Kaoru was frustrated.
Well, okay, maybe frustrated wasn't the right word. He was a lot of things at the moment, and he felt that frustrated sort of minimized all his feelings into one condensed blob that felt like it could just burst at the seams at a moment's notice. Which was what he did with his emotions anyway, so yeah. Maybe frustrated did work, but he felt like a lot more.
He was annoyed and pissed off and exhausted and overworked and underpaid and was going to deck the next person that looked at him wrong in this shitty little live house.
There were a million and one reasons he could be feeling this way, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he could easily identify the root of these specific emotions. A simple really, so simple that anyone with a brain might have wondered why he hadn't done anything about it yet until he admitted that it was abso fucking lutely his father.
This shitty job at the live house was one mandated by his father, otherwise, he'd have quit within a week, and this was his fifth night in a row working. He had been told he'd have tonight off to himself, and had actually been looking forward to taking the day and surfing because the weather was supposed to hold nicely for waves and it would have been the perfect opportunity.
But then his dad said one of the other employees had gotten sick and he had to take the shift, and so here he was, dealing with an annoying crowd for what felt like hours as he kicked back in a chair backstage. He was doing his job, sure, but it was the bare minimum. On any normal night, he was a wonderful host, taking care of the guests and making sure they were doing alright. But when it came to the nights like these? Well, he didn't care enough. They took care of themselves, and he knew he'd just have a mess to clean when they were out. He'd likely blame it on the people performing, but he knew it was more than that. The sort of delinquents that they seemed to draw in. Whatever.