Echoes of the Alley

9 - Unspoken Rhythms

Jisung sat cross-legged on his bedroom floor, his guitar perched on his knee and a notebook sprawled open in front of him. The pages were a mess of crossed-out lyrics, fragmented lines, and scribbled notes, each one a testament to his restless thoughts.

He strummed a chord experimentally, the sound warm but hollow, as if it knew he hadn't quite figured out what it wanted to be.

"Come on," he muttered under his breath, staring at the unfinished song. "You're supposed to mean something."

The interaction with Minho earlier replayed in his mind for the hundredth time, and his stomach churned. He'd never put himself out there like that before, and now, the weight of his promise was pressing down on him.

One chance.

The words felt like both a lifeline and a curse. If he blew it, that would be the end—not just of whatever fragile connection he was building with Minho, but maybe of his confidence to keep trying.

He let out a long sigh and plucked at the strings again, searching for something—anything—that felt right.

A Different Perspective

Across the city, Minho lounged on his couch, absently scrolling through his phone. Hyunjin was sprawled out on the rug, flipping through a magazine and munching on a bag of chips.

"You're sulking," Hyunjin remarked without looking up, his tone light but teasing.

Minho didn't bother denying it. "I'm not sulking. I'm thinking."

"About Jisung, I'm guessing?" Hyunjin said, dragging out the name with an exaggerated lilt. He raised his eyebrows when Minho shot him a sharp glare.

"I'm not thinking about him," Minho retorted, tossing his phone onto the coffee table.

"Sure," Hyunjin said, smirking as he popped another chip into his mouth. "Not thinking about the guy who keeps showing up at the studio and somehow convinced you to let him write you a song. Nope, not on your mind at all."

Minho sighed, rubbing his temples. "Why do you know so much about him anyway?"

Hyunjin grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "I have my sources. Felix told me. Apparently, Jisung's been talking about this project of his nonstop. And honestly? I think it's cute."

"Cute?" Minho's tone was incredulous, his glare deepening.

"Yeah," Hyunjin said breezily. "I mean, come on. He's putting himself out there, trying to impress you of all people. That takes guts."

Minho rolled his eyes. "It's not about me. He just wants to prove something to himself."

"And that bothers you why?" Hyunjin asked, cocking his head.

"It doesn't bother me," Minho replied quickly, a little too quickly. He looked away, frowning. "I just don't get it. He's all over the place—nervous, awkward, barely knows what he's doing. And yet..."

"And yet you gave him a chance," Hyunjin finished for him, sitting up with a triumphant look. "Which, for the record, is totally unlike you. Admit it—he's gotten under your skin."

Minho groaned, leaning back against the couch. "He's just... different," he muttered, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Hyunjin's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Different how? Is it his determination? His charm? Or maybe that puppy-dog look he gives you when he's trying to win you over?"

"Shut up," Minho grumbled, but the faintest hint of a blush crept up his neck.

Hyunjin laughed, tossing a pillow at him. "Relax, Minho. I'm just saying—it wouldn't kill you to let him in a little. Who knows? He might surprise you."