back 2 u. the boyz

1. dream in the making

⠀⠀"Interested in joining a band? You can perform at—"

⠀⠀"Not interested."

⠀⠀"By any chance, do you want to join a band—"

⠀⠀"No thanks."

⠀⠀"Would you like to join a band I'm forming—"

⠀⠀"No."

⠀⠀Kevin heaved a deep sigh as he watched another person shuffle away from him down the hallway. He looked down at his clipboard laying on top of his books and binders—at the top in fancy calligraphy, Potential Band Members—and found no names. It's been like this for thirteen days, Kevin internally grumbled, hiking up his backpack before beginning to drag himself to the lunchroom.

⠀⠀For as long as he could remember, Kevin loved to perform. Singing, dancing, playing instruments—he loved it all. There was something about picking up the guitar and sitting on his piano bench, or standing on the stage to dance or belting out his favorite songs that brought him happiness like no other thing did. He had done musicals, taken vocal classes, participated in recitals, and performed in the choir of his church for several years among other things. He could hardly begin to explain his love for performing.

⠀⠀When he had transferred to his new high school in Seoul at the beginning of the year, fresh from Canada, he had hoped for some sort of program where he could pursue such interests. Alas, he came up empty-handed and was forced to ask to form such a club or program, and only the other week or so, his idea had been approved by the school staff. However, there was a condition: he had to find another person to join him in two weeks, or his currently-nonexistent band would be terminated and he would have to wait until the following year to begin recruitments again.

⠀⠀A group of rather muscled and large guys charged by him, one knocking all of his things from his arms and sending him to the floor. The guy absentmindedly called out, "My bad!" over his shoulder before he disappeared around the corner with his friend group. Kevin blew his black fringe out of his face, irritated.

⠀⠀This fucking blows.

⠀⠀He shrugged his backpack off, then picked himself off of the floor and began to gather all of the papers that had fallen from his binder's hold, silently moping the entire time. "Stupid jocks," he mumbled underneath his breath, "stupid people not wanting to join my band. Their loss, not mine." Kevin sighed as he crammed some more papers behind the front cover. His band was doomed before it even started. He looked at a drawing he had stuffed into the plastic cover of the binder, the picture depicting him playing keyboard and singing while an empty drum set and guitar sat in the background. Running a thumb over the drawing, Kevin ran a hand through his hair and began to chew on his bottom lip. Should he just give up now?

⠀⠀A person suddenly crouched down next to him and began to grab the rest of the papers that had been knocked from his binder. Quickly handing them to Kevin, the person stood up and began to walk away. Hastily, Kevin also shot up onto his feet and called out to the retreating mysterious person, "Hey! Thank you so much for the help!"

⠀⠀The guy turned around and smiled sweetly. "Yeah, no problem," he said before turning a corner and disappearing. Kevin blinked in confusion. He hadn't looked at the face of the helper for more than a few seconds, but it looked strangely like Ja—

⠀⠀Kevin suddenly stopped the thought in its tracks, hitting himself in the head with the flat of his hand and wincing from the pain. There was absolutely no way that the guy had been who Kevin thought he saw. To end up at the same school after being separated the way they did was too much of a coincidence, if not impossible. Kevin gazed in the direction the mysterious guy had went, then shook his head as he bent down to gather his bags and books.