The Gaze
OB. Short for Old Boy, the term referred to alumni in Spirit and other clubs. Of course, since Jaejun was still enrolled, calling him an OB was a bit ambiguous, but within Spirit anyone from the main lineup—second-year and above—was classified as an OB.
“King of all nuisances? Hana, that’s a bit harsh.” Jaejun protested with a displeased look.
“What are you doing here?”
“Why else would I come? Do you ask permission every time you go home?”
“This is my house now. Right here.”
Alumni were free to enter the clubroom whenever they liked, but after third year most were busy with job hunting or career prep, so seniors rarely dropped by.
“Haah… They say raising kids brings no reward.” Jaejun’s words weren’t empty; he had actually spent a long time teaching Hana guitar. At Seoeun’s earnest request that he become Hana’s teacher, he had reluctantly agreed. Teaching was the last thing he wanted to do, yet he could never refuse his girlfriend.
“Anyway, if you’re just going to nag Suhyun, please leave.”
“Oh my, how scary. Look, what I was about to say wasn’t even that bad.”
“What were you planning to say?”
“Think about it. Suhyun’s already better than you on guitar. You really think I’d say something unreasonable?”
Aaah… Seriously… His way of talking was infuriating. Hana felt a chill run down her spine at the familiar Jaejun-style logic.
“Fine. Fine, I get it. So just go already.”
“I’m meeting Seoeun here. I’m not leaving.”
“I’ll call Seoeun-unni and have her kick you out.”
Hana actually dialed Seoeun and thrust the phone at Jaejun.
“Here.”
“Wait, you actually called?”
Jaejun could hear Seoeun’s sharp voice through the receiver. He felt wronged. He had only come to say hello—why was he being scolded like this?
Jaejun stared at Hana in disbelief. She looked thoroughly pleased with herself.
“Wow… Yoon Hana. You really…”
“Senior! Thank you for your hard work!”
Having finally succeeded in driving Jaejun out, Hana turned to Suhyun.
“Huu… That damned guy.”
Hana plopped down beside Suhyun and stuck out her lips in a pout.
“But Hana, why do you hate Jaejun-sunbae so much?”
Honestly, from Suhyun’s perspective, it seemed excessive.
“Hey, Lee Suhyun. You’re lucky, you know that? Do you have any idea how much that guy drilled us when we were first-years?”
The days Jaejun came to watch practice were treated like emergencies. Especially for Hana, who played the same instrument, it meant bracing herself to be yelled at like a punching bag. Even the usually fearless Choi Kang would shrink back and yield.
“Really…?”
“Don’t even get me started. Juyeon would end up crying, and some of the guys would threaten to quit because they couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Whoa…”
Maybe last year’s Spirit had been closer to the image of a central club that Suhyun had originally imagined. The current Spirit felt far more warm and friendly than strictly disciplined.
“Still, thanks to that guy we’ve come this far. I can’t deny that.”
Bitter medicine works best. Because of that senior’s Spartan training, Hana and the others had reached their current level. That didn’t mean she thought Jaejun was a good person or that she liked him. His way of speaking was uniquely off-putting. Honestly, she still thought Seoeun was a hundred million times too good for him.
“Ah, forget it. How’s the solo? Manageable? I felt like I told you too late yesterday.”
“Yeah. I practiced.”
“Really? Then want to try it?”
Practicing in front of a senior felt different from playing in front of Hana; the pressure was noticeably lighter. At first Hana had been intimidating too, but the more time they spent together, the more comfortable Suhyun felt around her.
“Got it.”
“Hey, wait. I’ll do the backing, so try matching it.”
Watching Hana casually fetch the cable made Suhyun’s chest swell. Someone was going to accompany his playing. Compared to strumming alone all day, these really were happy times.
“Hey, why’s your face like that?”
After setting up the amp, Hana gave Suhyun a slightly disgusted look. He was grinning like an idiot for no reason.
“It’s just… I’m really happy.”
“About what?”
“Hana, it means a lot that you’re backing me.”
…Is that so? Backing someone during rehearsal was just part of the job, so she didn’t really understand why it would make him that happy. Unless… it was because she was the one doing it? Just because it was her…?
Hana’s thoughts grew complicated. She hid her expression behind her hair like a curtain and gave the signal in a smaller voice.
“I’ll start with the octave line. Ready?”
“Yeah.”
“One, two, three, four.”
Strum strum strum strum strum strum strum strum
Hana’s right hand played steady chords in time with the beat. While she played with ease, Suhyun kept his eyes glued to the fretboard. Newly memorized songs still needed visual help. After hundreds or thousands of repetitions he might play with his eyes closed, but he wasn’t there yet.
Note by note, Suhyun tried to stay as close to the original as possible. His bending was still clumsy, but everything else was solid. He finished the final triplet run cleanly and lifted his head.
“…How was it?”
He hadn’t made any obvious mistakes or sour notes. Hana nodded.
“You do it. Just like that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’ll just play a different song’s solo instead.”
Honestly, she had still wanted the part when she left the house, but she readily handed the solo to Suhyun. Jaejun was right—Suhyun really was the better guitarist. Once he learned proper theory and the techniques he wasn’t yet familiar with, he would probably surpass her in no time.
“Thanks.”
Still, Suhyun was glad that Hana seemed to like his solo. The days when all his solo practice had been ignored were over. He was already looking forward to showing it on stage.
Creak
The practice-room door opened and closed very quietly.
“Oh? Park Juyeon!”
Spotting Juyeon, Hana raised the hand that had been resting on the neck of her guitar in greeting.
“…Hi.”
“What? Why are you here so early?”
Juyeon couldn’t exactly say there was nothing to do at home. That would sound pathetic.
“I thought I’d… practice a bit.”
Juyeon had a habit of slightly lifting the corner of her mouth whenever she lied.
“Huh? Really?”
Hana didn’t notice.
“Yeah.”
“Wow, that’s new.”
Juyeon didn’t usually practice singing much for performances. Most songs she could sing without rehearsal. She didn’t need to strain for high notes or struggle to keep time. She simply sang the way her ears remembered and her throat wanted, and it always came out like fine grains of sand—beautiful and polished. Her quality was so high that it was hard to find a match even among amateurs. She was far beyond the level of self-proclaimed karaoke experts.
“Hmm… Then why don’t you sing for a bit? We already decided on the solo.”
“…Is that okay?”
“Yeah. Suhyun, do you need more practice?”
From what she had just heard, he already seemed good enough, so Hana didn’t think more was necessary.
“No. Juyeon, you sing.”
Practicing with the amp plugged in could wait until the actual rehearsal.
This isn’t how it was supposed to go.
Suddenly asked to sing in front of both of them, Juyeon fumbled for the microphone. It clicked on with a soft sound. She tapped it lightly with her fingertip.
“Ah. Ah.”
Hana and Suhyun set their guitars down and sat on the sofa like an audience, watching Juyeon’s profile.
"Standing Luxury under the moonlight"
"Reaching for the starlight"
The cool, soaring high notes poured out. It was the kind of level that made the idea of her needing practice seem strange. Hana, who always thought Juyeon’s singing was flawless, glanced sideways at Suhyun.
His lips were slightly parted. His eyes were full of longing. It might have been her imagination, but he was looking at Juyeon as if he were gazing at a beloved girlfriend.
And that sight made Hana—
“I’m going to the bathroom.”
Without waiting for an answer, she left the practice room. She reached the stairwell in long strides and gripped the railing tightly.
“What the hell is this?”
She let out a sigh and ran a hand through her hair. Something about herself today felt off.