✝︎ SHE IS EVERYTHING AND MORE. . .

If you were to choose a word to describe Jeon Wonwoo’s late-night radio show, it would definitely be melancholic.

Despite being still very young, Wonwoo despised digital media. Ironically, it was precisely digital spaces that had made his small-town radio show into the cult phenomenon it was amongst college kids around the country. 

Mingyu, Wonwoo's best friend who still lived in the city, often sent him pictures of college students wearing CARAT FM hoodies and laptops covered in the radio logo stickers. One time, while going through a blog Mingyu had sent, Wonwoo realized he was called “The Mountain Hermit” and that people curated the show's lives to preserve it.

“These b-sides shouldn't exist! Where does he find them?” one comment said. “If he hadn't played it, it didn't exist,” said another.

Wonwoo had left Seoul after finishing college. Like fate, though he wasn’t fond of people who believed in destiny, he got an offer to take care of the small local station at the jagged peak of Blackmountain, a sprawling structure of wood and copper rods far from the center of town and from everything else Wonwoo was familiar with.

Exactly what he was looking for.

It was both his studio and sanctuary. The top floor was filled with vintage records from his personal collection, and gems left behind by the people who ran the station before him, now more years than he’s been alive. It was both his studio and his sanctuary.

Wonwoo rarely left his forte, which added to the local lore, since he was rarely seen outside and there were no pictures of him online. The couple of pictures on Mingyu's social media were from the early days of school, so he was mostly a mystery to all his followers. And Wonwoo liked it that way. They admired him for the curated music he played for them, not for himself. That was all this was about.

However, there were days when he did venture into the local scene, mostly to restock groceries, in his rusted-out Volvo, also left at the station; perfectly functioning, Wonwoo just had to remove the dust and clean the leather; and whenever he did, the town reacted as if a foreign creature had landed in their town square.

He'd be standing in line to pay for something, or filling up the gas tank, and the conversations would stop. At first, he thought it was just a normal small-town quirk; he was pretty young, and most people in town were no less than fifty, with all the younger people leaving as soon as they were of college age. But when the eerie looks and dead silence persisted every time he showed up, Wonwoo knew something about him, specifically, was the cause.

To the people online, he was a vibe; for the people in Blackmountain, he was a ticking clock.

Wonwoo never noticed how people walked wide circles around him, or how the local police always pulled over to watch him pass. He didn't realize they weren't admiring his youth, or that he was a loner in a town where everyone knew each other's names. They were looking for his shadow, which was still attached, looking at his ears to see if they'd started bleeding yet.

“... And that was a B-side, recorded in 1973, in West Berlin,” He leaned back into his leather chair, boots over the switchboard, microphone really close to his mouth. “They only played 3 shows, and two of them were inside a laundromat. If you listen closely on the two-minute mark, there’s the faint sound of someone dropping coins just in the right moment of dead silence… that’s as raw as it gets. Anyway, I'll take some calls now. Please do not ask for any movie soundtrack.”

The line 1 blinked immediately. 

This surprised him, usually the first caller was way past into the first hour of the show. 

“That was very good, Wonwoo,” your soft voice said on the other side of the line. It was melodic and surprisingly clear, cutting through the usual hiss of the station. “But the pressing you’re playing is from that one show that wasn’t done at a laundromat. The mastering is far too bright, there’s none of the gray vibe we were starting with, don’t you think?” 

Wonwoo blinked, sititng up straight. “I- well, the original pressing is nearly impossible to find, I suppose there could be a mixing in the recordings for this particular one… What’s your name?” He stuttered a little, feeling a bit taken aback. 

“Before I tell you my name, let me tell you about pure raw remasters. Have you heard BSS? They were an experimental trio based in Seoul in the late fifties. Fun fact, they used tuned light bulbs as percussion.” 

Wonwoo’s brows furrowed. He knew everything about the experimental scene of Seoul of the fifties like his own name… nothing in his brain clicked when it came to an experimental trio named BSS. 

“Check the return slot in the mail bin; delivery should have arrived already,” you said. Wonwoo stood up hurriedly, and at the same time, he replied that the lobby was already locked. He had the station open for everyone in case someone decided to visit. That had never happened so far, but he was sure to lock it when he was inside the booth. 

He sprinted out of the booth into the lobby, finding a 7-inch record encased in a sleeve of hand-pressed paper inside the mail slot. No name, no address. Just a small, hand-drawn map of the stars on the center ring. 

He hurried back into the booth, heart thumping loudly inside. “I found the record. How did you send it here? Who are you?”

“A fan of deep cuts, Wonwoo. Play it, let’s see if you can really appreciate curated music as you claim.” 

As he lowered the needle, a sound so fragile and crystalline played. Hauntingly beautiful. He sat there looking straight into the record spinning for a good minute, defining what he was hearing as a color he didn’t know existed yet. He was captivated, but more than that, flustered that he had been out-snobbed. 

“This is incredible. Where did you find this?” 

There was no answer, just the faint rhythmic hum of the dial tone. 

Wonwoo stared at the record, unable to know what to play next for the rest of the night, except this. Mesmerized by the music, he had no way of knowing the entire town of Blackmountain had stopped on its tracks, and was now looking up towards the faint lights emerging from the radio tower. The red neon light ON AIR wasn’t red anymore; it was a pulsing violet. 

Everyone except Jeon Wonwoo realized that the music meant the guest was coming. 

The next few weeks were a slow-motion collapse of Wonwoo’s carefully structured world. He stopped preparing playlists or reading his vintage music magazines. He became possessed, sitting in the booth, staring at the console's flickering lights, waiting for the phone to ring.

Each night you called. And each night, you humbled him.

“Oh, you’re playing an unreleased bass solo from The8?” Your voice sounded close, as if you were sitting right beside him. “Anyhow, that record you can still find on any vintage curated music store in Haicheng, a little bit commercial, don’t you think?”

“Commercial?” Wonwoo replied. Adjusting his glasses and straightening up in the chair. “This is one of the only fifty copies ever made, not even The8 himself knew these were being recorded.”

You sighed. “Right. But have you heard about the five copies made of his record-breaking solo in the monastery in Shanghai, I believe from 1965, the one he got banned from the city for?”

“Of course.” He replied bitterly. “That’s impossible to find, only five tapes, all lost to the authorities who kicked him out.”

“Look under the turntable platter, the one that’s been wobbling for ages…”

Wonwoo lifted the heavy rubber mat of the Technics SL-1200, and tucked in the spindle was a strip of magnetic tape, and there it was.

“How..?” his hands were shaking as he placed the record into the reel-to-reel. When he hit play, what came out was the exact moment when The8, the most prominent bass player of China, made his fingers bleed with a bass solo of more than 10 minutes. Every sound was there. From the bass strings to the wind, and people amazed by this artist rebelling against the authorities that wanted to ban music all those years back. The sound of officials taking him down and telling him to leave the monastery. It was all there until it got cut off the recording, and it was something Wonwoo never imagined to be playing on his small town radio show.

“God. That was…” He leaned into the mic, forgetting thousands of people were listening, and only speaking to you. “You are ruining me. Now my collection seems so… thin.”

“Wonwoo,” you said softly. “We’ve been flirting with frequency for weeks, don’t you think it’s time we met?”

Wonwoo felt a jolt. He muttered something into the mic, remembering there were people listening.

“No one else is listening, it´s only you and me tonight,” you assured him.

“You want to come to the station? It´s like 2 in the morning…”

“I´m already at the gate.”.

Wonwoo didn’t hesitate. He ran to the front door, his heart hammering inside his chest as he rang the buzzer of the gate to open it. It was against all logic. How did you get here so fast? How did you manage to get him the records from places inside the station? None of it made sense… yet that was the last of his worries right now.

He adjusted his glasses, straightened his sweater, and pushed the hair over his face back. The signal strength meter on the wall was now blinking red, and it vibrated so hard that it cracked. The clock on the wall started clicking backward.

He then saw you getting closer. You were exactly like he expected, yet nothing like he imagined. You were covered by a coat that seemed to absorb the surrounding light. Your shiny hair brings light to your face.

“You are real.” He breathed. The snob persona vanishes completely at the sight of you.

You smiled, getting even closer until you could trace soft lines across his sharp jawline. Your fingers felt cold, yet they sent waves of heat across his skin.

“I don’t even know your name,” Wonwoo breathed again, placing both hands across your waist, cautiously but firmly.

You leaned in, lips brushing against his. “What am I to you?”

Wonwoo replied almost instantly. “My muse.”

You then kissed him, lips brushing at first, then embracing his mouth and tongue slowly, savoring every second you were connected. He kissed you back eagerly, as if he hadn’t kissed anyone else before you, but had all the experience in the world.

His hands roamed up and down from your back to your hips, and you threw your arms across his neck. Soon you were back at the booth. Lost in the heat, he reached for the master fader to lower the volume, but your hand caught his, pinning it to the desk.

“Hmm,” you hummed against his lips. “Leave it up. Let them hear what happens next.”

Outside the radio tower, the people of Blackmountain were engulfed by the flickering lights. Their shadows had left their bodies and were now dancing out on their porch, to the rhythmic pulse coming from the station. They knew what Wonwoo didn’t. That he was about to become one with the static, the sound, and the waves he loved to play for others.

"You know that feeling…" you trail off, eyes dropping briefly to the console as your fingers tap lightly against it. "When you're not even doing anything special—just sitting next to someone, or maybe talking about nothing—and it still feels like the nicest part of your day?"

"Yeah," he murmurs. "Like… nothing's really happening, but you don't want it to end."

You nod faintly, a small smile forming as you continue.

"It's that kind of love that isn't loud," you exhale softly. "The kind you don't realize you're holding onto until it's not right in front of you anymore."

"Mm," Joshua hums. "Feels like a dream while you're in it."

"Now that you've said it…" you begin, a hint of a grin returning, "I'm going to play the first song of the evening—and I might be a little biased here—"

Joshua lets out a quiet, knowing huff of amusement beside you.

"—but this is one of my absolute favorites. I could listen to it on loop and never get tired of it," you continue, fingers finally pressing lightly against the button.

You lean just a fraction closer to the mic, voice dipping into something more intimate. "Here's 'Dream' by Baekhyun and Suzy."

As the opening notes of the song begins to drift through the studio, you slide back from the mic.

The rest of the show flows easily—songs playing one after another, a few sweet confessions from listeners, and light chatter between you and Joshua that keeps the night warm and relaxed. Before you know it, the final song fades out.

You lean toward the mic again with a small smile. "That's all for tonight, darlings. Thank you for spending your evening with us." Joshua follows with a gentle goodnight, and with a promise to be back tomorrow on The Love Line, the ON AIR light clicks off.

The softness that filled the studio just seconds ago disappears the moment the red light clicks off. Like a switch being flipped, your smile drops into a grim expression. Without another word, you pull your headphones off, pack up your things, and push your chair back. The wheels scrape lightly against the floor as you stand and walk out of the studio.

Joshua just watches you go for a second, lips pressed into a thin line. He lets out a small scoff under his breath and shakes his head, packing up his own things.

From the control room, Jeonghan clicks his tongue, leaning back in his chair. "Talk about being professional. The way they interact on the show, nobody would guess they're literally at each other's throats."

Vernon, who had been sitting behind the console, turns to him curiously. "I've always wondered why they're like this."

Jeonghan exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Beats me," he mutters. "Anyway, good job today, intern. You can pack up for tonight." He pats Vernon's back before running out to catch you.

You pull your phone out of your pocket, glancing down at the screen to check your notifications as you walk down the corridor. A voice calls out from behind you. You stop and turn slightly. Jeonghan jogs toward you, a bright smile already spreading across his face. You slip your phone into your back pocket, returning his smile with a curious tilt of your head.

"As expected of my ace," he says, catching his breath. "That episode was so good. Especially when you addressed that last confession—"

"I won't do it." You state.

Jeonghan blinks. Your blunt interruption hangs in the air. His smile falters, eyes flickering away from you as he scratches the back of his head.

"I… don't know what you mean," he says weakly.

You sigh, already half turning away.

"You know how much I hate being on camera, and with this whole documentary thing. I can say goodbye to my privacy."

There's been all this talk about a crew coming in, filming everything—behind the scenes, personal lives, 'the struggle of radio in the age of podcasts and streaming'. Like putting a camera in the room is suddenly going to save it.

All you can picture is lenses pointed at you when you're not ready for it. Boom mics hovering just out of frame. So annoying.

"I don't want to sign up to have someone documenting how I work, how I talk, what I do in between segments—like it's something for people to pick apart later." Your voice dips lower. "I like that this job ends when I walk out of the studio. I like that there's still a line."

"Ah—just this once!" Jeonghan moves too quickly, stepping directly into your path before you can slip past him. You almost walk straight into his chest, forced to stop short as he throws his arms out slightly, like he can physically keep you from leaving if he just tries hard enough.

"You're the perfect one for this. " He says, words coming a little too fast, like he's afraid you'll disappear if he doesn't get them out in time. "Your show is literally the only one doing numbers right now."

Before you can respond, his tone softens, shifting gears as naturally as breathing. He reaches for your hand, clasping it between both of his, warm and insistent, his thumbs pressing lightly like he's trying to anchor you there.

"Do you you really want the company to look bad?" he adds, tilting his head just slightly, eyes searching your face. "Do you want me to be embarrassed?"

You give him a look, pulling your hands back.

"Jeonghan, I love you, but no." You say flatly, your voice carrying none of the softness he's trying to coax out of you. "And working extra hours with Joshua? Pass."

Speaking of the devil. Joshua struts towards the both of you and lazily puts an arm around Jeonghan. He notices the slight tension between the two of you and shakes his head in disapproval.

"Give this old man a break."

Your eyes narrow just a fraction before you roll them, turning your head away like you couldn't care less. "You're literally the same age."

Joshua ignores you entirely and instead looks at Jeonghan. "She bothering you, king?"

Jeonghan blinks. "No, actually I was asking if—"

"You know what?" Your eyes suddenly brighten as you cut him off. You clap your hands together once. "How about you have Joshua and Hana on this one?"

"What? No!" Joshua immediately shoots down the idea as if he knows what you guys are talking about.

"She's just an intern—" Jeonghan says at the exact same time.

Your lips curl into a faint, humorless smile as you fold your arms across your chest.

"Right," you murmur. "Because I'm the only one you can overwork."

You shift your weight, gaze flicking briefly toward Joshua before sliding away again.

"And Hana's not exactly helpless," you add, tone light but pointed. "She's practically glued to the studio anyway."

It’s true.

Hana is always around—hovering near the control room, lingering just a little too long after her shifts, volunteering for things no one asked her to. And more often than not, her eyes aren't on the equipment or the scripts.

They're on Joshua.

She laughs a little too quickly at his jokes, bright and eager. Finds reasons to stand close. To ask questions she already knows the answers to. And somehow, she always ends up near you—because wherever you are, Joshua isn't far behind.

"That's not the point," he says, tone more controlled now.

"Mm," you hum, unconvinced.

You don't push it further. Instead, you straighten slightly, your arms still crossed like a barrier between you and them. "Look I won't do extra hours for something that doesn't even benefit me in any way."

"It's not exactly nothing," Jeonghan starts weakly. "I mean, you will be getting a paid leave for a week."

"We are?" Joshua's head snaps towards him.

Jeonghan looks at you observing your reaction to the enticing information, hoping that this might be enough for you to change your mind.

A paid leave. A whole freaking week.

You could sleep without setting alarms. Stay in bed until the sun shifts across your room and disappears again. You could spend time with your cat—if she even still recognizes you. These days, she's always curled up somewhere by the time you get home, half-asleep, barely lifting her head when you walk in like you're just another passing presence instead of the person who feeds her.

You huff a quiet breath through your nose. A week of that sounds… dangerously tempting.

From the corner of your eye, you can feel Joshua watching you. Not saying anything, not interrupting—just waiting. And you know if you agree, he won't let you forget it. The teasing alone would be unbearable. But still… a week off.

God.

You exhale slowly, like you're forcing the decision out before you can rethink it.

"…Fine."

Jeonghan's face lights up instantly, relief breaking across his features so openly it almost makes you regret saying yes.

"But this is the first and the last time," you add firmly, already turning away and continuing down the hallway without waiting for a response.

"Of course!" Jeonghan calls after you, raising his arms above his head to make a giant heart that you don't see it. "Thank you so much! I love you!"

Joshua watches the empty space for a second longer than necessary, his gaze lingering where you vanished before he exhales quietly through his nose, shaking his head.

"Tch. All that drama just to say yes."

Jeonghan throws him a dirty look, elbowing him on the stomach. "Don't trouble her so much, you idiot."

Joshua doubles down holding his stomach. "Are you my friend or hers?"

"At work, I'm your producer."

When you agreed to the documentary, you hadn't realized it would start this soon.

You'd barely made it home the night before—shoes kicked off somewhere near the door, bag abandoned on the couch—when your phone buzzed with a new email. You remember staring at the screen, eyes still half-lidded with exhaustion, rereading the same line twice just to make sure you weren't hallucinating.

Filming begins tomorrow.

Now, barely twelve hours later, you're seated in a meeting room that feels just a little too bright, a little too cold, with cameras already set up in the corners like silent observers.

The documentary team mills about, adjusting equipment, whispering to one another. Across from you, Jeonghan sits with his usual composure, legs crossed neatly, hands resting on the table. He's smiling wide and bright.

You hadn't realized until this exact moment how deeply that smile could irritate you.

To your right, Joshua looks no different than he usually does—leaned back slightly in his chair, posture relaxed, one hand idly spinning the paperweight on the table like he has all the time in the world.

From the outside, the two of you probably look like the picture of professionalism—calm and composed. What they don't see is the way his shoe presses lightly against your ankle under the table. It is subtle at first, almost easy to dismiss as accidental, but when it happens again, and then again, the pattern becomes impossible to ignore.

You shift your leg back, drawing it closer to your chair in an attempt to create distance, but it barely lasts a second before his foot follows, closing the gap you just made. The repetition grates on your nerves, and you can feel your patience thinning as your fingers curl slightly against the edge of the table. You keep your gaze forward, fixed somewhere ahead, refusing to acknowledge him, refusing to give him the reaction he is clearly trying to provoke. Still, he does it again, pressing just enough this time to make it impossible to ignore without responding, and you feel the irritation rise sharp and immediate in your chest as you prepare to turn and finally snap at him.

Before you can, the door swings open.

"I am so sorry for the delay!" The sudden interruption cuts cleanly through the tension, breaking it apart before it can escalate any further.

A man steps inside, slightly out of breath, one hand pushing his hair back as he straightens himself and offers a quick, apologetic bow that is just a little too hurried to be polished. His tie sits slightly crooked, sleeves pushed up as if he has been rushing from one place to another, and there is a faint flush to his face that suggests he has been moving far faster than he probably should have.

Despite all of that, there is something immediately noticeable about him—an energy that feels bright and open, a little chaotic but undeniably genuine. It settles into the room almost instantly, softening the sharp edges of the moment you were just in and replacing it with something lighter, something easier, as he steps further inside with a breathless laugh and an apologetic smile that does not falter.

"There was so much traffic today," he continues, already moving further into the room. "I brought coffee for everyone—least I could do."

He carries a coffee carton as he goes around the table handing out cups one by one, offering soft apologies with each.

"Oh—" he pauses when he reaches you, the motion so slight it might have gone unnoticed if you weren't already hyper-aware of everything in the room. For a brief second, his hand hovers midair, the coffee cup still extended toward you as his eyes settle on your face.

A flicker of recognition passes his face and the soft smile on his face gets bigger as he places the coffee in your hand. A faint blush creeps up before you can stop it, and when you murmur a soft "thank you," it comes out quieter than you intended, almost betraying the sudden shift in your composure.

If no one else notices, Joshua does.

The movement under the table stops ,and a second later your chair shifts ever so slightly, nudged from the side, just enough to draw your attention without making it obvious. You turn your head, already knowing what you'll find.

He's looking at you.

One eyebrow raised, cup hovering halfway to his lips, his gaze sharp and assessing in a way that feels far more intentional than casual curiosity.

Do you know him?

Of course its his job to be nosy. And if you so much as give him anything to work with, you already know how it ends—with endless teasing, with him bringing it up at the worst possible moments, with that stupid, knowing look every time your name gets mentioned in the same breath as his.

You hold his gaze for a fraction of a second, long enough to acknowledge it but not long enough to answer. Then you look away.

When you turn back toward the front of the room, that small smile hasn't quite left your face, lingering faintly like something you haven't decided what to do with yet.

"Hello everyone," the man says, stepping forward to the head of the table. He straightens, shoulders squaring as his hands come together neatly in front of him. "I'm Lee Seokmin, the producer for this documentary."

Then he bows fully, a clean ninety degrees. A quiet laugh slips out of you before you can stop it, soft and brief, drawn more from familiarity than amusement.

Some things really don't change.

Jeonghan picks up from there without missing a beat, slipping seamlessly into his professional tone as he begins outlining schedules, expectations, and boundaries. His voice is steady, controlled, filling the room with the kind of structure everyone else seems to fall into easily. Around the table, the crew listens attentively, some jotting down notes, others glancing toward the cameras as if already piecing together how this will all look once it's edited.

You try to focus. You really do.

You follow the conversation, nod at the appropriate moments, keep your posture composed and your expression neutral—but your attention doesn't stay where it's supposed to.

Every now and then, your eyes drift.

Seokmin listens with a kind of attentiveness that feels almost deliberate, nodding along as Jeonghan speaks, occasionally adding a thought or asking a question that shows he's already thinking a few steps ahead. But once or twice his gaze shifts toward you.

Each time his gaze lingers just a second longer than it should, warm and familiar in a way that unsettles you, and each time you're the one who breaks first—looking away a little too quickly, a faint blush creeping up before you can stop it.

Across the table, Joshua grows quiet.

The paperweight in front of him sits untouched now, no longer spinning under his fingers. His foot stays still beneath the table, no longer seeking yours. And he doesn't speak unless he absolutely has to, offering nothing extra, nothing unnecessary.

—

You pack slower for someone who's always the first one out of the room the moment a meeting ends. But today, your movements drag just enough to notice. You stack your papers once, then again, aligning the edges more carefully than necessary. Your bag stays open as you pretend to look for something, fingers brushing over items you already know are exactly where they should be.

You don't know what you're waiting for. Maybe waiting to go talk to Seokmin or maybe he—

Oh fuck he's coming this way.

The realization lands all at once, sharp enough to make your stomach tighten, and you immediately drop your gaze, shoulders straightening as you shuffle your things with sudden, unnecessary urgency. You try to look occupied, focused, like you've been doing something important this entire time instead of sitting there waiting without admitting it.

A soft knock against the table pulls your attention up anyway.

He's closer than you expected.

Up close, Seokmin looks almost exactly the same, though there's something more put together about him now—his features a little sharper, his presence a little more grounded, but still carrying that same warmth you remember. His hair is slightly out of place like he's been running his hand through it, and a faint flush to his cheeks. Despite all of that, his smile is steady, easy, the kind that comes naturally without effort

"It's been so long since we met," he says, his expression brightening further as he looks at you properly, like he’s confirming what he already suspects. "How have you been?"

For a brief moment, your mind goes completely blank. You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering there as you try to gather your thoughts, to form a response that doesn't sound as thrown off as you suddenly feel.

"I've been—"

"You guys know each other?" Joshua's voice cuts in smoothly, almost lazily, but there's an edge to it that makes you immediately regret not answering faster. When you glance at him, he's already watching the two of you, a wide smile stretched across his face—too interested, too entertained, like he's just found something new to pick apart.

Seokmin lets out a small laugh, glancing briefly in his direction before looking back at you.

“We do have some history,” he says.

"You…dated?" Joshua's brows lift slightly.

"No no," Seokmin laughs, shaking his head, "She's my junior from university. We were in the same club for a while."

You feel your shoulders stiffen slightly.

"She was always running around, making sure everything went smoothly," Seokmin continues, clearly unaware of your growing discomfort. "Super reliable, but also…" he pauses, glancing at you with a grin that feels a little too familiar, "…a little too energetic sometimes."

Why is he saying so much?

Joshua hums softly, clearly enjoying this more than he should.

"Our ace's history in the flesh," he says, voice laced with amusement. "I'd love to hear more about that someday."

The way he says it makes your stomach drop. You know exactly where this is going, and you have no intention of letting it get there. You push your chair back abruptly and stand, the legs scraping loudly against the floor as you cut in before Joshua can say anything else.

"Seokmin—!"

The name comes out sharper than you intend, loud enough to draw both their attention instantly. You force your expression to soften, stepping around the table as you try to recover from the abrupt interruption.

"It's so good to see you," you say, your voice quieter now, more controlled. "I didn't expect to run into you here."

Seokmin looks momentarily surprised before breaking into a warm laugh. He reaches out without thinking and ruffles your hair lightly, the gesture so casual and familiar that it catches you completely off guard.

"You haven't changed at all," he says, fondness clear in his tone.

You freeze for just a second, caught between reacting and not reacting.

Before you can decide, he turns slightly toward Joshua again, still smiling. "I have so much to tell you," he adds. "She was so bubbly. Always made things more lively."

"Bubbly…" Joshua drags, his gaze shifting back to you with a playful look. "I see."

"Seok—" you start, stepping in again, fully prepared to shut this down before it gets any worse

But you're interrupted by one of the crew members calling Seokmin from across the room, waving him over urgently. He turns, blinking, then looks back at you with an apologetic expression.

"I'm so sorry," he says quickly. "I think I have to go for a bit."

You nod, still trying to steady yourself.

"But I want to catch up," he continues, already pulling out his phone and holding it out toward you. "Give me your number?"

There's a brief hesitation before you take it, your fingers brushing lightly against his as you input your number. It's a simple action, but your heartbeat feels just a little too loud in your chest.

'See you soon, sunshine," he smiles as you hand the phone back.

The nickname lands unexpectedly, and you feel the warmth rush to your face again as you bite the inside of your lip, managing only a small nod in response.

Then he's gone. The door closes softly behind him, and the room feels quieter in his absence.

"Wasn't that fun?" Joshua says from behind you, making your shoulders tense. "I can't wait to see him again," he adds as he gathers his things, movements unhurried.

"Don't," you warn.

Joshua hums softly, like he didn't hear the warning at all. As he passes by you, his hand reaches out, ruffling your hair in the exact same way Seokmin did just moments ago. The familiarity of the gesture hits differently this time, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

"Bye, sunshine," he says emulating Seokmin's voice.

He doesn't wait for a reaction. He just walks out, leaving you standing there.

You had gone to bed far too late that night, standing in front of your wardrobe longer than you'd like to admit, pulling out outfit after outfit only to reject each one for reasons that kept changing. Too plain. Too much. Too obvious. Not enough.

It had taken you nearly two hours to finally settle on something that felt right—something that didn't look like you were trying, even though you absolutely were.

And yet, despite the lack of sleep, you wake up ten minutes before your alarm.

Your morning moves with unusual precision. You take your time in the shower, letting the water run warmer than usual, going through every step like you're preparing for something far more important than just another workday.

Your cat greets you in the kitchen, already weaving around your legs before you've even poured your coffee. She's unusually affectionate today, tail brushing against you, lingering instead of darting away like she usually does. You crouch down, scratching lightly behind her ears as she leans into your hand.

"Wow," you murmur, narrowing your eyes at her. "You're being suspiciously nice today. Today must be a good day?"

She blinks up at you, entirely unbothered, before settling beside you as you eat.

By the time you leave, you feel put together.

The compliment comes from somewhere to your left as you walk down the hallway, followed quickly by another voice agreeing, then another.

Of course you look good. You didn't spend two hours the night before for nothing.

Still, there's a small, quiet satisfaction in the way heads turn just slightly as you pass, in the way people do double takes before catching themselves. Your hand tightens briefly around the strap of your bag as you approach the meeting room, your steps slowing just a fraction as your thoughts drift.

Seokmin.

You wonder if he'll notice. If he'll say something. If he'll smile the same way he did yesterday—

A burst of laughter from inside the room cuts the thought short. You pause for half a second, then push the door open. Both Joshua and Seokmin look up at the same time.

Seokmin's reaction is immediate. He straightens slightly in his seat, his expression lighting up in a way that feels almost automatic, like he didn't even have to think about it.

"Wow," he says, the word slipping out easily as his gaze lingers on you. "You look great."

The compliment lands softly but directly, and you feel your cheeks warm before you can stop it. You glance down briefly, biting your lip in a small, reflexive attempt to hide it, your fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of your dress as if suddenly aware of it.

"Thank—"

"Really?" Joshua cuts in, his voice calm, almost thoughtful. "I don't see any difference."

Your head snaps up, the warmth in your expression disappearing as quickly as it came, replaced by a sharp, unimpressed scowl. Your eyes lock onto his, narrowing slightly as you stare him down across the room.

Joshua meets your gaze without hesitation, completely unfazed. If anything, he looks mildly confused, his brows knitting just slightly as if he genuinely doesn't understand what he said wrong.

Seokmin lets out a small, awkward cough, the sound cutting through the moment as he glances between the two of you. You break eye contact first, exhaling quietly as you turn away and move toward your seat, setting your bag down with more force than necessary before sitting.

Seokmin clears his throat lightly, slipping back into a more professional tone as he gestures toward the crew behind him.

"So, like we discussed yesterday," he begins, his voice steadying as he shifts gears, "today we'll just be recording you guys working. We want everything to feel as natural as possible, so just… pretend we're not here. Think of it as a normal day in your lives."

You let out a quiet hum, leaning back slightly in your chair.

"If we do that," you mumble under your breath, "a war will break out any moment."

"Sorry, I didn't catch that." Seokmin says, blinking at you.

“We'll do our jobs ten times more efficiently today, bro.” Joshua cuts in smoothly, his tone bright and easy as he looks at Seokmin with a wide, almost charming smile—like he didn't just undermine you in the most deliberate way possible.

You turn your head slowly, fixing him with a flat look. "Bro?"

Joshua nods seriously, like this is a completely reasonable development.

"We're like real brothers now," he says, gesturing lightly between himself and Seokmin. "Right, bro?"

Seokmin laughs, a little surprised but clearly amused, nodding along. "Sure. If you say so."

You stare at Joshua for a second longer, your expression unimpressed, bordering on disbelief. Of course he's doing this. Of course he's inserting himself here too. It's not enough that he disrupts your rhythm, pokes at your patience, finds ways to get under your skin—now he has to compete in spaces that don't even belong to him.

You look away with a quiet scoff, crossing your arms as you settle back into your chair.

Joshua, meanwhile, looks entirely satisfied, leaning back like he's just won something no one else realized was a competition.

And somehow, that makes it worse.

The meeting dissolves into movement soon after, the crew quietly repositioning themselves around the room while you and Joshua settle into what is supposed to be a "normal work session." Laptops open, notes spread out, a half-finished outline of the next segment sitting between you like neutral ground that neither of you fully trusts.

You lean forward slightly, scanning the draft on your screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard before you begin typing. For a few minutes, it's almost peaceful. The faint hum of equipment, the soft clicks of keys, the occasional murmur from the crew trying to stay unobtrusive. If you ignore the cameras—and him—it almost feels like any other day.

"Don't you think that line's a bit too heavy?"

Joshua's voice cuts in, smooth and casual, like he's just making an observation and not deliberately interrupting your flow.

You don't look at him immediately. You finish typing the sentence, hit save, and only then turn your head slightly.

"It's supposed to be," you reply evenly. "That's the point."

He leans back in his chair, tilting his head as he looks at your screen from afar, like he doesn't even need to see it properly to disagree.

"Or," he says slowly, "it could just sound like you're trying too hard to be deep."

There it is. You feel it instantly—that small, sharp spark of irritation. Your fingers still against the keyboard as your eyes flick to him, narrowing just slightly.

"Or," you return, voice just as measured, "you could try understanding the tone before commenting on it."

"I understand it," he says. "I just don't think the listeners will."

Your jaw tightens. You're about to respond—already leaning forward slightly, words forming, ready to push back properly this time, when you catch his subtle gaze toward the camera—giving you a hint that everything is being recorded.

You sit back slowly instead, trying to ease out your expression into something softer.

"Well," you say, offering him a small, tight smile, "that's why we work together, right? Balance."

Joshua watches you for a second before smiling just as polite. "Exactly."

From the outside, it probably looks seamless. The kind of dynamic people would compliment. It makes your skin itch.

"Bitch." You grunt, deleting the words from the screen.

"Sorry what was that?" Joshua raises an eyebrow at you.

"Rich." You quickly correct yourself. "Your thought process is so…rich."

The rest of the session passes in that same rhythm—careful, controlled, every word filtered just enough to sound right without saying what you actually mean. By the time you're done, your patience feels thinner than it should be.

You close your laptop with a quiet exhale and stand, stretching slightly as you glance around the room.

Seokmin is across the space, speaking with one of the crew members, his back half-turned to you. You hesitate for only a second before making your way over.

"Seokmin," you call lightly.

He turns immediately, his expression brightening the moment he sees you. "Yeah?"

You slow to a stop in front of him, hands loosely clasped behind your back, the earlier tension easing just a fraction.

"Are you free for lunch?" you ask, tone casual, but just warm enough to feel intentional. "I was thinking we could—"

"Bro, we're still having lunch together, right?" Joshua’s voice slides in from behind you before you can finish.

Seokmin blinks, looking between the two of you. "Oh—uh—yeah, we did say—"

"Great," Joshua continues easily, stepping forward just enough to fall into your line of sight. "There's so much for us to catch up on."

Catch up on? They met two days ago. And suddenly it's catching up?

The thought flickers through your mind, sharp and immediate, irritation bubbling up before you can stop it. Because if anyone here has actual history (well not too much history) with him—if anyone should be the one catching up it's you.

You inhale slowly.

No. You're not doing this. That's exactly what he wants—to get a reaction, to pull you into something pointless, to make you slip in front of the cameras. You won't give him that.

You let the feeling pass as quickly as it came, your posture straightening slightly as you turn back to Seokmin with a small, easy smile.

"Eat well," you say, tone light, almost dismissive in its calm. "I've got some work to finish anyway. I would've joined you otherwise."

There's the faintest hint of hesitation in his expression, but he nods. "Ah… okay. Next time then?"

"Next time," you echo, still smiling.

Joshua raises an eyebrow at that, clearly amused, but you don't look at him. You just turn, already stepping away before the moment can stretch any further, before he can add anything else to it.

—

Lunch comes and goes without you noticing it at first.

The room empties gradually, chairs scraping back, quiet chatter filling the space as people start heading out in small groups. Someone asks if you're coming along, and you shake your head without looking up, mumbling something about finishing a draft. It's easy to make it sound believable when your eyes are already glued to your screen, fingers moving just enough to sell the act.

The truth settles in a little more quietly. You're not hungry.

Or maybe you were—before. But somewhere between that moment in the meeting room and now, the thought of food has dulled into something unappealing, something you don't feel like dealing with.

So you stay.

The office feels different when it's half-empty. Quieter. The distant hum of voices fades into the background, replaced by the steady tapping of your keyboard and the occasional rustle of papers. You lean into the silence, letting it fill the space instead of your thoughts.

At some point, one of the crew members lingers near your desk, glancing at you curiously.

"You're not going for lunch?" they ask.

You don't look up immediately, finishing the line you're typing before answering.

"I'll eat later," you say lightly. "Not really hungry right now."

You don't notice Joshua nearby. You keep your focus on the screen, on the words that blur together if you stare at them too long.

After a while, the stillness starts to feel heavy.

You push your chair back with a quiet sigh, rubbing your eyes briefly before standing. "Washroom," you murmur to no one in particular, more out of habit than necessity, and step out of the room.

The break is short. Just enough to clear your head, splash some water on your face. When you return, you expect the same quiet you left behind. Instead, you pause.

There's something on your desk.

A neatly wrapped sandwich. A tall milkshake beside it, condensation already forming along the sides of the cup. It looks fresh. Recently placed.

Your gaze shifts slightly to the small sticky note is tucked under the edge of the sandwich wrapper.Just a simple smiley face.

:)

Your lips part slightly in surprise, your steps slowing as you approach your desk. There's no name. No message. Just that. But you don't need one. A small, almost involuntary smile begins to form.

Seokmin.

It has to be.

You pick up the note, your thumb brushing lightly over the ink as if that might confirm it somehow. The thought settles in easily, naturally—him remembering, him noticing, him doing something like this without making a big deal out of it.

It fits.

You're still looking at it when the door opens again and Joshua walks in.

His steps slow almost immediately as his eyes land on your desk, taking in the sandwich, the milkshake, the note. There's a brief pause as he analyses your demeanor, before his expression shifts into something more casual.

"Whoa," he says, low and almost impressed as he walks closer. "Looks like you've got a secret admirer."

You glance up at him, your fingers still holding the edge of the note.

His gaze lingers on the food for a moment longer before he reaches over, picking up a few papers from the corner of your desk like that's the only reason he came back.

"Didn't think you were the type," he adds, tone light, almost teasing.

You narrow your eyes slightly at that, but don't bite. Instead, you just set the note down carefully and pull your chair out.

"Maybe I've got someone who really cares," you reply, your voice calm, a hint of something pointed beneath it.

Joshua lets out a soft hum at that, but doesn't respond. He gathers the rest of the papers he needs, tapping them lightly against the desk to straighten them.

"Clearly," he says, almost under his breath.

For a second, it feels like he might say something else. But he doesn't. He just turns and walks out, leaving as casually as he came.

The door clicks shut behind him.

You look back down at the sandwich, at the milkshake, at the small smiley face drawn on the note. The earlier heaviness in your chest feels lighter now, replaced with something softer, something easier to hold onto.

You reach for the sandwich.

Maybe you were a little hungry after all.

The next two weeks pass in a blur of cameras, scripts, and carefully manufactured normalcy.

At first, it feels unnatural—every movement slightly too deliberate, every word filtered through the quiet awareness that someone, somewhere, is watching. But slowly, the presence of the documentary crew fades into the background.

What doesn't fade is Joshua.

If anything, he becomes more present.

Every time you find a moment—any moment—with Seokmin, Joshua is there. It starts small. A passing comment when you're mid-conversation. A casual interruption masked as a joke. Then it becomes more frequent, more deliberate. He inserts himself into discussions, finishes your sentences, redirects conversations before they can settle into anything personal.

At first, you tell yourself it's coincidence. By the fourth day, it clearly isn't.

Seokmin, for his part, doesn't seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn't comment on it. He remains the same—warm, attentive, easy to talk to. He checks in on you during breaks, asks about things that have nothing to do with work, remembers details you don't recall mentioning twice. And every time you try to respond, to build on that familiarity, Joshua somehow finds his way into the space between you.

It's subtle enough that no one calls it out. But obvious enough that it drives you insane. By the end of the first week, you've stopped trying. By the end of the second, you're determined.

So when today comes—and Jeonghan, for reasons you don't question too deeply, drags Joshua away for some "special discussion"—you don't hesitate.

You don't ask what it means. You don't care.

All you know is that for the first time in two freaking weeks, you have a window. And you take it.

The restaurant is quieter than you expected, tucked just far enough away from the main street to feel removed from the usual rush. It's warm inside, soft lighting casting a comfortable glow over the tables, the low hum of conversation blending into something easy, something calm.

Seokmin pulls your chair out before you can reach for it, the gesture smooth and natural, like it's second nature to him.

"After you," he says lightly.

You smile murmuring a soft "thank you" as you sit. He moves around the table and takes the seat across from you, the distance just enough to feel proper, just enough to make the moment feel… intentional.

He reaches for the water jug without hesitation, pouring a glass for you first before filling his own.

"We finally get to eat together," he says with a small laugh, setting the jug aside.

You let out a quiet breath, something in your shoulders loosening for the first time all day.

"I was starting to think it would never happen," you admit, a faint smile tugging at your lips. "Every time I tried, something," or someone, you mutter under your breath. "Kept getting in the way."

Seokmin chuckles, resting his elbow lightly on the table. "Yeah, your co-host seems very… present."

"That's one way to put it," you mutter under your breath, earning another laugh from him.

For a while, it's easy. You talk about university—about things you barely remember until he brings them up. Late nights before events, the chaos of organizing, the way you used to run around like you had ten places to be at once. He fills in the gaps, adds details you’d forgotten, and you find yourself laughing more than you expected to.

"And you still haven't changed," he says at one point, smiling as he leans back slightly. "Still the same."

You raise a brow. "That's not always a good thing."

"It is in your case," he replies easily.

You don't respond to that but the warmth settles anyway.

Seokmin lifts his glass, taking a sip of water, and as he lowers it, his gaze shifts slightly past you. His expression brightens almost immediately, like he's just spotted something—someone—unexpected. He lifts his hand.

"Shua! Here!"

Your smile freezes.

For a split second, you don't turn around. You don't want to. Because there's no way—there's actually no way—

What the fuck.

But then you hear it.

"Hey, bro!"

Joshua's voice.

You close your eyes briefly before turning, already feeling the irritation rise as he approaches like he belongs here. He pulls out the chair beside you without hesitation and drops into it casually, like this is the most natural thing in the world.

You don't even try to hide the look you give him. Your side-eye could probably kill. Seokmin, completely oblivious to the shift in energy, smiles between the two of you.

"Let's order first, then we can all talk," he says, glancing around for the waiter.

The moment his attention shifts away, you act.

Your hand shoots out, pushing Joshua's arm—hard enough to get his attention, subtle enough to not cause a scene. When he turns to you, you're already glaring, your eyes sharp with a very clear message.

What are you doing here?

Joshua, on the other hand, looks like he's having the time of his life. His lips curl into a slow, amused smile, eyes glinting with something dangerously close to satisfaction. Instead of answering, he reaches out—completely unbothered—and ruffles your hair.

You swat his hand away immediately, your glare deepening. He doesn't even flinch. If anything, he looks more entertained.

Before you can escalate it further, the waiter arrives at the table, notepad in hand, politely asking for your orders.

The food arrives not long after, plates filling the table with just enough variety to keep the conversation flowing. For a brief moment, things almost settle. Almost.

You reach for a dumpling, lifting it carefully with your chopsticks, only to find it gone the second before it reaches your plate.

You pause. Then slowly you turn your head.

Joshua sits beside you, completely at ease, already chewing like nothing happened, his expression too neutral. You stare at him and he doesn't even look back.

You narrow your eyes slightly, then say nothing, simply reaching across the table toward his plate instead. Your chopsticks slide in smoothly, picking out a piece of meat without hesitation.

Joshua glances down this time, his gaze lingering for a moment before shifting back to yours. A beat passes in the quiet space between you, and then he reaches over again. With a practiced sort of ease, another dumpling disappears from your plate.

You don't even look surprised anymore. You just lean forward, this time taking a larger piece from his side, placing it onto your plate with deliberate calm.

Across from you, Seokmin watches the exchange unfold, his lips twitching before he lets out a soft chuckle. The sound makes both of you pause. Your chopsticks hover midair. Joshua's hand stills halfway back to his plate.

"You both are really close," Seokmin says, amusement clear in his voice as he glances between the two of you.

The words land heavier than they should. You freeze. Almost immediately, you shift your chair slightly away from Joshua, creating a visible gap between you, like distance alone can undo whatever that just looked like.

"Not really," you say quickly, your tone light but just a little too quick to be casual. You let out a small, awkward laugh, brushing it off as if it means nothing. "We just… work together."

Seokmin nods, but there's something knowing in his smile that makes you uneasy.

No. Absolutely not. The last thing you need is him getting the wrong idea.

"I'll just—" you start, already pushing your chair back slightly, "washroom."

You don't wait for a response. You stand, smoothing your outfit unnecessarily before turning and walking away, your pace just a little faster than it needs to be.

The moment you're out of sight, Seokmin's attention shifts. He leans forward slightly, resting his elbow on the table as he looks at Joshua, one brow lifting in quiet curiosity.

Joshua, meanwhile, has already picked up another dumpling, completely unbothered, popping it into his mouth as he glances back at him.

"What?" he asks around the bite, genuinely confused.

Seokmin smiles. "You have a crush on her."

It's not a question.

Joshua chokes. The dumpling goes down the wrong way, and he coughs immediately, reaching for the glass of water in front of him, grabbing it a little too quickly as he takes a hurried sip.

"Wha—what do you mean?" he manages between coughs, voice rougher than before.

"You've been following her around like a puppy for the past two weeks," he says, like he's just pointing out something obvious. "Interrupting conversations, sitting next to her, giving her food—"

"I—I don't—how did you," Joshua cuts in quickly, setting the glass down a little harder than necessary. "That's not—"

Seokmin just smiles wider. "Don't worry," he says lightly. "I'll help you."

"Help with what?" Your voice cuts in.

Seokmin doesn't even miss a beat. He leans back slightly, shaking his head with an easy smile, like nothing of importance was said at all.

"Oh, nothing much," he says casually.

You met Chan back when you were twenty one, still struggling with being comfortable with music. It was weird back then but thanks to Chan's constant meddling and encouragement, you managed to love music again. You don't tell him enough, but you are extremely grateful to him for what he did for you all those years back, despite him not even knowing about it.

It's not like he did much in theory, but to you it felt like he did everything. He reminded you why you always loved music, and that was more than anyone else has done for you in a while. He became your best friend shortly after, your shared hobbies and opinions drawing you closer together.

"I'm sorry," you apologize as you cross the room and take your seat beside him. "I didn't notice you were texting me, and I thought I'd take my time this morning when we aren't going live today."

He sighs, unable to be mad at you for long. Taking his phone out, he lays it out in front of you, clicking though multiple tabs before finally landing on the YouTube one. You blink confusedly, your eyes flickering between him and his phone. Chan's weird, that's nothing new, but he is the loud, excited, and overly joyed weird, so seeing him just click through things without saying anything catches you off guard.

"It feels weird since it's my friend I'm talking about here, but he's got a band and they just released their first album and it's really fucking good. I wanted you to listen as soon as I heard it to see what you think," he explains as he clicks on a music video titled CBZ and you finally realize why he's so serious. This is work related.

Focusing instantly, you close your eyes in order for the music to do what it knows best—impress you. You categorize all the voices in your head, the melodies, rhythm, and lyrics. You nod your head in the rhythm, letting yourself enjoy it. Despite you liking a variety of genres, it's still hard for songs to be to your liking. This one though—you are not disappointed. You open your eyes to try and grasp the video as well, but with how short the song is, it switches to a different one at the exact same time.

It's another song by them, by BSS, titled Love Song. Right off the bat, it's different from the first song, but still as good. You like what they have going on, and by the look on Chan's face as he listens with you, he does as well.

"Who is this friend of yours?" You question as the second song comes to an end.

"Seungkwan. Boo Seungkwan. I've known him for a few years and he texted me a few weeks ago asking for my opinion on their CBZ demo. I told him then that it was perfect and it's even better now."

"They write their songs themselves?"

"Yes and no. They have a part, but most of it is by Woozi."

"They got Woozi on this?" Your eyes widen and he laughs at your reaction. "Man, you can't just casually tell me one of my favorite producers was on the team!" You nudge his shoulder. Woozi producing these songs explains a lot—like why you already love it so much.

Chan laughs, the serious tone in his voice disappearing again, like it tends to do around you. You can't blame him because you're the same. Every time you try to be serious at work, it leads to moments like these. It's not your fault. You promise it's not. It's just what happens when your coworker is your best friend. Especially when you get paid for talking together on a radio show about the things you love the most. "I was thinking about pitching them to Jennie. What do you think?"

"I think you should," you encourage him. "I'd love to have them on. I think they fit us. And I'm not saying that because Woozi produced the song," you roll your eyes when he gives you a knowing look. Having Woozi helped, but you seriously think they have a talent. "Talk to Jennie about it first and then send Seungkwan an official email so we can plan further."

"Yes, ma'am," he salutes, causing you to shake your head at him.

♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝

Seokmin always dreamed big. From wishing he'd grow as tall as his father when he was a child, up to this day, hoping for his career to take off and showcase his voice to the whole world. He's one step closer to that goal now that their first album has been released, and he couldn't be happier. The first hundred views was already a blow, but nothing could prepare him for how it'd feel to wake up and their song to blow up.

He's been buzzing all morning, constantly texting all his closest friends and freaking out about it. It's a dream coming true, and with each new compliment he sees, his love for music only grows.

But what makes him jump up from his bed entire is the message sent into the BSS group chat just a week after CBZ was released. There are many things Seungkwan could say—they are trending, people hate their song, people love their song, Woozi wants them to get into the studio again, or maybe that Seungkwan's mom is inviting them for dinner again—but a forward of an invite for behind the mic, one of Seokmin's favorite shows, is on the very bottom of things he expects.

It only takes him a few clicks before he is on a call, waiting for both Seungkwan and Soonyoung to join. "You're serious, right? This isn't a joke of some sort? Because if it is, Kwan, I cannot promise you I won't slap the shit out of you."

"Whoa, violence," Seungkwan raises his free hand up in surrender, blinking at him. When he joined the video call, he was not prepared for Min to start with this without any greeting. "It's real. Remember the friend I mentioned before, Chan?"

"The first person who listened to our song? No, how could I remember him?" Seokmin fakes a confusion, causing Soonyoung to snicker as he hides his laugh with his hand.

"He is a host on the show. They want us on sometimes next week. We need to tell them what day we're free as soon as possible."

"How did I not figure out your Chan is Lee Chan?" Seokmin curses at himself quietly, plopping down on his bed again. "This has been a milestone ever since they first started broadcasting, you don't get it."

"Trust me," Soonyoung starts, smiling awkwardly as he passes a group of people at the store he's at, "we've heard plenty enough about them from you to get it."

"As if you didn't find a bunch of new artists you listen to through them," Seokmin scoffs.

"Never said otherwise."

Behind the mic started broadcasting three years ago, with you and Chan as the hosts. He was on his way to visit his family back then, the car radio on a random station. It was a coincidence, really, but Seokmin likes to call it fate. He remembers Sombr being on that day after his first EP was released. He debated changing the station to something more popular when he stopped at a red light, but your voice stopped him. He couldn't tell what it was you were talking about, but he certainly remembers the pull he felt.

He's been tuning in at two pm every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday like a clock, looking forward to the new artists you were going to introduce to him and finding out more about them. To now be offered the same opportunity, to sit in the studio with both of you and talk about the process behind writing CBZ and what he does in his every day life, truly feels like a dream come true. Not only will it bring new fans their way, but he will also finally get to talk to the two people that have been brightening his days for the past three years.

If he is honest, he might be looking forward to one of the hosts more than the other, but he wouldn't dare to say that out loud.

Friday is what they guys have decided on, Seungkwan sending Chan a message as soon as their video call ended and Seokmin stopped freaking out over being on his favorite show. His friends can't blame him though, they would have done the same had they been in his shoes. So they sat there patiently on the call with him, letting him talk their ears off.

Just like the week ago, and the week before that, and the one before that, Seokmin turns on his radio right on time, finding the right station. "That was amazing, 16," your voice rings in his ears. He's a little late today, so he didn't get to hear the first song, but it's okay, he's surprisingly always preferred the chatting segment more either way. "Can you tell us more about the process behind writing Not Anymore so the fans can get to know the song a little more before they get to know you?"

Seokmin listens to the radio as he paces around his room, taking the time he has on hand to clean his room. He stops in his track every once and then when you say something that catches his attention, taking the time to listen to what you have to say or ask before he resumes what he was doing.

One may call him biased, but he swears it's not like that. You just happen to ask the more interesting questions, while Chan is the one to make the chats more funny. You each have your own strengths, and he just sometimes prefers the interesting questions over funny moments.

He listens till the end, staying for the ending song Make no sense as well and adding it to his playlist before turning the radio off again as your broadcast comes to an end. Checking the time as if he didn't already know the show ending means it's three pm, he quickly collects all his things before rushing out of the apartment to get to the studio.

Soonyoung will complain he is late again, but it's not his fault. He needed to listen to today's behind the mic, otherwise the rest of the day would just go wrong.

♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝

You've met many artists since you started behind the mic with Chan. Much more than you could count if anyone asked you. But you are certain none of them were ever as excited as the man standing in front of you right now. His eyes flicker all over the room, taking in the sight of the studio. It's not much, but it's enough to have your show running. Neither you or Chan ever troubled yourself too much with how the interior looks since the fans can't see it anyway.

The walls are all white, decorated with different kinds of paintings and awards you got. There is a large black desk with six chairs and a dark green couch in the corner that Chan likes to occupy during his break. Despite your show only being on for an hour a day, there is a lot more work the two of you do. Planning future broadcasts, scouting artists, budgeting their fees, helping your other coworkers when they need, and even making music together.

Chan is the only person you're comfortable around enough to show him your music and have him hear your voice, whether that's through singing or simple lyrics composing. You know you will never showcase it to the world, you've made your mind on that back when you were fifteen, but he likes taking his ideas to the finish line and consulting you along the way. He released his first song two years ago, and you couldn't be prouder of him. You still have the demo version of Wait somewhere on your laptop, thinking about the day he let you listen to it for the first time whenever you question if what you're doing is really the right move for you.

Being reminded of the smile on his face when he showed you his song, and then the one he wore as he talked about his single on the show always reassures you that you are right where you're meant to be. Making your own music and showcasing it to the world might not have been in your cards, but helping others reach their goal and support them on their way certainly is.

"Please, take a seat anywhere," you smile at the three guys known as BSS. "We are sorry if calling you here so early was an inconvenience for you. We just need to go through some things before the broadcast starts and there is no way of knowing how long that will take."

"We used to meet thirty minutes before the show would start and it always ended up being a mess, which is why we prefer it this way," Chan explains, motioning towards the couch with his hand for them to sit.

"No worries, we cleared our schedule for today in advance," Seungkwan brushes him off before shooting Seokmin a look, almost as if it was his fault. Well, it might have been. With how he wouldn't stop talking about it, it was the only way they could get him to shut up. "Thanks for having us," he smiles, pulling Chan into a hug.

It's the first time you've had someone he knows on the show, and the vibe is already entirely different. It tends to be awkward at times at first, but thanks to how comfortable the guys are together, you don't think you'll have to worry about that.

You watch them with a smile before turning on your heel and going to one of the drawers you have, pulling out three papers from it. "These are some of the questions we ask on the show. Please, look through them and let us know which ones you don't want us to ask, for whatever reason. On the other hand, feel free to mark, underline, or anything else, with the questions you want us to ask. It's nice when we can talk about something that excites you, whether that is your hobbies outside of music, your family, or how you grew up."

They all nod as you hand them the papers. They all tower over you, so you appreciate it when they all sit down on the couch and you don't feel so little anymore. Chan takes the opportunity and reminds you of their names as they study the questions, only Seokmin raising his eyes from the paper when his name falls off your friend's lips.

"Lee Seokmin," he grins, extending his hand towards you. You return his smile, holding his hand in yours as you name slips past your lips. "I know," he chuckles. "Kind of a fan."

"Kind of," Soonyoung laughs and Seokmin shoots him a glare. "Should have seen him when we got the invitation."

"Soonyoung is known for lying any chance he gets, please don't listen to him."

You laugh at their interaction, shaking your head before turning to your colleague. "Coffee time?" He immediately agrees, and so you ask the same question the other three.

Seokmin watches as you leave the room to make coffee for everyone, nudging Soonyoung's shoulder harshly when the door closes. "Can you not embarrass me? I know a lot about you, stuff that I could talk about when the show starts."

Soonyoung raises his hands in surrender, "I only spoke the truth. In fact, by the smile on her face I believe she liked it."

"I thought you guys were here to promote your music?" Chan raises an eyebrow as he watches them, a teasing tone lacing his voice.

"We are," Seungkwan assures him quickly, not catching the hint of amusement on Chan's face. "Seokmin is a fan, though, and by how much he talks about the show and how excited he was when he found out we would be on, one would think he is in love."

"I love the concept you two built," he jumps right in, ignoring the comment about him being in love. Because he isn't. It's normal to have a favorite broadcast and to tune in every time it's on. Many of your fans do it, so why would it be any different for him? He simply enjoys listening to you talk and learning more about great artists. "It's nice to look at music from a different perspective and learn not only about how the song was made, but also about who made it."

"A lot of the artists you guys introduce are either freshly on the scene or aren't as popular as others, so their fans don't have many sources where they could learn about their lives, but you provide that. You allow the fans to learn about the person they listen to while still promoting their music," he finishes his rant, his cheeks heating up when he realizes how much he said. He's glad you're out right now and he saved this embarrassement from at least one of the hosts.

But Chan's lips curve up into a smile much to Seokmin's surprise. "You should repeat that when she comes back if you want to make her even more excited about working with you. It was her idea, really. I just chased her around and complimented her until she allowed me to be a part of this project. I still don't get how it worked out."

His words ring in Seokmin's ears loud and clear. Chased her around and complimented her until she allowed me to be a part of this. It's definitely not an advice he should take, those are completely different situations and most importantly, how he feels about your radio show does not mean he also feels a certain way about you like his friends tend to believe.

He has always been good at chasing and complimenting, though.

You come back into the room with a trail full of coffee mugs and Seokmin stands up from the couch as soon as he notices you, crossing the room in a few long strides. "Here, allow me," he offers with a bright smile, taking the trail from your hands.

Blinking up at him, you let your hands drop down to your sides. "Thank you," you return his smile, your eyes flickering to the rest of guys in the room. They're all watching you for some reason, making your cheeks heat up. Clearing your throat, you quickly avert your eyes from them and fix your shirt, letting them each take a cup.

"Thank you for inviting us," Seokmin says as he approaches you again, leaving the trail with two cups—one for you and one for him—on the table. "Like I said, I'm kind of a fan," he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, his eyes closed and an adorable smile on his lips. "And maybe Soonyoung wasn't so far from the truth. It does mean a lot to be here."

"We aren't anything you should freak out over," you shake your head, even though a smile creeps up on your lips as you listen to him. "Wait for when you get a Buzzfeed invite."

"As great as it would be to be on Buzzfeed, Behind the Mic means the same to me," he assures you. "I've been listen to you guys ever since you started, and I just want you to know how much I love what you and Chan built together. It's a great opportunity for artists to introduce themselves to fans and get out there."

Seokmin watches as your cheeks catch the color red, your eyes flickering all over your face, as if trying to find a proof of him not being real. He has to admit, you're cute. With your eyes focused on him, a soft smile playing on your lips, partly in disbelief and partly from how proud of yourself you are, and your hair framing your face, you exceed all expectations he's ever had of you.

He's seen you before, of course he has. Shortly after finding your broadcast, he started following both you and Chan on instagram. It helped him put a face to the voice he is always listening to, but if he's honest, you look so much prettier in person. He would never dare to say you wouldn't be beautiful in the pictures he saw you post on your feed, but the camera simply doesn't capture your beauty as well as his eyes do.

"You've—" you pause, trying to grasp the situation. You know people listen to your radio show, you know you have fans who have been here for a while and all that, but it's the first time you're standing in front of an actual artist who just expressed to you he is probably a bigger fan of you than you're of him. "How long have you been listening for?"

"Got here when Sombr did." You don't have to do the math in your head, knowing exactly when that was. You had him on at the very beginning, your room half the size it's now as you were just starting and your boss wasn't sure how well you'd do. Three years. This man has been listening to you and Chan talk for three years. Oh God. Is this the right time to freak out?

You snap out of it, trying to look as unbothered as possible as you reach for your cup of coffee and bring it to your lips. "Thank you for sticking around for so long," you mumble, looking at him briefly through your eyelashes. "We appreciate it a lot." The smile never leaves his lips, not as he takes his own cup with his eyes never leaving yours, not as he tells you about his favorite interviews so far, and definitely not as you admit you really loved their first album.

"We are on in ten," Chan interrupts your talk with Seokmin as he passes by you. Your eyes widen at the realization of how long you've been talking to him for, panic taking over you in worry of things not being ready.

"Fuck," you curse, standing on your tiptoes to look over his shoulder at his two band mates. "Are there any questions you guys have for us before we go live? Anything you want to know about? We need to talk about how it's going to go, what segments will be on and if you're okay with everything. We don't want to share anything you aren't comfortable with."

"Calm down," Seokmin's voice reaches you at the same time as his hands do. He's holding both of your shoulders, his eyes reminding you it's all okay and there is no need to panic.

"I already went over it with them," Chan smiles, but it's not as reassuring as Seokmin's smile is. No, his is much more teasing, as if he was trying to tell you something with it. You don't pay it any attention, shifting your attention back to Seokmin. You like looking at him more than looking at your coworker anyway. "Hope you don't mind we did it without you, Min. You just seemed so occupied."

You catch him rolling his eyes a bit as he shakes his head. "I'm sure whatever you guys decided on is great. As much as I hate they do, the two of them know me more than I know myself."

Soonyoung scoffs behind him. "Took you long enough to realize."

"Just about what? Three years to accept what we've been saying this entire time?" Seungkwan is smiling as well as he walks past you, patting his friend on the shoulder before sitting down at the table. Soonyoung follows suit, and it's only then that Seokmin let's go off your shoulders again. He shoots the guys a look you can't read, making your brows furrow as you look at them. You have a feeling there is more to what was just said than you can understand, and you hate that Chan's teasing grin makes it look like he is in on whatever is going on.

"Just so you know, you are still full of bullshit," he points at both of them. You take a step aside from the table and he smiles at you once more before taking a seat. "I'm just growing and realizing some things. Neither of you have anything to do with it, though."

"Sure we don't," they scoff at the same time and Seokmin rolls his eyes. You round the table to take your own seat, collecting the papers with questions from the guys and taking a look at them.

"We have two of your songs ready," you proclaim as you look up. "One is going to play at the beginning before we start talking, and the other is going to end our segment. Would you like for CBZ or Love Song to play first?"

"Let's play Love Song first," Seokmin decides. The guys don't question him in the slightest, nodding along. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but more people are listening at the end than right at the beginning."

"You're right," you blink, amazed by his knowledge. Your eyes stay on his and his smile grows, easily one of the prettiest ones you've seen in a long time. You shake your head out of it, glancing at your colleague. "Ready?"

"I always am," Chan grins, checking the time once more before changing the radio status to live.

♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝

As the live light turns off again, you lean back in your chair, stretching your hands above your head. "Good work today, you all did awesome," you praise them, catching Seokmin's eyes. The two of you have been playing eye tag the entirety of the broadcast, checking each other out as sneakily as possible.

At least that's what you think you've been doing. You can't exactly see inside his head and read his thoughts—even though you'd love to be able to do that—but you can speak for yourself and the longer you look at him for, the more attractive you find him.

You'd like to blame it on the fact you love his music, and so it's only natural to be curious about him, but in the last three years, you never felt like this while on the show. Sure, you had a bunch of artists you admire and look up to, but that's all it is, admiration. When you look at Seokmin, and catch the smile on his face, it's attraction much more than anything else.

"It was great having you guys on," Chan adds, extending his hand forward over the table for them to shake it. Soonyoung is the first one to reach towards him, praising the work you two did as he shakes his hand. Seokmin follows right after, until finally, Seungkwan stands up from his place and instead of just shaking his hand wraps his friend in a hug.

Seokmin watches you as you get up to clean the papers with questions back to where you took them from, exchanging a glance with the other guys. "Go for it," Chan chuckles at him, shaking his head slightly before continuing his conversation with Seungkwan. They did perfectly until now, so who is he to stand in Seokmin's way when he saw how much you laughed with him before they went live?

"Hi," whispers as he joins your side. You glance at him over your shoulder, greeting him right back. "I still can't believe I just did that."

You roll your eyes playfully, "We aren't a huge show," you remind him, but you're sure he doesn't pay much attention to your words. It's nice to know someone thinks so highly of the show you created and supports it with his whole heart.

"You are huge to me, though."

You keep your eyes on the cabinet in front of you, reorganizing things as if there was anything that would need fixing. Truth is, you just don't want him to see how red your face gets when he talks to you. You enjoyed today's broadcast more than others, partly because of how friendly the atmosphere was, but mainly because you got to know him more.

Who would have thought this man was in a rock band when he was in middle school, that his role model is Yoon Dohyun, or that he likes anime? He walks around you, leaning on his side. You glance at him briefly before looking down at the cabinet again, ignoring how handsome he looks while watching you.

"I enjoyed today a lot, being able to sit here and be on the receiving end of your questions instead of just listening over the radio," he tells you. "Knowing how it actually works now, I think I'll like your show even more from now on."

"It's not just my show," you remind him, finally looking at him properly again.

He shrugs, his significant smile on. "That's true, but I learned I tend to care about you more than Chan, so I think I'll keep addressing it as such."

The last thing you expected today is to have the guy you were just interviewing to be so openly flirting with you. Is this how Hailey felt when her favorite artist started flirting back with her? You bet it is. Quickly shutting the cabinet close, you look at him in panic. His eyes soften as soon as he meets yours, offering you a gentle smile.

"Min, we should get going."

Seokmin doesn't look at his friends as he answers, keeping his eyes on you, "Just a second!" You swallow under his gaze, feeling more and more nervous. As much as you liked playing eye tag with him during the interview, this is a completely different situation. You didn't have enough media training. You have no idea what you're supposed to do when he looks at you like he's just as—if not more—interested as you are.

Have you lost your mind? You might have if you think it's okay to look at him like this—like you want him to cross the invisible line you're trying so hard to draw. Okay, trying might be a strong word.

"What are you doing on Saturday?" He tilts his head. You shake your head quickly but his smile only grows. "You're not doing anything or you're already rejecting me?"

"Is there anything to reject?"

"If you'd like for something to be there," he shrugs innocently. "Any plans for Saturday?" He repeats his question when you don't give him a clear answer.

You hesitate, your eyes flickering all across his face, trying to decide what the right answer is. It's not helping that you can feel Chan's eyes on you. As much as they're pretending to be busy in a conversation, you know all three of them are watching you and waiting for what you have to say.

You wonder what Chan would do if he was in your position. If someone from a girl band flirted with him and gave him the opportunity to take her out, would he go with her? Thinking back to all the times he talked your ears off about some female celebrities and how he swore he would shoot his shot with them if he ever met them because he only lives once, you think he would.

"Whatever you have in mind?"

"Perfect," Seokmin nods. He digs his phone from his pocket, unlocking it for you before extending his hand towards you. You blink at the screen for a second before taking it from him, typing in your number.

As much as it feels like a dream to have your number in an artist's phone, it's scary. What if your boss finds out and decides you're being unprofessional? What if it causes a scandal that will destroy everything you worked on until now? What if even the last one of your dreams gets buried because of the fact you decided to be selfish for once?

"I'll text you," Seokmin's voice brings you out of your thoughts again, his proud grin reassuring you that whatever happens, it's okay to see it though first before panicking. He joins his friends, wrapping his arm around Soonyoung's shoulder and showing him something on his phone—your number, no doubt. You shake your head at them, unable to hide your own smile as you watch them all say their last goodbyes before leaving the room.

♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝

Just like he said he would, Seokmin texted you that night. At first, you simply exchanged a few words about the interview earlier, but those messages shortly turned into him trying to get to know you more.

Asking anything that came to mind as well as sharing random things about himself, he managed to completely forget about the show playing on his TV screen. He could not say what the last thing that happened there was, but he could confidently talk about what your favorite show is, or your favorite color, or the flowers you like, or literally anything you told him about yourself in the past hour.

You're not doing any better. The songs you put on as background noise while cleaning your kitchen after dinner have long been forgotten, and so has your kitchen, sitting still as messily as it did before you ate your food. Leaning against the kitchen counter, you keep a smile on your face while exchanging messages with Seokmin, your interest growing with each thing he tells you about himself.

He is adorable. His favorite movies are the Harry Potter movies—and as much as you don't share the same interest, you are convinced you could listen to him talk about it for hours—he loves sunflowers, all kinds of sports, and apparently used to act a little before forming BSS with his friends. You will never regret asking him more about it, because as soon as you did, you received not only pictures of him when he was playing in the theater, but also pictures of his other hobbies, including a photo of him in the swimming pool, which you know he sent on purpose.

You certainly don't mind, taking a good look at him before answering, teasing him about how hard he's trying. When he asks you back if it's working and you admit that it is, you create a smile on both your and his face.

Saturday comes around quickly, and you find yourself in front of a coffee shop, the first stop on today's plan as he informed you. Fixing your hair one last time, you walk inside and immediately search for him. It's not hard when your eyes find his instantly, the smile he offers you as you walk to the table he is occupying causing a warm feeling in your chest.

"Hi," he greets you softly.

"Hi."

He goes order for the both of you, using what he's learned about you last night to order your favorite. He's cute. You watch him as he does, admiring him from afar. He's dressed in a white button up, his sleeves rolled up slightly to show off his forearms, blue jeans, and there's a black jacket hanging over his chair. It's simple, and yet you still can't stop looking at him. He's handsome, radiating off this energy you feel drawn to.

He places a latte in front of you and you bring it closer, thanking him for buying it for you. He brushes you off, acting as if it wasn't anything as he takes his seat. Resting his hands on the table, he let's his coffee sit for a while, simply watching you. You feel your cheeks flush under his gaze, looking down at the table. "You didn't tell me what the rest of the plan is," you mumble, suddenly nervous as you sit in front of him.

"I want for it to be a surprise. And, truthfully, I'm scared if you're going to like it or not so I'm deciding not to think about it and stay in the moment instead."

"As long as you're not planning to feed me to the sharks or something, I think we're good," you glance up at him again, a reassuring smile on your lips. He returns it, his nerves slowly disappearing. He can do this. What's the worse that could happen? You tell him to go fuck himself and he won't be able to listen to your show anymore without feeling like shit? Oh yeah, there's nothing to worry about today.

The shift in the vibe as soon as he starts talking about what he did in the morning is obvious, both of you getting more relaxed. He tells you about another interview they did this morning, and how he completely memorized the story meaning behind their music video now, telling you all about that as well when you ask. You keep nodding along, unable to look away from him when he speaks so excitedly. You can tell he is genuinely proud of himself and the guys.

"That's incredible, Min," you praise in awe after he shows you how well their songs are doing right now. You knew they would right away when you first listened. "You deserve all the love— Fame. I meant fame," you quickly correct yourself but it's too late already, his easy going smile is now replaced with a teasing smirk, his chin resting in his palm and his head slightly tilted.

"I deserve the love?" He repeats, the grin on his face so annoying you just with to slap it away. Or kiss it away. Both options work for you at the moment. "I know of one person's love I want. And if you think I deserve it, then surely it's possible."

"Love? I didn't say love," you shake your head, acting as if nothing happened. "You must be hearing things. The fame probably got to you already and now you're imagining things."

"What does one have to do to have you admit you are also interested in me," he sighs, but nothing about it screams exhaustion like he probably wants. If anything, he sounds dreamy, holding back his smile as he bats his eyelashes at you. "At least a little bit."

"A little bit," you nod, keeping your eyes on him as you do. You see his back straighten immediately, his grin growing. It makes you laugh. He looks like a little puppy, excited because his owner just said he'll give him a treat. He truly is adorable. It'd be a lie if you claimed you aren't interested, or that you don't wonder what he'd be like in a relationship, how he'd act and if he'd treat you well. Something tells you he'd be a perfect boyfriend.

If you're lucky enough, maybe you'll be able to find out.

"Tell me what you did this morning," he prompts, doing nothing to hide the fact he is excited like a little kid. "I want to hear all about it."

You take a sip of your latte in an attempt to not dwell on his words and fall for him right then and there, but it doesn't do much to help. Clearing your throat, you glance at him briefly before letting him know you visited your sister earlier. When he asks further, you also tell him what you talked about together, and what you watched. When he says he'd love to watch a movie with you another day as well, all your hopes at staying sane vanish out the window.

You leave the café an hour later, walking side by side with him. Your hands keep brushing against each other, but he doesn't do anything to pull away, so you don't either. There is constantly a smile on your face when you're around Seokmin, and if the easy conversations you have with him didn't already convince you enough to want to pursue this further, this certainly does.

You still don't know where you're headed next, blindly following Seokmin as he guides you through the streets. At one point, when you are about to step on the crosswalk at the same time as the green light switches to red, he grasps your hand in his, pulling you back until you hit his chest. Gasping, you quickly raise your eyes to meet his, obviously panicked while he just carries his carefree smile. You push yourself off him again, but let him keep holding your hand. As not to get lost, you convince yourself.

When you see how happy he is from the simple act, from being able to hold your hand for a while, you stop convincing yourself of anything and admit to yourself you also want to hold his hand. You lace your fingers with his, tugging your free hand into your pocket and looking down at the ground beneath your feet as you keep walking, the conversation with him never dying.

Finally stopping again, you look up at the building you're standing in front of, trying to figure out where he took you. "Oh no," you quickly shake your head as you read the name, facing him. "Let's not do this. Let's go somewhere else. I'm sure there is something playing in the cinema, or maybe we could go get dinner? I could even go for a swim with those sharks right now."

He chuckles at your reaction, thinking you're just joking around. But honestly, karaoke is the last thing you want to do right now. When he notices your eyes full of distress, he raises your connected hands and draws small circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. "It'll be fun, c'mon. Please, the fact that I'm technically a singer doesn't mean I'm good at karaoke," he smiles, hopping to make you feel better about this. He managed to completely forget about his worries of you not liking this as he was talking with you, but it's all slowly coming back to him now. "We don't need to be serious about this at all. Let's just laugh together and order some good food to it, hm?"

Your eyes flicker all over his face, debating turning around and running away for a good second. As much as you don't want to do karaoke tonight and find out what he thinks about your singing, you don't want to leave, though. You want to stay with him, listen to him singing, laugh a lot with him, and eat that delicious food. So, after giving it a second though while gazing into his eyes, you sigh. "Let's go in."

"Yes! You won't regret this, I promise. And, who knows, maybe we'll find out you're a much better singer than I am."

Yeah, you're convinced that won't happen. If anything, you're expecting for him to run away the moment he hears you singing, realizing you're just embarrassing and whatever he saw in you before is now gone. People tend to do that. And as much as you don't want him to be like that, you're always expecting the worst when it comes to you and music.

The karaoke room is pretty, white walls lined with colored lightnings that change it to purple, a nice brown couch that could easily fit an entire party, and most importantly, a karaoke machine with a projector. Seokmin doesn't hesitate going to the machine, already looking through the song list while you take a seat on the couch, looking around the room.

It's been a while since you last visited a karaoke place. Almost ten years, if you remember correctly. Who are you trying to fool here? You know exactly when the last time you were here was. You were fourteen, going out with your old friend and a bunch of her older friends. You were the youngest of them all, and the one in love with music much more than they were.

Thinking back to it, it was just your fault, really. Hadn't you tried so hard, hadn't you hoped for one of the older guys to notice and praise you, you would be saved from the embarrassement that followed. But at fourteen, you couldn't possibly know guys don't like music like you did, that they go here just to laugh and joke around instead of actually trying.

You thought singing your heart out would give you the attention of the boy you liked, and it did, but in a completely different way than you wished for. You still remember the Britney Spears song you sang, and how everyone looked at you weirdly when they realized you weren't just playing around like they were. They claimed you tried to embarrass them by being better, that you did it on purpose to make yourself feel superior. You tried to argue, explain the situation and apologize, but before you could do any of it, you were interrupted by who you thought was your friend. "She does this all the time. She thinks she's going to be a singer or whatever. Her notes are all full of texts she wrote in class, look."

You felt proud at first when she pulled out your notes book from your bag, but as soon as everyone started laughing while flipping through the pages, your smile quickly fell off. You quickly dropped the mic, trying your hardest not to let their words get to you and snatch the book away. At fourteen, though, it's not easy to ignore what others say about you and how they feel about the things you love.

It was never easy to ignore how others perceived you, but at that moment, even the last bits of accomplishment left you. You stopped loving music for years, completely giving up on the dream you once had. There was no reason to continue trying if what you got in return was this.

It was only after Chan came into your life that you managed to stop hating music again and pick up your old notes, smiling as you red through the lyrics you wrote as an early teen.

Sitting here now, all the bad memories you have with music come rushing back, the image of Seokmin replaced with the image of your old upper classmates, the pretty smile on his face gone and a loud, mocking laugh facing you instead.

You quickly shake your head, but the image doesn't disappear until finally, finally, Seokmin's voice reaches you, the call of your name making you snap out of it. "You're in your head," he says, not in a way that would be meant to accuse you, but rather wondering what it is you're thinking so hard about. "Do you really hate this?" He tilts his head and you're about to burst from how pretty you find him. "We can leave. I should have asked properly first if you wouldn't mind going here, I was selfish deciding on what I wanted instead of thinking about you—"

"Let's stay," you interrupt him with a smile. "I want to hear you sing live. And, I was promised some delicious food." He smiles again at your words, nodding enthusiastically.

The first song starts—a Korean ballad you heard a few times when you were little—and Seokmin's voice echoes loudly in your head instantly, helping you stay grounded in the present. He pushes aside all the bad memories of this place, doing his hardest to replace them with happy once without even knowing it as he sings while looking at you. His eyes stay locked on you, and you happily nod your head along to the rhythm, only focusing on the music.

He's great. You knew he was, but getting to hear him sing in person, his raw voice the only thing you hear in this closed room, is so much better than you thought it'd be. He motions with his hand for you to stand up and join him, but you just shake your head, refusing. When he lowers his mic so you can see his face fully, his eyes gently commanding you to listen to him, you do as he says and get up. Your steps are hesitant as you cross the room to him, but he doesn't seem to pay it any attention.

Lowering the mic to your height, he encourages you to sing with him and turn the song into a duet. You don't. Keeping your lips shut, you let only the melody play in the background with no support of the vocals. Seokmin reaches for your hand with his free one, lacing his fingers with yours again. His voice is closer to a whisper now as he continues singing, keeping your mind wondering what the right move here is. Deep down, you want nothing more than to sing with him and give into your passion again, but you're also freaked out.

You're not sure how long you just stand there for, but eventually, once a different song is on, you join in. You keep your voice quiet, enough for the mic to pick it up but not loud enough like he did before. A smile spreads on his lips—wider than before—instantly, squeezing your hand gently. It takes a moment for you to get comfortable, but as soon as you do, it's a lot easier to have fun again.

He spins you under his arm, laughing into the mic while also trying his hardest to keep the song going, glancing on the wall where the projected screen falls to check on the lyrics every now and then. You laugh with him, dancing with him to the Korean ballad he sings that certainly doesn't suit this dance. Neither of you care though, and it helps you forget about the bad memories.

Eventually, you even take the mic from him, choosing your own song to sing. He takes a seat on the couch, watching you with such a proud smile you feel like you can do anything at the moment. It's definitely thanks to him and his continuous cheers that you get to let go of your worries and sing loudly again, completely forgetting about why you stopped loving singing in the first place.

You watch the lyrics on the wall, doing your best not to mess up while he whistles behind you, causing a laugh to bubble out of you. The food he ordered after the first few songs arrives in the meantime, but you don't look back to acknowledge it. Not until the song ends and you look at Seokmin to see what he thinks.

Clapping loudly, he is unable to take his eyes off you. "Encore! Encore! Encore!" He shouts, making you laugh. You shake your head at him, taking a seat beside him on the couch and leaving the mic to rest on the table for now. "You are so amazing. I don't get why you didn't want to sing right away."

"I'm not really good," you shake your head. He doesn't need to say what he thinks about the bullshit that just left your lips, his gaze giving it away clearly enough.

"I'm not even kidding, I wonder how on earth BSS is doing so good when there are singers like you out here. You're going to steal my job," he nudges your shoulder playfully. You roll your eyes at him, but it'd be a lie to say his words won't be on repeat tonight. Your name leaves his lips, a hopeful attempt to get you to look at him again. Once you do, he offers you one of his smiles. "You are an incredible singer."

Is this what it feels like to fall in love? Your head spins. You feel drunk, drunk on him and his words. It's the same thing you've wanted to hear for ages, words of encouragement you needed so desperately when your life was falling apart at the mere age of fourteen. You could cry. You're pretty sure if he says anything else, you actually will.

So, before he can do that, you lean forward and press your lips to his.

The shock he feels is evident, but it's also gone as fast as it appeared, his hands finding your waist with ease and pulling you closer. His lips mold perfectly with your own, his hands on your skin burning in just the right way, making you feel like that's exactly where they are supposed to be. Your body inches towards him on its own, melting into him.

"Thank you," you breathe out against his lips, your voice barely above a whisper.

He watches you, a little confused and blown, his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes. "I didn't do anything," he shakes his head gently, but that's not true. He did everything you could possibly want him to do.

You had relationships before, casual hook ups but also things more serious. Not once were you told what he managed to assure you of on your first date together. Maybe it makes you easy, maybe it screams how broken you are, but you could not ask for more. It's the only thing you always ached for, to hear you shouldn't give up on your dreams and that you have potential. Your sister tried, but it never felt the same coming from her like it does hearing it from him.

"I should have asked first," you pipe nervously, still not moving away, staying with your face inches from his.

He shakes his head again, "You don't have to. In fact, please kiss me whenever you like." You chuckle at his response, his eyes desperate, never leaving yours. You nudge his shoulder with your palm, only for him to catch your wrist and lean forward, kissing you again. The smile is evident on both your and his lips as you kiss, moving closer and closer, until you're practically sitting in his lap.

You fight the urge to thank him again, for making you feel so comfortable, for making you forget about stuff, for reminding you how much you love singing, for being here with you. There is a lot you want to thank him for, but you decide not to for now. For now, you'll just settle on kissing him until you're sure he knows exactly what you're thinking.

It doesn't feel like the first date anymore as you eat, sharing giggles over the dinner. You can't explain it well, but being around him makes you feel like you've known him for years. It's easy with him, just like you always thought it was meant to be. "What's the plan after this?" You wonder, interrupting the song he is in the middle of right now. He finished eating just a few minutes back, picking up the mic right away.

He glances at you, forgetting all about the right lyrics and answering you instead. "Whatever you'd like to do. I'm open to anything. Unless you want to feed me to the sharks," he grins.

You think for a moment, your eyes flickering from his lips to his eyes, wondering where the line lies in his head. "We could watch a movie or something?" You suggest nervously.

He brings the mic to his lips, not hesitating in the slightest as he loudly sings, "Yes. Let's do that," into it.

You let him hold your hand again as you walk through the busy streets, following him to his apartment. When you suggested watching a movie, there was a lot more on your mind than just a piece of some filmography, wondering if he'd take you home with him. And now that that's exactly where you're headed, you're rethinking yourself more and more. Because while you want nothing more than to kiss him all night long, you have no idea what's going on in his head.

Seokmin's place is exactly like one might expect; clean, organized, filled with only necessities and his hobbies. There are traces of music everywhere you look, and you could not love it more. Taking off your shoes, you follow him into his living room, taking a seat on his couch while he disappears into the kitchen to fetch you something to drink. You take your time looking around, taking in the sight of his apartment.

You make yourself comfortable on the couch, waiting for him to join you. He comes back with not only a drink for the both of you but also a bag of chips, placing it all on his coffee table before taking a seat beside you. You look over at his, your expression a mix of nervousness and joy. He meets your gaze curiously, waiting for you to say what's on your mind. "What if I'd like to kiss you again?"

His smile grows. "Then I'd tell you to get here," he motions with his head for you to move and you do, allowing him to pull you into his lap. Wrapping your hands around his shoulders, you take your time looking at his face. He brushes your hair behind your ears, cupping your face gently as he leans forward and kisses you.

With one of his hands on your cheek, he grips your waist with the other, keeping you close. You ran your fingers through his hair, causing a groan to escape his lips. You feel the sound in every inch of your body, moaning into his lips yourself. You're quick to close your lips shut after, refusing to open your eyes and look at him. "Come on, pretty," he kisses the corner of your lips, and you're not sure if it was on purpose or if he missed. "Give me another one of those sounds."

You shake your head, keeping it in. Slowly opening your eyes, you find him already looking at you, his eyes full of the need and desperation you feel deep as well. "Please," he nudges your nose with his, his lips hovering over yours. "Let me hear more of you." A whine leaves past your lips as you feel him grow hard under you, the boner in his pants showing you had nothing to worry about when you thought he'd find you weird for wanting him so much already.

Sliding his hand under your shirt, he presses his palm against your hot skin, staying in place until you tell him otherwise. "Tell me what you want, hm? Where do we go from here?"

You think about it, unable to voice what you want out loud like he wants you to. Instead, you slide your hand under his shirt, feeling his abs tense under your fingertips. You trace his body, feeling his chest and then shoulders, keeping your eyes on the skin you're exposing. He let's you watch, let's you take his shirt off, and even let's you rock your hips forward on top of him. He doesn't do anything, though, waiting for you to answer like he asked.

"Min," you plead, itching for more.

"What do you need, princess?" The nicknames makes you bite your bottom lip as you glide your hips forward again, his clothed cock pressed against your core. "Do you want me to do something?" You nod, desperate. "Use your words. I want to hear you."

"Touch me, please," you beg, his smile showing that's exactly what he wanted to hear.

"Where?"

"Anywhere," you sigh.

It doesn't seem to satisfy him enough, but he he moves for now, sliding his hand up until he cups your breast. He works your shirt over your head, groaning at the sight of you in your bra. A lacy white fabric covers your breast, and as much as he knows you probably didn't wear it with the intend of him seeing it tonight, the possibility of it being true after all gets him so much more worked up. "Will the bottom match?" He trails his fingers down your skin until they land on the zipper of your pants, looking up at you.

You bite onto your bottom lip in an attempt to steady yourself, nodding. "I didn't— I didn't plan for us to end up like this—" you try to excuse, knowing exactly how it looks like. God, what will he think of you now?

"Fucking hell," he curses, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "You're so beautiful. All for me, hm?" You nod again, unable to think much about it. You're certain you'd say yes to anything right now if it means he gets his hands on you again.

Gripping your waist, he helps you roll your hips over him. You don't hesitate, leaning down to kiss him again. Feeling his muscles as you kiss him, you keep riding him, chasing after the pleasure you so desperately need. "Tell me what you're thinking about," he prompts, another whine leaving your lips upon losing the feeling of his lips on yours. "Please, talk to me."

"About how much I want this off," you tug at the hem of his pants. "And this," you do the same with yours.

He nods, "I can take care of that."

"Please."

"I'm also going to change the setting, okay?"

You nod, not questioning him in the slightest. Standing up from the couch, he grips your ass, carrying you into a different room. You wrap your legs and arms around him as quickly as you can, resting your head on his shoulder. Seokmin takes you to his room with ease, only letting you go once he is standing in front of his bed.

"I'm sorry but I don't think we're going to watch a movie anymore."

"I never wanted to watch one anyway," you shake your head and his soft smile gets replaced by a teasing smirk.

"Oh? Is that so?"

You feel your cheeks redden under his gaze, moving back on the bed until you hit the headboard. He climbs in after you, catching your ankles to pull you back to him. You yelp, but don't do anything to get from him again, getting lost in his eyes as he hovers over you. Shirtless, horny, and looking like he is absolutely gone for you—do they even get any better?

"I'm pretty sure I've liked you for the past three years, so I'm good at waiting. We don't have to do anything tonight," he assures you, just in case you'd have any doubts. "Or we could only do some things," his eyes trail down your body, his fingers coming to circle your clothed core. "I could just take care of you."

"You're pretty sure you've liked me?" There is a smile on your face as you repeat his words, watching as he scoffs in embarrassement, his red ears giving him away.

"That's the thing you decide to focus on?" You nod and he shakes his head. "I need you to tell me how far you want to go today."

"All you want me to do is talk, talk, talk," you roll your eyes before wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him flush against you. "I want to feel you inside me, Min. I want to come on your cock."

He groans as soon as you finish the sentence, thrusting his hips against you. Your lips part, which he immediately takes advantage of, stealing another kiss. You wrap yours hands behind his neck, playing with his hair as he works your pants down, not hesitating anymore. You don't stop kissing him until all your clothes are off—or at least as off as he can get them without pulling away.

Throwing them aside, he takes a moment to admire your naked body, eyes scanning every inch of your skin, memorizing it. You feel nervous, especially when he locks his eyes with your wet pussy, licking his lips at the sight. It's hot, he's hot.

Undoing his jeans as well, he gets rid of the last piece of clothing in the way, and you instantly let your eyes fall to his bare legs. You do the same as he just did, taking your time with memorizing every inch of him. Not only does he have a handsome face, his build is equally hot.

"Get here already," the command is laced with the need you feel, causing him to chuckle as he joins you again. You don't hesitate, wrapping your hand around the length of his cock as soon as he's in your reach. "I need you in."

"Keep talking and I'll come before even getting to it," he groans. "I love your voice."

"Yeah?" You tilt your head prettily, loving how desperate he looks between your legs with your hand on him. "Is that why you want me to talk so much?"

"Yes," he nods without giving it a second though. You slide your hand over his tip and he whimpers. This man fucking whimpers. Your eyes widen at the sound, your pussy clenching around nothing. There is no way you're coming back from this now, from knowing how he sounds when he is completely and utterly gone.

He pushes your legs up to your chest and you let go off him just to hold them up, watching him as he reaches for a condom and rolls it over his length. He doesn't give you what you want right away, though. Your eyes flicker over him confusedly as he doesn't move, begging him to do something. "Don't worry, pretty. I got you," he assures you, his eyes locked on your pussy.

You figure what he meant as he spreads your folds with his fingers, collecting your wetness before dipping two of his fingers in. A whine leaves past your lips as you watch him. It's crazy how good he makes you feel with just his fingers, spreading you open for him. "Min," you plead. "More."

"Don't you want to come once before?"

You shake your head quickly, not caring about that. "With you. I want to come with you."

He doesn't need to be told twice, pulling out his fingers and bringing them to his lips to taste you. You miss his fingers already, a disapproving whine escaping you. He moans at the taste of you, giving his cock a few pumps before aligning himself with your pussy.

Thrusting into you with ease, he leans down and wraps your legs around his waist instead, connecting his lips with yours again. You kiss him back, scratching his back gently as he starts to move. Digging your heels into his lower back, you keep him as close as possible, the way he makes you feel so full making your head spin.

His moves are slow and steady at first, but as soon as you moan into his ear, asking for more, he shifts his pace to suit your needs. You melt together completely, mixture of your and his moans filling the room. It's lewd, the sounds you let out, but you can't care less right now. All you care about is satisfying your urges.

He rubs your clit with his thumb, helping you get where you need. You feel every one of his veins inside, your walls clenching tightly around his length. For a second, you wonder if there is anything this man is not absolutely amazing at. Not only is a an awesome singer with a great face, full of kindness, he's also incredible at fucking you in the exact way you want him to.

"Almost there," you gasp, your mouth hanging open. Your breathes mix together due to how close you are to one another.

He nods, looking down at your connected bodies. "Me too. Just a bit more, yeah?" You nod frantically, rolling your hips forward in response. He curses under his breath, pinching your clit. Your legs shake around him as you reach your high, his name falling off your lips like a prayer.

He's right behind you, burying his head in your breast as he fills the condom, slowly thrusting into you even after to let you both ride it out. "Thank you," you breathe out, exhausted.

"Anytime," he chuckles, the easy smile you're learning to love spreading on his lips.

♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝

The sound of your phone blowing up stirs you awake in the morning. You open your eyes with much more effort than you're used to, remembering where you are once you see the room. Prompting yourself up, you search for Seokmin with your eyes. He's nowhere to be found, but judging by how warm the side of the bed he slept in still is, you're assuming it's not long since he woke up as well.

After showing together last night, and getting one more orgasm out, you fell asleep in his shirt and boxers, cuddled up in his arms. It felt amazing to be held like that, dreams coming easier than ever before.

Remembering why your sleep was interrupted, you reach for your phone on his nightstand. Thankfully, you brought it over here before going to bed last night, otherwise it'd be going off in the living room where you originally left it.

There are messages from both Chan and your sister, but the one that catches your attention the most is from your boss. Jennie doesn't text you much unless it's important. Opening the chat with her, you find a link attached with a simple question: 'That's you, isn't it?'

Before you can think properly, realize what you're watching, you're rushing out of the bed, searching for Seokmin. "Good morning," he smiles at you warmly, a plate filled with scrambled eggs and bread in his hands, a matching one lying in front of him on the counter. He opens his mouth, probably to explain he made breakfast for the two of you, but closes it again when he sees your face—your eyes wide, clearly panicked and distressed. "Is everything okay?"

You shake your head, unable to look away from him as you grip your phone in your hands. "Why did you— Why did you post that?" Despite trying your hardest not to, your voice stutters, partly from the betrayal you feel and partly because what the fuck? Why would he do that to himself?

His brows furrow, confusion written all over him. Not because he wouldn't know what you're talking about, he knows exactly what post you're referring to, but no matter how hard he tries to, he can't seem to understand why you're so upset, why you're looking at him like he just pointed the gun at you.

"What— Let's sit down, pretty, okay? Let's talk about what's bothering you. Tell me what goes in that head of yours." He places the plate in his hands down, not hesitating to cross the room and get into your space.

"You need to delete it," you state quickly, not stepping away from him but also not inching forward. "You—" You frown when you see the look in his eyes. "How does none of this bother you? Have you even checked to see what people are saying? How your followers count changed? What this can do to BSS? The guys or—"

He doesn't let you go into a spiral like you'd like to, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into him. "I didn't check because I don't care," he whispers into your hair. You hesitate about hugging him back, carefully wrapping your arms around his sides when he doesn't let go off you. "I wanted everyone to hear how great you sound, so I shared it."

"I care though," you complain. "You need to delete it." He shakes his head against you, but doesn't verbally argue again. "This is going to be bad for your image."

"I don't care," he repeats. "Let it be bad for me if it's good for you. Let the world hear your voice, it's beautiful." You take a step back, looking up at him and shaking your head. "I've known this ever since the day I first heard you, and they should all know it too. Who cares if some people don't like me because they're insecure I might have a girlfriend and they don't—which I'm not labeling you as, I swear. I'll need a date or two before I ask you for that title." His rush makes you chuckle, but it doesn't help how you feel about the situation.

You gave up on music when you were still a child because of this exact reason, because you let people hear you sing. You don't want to hate music again. You're desperate to not let it come to it, and the only way you see possible is to convince him to delete the video off his feet and pray no one saw it. You can only see the laughs, the faces of your childhood friends, or what you thought they were, as they laughed at you for having a passion, as they made sure you wouldn't dream about something so stupid again.

It's not only that, though. As much as you're scared for yourself, you're scared for him. For him losing his passion, his love for music, all because he decided to post a video of you singing on his account, thinking it would be good for you.

This can't be good for either of you. You're convinced.

"You need to delete it," you beg again.

He doesn't acknowledge your comment, simply smiling at you. "Let's have breakfast together, hm?"

Sitting on his couch, your knees pulled to your chest, and an almost empty plate in your hands, you bring it up again. "Seokmin, I'm serious. I need you to delete the video. Now."

He sets his empty plate on the table, turning to face you in his seat. "If that's what you really want me to do, then I will. But please, tell me you don't want me to just because you think it's going to hurt my image or anything like that. I'm also serious, and I think you deserve all the love in the world. I think you deserve for your voice to be heard and appreciated by not only me, but everyone else as well."

You swallow as you look at him, letting your gaze fall down to your legs. How do you explain to a man as perfect as him that, even though it's been ages, you're haunted by the memory of your peers making fun of you for the exact same reason he now wants them to appreciate you. How do you tell him that you fear other people's opinions more than anything else in the world, and have no idea how to move without letting it consume you?

"I could get fired," you whisper. "For being with you. Crossing the line." You're not sure if Jennie would actually fire you for this, but you can't cross the option out. It's not only you who depends on people's views, it's also the radio, Chan, and Seokmin's group too, no matter how much he says he doesn't care. "It's not professional."

He moves closer to you, cupping your face so you'd look at him. "We could figure that out together. I could help, if you'd let me," he tries to hard to find a solution for you, to show you how much he wants to keep the video out there, to have you out there. "You don't always have to do the right thing. The professional thing. The grown up thing."

You frown, because you're pretty sure you do. You need to be perfect to save yourself from those disgusted looks again. "It's okay to be selfish sometimes. It's okay to chase after things you want, even if it means being immature." Your eyes soften instantly, because you're sure you heard similar words before. From Chan. When he first found out you love music like he does, and that you can produce it even though you keep from it, he said something along the lines as well. He didn't know anything about why you were so keen on not being involved with music so much, still doesn't, but he probably had an idea unlike Seokmin, who is trying his hardest to assure you it's okay to want this without even knowing what it is that bothers you deep down.

"Do you know how many times I've been called a child?" You don't answer, letting him continue. "If you let me help, I promise I'll take care of everything that worries you. I'll make sure nothing happens to BSS or your radio show, that you can stay with Chan and do what you love. And if it's what you want, then I'll also love to help you purse this career, because I truly believe you should. I think you should sing, if that'd be something you'd enjoy."

"It would," you admit quietly and his smile grows wider. "It always has been."

"Okay," he nods, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, tender, kiss. "Then let's do something about that, hm?"

♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝

If someone told you weeks ago that you'd be in the recording studio with Woozi and your boyfriend on the other side of the glass, you would have laughed in their face.

You're not sure if the fact Woozi is helping you produce this song or the fact you get to call Seokmin your boyfriend that is more unbelievable right now.

You let him keep the video of you singing at karaoke up, deciding to face your fear and see what would happen if people heard you sing. To your surprise, except for the few people hating simply for the fact you were suddenly on their artists' feed, others were supportive of you getting into the music industry. Fans who already knew your from the broadcast were amazed when they heard you sing, and the rest were immediately asking for your social to see more of you.

You couldn't have been happier at the moment.

"Let's go from the top again," Woozi tells you and you nod, glancing briefly at Seokmin, who wears the proudest smile on his face as he watches you record your own song.

It's a dream come true, really.

You called Jennie as soon as you decided to trust Seokmin and believe it'd be possible to pursue this, asking her if she's mad at you and needs you to take the video down anyways. She laughed into your ear before assuring you that's not why she texted you. She explained how she looked at you at the studio as soon as the video reached her, wanting to question you for not telling her you have such talent way sooner, only to find a giddy Chan in the room. He took his time talking about all the times you spend writing lyrics with him and helping him produce his songs, praising you to her just like he always did.

Both Seokmin and her decided to call a few people that day, trying to make sure it doesn't cause any damage to him or BSS as you worried, and also to see if there's a way to get you into a studio.

Which eventually happened. It happened.

"Great work today," Jihoon praises you with a smile. Your cheeks flush, but before you can thank him, Seokmin steps into your vision, opening his arms for you. You gladly steps into them, offering him a kiss.

"The best," he praises. "My pretty girl who can just do about anything."

You shake your head at him, wondering what you did to deserve all this. "Thank you," you whisper so only he can hear, stepping away again to look at your favorite producer. "Thank you for helping me so much. I hope I don't leave you disappointed with the result."

Jihoon shakes his head. "You have a great voice, and we all know it. You won't disappoint me or anyone else for the matter. Just keep chasing."

Yeah, you'll do just that.