UGH! / SOPE & VMIN.

FOUR, MCDONALDS ROCKSTARS.

MCDONALDS ROCKSTARS.

     JEONGGUK IS, ON a regular basis, 86.5% ( he's very exact ) sure that allowing hoseok to appoint himself leader of fags in leather — soon to be rebranded — was the worst idea he and seokjin's total of three braincells had ever agreed to. this is only further backed up today.

hoseok arrived at the maccy d's down the road five minutes after they had, clutching that fucking notebook full of unfinished songs, their supposed future as a band bound in red leather. with a shit-eating grin on his face, hoseok had slammed the open book down in front of them, both of his bandmates leaning in to read whatever hoseok had written. jeongguk was, foolishly, hoping for a setlist. what he got instead was a supposed "plan for success".

"you're talking out of your arse," seokjin says, after his painted red lips part from what was a substantially long sip of his strawberry mcmilkshake ( trademarked ), propping his chin on the palm of his hand. his mellow southern welsh accent is usually a calm voice of reason, but when addressing hoseok, it's a "get your fucking life together" tone. "i mean, you're right about the fucking band name, that was a mis'ake from the start."

"the "actually practice" point needs to be done on your half, mate," jeongguk does his input, placing a few chips between his lips, grease staining his tongue. "and the writing songs bit — well i would've thought you'd got that sorted, being the songwriter and leader, after all."

"shut up, you fucking leprechaun," hoseok says, making jeongguk roll his eyes. irish jokes. could hoseok not get a bit more original? he's been calling jeongguk a leprechaun for yonks. "you've written songs, 'aven't you jin? and you, guk?"

"i've got some scribbles, yeah," jeongguk shrugs off his denim jacket, finding a small notebook in an inside pocket, which has a few finished songs written down in pink biro ( it was all he had at hand, alright? ). "and there's some killer riffs in there too."

"to think you call guk the narcissist, and you only jus' got your 'ead out of your arse long enough to realise we write too," seokjin muses with a smirk, his lip piercing glinting, the silvery metal matching his eyeshadow. "my notebook's at 'ome, but i'll bring it soon. anyway, setlist, 'seok?"

hoseok rolls his watery coffee eyes, turning the page of the notebook. "here, wanker."

jeongguk scans it over. there's six of their supposed "best" songs ( jeongguk personally thinks they're pretty shit altogether, aside from his drum solos ), and two which he's never heard of. "'seok, what're these?" he points to them, and hoseok looks up from jeongguk's notebook.

"they're demos i've just finished. they're easy, we can learn them quick," hoseok calls over an employee and asks for a portion of chips and two mcburgers, along with a cup of coffee, which seems like a lot but, if jeongguk knows hoseok well ( and he does, as much as he hates to admit it ), the older is probably full of munchies because he smoked copious amounts of weed that morning. no surprise.

"okay, setlist sorted then," seokjin says, finishing off his milkshake. "wha's occurin' with names? are we gonna perform friday as fags, or are we gonna change tha'? 'cause fags in leather is only gonna go down well in places like menswear, trust me."

"jin, not to be rude, but we only got into menswear 'cause it's your place," jeongguk says, shoving more salty chips into his mouth before raking a hand through the mess of electric pink hair on his head. "also, i think infinity stones is a good band name."

"i'm not calling myself some shit from your comics, narcissus," seokjin throws an unopened ketchup packet at jeongguk, leaning back and putting his legs up on the rest of the empty seat, hoseok having sat next to jeongguk. "how about blackjack? y'know, after that song we never preformed but it sounds fuckin' mint."