This chapter was previously a oneshot known as 'Life Problems'. It was originally a prequel to the main story, so I decided to update it and roll it into the events of Hairdresser. I hope you enjoy it - and it should act as the transition chapter between Mike and Kyanna's perspective. The Kyu fans should have a good time reading this one, too.

Love Fairy

The Bar and Lounge was quiet at this late time of night. Only a couple of disinterested patrons remained within the four walls of old oaken-style drinking establishment. A couple of students brought their drunken glances up toward the football game on the box - while a couple of young ladies in extremely short skirts droned on about their boyfriends for the third hour straight.

Mike sighed - his eyes of green connecting with a friend. Medium-brown hair and stern features. Mark, the manager of his band and somebody he'd come to trust greatly over the past few years. He'd called Mister Winters here on important business - or that's at least what he'd said earlier on the phone.

"The band's finances aren't looking good, Mike. If we don't pick up some money in the next few months then we'll be in some serious debt." Mark sighed as he removed his long leather coat - folding it across the back of his chair. "The recording studio is asking for the money we owe them... money I'm afraid we don't have at present."

He ran a tired hand through his gelled brown hair before reaching with one of his chunky hands into the pocket of his tight fitting leather pants. After producing a flush silver lighter, he rolled the menthol sat on the table closer and put it in his mouth. A flick of the lighter added to the small array of ambient noise across the length of the bar.

Mike's heart sank. He brought his eyes of green up from his glass of firewater, watching nervously as his friend took a drag of the cigarette. There was something about the way he said it - and the disappointed look upon his gruff features. He sat there, resting a hand against his messy sideburns while he took deep drags of nicotine, Mark always did that when he was in deep thought about about something. Their two years in community college together had taught that much.

"Fuck... this isn't good," Winters cursed, downing the rest of his drink. He needed to keep calm, keep things under control. "What can we do? There has to be something... we can't just let things end like this."

The blond singer felt his emotions twist, rising to the verge of quiet panic as Mark snapped his attention away from his smoke. "I have an idea. Remember how a few months prior you tried singing Rock songs? The crowd seemed to enjoy that. How about you switch styles again? Your vocals are wasted on screaming Metal. You have such a wide range. That much is clear."

Yes, he remembered, alright. The memory of it alone was enough to make him paw the side of his face as he pondered. The thought of changing styles brought a nervy twinge to the stomach. "I don't know," Mike replied in support of his feelings. "Are you sure a change in direction will be what we need?"

"It might be enough to gain more interest," Markus answered with a nod as he slid a little leather notebook across the table. "Take a look at this…. I kept a spare copy for you…."

The sight of the book peaked Mike's interest a little. He gently flipped open the front page between taking a sip of his whiskey. The ice clanged against the side of the glass as he placed it back down, and thumbed through the first couple of pages. The contents, they were enough to make his weary eyes widen in surprise. "Please don't tell me this is our bank book for the band…."

Mark stood up with a loud groan as he flexed his tense arms, "I'll get us another round of drinks while you take a moment to read."

As the band manager made his way to the bar, Mike waved him off, "Same again, on the rocks please."

Alone for a moment, Mikey brought his attention toward the leather-bound book. There was a lot of red pen across the front four pages. The sight of it caused an exhausted sigh as he slumped his head into his hands. This wasn't good. Red pen in a book about money left a lot to be desired. Thumbing through a few more of the pages only made the sick feeling rise higher and higher.

"We're so close to going into the red right now," Mike whispered aloud as he read the last bank draft. Too much red. Way too much red.

"Mark's right…. If we don't get some good ticket sales in the next couple of months then we're gonna be in big trouble. We need to do something... Dammit, Mike... think. Think."

The clank of a glass upon the solid wooden table snapped Mike back to reality. His eyes caught the sight of another whiskey with ice sitting in front of him. He didn't even take a moment to think, slamming back a hearty gulp. Boy, did he need it right now.

"Got you a double," Mark sat back down with a small smile and fired up another cigarette. "I can tell by the look on your face that you've been reading the book."

"Thanks, man," Mike sighed. How were they going to get out of this one? A couple more bad selling concerts and it would be the end of them.

'I don't know how I feel about making a change to our musical direction. It's out of my comfort zone...'

Moreover, did the rest of the band know? "Have you told the twins yet... or Jamie? We're in deep shit here..."

"No," Mark resonded with a brief shake of the head. He looked disinterestedly toward the football game on the television before his eyes came back to Mike. "You're the first one I've mentioned this to. You've been my best friend these past few years, after all. That, and I didn't want to bother Neil and Steve while they are relaxing on vacation. As for Jamie? I planned to tell him later this week."

Neil and Steve Grey - the band's guitarists and one of them doubled as backing vocals. Twin brothers that Markus and Mike met back in community college. Lastly, Jamie Alburn, their sound guy and support with mixing their music. After graduation, the four of them pooled their money to follow their dreams of performing, all while Mark managed them. The complete set of five all lived in this lively town now, an ideal place to play because of its small treasure trove of nightlife; clubs; bars and even the college campus. Moreover, a couple of smaller towns nearby gave the band a few different venues to try out as well.

"I don't want to see Third Betrayal go under, Markus," Mike thumped his first against the table in frustration. Their band name resonated with a bittersweet ring to it. Now there was some irony. Their passion for music was their driving force, but in the end, it felt as though they'd been betrayed by their money troubles.

The bank book made the scale of their problem all too clear. "It's going to take a solid three, maybe four grand to get us out of this…."

Mark nodded stiffly as he downed the last of his chaser. "Look," he continued, trying to push on with a more upbeat tone to his voice. "We've still got a couple of months before we need to cover our fees. I say that we take a calculated risk... one I'm more than willing to assist you with. I'm quite willing to float my own money as well."

Mikey gave a faint nod and rattled the ice in his glass, "It's okay for us to do that, Mark. Your family's loaded... and if I really need it I've got cash bonds left behind from mother's recording contract... but what about the others? They might not have the luxury of throwing out a grand."

"We'll have to figure that out as we go along," Mark gave a cool smile and stood from his seat. "I have to head home in a moment. I have a new roommate and accomidating them is becoming quite the task. However, take a moment to listen before you shoot me down, Winters."

"My idea involved us bringing out some of the more rock-focused music you've made and putting together a demo tape. Think about it, okay? A change in direction... well... it might be the only way to dig ourselves out of this hole. I know I'm repeating myself, but I am only doing so because it's important."

"That'll only cost us more money," replied Mike with a defeated exhale. "Thanks though, Mark. You always have an answer... even to the most fucked up situations."

The brown-haired gentleman reached for his coat and slung it over his shoulder. "I pride myself on such a thing. You don't get very far in my household without having to outwit people. Anyway... I'll call you in a couple of days. Give it some thought."

Winters checked his watch - another hour gone. The bar crept ever closer to closing time. Alone again, the singer remained slumped in the corner booth with a rainy frown. He thumbed through the bankbook for a second time; his sluggish fingers flicked over each page until they arrived at the back.

"If the band goes under I won't have any choice but to go back home." This town, it was his home now. It had been for a little under the past year. Greenville, his hometown - the place he used to live with his aunt and uncle, it was in the middle of nowhere. It felt more like a prison to somebody with creative desires.

"For fuck sakes... I can't go back there... No way am I going to wittle my life away working part-time in one of Uncle James' music stores. That... and I'd have Lillian to contend with again. I care about her a lot... but damn she's a handful."

The young man dragged himself up from his seat - feet moving in the direction of bathroom. The smell of piss and nicotine flooded his nostrils as he entered.

Man, he looked a sorry sight right now. Mike stood, unmoving for the longest time - staring into the crooked mirror on the dirty back wall. A scoff of frustration slipped out. Nothing but the sad reflection of a lonely young man gazed back. A pair of empty green eyes, devoid of shine; messy bright blond hair, scruffy facial grooming, and baggy jeans.

"My folks always said I only ever used half my ability. I take something partway and just stop."

There was an air of desperation within his words, alright. With nobody around, he was finally able to think. All of the other patrons were long gone.

How many times had his uncle said that only a desperate man prayed? You had to make your own luck, and you had to make your own opportunity.

No, that wasn't the case for Mike. There was more to life than simple bad luck or good fortune, right? Yeah, there had to be. That's why it was so easy to take everything to heart, for better or worse.

"I hope there's some kind of God listening... any damn god…. Please... send me a fuckin angel." Mike pleaded in a withered whisper, his hands held together tightly, "I don't want to lose what I've got… I cant! Not when I still have so much to prove! I don't care what it takes... Help me out here."

Nothing apart from the echo of his own voice bounced off the walls. He sighed, defeated. Of course nobody was listening. A desperate prayer for a desperate young man.

'What am I doing standing here like this? I look like such a dickhead...'

A bitter chuckle escaped Mike's lips as he opened his eyes again, "Damn, I'm hopeless. Screw it... it's time to go home."

Something stopped the washed up singer dead in his tracks on the way back to the table.

"A girl?"

She sat in his booth with a pair of drinks. Her thumbs wrapped around the length of her glass as she patiently caressed the sides. At a glance, she looked like she was waiting for somebody. Confused, Mike made his way back across to his seat and took up a place opposite the young woman.

"Can I help you with something?" A quiet, nervous question. His eyes fell upon her gorgeous form. A light brown dress that clung to her slender body - damn! Just the sight of her was enough to make his heart race, his cheeks burning red hot.

"Sorry," the girl giggled warmly, running one of her petite hands through her dark brown hair. "I didn't realize you were sat here!"

Another giggle, followed up with a happy little smile, "Mind if I relax over here and share a drink with you?"

Mike froze up. Indeed, his brain sped at a thousand miles a minute. "S-sure," he nodded, eyes hidden in shyness. "I-I'm on my own right now... so you can stick around if you want. Let me go get another."

"Awwww! That's sweeet, but no need. Here! You can have one of mine." She spoke with a smile - sliding one of her glasses ascoss the table.

Mike looked with a raised brow - his lips caressing the side of the glass as he took a tiny sip. Whiskey on the rocks. "You know your liquor. This is twelve-year, the expensive stuff... you can taste it."

"Hehe! Of course!" The mysterious young lady nodded like a cheerful puppy - reaching over to clank her glass against Mike's. "Cheers dude!"

"Same to you," the musician uttered quietly - still so overwhelmed by the atmosphere that the words fell flat as they rolled off his tongue. "Thanks… for the drink I mean. What's your name? If you don't mind me asking."

"Kyu. My name's Kyu, hotshot," She clasped her hands together, tilting her head to the side with a wide grin. "You're welcome, by the way."

Something about this felt a little off. A girl, one so amazingly pretty at that, arriving with drinks in hand. Still, it'd be rude to brush off her goodwill. "Mike," the blond spoke softly, "I'm Mike... Mike Winters."

"Nice to meet you, dude!" Kyu came back with a 'thumbs up', humming to herself cheerfully.

Silence, it followed swiftly once the introductions were done with. The air - damn it felt so tense. The idea of speaking so openly to a girl that excessively pretty brought a nervous twitch to the stomach. Mike needed to do something, anything to break this tension.

'Oh shit! How could I be such an idiot?'

That's when he noticed it - green eyes focused in surprise. The bankbook - he'd been so distracted earlier that he left it out here in the open. No time to lose. He reached forward, fingers outstretched to grab the offending article - sliding it out of sight in the pocket of his jeans.

'I hope she wasn't sat there reading it while I was moping around like that... God I'd never live it down...'

"Don't you worry," Kyu spoke intuitively, "I didn't go looking. That'd be a pretty shitty thing to do, right?"

'Thank fuck for that...'

A mental sigh graced Mike - an invisible weight lifting from his shoulders.

"So," he continued quietly. Time to move away from the dreaded situation of money. "What brings a girl like you here? You're way too classy for a place like this."

Talk about putting things lightly. A girl as good looking as Kyu could've done far better for herself. There were far nicer places in town to drink.

She simply laughed and took a little sip from her glass. Damn, she never stopped smiling, "A friend of mine, Venus… she told me the booze in here was really good! Thought I'd come see for myself. Turns out she was right."

First there was Kyu, and now Venus? Mike smirked. "You and your friend have interesting names... I'll give you that."

Curious, Mike's eyes wandered to get a better look at his cheery companion. She was short and slim with pale skin and extremely bright eyes. Her skin had this flawless shine to it - almost like magic. It was impossible for Mike to put into words. He couldn't quite place it, but there was a special feeling this girl gave off that made her seem different somehow. Different in a good way. Different in a way that made him feel hopeful.

"You look like you're having fun."

Kyu's voice caused him to flinch - his gaze quickly retreating as he pulled his drink closer, "Sorry about that. I was just… watching the game." Everything flared for a moment - the heat rising under Mike's skin. He knew this sensation well. A sudden wave of drunkness - it cascaded through his head. Hours of slamming back liquor were finally starting to catch up.

'Damn I think I've had one too many... '

"The game finished fifteen minutes ago, dude, but it's okay, I forgive you." Kyu's voice chimed back in - grabbing his attention, the edges of his eyesight blurring in the alcohol-induced haze.

Mike nervously fumbled - bringing his hands together in a desperate attempt to find a half-decent response. He wanted to speak but the words would't come. T

Kyu giggled - all the while his cheeks burned hotter and hotter. Talk about embarrassing.

A loud chime - no, the ringing of a bell from across the room. A tall man in a shirt and pants stood behind the bar with a tired glaze across his eyes, "Finish your drinks please. We're closing in ten minutes. Don't worry Mike," he continued with a knowing curve of the lips, "You can come back tomorrow... we're not going anywhere."

It was a request Mike felt all too familiar with, especially having knocked back booze at the Bar and Lounge so many times before. This place was almost a second home when he wasn't with his bandmates. So, with little else to be had, he downed the last of his drink.

"About time I head out. Thanks for the drink, Kyu."

Standing brought another task entirely, his head swishing and swaying from left to right. Damn, this was heavy. The door wasn't too far away. One front in front of the other, Mike kept moving. However, he hadn't counted on tangling with a stool near the bar.

His balance surrendered, the floor coming swiftly into view, but somehow, someway, he didn't hit the floor.

"Daaammnnn... looks like you've been drinking all night. C'mon. Let me help you outside."

A helpful voice and an equally helpful pair of hands, saved him from the fall.

"Don't worry, champ. I gotcha! Here, put your weight on me." Kyu brought her arm around Mike's toned chest and guided him as he went. She gave a teasing wink, caressing the tips of her fingers against exposed, skin. "Are you going to be alright heading home by yourself? You look totally trashed, Mikey."

"Yeaaah I'll be... fine. You just met me. No need to go out of your way dragging me around."

As the pair arrived outside, Kyu stopped him for a moment. There she was, staring up at the moon in the cloudless sky, "Seriously, it's cool. I don't want to see you on the news tomorrow because you fell into a ditch or something. Let me walk you back."

That said, Mikey was too sauced at this point to really put together an argument against her. That, and the cool night air felt lovely against the low burn of alcohol across his forehead. "There's a pickup point for the cabs not far from here. Take a left at the bottom of the street."

One foot ahead of the other, and with Kyu in place as a careful escort, the duo made their way through the streets in the dead of night. There was silence - but Mike couldn't help but feel at ease. Something about Kyu felt calming, comforting.

Kyu let out a hopeless little sigh and glanced at Mikey, helping him place one foot in front of the other. "This one's gonna take some serious work, Venus."

"Did you say something?" Mike asked - legs struggling to keep him upright.

"Nope! It's nothing, bro! Don't worry about it." Kyu smiled, bringing him to a stop at the corner of the street. "Let's just focus on getting you home safe."

Across the street they went - the younger looking lady drawing glances as she held the larger blond man in support. She sighed, Mike coming to a stop as she propped him up against a street lamp.

Mike's eyes came wide in surprise. Was Kyu's hair pink a moment ago? Not to mention her eyes - they sparkled.

"You, Mike Winters," Kyu grinned, giving him a playful pat on the head. "You're gonna be my greatest project yet. Mark my words, dude! By the time I'm done... you'll be the greatest playboy EVER... that's a promise."

Yet Mikey struggled with her words - faltering with a quet rasp of intoxicated breath. No, her hair was brown! Dammit, he'd had way too much to drink.

'But I could've sworn... for a second... Kyu's hair was pink! No? Fuck it... Must be my imagination...'

To be continued...

I would like to thank you for taking the time to read this. If you enjoyed it then please feel free to leave me some feedback. I value the opinions of all my readers and I'd really like to hear what you think. As always keep on supporting Huniepop and Huniecam Studio. I'll see you in the next chapter.

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