sparks fly

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"Will you please stop fidgeting? You look great," San encouraged.

Yeosang had been functioning at the level of an over caffeinated college student with a twelve page essay due in 24 hours.

Who only had three words.

And two of them were his name.

Except the way he was feeling had nothing to do with imminent test failure and everything to do with his audition today.

He was nervous. Really nervous.

The past 48 hours had turned him into a wreck. Like he was stuck in slow motion at the exact moment before the train collided and hurdled off the track into an abyss.

Yeosang tugged at the sleeves of his shirt as San unfastened the very top button. The faded blue jean fabric of the shirt sat neatly on his shoulders. The long sleeves were undone at the wrists, making the look more lax to accompany the khaki joggers tucked into worn charcoal boots.

He ran his fingers through the others' slightly gelled hair to create "stylish chaos" as he had described.

San was right though, his friend did look great, an imperial vision of shining light at all times of the day.

He never understood why he was so shy to flaunt his true self in front of others because honestly, his presence was superlative.

Telling him this was done in vain though, and Yeo would just roll his eyes and say that the other was teasing him. He wished someone would come along and tell him what he couldn't.

So naturally, with these kind of thoughts, Yeosang had mild stage fright.

He was looking blankly out into the almost empty space, save for the few staff setting up chairs and the two bartenders that had been muttering to each other.

The shorter of the two looking rather confused and unfamiliar with everything he was being told.

The place didn't open for another four hours so it is not like he had a crowd to play for on his first attempt.

He just needed to impress the owner, which when he thought about it, sounded much worse. He was the only thing standing in his way of having the chance to get his name around.

If opportunity was knocking, this man was standing guard at the door, checking ID's.

San was dragged along for moral support and to ensure Yeosang didn't chicken out before going on stage. Which he was fully capable of doing. So maybe "mild" is an understatement.

They patiently waited for the audition to take place.

Yeo plucked strings on his guitar, turning pegs at the top to tune the instrument while San wandered aimlessly around the luxurious atmosphere.

Utopia was the kind of establishment where business and company owners spent their time outside of work. To drink and smoke in the presence of other executive guests.

The kind of people who owned cars they were driven around in and suits they wore once.

The club that was attached below was usually occupied by the heirs and heiress' of said companies. Twenty year olds, already entitled to the positions their parents sat in now.

When the door finally flew open, a much younger guy than Yeosang was expecting gracefully stepped through the frame.

His midnight hair was parted to the side and swept up out of his face, the longer ends hanging over his eyebrow. A playful smile danced on his lips, as he turned away from another person he didn't recognize that followed just after him.

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