by Daria Defore
After another moment, Jiyoon's finger stilled, and one side of his mouth quirked up in a smile. He met Danny's eyes across the room, gave him a meaningful glare, and then took a seat beside the podium. Danny shrunk again.
"I'm so fucked."
*~*~*
"You're so fucked!" Lei crowed. They were meeting for their afternoon practice, which Sam had begun by gleefully recounting the events of Accounting 101.
"Super fucked." Danny strummed a chord for emphasis. "Also, I looked at our homework for next week, and I think I might suck at accounting. He's gonna fail my ass."
"It's not so bad, is it?" Victor was ever the optimist. "You're both adults—"
"Ha."
"Shut it, Sam." Danny tossed his guitar pick and was gratified when it went straight down Sam's shirt.
"And he probably doesn't even hold a grudge anyway!" Victor raised his voice so they could hear it over the howls of Lei's laughter. "You only talked to him for what, five minutes?"
"And he threw a drink in my face, and I was… I was a huge dick," Danny said, and was ashamed to admit it. At the time, he had been swept up in the high of finishing a good show and wanting to look cool. He hadn't even really apologized for all the shit he'd said about Jiyoon's boyfriend.
"He's probably going to make you miserable." Sam shrugged, looking far too amused for someone who was fishing a guitar pick out of her bra. "And you deserve it."
"Laugh all you want, Sam Choi. He probably hates you, too."
Sam snorted and flipped her bangs out of her eyes. "As if he'd recognize the bassist."
"Ouch. Did you just burn yourself?" Sam leveled him a glare, and Danny relented. "Okay, okay. He hates me, I'm the face of the band and also entitled assholes everywhere. I get it."
Still, the idea of sitting through a small group lecture with Jiyoon was almost intolerably awkward. The more Danny thought about their meeting, the more he felt like shit. Sure, he had gotten slapped and had to wash a cocktail out of his T-shirt. But the guy probably hadn't enjoyed being hit on and hearing his boyfriend insulted at a concert he didn't even want to be at. Danny knew from experience that a little confidence went a long way, but the way he'd talked to Jiyoon had bypassed confidence and gone straight into utter douchebag.
So he knew he was doing the right thing when he knocked on Professor Weaver's office door before their next class. He would just ask to get help from the math center or something, no big deal. There must be some students who didn't have time for the extra lectures that TAs usually directed.
Maybe he wouldn't even need the help, anyway. This was basic accounting class. The shit couldn't be that hard.
"Come in," Weaver grunted, and Danny opened the study door. Weaver's office was a shabby mess of books and papers. Danny had a momentary twinge of pity for Jiyoon, who probably had to deal with this on a daily basis. Then he smoothed his hair back so that he looked super studious and professional. He took the seat across from Professor Weaver, who kept on pretending like he didn't exist.
Danny started tapping his foot on the floor with impatience.
Weaver was going over a thick sheaf of papers, his glasses sliding gradually down his nose. Eventually, he lifted his head and cleared his throat. "Stop jiggling, Mr. Kim."
"Right. Sorry." Danny mentally nailed his feet to the floor and laced his hands together.
Finally, Weaver sighed and pushed the papers away. "What is it you wanted to speak to me about?"
Just like that, then. No apology. If that was how it was, there was no need for Danny to beat around the bush.
"I need to drop the study group. If you want me to get extra lectures or whatever, I can do it at the resource center."
Professor Weaver's bushy grey eyebrows rose. "You filled out the schedule on the first day, didn't you? I was told there were no conflicts with the group meetings."
"Yeah, but…" Danny winced and shrugged. "I… I just can't make it, that's all." There was probably no good way to say I insulted my TA and his boyfriend, and now he holds an undying grudge against me. Or maybe there was, but he sure didn't want to bring it up in front of this old white guy.
"You could've just emailed me, Mr. Kim. The answer would still be no, but you would've wasted less of our time."
Danny gawked, momentarily speechless. Sure, he had never exactly been the best student in a class, but he had never had a professor talk to him like that, either.
"Uh… but I can't make it, so—"
"Then you're going to fail this class."
"What?" Danny's jaw dropped. "You don't wanna like, work with my schedule or whatever?"
Weaver's lips pressed together in a facsimile of a smile. "I'm sure if you actually have a conflict, you can work it out on your own. Is that all?" Weaver angled his chair slightly and started typing on his computer.
"Apparently, yeah."
If Weaver made note of the rising annoyance in Danny's voice, it didn't show. "Shut the door behind you."
Danny sat frozen in his chair for another second, half-hoping Weaver would take notice and react. But he just kept typing away, and eventually Danny was forced to admit defeat. He grabbed his backpack off the floor and slung it over one shoulder, as noisily as he could.
"Bye, then."
"Goodbye, Mr. Kim."
"See you in class."
A grunt was his only answer. Danny jerked open the door and slammed it behind him, then barreled straight into Jiyoon.
"Fuck—" Danny stumbled back, almost dropping his backpack.
Jiyoon scrambled to hang onto the armful of books he was carrying, his lips clamping down into a thin line. There was a look of annoyance on his round—unfortunately still cute as hell—face. "Daniel."
"It's Danny, thanks," Danny snapped. "See you in group."
He darted around Jiyoon and powered down the hallway. His face felt like it was flaming red. So much for getting out of the guy's way. Why not literally run into him instead? Danny tried to tell himself it wasn't a big deal as he headed straight home to leave a scathing review on Weaver's Rate My Professor page.
He felt bad because sure, he had been lying about having a conflict, so obviously he wasn't going to press the issue. But what if he hadn't? What if he had had a job schedule him for that time slot or any of the other things that could crop up in a busy student's schedule? Weaver was being a dickbag for no reason.
As Danny scrolled through the other ratings on the Rate My Professor page, his stomach started to tie itself in knots. No surprise, Weaver wasn't popular. Consensus was that he was a hard-ass. A serious hard-ass. There were multiple complaints about him giving brutal exams, and being inflexible to the point of totalitarian on accepting late work, for any reason.
Danny thought back on all the lectures that he had spaced out during. Even when he had tried to pay attention and take notes, they always ended up in gibberish.
Passing Accounting 101 was looking less likely than ever.
*~*~*
Danny went into his first supplemental lecture with a lot of trepidation and a half-completed accounting worksheet. He and Sam (an asshole, who had ended up in a different group time slot that left Danny to fend for himself) had bashed their heads against the homework the night before and given up in favor of an acoustic jam session. Okay, so that was totally their fault. But the material was still pretty inscrutable.
Jiyoon spent the hour blatantly ignoring him.
He spent the next couple weeks blatantly ignoring him. If he did have to speak to Danny, his responses were snappy and to the point.
At least, he wasn't feeding Danny wrong answers or anything. Danny took copious notes and tried to let the other students talk as much as possible, which was fine, because when Jiyoon wasn't teaching him, he was actually really good. He was patient and gifted at translating accounting jargon into normal-person words.
It was just that there was a war going on between Jiyoon's sense of duty as a TA, and his utter annoyance towards Danny.
And Danny deserved it. Or he felt like he did.
Not just because of the whole meet-insult situation. The problem was, he couldn't seem to do anything right when it came to this class. He wasn't failing yet, but showing up with incomplete assignments wasn't helping his reputation.
Normally, he wouldn't care. The band was staying on top of practices, and they had more shows lined up. That was what mattered. But he hated the resigned expression Jiyoon took on when he saw the blank spots in Danny's homework.
The trouble with homework was that there was always something more important to do. Currently, for example, he was finally taking a tally of their merch, something he had been putting off since the last show.
As he dug through one of the ratty cardboard boxes that cluttered their apartment, he found the CD with his autograph still scrawled on the back of the booklet.
It really was a good picture. His nearly shoulder-length hair was messy and pushed back, and he was sweating, but more in a working-hard-under-the-lights way than a gross way. His handwriting looped over his tightest and only pair of leather pants—"To Devin."
The boyfriend. The noble, plain boyfriend who Jiyoon accompanied to every The Trouble show, even though he didn't like the music. So that they could hold hands and feel whatever couples felt when they did shit together. It wasn't that Danny didn't understand that—he did. He just hadn't thought about it when it really mattered.
Danny put the CD in his backpack. He really was an asshole.
Chapter Three
That week when study group wrapped up, Danny took his time putting his things away. He was acutely aware that he was on the precipice of potentially fucking up harder than he had before. Were his hands sweating? His hands were definitely sweating.
As the other students filtered out, only Jiyoon was left, crossing his arms and frowning.
"What's this? You're usually the first to leave."
Danny took a deep breath and took the CD out of his backpack. Immediately, Jiyoon sighed.
"Hey, look, I brought this—"
"I told you, I'm not interested—"
"It's not for you! It's for your boyfriend. He comes to all our shows. Hell, he brings people to our shows, and that's… that's really cool. We would be lucky to have more fans like him, so you know… he should have it."
"Oh." Jiyoon took the CD, holding it in both hands like a particularly delicate bomb. "Thank you."
"No problem." Danny laughed, trying to break the tension. "Hey, if you wanna tell him you begged me for it because you knew it'd be the perfect gift or something, you'd look pretty cool."
Jiyoon smiled wryly. "You mean you don't want me to tell him that the lead singer of his favorite band insulted him and tried to pick me up?"
"Well, if you did that, we might lose our biggest fan… but hey, it's up to you." Danny held his hands out. "My life is in your hands."
"All right."
"Seriously, though. Don't feel like you have to—lie or anything. Tell him the truth. I deserve it."
Jiyoon let out a soft laugh. "I don't think he'd mind."
"Still. I'm sorry." Danny picked up his bag and hefted it over his shoulder. "I'm gonna be the best student to make up for it, though. Just watch."
Jiyoon was looking down at the CD, turning it over in his hands. "You haven't been doing so well, have you?" When their gazes met again, Jiyoon's expression dropped some of its reserve. "How is the class going?"
"It's fine," Danny said with a laugh. His cheeks were heating up. "I just, uh—shit comes up sometimes. But I'm gonna do better."
Jiyoon nodded. "Right. I'd hate to have to fail you." That wry smile came back to his face, and Danny noticed he had a tiny mole just above his top lip. Danny liked it. He really, really liked it.
*~*~*
Their next show was in the most cramped bar in all of Cap Hill. The stage was barely big enough for the four of them, and the sound system looked like it was from the 1980s. Still, the place had a reputation as the Place to Be Heard, and Danny knew it would be packed to the gills. And not just because it was tiny.
The crowd was pumped, from the opening chords of The Trouble's first song through the end of the set. They even sang along to what Lei had dubbed their "radio song"—if they ever managed to make it that big, that was. Halfway through, Danny noticed Jiyoon at the bar, perched on a stool next to that tall, hawk-nosed boyfriend of his.
And he was watching.
Danny couldn't stop himself from smiling. Jiyoon's phone was nowhere in sight. One of his hands was loosely wrapped up in Devin's, and the other held his drink, and he met Danny's gaze as he gave a little cocktail salute.
Jiyoon might just have been their good luck charm, because the show was a rousing success. They had to come on for an encore, which meant trotting out one of the newer songs that wasn't quite finished, at least not by Danny and Sam's exacting standards. A few wrong chords and forgotten lyrics aside, the crowd ate it up.
"Holy shit, you guys. Holy shit," Lei kept saying while they packed up so the next band could take the stage. "Holy shit."
"That went well." Sam was trying to play it cool, but Danny could see the excitement barely contained in the corners of her mouth. Victor's hands were shaking as he zipped up the bag with the cymbals.
"I'm gonna buy you guys a round," Danny announced. "We fucking earned it tonight."
He didn't pretend not to look for Jiyoon when he went to the bar, but he and Devin were nowhere in sight. Oh well. He would check in with Jiyoon in class and see if their peace talk had made Jiyoon like the music more. A hand tapped his shoulder and he spun around, expecting to see Jiyoon there—instead a tall, older woman in a black blazer smiled back at him. Her hair fell in springy corkscrews, and her deep brown skin shone in the lights from the bar.
"You're Danny Kim, right?"
"That's me."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Erika Jones with Doubletime Entertainment. I liked your set." Erika handed him a matte business card. The first thing that caught his eye was the familiar gold Doubletime logo, printed in shiny letters against the black card. He knew that logo from the backs of some of his favorite CDs.
Then the words "Talent Manager" leapt out at him. Oh.
Oh.
Danny struggled to keep a straight face. "Wow. That's. Wow. Um."
Erika laughed. "It's all right. Listen, I'd like to hear more of your work. Call me sometime, and we can set up a meeting."
"Absolutely. Yeah. I'll do that." Danny was waffling over whether he should offer to buy her a drink—was that even appropriate?—when someone called Erika's name and she glanced over her shoulder.
"I'll look forward to it. Have a good night, Mr. Kim." With that, she was gone, and Danny was left with her card clutched in his way-too-sweaty hand.
Holy shit.
Somehow he found Sam in the crowd and yanked her into a dark corner. Sam stared at the business card, which Danny had shoved into her hand.
"Where did you find this?"
"She. Gave. It. To. Me." Danny punctuated his words with little shakes of Sam's shoulders, until Sam smacked him away.
There was a moment of dead silence while Sam stared at the card. Then: "No."
"No, you don't believe me, or no, you don't want me to call her tomorrow and change our fucking lives forever?"
Sam closed her mouth, which had been hanging open. "I don't believe it."
"Well, I'm not lying, my dude. A Doubletime rep watched our show. She seems like a real nice lady. And that is her card." Danny could barely believe it himself. He knew this bar was good for visibility, but he had assumed that was just a local thing. Not that representatives for record labels prowled the sticky floors, handing out cards.
Doubletime wasn't a huge label, but it had a reputation for turning out quality indie rock groups. And wasn't that exactly what they were?
"They produced Loose Inferno's first album," Sam was saying, like she and Danny hadn't listened to that CD a thousand times on the floor o
f Sam's high school bedroom, dicking around when they should've been doing homework. "And Pillowfits."
"Oh my God, that album changed my fucking life." Danny sagged against the wall and fanned himself, pretty sure his skin was about to melt off. "They had that song about drinking water when you're hungover, and every time I'm drunk it gets stuck in my head. And the riff was sick. We could be that."
Sam was still staring at the card in disbelief. Finally, she seemed to shake himself free of her trance.
"Well, it's not a done deal, but—" She reached into Danny's back pocket and pulled out his wallet. "If you lose this before we get a chance to call, I am actually going to murder you."
Danny believed it, too.
Chapter Four
Danny was so, so pleasantly drunk. Around him, his friends were also pleasantly drunk, or at least they seemed to be, since everyone was laughing and falling over each other. Erika Jones's business card had been passed around a few times, but now it was firmly stuck in Danny's wallet again, where no one could get their grubby hands on it.
He was waiting on the bar for another round of beers when the only thing that could improve this night happened: Jiyoon Lee leaned in next to him.
"You look pretty pleased with yourself," Jiyoon said.
"I might be having the best fucking night of my life. Can I get you a drink?"
"That's okay. You guys… put on a good show tonight." Jiyoon pursed his lips and then smiled in a way that told Danny he was sacrificing a small amount of dignity to be here. He grinned back, trying to channel immense but uncreepy gratitude through his giddy daze.
"Hey, thanks. I noticed you actually watching this time."
"I did."
"Let me guess… still not your type of music?"
Jiyoon bit his lip. He looked like he was trying to hold back a laugh. "It's different from what I usually listen to. But not bad—" He started when Danny clapped him on the shoulder.
"S'all right. You gave it a try. You're free now."
"Oh, I'm not free. You'll be seeing me again. I mean, not just in class."
"Aww, come on. I don't wanna talk you out of coming to our shows, but Devin could make an exception, right? If you really don't wanna be here."
