Echoes of the Alley

11 - Cracks Beneath the Surface

Jisung sat hunched over his notebook in the back corner of the campus café, fingers tapping against his pen in a rhythm that refused to make its way onto the page. The familiar hum of conversations and the soft hiss of the espresso machine usually calmed him, but today, everything felt too loud.

The melody he'd been working on for days swirled aimlessly in his head, and no lyrics felt right to match it. Every line he jotted down felt cliché, every chord progression uninspired. It didn't help that Minho's voice kept looping in his thoughts:
"If you're serious about this, don't waste my time."

What if I am wasting his time?

The weight of that possibility settled like a stone in his chest. The memory of Minho's unrelenting gaze made his palms clammy. He'd been so sure that offering to write a song would bridge the gap between them, but now, with every failed draft, that confidence was crumbling.
Across the table, Seungmin was scrolling through his phone, completely unbothered by Jisung's inner turmoil. Next to him, Jeongin was halfway through demolishing a muffin, blissfully unaware of the war waging in Jisung's head. Felix leaned forward, his piercing gaze fixed on Jisung.

"You're being way too hard on yourself, you know," Felix said, breaking the silence.

Jisung looked up, startled. "What? No, I'm just—"

"—stressed, overthinking, and ready to spiral," Felix finished, a soft smile curving his lips. "It's your default mode."

Jeongin chimed in through a mouthful of muffin, "You'll figure it out. You always do."

"Will I?" Jisung muttered, the question slipping out before he could stop it. He clutched his pen tighter, staring down at the half-filled page.

Seungmin finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. "You've written how many songs? And every single one of them turned out great. Stop psyching yourself out."

Jisung forced a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. His friends' words were meant to reassure him, but they only added to the pressure. What if this was the time he didn't figure it out? What if Minho saw through him and realized he was just some guy who didn't know what he was doing?

Minho's Perspective

Meanwhile, Minho was sprawled on the floor of the dance studio, scrolling through his playlist to find something fresh for practice. Hyunjin sat nearby, stretching his legs while Chan and Changbin chatted about their latest project.

"Jisung's been quiet lately, huh?" Hyunjin said casually, breaking the flow of conversation.

Minho frowned. "Why are you bringing him up?"

Hyunjin shrugged, not bothering to hide his amusement. "Because it's obvious you're waiting for him to deliver this magical song. You're more impatient than usual."

"Am not," Minho shot back, his voice clipped.

Changbin laughed. "You totally are. You keep checking your phone during practice. Admit it—you're curious to see what he comes up with."
"I just don't want him to flake," Minho said defensively. "If he can't handle the pressure, he shouldn't have offered."

Chan tilted his head, watching Minho closely. "Or maybe you're afraid he'll actually come through, and then you'll have to admit you were wrong about him."

Minho opened his mouth to retort but stopped himself. The truth was, he wasn't sure what he wanted from Jisung anymore. There was a part of him that still questioned the songwriter's abilities, but another part—a quieter, more vulnerable part—was hoping Jisung would somehow surprise him.

Later That Evening

Jisung was back in his room, staring blankly at the ceiling. His notebook lay abandoned on his desk, mocking him with its incomplete pages. Anxiety churned in his stomach, a relentless undercurrent that wouldn't let him rest.