Chapter Text
Loud clapping echoed through the auditorium following the conclusion of their rehearsal. Their new manager, Ahn Dan-tae, stood from his seat and ambled over to the stage with a wide smile on his face. “Great work today, SPINE9! With how quickly you’re all improving, I have no doubt you four will be ready for the big stage in no time!”
Soo-tak finally relaxed in his seat, wiping sweat from his brow with a relieved sigh. Manager Ahn was a ruthless critic when it came to music, and he’d made that clear from day one. He rarely doled out praise, and when he did, it meant they had done enough things right to satisfy his almost impossibly high standards.
Jun-hyeong looked particularly pleased with himself, as Manager Ahn had been grilling him over his breath control for nearly every practice session since they signed with MJ Entertainment last month.
“But on that note, we do have something important to discuss about your opening act before you head out for the day,” Manager Ahn said seriously, gesturing for them to gather around him. The four of them exchanged worried glances before hesitantly making their way over. “So, your band’s set list was recently reviewed by Oh Ma-joo himself.”
“Seriously?” Soo-tak blurted out, eyes wide with surprise. Meeting the man the first few times had been shocking enough, but Soo-tak would’ve thought he was too busy to concern himself with the specifics of the support band’s performance.
“He personally manages anything concerning Yoon Dong-jin and his performances, so yes, seriously,” Manager Ahn answered dryly. “Unfortunately, this means bad news for you.”
Soo-tak’s stomach sank at the words, his thoughts immediately racing to the worst possible conclusions. Did Oh Ma-joo decide they weren’t good enough to open for Yoon Dong-jin? Were they being dropped because their set list wasn’t good enough? HIGHER was their biggest hit, but their other songs were good too. They’d worked hard on them, spending days coming up with the right lyrics, guitar riffs, or grooves. All that effort would go down the drain if Oh Ma-joo decided their songs weren’t up to par.
“What’s the bad news?” Eun-gyeol, who had been oddly quiet the whole day, asked warily.
Manager Ahn sighed. “Of the thirteen songs you submitted, five were removed from the set list. This puts you two songs below the required amount needed to keep your forty-five minute opening slot, which means your opening act will be cut down to twenty minutes, or five songs, and another band will have the chance to fill the next twenty minute slot of the opening act.”
Soo-tak was going to be sick.
The silence that followed Manager Ahn’s words was deafening. Jun-hyeong’s face went paper white, and it was clear he was taking the news the hardest as the main lyricist. Ji-oh looked equally crestfallen, his head bowed forward to hide his face and his shoulders slumped in defeat. Eun-gyeol seemed to be taking the news the best, his face a mask of stoic determination.
“I know this must be disappointing for you boys, but this is still good for you. It’ll get you a lot of the exposure you need to release an album, even if you don’t perform the entire opening sequence on your own. It’s rare that new bands like yours are even offered the opportunity.” Seeing the dejected looks on their faces remained unchanged, Manager Ahn softened his tone. “Don’t be too hard on yourselves. I don’t say it much, but you four are—”
“What if we meet the required amount before we go on tour?” Eun-gyeol interrupted. He didn’t falter when their confused gazes fell on him, his eyes blazing with fiery determination. “If we write two songs before the tour, can we keep the opening slot to ourselves?”
Soo-tak’s gaze snapped back towards Manager Ahn, hope bubbling in his chest despite the cynical voice in his head that warned him to be realistic.
Manager Ahn seemed taken aback by the question and the intense looks in their eyes. “Well…,” he began uncertainly, scratching the back of his neck. “I could probably get away with pushing the set list deadline back two weeks, but that’s about all the time I can give. That leaves you about three weeks to come up with two songs. Do you think you can write something that will satisfy the director in that time frame?”
The band’s eyes shifted to Jun-hyeong and the expectant looks on their faces quickly stirred him into action. “We’ll do our very best, sir! Thank you so much for this opportunity!” he practically shouted, his hand raised in a mock salute.
“That’s the sort of attitude I like to see. Keep it up,” Manager Ahn smiled, patting Jun-hyeong’s back encouragingly. “Oh, and Ha Eun-gyeol?”
The teen straightened, startled at being personally addressed. “Yes, sir?”
“You’ve got the chops to make it as an idol. So don’t make it a habit to run off stage mid-performance.”
Eun-gyeol’s face instantly flushed crimson and Soo-tak couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, ignoring the teen’s stuttered attempts at defending himself. Jun-hyeong and Ji-oh were quick to take the opportunity to tease him, their ribbing only serving to make him more flustered.
It hadn’t been difficult to figure out why he’d ditched them that night when he came back completely dishevelled, his make-up smudged and his hair a mess from whatever makeout session he’d returned from. They had been upset about it at the time, but that anger quickly gave way to a curiosity that Eun-gyeol refused to engage with, leaving them with next to no information about his new girlfriend.
Asking Eun-ho about it had been a no-go as well, much to Ji-oh’s disappointment.
Speaking of Eun-ho, Soo-tak couldn’t help but remember the text he’d received the other night as he watched Eun-gyeol. It was rare that Eun-ho chose to reach out to him or Jun-hyeong, as he was much closer to Ji-oh. The two were cut from the same cloth and had become fast friends in the few months since their first meeting.
So it had been a bit of a surprise when Eun-ho texted him out of the blue and asked him to keep an eye on their youngest member. He’d been oddly vague about the whole thing, only telling Soo-tak to watch Eun-gyeol and report to him if he noticed anything odd.
What Soo-tak couldn’t figure out was what exactly Eun-ho was worried about. Eun-gyeol seemed completely fine aside from being a little more absent-minded than usual. He was usually like this during this time of year, too busy balancing studying for his exams and being in a band to ever fully focus on the moment.
“Let’s go out to celebrate tonight,” Ji-oh proposed once Manager Ahn had gone, eyes bright with excitement.
Soo-tak scoffed. “Celebrate what, temporarily keeping our slot? In case you forgot, we have to come up with two songs that will satisfy Oh Ma-joo in the span of three weeks. We should be working, not celebrating.”
“Don’t be such a wet blanket, hyung. Manager Ahn praised us today! That’s something to celebrate, isn’t it, Eun-gyeol?” Ji-oh argued, throwing an arm around Eun-gyeol’s shoulder in search of support.
Eun-gyeol smiled sheepishly as he pushed Ji-oh’s arm off. “Sorry, I’m with hyung. We should get started immediately.”
Clearly outnumbered, Ji-oh finally turned to Jun-hyeong for help, his eyes wide and pleading. The older man rolled his eyes, shoving Ji-oh’s hopeful face away from his own. “Keep your lame kicked puppy look for the fans, it won’t work on me. I agree with them.”
“I guess you guys are right,” Ji-oh sighed in defeat. “We got to keep our slot thanks to our lucky charm over here, so we should work hard.” He reached out to poke Eun-gyeol’s cheek as he spoke, but the kid jerked out of the way and rushed off to the change room before any of them could react, leaving them bewildered and a bit alarmed.
“Has he been acting weird recently, or is it just me?” Jun-hyeong finally asked, eyebrows wrinkled into a worried frown.
“It’s not just you,” Ji-oh disagreed. “He’s been acting weird since the launch, and I don’t think it's because of his new girlfriend.”
Soo-tak blinked, feeling a little lost. Had everyone noticed something was off aside from him? “What do you mean?”
“He’s just been really jumpy recently. He keeps brushing me off or moving out of the way whenever I try to touch him,” Ji-oh explained. “Eun-ho’s been really worried about him too.”
Soo-tak tilted his head. “He texted you guys too?”
Both Jun-hyeong and Ji-oh nodded.
Okay, so this was more serious than Soo-tak first thought. He’d assumed Eun-ho was just being a tad overprotective, but if he’d texted all three of them and asked them to keep an eye on Eun-gyeol, then something was seriously wrong.
Could it be…?
“... Do you guys think Park Hyeon-chul is bothering him again?” Ji-oh said hesitantly, giving voice to Soo-tak’s own fears. He shrank back when Soo-tak bristled, his eyes blazing as he scowled at Ji-oh.
“There’s no way that bastard would ever come within three feet of Eun-gyeol,” he growled, old anger bubbling beneath his skin at the thought of their band’s former lead guitarist. “I made sure of it.”
“But–”
“But nothing!” Soo-tak barked, cutting Ji-oh off before he could even start. “That asshole is probably too busy living it up with his new band to spare us a thought.”
“That’s enough,” Jun-hyeong snapped, pressing a hand to Soo-tak’s chest and shoving him back a few paces. “Quit biting our heads off every time we mention him, Soo-tak. I get that you’re taking this harder because Hyeon-chul was your best friend, but he was our friend too. What he did was fucked up, and Ji-oh has every right to be worried. Got it?”
“Best friend, my foot,” Soo-tak muttered, clenching his jaw as he glared at the ground in frustration.
“Soo-tak.”
“... I got it. Quit nagging.”
The mention of Hyeon-chul and Soo-tak’s temper had effectively killed the mood, so the three of them headed to the change room in a tense silence. Soo-tak trailed behind the other two, heart heavy with old memories and the familiar sting of betrayal that always returned at the mention of Hyeon-chul.
Had he really started messing with Eun-gyeol again? After everything that had happened?
Soo-tak hated that he could see it.
As the change room door creaked open, Jun-hyeong suddenly stopped in his tracks. Soo-tak stumbled into his back but recovered quickly, opening his mouth to ask what the hell he was doing, only to stop at the look on his face. It was a weird mix of shock, worry and anger, and when Soo-tak followed his gaze, he could see exactly what caused it.
Eun-gyeol stood in the middle of the change room like a deer in the headlights, staring back at them with wide eyes. He was still shirtless, exposing the large, colourful bruises that stained his back and sides and the smaller ones littered across his arms and abdomen. They weren’t new either, judging by the faint patches of yellow and brown around their edges.
“What the fuck.” Soo-tak swore, nudging past Jun-hyeong and looking him over with a worried frown. “Are you okay? What the hell happened to you?”
Eun-gyeol waved his hands nervously, looking rather frazzled as he tried to reassure them. “I’m totally fine, hyung. I just got in a little accident — it barely hurts!”
“That looks really bad, Eun-gyeol,” Ji-oh said softly, striding over to examine the worst of the bruises. “Why didn’t you say anything during practice?”
Eun-gyeol shifted, clearly uncomfortable with their scrutiny. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. We can’t afford to waste time with the tour approaching and nothing was broken, so I figured it was fine.”
“You still should’ve mentioned it,” Jun-hyeong scolded, fixing the teen with a stern glare. “You could’ve aggravated the injury and actually broken something. That doesn’t help you or our prospects for the tour, man.”
“I didn’t think about that,” Eun-gyeol admitted sheepishly. “But I really am fine. It looks way worse than it feels.”
Soo-tak, who’d been silent aside from his initial outburst, finally spoke up. “You said you got into an accident. What do you mean? Did you get hit by a car or something?”
An inexplicable expression flickered across Eun-gyeol’s face at his question, with a look in his eyes that Soo-tak could only describe as guilt. “… I fell down the stairs at school,” was all he said, not meeting Soo-tak’s gaze before turning back to his locker and pulling a clean sweater over his head.
Yeah, Soo-tak didn’t believe that for a second, and a quick glance at Ji-oh and Jun-hyeong showed that they were similarly unconvinced.
A part of Soo-tak told him to mind his business because, despite all the time they’d spent together as a band, Eun-gyeol remained a remarkably private person. Another, much larger, part reminded him that choosing to mind his own business had resulted in his turning a blind eye to Hyeon-chul’s increasing hostility towards Eun-gyeol back then. The nagging worry that Hyeon-chul might have come back to torment Eun-gyeol again after hearing about their recent success also weighed on his mind, leaving Soo-tak conflicted and unsure of how to proceed.
Jun-hyeong, who had been watching Eun-gyeol with an evaluating look on his face, took the decision out of Soo-tak’s hands before he could make up his mind. “Hey. Is Hyeon-chul harassing you again?”
“Who’s Hyeon-chul?” Eun-gyeol asked distractedly, brushing his hands through his fringe in an attempt at taming his cowlicks. It took him a moment to realize something was off, glancing back at them when his question was met with stunned silence. “What? Why are you guys looking at me like that?”
Soo-tak laughed in disbelief. “Are you seriously joking around right now, or did you actually hit your head? What do you mean, ‘who’s Hyeon-chul?’” he demanded.
“Am I… supposed to know who that is?” Eun-gyeol said slowly, the puzzled expression on his face melting into one of panic as he looked between them and realized that they weren’t messing with him.
Was Soo-tak being punked, or was there genuinely something wrong with this kid’s memory? Because he was beginning to see why Eun-ho was so worried about him.
“Park Hyeon-chul was our former lead guitarist, Eun-gyeol. He’s the one who recruited you to our band last year,” Ji-oh explained with a calm Soo-tak didn’t feel, his frown deepening as he scanned Eun-gyeol’s face for any hint of recognition. “If this is a joke, it isn’t a funny one.”
It didn’t seem like a joke, and Eun-gyeol had never been the type to make jokes like that. The mere mention of Hyeon-chul was typically enough to make him uncomfortable, so it had become something of a forbidden topic in the few months since Hyeon-chul had ditched them after bullying Eun-gyeol to the point where he had nearly quit the band and music altogether.
“You’re right, sorry. That was in poor taste,” Eun-gyeol apologized with a nervous laugh. “I was just trying to lighten the mood. No one’s harassing me, I really did just fall down the stairs.”
The silence stretched for a few awkward seconds before Jun-hyeong sighed. “If you say so, kid.”
The three of them changed out of their practice clothes while Eun-gyeol waited in the corner, anxiously fidgeting with his keys. It was decided that they would spend the rest of the evening working on the songs at Ji-oh’s house since his older brother was out of town for a business trip and there was no one else at home for them to disturb.
The tension slowly dissipated as they left the building, chatting about song ideas while waiting for the taxi Ji-oh had ordered. The night was much colder than any of them had anticipated, so they huddled against each other for warmth while they waited. Ji-oh was practically clinging to Jun-hyeong (who always ran much hotter than they did) and ignoring the older man's complaints as he basked in the warmth. Despite being mashed between them and Eun-gyeol, Soo-tak couldn't help but shiver at every cool breeze, cursing himself for leaving his jacket at home.
He glanced at Eun-gyeol, who was preoccupied with his phone, intently focused on something Soo-tak couldn't see through the privacy screen. He craned his neck a bit, stealthily peeking over the kid's shoulder, and frowned when he found him frantically scrolling through their band's Instagram page as if he was looking for something.
Or perhaps, Soo-tak realized, it was someone.
The taxi finally pulled up after a few minutes and Ji-oh and Jun-hyeong climbed in without an issue. Eun-gyeol made to follow them but hesitated at the door, likely annoyed at being forced to sit in the middle again.
Soo-tak snagged his collar and yanked him out of the way, earning a startled yelp from the teen. He leaned forward, looking into the car to talk to the other two. “Hey, you guys go ahead. Me and this one” —he nodded over at Eun-gyeol, who was struggling against his grip— “have something to talk about. We’ll catch up to you guys in a bit.”
Jun-hyeong shot him a flat look from the front seat, clearly at his wits’ end with them. “Fine. Just make sure you’re there in an hour, or I’ll skin you both alive.”
“Gotcha.”
The taxi sped off as soon as Soo-tak slammed the door shut. He released Eun-gyeol, and the kid stumbled forward, nearly face-planting as he fought to regain his balance. For such an athletic person, he was oddly clumsy at times.
“What was that for?” Eun-gyeol grumbled, irritation written all over his face as he straightened his collar.
Soo-tak shrugged unrepentantly. “We needed to talk.”
Eun-gyeol raised an eyebrow. “About what?”
About all your weird behaviour. About why you lied to us. About what really happened to you. About—
“Eun-gyeol,” Soo-tak began, an odd calm washing over him as he spoke, his eyes piercing into Eun-gyeol’s own. “Why don’t you remember who Hyeon-chul is?”