Her mood continued to worsen as she walked to “Charle’s Diner,” the place she had been working at to earn whatever cash she could to get by. She knew precisely what made her head ache. She glanced once at the diner and walked past it, continuing towards the bar just a couple of stores down.

          One: Jung Hoseok. Everything about him irked her. The way he stared at her. The way he carried himself. The annoying little of the lips he’d do before threatening or “persuasive urging” as he liked to call it, other people. Most of all, she hated how he was constantly lying to everybody around him. She knew this was true due to her continual headache and buzzing she experienced every time she was around him. She rolled her neck again to shake the tension away.

          Two: “I promise”. The two words that she hated more than anything in the world. They were two words that if held true, could mean hope and faith and love. Sadly, and all too often, she only ever experienced the buzzing that indicated it to be lies. She scoffed to nobody in particular as she walked into the bar. Lightning would probably strike her dead before she would believe anybody actually meant the words “I promise”.

          “You’re early today,” the bartender behind the counter said. The night was slow and quite peaceful here. Only a few patrons were sitting here and there, interspersed throughout the area. A girl was on stage, playing a soulful tune on her guitar.

          Daeun reached into her pocket and took out $9.74. “Give me the largest quantity of whatever this can buy,” she pushed the money towards the bartender. He returned shortly with a tall glass of beer. She drank the liquid and sighed when she felt the buzzing behind her head being replaced with a buzzing of alcohol. Once she had finished half the glass, she finally spoke, “I’m taking the night shift.”

          “Didn’t that start ten minutes ago?” the bartender reached over and refilled her glass. The two of them looked up at the clock overhanging a filled shelf of alcoholic beverages. His hand was still on her She took the glass away from him and drank again. “Charle won’t mind. Besides, what type of model employee am I supposed to be if I go to work drunk. I’ll probably need to sit it out here,” the words starting to slur.

          Kim Namjoon sighed as he watched the girl. She would never change. It was a miracle that Charle was still giving her monthly paycheques with the amount of hours she had missed. Seeing as how the bar was pretty quiet, he shuffled off his bartender vest and made his way beside her. He grabbed another glass and filled a pitcher with beer before taking a seat beside her.

          Kim Namjoon. The second person in the world she could maybe call a friend. She liked him. He was always kind to her, watching over her like an older brother and just being there when she needed somebody to talk to. First being Seohyun, but probably only because they were living together.

          The cold November wind howled outside but he didn’t care that he was only wearing a thin jacket. The atmosphere of the bar was warm and all the people were smiling up at him. He was happy that they were all here to listen to his music. He did one last quick microphone check before starting his set for the night. He had barely started on his first song when an apple core landed beside his feet on stage. Looking up, he only saw a blur of grey before the metal can hit him in his eye. He stopped playing.

          Sitting at the front of the restaurant was a table full of drunk men. Their leader, Park Bongyoung, sneered up at Namjoon when he caught the other man staring at him. Namjoon met his gaze with steady eyes. ing Kim Namjoon. He hated this guy. He was always given the opportunity to first pick the better nights for performing. What was so great about his music anyways? They were just the noises manifested from Namjoon’s own mind. People liked to hear covers, which was what Bongyoung did. He was the singer. Namjoon was just a rapper.

          The bar was quiet as the viewers became interested in the new show that was about to happen. He was the one who deserved the special treatment. Not ing Kim Namjoon. Bongyoung took another can out from the trashbag beside him and threw it on stage. “You . Just get out of here. Your music is just like your stage. Full of garbage.”

          Namjoon didn’t know what to do. He could see the whole bar staring him and waiting for his response. He could feel that his pulse had significantly increased. To his left, the owner of the bar was also waiting for his response. Bongyoung threw another can at him ‐ this one not completely empty ‐ the contents creating a brown stain on his new shirt. Namjoon willed himself to stay calm all the while watching Bongyoung walk up closer to the stage. He wanted to hit this man so badly but he knew that if he did, the owner would not let him perform here ever again. He needed that more than his own pride and ego right now.

          Bongyoung had a good voice. Nobody would deny that. However, just having a good voice was not enough. The difference between him and Namjoon was that Namjoon sang with his heart. The customers came to hear music that was from the artist’s soul. Bongyoung could do all the covers he liked of songs singing about love or hope but without it ever meaning anything, his listeners would lose interest.

          There was a slow but rhythmic tap as the men walked around the stage. They left a trail of garbage behind them as they overturned all the bags. The smell of rotting food and sugary drinks created a smell displeasing to the nose. Bongyoung only continued to watch the stage being filled with Namjoon still sitting there. His smile morphed until it turned into an ugly smirk. “Garbage,” he said again. A can slowly rolled off the stage but before it could hit the ground, Bongyoung picked it up.

          Namjoon thought he would throw it back on the stage but instead, threw it with force right at Namjoon’s face. He felt sticky liquid drip down from his face and onto his shirt.

          It was at this moment that the rest of the people at the bar got into action. The owner and two other burlier men grabbed Bongyoung while another party jumped on stage. They roughly dragged Bongyoung’s friends off the stage and another pair of hands led Namjoon off stage.

          “You’ve been with Hoseok again, haven’t you, Daeun?” Namjoon commented the moment he sat down. She raised an eyebrow, question in her eyes. “I can smell the smoke off of you,” he replied to the question.

          She knew he disapproved of her seeing Hoseok. He vocalized that more than enough times. She shrugged. “He called a couple of days ago to meet for a game of billiards.”

          He scoffed. “Right. Billiards. Jung Hoseok and the rest of his gang wanting to meet you for a game of billiards. That must be code word for whatever illegal act he pulled you in for tonight.”

         She cast him a glance from between her bangs. Her fingers were long and lean, painted a dark maroon at the moment. They tucked her hair behind her ear and that was when he saw her cut on her neck.

          “You’re hurt,” he said, more as an observation for himself rather than her. He reached out towards her. She pulled back.

          “It’s nothing,” sweeping her hair back into place to hide the cut.

          Namjoon sighed as he stood up and walked back around the corner. “It’s nothing.” The two words every guy hated to hear from the mouth of a girl. He didn’t need to have her strange ability to know that those words were a lie. “I don’t get why you hang out with them. You’ve got a job, a decent place to live ‐ ”

          “Decent?” she cut him off to repeat, watching Namjoon bring out the first aid kit, “For goodness sakes. It’s just a small cut.” He handed her a packaged alcohol swipe.

          “Decent enough. Also, that blade has probably been in a thousand places. I’m just asking you to disinfect it.”

          She grumbled but listened anyways, knowing that it was true. She liked Namjoon. Her head never hurt around him.

          “As I was saying, create some space between you guys. I’m not going to be your dad and ask you to stop seeing them, but I just hate seeing you get hurt, alright?” He reached over when he saw that she was not even disinfecting the correct spot.

          He scrubbed at the shirt with such ferociousness somebody would have thought that it was the shirt who decided to stain itself rather than being stained by a person throwing beer at it. He had saved up just to buy this shirt. He wanted to look his best because he had received news that a well‐known producer may have been in the audience. Now he’d never know.

          “,” he swore and threw the shirt against the wall. The stain was never coming off. He was always going to be stuck in the ‐hole. Maybe he’d just give up trying to be a rapper in general and return home.

          Namjoon wasn’t from this area. He actually came from a well‐off family closer to the heart of the capital city. He was always a rebellious type, however and once he turned old enough, he took all the money out of his bank account and left. He had been wandering around for a while, just earning cash from playing on the streets. In his travel, he met another man but their encounter had been brief and Namjoon forgot about him. Three months into his escapade and more than half of his money gone, the man had called him telling him that he was planning to open up his own music label. He knew how being a producer had been Namjoon’s dream for a long time and he insisted that Namjoon would be the first artist to be signed.

          The catch was that Namjoon needed to invest in the label before anything.

          In addition to being rebellious, Namjoon was impulsive and acted upon his heart before his brain. Upon hearing about the opportunity, he invested the rest of his money and hopped on the next train bound for the quiet neighbourhood outside the main city. He arrived in town, never found the man and had ended up spending the rest of his time here. He continued to make music ‐ that was his passion. But he was unsatisfied. He did not want to be standing on the stage of an old man’s bar. He wanted to be standing on stage in front of all his fans.

          He got up off the floor of the bathroom and put his shirt back on. Now that the water had dried, the stain was considerably lighter than before. It wasn’t too bad. He counted the cash the owner had stuffed into his jean pocket. An apology for what he had to endure tonight. Perfect, just enough to cover this month’s rent.

          “They’re lying, you know? They don’t actually think you . That guy is just intimidated by you because he knows how much better you are than him.” A hand extends around the corner as soon as he steps out of the bathroom. It holds a fresh t shirt.

          He looks up to meet the eyes the person. Daeun stands, not exactly meeting his gaze, as she takes a sip of the drink.

          “Hope you don’t mind. I helped myself to a refill of beer. The boss told me to tell you that he left the keys to this place on the counter.”

          He recognized her. She showed up periodically and only ever ordered cheap beer. Tonight, she had on some type of uniform. “Charle’s Diner” her name tag said. “Chae Daeun” it also told him. She had caught his eye the previous times she showed up. She’d drink most of the night away but for some strange reason, would always be sober enough to leave the place on her own two feet. She was never with anybody and nobody ever approached her either. While her features were not unpleasing to the eye, it was the scowl that scared away men before they could talk to her. That plus the hatred she seemed to have when one even looked her way.

          He takes the shirt and asks, “How do you know?”

          “I can tell when people are lying.”

          “How do I know that you aren’t the one lying to me?”

          “I don’t lie. Ever. I hate liars.”

           “Right.” He strips himself of his own shirt and slips the new one over. It fit him perfectly. The shirt was white and unblemished. Maybe he should just be like this shirt. Give up the dream of being a rapper His parents had always wanted him to become a dentist like them. It wouldn’t be too late to start school again.

          She turns to leave, “I like your music by the way.”

          Namjoon sighed and looked at the sleeping figure sprawled across the bar counter. He didn’t even know why those words impacted him the way it did. But when she said that, he had felt a surge of motivation again. He decided then and there to pursue his dream with all of his being. He had about six songs written out and he was working on his seventh one. His first album would soon be complete and he knew that he wanted Daeun to be the first one to listen to it.

          “Please stop hurting yourself,” he whispered and brushes a hair away from her sleeping face.

At last! An update! :) I hope you guys enjoy this one.