The club room smelled faintly of dust and old sheet music. Posters of past performances curled at the edges, their colors faded under years of sunlight. A single fan whirred lazily overhead, doing nothing to ease the summer heat.
It was lunch break, and the air was thick with soft chaos—rustling snack wrappers, the faint tap of Haeri's pen against her knee, and Hyun Soo flipping through his neatly labeled notebook like he was organizing a military operation.
Ji Hyun sat on the wide windowsill, one leg tucked beneath him, back against the frame. From here, the sunlight caught on the stray strands of his hair, the cool glass brushing his shoulder. A half-eaten kimbap rested on the edge of his notebook.
"I didn't know half the class could sing," he muttered, scanning the freshly posted audition list.
Hyun Soo leaned in to read. "That guy failed math but keeps a harmonium in his locker."
"Performance miracles," Haeri said, sipping her juice box.
"More like mid-grade desperation."
From the doorway, a voice slid into the room—smooth, amused, and already grating.
"Oof. Look at the jealousy drip."
Ji Yong strolled in, guitar strapped across his chest like it was an extension of himself. Shirt artfully untucked, hair perfectly tousled, smirk sharp enough to cut glass.
Ji Hyun didn't bother turning his head.
"Had a good cry with your mom last night?" Ji Yong asked, all mock innocence, dropping into the chair directly across from the windowsill.
Ji Hyun's jaw flexed. "No. But you might need one after the results come in."
"I don't cry," Ji Yong said lightly. "Bad for my skin."
"You're bad for everyone's peace," Hyun Soo muttered.
"I'm great for motivation," Ji Yong shot back, then tipped his head toward Ji Hyun, eyes glinting. "Right, wife?"
Haeri choked mid-sip.
"Stop calling me that," Ji Hyun snapped.
"But it suits you," Ji Yong said with a faux sweetness. "So fiery. So terrifying. Very married vibes."
"You'll feel something else when I kick your shin."
His grin only deepened.
Before Ji Hyun could follow through, Haeri groaned. "Can you two postpone the divorce until after practice? Let's sort the songs first."
⸻
Once they settled, Hyun Soo stood, notebook in hand like he was hosting a conference.
"Okay, so. There's no rule about duets, so pairs are fair game," he began. "I suggest we split into twos. That way we can highlight both vocals and harmonies."
Ji Yong leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out, arms folded. "Sounds fair. Ji Hyun, duet with me."
"No."
"Why not?" Ji Yong tilted his head, as if genuinely hurt.
"I'm not singing."
"Yet," Ji Yong said, smirk curling. "Come on. We'll look amazing. People will faint."
"No."
"We could do a ballad. Or something cool. Or—"
"Still no."
Ji Yong gave a sigh worthy of a stage play. "You're killing art, Ji Hyun. Our art."
Hyun Soo cut in before the argument could escalate. "You two doing a duet? That'd be a battlefield. No survivors."
Ji Hyun gave him a flat stare.
Hyun Soo shrugged, grinning. "Better if Ji Hyun's with me. We already planned some stuff. Since he's not going full singer mode, I can handle it. So..." He pointed between Ji Yong and Haeri. "You two should duet. You're basically the couple of the school."
Haeri froze. Ji Hyun's head snapped up, glare like a blade.
Hyun Soo, blissfully unaware, crunched another chips and laughed like an idiot.
Ji Yong didn't even flinch at the comment. If anything, he leaned into it—smirk deepening. "Come on, Haeri. Let's give them a preview."
⸻
The first notes from Ji Yong's guitar were warm, rich. Haeri's voice joined in, soft but steady. Ji Yong's gaze lingered—not on her face, but on the rhythm of her singing, on the music.
It didn't matter. Ji Hyun hated it.
He had no reason to, of course. It was just practice. Music. Two teammates working together.
But that didn't stop the knot in his chest or the way his jaw clenched each time Ji Yong smiled at something Haeri sang.
He shifted to the far windowsill, one knee propped up, eyes on the courtyard below. But every time Ji Yong laughed softly, it scraped at his chest. And each time Ji Yong's eyes flicked deliberately toward him mid-song, it felt like being tugged closer without moving an inch.
⸻
Half an hour later, Hyun Soo clapped his hands. "Water break. Ten minutes."
Haeri's phone buzzed. "I need to take this—don't touch my lyrics." She slipped outside.
Ji Hyun stayed at the window, letting the faint breeze graze his cheek as he sipped water.
The floorboards creaked.
Ji Yong's shadow stretched across him before the boy appeared, deliberate in his pace. He rested one hand on the wall beside Ji Hyun, boxing him in without touching.
"You're awfully quiet," Ji Yong murmured.
"I'm working," Ji Hyun said without looking up.
"On what? Avoiding me?" Ji Yong leaned closer, eyes level with his, voice low. "I can carry the vocals. If you're tone-deaf, I'll patch it. Teamwork."
A pen flew at his chest before Ji Hyun even thought about it.
Ji Yong caught it with infuriating ease. "Feisty."
"I'm not singing with you."
"That's fine." Ji Yong's tone softened in a way that was somehow worse. "I'll just keep singing at you until you give in."
Then he sat on the ledge beside him. The space was too narrow; their knees brushed instantly. Ji Hyun shifted, but the contact only grew firmer, Ji Yong's knee pressing deliberately into his.
"You're in my spot."
"I like your spot," Ji Yong said, gaze unwavering. "Good view."
"You mean outside?"
"Not exactly."
The words landed hot. Ji Hyun looked away, jaw tight.
"You really hate sitting this close?" Ji Yong's voice was casual, but his knee didn't move.
"I hate you sitting this close."
"Same thing," Ji Yong murmured. A beat passed. "You're a terrible liar, wife."
Ji Hyun's fingers curled around his notebook.
Footsteps broke the moment. Ji Yong stayed where he was until Hyun Soo appeared with snacks.
"What are you two doing?"
"Teaching him," Ji Yong said smoothly.
Hyun Soo blinked. "Teaching what?"
"Harmony," Ji Yong replied, the word slow, deliberate, and carrying a meaning only Ji Hyun caught.
He slid off the windowsill, brushing past Ji Hyun.
Ji Hyun stayed by the window, pulse still loud in his ears, knees still warm where they'd touched.
⸻