A pencil tapped on Kwangyeon’s history textbook, the words below a complete blur to him at the moment. He couldn’t focus on class at all because of how much he anticipated his lunch break, when he could finally chat with the class president longer about playing with him. After he had pulled another one of his stunts earlier by pulling out his bass before class and surprising everyone, the atmosphere became entirely too awkward between the three. Hanbyul had eventually broke the silence by gripping onto Kwangyeon’s arm and standing to face him, concerned about his sanity. “Aren’t you going a little too far with this joke?”

                Kwangyeon only held the bass to his waist and kept his focus on the one still sitting in front of him. “I’m serious; I want to play… that is if Youngjun lets me.”

                “You should listen to your friend.” The silent boy finally spoke up, his voice rather harmonious with his morose appearance. Turning back to his book before him, he tried to forget Kwangyeon’s strange offer as a passive interest. “I’m not interested.” With how his rejection played out, Kwangyeon had to wonder if this was because of his recent poor experience with his band members. It was probably too soon for the boy to bounce back and trust someone he only knew the name and backside of.

                The elder of the three looked between the pink boy beginning to lower his bass, and the darker boy leaning away from them both. With a sigh, Hanbyul wrapped his arm around his friend’s shoulders and dragged him away, the boy still at a loss. He had at least expected some sort of reaction from Youngjun, and instead got the blank slate the guy gave everyone else daily; he just wanted to see that peaceful, brighter side to Youngjun he caught by accident only days ago, and he had been determined to bring it out somehow.

                “Look,” Hanbyul interjected as he guided Kwangyeon away toward the corner of the room, grabbing the bass’s case and holding it out to the younger. “I know you’re feeling all nostalgic or whatever, but isn’t this just being a little weird?” Kwangyeon could only snort internally, being called weird from someone even stranger than him. Then again, maybe that meant Kwangyeon really was certifiably crazy now. “You barely know him, now he probably thinks you’re creepy…er.” Kwangyeon began zipping away his bass, not even attempting to interrupt Hanbyul, since he did acknowledge he was only trying to help. “If you wanna start playing again then alright, but watch out for some crazy rumors that’ll probably pop up if you keep these eccentrics up.” Ironic, Kwangyeon thought, since the source of these eccentrics was the punishment that the man scolding him had originally concocted. Shrugging, the bell rang and with a last casual, friendly handshake, he patted Kwangyeon’s back and left for his own class.

                Kwangyeon on the other hand silently put his instrument in the corner of the room, above the smaller class lockers. He did think over his friend’s words while he took his seat, glancing over Youngjun who now looked more uncomfortable than he usually was upon better examination. Perhaps the boy was just too straightforward in his approach; after all, he didn’t know what Youngjun was like at all aside from the recently revealed fact that he liked to play guitar, and was great at it. That’s why he decided during his first several classes of the day that he would have to better introduce himself to the boy before he could hope for an opportunity to play with him. He’d have to build some trust within Youngjun before he could hope to ask the boy to open a door for him he kept closed to most.

                Before he knew it, the teacher was gathering his materials and leaving their class, the other students already beginning to rush out of their seats to their friends. It took a moment for Kwangyeon to come to grips with reality, but as soon as he caught up he spun around to face the class president who had little time to escape. Leaning on the back of his chair with his arms crossed, he didn’t say a word, but instead radiated his winning smile at the other until he won his attention. Inside though, he was a nervous mess.

                “Youngjun: Studious class president and part-time guitarist.” Kwangyeon tried his best to mask some of the wavering in his voice when confronted with the boy’s unreadable expression. “I was surprised when I found out,” He refused to mention the part about witnessing Youngjun being kicked out of his band and got to the point. “But discovering that, I started to play the bass again.”

                Youngjun’s eyes widened slightly, just enough for Kwangyeon to take notice and gain some more confidence between them both. “Really, I like to play… I forgot how much I love the sound of it.” In his comfort, he sat up straight and closed his eyes, bringing his hands up to mimic where they’d be when playing on the instrument. Youngjun watched as his fingers curled in midair, the veins in his hand straining as if there was something solid actually there. He directed his attention back to Kwangyeon as his low voice softened more, “There’s just something about the feel of it too, you know?” He opened one eye to meet with his peer’s gaze, grinning from ear to ear at how much he seemed to let down his guard now.

                The president looked away, closing the notebook on his desk before pressing closer against his desk. “How long have you played?” His interest seemed piqued, but Kwangyeon felt much more comfortable and casual now rather than evaluative of his words.

                “A few years. I played a lot more in middle school.” He laughed and folded his hands back over the chair, leaning closer himself. “It was a little hard learning since I was shorter then.” Kwangyeon could feel a softness spark in Youngjun’s eyes, and the president even began to purse his lips like he was holding in a smile. “How long have you played guitar?” He kept the conversation going easily, showing the quiet president his sincere interest.

                Youngjun’s eyes rolled up to recall an answer, cocking his head slightly to the side while thinking. “About… six years now?”

                To this, Kwangyeon’s mouth fell open as he gripped onto the back of the chair, “Six years?! That’s amazing!” His exclamation turned a few heads their direction, but they quickly ignored him for their own conversations. “You’re practically a pro now, you should be in a band—“ Kwangyeon couldn’t catch the words soon enough, feeling a little guilty for mentioning a band to him so carelessly.

                The boy in front of him simply glanced at his desktop, “Yeah, I like to play with others…” They were both silent for a moment, until Youngjun lifted his eyes again. “Earlier…” His voice was a melodious device itself, one that Kwangyeon couldn’t yet seem to decipher. “You wanted me to play with you… Are you free after school?”

                Kwangyeon’s eyes broadened and his smile returned while he practically bounced in his seat. “Of course! I-I’ll meet you outside… that’s okay, right?” Youngjun nodded his head and opened his book again, hinting that the conversation was over. Right before he turned around himself, Kwangyeon was sure he could see some excitement from the boy with the small, hidden smile on his face.

•••••

                “Please take over for me today!” The pink-haired student bowed before Hyoseok with his hands clapped together above his reverent head. He had completely forgotten about his cleaning duties for the day again. “I know it’s Friday, so this is probably too much to ask, but I—“

                “Alright.” Hyoseok stared up at the guilty boy from his own seat, a little confused as to why he was acting like it was such a big deal. Kwangyeon lifted his head and furrowed his brow, wondering just how he could agree to this favor so easily. Before he could ask any questions, Hyoseok stood up, packing his books into his bag, giving the boy only some of his attention. “Not like I have anything planned anyway, I had to do some work for sleeping earlier anyway.” He shrugged slightly while slinging his bag over his shoulder, situating the strap over his uniform while smirking back at Kwangyeon. “And, it means you owe me later.”

                Kwangyeon nodded quickly and smiled himself, gripping onto the straps of his satchel and bass where they crossed. “No problem, just let me know what you want later… In fact, let me get your number now—“

                Hyoseok waved his hand away and began heading down the aisle between the emptied desks. “I already got it from some friends, I’ll text you later.” With a brief wave, he headed out first with the usual bright face and energy that seemed to be too much for his smaller body.

                Eagerly, Kwangyeon rushed out of the school to meet with Youngjun outside, his bass bobbing behind him. The boy was waiting by the gate for Kwangyeon, his hands stuck in his pockets while he slouched against the brick wall. It was strange to see the boy patiently waiting around for someone, various other students passing him by, either in their own groups or busy on their phones. No one waved to him or said anything as they passed him by, but that wasn’t really surprising since he never seemed to hang out with anyone usually. Kwangyeon on the other hand bolted toward the boy, glowing with enthusiasm as he greeted him, “Youngjun! Ready?” Some girls from their class walked by, eyeing them both in some confusion as they continued on their way. Instead of an answer, Youngjun merely stood straight and took off on his own, Kwangyeon following by his side wordlessly. Occasionally he watched as Youngjun strode next to him, only now realizing how tiny the guy was compared to him. He was probably even smaller than Hyoseok, he thought, but it was kind of fitting. There was something behind that daunting exterior everyone, including Kwangyeon, only recognized, that was admirable and more fragile.

                After a few blocks of walking, Youngjun led the way through his house gate. The neighborhood was pretty quiet, and the house seemed empty, but Youngjun was indifferent and dug a key out from his pocket, unlocking and holding the door open for Kwangyeon to enter first. The pink-haired kid looked around the place, how clean and sparse the space was compared to his own home. He assumed Youngjun lived alone with his parents, but as he took off his shoes he saw another, smaller pair of shoes. The color matched his hair, so he thought it fitting to put his own shoes next to the bright pink ones half their size. Stepping onto the floor, Youngjun shut the door behind them both and took off his shoes while the boy looked around down the hall. He saw the empty kitchen, which was even neater than the hall, and some sort of living area across from it. Brushing past him, Youngjun began leading the boy to his room upstairs, turning back as if he remembered something, “You want something to drink?”

                Flustered, Kwangyeon waved his hand and shook his head, smiling politely. “No thanks, I’m fine.” He supposed he should have expected the class president to be so courteous. With only the creaks of the stairs sounding through the house, Kwangyeon became more anxious with each step they climbed. This was a rare opportunity, he thought, to be able to get a glimpse into the bedroom of the coldest kid in class. Not only that, but he would get to play some rock with him as well. This was definitely a first step for the better of mankind he’d say.

                They passed by a few rooms until they reached the end of the hall, where Youngjun opened the , white door. Kwangyeon looked around a bit more, spotting a photo hanging on the wall next to them before he entered the boy’s bedroom behind him. He recognized his classmate in the picture, and who he assumed were his parents, but there were two other kids there as well that he concluded were siblings of his. The little girl pictured with them would certainly explain the pink shoes at the front. Shortly entering the room, Youngjun closed the door behind them and dropped his bag onto the swivel chair at his desk. Taking off his coat, the host opened his closet across the room and hung it up while Kwangyeon put his satchel near the bed and sat down on the cushiony spot, holding the bass in its case in his lap. He watched as Youngjun dug through the closet that seemed to be cluttered with various papers and old books and notebooks. ping his own instrument, he examined the room further, finding stacks of CDs and albums on a shelf. On the boy’s dresser were various little trinkets that looked like they needed a good dusting soon, surrounded by even more CDs of all kinds of music. He wondered if the boy even knew exactly how many albums he had, returning his curious gaze to the boy’s back bent over in the closet. Soon, he stepped back, pulling out an older, worn out acoustic guitar from the crawl space. Joining Kwangyeon on the bed, he leaned against the headboard and crossed his legs, already beginning to tune the piece by ear.

                The guest was surprised, not only by how intent he seemed about playing the guitar, but at how he had a totally different guitar than the one he had seen and imagined he’d be playing right now. Strapping his bass over his shoulder, he watched the boy quietly tune the withered instrument. “Don’t you have another guitar…?” He didn’t want to seem like a stalker for knowing about the other one, but Youngjun didn’t even take notice. Instead he lifted his focus from tuning the instrument to the boy sitting across from him. He put the guitar on the bed and crawled off, getting on his knees beside the bed and bending over so his head touched the carpeted floor. He reached under and slid out an electric guitar, holding it up a moment for the boy to take in. It wasn’t the red one, but a guitar as white as his bass. The pink-haired boy raised his brow while Youngjun pushed the guitar back under, “How many guitars do you have anyway?”

                “Four.” Youngjun’s voice was stronger than usual, but maybe that was just because Kwangyeon was a little intimidated by his obsession with guitars. Sitting back on the bed, he finished tuning the old purple acoustic and brushed his thumb over a few strings so delicately. “I would play one of the others, but my sister naps around this time.” He turned his attention to the instrument in the other boy’s lap, then the boy himself. “Plugging your bass into an amp would be too loud, is that okay?”

                The boy was surprised again; if this was how the class president was normally, then it was leagues different from how he seemed during school. Rolling up his sleeves, the president refocused on the guitar in his hands, closing his eyes as he began strumming a tune Kwangyeon didn’t recognize, but found soothing. After a minute or two of playing alone, he opened his eyes and nodded in his peer’s direction, as if inviting him to join in at any time. Biting his lower lip, the other quickly understood his motion and fixed the position of the instrument in his hands, readjusting the pick between his fingers, and finally cutting in. He tried to fit a steady rhythm to match Youngjun’s occasional riffing and flexible tunes. His fingers glided all over the neck of the fragile guitar, his neck craned over the piece so he could fully watch what he was doing. But the most fascinating thing to Kwangyeon as they both began playing harmoniously with ease, was the open, gentle smile he was willingly showing to the boy he barely knew. In turn, Kwangyeon became more comfortable himself and they soon found themselves playing bits of renowned songs, bouncing off each other, Kwangyeon laughing at a few of his own mistakes from how rusty he still was.

                It had been a few hours that they were immersed in the music before the one with pink hair became exhausted. Playing so much after such a long time was tiring, and now he just preferred to listen to the other continuing his performance. While Kwangyeon checked his phone, sending Hanbyul a few texts before Youngjun paused, checking the time himself and getting up. Carrying the acoustic across the room and putting it back into his closet, he caught Kwangyeon’s eye and curiosity. Maybe it was time he headed home, and that’s what he thought the host was about to tell him, until he ducked under the bed again. Reaching back, he pulled out another guitar, the cherry red one that he had first seen him play back at school, and sit on the edge of the bed. There was an amp under the bed already hooked up, probably because Youngjun often used it, and the boy began plugging his guitar in, turning it on and setting the volume higher. Before he started playing, he faced the boy smiling in anticipation.

                “This is my favorite guitar… it’s so pretty.” He the glossy, red surface once and gleamed, wrapping his fingers around the neck and strapping it over his shoulder. “The sound is better too.” He stood back up and grabbed his pick, fixing his posture slightly before he lifted his arm. Moving it swiftly over the strings, the sound of a faster, harder tune blasted through the room. Youngjun droned on, the sound becoming more intricate and difficult the longer it carried on, all the more mesmerizing to the classmate watching. The president’s smile had faded and his head lolled back slowly, eventually curving over his shoulder to a small degree while his dense eyes stared at Kwangyeon, who could only respond with a stupefied expression while he was entranced by the boy’s skill.

                Before he knew it, the song ended with an elongated whammy. The bass was still wrapped around Kwangyeon’s body when he tried to applaud the other, knocking his hand on the head of the instrument when he lifted his hands to clap. He shortly stood up himself, still in awe as he removed his bass and left it on the bed. “That was amazing, you’re amazing!”

                To Kwangyeon’s surprise, Youngjun became incredibly bashful, a sincere smile creeping back onto his face. “I’m glad you think so…” Unplugging the instrument, he moved it off his shoulder, leaning it on the floor against the bed. Kwangyeon groaned and pulled at the nape of his own neck with both hands, dwelling on his own, lacking skill.

                “I need to practice so much more… your level’s insane.”

                “I think you’re great.” His voice was much lighter as he tried to compliment Kwangyeon as well. “You have a good ear for the melody to harmonize with it, and when you play your whole body becomes involved.” This was the most the boy heard his classmate speak, and it was nice. Youngjun turned off the amp and sat back on the bed, grinning up at the other, “You’re just a little stiff.” Digging his hands into the bed, he leaned back and rested one leg on his other knee while Kwangyeon was still praising him.

                “You know so much and are so great, I can’t believe those guys kicked you out.” The words slipped out of his mouth and Kwangyeon froze, Youngjun looking back at him now with some wariness.

                “You saw that?... You were there?”

                Kwangyeon became tense and felt the atmosphere becoming uncomfortable for them both again. “Y-Yeah… Just a bit.”

                Youngjun bit his cheek, looking away to the guitar next to him before shrugging. “Well I didn’t need them anyway, they didn’t care about making music, they just wanted to hang out all the time.” Kwangyeon expected as much, but he didn’t think Youngjun would so readily accept that he had witnessed such an embarrassing moment of his. The president turned his head in Kwangyeon’s direction again, addressing him again, “You on the other hand, you like to make music, I can tell.” With a half-smile erupting on his face, he stood up again and grabbed the boy’s bass, handing it to him. “I wouldn’t mind playing with you more.” He became quiet again while Kwangyeon gathered his things, zipping away the instrument and slinging it over his back. It was about time he headed home, and Youngjun knew too, as much as he still wanted to practice. “I have to study… so I’ll see you later?”

                Kwangyeon’s face brightened while he gave the boy another delicate eye smile, nodding his head in agreement. “Sounds good to me.”

                The president showed him out, the rest of the house now brightened with lights that reflected off the pale walls and glossy floors in the tiny halls downstairs. There was much more commotion throughout the house now, since the family was most likely back by now, but Kwangyeon didn’t greet anyone. Instead, he pushed his feet into his sneakers and opened the door to leave, waving one last time to Youngjun with a friendly demeanor he didn’t have to force anymore.

                Shutting the door behind him, Kwangyeon turned to meet with a strange man in his path. The man was slightly taller than him, but much older and slightly more intimidating (which would be pretty simple for anyone as long as he had his pink hair). He was holding a briefcase at his side and dressed in a suit, his appearance pretty clean-cut as he stood before the otherwise messy Kwangyeon. The man caught sight of the guitar case peeking from behind his head and scowled, returning his heavy stare to the boy’s confused eyes.

                “You play with Youngjun?” His voice was low but sturdy, unlike Kwangyeon’s who was hesitant to answer.

                “Y-Yeah… today was my first time playing with him,” He gulped and grabbed the straps of his bags near his shoulder. “He’s really gre—“

                “Well don’t do any of this rock stuff with him anymore, okay?” He insisted with such a gruff disposition that Kwangyeon had to wonder what was so wrong with him playing rock with Youngjun. He probably would’ve inquired why the man was so disgruntled if the guy hadn’t brushed past him and headed inside the house. Now at least it was safe to assume what he suspected; he just met Youngjun’s father.

                Without a second thought, he headed for the house gate and started walking down the street, thinking over those words the man left him with. However, all he could really hear was the sound of Youngjun’s guitar echoing in his head, the image of the boy so attached to the instrument stuck on his mind.

                “Kwangyeon,” a familiar voice called out to him, and the boy paused, pivoting on his foot to look back and find Youngjun chasing after him. When he caught up, his breath broken into small, soundless pants, he was handed his own phone. “You forgot this.”

                Kwangyeon took it and smiled, tucking it into his pocket, “Thanks, I didn’t even notice.”

                He was ready to turn and leave again when Youngjun spoke up once more, “Also.” Kwangyeon paused and stuck his hands in his pockets, blinking back at the boy in curiosity. His classmate looked away for a moment, then right into his eyes, “Thanks for listening earlier.” The boy slipped out a small smile with his gratitude and started to walk away, back to his house.

                Kwangyeon didn’t stop him, instead smiling to himself and turning on his own way home. He readjusted the bass sliding all over his back and kept it firmly in place the whole way.

•••••

                In his own bed finally, the boy stretched his legs across the mattress and digging the back of his head into the sheets, ruffling his pink hair over the white comforter. He moaned in exhaustion and rubbed his wrist in pain. Youngjun was right; he really was being too stiff when he played. Playing for so long, it’d take at least a day for this to heal up, and the thought alone annoyed him. He’d already changed and put his stuff away, having stayed up later than usual to finish some work, rather lazily, for class. Hanbyul had been bothering him the whole time online, and now with his phone buzzing on the end table near his bed, he was going to bother him all night through texts.

                Grabbing his phone from the stand, he looked at the strange number that came up instead of Hanbyul’s ID. Kwangyeon sat up and rubbed his eyes, miserably tired from the day. He was never happier that it was the weekend tomorrow. Reading the text from the unknown source, it soon became clear that it was Hyoseok who had planned to bother him so late in the evening. The message read “All~~~~~done!! <3 Finished in an hourㅎㅎㅎ” and had a photo of Hyoseok holding a dirty rag like he was some model. Kwangyeon chuckled to himself at the message and tried to promptly respond. The least he could do to make it up to the kid for now was to respond in a timely manner.

                Kwangyeon typed up a simple message in response, “wow!! you were so dirty! ㅋㅋㅋㅋ glad you’re clean, but did you get rid of the stink? ㅋㅋ” and laughed to himself in a little pride. While he waited for a response he knew was coming, especially after such a mocking text, he added the number into his contacts as Hyoseok under his “Friends” list, scrolling through the group briefly until he caught sight of a certain name. Suddenly, his phone now had his class president’s number and Kwangyeon wondered when exactly he asked the boy, until it became clear; Youngjun added himself into Kwangyeon’s phone before he returned the phone, even going as far as to list himself as a friend.

                Another light-hearted grin spread across his cheeks and he clicked the number, ready to write something when he remembered what his father had told him. Then, he remembered how much fun he had playing with the man’s son, how much he enjoyed watching as the boy played so masterfully for him, and finally the gratitude he received for simply listening to someone who was constantly ignored and rejected. Against his better judgment, Kwangyeon began typing a message, letting out a breath he’d been holding and pressing send.

                He read over the message after it processed and grinned to himself: “Let’s practice at school on Monday together. ^^” Shortly after he received another message, though from Hyoseok, and fell back laughing after reading it.

                “Can you say that when you can’t even get that gum out of your hair? ㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎ”