EUNJAE-HYUN
The backstage hallway smells like fog machines and dust.
I run my fingers over my in-ear monitor, heart pacing double time.
Tonight's venue is bigger than anything we've faced. Rows of seats curve upward like a coliseum. Lights blaze across the floor. Screens loom with our faces frozen mid-song from rehearsals.
Min-woo catches me pacing.
"Hey," he says, gripping my wrist gently. "Breathe."
I do. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Just like we practiced.
But it's not the stage that scares me.
It's who's in the audience.
Scouts. Critics. Former classmates. My parents.
Yes—my parents.
They came.
KANG MIN-WOO
I didn't know they were coming until Jae-hyun told me an hour before soundcheck.
"They're sitting in the second row," he muttered, voice shaky. "Front and center."
I wanted to pull him into a hug, but we were in full makeup and stylists circled like vultures.
I settled for brushing his hand as we left the green room.
"They'll be proud," I said.
But he didn't answer.
Now, we stand in the wings. The announcer's voice booms across the hall: "And next up, representing Seoul National—FULL VOLUME!"
The crowd erupts. We walk on.
Jae-hyun glances sideways at me. His jaw is tight.
I nod once.
We take our places.
And then we play.
EUN JAE-HYUN
The first song is "Echo Line."
It's upbeat. Safe. A crowd-pleaser with a catchy chorus and synchronized head nods. We've played it a hundred times.
But tonight, it feels like my throat is coated in ash. I force every word out like I'm lifting weights.
The stage lights blur a little.
I search the crowd without meaning to.
There they are. My parents. My father, stone-faced. My mother with a tight smile.
But their eyes are on me.
Still watching.
Still listening.
KANG MIN-WOO
We move into the second track: "Wavelength."
This one's newer. More us. Halfway through, I glance over—and I see it.
Jae-hyun's hand starts to shake as he adjusts the mic.
I step in beside him during the bridge. Our shoulders bump. He doesn't flinch.
I sing with him, louder than usual, hoping my voice grounds him.
By the final chorus, his eyes are open again.
Focused. Bright.
He's back.
EUN JAE-HYUN
When the final note rings out, applause crashes into us like a wave.
My chest rises and falls with every breath I fought to steady.
We bow.
We leave the stage.
And once we're backstage, I don't wait.
I push through the tech crew, through dancers and singers from other groups, down the corridor that leads to the lobby.
My parents are still in their seats.
They see me approaching.
My father stands first.
I freeze.
He doesn't speak. Doesn't smile.
Then—slowly—he nods.
Just once.
My mother's eyes are glassy.
She mouths something.
I think it's: "You looked happy."
KANG MIN-WOO
When Jae-hyun comes back, he's not smiling. Not quite.
But he walks straighter. His eyes are clearer.
"You okay?" I ask.
He nods. "They're not angry."
"That's a start."
He takes my hand in front of everyone.
And for the first time since the festival, I think he doesn't care who sees.
EUN JAE-HYUN
Later that night, we're announced as one of the top three bands.
The auditorium shakes with cheers.
I don't remember what the judges said. I don't remember the trophy.
I remember Min-woo's hand in mine as they took the photo.
I remember his voice in my ear: "You did it."
And I remember thinking—No. We did.
KANG MIN-WOO
We don't go to the afterparty. We take a cab to our favorite spot instead—a 24-hour tteokbokki stand by the river.
No fans. No press. Just spicy food and cool air.
"I think," I say, "we should record 'Wavelength' for real."
Jae-hyun raises a brow. "In a studio?"
I nod. "And make a music video. Something simple. Just us. No big concepts."
He looks out at the water.
"Would that make us official?"
I grin. "I thought the kiss on stage already did that."
He nudges me with his knee. "You're really annoying sometimes."
"I know. But you love me anyway."
He doesn't deny it.
EUN JAE-HYUN
When I lie in bed that night, the world still spinning from the noise of the day, I play our demo again.
It's rough. Raw. A little off-tempo.
But it's ours.
And like every sound that lingers after the beat drops—
It means something.