Three delinquents in leather jackets and scuffed sneakers filled the space with noise. Their laughter was as loud as their music, their messy hair and cocky grins giving them the look of kids who lived carefree, burdenless.
Seojun's magenta hair stuck out like a warning under the flickering garage light as he hammered at his battered guitar. Every chord scraped and screamed, bouncing off the walls crowded with old amps and discarded soda cans. Oryong pounded on overturned buckets with wild abandon, Jiho belted into the mic like the world depended on it, and somewhere in the chaos, laughter tangled with the sound of distorted strings.
Halfway through the chorus, a sharp TWANG cut through the noise. One of Seojun's strings snapped.
"Ah, Fuck!" Seojun hissed, shaking his hand.
Oryong grinned. "There goes our rhythm."
"Shut up, I can still play it." Seojun strummed stubbornly with the rest of the strings. The sound was ugly, but he leaned into it.
They laughed through the mess, finishing the song with a crash of noise that rattled the garage walls.
Breathing heavy, Seojun dropped onto an overturned crate, his busted guitar sliding off his lap. Sweat clung to his magenta bangs.
"Not bad," Oryong said, tossing a broken drumstick into the corner. "For a rookie band, that is."
"That's just our warm-up," Jiho smirked, gripping the mic stand like it was still a stage. "Give us a real crowd, and we'll blow the roof off."
Seojun chuckled, stretching his arms with a pop. "Yeah, yeah. Though, I'm kinda thirsty." He nudged his guitar with his foot. "You guys wanna go grab a drink?"
Oryong slung his jacket over his shoulder. "Only if you're paying."
"Please," Seojun shot back with a grin. "You still owe me from last time."
Jiho slipped between them, arms hooked over their shoulders. "Fine, fine. But one day, when we're legends, we'll laugh about this broke garage life."
Later, in a quiet café…
The café was almost empty, just the faint hiss of an old espresso machine and the low hum of a fridge in the corner. The three of them sat by the window, empty soda bottles and crumpled napkins piling up on the table.
Oryong leaned back in his chair, feet kicked up, smirking as he tapped a spoon like it was a drumstick.
"Our band's gonna rule the world, I'm telling you. We'll have arenas packed, people screaming our names."
Jiho grinned, resting his chin on his hand. "World domination, huh? That's one way to put it."
Seojun snorted, brushing his magenta bangs out of his eyes. "Damn right. We'll make 'em all kneel before the noise."
Oryong raised his soda bottle like a toast, but his words carried a strange edge.
"Yeah. The world's not ready for us. But… doesn't matter. We'll take it anyway."
Seojun laughed, not noticing the shift. "That's the spirit! We'll be the best band in the entire town!"
Jiho's smile sharpened slightly, eyes glinting in the dim light.
"Music's just the start, Seojun. We'll… leave a bigger mark than that. Trust me."
Seojun leaned back, grinning like he thought it was a joke. "Yeah, yeah. Bigger mark. Global legends. I get it."
The three clinked bottles together. Their laughter filled the quiet café.
Then Seojun's eyes caught something outside. Through the window, under the streetlamp's sickly glow, three drunk men stumbled down the sidewalk. One of them resting a baseball bat on his shoulder, another was waving a knife, slashing the air like he was itching for trouble.
"...Hey." Seojun set his bottle down. His voice dropped. "Look out there."
Oryong twisted his head lazily. "What about it?"
"That guy's got a knife."
Jiho shrugged, unfazed. "So what?"
Seojun frowned, watching the men stagger closer. "They could hurt someone."
"They won't," Oryong said flatly, popping a peanut into his mouth. "Just drunk losers acting scary. Ignore them."
Jiho gave a soft chuckle, almost too casual. "Relax, Seojun. It's none of our business."
Seojun stared at them, unsettled by how easily they brushed it off. He pressed his lips together, then shook his head.
"...Fine. Whatever you say."
A while later,
The three of them left the café, the night air cool against their faces as neon signs buzzed overhead. Their laughter from earlier still lingered, echoing off the empty pavement.
Suddenly, Seojun's steps slowed.
Up ahead, under the dim glow of a flickering streetlight, the three drunk men from earlier staggered along. This time, they weren't just waving their weapons in the air, they were trailing behind a lone woman walking quickly, her shoulders tense, clutching her bag like a lifeline.
Oryong noticed him stop. "...Seojun?"
Jiho followed his gaze. "Seojun." His tone carried a warning.
But Seojun's voice ripped through the silence before they could stop him.
"HEY!"
The woman flinched and hurried ahead. The three drunk men turned, squinting blearily at the boys. One twirled the knife in his hand, another leaned lazily on a baseball bat.
"The hell you want, kid?" the knife-man slurred.
Seojun stepped forward, fearless, his smirk sharp. "What do I want? I want to know if you idiots are planning to mug a woman for beer money, or if that's just how you creep around for fun."
The drunks bristled. The one with the bat spat on the pavement. "You got a death wish, punk?"
Seojun rolled his shoulders, closing the distance. "I can ask you the same."
Behind him, Jiho raised a hand. "Seojun–"
But Seojun didn't stop.
Oryong swore under his breath. "...Damn it." He broke into a run to catch up.
Jiho sighed. "...Shit." He darted after them too.
The two group CLASHED.
One of the drunks slammed into Seojun, grappling him by the shoulders, shoving him back toward the ground. Seojun struggled, his teeth gritted as the man tried to pin him down.
On the other side, Oryong threw a wild punch, knuckles cracking against a thug's jaw. The man reeled, but swung back, forcing Oryong to duck and counter with another blow to the gut. Snarling, Oryong caught him by the throat and slammed him against the wall, pinning him there.
The thug's eyes widened as he sees Oryong's face close-up. "...You–"
"Shut up." Oryong's fist silenced him, the man collapsing unconscious onto the pavement.
Meanwhile, Jiho sidestepped smoothly as the thug with the bat swung at him. The bat whooshed past, nearly grazing his temple. Jiho's eyes narrowed, cool under pressure, his body moving with sharp precision.
Seojun wasn't faring as well. The knife thug had him pinned to the ground now, the cold blade flashing as it raised high. Seojun's eyes widened–
A few steps away, Jiho ducked as the thug with the baseball bat swung hard at his head. The bat cut the air with a vicious whoosh, so close he felt the wind on his cheek.
He sidestepped, sharp and fast, but his eyes flicked to Seojun–
"Seojun!"
Seojun struggled, his muscles straining against the weight pinning him down.
"Get off–!"
But the thug had already went for the stab–
A sharp KICK from the side sent the thug sprawling. Jiho was already there, gripping Seojun's arm, hauling him up to his shaky legs.
"Seojun, we should run, now!"
Seojun staggered up, breath ragged, but before they could move–
"BEHIND YOU!" Oryong shouted.
One of the thugs had circled behind, the baseball bat raised high, seconds from smashing it into Jiho's skull.
Seojun didn't think. His hands moved on instinct. He swung his battered guitar in a wide arc.
CRASH!
The body of the guitar shattered against the thug's head, strings whipping loose, wood splintering. The man crumpled to the ground, out cold.
…
That was close…
Seojun's eyes flickered to the knife thug.
For a second, their eyes met.
The thug's eyes flicked nervously, then froze.
"...Uh–" he croaked, and with the fakest groan Seojun had ever heard, the man flopped sideways, tongue lolling out. He let the knife slip dramatically from his fingers and went completely still.
Really…?
Jiho pointed to Seojun's guitar. "...Hey, Your guitar."
Seojun stared at the broken guitar in his hand. For a moment, he looked almost bothered. Then he smirked and shrugged.
"Whatever. I'll buy another one."
Jiho gawked. "That was your favorite, though..."
"It's just a guitar," Seojun cut in, turning away. "Don't make it dramatic."
It was my everything.
Seojun's smirk lingered as he turned back to the thug sprawled on the pavement.
"...Still playing dead, huh?" he muttered.
Oryong raised a brow. "Seojun, leave it. He's done."
But Seojun stepped forward anyway. The broken neck of his guitar dangled loosely in one hand as he crouched beside the thug. He gave the man's cheek a light slap.
The thug didn't react.
Another slap–
The thug's eyes cracked open.
"Thought so," Seojun said quietly, leaning closer. His magenta bangs shadowed his eyes.
"Next time you do something like this, I'll cripple you. Got it?"
The thug nods shakingly.
"Good, now go report yourself to the authority."
The thug scrambled to his feet and bolted into the dark without looking back.
Seojun let out a breath, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off the fight. He glanced down at the broken neck of his guitar, lips curling into a half-smirk.
When he looked back up, Oryong and Jiho weren't laughing or relaxed. They were staring at each other like something they didn't want to happen just did.
"…What?" Seojun frowned. "What's wrong?"
Oryong straightened, his jaw tight. "Nothing. We just… we gotta go."
"Yeah." Jiho's tone was unusually clipped. "Somewhere we need to be."
Before Seojun could press, they both turned on their heels and started jogging off into the night.
"Oi!" Seojun called after them, waving with the jagged guitar neck still in hand. "Go home safe!"
"You too!" they shouted back in unison without looking over their shoulders.
Seojun shook his head, a crooked smile tugging at his lips as he watched them disappear into the distance.
"You two idiots, I owe you my life." He sighed, tucking his busted guitar under his arm before heading home alone.
Later that night, Oryong and Jiho stood in front of a pawn shop window. Behind the glass sat a sleek electric guitar, shining under the neon light.
"That's the one he's been staring at, right?" Oryong asked, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket.
"Yeah," Jiho said, smirking. "Can you imagine his face if we give him this in his birthday?"
They glanced at each other, then burst out laughing.
"Alright," Jiho said, gripping the bat he carried everywhere. "Birthday surprise it is."
With one swing. CRASH. Glass rained down onto the pavement.
A few days later, Seojun's birthday.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Seojun opened the apartment door to see Oryong and Jiho grinning like idiots. He immediately pulled them into a hug.
"You two alright? You've heard the news, right? Those thieves. Guys insane, jumping people all over town, stealing from stores."
"Pfft, we're fine," Oryong said quickly, brushing it off. "Worry about yourself, man."
Jiho grinned. "Besides, we've got bigger stuff to think about. Our band? World domination? It's happening."
Seojun laughed, shaking his head. "Your optimism surprises me."
"Speaking of surprise…" Oryong and Jiho exchanged a look, then shoved a big gift box into Seojun's arms.
"Don't open it yet," Jiho said. "Wait until after the party."
Seojun raised an eyebrow. "What, is this a cake that explodes or something?"
"Just wait," Oryong said, pushing past him into the house. "You'll thank us later."
Seojun sighed, smiling as he followed them in.
Seojun's cramped living room was filled with laughter and cheap decorations taped to the walls. A tiny cake sat on the table, half its frosting already smudged from Ohryong's finger.
"Hey! I said wait until the candles," Seojun groaned, swatting his friend's hand away.
"Couldn't help it," Oryong grinned. "Sugar addiction, man. It's by instinct."
Jiho smirked, strumming Seojun's busted guitar like it was still whole. "This thing is garbage now, but it still makes noise. You could make it a signature sound, y'know? 'The Broken String Special.'"
Everyone laughed. Even Seojun, though a part of him winced.
Later, mid-party, the three of them slumped around the table, bellies full of cheap snacks and soda. The big gift box sat in the corner like it was waiting.
Jiho leaned back, resting his hand on top of it. His voice was casual, but his eyes flickered strangely.
"Hey, Seojun... just so you know, this gift, it's really special."
Oryong nodded, serious for once. "Yeah. So promise us something, alright? Whatever happens... don't throw this one away. Hold onto it. Always."
Seojun froze, thrown off by their tone.
"What's with you guys? It's just a birthday, not my funeral."
Jiho's smile flickered, stretched too tight, like it was holding something back. "Just promise," he said softly. "Please."
Seojun rolled his eyes but chuckled. "Fine, fine. I promise. Happy?"
The two grinned, clinking their soda cans together.
Hours later, the party wound down. Seojun and his mom stood by the door, waving as Oryong and Jiho stepped out into the cool night.
"Thanks for coming," Seojun's mom said warmly.
"Yeah, see you tomorrow," Seojun added, his arms crossed but his grin easy.
The two boys walked away, then paused. Almost in sync, they glanced back at Seojun. Their smiles looked the same as always, but something in their eyes lingered, something heavy.
Then the door closed.
Seojun stood there for a second, staring at the wood grain as if it could give him answers.
And that was the last night I've gotten a good night's sleep.
That was the night everything ended, the night their laughter started to haunt me, the night the music cut off mid-song. And I've been stuck in the past ever since. Why? Because of what happened after that night... I still don't understand, why it happened...
Seojun let out a long breath, his reflection faint in the mirror. His hair was no longer the loud magenta of his youth, just plain black now, like the fire had been drained out of him. Dark circles weighed down his eyes, the bags beneath them a reminder of sleepless nights.