Raised to believe that if you were five minutes early, you were late, Kyungsoo walked into Westerberg’s at five-fifty for the six o’clock check-in.

 

Instead of the silent, empty room he’d found that afternoon, the bar was bustling with activity. Jun’s crew was hard at work getting the bar ready to open in an hour. Staff members cleaned and straightened the tables and chairs around the bar and next to the front windows. Behind the u-shaped bar, others stocked the cupboards with glasses and napkins, poured ice in the freezer, and filled the fridge with garnishes.

 

Yixing was the only staff member not wearing a black t-shirt with Westerberg’s printed on the back. He carried a clipboard and appeared to be counting the bottles that lined the shelves of the central island. He turned as Kyungsoo approached the bar and set the clipboard down. “Welcome back. Ready for something to drink? It’s on the house.”

 

Kyungsoo considered his options. He could get wasted. Drinking helped him lose his inhibitions, and the idea of not spending the whole night lost in anxious thoughts and second-guessing every word and action was pretty attractive.

 

He’d only played one gig while drunk, and once was enough. “If you could put some tap water in a glass with a slice of lime, that’d be great.”

 

Yixing shrugged. “Ice?”

 

Kyungsoo shrugged back.

 

That show had gone fine, kind of. Baekhyun had giggled every time Kyungsoo stumbled over his lyrics and howled with laughter at the lengthy, obscure anecdotes Jongdae told between songs. Luckily, the audience was indulgent and didn’t boo them off the stage. After their set, Jun told them in no uncertain terms how stupid they were, how they’d put the bar in jeopardy by making it look like they were giving drinks to minors, and how he regretted ever booking them.

 

Then, he’d introduced them to Minseok who hustled them out of the bar before they could get into more trouble. Over fries and runny chocolate shakes, he offered to manage them if they promised to do what he told them, when, and the way he told them to do it. Buzzing with guilt, booze, grease, and sugar, they’d agreed immediately.

 

Yixing set a medium-sized tumbler in front of him. “Find me when you need a refill. I’ll take care of you tonight.”  

 

Kyungsoo took a sip. It was just water, ice, and lime. Kyungsoo smiled. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

 

Yixing’s smirk brought out a dimple in his cheek.

 

“Are you flirting with the talent?” Jun slid onto the stool next to Kyungsoo. “I’ll take one of those,” he said and pointed at Kyungsoo’s glass.

 

Yixing grabbed his clipboard. “No,” he said over his shoulder as he walked to the other end of the bar.

 

Kyungsoo fought back a laugh at Jun’s grimace.

 

Jun shook his head, and his frown faded. “I didn’t show you the green room when you were here before. Do you want to go up? It’s pretty nice if I do say so myself, and everyone else is up there already.”

 

Kyungsoo’s stomach rolled at the thought of seeing “everyone else.”

 

Feedback sliced through the room, and Jun swiveled around to look at the stage. “Or would you rather help with soundcheck?”

 

Relieved, Kyungsoo nodded. He grabbed his glass and followed Jun. As they climbed the short stairs up to the stage, two kids walked out from behind the curtain.

 

“Let me introduce you to Jongin and Sehun.” He pointed at each as he said their names. “They’ll be working the lights and sound tonight.”

 

They both had to be six-feet tall, and Kyungsoo might’ve been intimidated by their height and model-perfect looks if he hadn’t seen Jongin’s small smile before he ducked his head or the tiny quirk of Sehun’s lips when he raised his hand a few inches in what might have been a wave.  

 

“Kyungsoo agreed to help with soundcheck. You ready for him or do you need help setting anything up?”

 

Sehun shook his head. “Everything’s plugged in and ready to go.” He was halfway through the curtain when he said, “I’ll grab his guitar.”

 

“And I’ll head up to the booth,” Jongin said, still staring at the floor.

 

“Wait,” Kyungsoo said as Jongin started to turn. He smiled when Jongin looked up him for a moment. “Any requests?”

 

Jongin blushed and twisted the toe of one of his combat boots against the floor. “Just whatever you want,” he said softly. He spun around and jogged off stage.

 

Kyungsoo shook his head as he took off his suit jacket and slung it over an amp next to his water glass. It’d been a while since he was that shy around strangers.

 

Sehun returned and handed Kyungsoo his guitar. “Why’d you choose a Strat instead of a Telecaster?”

 

“Sehun.” Jun’s voice was mild, but there was a hint of warning.

 

“Are you really asking, or do you just want to make a point?” Kyungsoo asked.

 

Sehun’s eyebrows rose. “Really asking.”

 

“Find me later. I’ll buy you a drink and tell you.”

 

Sehun jerked his chin up in agreement before he put on his headset and moved to the side of the stage.

 

Jun rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You have no idea what you just signed up for.”

 

Kyungsoo chuckled. “That was me not very long ago, remember?” He adjusted the strap of his guitar and slung it over his head.

 

“As if I could forget,” Jun said before he too left the center of the stage.

 

His guitar was still relatively in tune, so it took just a moment to make it playable. Kyungsoo stepped up to the mic as he let his fingertips slide up and down the fingerboard. “Testing. One, two, three.”

 

Sehun gave him a thumbs up. Then, he hopped off the stage to listen from the floor.

 

Not knowing what to play, he strummed an open E. After a moment, his fingers found a G, C, then A, the opening chords of Springsteen’s “Reason to Believe.”

 

After rehearsal, he'd plugged his phone into his car stereo and set his music player to shuffle. As he drove away, he'd chosen when to turn and when to go straight as randomly as the app had chosen which song to play. He was barely aware when he left downtown and entered the suburb he’d grown up in. One song played after another without him noticing until a harmonica and guitar called to him like a train whistling in the distance. He pulled over next to the park where he’d played soccer and t-ball as a kid and stared at the empty playground as Bruce Springsteen sang about fools clinging to false hopes and dreams that would never come true.

 

After the song ended, he dialed his mom’s phone number. He’d never minded when Baekhyun called him a mama’s boy. He loved his parents. They were kind and hardworking and had supported him as a musician even as they made sure he finished his bachelor’s degree in biology. His mom told him what she was cooking for dinner and about the movie she was forcing his dad to watch later. His dad took over the phone to let him know he wanted to see The Handmaiden. He’d heard it was provocative, and he wanted to be provoked.

 

Just like that, Kyungsoo felt grounded again. If he had to leave the band and lost Baekhyun, Jongdae, and music and finally resolved his feelings for Chanyeol, the world wouldn’t end. There were people he loved who loved him.

 

He’d returned to Westerberg’s still feeling anxious, but telling himself his fear was just in his head, in his heart. He’d returned because he was committed to Baekhyun, Jongdae, and Minseok and owed Jun a great, opening-night show. If he could, he’d do right by the people he cared about. If feeling this pain and worry were the cost of his hopeless dream, he’d pay that price.

 

He’d learned to play the song while listening to Nebraska on his headphones, and it was weird not to have Springsteen's guitar and harmonica playing in the background with him.

 

Soundcheck was all about finding a balance, trying to make everyone happy. Could the musicians hear each other on stage? Was the volume too low in the back corner or so loud no one could hear themselves think on the right? Were the guitars drowning out the vocals, or could all anyone hear were the drums? As Kyungsoo sang the first verse, Sehun walked around the room muttering into his headset and Jongin adjusted the volume and balance from the booth on the second floor.

 

The second verse was about a woman clinging to the hope that her lover would return. Kyungsoo closed his eyes because with them open all he could see were similarities between her hard work and pointless devotion and his own.

 

At the end of the second chorus, he was ready to stop playing and plug into a different amp. Instead, a harmonica started playing the solo.

 

His eyes flew open. Baekhyun and Jongdae stood to the left of the stage, and with them, Chanyeol played the harmonica. His eyes were closed--he almost always closed his eyes while he played and opened them again when he sang--and his whole body moved as he played, not wildly, but with the slight bending at the waist and tapping of his foot.

 

Kyungsoo’s mind blanked, but his hands kept moving as he played under Chanyeol’s solo. In all the years they’d known each other, Kyungsoo had never played with Chanyeol. In high school, they’d been in choir together, but they sang in different sections. And of course, they were never in the band with Baekhyun and Jongdae at the same time.

 

But he’d dreamed of playing with him. That had been the reason he’d learned to play in the first place. Eventually, painfully, he’d labeled that dream as hopeless. Now he let the lingering disappointment and pain from the past wash away in a flood of happiness. His wish was coming true, and he was going to enjoy it.

 

Chanyeol finished playing, opened his eyes, and gazed at him, and Kyungsoo’s heartbeat matched the force and tempo of each strum of his pick across the strings of his guitar.

 

The only way this could get better was if Chanyeol were on stage next to him. Kyungsoo jerked his chin toward the second mic, hoping Chanyeol would take the invitation. And he did. Grinning, Chanyeol loped to the other side of the stage and climbed the stairs. It didn’t match the mood of the song, but Kyungsoo couldn’t help smiling when Chanyeol finally stood beside him.

 

On the album, the harmonica part didn’t pick up again until the end of the song, but he couldn’t turn away from Chanyeol. He wanted to see how he reacted to the song. Did he approve of Kyungsoo’s voice and the way he played the guitar? For a moment, he wished he’d picked something else to play, something that would show off his vocal range and how much he’d improved with the guitar. But even if the music wasn’t very complicated, the tune was catchy, and Chanyeol rocked back and forth and nodded to the beat.

 

His eyes were closed through most of the song, but as Kyungsoo sang about a man watching the river rush by on his wedding day, he opened them. Their eyes met, and Kyungsoo had no clue how to read the emotions he saw there. He did recognize the pain in Chanyeol’s eyes. He’d seen it often the year before Chanyeol moved to Austin. Was his relationship with his boyfriend still as toxic as it had been before they moved, or had they resolved their problems? And where was his boyfriend? It was unlike him to let Chanyeol go somewhere alone.

 

But the song was rushing by just like the river in the song. Kyungsoo sang the refrain for the last time, and Chanyeol raised his harmonica. They nodded together as the final note left Kyungsoo's mouth, and Chanyeol began to play again. The music was still simple, and the outro was much too short, but Kyungsoo felt as though electricity coursed through his body each time Chanyeol looked in his eyes, each time he nodded in response to something Kyungsoo did. It only lasted thirty-some seconds, but it felt weighty enough to hold onto. If this was all he had, it was enough.

 

The applause at the end of the song surprised him. Henry and the guys from Spygame stood near the stairs to the stage, and about a dozen women--probably the members of Polly in the Pocket--sat at the tables near the windows.

 

Panic echoed through him. He was used to pretending to bare his soul in front of an audience, but at this moment, he felt truly . How much of himself had he revealed to Chanyeol, to Baekhyun and Jongdae and everyone else?

 

He needed to…

 

Disappearing was impossible since he’d made a promise to Jun…

 

Denial wasn’t an option. He couldn’t trust himself to talk about it without giving the truth away…

 

Deflection...

 

He cleared his throat and unplugged his guitar from the amp. Frantically, he looked around the room to find Sehun and saw him standing next to Jun by the front door. “Sorry about that Sehun. I should have been paying more attention. What amp do you want me to plug into next?” He kept himself from turning to watch Chanyeol disappear backstage.

 

The rest of soundcheck proceeded in a businesslike way, and thankfully, his audience wandered away. While he played snippets of songs, his panic ebbed, but it was replaced by sadness. That dream had been fulfilled, but would that have been enough for fourteen-year-old Kyungsoo? It had been just one of a cluster of goals--impress Chanyeol, play together, get to know him, be his friend, be his boyfriend. Since he was sixteen, every iteration of Kyungsoo had understood that those dreams probably wouldn’t come true.

 

But now, one had, and the brilliance of that moment cast the other dreams further into the shadows. He couldn’t regret that it’d happened. He just wished that the joy and gratitude he felt didn’t have to be balanced with as much regret and disappointment.

 

He checked the time after he returned his guitar to its case. He had twenty-five minutes before the bar opened. He gazed at the exit sign over the door in the back corner. He just needed some fresh air and a moment alone.

 

He’d almost made it to the door when he heard the sound of metal hitting wood. He turned around to see a blushing Sehun and an empty mic stand laying on the floor.

 

Sehun picked it up while looking at Kyungsoo out of the corner of his eye. “Um, you said I could bother you…” His voice trailed off as though uncertain, but his expression was expectant.

 

A few minutes later, Kyungsoo was sandwiched between Sehun and Jongin at the bar. He handed Yixing his glass for a refill. “I’ll buy something for Sehun and Jongin as well.”

 

Yixing’s judgmental gaze focused on the techs. “They’re underage.”

 

“Do you want water, soda, or juice?” Kyungsoo asked Jongin.

 

Jongin’s eyes were wide, and his lower lip jutted. “Orange juice, please.”

 

Kyungsoo turned toward Sehun in time to see the tail end of a massive eye-roll. He chuckled. “And you?”

 

“Coke.”

 

It took less than ten minutes for a quiet discussion about how to know which guitar was the right one for you to deteriorate into a heated debate between Sehun and Jongin.

 

They reminded him of Baekhyun and Jongdae bickering endlessly over their choice of the greatest debut album--The Pistols’ Never Mind The Bullocks or The Clash’s self-titled album. Kyungsoo stayed out of it, just as he did with all of Baekhyun and Jongdae’s arguments. It wasn’t that he didn’t have opinions. He loved his Strat American Standard, and Patti Smith proved she was a poetic genius with Horses. He just didn’t see why others had to be wrong for him to be right.

 

He sat as far back on his barstool as he could without falling off and let Sehun and Jongin’s argument pass around him without touching him.

 

The debate widened to include Wendy and Irene from Polly In The Pocket. When Spygame’s lead singer and drummer joined in, Kyungsoo found a way out of the conversation. He suggested that they find a table where they could all sit but failed to leave the bar with them. He was about to make his escape out the front door when two more members of Polly asked him to sign their copies of the show poster.

 

He didn’t manage to get away from them before Minseok arrived. He inspected Kyungsoo like a mean girl checking out the new kid. “I like this suit. The gray with the red running through it looks good, very classic. Is it new? You need to button the jacket and straighten your tie. Doors open in ten, so let’s head to the green room now.”

 

Kyungsoo looked down to hide his frown as he buttoned his jacket over his waistcoat. He was never getting out of this bar was he? All he wanted was a minute to feel happy, disappointed, afraid, and elated without a damn audience.

 

Typically, he gave in to Minseok’s pre-show micromanagement, but he couldn’t today. He couldn’t go to the green room as long as Baekhyun, Jongdae, and Chanyeol were up there. And if he couldn’t get a moment alone, he needed to distract himself. Small talk with strangers sounded like the perfect antidote to his anxiety. “I’m going to stay down here if that’s okay," he said with his chin tilted up as Minseok straightened his tie for him. "It’ll be good to see everyone after being out of town for so long.”

 

Minseok frowned, and his eyes narrowed at him. “Okay, but--” He stopped and shook his head. “I don’t need to tell you to keep your head on straight.” He dusted Kyungsoo’s shoulder free of imaginary dust.

 

As he stepped away, he was replaced by one of Jun’s waitstaff with a flier he wanted to be signed. Until the doors opened, the rest of Kyungsoo’s time was filled with small talk and sips from his glass of water.

 

As the bouncer let in the first guests, Jun stood behind the bar with Yixing, tapping his fingers on the counter and staring at the door. The third time he got in the way of filling a drink order, Yixing snapped him in the with a wet rag. “Go card people or leave or something. Just get the hell out of here.”

 

Without looking away from the door, Jun said, “You’re the worst employee I’ve ever hired. Why haven’t I fired you?”

 

“Because I’m sleeping with you. Now go before I quit.”

 

Jun nodded as though he was considering the consequences of not complying. After tapping his fingers for another fifteen or twenty seconds, he snorted and left. He didn’t make it more than five feet before he was stopped for a handshake and a hug. He had no reason to worry. There was a steady stream of guests entering the bar, and everyone looked excited to be here.

 

Kyungsoo was just turning back to Yixing after watching Jun when a woman approached him. Her smile was a little too wide, and it didn’t reach her eyes. She glanced over her shoulder before holding out her hand. “Hey, Kyungsoo. I was in a few classes with you at the U. You probably don’t remember me. Anyway, I just wanted to say congratulations on your record deal. I read about it in the City Pages.”

 

Kyungsoo shook her hand and smiled. He knew it probably didn’t reach his eyes either. “Thanks so much. It means a lot to have everyone’s support.”

 

She turned and waved, and several more women crowded around them. “We’re all so excited to see you play tonight. What was it like meeting the guys from The 1975?”

 

“Did you meet any other celebrities,” another woman asked.

 

Maybe he should have been bored or offended, but he was actually grateful for their invasive, overly familiar questions. They were keeping him from obsessing over everything--his feelings for Chanyeol, his worries about the future of the band, and his guesses about what people had figured out from soundcheck.

 

The women were replaced by a couple of older guys he’d seen at almost every show he’d been to since he’d turned twenty-one. And they were followed by the drummer of a band Unit had opened for years ago, and so on. He focused on each interaction with fans, other musicians, the owner of the Cabooze who wanted to know when Unit would be back in circulation, and a reporter from The Daily who asked if he was available for an interview. Most just wanted to shake his hand or get his signature on their ticket stub or flier. A few offered to buy him drinks, but he had Yixing’s glass of water as an excuse for declining.

 

During a brief pause in the flow of supporters, the weight of all their expectations and assumptions hit him. They wanted--they needed--him and Unit to succeed. For whatever reason, they’d hitched some piece of their ego to his wagon and expected him to make them feel better about themselves. He was their brush with fame or their "I knew him when” story. A few wanted Unit’s success to translate into success for the local scene. Unit was their poster boy and gave them credibility by association.

 

Under other circumstances, all this attention might have gone to his head, but tonight it was suffocating. He had no idea what would happen after tonight. He didn’t know why his mind kept going there, but he hadn’t felt this much like a replaceable replacement since Unit’s first gig.

 

He adjusted the cuffs of his suit jacket out of habit.

 

As soon as they’d booked that show with Jun, Baekhyun had started picking on Kyungsoo during rehearsals. Nothing was good enough, not his singing, not his playing. Then, the criticism expanded to his clothes, hair, glasses, and posture. There was even something wrong with the way he smiled. Under the stress of trying to fix everything Baekhyun pointed out, Kyungsoo stopped eating and lost weight.

 

He finally broke down when his mom asked him why he wouldn’t eat her food anymore. Embarrassed, he didn’t want to admit to everything. She’d been so proud of him when he’d been invited to join the band. So he only told her that Baekhyun said he dressed like a grandpa. After laughing at him, she suggested that he show Baekhyun what a grandpa dressed like. If he didn't like, he'd be out a guitarist and lead singer.

 

When he knocked on Baekhyun’s door the afternoon of their gig wearing his biggest, dorkiest glasses and dressed in his grandpa’s mustard-colored, three-piece suit, he'd expected to be kicked out of the band. Instead, Baekhyun excitedly pulled up a picture of David Bowie in a similar suit. From that day on, Jongdae would sing the chorus from Bowie’s “Queen ” whenever Baekhyun harassed Kyungsoo about his clothes.

 

Kyungsoo had worn a three-piece suit and glasses for every gig since then. As he grew hot under the stage lights, he’d take off his jacket and tie and roll up his sleeves. It became something the band was known for, and Minseok had forbidden him from wearing anything else.

 

The suit he was wearing tonight was a gift from his parents to congratulate him on a successful tour. It was his first time being fitted for a suit instead of buying something off the rack. It was good that he got to wear it once.

 

His breath caught in his throat and his chest ached. He hooked his index finger into his collar and tugged at his tie.

 

At the brush of someone's hand on his arm, he looked up to see Henry. He concentrated on Henry's small smile and not the sympathy in his eyes.

 

“If you have time while you’re in town, why don’t you hang out with my friends and me. You could check out my new Hammond, and we could play a little.”

 

Kyungsoo took a deep breath, and it felt like his first in a long time. Hanging out with people he had no history with sounded like the best thing ever. He drew another breath. And they wanted to play with him.

 

Henry pointed toward the ceiling. “Why don’t we head up to the green room. It was empty the last time I was up there.”

 

Two bearded guys hovered to the right of Henry, and just beyond them a cluster of women stared in his direction. He really needed to not be a "rockstar" for a moment, and if the green room was empty... He grabbed his drink and finally left the bar.

 

Henry turned down the hallway on the far side of the stage. Behind a door labeled “Employees Only” were stairs to the second floor. As they climbed, Henry said, “So my friends play in a jazz band--three horn players and a bassist. We’ve been talking about getting together to play R&B. You know, Sam and Dave and Al Green, stuff from the sixties and seventies. With you to sing and play guitar, we just need someone on drums.”

 

There were two doors at the top of the stairs. Henry opened the door on the right and gestured for Kyungsoo to enter first.

 

Inside the room, a deep voice said, “I don’t know if things will ever be straightened out between us.”

 

Kyungsoo halted in the doorway. Baekhyun and Chanyeol sat together on a sofa. Their backs were to the door, and their bodies were angled toward each other.

 

Jongdae sat across from them in a recliner. “No matter what happens, I’m glad you’re moving back. We’ve missed you.”

 

Even from behind and at a distance, Kyungsoo could tell Chanyeol was smiling.

 

“Thanks. It’s going to be great playing with you guys again.”

 

At the sound of a thunk, Kyungsoo looked down at his feet. His glass lay on its side on the carpeted floor. A maroon spot grew on the red rug as water soaked into the wool.

 

The glass wasn’t broken. It should have broke, right? It should have shattered into a hundred pieces.

 

He picked it up and stuck the lime wedge and ice cubes back into it. Then, he let his gaze travel to Baekhyun, Jongdae, and Chanyeol. They’d turned and stared back at him. For three people who were loud and talkative, their silence felt solid, more solid than the glass in his hand.

 

It was fragile and transparent. It had survived one fall, but he didn’t think it would survive another.

 

He turned back to the door and Henry. “Let’s head back down. I should let someone know I made a mess up here.”

 

Henry frowned as though he was confused or angry on Kyungsoo’s behalf. He was a good guy. Kyungsoo gave him a crooked smile as he walked through the door.

 

Gripping the glass tightly, he headed down the stairs, and he didn’t turn around at the sound of Baekhyun’s “Soo” or Jongdae’s “wait.”

 

***

 

A/N:

Thanks for reading!