EUN JAE-HYUNG
The world moved in slow motion after the showcase. The theater cleared out, leaving only echoes. Applause still rang in my ears, but I barely registered any of it. All I could see was Min-woo—still on crutches, still in pain, but smiling like I had never seen before.
He kissed me back.
Not tentatively, not out of confusion.
With purpose.
Suddenly, the months of tension, the lingering glances, the songs half-written about someone I couldn't name—it all made sense. We had spent so long circling the truth. Now we stood right in the center of it.
"I didn't think you'd show," I whispered as we sat together backstage, tucked in the corner with his crutches resting beside him.
"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," Min-woo said. "You killed it. I mean—god, Jae-hyung—you were magnetic."
I laughed, cheeks burning. "You're biased."
"I am. But I'm also right."
He reached for my hand again. This time, I didn't flinch.
"I should've said it sooner," he said. "I like you. A lot. Always have."
I looked at him, stunned by the calm in his voice. How easy he made it sound. How hard it had been for me to admit the same.
"I was scared," I said. "Still am."
His thumb brushed against my knuckles. "Yeah. Me too. But I think… sometimes you have to be louder than the fear."
We sat there in the quiet that followed. Not uncomfortable, not awkward. Just breathing.
Together.
---
JIHO
"I KNEW IT!"
I practically launched myself at both of them when I found them post-show, catching them mid-hand-hold.
"You two! Kissing! Right there in front of the spotlight like it was a K-drama finale!"
Min-woo groaned. "Jiho—"
"Nope. Don't even try to downplay it. I'm planning your wedding. I'm choosing your color palette."
Jae-hyung laughed so hard he nearly doubled over.
"You guys deserve this," Hana added quietly, smiling with that warm, rare softness she only showed when she really meant something. "After everything."
"It's not the end though," Jiho said, glancing at us all. "We're not done, right?"
I looked at Min-woo. He nodded.
"No," I said. "We're just getting started."
---
KANG MIN-WOO
Rehab was hell.
The cast came off after six weeks, and what followed was hours of physiotherapy, walking drills, even re-learning how to press pedals. My guitar gathered dust in the corner until one day, my fingers ached less and my confidence returned enough to lift it again.
The strings felt foreign. My leg still twinged when I stood too long. But when Jae-hyung sat across from me, playing the melody to our first song—the one we wrote before we even named the band—I felt everything snap back into place.
Not like before.
Stronger.
More certain.
There were quiet nights between the milestones. Nights when I'd wake up from a phantom pain in my leg and find Jae-hyung curled up beside me on the couch, one arm hanging off the edge like he hadn't meant to fall asleep there. I'd watch the slow rise and fall of his chest, letting the comfort of his presence anchor me.
He never made me feel weak. Not once. Even when I felt broken.
"Play me something," he said one night, sitting cross-legged on the rug with his notebook.
I picked up my guitar and strummed a chord. Then another. His eyes closed as he listened, and for a moment, we weren't recovering or waiting.
We were just making music.
---
EUN JAE-HYUNG
We didn't win the showcase.
A jazz fusion quartet took first place. Deserved it, too—they were insanely good.
But Full Volume was offered a spot in the university's music spotlight tour.
Four cities. One van. Hundreds of potential new fans.
We said yes before the email even finished loading.
The night before our first out-of-town gig, I lay on Min-woo's bed, scrolling through photos on my phone. Candids of us rehearsing, Jiho mid-laugh, Hana rolling her eyes.
He walked out of the bathroom, hair damp, shirt half-buttoned, and caught me grinning.
"What?" he asked, dropping beside me.
"Nothing. Just…" I turned the screen to show him a photo: the two of us mid-chorus, laughing like idiots. "I like this version of us."
He looked at the screen. Then at me.
"I like every version of us," he said.
We were quiet again, but it wasn't silence. It was peace.
I leaned into him, letting my head rest against his shoulder.
"I've got a feeling this tour is going to change everything," I murmured.
Min-woo nodded. "Maybe. But as long as you're beside me, I'm good with whatever it brings."
We stayed like that until we both dozed off, our fingers laced, the city lights painting stripes across the floor.
Tomorrow, the van would roll out.
Tomorrow, the world would hear our music.
And maybe—just maybe—they'd hear the love behind it too.