Demian's kitchen was lit only by the warm light above the counter. Three figures sat around the bar table, eyes locked on Demian's phone placed dead center like it was some kind of ticking bomb.
"Why are you all so tensed..." Demian said as his sat down with his cold drink.
The phone vibrated.
All three of them leaned forward at the same time.
The screen lit up.
"why would I block u haha" — Serin
"Oh my god." A long sigh escaped Minho as he finally leaned back.
Revi slumped against his stool. "We survived."
"Barely," Jace muttered softly.
Demian didn't say anything. He looked up at the screen for half a second longer, then let his forehead drop onto the table with a dull thud.
"…Now can you guys leave my house?" His voice came out muffled, flat, exhausted. "How did you even get in without knowing my passcode?"
Minho snorted and patted his shoulder. "Come on, man. After you told us how you convinced her, we all thought she was gonna block your ass."
Demian lifted his head slowly, one eye still closed. He raised a lazy brow, clearly fighting sleep. "She probably would've," he said. "But I pulled the 'you owe me' guilt card. So we are safe now."
He glanced at the phone again, then let out a quiet laugh through his nose.
"…For now, I guess haha."
Jace straightened immediately. "For now?" He clicked his tongue, clearly irritated. "What's that supposed to mean? Are we seriously gonna bribe her with cake every day? We are not as rich as you buddy."
Demian dropped his head back onto the table, one arm hanging off the edge. "Yeah," he muttered, voice lazy. "Probably."
Minho nudged his shoulder again. "You are treating her like a baby."
"Am not," Demian replied without lifting his head.
Revi let out a short laugh, pushing himself upright on the stool. "Dude, to him she is basically a baby."
Demian cracked one eye open as turned to Revi. "What?"
"She's nine months younger than you," Revi said, shrugging. "That's practically a lifetime in your head."
"Mm," Demian hummed vaguely, already half gone.
"Wait—nine months?" Minho's brows shot up. "Oh. She's a December baby then?"
Revi nodded proudly. "Exactly. Information straight from Demian himself."
Jace pushed his chair back and stood. "Huh… now that I think about it," He glanced at Demian. "Your birthday's literally the day after the festival, isn't it?"
Demian finally lifted his head a little, resting his cheek against his forearm. "Yeah."
Jace's lips curled into a grin. "Then that settles it. We'll celebrate your birthday on festival night."
Minho was already walking toward the hallway. "Two birds, one night."
Revi followed as they all headed for the game room. Their voices faded as they moved farther away, still talking over each other.
Demian straightened at last, expression flat. "I literally just asked you guys to get out."
No one answered.
He glanced down at his phone. The screen had gone dark. He reached out to pick it up—then stopped.
"…Forget it."
With a quiet sigh, he pushed himself up and followed them down the hall.
7 in the morning.
Serin stood in front of her school. The campus was already buzzing. Students rushing around, banners being carried across the grounds.
"Wah… they're really going all out for the festival," she muttered, eyes roaming over everyone.
She adjusted her bag strap and headed inside, making her way toward her department. The Performer Assistance Department.
At Demian's house, sunlight slipped through the curtains, landing straight on his face. His eyes fluttered open.
"Ugh… what time is it…?" he mumbled, shifting without thinking and immediately knocked one of Minho's legs off his chest.
Minho groaned as he rolled onto the floor.
"Lord," Demian muttered, pushing himself up on his elbows. "Crazy fuckers… why is he sleeping on me?"
He squinted, rubbing his eyes as he shoved Minho away with his foot. Standing up was a struggle. The room spun slightly as he dragged himself upright.
Demian stumbled toward the window and yanked the curtains open.
Bright light flooded the room. He froze.
Chip bags were all over the floor. Controllers lay everywhere like they'd been through a battle. Empty coffee cups crowded the table, and the room smelled faintly of coffee.
"…And they promised they'd keep it clean," he said flatly.
Scratching the back of his neck, Demian turned around and looked at the three of them sprawled across the room. Without hesitation, he nudged them all with his foot.
"Wake up," he muttered, kicking them again. "You animals slept like royalty in my house."
Only few groans answered him.
A phone vibrated suddenly on the couch.
Demian glanced over. "Huh?" He walked forward, picking it up and sitting back against the cushions. "When did I even bring my phone in here?"
"You said you missed someone in your sleep and needed your phone, so I brought it to you," Revi mumbled, half-asleep, stretching as he kicked Jace off the other couch before curling up on it and drifting back to sleep.
Demian watched him silently, then turned his attention to the phone. "Tch."
A new notification popped up,
Serin sent you a photo.
Another wave of messages followed,
"Plans changed. The performance will be held in the auditorium."
"So it'll be even harder to get the keys since the auditorium is huge."
"And I'll guard all four of you all night because, of course, I don't trust you."
Demian read them through the notifications. He leaned back, stretching his neck and letting out a long sigh. "Who told you to buzz me with all this first thing in the morning..."
He stared at the screen for a moment, then got up, tossing the phone lightly onto the couch. "I'll just skip school today..."
Revi let out a small, sleepy laugh, rolling onto his side. "You're so cute when you pretend you don't like it~"
"Why would I like it when she texts me like that? I never even thought of her as a friend," Demian snapped back.
No response. Revi was clearly lost in some other dream, mumbling and tugging the blanket closer around him.
"Crazy bastard…" Demian muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he walked toward the bathroom to take a shower.
After a while, steam fogged the mirror as Demian stepped out of the shower. He had only his pants on, water trailing down his chest and along his arms as he roughly dried his hair with a towel. Droplets fell onto the floor as he walked back into the room.
"What a gross thing to see first thing in the morning," Minho groaned, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself while peeking through half-lidded eyes.
Before Demian could retort, Minho suddenly lifted his phone.
Click.
Demian froze. "Did you just—"
"Ohooo," Minho grinned, already tapping his screen. "Now this will be my daily early-morning wake-up call." He held up his phone proudly, Demian's half-damp, unimpressed figure now glaring back as his wallpaper.
"Delete it," Demian said flatly.
"Never."
By then, all three of them were awake. Revi was on his feet, with a trash bag as he kicked empty chip packets in it. Jace stood by the coffee machine, leaning against the wall waiting patiently with a mug in hand.
"Oh, thanks, Revi," Demian snorted. "For being the only grateful one here." he threw the cold, wet towel straight at Minho.
"AH—!" Minho flinched as it slapped against his shoulder. He immediately grabbed it and flung it back. "Are you insane?!"
Demian dodged and lunged forward. "Say that again."
"Princess duty," Revi said casually, straightening up with the trash bag slung over his shoulder. "You're picking her up. Twelve a.m. is too late for her to walk to school alone."
Demian froze. One hand still gripping Minho's shirt as he shot Revi an annoyed look, one eye squinting.
"Do I really have to?" He sighed heavily before finally letting Minho go.
"Yes," Minho said instantly, jumping on him again. "How long do you think she'll put up with your attitude?" They crashed onto the floor arguing and shoving like children.
Jace took his coffee and calmly moved to the couch, watching them over his cup. "How do they have this much energy this early in the morning," he took one slow sip as he sat down exhausted.
Ten minutes before midnight.
Serin glanced at the clock and let out a quiet gasp. "Ayshhh—I'm so late!"
She quickly patted down her outfit, then fixed her hair with her fingers before tiptoeing toward the gate.
She wore a shoujo manga–girl, Y2K Japanese vintage–style outfit. The soft blue square-neck top clung to her frame just right, its small buttons catching faint bits of light. The short sleeves were trimmed with delicate lace, adding a gentle softness. Beneath it, a white V-neck inner peeked out, lace edging the neckline delicately. The buttons on the inner tugged the fabric slightly around her chest, forming a subtle bow-like shape. A dark blue tube top showed just enough beneath the white layer.
Her dark blue layered mini skirt fluttered with every hurried step. Thin, layered necklaces rested against her collarbone, shifting softly as she moved. A worn brown bag hung from her shoulder, a small plush charm bouncing gently against it.
She didn't realize it herself, but rushing through the quiet night with flushed cheeks and messily fixed hair, Serin looked unbelievably cute.
She bounced on her feet as she slipped into her boots, moving too fast. Then wobbled.
"Ugh—!" She grabbed the wall just in time. "I almost fell."
Letting out a small breath, she grabbed her jacket and paused by the mirror beside the shoe cabinet. She studied her reflection for a second, eyes softening.
"Wah… Mom would've loved how I put this outfit together," she murmured. "It was her favorite style..."
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, tilting her head slightly as if imagining it.
"…Well," she added quietly, reaching for the door handle, "she would've looked way better in it."
Serin shut the door quietly behind her and turned around.
A familiar figure stood just beyond the gate, leaning casually against a black bike.
The streetlight caught him instantly.
Her breath hitched. DEMIAN?!
She squeezed her eyes shut, heart jumping. No. No way. I'm hallucinating. When she opened them again, he was still there. Exact same spot, same posture.
…So it definitely wasn't her imagination.
Demian lifted one hand in a lazy wave, like he'd been standing there forever.
He wore a dark red leather jacket, smooth and clean-cut, without any unnecessary designs. Underneath, a fitted black tank top clung to his torso, outlining his chest and abs without him even trying. A guitar-pick necklace rested against his collarbone, moving slightly as he breathed.
His hair was pulled back messily, not neat enough to look intentional, with a few strands falling around his face. His earrings caught small flashes of light when he tilted his head. Black jeans sat perfectly on his hips—not too tight, not too loose. The black heavy boots made him look even taller.
Behind him, the black bike gleamed quietly. Two helmets rested on the seat.
Serin glanced around quickly, making sure no one was watching. Only then did she let out a breath and hurry toward the small chained gate in front of her house.
"You came here on a bike?" she hissed as she unlocked it, stepping closer to him.
Demian raised a brow. "Wow. I thought the first question would be Why are you here?"
He reached back, grabbed one of the helmets, and held it out to her. "Wear this."
"Actually," Serin said dryly, eyeing the helmet, "that was going to be my second question. But who's counting?" She let out a fake laugh. "Do you even know how to ride properly?"
Demian clicked his tongue and looked away. "Probably. "Then he leaned in slightly, lowering his head to meet her eyes. "I mean… I did get here, didn't I?"
Her shoulders tensed.
"Now wear it," he added, straightening. "We still need to stop by my studio to grab my guitar before heading to your school."
Serin took a sharp step back. "What??" She stared at him. "Why didn't you go there before picking me up?!"
Demian rubbed the back of his neck and straightened again. "Uh… I woke up, realized it was already late, panicked, and came straight here."
He paused, then muttered under his breath
"And Revi would've ripped me apart if you showed up alone."
Serin glared at the helmet for a moment, her thoughts racing. Then, with a frustrated huff, she snatched it from his hand. "UGHHHH, forget it!!"
She stepped closer, rising onto the balls of her boots to bring her face closer to his. "If I die, I will hunt you in your dreams."
She started fumbling with the helmet, tightening the strap as much as she could.
Demian snorted quietly, a faint laugh escaping. "Easy there… you'll choke yourself an die before you even get on the bike." He looked around her before nodding toward the jacket in her hand. "And… wear that. Wind's gonna be brutal."
Serin ignored him entirely, slipping past and approaching the bike. "Now get on," she said, pointing at the seat.
Demian stared at her for a moment, then let out a long sigh. "Don't tell me I didn't warn you." He lifted the helmet over his head and climbed onto the bike, steadying himself. "At least grab onto me, or you'll fall."
Serin swung herself up carefully, side straddling the bike. "This is… so awkward," she muttered, glancing around for somewhere safe to hold. Her hands hovered uncertainly.
Demian waited a beat, then gently grabbed her hands and guided them around his waist. "Safety first."
The engine roared to life, and the vibration made Serin's stomach flip. It was her first time riding a bike. She was both scared and nervous. Despite it, Demian's calm confidence eased her. She wrapped her arms tighter around his waist, pressing her forehead lightly against his back, seeking comfort.
He froze for a second. "H-hey…?" He shifted slightly, feeling the chill of her hands against his waist. "Trust me, I can actually ride this."
Serin squeezed her eyes shut, voice muffled through the helmet. "Just… go already!"
The bike finally lurched down the empty streets, wind tugging at Serin's hair as she clung tightly to Demian's waist.