LN1’s Wife

it was way past midnight.

you were in your studio, spending the fourth night in a row there. the low hum of the air conditioning and the looping track playing from your earphones as your only company.

you were ardently standing there, having a staring contest with the microphone. a side of your huge headphones covering one ear while the other one pulled just slightly above it, not fully concealing the other just in case somebody called out. 

[2:24 am] myg: you up?

the text interrupts the quietude of your studio that had been marinating for quite some time now followed by a few notifications after.

[2:24 am] myg: i sent you something. let me know when you get it and let me know [2:25 am] myg: what you think about it

you sigh. you weren't particularly aware of the time until he texted. only then had you realized how late it was; accounting for the dead building that crept past your studio. but the nature of your job had you getting used to adapting a temporary nocturnal lifestyle that involved sleeping at 9:00 am in the morning and staying up until 4:00 am the next day. you knew it wasn't healthy; you weren't doing the right thing. but honestly, who's ever done the right thing especially when they were so immersed in their work?

you pick up your fingers to type in a reply.

[2:27 am] you: heyy [2:27 am] you: can’t right now. quite busy ):

[2:28 am] myg: hey pretty

his immediate reply planted a smile on your face.

[2:29 am] myg: you at the studio?

[2:30 am] you: yeo [2:30 am] you: yep

[2:32 am] myg: ok i'll drop by [2:32 am] myg: just need to wrap up

you gather your things and exit the recording booth, stumbling on a few things scattered on the floor. you take a look around your studio and discover how filthy your living situation had become for the past few weeks. filthy was probably an overstatement; you liked to keep things clean, get unnecessary things out of the way. but this was quite grimy compared to what you were used to. should probably clean up before he arrives, you thought.

but you were tired. still not quite in the right mood to do all the tidying—picking up the plastic bottles, rearranging some of the wires that were left tangled on the floor as well as the pieces of clothing left on the couch. he was probably busy, and probably wouldn’t come around for another few hours was, your rough guess.

and so you let it be. grabbing your laptop and sit on the couch, pushing away some of the clutter, deciding to do the rest of your work there instead. but that turned out to be a bad idea because just a few minutes in, your eyes started to get heavy and you started to lean on the couch more often.  a week's worth of sleep was chasing you and decided that now was the time to pay your debt.

you should have also know better that whatever yoongi says, yoongi does; because you hear somebody input the password to your door and it opens a few seconds later to reveal a yoongi.

 "hey," he peeks into the door, voice quiet. you could hear the slight strain it had. he was probably working as much as you were before he came.

 "hey." your eyes follow him as he switches his outside shoes for inside ones, not anticipating a visitor, at least not for a couple more hours. yet you still forced a flat, evidently tired, smile out of your face.

 you tear a piece of your earphones out of your ear, legs crossed, laptop open, and hair a mess, as if it had been ruffled around or pulled, before in desperation of extracting an idea from your brain.

he carefully settles in. the familiar natural scent he had mixing with his perfume creeps into the room. a bag in one hand, the other on the door frame, guiding him as he goes inside.

 "you ate yet?"

 "i think," you answer without looking at him and you scoot over to the side, gathering the scarves, jacket, and other clothes to make room for him to sit down.

 "i'm asking if you ate." he chuckles, amused at your attempt to dodge the question, twist it in a way that makes sense but also doesn't.

 he sits next to you, clothed arm brushing against your shoulders. the bag he was holding with his left hand settles down onto the table, right next to her notebook and a pile of paper, discarded lyrics you couldn't quite let go of just yet.

"heard from hobi that you might still be in here."

"hmm," a mindless reply. you were tired.

he gradually leans forward, looking at what you had on your screen for a few seconds before quickly batting his eyes to look at you instead. you could feel his breathing: slow, deliberate, exhausted. you pursed your lips, trying to think of something, anything else other than the presence next to you.

how you wished something as simple as a look from him wouldn't throw you off so much, but it does, and he knows it.

you give up, sighing. you lean back, resting your head against the wall. he takes this chance and gently removes your hand from the mouse, taking it into his, cautiously moving the track back to the beginning. he takes just a quick glance at you to which you nod at for consent, and plays it.

the sound fills the small space, clearly unfinished—evidently spent. it sounded like what you had envisioned, but just not in a way that satisfied you, still missing something.

 "not bad. good enough for you to take a break." he comments hoping to sway you, peering at your reaction.

 you grimace.

 you turn to him and see that he had a look on his face. it was quick, but it was there. one that you knew all too well. just confirming something that you had been trying to put off for so long now: you were burnt out, and you desperately needed a break.

 "god, this is fucking with me, really." you murmur, taking your hands to your face, pushing some stray hair away and taking a large inhale, exhausted.

this was one thing that you had in common. both similarly enamoured in creating, making sure every second in a piece had its purpose. something that was worth talking about. sewing beats and melodies into precise proportions that felt comfortable and snug but ones that also suffocated and strangled when it needed to.

however, you also periodically became too absorbed that in return you just shut everything off—especially him. not knowing when to return; only ever stopping when he has nothing left to give, pushing past the limit. you had always been so conscious about it, pointing it out whenever you see the him spiral.

but sometimes it's just too much.

and he doesn't always have the right words to say that he was descending again. dubious on how he should tell you that it was getting bad again. so bad that whenever he sinks, he unknowingly brings you with him.

it happens frequently than he would have wanted and starts with a few nights spent overtime in the studio that turn into weeks, bad days that come one after the other.

it occasionally brings out the worst in him. But no matter how difficult he can get, how critical—especially to himself, you just kept on understanding; bringing your light, sharing it for the both of you. never asking nor wanting anything in return.

and it had become yoongi's silent oath to not let you wander the same path. not wanting to see you in situations he has experienced before. loving you in quiet, covert ways—the way he knows how.

 "you should eat." he suggests, yawning as he stretches his arms.

 "what's this?" you pry open the bag and immediately got blown away by the savory smell you've always had during nights like these but was too tired to make it yourself: mandu-guk.

you sigh dramatically, exaggeratedly, and turn to face yoongi who was radiating nervous energy; he knew what was coming.

all of a sudden, you take his face and cup it in your hands, looking at him like how you would encourage a child who took their first steps. you tell him how grateful you are in a melodramatic way and immediately pepper his face with kisses, leaving him squirming underneath. 'yah, yah, stop!' he scolds with the biggest smile on his face.

he absolutely loathes receiving physical affection—or any kind of affection, really. and would prefer to show it through small gestures, the complete opposite of how you were. and so, it became your mission that whenever you do, you would crank it up ten times more to sway him, purposefully annoying him, despite finding it quite cringe as well.

but seeing the big smile on this man tells you he's right exactly where he wants to be. he smiles, proudly. deep inside this is what he came here for.

you eventually settle after wrestling him down with your hugs and appreciation as he questions his life choices beside you, while you enthusiastically open up your food.

you pick up utensils he's included inside the bag and take a bite, and then a few more.

"good?"

you just nod and give him a thumbs up, savoring the well-curated taste in your mouth.

it's your pout and the puppy eyes that come with it that does him. you try to trigger any kind of reaction in him just for fun. jutting down your lower lip and bat your eyelashes the best you can, as you await his reaction: scrunching his face in horror. you complete it with the most ridiculous aegyo voice as well.

"aww, thank you ba-"

"don't" he interjects, but his whole face was completely red. his horror quickly drowned by his laughs, covering his eyes with calloused hands—proof of his hard work. and you try your best to gulp down a giggle but ridiculously fail.

you thought of how lucky he was to have a girl that could make him cackle his heart out ;)

you eagerly consume the meal he made just for you while he watches, like a mother who says 'i'm full just watching you eat' when you invite him to eat with you—that line, he actually says.

in the meantime, he silently starts to clear out the table bombarded with paper scraps and plastic bottles that should have been discarded a long time ago. his arms reach out past you and cautiously clears them out, making sure to not disrupt you.

when you tried to dismiss him, saying he doesn't need to and that you will be the one that'll do it later, his brows furrow and insists.

"you're overworking yourself. take a break, hmm?" he says, and asks you which things are still of use to not mistakenly throw them away.

you eventually join him after finishing the majority of your meal, clearing out the clutter and finally tending to your precious cables left tangled on the floor now that you had the motivation and energy to do so.

moments later, you two were back on the couch, peacefully enjoying each other's company. your studio was already looking good. not spotless clean, but better than what it was a few minutes ago.

crossing your arms, resting a leg on top of yoongi's, and leaning your head on top of his shoulders, the temporary tranquility gave you a chance to rest your eyes.

he planted a kiss on your forehead, resting his head atop yours. slowly, you could feel the built-up stress and exhaustion evaporate as you finally had the chance to bask in comfort and surround yourself in a familiar scent.

it was a challenge to try and not fall asleep under such conditions. you were so close to just ignoring the work demanding your attention and drifting off to sleep, but your mind remained locked into the laptop just right in front of you, remembering the deadline pdogg had suggested when tracks should be submitted.

he somehow sensed this and started tracing shapes on your arm to comfort you.

"can't sleep."

"i know. should i turn the lights off?"

you groan.

"no, that's- i have so much to work on, still." you reply, gently freeing yourself from his embrace, although you didn't want to, and directed your attention back to chords and melodies.

yoongi sighs. he learned a long time ago that it's no use trying to convince you to try and rest because you would always decline. stubbornness and persistence being some of the things you also had common.

he does what be can do instead and asks what it was that he could get for you, to which you answered coffee. that was the only thing keeping you from passing out asleep and crashing on your couch. the majority of your bloodstream was probably pure caffeine at this point.

he happily obliges. sitting there, observing, and giving suggestions whenever you asked for it.

you take a look at him every now and then to see him battling his own demons as well: the urge to doze off. you chuckle to yourself, seeing his determination to stay up and be with you, despite your protests.

later on, as other people—normal, sane people anyway—start to get ready for work, you were still wrapping up to go back home, finally. you let out one last sigh in defeat, and crash on top of yoongi, quietly squeezing in, not even wanting to go back home just yet.