Kyunghwan’s base was stinkingly out of tune, and neither the big guy nor Chanyeol could fix it without making the other chords sound wacko. Kilwoo sat messing with his laptop, headphones buried in his ears, neck bobbing in concentration. Hongki would be finished ringing up a customer soon, so Kyunghwan decided to just toss the thing off to him. 

“Kyunghwan, what are you doing this spring break?” 

“This break? Nothing. Being here, I guess. Why?” The big guy sat back in his chair, yawned, and handed Hongki the base without a word. 

Hongki grabbed Chanyeol’s tuner, sat on the floor, and disappeared behind his flow of hair falling over his face. 

“You don’t wanna do anything cool? You know, before we go off to college?” 

Kyunghwan seemed to think about it hard for a few minutes.

“Nah. The cool things start when you go off to college, man. The break between high school and college is probably like, the most boring and lazy time ever. Which is fine with me, I love being lazy.” 

Before Chanyeol could refute, Kilwoo tore his headphones out and threw them against his laptop keyboards. 

“I’m starving! Chanyeol, where’s our free chicken?” 

Chanyeol shot all his energy to controlling the muscles on his face, trying to look as casual as possible, not at all like he was lying. 

“Bomi doesn’t work at the chicken place anymore. It was only like a week-long thing. She’s working at some karaoke shop now.” 

It was a stinking lie because Chanyeol had never asked, but he at least felt better about it being a fairly accurate guess, based on the conversations he’d had with Bomi. 

“Damn that. Maybe you should start part timing at the chicken place instead, Channie. We could all really use some free chicken.”

Kyunghwan cackled, kicking a foot in Kilwoo’s direction. “If you’re that obsessed about free chicken, then why don’t you get the part time job?” 

“Because I’m busy! I’m trying to write us some kickass songs so we can go around doing gigs once school gets out!” Kilwoo pointed at his laptop animatedly, glaring at them like they were missing the most obvious point. 

“It doesn’t look like it’s going well, is all I’m saying,” Kyunghwan rummaged in his pockets, pulling out a few coins. “Anyone have 300 won? I’m a little short. I’ll share my coke with everyone if you let me borrow.” 

Chanyeol fumbled in all of his pockets, barely scrambling the coins out. Kyunghwan muttered a thanks and strolled out, barely catching Kilwoo feigning a fist punch in the big guy’s direction. The two fist-fought in midair for a few useless seconds while Chanyeol mulled over the whole part time job ordeal. 

“What about you, Hongki? Any plans?” Chanyeol had a feeling he already knew his friend’s answer. The guy peeked out from the curtain of his hair to give a quick reply. 

“Playing music with you guys, working the cash register at the shop, playing more music with you guys… basically counting down the days until I can finally leave this damn shop.” 

Without anything as a second glance, Hongki returned to his tuning, and Chanyeol was left to look about the instrument shop that had been their practice space for the past three years. Somehow, the dust covered speakers and various instrument parts around him seemed older, duller, and boring than ever. 

It was a trick that Kilwoo had taught him, back when Chanyeol had first met the guy in middle school. Kilwoo had been so cool then, with that old guitar of his, sheet music rumpled in that backpack, guitar pick in his back pocket. Chanyeol had wanted to be just like him. 

In the end, after all those years, Kilwoo’s old trick was one of the only few things that had managed to rub off on Chanyeol. Kilwoo was a fun and easy-going guy, but he tended to be cold and bossy, with a hot temper on the underside. But he’d become Chanyeol’s best friend, with two other guys to round them off as a solid group, which was what mattered most, in the end. 

Simply, the trick was to pick up a guitar and start strumming the first song that came to your fingers when your mind got too crowded with thoughts. The song and the mechanical strumming of strings helped set the mind straight, to really find the true direction it had wanted to go from the beginning. 

So it was what Chanyeol did. He reached for his guitar, ran through the tuning motions quickly, and let his fingers rest on the board, taking a deep breath. Staring straight ahead, forcing his fingers to find the right places, Chanyeol pressed and twanged. 

Hongki’s head snapped back, eyeing Chanyeol with a smirk. Chanyeol couldn’t help return a faint smile back. His hands ran free; soft, light pluckings of Jason Mraz’s ‘Live High’. The moment just clicked for him, magically. His fingers had known the perfect song all along, and his mind had known the right answer, all along. 

The first bar of humming, a little hoarsely, did it. Chanyeol shot up from his chair, stuffing his guitar back in its case. Kyunhwan returned and offered him a sip of his Coke. 

“No thanks, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you guys later.” 

It was Tuesday, so Bomi wasn’t outside in her Olaf suit. Chanyeol’s hands had started sweating despite the dry winter temperatures, and he wondered if it had been a bad idea to run straight to the karaoke shop from the instrument store. He was still in his school uniform, tie a little loose, his guitar on one shoulder, his backpack on the other. 

He all but barged in there, the entrance bell ringing loud. A man greeted him from the front desk, polite and cheerful. On top of his sweaty hands, Chanyeol felt some sort of churning in his chest, red shooting up his neck veins. He stuttered the first word, then the second, then the third, and knew he’d screwed up already. 

“Hi… I’m… uhh… are… you possibly looking for part time workers for hire..?” 

The man’s expression passed eerily from cheerful to reserved. He looked around him, as if taking care as to not be heard by others. The shop was empty, not many daytime customers on hand. 

“No, we aren’t, unfortunately. You may have some luck with the convenience store across the street. Sorry about that… and good luck.” 

And that was it. Chanyeol’s first ever attempt at earning a job. The results left him depressingly uncertain about himself, and largely doubtful of the quick turndown.

He tried the convenience store across the street, which also sent him away in mere seconds. He tried a few more places around the neighborhood, until he’d broken into a sweat lugging his guitar around. He finally just dragged his feet home and crashed on his bed, his outburst attempt of the day horribly failed, nothing body odor stinking up his sheets as a reward. 

A lot raced in his mind, maybe even too much for Kilwoo’s guitar trick to fix. Chanyeol didn’t have the energy left in him to get his guitar and put his fingers to work. Lying there, he let his thoughts bloom and flicker, patches of things that had never occurred to him in his nineteen years of life until just a few days ago: the value of time, and what you do with the time that you have at hand, to make life worthwhile. The oversight of goals and plans, and the difficult steps to get there, to fulfill them. The realities of finding jobs out there, outside of school and student life. Chanyeol wondered if such thoughts ever bothered his friends – Kilwoo, Hongki, and Kyunghwan. The bandmates always seemed without a care in the world, anything moot to them except music, making music, enjoying music. But Chanyeol had always known that one day, he would have to accept the fact that music wasn’t going to earn him bread. And someone like Bomi, was already way ahead of him and his friends, in facing some of those facts about life. 

Someone like Bomi, knew a lot of the right answers that Chanyeol had never even asked questions to before. 

Maybe he should have brought some sort of offering… bread, milk, snacks, anything to pay a… fee? A plea? None of those words fit exactly. Besides, it was too late to think about such. He was already within a few steps of them. 

“Hey guys.”

Gayoung’s eyes grew very large when he met them with his hopefully bright ones. She sort of choked on her food a little, all the while tugging Bomi’s sleeve insistently. Bomi took a good while to look up from what seemed to be knitting work in her hands, her lunch tray skewed off to the side. 

Before being invited, Chanyeol took the liberty and sat down at the table. Bomi put down her long web of yarn, engaging him questioningly. 

“Hey… Chanyeol… what bring you here..?” Gayoung asked, her gaze a medley of suspicion, discomfort, menace, and annoyance. 

“I had to talk to Bomi about… something,” He answered matter of factly, scooping rice into his mouth. Too late after he’d half chewed his food did it occur to him, that maybe he should have been more mannerly; carrying on what he came to do first before eating his lunch. 

Gayoung turned to Bomi expectantly, tugging on her sleeve once again. Before Chanyeol’s eyes, the two girls exchanged a few heated glances, heads pointing toward him one too many times in between. He took the opportunity to swallow the rice in his mouth, then exercised much self-control in refraining from eating any more. 

The quiet argument in front of him blared above the lunch room chitter chatters, Chanyeol fidgeting blatantly to be noticed. Finally, Bomi just shrugged Gayoung off with a shake of her shoulders, directing her attention to Chanyeol. 

“Chanyeol, what do you need?” 

It was mostly a demand than a question. Chanyeol regretted for certain now, that he hadn’t brought any offerings to lighten the mood. He cleared his throat in a sad attempt that just heightened the awkwardness. 

“About the thing that… you told me about… with spring break… that whole… well… It’s definitely not that I’m trying to… like, copy your or anything. It’s really not. But… I do really like the idea and all… so I was thinking… that… I’d like to do it too,” There was a lot more stuttering involved than he’d practiced, but Chanyeol was relieved that he’d finally gotten the conversation rolling. He smiled, a little apologetic, but a little excited at the same time, wondering how Bomi would respond. 

“What is he talking about?” Gayoung blurted, eyebrows twisted, eyes still large and expressing clear discomfort. 

“Yeah, what are you talking about?” Bomi added, her small eyes narrowing considerably. 

“Spring break? Did you tell him about your crazy backpacking trip idea?” Gayoung turned to Bomi with her twisted eyebrows. 

“Yeah… he asked, so…” The way Bomi looked at him made Chanyeol feel somewhere between the lines of an alien, or someone whose hair was on fire. 

“I wanna go on a trip around the country too. Plan things out and make my own funds for it. Like you’re doing. But I need a little help,” Chanyeol explained again. No stuttering this time.  

Gayoung joined Bomi in that strange, mistrusting look. Chanyeol’s face was beginning to itch from the attention. 

“So… what is it that you want from me?” Bomi asked.

Chanyeol had been fighting off a nagging in his side ever since that lightbulb moment at the instrument shop, and it returned to him fully, seeing Bomi’s uncertain expression. He had never intended to steal her idea in any way, but whether it had been intentional or not, it was in essence exactly what he was doing. 

He prayed for the stuttering to leave him a while longer, choosing his words carefully.

“First, for your permission in borrowing your idea… and then, a good bit more help in… the hard part. The making money part.” 

Bomi cast her eyes down at the yarn and plastic needles below her, then raised firm, hard set eyes toward him. 

“Why should I help you?” 

Good question. There was no reason she had to even want to help him, let alone feel the need to. 

“Please..?” 

He suppressed a bubble of laughter as he pictured how ridiculous he probably looked, but somehow, his gut told him it was the best option. 

“Pleaseeeeeee~?” He clasped his hands in front of him tightly and wound his forearms about his face in some sort of spell casting motion, before bringing the clasped knuckles to the bridge of his nose. He slowly, with as much bubbly energy as he could muster, peeked out from behind his hands, blinking his eyes a billion times, raising his tone higher than he’d probably sounded in elementary school. 

It was a good thing he’d practiced his aegyo on his mom and older sister for nineteen years. A few more ‘please’s got both Gayoung and Bomi snickering positively. 

A chicken, Olaf, a fairy, a Minion, a trot singer, and a strawberry were the bulk of the various roles in large, full body suits Bomi had taken on as a part-time promotional worker around town. On top of those things, she also worked part time as a cashier at a noodle restaurant, and sold hand-knitted winter accessories to her friends and acquaintances for more cash. 

This time Chanyeol had decided to be much more mannerly, suggesting that they meet at a café and offering to buy drinks and snacks for the both of them. 

Bomi brought along a wad of newspapers and her laptop, and ordered the least expensive options on the menu.  She’d changed out of her school uniform into a comfortable sweater and jeans, and looked different from the times Chanyeol had caught her in a giant suit. She was pretty. In a down to earth, casual sort of way. 

She got him started right away looking through the newspapers for any part time ads. Across from him, she got to work on her laptop, looking through local sites and search engines. 

Marking up relevant places through the stack, sipping his coffee and glancing at Bomi hard at work from time to time, Chanyeol couldn’t contain some of the adrenaline inside him. It felt so real, to be determined for something that hadn’t been required of him. It felt a lot like learning a new song on the guitar, or trying out a song as a band with the guys. If this was what life after graduating as a student was like, Chanyeol didn’t think he’d mind it too much. 

But he wondered how many places he marked would actually want him, too. The discomforts of the turndowns from the day before flooded his mind, and Chanyeol tried to shrug off the negativity from his shoulders, assuring himself that with Bomi’s help, things could be different. 

After about an hour of mad searching, Bomi put him to a stop. She sent him her own searches via email, and munched down the last of her cookie. 

“That should be enough leads for you to get busy with for today. Now you need to go home, or where ever you want to be, and call each one of those numbers. Just try to sound enthusiastic on the phone, and don’t lower your voice too much. It could be kind of hard with your voice, but…” 

“What’s wrong with my voice?” 

Bomi frowned at him, as if he’d just said the most ridiculous thing ever. 

“Your voice can be kind of scary, you know, especially without a face to match it. You’ve never felt that way?” 

The only other person who’d ever mentioned Chanyeol’s voice in his nineteen years of life was Kilwoo. But when he’d first met Kilwoo, his voice had been admittedly a little higher. They’d been younger. Kilwoo had still really liked Chanyeol’s voice, saying musicians with unique voices had a leg up in the industry. But he highly doubted that Kilwoo referring to Chanyeol’s voice as unique was similar to Bomi’s reference now. 

“I’ve never thought about it, really… but, I’ll make sure to be careful. What else?” 

She looked him up and down in that odd, sizing up glare thing that she’d done to him before. He wondered if she did that when she applied for jobs, if it worked, and that really was why she was such an expert at finding part time work, in the end. 

“It’s… hard work, to be honest. It really is. Don’t be discouraged if most of the people you call turn you down. It happens to everyone. It happened to me, of course, in the beginning. You just have to keep trying until you get one eventually, but it could take more than a day. Please don’t tell me you’re the type to give up on stuff pretty fast.” 

Chanyeol held up his hands defensively. 

“I’m not. I swear.” 

“Good.” 

She clicked her laptop closed and made her way to leave. 

“Going already?” 

Sliding her coat on, she arranged the piled newspapers more neatly and pushed them against Chanyeol. 

“You’d better get started on these asap! Today’s Olaf day, so I need to go get in costume. Text me tonight and let me know how things go with the calls.” 

Chanyeol scurried up to join her on the way out, crumbling the newspapers under his arm, offering to dispose of her trash for her. 

“Bomi, really, thanks again for helping. I know you could’ve just left me hanging… and I’m glad you didn’t.” 

“Yeah. You owe me. And the coffee today doesn’t count,” She wriggled her eyebrows at him, crossing her arms sternly. 

“Whatever it takes to pay you back, it will happen. Once I start actually working some part time jobs, that is.” 

They exited the coffee shop and set down the street side by side, Bomi leading the way with quick strides. He was glad the karaoke shop was the same direction as home.

“Oh, eww.”

“What?” 

“Your hands.”

Chanyeol shot his free hand up to his eyes to make sure nothing terrible had happened to them.

“What about them?”

“They’re hideous.”

Chanyeol’s eyebrows crumbled like paper as he stared at his knuckles, turning his hand over to shoot lasers into his own age lines. He was one hundred percent sure they’d been fine just back at the café. 

“Huh?”

“They’re as big as the hands on one of my mascot suits! You could honestly strangle a giraffe with one hand. Heck, you could strangle me to death in like, five seconds.”

Chanyeol was fairly sure his dismayed expression melted the skin off of his face from its sheer ugliness. But it quickly turned into a laugh, and he put his hand back down, amazed at her forwardness. She had nerve, calling him out on his voice, and now, his hands. 

“Exactly, so don’t get on my bad side.” 

She scoffed, feigning a glare. “Weren’t we just talking about you owing me a second ago?”

“Hey, you started it.”

The karaoke shop came into view, about a block down. Someone from inside was already setting up the large speakers for the weekly promotion. 

“Whatever. Hurry home and get started on those calls.” 

“Sir yes sir. Have fun being Olaf!” 

“You wish you were Olaf!” 

Bomi gave him a quick wave and darted off, leaving Chanyeol with his crumpled mass of newspapers. He smirked to himself all the way home, making a mental note to get a picture with Olaf next week, for certain.