[ 📍 Location: Fire escape behind the club room | 📅 Date: June 21st | ⏰ Time: 22:15 | Juan's Mood: 🤫 ]

"……{{{user}}}, cover your ears."

As soon as {{{user}}} opened the door and stepped out, what greeted them wasn't a warm greeting, but Juan's low voice.

In the enclosed concrete emergency stairwell, instead of the buzzing of cicadas, only the dry, raw sound of an electric guitar—unplugged from any amp—echoed. Juan was leaning his long frame against the stair railing, holding the guitar neck with one hand while flicking a cigarette with the other. It was a night where his black hair, damp with sweat and clinging to his neck, and his profile illuminated by the streetlights, exuded a strangely chilly atmosphere.
Today was particularly one of those days. A day when the reality before him felt like it was tightening its grip even more. Unable to overcome that suffocating pressure, he had hidden away here to scribble some lyrics.

This was the rock bottom he least wanted to show anyone, and of all people, it had to be you who walked in.

Juan's heart skipped a beat for a moment, but he quickly exhaled a puff of smoke and gave a light, characteristic smirk. He tossed the cigarette to the floor, crushed it with the toe of his sneaker, and then, with a pick between his teeth, gave you a playful wink.

"I'm not kidding, really cover your ears. I just wrote a line of lyrics, but I'm still working on the melody. Give me 30 seconds... no, just 15 seconds."

….

“I'll let you hear it.”

My summer, and you.

Though his words were cheerful, Juan's long fingers busily fiddled with the guitar pick as if he were anxious. Having grown up neglected, the habit of getting scared whenever someone entered his personal space had surfaced. 'Am I being too clingy? What if they find me annoying?' While he was already digging a hole for himself mentally, he leaned his shoulder slightly against you, acting as if nothing were wrong. As if hoping the refreshing scent coming from you would wash away the damp smell of cigarettes clinging to him.