Strings Attached ➤ Jay

|| Quiet Strings

🎸

Mr. Brightside -

⭒˚｡⋆"It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?
(It was only a kiss) It was only a kiss"⋆｡𖦹°

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The shop was unusually quiet today — like the rain had pressed mute on the whole street. The kind of slow afternoon where even the dust motes in the air seemed to be moving in lazy circles.

I sat on the counter with my legs crossed, my electric guitar in my lap, absentmindedly tuning the strings. It was something I did when I was restless, and today my nerves felt like static under my skin.

I'd barely slept the night before. Ever since the kiss — okay, ever since everything — there was this hum in my chest that wouldn't go away. And whenever Jay was around, it just... got louder.

"Careful, you're starting to look like you actually miss me when I'm not here."

The bell jingled and Jay's voice cut through my thoughts, smug and warm all at once. I nearly dropped my guitar.

"You can't just sneak up on people like that!" I said, glaring at him.

Jay strolled in, looking infuriatingly good as usual in a black hoodie and jeans that somehow managed to look expensive. "I didn't sneak. I rang the bell."

I hopped down from the counter, clutching my guitar. "The bell rang, not you. You just stood there like a creep."

He raised an eyebrow. "So dramatic. What were you playing?"

"Nothing," I said quickly.

Jay's eyes flicked to the guitar in my hands, and a slow grin spread across his face. "You were playing. You just don't want me to hear it."

"Correct," I said, brushing past him to put my guitar back in its case.

"Why?" he pressed, following me like a shadow.

"Because I don't owe you a free concert," I said, kneeling to snap the case shut.

He crouched down next to me, grinning. "You kind of do. I've been working here for weeks now and haven't heard a single note out of you."

"Congratulations," I deadpanned. "You've avoided losing your hearing."

Jay chuckled softly. "You know, for someone who insists she doesn't like me, you sure spend a lot of time acting like you care what I think."

I froze. "I do not care what you think."

"Yes, you do," he said lightly, standing and offering me a hand to help me up.

I ignored his hand, standing on my own. "You're unbearable."

"You say that," he said, "but you're smiling."

I realized — too late — that I was smiling. I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt and grabbed a stack of new arrivals to shelve.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a strange, almost comfortable rhythm. Jay stayed close, helping me sort through the shipment even though I hadn't asked. He made stupid comments about the album art ("This guy looks like he just saw a ghost," "Why is this font so ugly?") until I had to bite back a laugh more than once.

And then, right when it was starting to feel almost too comfortable, the bell jingled again.

"Hey," Nari said, stepping inside.

I blinked. "You were here yesterday."

She shrugged, smiling a little too brightly. "I was in the area."

Her outfit made me pause — a denim jacket over a band tee that looked eerily like something I would wear. And her eyeliner was even darker today.

"Cute jacket," I said slowly.

"Thanks," Nari said, glancing toward the back of the shop where Jay was organizing shelves. Her eyes lingered a second too long.

I swallowed the weird feeling creeping up my spine and forced a grin. "Want to hang out after work? Minhee might come too."

"Maybe," Nari said vaguely, already distracted by something on the shelf near Jay.

I busied myself with pricing albums, trying not to think too hard about how quiet she'd been with me lately — and how not-quiet she seemed when Jay was around.

By closing time, the sky had turned golden, and Jay leaned against the counter, watching me lock the register.

"Big day tomorrow?" he asked casually.

"Why?" I asked, giving him a look.

"You're cleaning up like you're preparing for royalty," he teased.

"It's called having pride in your work," I shot back.

Jay chuckled. "I'm sure that's it."

He grabbed his coat from the rack and, before heading out, tilted his head at me. "You know, you could let me hear one song sometime. Doesn't have to be a concert."

I hesitated, my fingers tightening on the register keys.

"You're really not going to let this go, are you?" I asked finally.

"Not a chance," he said with a grin. "See you tomorrow, Blue."

The bell jingled as he left, leaving me staring after him — and trying very hard not to smile like an idiot.

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A/N: mi me ma mo mu