strings and strokes

Squid Game (TV 2021)
F/F
G
strings and strokes
Summary
hyun-mi struggling artists au đź‘…đź‘…đź‘…
Note
hi im sorry this isn't that well, im just getting back into writing after a few years, but I loved these two sm and wanted to write an au for them💔💔More to be added very soon btw!!!

Both struggling artists, one music, one art. Never realized how badly they needed each other.

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She was a part of a small band, not super well known, but known enough to where they had shows; she played the guitar. Has been since they debuted.

Young-mi learned the acoustic guitar at a rather young age, learning from her dad who’s passed. She continues to play in his honor and starts the band as well in his honor. They had gotten together as a joke, but it later became serious, and they began releasing real music.

They started off small but grew significantly fast. She was constantly praised for her skills, more so than the rest of the band members.

But she recently began slacking off, more so due to the fact that her father’s death finally began taking a toll on her. It hurt her when he passed, yes, but it’s hurting significantly worse these past few days. She didn’t know why, but she could barely get out of bed.

She was almost kicked off a few times before her members finally understood and let her slack off for a few days or weeks.

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Hyun-ju, on the other hand, was a small but known artist. She mainly focused on portraits of others, sometimes scenery she found pretty.

She was a nice, caring person whom everyone loved to hear from. She, for some reason, never had people pay to have her art pieces. She believed everyone deserved to have pieces for free, which is how she’s made money at all. People just.. paid her for being nice, pretty much. She's always trying to deny it, but never won those battles.

Recently, she grew less and less motivated to make anything, causing her small “business” to lower in customers, causing her to lose some money. She had enough to keep going, she has a side job as a waitress at a small restaurant, but she barely had enough to pay rent to where she was living.

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I tossed and turned all night. I barely got any sleep.. yet they expect me to just play like nothing wrong. God, sometimes I wish I could just snap; but I can’t afford that. They’ll boot me off like I wasn’t the one who made them who they are today.

A knock on my door startled me, seeing as I wasn’t wearing much; just a short cut top and short-shorts.

“Ah, uh.. young-mi? It’s 9:00, you said you’d be up at 9:15 to practice.”

The voice muttered awkwardly, barely peeking in to see my messed up hair or - just me being a mess in general.

“Yup.”

I responded, shooing them away, moving the covers off and standing up with a stretch.

They left me alone, finally giving me time to get ready.

I changed first, changing into a black t-shirt, jeans that were too big for me, a belt, and some bracelets my dad made for me when I was younger.

Next was my entire face/hair.

I tied my hair back, putting on a headband to keep the face washed from getting into it. Just then, I splashed my face with hot water, squirted some wash on my hands, rubbed it together, then rubbed it on my face.

I grabbed a washcloth and waited a minute before getting it wet with hot water, then wiping the wash off my face. It certainly woke me up.

I untied my hair after drying it. It was just about shoulder length, a bit shorter.

Grabbed my comb, combed it out, didn’t have to do much. I showered the previous night, so I’d have to shower tonight. Those would have to be my favorite part of the day. They always calm me down.

I tied my hair back again, moving my bangs to the side.

Another knock.

“It’s 9:30, hurry up.”

“Give me a second, I’m almost done, jeez.”

A faint sigh was heard before they began departing back to the group.

Finally, I grabbed my guitar case, hung it on my shoulder, and began leaving the room to practice.

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I've been working since 6:30 a.m. Waiting table after table, growing more tired with each one.

They’re lucky she’s a nice person. She was pretty well built, physically and mentally, and could take on anything she put her mind to. Minus.. her artwork currently.

“Hyun-ju, we need to talk.”

My manager snapped, causing me to flinch as he was right behind me unknowingly.

Obviously, I snapped around to see him with anger plastered all over his face, but I wasn't sure why. I did everything he’d asked - or so I thought.

“Hm?”

He took me to a secluded place in the restaurant, my wrist in his hand, tightly enclosed, giving me an uncomfortable feeling.

“You’re done. You’re done here.”

He scowled at me, shoving my wrist down with probably too much force.

“What?? Why - I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me? I don’t und-“

“We don’t need you.”

The man interrupted, keeping that same look on his face; seemingly pure hatred.

Obviously, I had changed my demeanor instantly, from fear to anger. I was lost, annoyed, and upset. Not only had I not had the motivation to paint, but now I had no other way of making money.

Thankfully, I had paid rent already, but now I was unsure of how she’d buy food, clothes, etc.

I scoffed at him, shoving past him, purposely bumping into him with as much force as he used to shove my hand away.

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“God, you keep messing up, young-mi. What the hell is up with you??”

A band member demanded, giving her a dirty look and putting the drum sticks down.

I didn’t answer, rolling my eyes in return to his question.

“Lay off her. She’s going through something, man.”

Another snapped, giving him the same look the other one gave me. Causing him to just stare as if he was just stabbed by the other dude.

“Her dad’s death like 6 years ago?? Yeah, tough shit, but it’s done and over with. She needs to get her head in the game.”

I scoffed, standing up, leaving the guitar by my spot in the garage and stepping towards him.

“Fuck you. You have no idea what it’s like. You have two healthy, living parents with rich grandparents.”

He looked offended, as if I had just called him a slur or something..

Anyways, I decided to just leave for a while. You know, to “cool off.”

I slammed the garage door, grabbing my shoes and jacket. After I put them on, I went through the front door, my hands in my pockets as I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Sure, it was over 5 years ago, but it hurts.

I never knew why it was hitting me so hard now. I never understood why it was hurting as soon as I had my life on track.