Everybody Loves an Outlaw

by kaleiivadi

Summary:

“Hm?” Another voice hums, a voice that he recognized as his own. He struggles to open his eyes but is met with a warm palm against his instead. A wave of panic soared through him now. Where was he? Why couldn’t he see anything? 

A moment of silence. 

“You…” there was a pause. “You look pretty, y’know?” feeling a gentle squeeze from the palm above his.

Till attempts to speak, but another voice had already done it for him, followed by distant giggles that resonated from who knows where. It was a memory. His memory. 

“W-what?”

“Pretty,” he remarks. “Like a wife.”

Hyuna and the others stumble upon a vulnerable Till in an alleyway and takes him in to be a pawn of their rebellious shenanigans.

After his debut within the band, they celebrate by appointing him on a solo and definitely not perilous mission.

Notes:

HAIAIIIIIIAIHEUEUWIWIE pls spare me i wrote ts while attending a public seminar💔💔😞😞

Chapter 1: Since You

“Jesus,” Till blurted, looking up from where he was hunched over his guitar and locking eyes with Dewey on the other side of the studio. “Quit fucking up the tempo.” 

“I’m not.” 

“You are.” He scowled, pausing from plucking at the strings of his own to readjust his position on the floor so his back was propped against the drumset behind him. “You’re going way too fast.”

“I’m not.” Dewey repeated. “I think you’re quite forgetting who’s lead guitar and who’s rhythm, kid.” 

“Oh shut the fuck up,” Hyuna spat from behind. “Wrap it up, will ya? I don’t have all day to watch you two lash out at each other’s throats.” 

“Only if Till decides to stop being a prissy bitch.” he remarked with a taunting grin, casually toying with the tuning pegs on his guitar like he hadn’t just granted himself a death wish seconds before.

“I’m not a… prissy bitch.”

“That’s what a prissy bitch would say.”

“Kiss my fucking ass.” 

Dewey hums, “See? Prissy.”  he chuckled before quickly dodging a drumstick that was chucked across the room at him. “Quit throwing a tantrum, Tilly, and I just might.”

“Bastard.” Till flips him off. 

“Oh ignore him, Tilly~” Hyuna chimes in and rises from her stool to skedaddle towards his side, wrapping her arm around his neck, at which Till flinches from the sudden contact. 

He could have sworn he gagged at the paltry pet name, though this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Especially when the five of them are huddled under Hyuna’s roof or in their so-called “sanctuary” which just so happens to be Hyuna’s basement. Till has heard worse. 

“He’s just having his proud oppa-hyung-bigbrother moment ‘cause you’ll be debuting in a few days,” she laughs and ruffles his hair with her free hand as Till struggles to break free, only making the older hold him tighter.

“You lost me at oppa.” Dewey narrowed his gaze at the two.

“Come to think of it… I might be having one, too.” Hyuna gasps, now wrapping both of her arms around Till in an embrace, or at least that’s one way to call it, rather than an effort to smother him to his demise for fuck’s sake. 

“What? You gonna have an oppa-lectic fit?” Till spat.

Snickers from Hyunwoo and Dewey emerged after his witty remark but were quickly replaced with satisfying yelps of pain as Isaac appeared from behind to tug on their ears. Till might have to thank him later.

“I liked you better when you were a prissy bitch.” 

“Good,” he huffs, freeing himself from Hyuna’s embrace and proceeding to pack his guitar. 

“C’monnn,” earning a collective whine from the elder, propping onto a random chair in front with her chin resting against her arms. “You can’t seriously just ditch us on our last rehearsal—we’d be terrible out there!” she exclaims. 

“This is our only rehearsal,” he scowled.

“Which is why…” Hyuna pauses to stand up and pry Till’s guitar from his hands before he could zip the bag, experimentally strumming a random note from a song they’ve been practicing. “We’ve got to make it worthwhile.” 

“It’s called your debut for a reason.” She smiles. 

“Fuck me.”

To be fair, Hyuna wasn’t entirely wrong. It’s been exactly a year since they took Till into their group, but they have yet to officially acknowledge him to be a part of the band. It wasn’t that he’s an insanely bratty and perhaps a tad bit prissy little twerp most of the time. He could be all of those things, but there was no arguing about his talent being ridiculously good—too good. It just so happens that Hyuna and Hyunwoo were the first to comply with that idea almost immediately after their bittersweet interaction. 

“Shit—” he huffs, attempting to recompose his breathing as he falls limp onto the ground, the sound of heavy rain enveloping his whimpers. He feels cold, very cold. 

“Hey, kid!” A voice calls out throughout the alley, but he couldn’t bother to use the remaining strength he had left to look up, feeling his entire body go completely numb, his breathing gradually growing weak. This was it. He was screwed for good. 

“Fuck– are you alright?” The footsteps frantically grew closer, faintly hearing another voice call up to the other from behind. He could have sworn he saw a flash of white light beam at his eyes.

Was this truly it? 

“Holy shit.” The footsteps pause.

“For fuck’s sake, how many dead bodies do we have to bury before we actually become famous?” 

“Either you wanna be famous for being the world’s dumbest murderer or for being a pussy, then count this your lucky day.”  

All the faint bickering made him wish he had just died on the fucking spot. After feeling a pair of strong arms carefully pick his frail body up, all he could remember was the audible wail of sirens of about a dozen police cars approaching the area.

“Fucking hurry up!” With that, everything went completely black.

It all happened so fast. He could almost swear that he’s already in heaven, not like he believes in it or anything. Though it was way better than to spend another second on the land of the living, where each passing day treated him like hell than where he is now. Come to think of it, he feels sort of warm—breezy, even. 

“Till?” A distinct voice echoes. He attempts to move, but it feels as though he wasn’t in his own body. How could he possibly—

“Hm?” Another voice hums, almost too familiar. A voice that he recognized as his own. He struggles to open his eyes but is met with a warm palm against his. A wave of panic soared through him now. Where was he? Why couldn’t he see anything? 

A moment of silence. 

“You…” there was a pause. “You look pretty, y’know?” feeling a gentle squeeze from the palm above his. 

Till attempts to speak, but another voice already did it for him, followed by distant giggles that resonated from who knows where. It was a memory. His memory. 

“W-what?” 

“Pretty,” he remarks. “Like a wife.” there was another moment of silence before he hears a loud smack, feeling a burning sensation on his hand that was now curled up into a fist. 

“D-dont say things like that, dummy!” he exclaims, feeling hot all over his face. He hears a short rustle before his burning palm is suddenly met with something soft and somewhat rough, almost like a bruise. Completely out of his control, he feels his own thumb rub over it, slowly moving down to earn the vibration of what seems to be a soft chuckle. This was driving him insane. 

“Say,” the other starts. “If we aren’t married by thirty, can I marry you?”

He wakes in a cold sweat. 

“Just give me the word, and I’ll have Jacob get rid of him with ease.”

“Shut the fuck up, the boy’s not dead.” 

“Yet.”

“You really wanna do this on the night of our show?”

“Like hell it’s a show,” 

“Stop. He’s waking up.” 

Where is he now? Perhaps another memory? How odd. It didn’t feel like one this time. 

It hurts. It hurts everywhere—

“What’s wrong with him?” he could hear a faint shuffle. This wasn’t heaven, not even close. And as if on impulse, his body shot up quickly in panic. 

“Jesus Chris—” The person that was about to bend down towards him was now groaning on the floor, rubbing the bridge of his bleeding nose as he was met with an excruciating punch from a fist belonging to a presumed corpse in front of them just seconds before.  

Till can see much clearly now; he didn’t have time to scan his vivid surroundings, not even the rest of the figures that jerked back at his reaction and are now slowly approaching him. He bolted off from where he was lying down and quickly limped to the nearest exit, except there wasn’t any. 

Place was practically isolated, covered in what seems to be acoustic foam. Screaming would be useless at this point—but he does so anyway. He uses the small amount of strength that he has to bang vigorously at a wall, it didn’t take long before the pain in his body eventually sabotaged his attempts to escape. He huffs in defeat, his back pressed against the wall and gradually sinking down to hug his knees, narrowing his eyes as they begin to swell. 

“Hey.” He sees a tall silhouette peer down at him, kneeling down to match his figure, but he was almost too petrified to move an inch. He could feel his ears begin to ring.

Please please, just get it over with. 

“Fuck, he’s tremblin’ like a puppy, man.” 

Hurt me. Hurt me.

“Hey, can you hear me?” he snaps his fingers in front of Till, sighing when he sees they weren’t much use either.

The boy was fucking traumatized. It made sense. They found him lying numb on the ground by a dumpster in an alleyway, bleeding heavily and covered with purple bruises practically everywhere, more so on his legs. He was merely wearing a shirt that enveloped half of his frail body. And this just had to occur two hours before their gig at the local pub that was a few blocks down where they had stumbled upon Till. How fortunate. Definitely nothing out of the ordinary. 

“The hell are we gonna do now? He’s clearly helpless.” A voice chimes in, Till assumes it was the guy he punched out of compulsion from the way his voice was followed with mumbled groans. 

“Cancel the show.” 

“Wha—?” 

“You fuckin’ deaf? I said we’re gonna cancel.”’

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Quit being a baby, Dewey. You were strain anyway,” Hyuna spat. “There’s no way we were goin’ up there with you sounding like absolute shit.” 

“You definitely look the part now too.” She moves to his side to playfully poke at his fucked up nose.

“Bitch,” he blurts.

“Dick,” she bites back. “Wacha think, bro?” turning to face Hyunwoo, who was still kneeling on the floor. 

He hums, “Normally, I’d beg to differ,” still narrowing his focus at the boy in front of him. “But not today.” He turns his head up to smile at Hyuna.

“Besides,” he adds, reaching to gently lift the other’s chin as he realizes the lad had passed out again. “He’s gonna need our help, and we’ll need his.” 

Hyuna beams at his response, practically strangling Dewey in excitement. 

"And how precisely do you intend to help him?" Isaac spoke from the opposite side of the room, crossing his arms as he plops on their couch. 

“Why, by taking him in with us of course!” Hyunwoo rose with a gleam in his tone. Isaac believed he saw flowers in his aura for a brief moment. This optimistic bastard.

“You mean as a hostage?”

“Heavens no! Must you always have to think of us so poorly, Isaac?” he palms at his own chest dramatically. “Oh, you wound me so.” 

Isaac rolls his eyes. “Keep blabbering and I just might.”

“Whatever, you’re no fun.” 

“Anyways,” he clears his throat, “We’ll just keep him with us for a little while since the cops are obviously out to get him.”

“You tellin’ me that not only are we face-to-face with a zombie, but a goddamn criminal?”

“A really cute one,” Hyuna quotes.

“Fuck—are you even hearing yourselves right now?” he exclaims. “For all we could know, he might've just slaughtered a whole town two hours ago!”

“Which is a perfectly reasonable point for us to keep him.” Hyunwoo shoots him a grin. 

With that, Isaac sighs in defeat, saying nothing more and proceeds to hunch over on the other side of the couch to paw at something in his bag.

Of course they were very much aware of the potential risks; it just so happened to be that Till was also exactly what they needed. He may not know it yet, but there will come a time when he’ll just have to depend on them back. To be fair, the four of them aren’t so clean themselves. Having to move from one city to another is one thing, performing in pubs with different identities while committing embezzlement is two. This rebellion carried on for God knows when, and yet, they never seemed to get caught in the process. However, Till, on the other hand, differs so much from the four in a lot of terms. 

The first two weeks were the toughest of all. After Till had regained consciousness, he was expecting to see the familiar faces of his kidnappers, but much to his surprise—nobody was there. He slowly picks himself up from where he was lying down and scans the whole room as soon as his feet make contact with the cold floor. What caught his attention first were the set of different instruments in the center of the room, he moves to limp toward what seems to be a digital piano and reaches his hand to brush along the keys. He hums in amusement, eyes now shifting towards a mirror just beside the drum set. He stands in front of it to get a full view of himself. He looks fucking miserable. 

He notices that some places on his arms were bandaged up and that he was actually wearing pieces of decent clothing that clearly didn’t belong to him. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants that felt quite big on him but did a pretty good job covering the bruises on his legs. Another was an oversized black shirt that barely hung over his shoulders. He notices the neckline had been cut out. The shirt even had a ridiculous-looking rabbit printed on the front; he cringes at the sight. 

After scanning his figure, he slowly brings up his hand on his bandaged neck, grazing his fingers above it gently. 

It hurts. 

He hisses, turning away to take a seat on a nearby stool. He plots an attempt to escape, but his mind was too fucked up to even cooperate. He fiddles with his fingers and spots an electric guitar in the shade of teal with the corner of his eye by the drum set and scoots towards it, remaining seated on the stool. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t mesmerized at the sight. He only ever saw one of these on television back at his hometown, or rather it used to be. He reaches for the guitar and sighs at how perfectly it fits in his hands, as if it were crafted specifically for him. 

Without another thought, he experimentally plucks at the first few strings and hums in satisfaction at the sound. Now positioning his slim fingers on the frets, starting off with a short riff. Soon enough, he commences a pace, fingers shifting rapidly now. 

“Well, would ya look at that,” he shudders and quickly pauses to look up at the figure that stood from the other side of the room. He hadn’t even noticed the footsteps that followed from behind the mysterious person. 

“Little twerp can actually play,” letting out an exaggerated chuckle. “Told ya he’d be special. 

Before he knew it, he stood up, clutching at the guitar in his hand and pointing its upper half at the group that was now standing before him. 

“Woah, easy there,” One of them raising their arms. “We’re not here to hurt you.” 

“Is that my fucking guitar—Ow!!” he saw the other one getting elbowed. This was gonna be a long night. 

“What he meant to say was that,” another voice joins in, clearing their throat before raising their arms. “We mean no harm, kid.” 

“How about you put that down and let’s talk, yes?”

He, in fact, did not put the guitar down throughout that night.

Chapter 2: Let Bygones Be Bygones

It had been exactly a month since their unfortunate encounter. Each passing day felt like they were taming a carnivorous mammal at most with how Till is compensating their generosity. Two Saturdays ago, they offered him a rationed portion of the food that Dewey had brought home for the group. The jerk even insisted on adding laxatives to his portion of the food just to get back at the little brat.

“Okay,” Hyunwoo exhales. “Let’s try this again, shall we?” He takes a seat on the vacant space in front of Till and slides the bowl of Tteokguk towards him.

“What’s your name?” He bounces his leg, patiently waiting for a response. Not like Till ever gave any from the past fourteen attempts they’ve spoken to him. Till fixed his gaze anywhere but the multiple eyes staring intently at him.

He already feels weirded out just simply being there, but what’s even weirder is how they’ve been ridiculously treating him with hospitality for the past week. He knows they weren’t good news, and neither was he. The mere difference is that Till was the only one being staked out by a dozen cops right about now, whereas these four can go a day adhering to measly acts of delinquency without being tailed on. It made him feel a bit jealous at the thought.

“Can I try?”

Hyuna peered from behind, Hyunwoo runs a hand through his hair in defeat and turns to give her an approving nod before leaving with the others to give them some time. Dewey and Isaac are already quick to conspire against the other two.

She smiles, quickly occupying the currently vacant space. “Hi,” she starts. “I’m Hyuna.”

And for the first time, Till actually looks up. Throughout the past fourteen attempts they’ve done to get him to talk, these morons never truly bothered to put together an effort in actually grabbing his interest, only shooting him with obnoxious questions like, “Who are you? Who do you work for?” or “What’s your name? Can you even talk?” It was sickening, he could have sworn he’s had better conversations with stray animals than these people.

“You don’t have to tend to them,” she leans in. “They’re a lost cause.”

Surprisingly, his lips curl up. It wasn’t technically a smile, but Hyuna will buy it. He’s hardly ever seen her nor Hyunwoo around. The only ones brave enough to approach him on a daily basis were Dewey and Isaac—not like they wanted to, but simply because they were instructed to do so in exchange for booze. Sometimes, he would be left alone whenever they were off to a show, and Till finds it an opportunity to escape.

It didn’t take him long enough to learn that there was a secret hatch located just above a lampshade that stood in a certain corner of the room. It would often flicker thrice to indicate their return, which Till found quite silly, even for someone as tedious as him who can never seem to crack a smile at anyone nor anything.

Despite the opportunities offered to him, he still failed and failed. He’d rather be rotting behind bars than to spend another minute being imprisoned with these other delinquents.

“Believe me, each passing day with these dickheads are nothing but a pain in the ass,” she gags jokingly. “Ain’t that right, Till?”

He freezes on the spot. How did she—

“Oh, sorry.” She clears her throat. “I don’t mean to overstep.”

She scratches at her head. “It’s just that… you have it engraved near your collarbone from when I was bandaging ya up.”

Till palms at his chest. Of course, like that wasn’t obvious. He was just taken aback at the sudden mention of his identity. For a second there, he thought he was in some sort of trouble, as if that could ever outweigh the amount of shit he’s already in. Still, he can never be too sure.

“Looks badass, by the way.”

Silence.

“So uh… how’s your neck?” She says in an attempt to break the ice.

Hyuna notices his discomfort and quickly reaches to paw at something in her pocket, fishing out a guitar pick, its original design now covered in some sort of residue from dried blood and a tad of dirt. She grabs Till’s wrist with her free hand and places it on his own. “I believe this is yours.”

“It was lying beside your body the night we found you.”

He stares down at the pick, closing his hand tightly around it. It was originally a pendant from a choker that he always wore, he wonders where the rest of it was.

Hyuna hums, moving to readjust her position. “So it does belong to you.”

“Must be very special then?” Tilting her head to the side. Why was she even wasting her time on him?

Regardless if he acknowledged her—because apparently, Hyuna was by far the closest to being humane as anyone else he’s ever met, Till still felt quite apologetic that he couldn’t even bother to mutter a response. Hyuna was surprisingly understanding about it, though.

“Hey.” She leans in. “Seems pretty boring to be imprisoned down here, no?

Till furrows his brows.

“How would you feel about going on a little trip?”

This catches his attention almost immediately.

Hyuna grins at this and scrambles off elsewhere. Till assumed she was just simply trying to get under his skin, but before he could react, the bitch had already tossed him a different set of clothes and a pair of boots that looked like they likely came up just past his kneecaps. The absurdity of it almost made him laugh.

“What? Not your style?,” she raises an eyebrow. “I’d give ya something else, but I didn’t quite take ya to be the conservative type.”

Hyuna sighs and turns around to fetch another set of clothes but is quickly met with a heavy force, falling face-flat onto the floor immediately as Till pounces on top of her.

“Holy sh—”

Till cuts her off, “How do I know you’re not fucking with me?”

She chuckles, “Finally in the mood to cooperate, huh?”

“How do I know you’re not trying to sell me off to the police?” His tone was much sterner now, applying more pressure onto her back.

“Ow ow ow!!” She screams. “Fuck—this is the thanks we get for bein’ compassionate now?” Till only pins her down harder.

Hyuna huffs, attempting to wriggle her way out of Till’s grip but groans in defeat. “Why the hell would I sell you off? Don’t ya think we should have done that ages ago?”

“Plus,” she adds. “You looked like you’ve nowhere to go.”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “I never asked for your help, never needed it.” He eventually lets her go, standing up to brush himself off.

“Ya didn’t have to,” she coughs, scrambling to get on her feet to fully face him.

“Look, you may be a little brat and all, but that was never an issue for us, kid. You’ve got to do more than just assault us on a daily basis to get under our skin.”

Come to think of it, none of them ever really showed intent of harming him by any means. He observed them carefully each passing day, and realistically enough, he never once felt threatened. It was only Till who thought so, and he thinks they’re incredibly dumb. Even after everything, he is still the victim here after all, but he’d be lying if he claimed that he didn’t feel relieved for not turning him over to the authorities.

Till was uncertain whether he should feel thankful or skeptical since he still doesn’t know them enough to trust them. He knows the feeling is mutual in their case. However, one thing’s for sure is that the five of them happen to share one similarity—to constantly run away.

With that, Till says nothing further and stubbornly picks up the set of clothes and pair of boots that Hyuna had brought before turning his back to walk away.

“Hey—”

“Don’t.” Till raises his hand to cut her off, proceeding towards a corner to change.

Hyuna can’t help but let out an exaggerated laugh. Till wishes he took the chance to smother her on the spot while he was at it.

He doesn’t remember climbing on the back of Hyuna’s motorbike—hell, he doesn’t even remember consenting to her impulsive shenanigans. He literally had the free will to flee the moment they climbed up the secret passage, but for some stupid reason, he didn’t. Hyuna hands him a helmet and tilts her bike slightly to the side for Till to reach the footpeg before quickly driving off. He was too caught up in the moment of feeling the cold breeze blow past his cheeks to even complain. It didn’t matter anymore whether he was being tricked into falling behind bars. He needed this.

The night was still young; it didn’t take long before Hyuna eventually made a stop, causing Till to raise his head and scan their surroundings. He assumes they haven’t gone that far, but oh, he was wrong. They were in a completely different city, one he did not recognize.

“What the fuck?” he blurts out.

“What?” Hyuna raises an eyebrow before turning off her motorbike. “Feeling homesick already?”

“Not only did you and your crappy minions abduct me, but also shipped me to a different region while I was fucking rotting?”

“Passed out,” She corrects him.

“Whatever.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, your highness. Is this undeniably stunning city not to your liking?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Jeez, I actually liked you way better when you were a stubborn mute.”

“The feeling is mutual,” he snaps back.

“Ya don’t even know what we’re doin’ yet.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Think of it as a compromise.” She nudges him playfully.

“You must be kidding yourself,” he scoffs. “I don’t do bargains.”

“We can clear your name.”

A tense pause hangs in the air.

The one thing that Till had ever longed for the most was to break free from everything that stood in the way of his autonomy, but now it’s being offered to him single-handedly on a random Friday evening. Even if he were to be free now, he understands there is a part of him that will remain bound and constantly feed on his conscience.

“Honey, stop!! You’re going to kill him!”

“Well then, he should have known better than to pick measly fights with the mayor’s son.” Urak huffs, holding the broken bottle of beer in his hand as he peers down at a trembling Till before him.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a suck-up, I would have never—”

Urak cuts him off, his grip snapping tight around Till’s neck, hoisting him off the ground and pinning him against the thin walls of their apartment. Io wails and attempts to stop her husband, which results in her being shoved towards the floor with his free hand.

“Mom!” Till cries out.

“I didn’t raise a fucking pussy of a son,” Urak’s grip tightening around his neck.

“You will not set foot into this house, not unless you’ve redeemed yourself, do you understand?” He says coldly, eyes boring into Till’s like molten steel.

“I said, do you und—”

“Go fucking burn in hell.” Till spits in his face before using the last ounce of his strength to plunge the other’s chest with a shard of broken glass from the jagged bottle, earning an excruciating scream. Till eventually falls to the floor, scrambling to crawl towards his mother’s side.

“M-Mom—are you alright?!” He helps her up, but Io pushes him off.

“You have to get out of here, Till, please,” she says, reaching her hand out to caress his wet cheek.

“Mom, no—” Till hesitates and hears Urak groan from behind, staggering to his feet.

“You little shit.”

“Go. Now!!” Despite Till wanting to ignore her protests, he wastes no time and bolts out of their apartment. He runs out of the building, barely making it out of the exit, and limps for God knows how long that night. He feels his eyes begin to swell but fights back the tears from spilling out. He needed to get out of there—he will get out. Before he knew it, he hears distinct wails of about a dozen police cars coming his way, so he takes a different path and collapses by an empty alleyway.

He wakes in a cold sweat.

“So… is that a yes?” Hyuna says, clicking her tongue.

If anything, he’d want nothing more than to finally be free of this hell hole. Till didn’t care if it meant it would haunt him for the rest of his life—such an opportunity like this isn’t something that can just grow from trees. It’s almost unfeasible.

“Whatever, man, it’s your loss—”

“Wait,” he cuts her off. “What… what do I have to do?”

Hyuna smiles, leaning in. “Ya ever sucked a cock?”

The overwhelming vibrations of upbeat music, whiffs of alcohol and mixed perfumes were the first to welcome him the second he and Hyuna set foot into what seemed to be a night pub. The streets were jam-packed with dozens of different vehicles, so he prepared for the worst of what’s inside. Surprisingly enough, he might just have to thank Hyuna later for not exaggerating on his outfit. It was strangely to his liking, but of course, he wouldn’t want to admit that.

As they make their way through the crowd, Hyuna quickly spots Hyunwoo preparing to go on stage and drags Till along with her.

“Yo!” She calls out.

“Jesus Christ, Hyuna, I’ve tried calling y—holy shit.” Hyunwoo blurts, placing his guitar down. “What is he doing here?” He pushes Hyuna to the side, revealing an annoyed-looking Till, who seemingly looked like he didn’t want to be there either.

“I’ll explain later, ‘kay?”

“But—”

She cuts him off, “Where’s the guy?”

“At your 2 o’clock,” He sighs, narrowing his gaze at a tall figure in black from the bar who seemed to be accompanied by other guests, clinking their glasses all together.

“Isaac and Dewey?”

“They’re all set.”

“Tell them to come up on stage.”

“What? Are you insane?”

“Maybe a little, but just trust me on this one, pretty pleaseee?” She pouts and bats her eyelashes at him.

“I sometimes wonder how I’m even related to you.” Hyunwoo fishes for his phone in his pocket and sends a quick message to the other two.

Within minutes, they appear from the crowd wearing confused faces.

“What’s going o—the fuck?” Dewey blurts.

“Yeah yeah, you all fucking despise each other, but let’s just let bygones be bygones for now.” She rolls her eyes.

“Anyway, Till’s gonna be playing with us, so play nicely.”

Sounds of protests erupted immediately but were soon interrupted by a voice through the microphone, followed by a collective round of applause.

“And to wrap up tonight’s banquet, let’s welcome The Rebels onto the stage!”

“Go go go!” Hyuna demands, hurriedly pushing them and quickly turning to Till.

“Break a leg,” She winks, shoving Hyunwoo’s guitar into his hands. Till takes it and gives her a knowing look before stepping onto the stage.

Dewey and Isaac also exchange looks but quickly proceed to settle into their own instruments.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Hyunwoo whispers to his sister, who merely shoots him a grin.

“Compromising,” She says before following onto the stage, leaving Hyunwoo to keep watch.

It wasn’t quite difficult for Till to figure out the riff of their songs. He often sits and watches them rehearse every night before their performance in the basement, and he was quick to pick up the flow just from spectating. He sometimes finds himself executing one of the guitar solos whenever he was left alone and would criticize Dewey in his head for every time he fucks up—so much for being a show off. The guy couldn’t even get the tempo right.

Isaac starts them off with one sharp strike to his drums, making the opening snap beats clean and steady. Dewey comes in first with his bass humming low at each press of his fingers on the strings. He keeps his eyes down, letting Isaac’s pace guide him before Hyuna follows smoothly with her fingers gliding along the keys—completing the first half of their song’s instrumental. Till keeps his stance, getting ready to position his own digits on the fretboard. Seconds later, the beat eventually slows down as Hyuna leans into the microphone.

“Alright, Xylo—let’s get fucking lit tonight!” She shouts, earning collective whistles and wild applause from the crowd.

In just a second, Isaac crashes back in hard, his sticks slamming against the drums in a rapid and pulsating rhythm that turns the beat feral. The tempo surges louder and faster this time.

That was Till’s cue.

He steps forward and rips into the guitar, his fingers fly across the frets. The crowd erupts in cheers and some start moving onto the center to dance or just watch up close. A few seconds before the bridge of the song, Till feels his hands begin to cramp in the process and hisses when he shifts his fingers. Luckily, Hyuna’s voice overpowered his part so the minor fuck-up wasn’t too obvious. He curses under his breath as his fingers start to curl.

“Woah, look at that kid go.”

Till looks up to see some of the people in the crowd exchanging whispers at each other, his knees growing weak. His breathing gets heavier each passing second and he tries his best to keep up. He shifts his gaze and spots the supposed target that Hyuna mentioned, only to find that he was already staring intently at Till from head to toe, glass of whiskey still in his mouth; he cringed at the sight. He was basically undressing Till in his mind, and must his target have to look like a retired dilf?

He couldn’t care less to even complain at this point, not when he feels another pair of eyes stare at him. Till doesn’t know where or who, but he couldn’t be possibly wrong. He briefly shrugs it off and narrows down his eyes, feeling incredibly drowsy.

“Your pal’s getting kind of sloppy.” Hyuna hears Dewey say from behind but pays no mind and continues to sing. A pang of worry creeps into her but she tries to brush it off. She trusts Till enough to do the job—she still does.

“You will not set foot into this house unless you’ve redeemed yourself, do you understand?”

Redeem my fucking ass.

A wave of anger surges through his body like adrenaline in an instant. He rolls his shoulders back and shifts his grip, forcing his cramped fingers to obey through sheer will until they were practically bleeding. Till leans into the numbing pain in his fingers, changing the rhythm on instinct. He picks up a pace that was much rougher this time—one that wasn’t even in the original flow of the song but he plays a perfectly improvised riff that blended undeniably well into Dewey and Isaac’s tempo.

“Son of a bitch.” Hyuna thought to herself, relief loosened her chest and she could only let out a laugh. She pushes her voice higher and louder, body practically riding the wave Till had thrown back into the song.

Till wraps up his solo in a blur, letting the final chord ring out as he strums for the last time. The place was practically bursting with deafening screams and cheers. He huffs, sweat trailing down his neck before he places the guitar down and climbs down the stage. He makes his way towards the bar, accidentally nudging his leg against the man beside him as he rests his elbows on the counter.

“Mezcal,” he says to the bartender, slowly adjusting his position so half of his chest is pressed against the wooden surface, ass perking up at just the right angle. The shorts Hyuna gave him did a perfect job emphasizing his curves. He feels a pair of eyes practically strip him down from head to toe. This is too fucking easy. He truly wishes Hyuna had given him a much harder one to wrap around his finger, but complains no further. It’s not like he was doing this for free.

Till was very much aware that he was attractive—he lets everything and everyone go according his way with just a bat of an eye.

This was his forte.

He downs the liquor in one go and purposely lets a residue of it trail down his chin, lips glistening. He could already see a tent building up through the guy’s pants from the corner of his eye and he hadn't even started. How pathetic.

Till just wanted to get this over with immediately, his hands were still cramping like crazy and the dried blood beneath his fingertips weren’t any better. He picks himself off the counter and swiftly makes his way to the restroom—seeing the man slide what seems to be a credit card towards the bartender as he mouths something before hopping off his stool.

As soon as he reached the bathroom, he was welcomed with the smell of sex and cigarettes, his nose scrunches almost immediately. He proceeds to shut the door anyway and hops onto the marbled island, propping his leg over the other as he reaches for his pocket to take out a cig.

“Nghh— fuck!" A muffled moan escapes from one of the cubicles, followed by a faint noise of a belt clashing.

Till flinches, dropping the stick that was hanging between his lips.

“Motherfucker.” he curses under his breath in frustration, bending down to pick it up but someone else’s foot beats him to it, crushing the little thing repeatedly.

“Hey what the fuck, man?!” Till blurts, turning his head to look up and he swears he saw red.

He hadn’t even heard the creak of a cubicle door opening but catches a glimpse of a flushed woman hurriedly exiting the bathroom. Till quickly looks away, avoiding the tall figure that peered down at him.

“If you wanted to smoke so badly, there’s truly no need to get on your knees for it. At least have some self-respect.” He recognized that fucking voice all too well.

“Do you normally do this or am I just a lucky fella?”

Notes:

it gets a teenie weenie bittie sexual