’t coming home]

[mark: ok i did a few calming breaths]

[mark: idk what ur talking abt w yangyang but we figured it out at pizza last night. chenle saw ur FRESH HICKEY AFTER COMING OUT OF KUNS OFFICE]

[you: i hate to sound like my parents rn but maybe u guys actually should get real jobs and leave me tf alone]

[you: average unemployed friend behavior tbh]

[mark: bro the call is coming from inside the unemployment office??]

[you: actually it’s coming from kun’s bed rn xx]

Finally, your phone was silent, and you harshly dropped it back onto the nightstand. You only had a few moments of peace before a different ringer was going off. Letting out a guttural groan, you smushed your face into your pillow as Kun reached over you to grab his phone.

“Morning, Mark,” he answered, sounding very amused.

Your head snapped up automatically, eyes going wide with fear at whatever the hell your friend was saying. Kun rested one of his hands behind his head as he leaned back against his headboard, listening with interest.

“Oh, I thought you had a question about work,” he said with a grin. “You know, it’s against our policy to give out private information about our talent.”

You covered your face with your hands, shaking your head.

“Mhm, see you, Mark.”

As Kun set his phone back down, you lamented into your palms, “So much for keeping it private at first.”

“Yeah, I think we forfeited that last night,” he reminded you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

You took your face out of your hands to properly argue. “Not my fault you looked like that.”

“I thought it was the drink?”

“Mm, both.”

He chuckled. “Anyway, did I mention that I’m off today?”

“All day?” You looked at him hopefully.

“All day,” he confirmed. “I don’t have to be back at the venue until tomorrow night.”

“We’re practicing our Retro Rewind set later, but other than that, I’m free today too.” You beamed. “Can we go somewhere?”

“Somewhere?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Somewhere other than the venue or your apartment.”

“I do have some errands to run…” Kun mused. “Groceries, the laundromat, I have a package to drop off at the post office—”

“No, I mean like a real date!”

“There we go, just wanted you to use your words, baby,” he snickered, pinching your bottom lip. “You’re pouting.”

“You’re being mean to me.” You rolled onto your back, your elbows getting tired from propping up your head for that long.

“Aw, I’m sorry.” He leaned down to kiss you. “Get dressed, I know where to take you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Not the grocery store, laundromat, or post office?”

“A real date, I promise.”

The destination Kun had in mind was apparently within walking distance, as the two of you took off down the sidewalks hand-in-hand.

“So what’s your day job?” He asked.

You weren’t expecting that. “What?”

“What do you do when you’re not doing music? You know, to pay rent and stuff?”

“Oh, I work with a temp agency and a babysitting agency. Picking up gigs here and there, you know?”

He almost seemed amused. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You touched your nose jewelry habitually. “I know I don’t look like your average office worker or childcare professional, but I clean up good, okay? Take out the nose ring and eyebrow piercing, put on some longsleeves, they never know. That’s why I don’t dye my hair crazy colors.”

“What sort of places have you temped at?”

“Lots of different places.” You hummed as you thought through a brief list of the various businesses that you’d worked at. “I usually do their filing, answer phones, that kind of stuff. I’m really only there for a few weeks at a time. I think the longest place I worked at was for… three or four months? That was actually at a music studio, so it was pretty cool.”

“Meet anybody cool?”

“There were some big names that came through. I got everyone’s coffee.” You shook your head, then looked at Kun curiously. “Have you ever thought about working somewhere other than the venue?”

“Oh, plenty of times,” he sighed. His face turned contemplative as he went on to admit, “I didn’t tell you the whole truth before. I tried to get back into songwriting and composing dozens of times over the years. I tried everything, every process out there, every tip and trick I could find—nothing. I couldn’t even remix our old tracks into something palatable. The staff at the venue only know I used to play the keyboard because when I finally gave up, I sold mine to Dejun.”

You couldn’t help the frown on your face when he described the creative block he had faced. “When was that?”

“Three, maybe four years ago now?” He seemed much less perturbed by it than you, like he had long accepted his fate. “I like working at the venue because I like being in the scene, even if I can’t contribute anything new to it.”

“That tune that you’ve been humming—”

“—Is not going to go anywhere. That happened before. I would think I had something, but as soon as I sat down to write, nothing,” he insisted calmly. “It’s fine.”

“So you just… got rid of everything?”

“It’s not like I denounced music forever,” he chuckled, squeezing your hand. “Just changed my focus.”

You thought about your own band, about all the half-written songs in your notes that you were working on, the demos you had recorded on your phone that you hoped to release someday. Would you let it all go one day too?

“We’re here,” Kun announced, gesturing to the business you had found yourself in front of.

“Mini golf?” You strained to read the faded sign.

“Unless it’s not good enough. I mean, I’ve got a long list of things that aren’t the post office…”

“No, Kun, this is perfect,” you laughed. “Let’s do it.”

“Great.” He smiled, pecking your cheek before grabbing the front door for you.

Tonight was Retro Rewind, and the venue was abuzz with excitement. Doing this Again! was opening, and you were on stage waiting for the rest of your band to join you for your soundcheck. The staff were all bustling around getting set up, and you were at your keyboard, absorbed in your own world as you played around with a tune that had been stuck in your head.

Kun slowed to a stop in front of you, taking his headset off to listen with fascination. “That’s…”

“The tune you were humming. Plus some other stuff,” you confirmed, pausing your playing for the moment. “I figured since you weren’t going to do anything with it… I started messing around with it.” You jerked your head for him to join you. “C’mere.”

He obliged, hopping up on stage and letting you drag him behind your keyboard with you as you explained your idea. “I think it’ll be better layered. Can you play it an octave down?”

To your relief and delight, he didn’t argue, hands immediately finding familiar places on the keys to your left. As both of you started playing, you listened carefully.

“Mm… A step down?” You requested, and he immediately complied. You grinned. “Hell yeah.”

“And then it’s…” He trailed off as he followed your lead into the part that you had added onto his tune, playing it entirely by ear.

“Mhm, and then I was thinking you repeat and I would—”

He did as you said, repeating the melody as you added even more on top, making him absolutely beam. “Alright!”

“But then I get stuck there.” You frowned and took your hands off the keys. “On the bridge.”

“That little flair you had going…” Kun said carefully. “If you slowed it down, and dropped it a full octave…” He played a portion of your part again on his half of the keyboard exactly as he had described. “Could be something.”

“Play it again?”

“Mm?” He made an indicative noise as he went to do so.

You listened and contemplated it, slowly nodding. “Yeah, I liked that. Really moody.”

“You got any lyrics yet?”

“Nah, just messin’ with it.” You started from the beginning again. “If that’s alright with you. I was planning on having more to show you when I asked your permission to make a real song with your tune.”

Kun blinked at you, his hands sliding off the keys and hanging by his sides as he stared at you with wonder. “You really… want to?”

“Yeah, of course.” Your head bounced to the beat as you skipped to the moody bridge that he had just suggested. “I really like this, the more I hear it. That was a good—ack!”

Discordant notes rang out as Kun had surprised you by throwing his arms around you. You took a step back to stay upright, wrapping your arms around him too, rubbing his back.

“Uh, hi?” You murmured uncertainly.

“Yes, you have my permission. I-I’d be over the moon.” He cupped your cheeks, eyes sparkling as he looked at you. “God, you’re so perfect, baby.”

You let out a sputtering laugh, ducking your head as your face heated up from his adoring gaze. “Kun, fucking hell, you’ve got to warn me.”

“You never warn me.”

“Before doing what?”

“This.”

“Eh?!” You made an indignant noise, looking around at your general demeanor. “What am I doing? Breathing?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Okay, I can’t warn you every time I breathe.”

He snickered, giving you a quick peck. You huffed, immediately leaning back in for another, longer kiss, hooking one arm around his neck.

Giving a final wave to the audience, you ran off the stage arm-in-arm with Jungwoo, laughing and grinning madly. Your bandmates all followed, hugging and cheering. You all couldn’t take up space there for too long though as the next act got ready to go on. You hastily gave Roses for Eyes your best before heading further backstage. Chenle, Jungwoo, and Mark packed up their instruments and idly chatted with a couple of the acts that were hanging out in the cramped space. Everybody was sharing what instruments they could, meaning that the drumset and keyboard were staying onstage, which made yours and Jisung’s lives a bit easier.

“We’re gonna go catch some of Roses’ set,” Mark announced to the room in general, tapping your arm in a silent indication for you to join the rest of them. A few of the other performers who wouldn’t be going on until later got up as well, and you fell into the group too.

When you got backstage, however, your eyes were habitually searching for someone, and you quietly slipped away. The office door was thrown open as soon as you got to it, and a breathless smile came to Kun’s face when he saw you.

“Hey, I wanted to catch you when you came off stage, but there were way too many people.” He pecked your forehead. “You did so good, baby.”

“Thanks.” You kissed him on the lips. “Do you have time to watch RFE’s set? Or—”

“Hey, sorry.” Ten’s head poked around the corner into the hallway. He pointed over his shoulder into the main room. “Uh, these guys are saying they know you?”

Kun offered you an apologetic look, stepping past you down the hall. “Sorry, everyone says they know the manager. I’ll be—”

“Not you.”

With Ten’s gaze focused on you, you pointed to yourself in surprise. “Me?”

He nodded. You exchanged a confused glance with Kun, but as soon as you saw one of their heads poking over Ten’s shoulder, your jaw dropped.

“Nono, it’s fine, Ten,” you informed him hastily. He stepped aside to let the gaggle of men in.

Kun was possibly even more baffled than you. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We were invited,” Yuta informed him with a wide grin, gesturing to you.

“Oh my god, I didn’t think you’d actually come!” You bounced up and down with excitement, hugging him, then Taeyong, who was still in his kindly teacher attire.

Taeyong directed your attention to a figure at the back of the group. “We brought somebody.”

The man went to introduce himself, “Hey, I’m—”

“Jaehyun! Ah, sorry!” You slapped a hand over your mouth, thoroughly embarrassed.

“They said you might do that.” Jaehyun smirked, offering you a hand to shake. “It’s really nice to meet you, Y/N. You were awesome up there.”

“Thank you. It’s so cool to meet you.”

“Good to see you again, Y/N.” Johnny squeezed past Jaehyun to wrap you in a bearhug.

“Johnny! Hey!” Your greeting turned in a squeal of surprise as he lifted you off the ground. “Woah!”

Kun cleared his throat, appraising eye scanning over his former bandmates. “And uh, any particular reason I wasn’t told about this reunion?”

“We wanted to surprise you!” Taeyong explained as Johnny put you back down.

“Well, you succeeded,” Kun chuckled and crossed his arms, but you could tell that his smile didn’t reach his eyes, his gaze locked on where Johnny’s hand lingered on your back.

Giving Johnny one last friendly pat on the arm, you stepped back over to Kun’s side, eyes shining as you looked them all over. “Seriously, this is so cool. When was the last time you were all together?”

They looked at each other as they thought. Jaehyun asked, “It was probably for Juju’s birthday, right?” There were murmurs of agreement, and Jaehyun gave you a firm nod. “So, yeah, a couple months ago for my daughter’s fifth.”

“We’re going out after this, you guys should totally come!” You offered.

“Oh, your band?” Yuta surmised.

“The home team; us, Roses, some of the crew…” You trailed off, your eyes widening as soon as you realized your mistake. You winced as you turned to Kun, “Sorry, is that gonna be okay? I wasn’t thinking—”

“It’s fine,” he reassured you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “They all need something new to talk about anyway.”

The others exchanged a knowing look, Yuta pointing at Kun with a smile. “Mystery guy, I presume?”

“Wh—Ugh, you seriously remember that?” You groaned as Taeyong giggled behind his hand.

Kun glanced between the three of you, confusion apparent. “What?”

“When Mark and I went to his shop, Mark was freaking out about the ‘mystery guy’ I was seeing,” you explained. “I can’t believe you guys remember that.”

“You two were funny.” Yuta shrugged.

“Anyway, I think Roses for Eyes started their set,” Johnny cut in. “The drummer is one of my clients and I told him I would watch.”

Everyone acquiesced, starting to filter out of the cramped hallway and back to the main floor. You laced your fingers with Kun’s, making sure to not lose him in the crowd. He squeezed your hand back, following your lead.

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