Strings Attached ➤ Jay

|| Static Breaks

🎙️

The Real Slim Shady -

*ੈ✩‧₊˚"I'm Slim Shady, yes, I'm the real Shady
All you other Slim Shadys are just imitating"🎶⋆⁺₊

⚡︎⚡︎⚡︎

Wednesday mornings felt lighter somehow.

The sun streamed in earlier, golden and soft, and the city felt less harsh on Wednesdays. I unlocked the shop at my usual time, flicking on the old fluorescent lights and inhaling the scent of stale wood polish and vinyl that clung to every surface. It smelled like music. Like home.

Dad was already at the counter, scribbling something onto a wrinkled receipt with his thick carpenter pencil, glasses perched low on his nose. He glanced up when I walked in, his tired eyes crinkling slightly.

"Morning, Byeol."

"Morning, bossman," I teased, shrugging off my black denim jacket. My dark blue hair fell into my face as I reached behind the counter for my coffee mug. Dad had already filled it with instant coffee, overly sweet the way I liked it. I took a grateful sip, letting the caffeine buzz my veins awake.

"Plans after work?" he asked casually, flicking through the till receipts.

"Yeah, actually," I replied, leaning against the counter. "Going to hang out with Nari and Minhee. She wants to show us her new tattoo."

Dad grunted in mild disapproval. "Just don't come back with one."

I rolled my eyes, smirking behind my mug. "No promises."

By noon, the shop was filling with its usual weekday crowd – old men searching for jazz reissues, students flipping through soul records for aesthetic Instagram stories, and a woman looking for a Sam Cooke vinyl she could gift her boyfriend to prove she had "taste." I bagged her record with a polite smile while internally screaming.

When the lunch lull hit, I hung up my apron and grabbed my tote bag. "I'll be back in two hours!" I called out to Dad, who waved me off distractedly while tuning an old acoustic guitar behind the counter.

The sun was bright as I stepped onto the street. I slipped my sunglasses on, pulling my hair into a quick bun as I walked down the block towards Café June, where Nari and Minhee were already waiting at a small outdoor table.

"Finally," Minhee drawled, flicking her freshly dyed silver hair over her shoulder dramatically. "Our queen arrives."

I rolled my eyes, dropping into the seat between them. "Shut up. You're the one who makes us wait forty minutes every time."

Minhee grinned, flashing her new tattoo – a small black swallow etched on her collarbone. "Worth it, though?"

"Okay, that's actually sick," I admitted, leaning forward to study it. "Does it have a deep philosophical meaning or did you just think it looked hot?"

"Both," she said without missing a beat, popping a fry into her mouth. "What about you, Nari? Ready to join the inked club?"

Nari blushed, shaking her head. She was the softest of us, with shoulder-length black hair and round glasses that made her look permanently concerned about everyone's well-being. "My parents would kill me."

"Fair," I said, stealing one of Minhee's fries. "Anyway, Minhee, remember that creepy rich guy I told you about yesterday?"

Minhee perked up instantly. "The one who tried to buy your guitar?"

"Yeah," I groaned, slumping back in my chair. "He came in acting like the world owes him everything. He offered triple what it's worth."

"And you said no?" Minhee exclaimed, scandalised. "Girl, that's three months' rent!"

"It's my guitar," I snapped, stabbing my fork into my salad. "He could offer me his entire bank account and I still wouldn't sell it."

"Hot," Minhee said with a dreamy sigh. "Rich and obsessed with you? Sounds like a Wattpad plot."

"Gross, and he's not obsessed, I saw him once." I said, shoving a mouthful of lettuce into my mouth to end the conversation.

We spent the next hour gossiping about Minhee's situationship with her tattoo artist and Nari's internship hell. By the time I checked my phone, it was nearly two-thirty.

"Shit, I gotta go," I said, standing up quickly. "Dad's alone at the shop."

"Tell bossman we say hi," Minhee called after me as I jogged away.

I walked back with the sun hot on my neck, the city buzzing with late afternoon energy. My boots echoed on the pavement as I reached Everblue Records, pushing open the familiar glass door. The bell jingled softly, the sound grounding me back into my world.

Dad was at the counter, staring down at the register with a frown. He looked up when I walked in, his face unreadable.

"Have fun?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied, hanging my tote bag on the hook behind the counter. "What's wrong?"

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "This place is getting busier, Byeol. I can't manage the backroom orders and the repairs while you're out front alone."

I shrugged, cracking open a bottle of water. "So... what do you wanna do about it?"

He paused for a moment, then sighed again, deeper this time. "I think... we need to hire someone else."

I blinked, surprised. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Just part-time. Someone to help you out with customers when I'm busy."

I chewed the inside of my cheek. I liked it being just us. The shop felt like mine when it was empty, like I was its only keeper. But I knew he was right. I couldn't be here every single day. My fingers were already calloused and bruised from guitar practice, and lately, even standing at the register felt heavy.

"Fine," I muttered. "I'll make a sign."

I rummaged around under the counter until I found a thick black Sharpie and a piece of cardboard. I scribbled out in big block letters:

HELP WANTED. INQUIRE WITHIN. MUST LIKE MUSIC. NO ASSHOLES.

I propped it up in the front window display next to my guitar cabinet and stepped back to study it. The letters were slightly slanted, and the last word was underlined twice for emphasis.

"Perfect," I said under my breath.

Dad chuckled behind me. "No assholes, huh?"

"Non-negotiable," I replied, giving him a small smirk.

As the afternoon waned, the golden hour light spilled through the blinds, casting long shadows across the wooden floors. I sat behind the counter, propping my chin up in my hand, staring out at the street as people passed by in blurs of beige and grey.

For a brief moment, everything felt peaceful. Like a held breath before the next verse.

Little did I know, the next verse was already being written. And its chords would reverberate through every quiet corner of my carefully guarded life.

But for now, I was content sipping watered-down iced coffee, sketching song lyrics onto receipt paper, and humming under my breath as the city moved around me.

⚡︎⚡︎⚡︎

A/N: no assholes.