Of course, it has to be you. With your luck and clumsiness, there’s no way you could get home after a night out without getting spilled something on you.

It would be okay, you wouldn’t care since it can be dried in the bathroom but of all day, you chose this one to wear your pretty white satin blouse which is perfect for hot summer days like this. And the drink that drunken bastard poured all over the thin fabric unfortunately happened to be neon blue. So there’s you with a huge faded blue wet patch on the front of your white shirt. It puts your lacy bras on full display which you wouldn’t really care about on some other day but you don’t want all the drunk guys in the bar looking at the defined lines of your s.

You leave the ladies’ bathroom behind when it starts to get too crowded and stand in the corridor trying to ring your friend whom you should have met here. If even she bails on you then you would really have nothing to stay for.

“Damn,” you swear annoyed when the phone cuts off the ringing redirecting you to the voicemails. It can’t be any worse, your mood is already ruined for the night. You’re feeling like exploding and snapping at the first person you stumble upon.

Be it the irony of fate or something else, but you don’t even have to wait long for somebody to find you and act like the knight on a white horse coming for a damsel in distress.

“Hey, are you okay?” a kind voice startle you from behind and you’re ready to spit fire and explain that of course, everything is just perfect, he can off… but then you whip around and whatever swallow it is, the sight alone renders you speechless. The fact that in front of you there’s the hottest guy you have seen in the bar so far and the words freeze onto the tip of your tongue.

“Sure, just got spilled on and got stood up by my friend. So I think that’s my cue to head home,” you murmur bitterly but you can’t take your eyes off of this guy. He’s a head taller than you, a slender figure but as his black, fashionably torn pants hugged his thighs indicated that he isn’t too skinny at all. He wears a nice pair of boots, a UK flag shirt with the famous tongue logo and a black leather jacket which is already your weakness. Oh… is that a choker damn?! And gosh his face! He could be a model with that sharp jawline and thick eyelashes. Not to mention his dark, pushed back hair has a defined undercut which is a great look on him but the cherry on the cake is his soothing voice! You seriously can’t believe that this first class guy has to see you at your worst: angry and in ruined clothes.

He doesn’t give you disgusted looks even though his gaze definitely settles on the patch the drink left over your for a fleeting moment.

“Oh I see. Do you–” he blinks as the realization hits him and without finishing his sentence he shrugs off his jacket holding it towards you. “Here, take this.”

“I can’t… I–” you hesitate because the option to go home, get a shower to get rid of this sticky shirt and go to bed early, maybe watch a few shows is really inviting. But on the other hand there was this guy and maybe you wouldn’t get a chance like this next time. Not with one who flashes a smile and the world blooms flowers.

“It’s okay. Just give me back after the performance,” he tells you and before you can say anything he gently covers your shoulders with the material and then runs off in the crowd.

What the hell was with the performance anyway? You don’t understand anything. But you can’t leave now with somebody else’s jacket, especially not knowing how to give it back to him afterwards, so you decide that a drink alone can’t hurt.

You put on the leather cloth entirely and smile at how the sleeves were just slightly longer that your arms, enough for your fingers to peak out. It has a distinct peppermint smell, a really nice one, so you feel cozy in it immediately and you’re glad to realize it helps covering the stain on your shirt too.

“And Ladies and Gents, let’s welcome the Royal Rebels in our humble home!” one of the bartender’s presents the next act on the not too big stage in one corner of the bar while you’re in the middle of ordering a vodka lemonade. Might as well give your night a good continuation after meeting Mr. Dazzling Hot, you faintly think as you decide on the cocktail.

Lots of claps and oooh-ing greets the guys walking up to the stage as they find their places behind the instruments. A young guy with emo-haircut sits behind the drums, a tall, blonde one has the keyboard, a cute-looking one is with the bass and then running up to the front mic it’s no other then the hot guy in UK flag shirt.

“Whaaaassup everybody?” he hollers into the mic which earns an approving screaming on the audience’s part. You have to admit the confidence he has on stage is bewildering. And gosh, you’re captivated immediately. You take your drink as soon as you get it and try to inch closer to the stage still staring. You can’t quite believe that you managed to get the jacket of a guy who has local fangirls screaming his name… apparently Kihyun. The guy who just smirks down at the handful of girls and signals to the drummer to give him a beat as he introduces the first song.

“Let’s give a good start to this thing, alright? Here comes Cherry dreams,” he shouts and the crowd goes wild, seemingly they know the song already as they sing along about the unfair system trying to shut out the creative ones. It has great lyrics but who would have thought that the UK flag shirt guy… Kihyun can sing so well, so smoothly and raspy at the same time?

You have never been a huge rock fan, but this is just too good to ignore. It doesn’t take long and you get a hold of it screaming together with the audience to the songs you merely hear for the first time.

An hour flies way too quickly to your liking because you are enjoying yourself way too much. When Kihyun announces that it’s the end of their set, you boo with everyone else and he just laughs.

“Okay, okay… one last song, alright?” he winks flirtatiously and you swear he looks at you while he’s at it.

The final song, Runaway baby, is well… a bit suggestive and the way Kihyun performs it just make it more sinful. Yet, you can’t look away, no matter how hot you feel in the aspiring rockstar’s leather jacket. He’s wild, a summer storm in a jar in front of you and he’s all that: the lighting, the wind, the rain but the heat, too. It’s a sight to behold and it takes your breath away.

You nearly forget about your drink, your fingers only grip tighter around the glass when the song is over, the audience screams at the top of their lungs and the band starts to pack up. It feels like you only breathe properly now but suddenly you don’t know what to do with yourself. You self-proclaimed saviour said that you should his jacket back after the performance, so now you should search for him or…

“Did you enjoy the concert?” a body fluidly plops down onto the bar stool next to you answering your untold question.

Your gaze is drawn to the boy with hair drenched in sweat, eyes burning with fire and you can’t help but grin widely.

“It was really something else,” you lightly. Different can be bad but it can be good too, too good.

“Did it lift your mood?” he asks, curious but not prying, attentive and kind. He’s not just about talks you realize with a silent sigh. Or at least you hope he isn’t. You have heard too much about his type. Wanna-be musicians with big dreams and girls on each arm.

“You know what? Yeah. I feel like I could stand out on the street and scream without care,” you tell him honestly since the rawness in their music made you brave too, like you could do anything. If you rebel, who could stop you anyway? Who would dare?

“We could do that,” he laughs and you giggle too because his laughter is contagious.

“I’m serious though,” you say and that’s how you end up yelling all your frustration out in the street. You vent about friends who , drunk guys careless with their drinks, university and your ty workplace. You probably tell too much but you don’t care. It feels good to let the stream out. Your throat may hurt but it feels good, as if a hard rock was lifted from your chest. And the street – and Kihyun – listens.

You turn to him with adrenaline heaving your chest like you have just fought the graffitied wall you shouted at and he beams at you, open and proud. You’re sober, you didn’t even drink that one cocktail and yet, you feel so high.

“How does it feel?” he raises an eyebrow stepping closer… and closer until you can feel his body heat. You vaguely remember you should hand his jacket back before he gets cold but you’re distracted by his closeness.

“Good. A bit like salvation,” you laugh, embarrassed, tucking a stray lock behind your ear.

Kihyun smiles like he’s satisfied and opens his mouth to say something but before any word could get past his lips, his phone rings. An old Guns N Roses song you like plays as his ringtone. The singer fishes the mobile out of his pocket and grimaces at the sight of the screen.

“The guys are calling. I’m the designated driver today.”

“Oh. Cool. It was nice to…” you try not to sound disappointed even though you probably enjoyed the night a lot more than you would have if it wasn’t for him. You don’t want to say goodbye yet and from the looks of it, as he interrupts you, Kihyun neither.

“I can take you home, too. I mean… Okay, let me rephrase,” he scratches his nape awkwardly with a wobbly smile. It’s cute. “Can I take you home after I dropped off my idiot band mates with the minivan?”

You’re a bit taken aback but that’s not your biggest concern right now.

“Are you sure I’m not being a bother?”

“Of course. The guys wouldn’t mind either,” the singer promises and against all the warning of your mother about not getting into strangers’ cars, you nod and follow him.

He’s not a stranger, you would like to believe. He’s Kihyun, a few years older and he’s kind, that’s enough to know for now.

When you arrive to the van, it’s buzzing with excitement. The guys are pumped except the pink haired one who’s already sleeping in the passenger’s seat. That’s Hyungwon, the singer tells you and then introduces you to Changkyun and Minhyuk who both grin at you cheekily. Riding with them is an adventure itself as they play carpool karaoke and sing to their hearts’ content. They are loud, a bit drunk but you don’t mind at all as you smile at Kihyun through the rear mirror and he smiles back. It’s so good.

Kihyun drops the guys off at different parts of the city and you even find it hot how confidently he drives. You’re caught staring more than enough time but you don’t really feel shy about it though.

“Don’t in the van, guys,” the newly woken tall bandmate calls out when he gets off and the drummer retorts with:

“But if you do there’s in the glove storage. Stay safe!” he winks and you mutter an oh my gosh beneath your nose chuckling.

“Sorry. They are being idiots,” Kihyun apologizes for his friends even though there’s no need.

“It’s ok,” you shrug because it’s really is. You know how people get. You live the average college student’s life, so you know exactly that all parties are like this. Still it makes you wonder.

“Do you take lots of girls home after concerts?” you ask in a teasing tone.

“No, just the ones who look better in my leather jacket than me,” Kihyun replies oh so casually and you burst out laughing.

“Nice save.”

“So… where to?” the singer trails off as he turns down the volume of the Ramones CD you have been listening to.

“Actually I crave some greasy food. Can we get fries with ketchup somewhere?” you blurt out not even thinking of the implication behind your words or that Kihyun must meant the address of your place so he can drop you off. You realize it all too late and then you think better of it. He must be tired, you shouldn’t keep him up too late. “But if you wanna go, I don’t want to keep you waiting…”

“No, let’s go. Junk food sounds amazing right now,” Kihyun flashes you a blinding smile that makes his eyes disappear in crescents.

He drives around until you find and all-night open diner. You have French fries with ketchup and it gets messy but both of you just laugh. Kihyun eats his burger in record time and you almost feel bad for laughing when he chokes on it. Almost. He brought it on himself. You’ve finished half of  your strawberry shake when you ask him something you’ve been wondering about since listening to Cherry dreams:

“Do you write your own music?”

“Yeah we do. It’s always about what we dream about, what we want, what we fear,” he nods along but both of you’re aware that today’s show only had a few original songs. “But of course the audience needs the familiar songs, that’s why we do covers too.”

“I’m sure you hear it a lot but you have an amazing voice,” you compliment him because he has to know and it’s cute when he becomes a bit bashful after hearing it.

He starts talking about how it has always been music for him. That he studied music theory at university but left because it wasn’t practical enough. (Figures.) He founded the Royal Rebels two years ago with his cousin, Changkyun and then their friends joined. They go to festivals and events, perform sometimes in places like the bar but they don’t earn much with music. Maybe one day and until then he can work at that corner café. He also shares that he would like to get a tattoo on his collarbones (at least the first), something music-related but he isn’t sure what exactly, so he’s waiting for the inspiration.

Even though he knows a lot about you from your shouted rant in the alley next to the bar, he still asks questions. About your major, your life but mostly your dreams and you tell him everything he would like to know.

It’s well past 3AM when you leave the diner and you still wear his leather jacket.

“Can I take you somewhere?” Kihyun asks in a gentle voice. You should be tired but somehow fatigueness disappeared from your body, so you nod. You’re too curious for your own good anyway.

The singer drives to the edge of the city, parking in an abandoned parking lot next to some factory.

“Is this where you’re going to murder me?” you jokingly ask and he makes a face like he’s thinking about it.

“Depends. Are you gonna haunt me after it?”

“You’ll never get rid of me,” you banter because you’re in to play this game, this outright flirting. You enjoy the excitement in your stomach as you hear him laugh.

“Good,” Kihyun mumbles cheekily. He motions you to get in the back of the van, onto the blanket among the instruments and he opens the back door from the outside providing you an amazing view of the illuminated city made of tiny bright dots and the starry sky.

“Wow,” you sigh in awe and astonishment. You have never seen the city so beautiful before.

“Great, right? I often come to this spot to find inspiration,” Kihyun says as he settles beside you. His bare arm brushes against your leather-covered one.

“Is it working?” you turn towards him and see the stars’ reflections in his eyes. It’s beautiful, painting him ethereal.

“Usually.”

“Right now?” you ask because you’re curious what he’s thinking about and how an artist would describe this moment, the collision of the two of you.

Something tugs on the corners of Kihyun’s mouth and it reaches the warmth in his eyes.

“I see poetry in your eyes, too,” he says softly and for a moment it leaves you speechless. Wow, he has a way with words!

“Eww cheesy,” you giggle but you can’t help the blush creeping onto your already rosy cheeks. How could you with that look he gives you?

“But it’s true. I find inspiration in the smallest things that’s why I like to live in the moment, freely and spontaneously,” he explains in a serene voice and it sounds sincere and a bit dangerous if you allow yourself to fall too fast. You don’t even dare to look at him anymore, afraid of what you might see in those galaxy eyes that helped you discover wonders in barely a few hours.

There’s a short pause, a heavy silence and then a secret is out and gone like cigarette smoke.

“I don’t even know your full name but I’m a little bit in love with you already,” the singer says softly, careful not to scare but still taken aback, you draw in a breath as you taste fear on the tip of your tongue.

“That’s a reckless thing to say,” you whisper.

You rarely wear your heart on your sleeve and even if you feel the same, you’re careful. You’ve barely known each other after all. It was enough to hang out one during the night but…. Who knows how this night is going to end? What if he says this to every girls? If he wants nothing more than a hook-up? Would your fragile heart be okay with it?

“Well then I’m fearless,” Kihyun shrugs nonchalantly, genuineness written all over his face. Behind all that on-stage confidence, now there’s uncertainty, too. “What would you say if I asked you out?”

Suddenly your heart is beating loudly, pounding like it did during the Royal Rebels’ performance. So the singer feels this thing between you, too.

“Do it and find out,” you tell for the sake of keeping your mysterious impression even though you would say yes in a heartbeat. Kihyun doesn’t mind though.

“Maybe I will,” he promises and without any further words both of your attention drifts to the rising Sun’s appearance on the horizon.

You watch the serene sight in silence for a while, just adoring as the light touches the city giving it a natural glow. You turn to the boy loving the way the rays his skin painting it gold. He’s not just hot and handsome, he’s beautiful in all the aspects you’ve seen today.

It’s your phone’s vibration that startles you out of the daydream.

“Now my friend is worried about me,” you grimace and can’t suppress a yawn. “I should go home.”

“Let’s go,” Kihyun agrees and there’s no grunge in his voice. He stands up first and helps you get up too to go back to the front seats.

The ride to your place is a quiet one. The CD still plays and you see the singer drumming with his fingers on the steering wheel. It’s not awkward, you both are just tired.

“And this is me,” you point at an apartment building on the corner and unfasten your seatbelt when Kihyun finds a parking spot close-by.

“Ah wait…” you take off the jacket to hand it back finally to the legal owner but Kihyun’s hand closes around yours pushing the cloth back to your chest.

“Keep it. It looks better on you anyway,” he says and it’s so cliché, so romcom movie-like and yet, your weak heart soars.

“Thanks for tonight. I had loads of fun,” you admit truthfully with a huge smile plastered to your face.

“Me too,” the rock band singer answers while his fingers are playing with yours. His touch is both soothing yet exciting. “So what about next Friday 7PM?”

His question takes you aback for a moment but then as soon as you realize what’s happening, you beam at him.

“For a date?”

“For a date,” he confirms with a nod.

“Perfect,” you agree too easily but you can’t help it. You’re giddy and you don’t even hesitate to put a cute emoji next to Kihyun’s name in your contacts. You get out of the car and tap the window for Kihyun to lower. “But next time you gotta serenade me.”

“Okay,” he laughs lightheartedly and you wave from the pavement as he drives away.

That’s how awful after an annoyingly terrible beginning, you score a date by the end the night with a rocker.