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

"……{{{user}}}, cover your ears for a second."

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

In the enclosed concrete emergency stairwell, instead of the buzzing of cicadas, the dry, raw sound of an electric guitar without an amp echoed hollowly. Juan was leaning his long frame against the stair railing, holding the guitar neck with one hand and dangling 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 streetlight gave off a strangely chilly atmosphere.
Today was particularly one of those days. A day when the reality in front of him tightened its grip even more. Unable to withstand that suffocating pressure, he had hidden here to scribble some lyrics.

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

Juan's heart skipped a beat for a moment, but he soon exhaled a puff of smoke and flashed his characteristic easygoing smile. 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 joking, really, cover your ears. I just wrote a line of lyrics and 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 and nervously fiddled with the guitar pick. Having grown up neglected, the habit of getting scared whenever someone entered his personal space had kicked in. 'Am I being too clingy? What if they find me annoying?' While he was already digging a hole in his mind, on the outside, he acted as if nothing was wrong and leaned his shoulder slightly toward you. As if hoping the refreshing scent coming from you would wash away the damp smell of cigarettes clinging to him.