Strings Attached ➤ Jay

|| Sunday Static, Monday Trouble

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Just Keep Watching -

"Just like this, here for the night
You ain't buying in? Just keep watching"

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Sundays always carried a different texture to them. Lighter, slower, like the air itself was telling me to breathe deeper and let the vinyl dust settle for a day. No customers. No registers beeping. No endless debates with collectors about why Fleetwood Mac's Rumours original press wasn't worth the price of a small car.

I padded into the kitchen in an oversized band tee, brushing my messy dark-blue hair out of my face as Dad poured himself coffee. He wore his same faded flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up like he was about to chop firewood instead of read the paper.

"I'm heading to the Echo Room today," I announced, snagging a piece of toast before he could butter it. "Gonna play for a while with Nari and Minhee. Oh, and Jinwoo too. He'll be working, obviously."

Dad raised an eyebrow over his mug. "And tomorrow?"

I hesitated, chewing. "Actually... the Echo Room's got an open mic event tomorrow night. I was thinking of leaving work a little early to play."

"You're asking?" he said, pretending to be surprised.

"Yes, Dad, I am asking." I shot him my best don't-start look. "Can I go?"

He set his mug down, eyes twinkling. "Of course. You deserve it. I'll hold down the fort."

I grinned. "You're the best," I said, pecked him on the cheek, and was out the door with my guitar case slung over my shoulder.

The Echo Room wasn't shiny or polished — it was stubbornly itself. Dark wood floors, scuffed tables, walls lined with framed posters of every local band that had ever played there. The lighting was always dim, the air always a little thick with old smoke, though no one had been allowed to smoke inside for years.

Jinwoo stood behind the counter, already wiping mugs with that same ancient rag like it was fused to his hand. He glanced up as I pushed the door open.

"Well, well, well. Bluebird's here," he said, nodding at my hair. "Stage is yours."

"Don't call me that," I groaned, hoisting my guitar onto a nearby stool. "It makes me sound like I should be whistling outside someone's window."

He smirked. "Wouldn't put it past you."

Before I could retort, the door jingled again and in tumbled Nari and Minhee.

Nari looked soft as ever, with her dark bob bouncing slightly and her round glasses fogging up from the cold air outside. She waved, her whole face brightening like she hadn't seen me in years, not just two days.

"Byeol!" she squeaked, rushing over to hug me. "I need to hear your new song today, okay? Don't even argue."

Minhee followed at a slower pace, tossing her freshly silver hair like she was in a shampoo commercial. Her swallow tattoo peeked from beneath her shirt collar as she plopped dramatically onto a chair.

"You wouldn't believe the week I've had," she sighed. "But first, someone please bring me caffeine before I shrivel up and die."

"I got you," Jinwoo said lazily, pouring her a coffee without even asking her order. He knew all of ours by heart.

"See, this is why Jinwoo is the superior man," Minhee declared, raising her mug in salute. "He just knows."

Jinwoo smirked, leaning on the counter. "Don't romanticize me. I'm just a guy with too much dish soap on my hands."

We laughed, and the easy rhythm of our friendship settled around us like music itself.

I eventually slipped onto the small stage, plugged my guitar in, and let the first chords ring out. The notes spilled across the empty tables, filling the air with something richer than silence.

Nari clasped her hands under her chin. Minhee pretended to be unimpressed, though her foot tapped against the floor. Jinwoo, for once, paused his eternal mug-wiping and just listened, head tilted like he was cataloging the way the sound hit the walls.

I closed my eyes, voice slipping free almost without effort. This was my place. My people. The world could feel too heavy in the shop sometimes, but here? Here I was weightless.

The weight returned as soon as I stepped back into the record shop the next day. My blue hair was messier than usual — I hadn't even tried to tame it beyond a halfhearted brush-through — and I carried my coffee like a lifeline.

The shop smelled like it always did: dusty vinyl, aging wood, faint citrus cleaner. I was halfway through sipping when the bell jingled, and in walked Jay, right on cue.

He looked disgustingly well put together, as always — pressed shirt, perfect hair, not a wrinkle in sight. Like he'd stepped out of a lifestyle magazine while I'd just rolled out of bed.

I sighed. "Morning, your highness."

"Morning," he said smoothly, eyes flicking to my coffee. "Did you buy me one?"

I snorted. "Did hell freeze over? No."

He was about to retort when Dad emerged from the back room, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Oh good, you're both here," Dad said cheerfully. "Eunbyeol, I meant to tell you — you can head to the Echo Room early tonight. And Jay..." He turned toward him with an approving nod. "Why don't you go with her?"

I froze mid-sip. "Excuse me?"

Jay blinked. "Go with her... where?"

"The Echo Room. She's playing tonight. It might be fun. You two could get along better outside the shop."

My eyes widened. "Dad. No. Absolutely not. Someone has to watch the store."

"I'll watch the store," Dad said calmly, like that solved everything.

I spluttered. "That's not the point! He doesn't need to come. He probably doesn't even like live music that doesn't cost a thousand dollars a ticket."

Jay smirked, clearly enjoying my meltdown. "Actually, I'd love to see where you play."

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "Of course you would."

Dad crossed his arms, which was basically his way of saying discussion over.

"Fine," I muttered. "But don't say I didn't warn you if you get bored to death."

Jay's grin only widened. "Something tells me I won't."

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw my brain. This was going to be a disaster.

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A/N: yummy