Terrace Taunts and Textbook Encouragement
Myeongjeon stretched his stiff neck this way and that as he stepped out of the classroom. He'd definitely thought his eyes were open, but somehow he'd face-planted onto his desk and dozed off.
If I keep sleeping like this, I'm gonna get a herniated disc... Should he buy a neck pillow? But if he whipped one out in front of the teachers and they asked, "What's that for?" and he said, "To prevent a herniated disc while sleeping," they sure as hell wouldn't let it slide. Well, Ha Suyeon was Gen MZ, so maybe they'd cut him some slack anyway. Myeongjeon started overanalyzing the MZ generation.
But more than that, if school's gonna be like this, why even bother starting the semester? Was it like this back in my day? It was too long ago to remember clearly, but he vaguely recalled having actual classes after winter break back then... something like that. That's why he'd pushed the kids hard before break ended, trying to level them up, even if it felt a bit harsh. But now that school was actually in session, they were doing jack shit, and spring break was just days away.
"Seriously, why even open school if this is how it's gonna be."
Suddenly craving a smoke, Myeongjeon unconsciously reached into his pocket. No cigarettes, of course. Someday I gotta hit up a convenience store and stock up, he thought, heading to the terrace for some fresh air instead.
"Hey."
"Yo."
"Neck hurt or something?"
"Kinda, yeah..."
"Uh... Suyeon, want some of this?"
"I'm good."
On the way to the terrace, he waved at the kids he'd gotten familiar with lately... and got waves back. One of them was even the girl he'd apologized to recently.
"Nah, it wasn't that big a deal to warrant an apology..." or something like that.
Shaking his head at the boy offering snacks, Myeongjeon pushed open the terrace door.
"Huh? Yeon-su?"
A cluster of girls on the terrace. Myeongjeon gave them a casual wave, leaned against the railing, and gazed out beyond the school grounds. It felt like he could finally breathe a little—until one of the girls nearby called his name.
"Yeon-su. You been going around apologizing to all the losers lately?"
He glanced over. It was Kwon Ji-hye from Class 4. The one who always greeted him in passing and tossed out these ambiguous, half-taunting comments. Digging through Suyeon's old memories, she was vaguely there—maybe a friend, maybe not... kinda close? It was fuzzy.
"Why are they losers?"
"Heh... heh... Yeon-su, your edge is totally gone. Old you would've smacked those losers upside the head without a second thought. Why the goody-two-shoes act?"
She clomped over and planted herself in front of him, trying to look intimidating. To Myeongjeon, she just came off like a high school girl posturing.
"Heard you're in a band or something. Laying groundwork for a broadcast debut? Washing your image by sucking up to the losers? Like, 'Oops, I bullied a bit back in the day, forgive me~'?"
"Can't say there's zero truth to that. If that wasn't a factor, the thought of apologizing probably wouldn't have crossed my mind."
Ji-hye pulled an exaggerated ooh face at his response. The girls around her cackled mockingly.
"Dude, that's straight-up lame. What if they don't accept it? You gonna bail on the debut?"
"Eh, could happen..."
Myeongjeon shrugged, waved goodbye, and headed back to class. Life was too long to waste on petty gang crap—and those girls needed to figure that out.
"What's her deal lately?"
"Dunno. Must've eaten something funky."
As the girls gossiped about the "disappeared" Suyeon, Ji-hye stared stone-faced at the terrace door.
"Kinda sick of Suyeon pulling this shit. Should I tell Joo-hee sunbae?"
"You nuts?"
One girl's suggestion hung in the air, but before anyone could respond, Ji-hye cut in sharply.
"What, calling her 'sunbae' after she straight-up dropped out? Screw that dropout bitch—just ignore her."
"But Kwon Ji, you seemed pissed about her acting all weird earlier."
"Hey. Even if she's a friend, you gonna cockblock her when she's finally trying to make something of herself?"
Ji-hye stalked to the corner of the terrace and lit up an e-cig. The exhaled vapor had color but barely any smell.
"Here you go."
"Three thousand won."
The guy pulled out his phone, fumbling for where to tap. Seoha pointed. "Right here."
After he paid and left, Seoha sank back into her chair and fired up some music on her phone. Pantera's Walk leaked from the single AirPod in her left ear. Not her absolute favorite, but one she spun pretty often.
Just like Suyeon dug 50s-80s blues, Seoha had a soft spot for old-school stuff too—80s-90s metal from its golden age. Unlike Suyeon, who zeroed in on blues, Seoha devoured all metal. But...
Super avant-garde stuff's a bit much for me.
The internet crowd... especially what Hyeona called "the girl who bullies the world," Yoo Seoha. But even she had friends. Ones who shared her music tastes. And ones specialized in shitting on everything.
Someone's like, "Music's trash because of this." Another's like, "Nah, it's garbage for that reason." But my music's good. Stuff normies can't get. Call me trash? I know I'm trash, so I'm better than you.
They used to hang tight. Even as their tastes veered into stuff Seoha couldn't follow, she shrugged it off. But lately, things felt off with them. Especially after forming the band with Suyeon, Hyeona, and Iseo last year. No clue why.
Seoha zoned out to the track for a bit, then switched to their band's first recording: That Day's You. She air-drummed, practicing in her head for groovier beats.
Then her phone buzzed. KakaoTalk notification.
Seoha froze. Saw it? Her playing? A weird flush of embarrassment hit her.
Seoha knew this was just how the girl was. The others too—they dished it out to each other nonstop. "Your music sucks." "Nah, yours sucks more." So this "quit while ahead" was actually pretty tame.
Weird shit. Seoha stared at the ceiling. Was it? Kinda felt not... Old Seoha would've fired back: You quit making crap and go do manual labor. They were tight enough for that, and she knew it wouldn't hurt.
But now? It felt gross. No reason why—just a gut sense she shouldn't.
"...What?"
Seoha blurted it out loud. A customer in the store flinched. She clapped a hand over her mouth and bowed apologetically.
Fury bubbled up—should she snap back? How? Iseo was grinding hard. Beyond hard—blisters on her fingers from bass, writing lyrics in spare time for Suyeon's tunes. Private lessons on her dime, practicing till dawn, skills skyrocketing. Calling that scrub-level?
Seoha, seething, almost sent other performance clips... then stopped. No point—they'd just circle back to "Still can't keep up."
Feeling her blood boil, Seoha texted Iseo instead.
The reply came late. Seoha remembered Iseo joking before: "She only grabs her phone on breaks lol haha."
So not on break then.
Seoha recalled first meeting Iseo—plunking away at bass in the corner of the practice room. Back then, her skills were ankle-biting Suyeon and Hyeona's. Hyeona with piano since kid days, Seoha drumming in church from elementary... still a gap. But barely over a year in? Insane progress.
Yeah. Grinding was baseline. More instrument time than phone time? Obvious too.
Maybe invite the kids to our next gig... Seoha thought, wishing her old crew had this mindset.