☼.⋆｡𖦹 °˖

he still isn't sure which one yubin falls into but all he knows is that she's been watching him ever since she started playing, like she's already bracing herself for whatever comes out of his mouth next -- somehow, that's more distracting than the demo itself.

he lets out an exhale through his nose before leaning forward, resting his forearm against the desk. "you know what's funny?" his eyes stay on the laptop, one finger tracing over the waveform without actually touching the screen. "i can't tell if you stopped because you thought it was finished..." he pauses as the corner of his mouth pulling into something that barely qualifies as amusement. "or because you didn't know where to take it next." unfinished songs all had a habit of exposing the person behind them whether they meant to or not, and this one feels like it gets caught between two ideas before either of them has the chance to fully land.

his head tilts slightly as he listens to the last few bars again in his memory. the melody itself isn't the problem -- if it were, he'd have said so already. what keeps bothering him is the feeling that she'd started second-guessing herself somewhere in the middle. "i think you're editing yourself while you're writing." the words come out without much thought toward how they'll sound. "that's why it feels like it keeps pulling its punches." he finally looks over at her then, catching the careful way she'd been reading his face instead of interrupting him.

his words however sinks into her head like an anchor for thoughts. she hates admitting that whatever taeoh says is right but she has been in a bit of a pinch recently from the lack of musing or ideas that could run in her head. everything that comes out of and materializes in her composition weren't even up to her own standards and frankly she could not pinpoint what exactly that she wants to present. it was rather obvious that her pieces had gone through many rounds of edits as pointed out by the latter. even yubin was not a fan of her self criticism or the edits she made, thinking the latest version would sound better than the older ones but alas, all remains lost when she didn't know exactly what sort of message she's trying to deliver in her work.

"fine," she sighs dejectedly and softens her expression in case it gave taeoh the impression that she was still waiting on any criticism in her work. true to his words, if he was not happy with it or had wanted to have a say, he would have done so earlier but instead he listened the entirety of it and for that, she's grateful even if she refuses to verbalize it.

today he’s trying very hard to have a good day. he’s been smiling and saying please and thank you more than usual, keeping his eyes off his addictive phone, and he’d finally cracked a book open again, despite not having had much time to read. it had made him feel mentally sharp and energized like all of his sources said it would.

he’s feeling alright. hell, he’s sort of feeling good. his guard’s down. it shouldn’t be. it shouldn’t be, it shouldn’t be, it shouldn’t be. he walks directly into disaster—one second, he’s walking with a pep in his step in his own personal space. the next, he’s covered in someone else’s coffee.

“aw man,” he complains, louder than he probably should’ve. he grabs the hem of his t-shirt and peels the wet cotton outward, as away from his body as he can while still staying fully covered. he looks down at the discolored print, almost sure to stain. it’s his favorite t-shirt.

he sighs heavily, all of his energy immediately depleting, and looks at the perpetrator.

“no, i’m sorry about your coffee,” he says, lacking conviction. he drops the hem and the t-shirt sags back into place. it’s cold and gross-feeling. he’s not having a good day.

then the guy running the session calls their names for pairings.

sohn yubin.

taeoh doesn't quite roll his eyes, but his mouth thins into a flat line. oh, if his day couldn't get any worse than this. "are you kidding me..." he mutters under his breath, a dry sound meant only for himself as he leans back against the table.

he glances across the room, catching the exact second her shoulders drop. she looks just as thrilled as he is, which is fine by him. the prospect of spending the next few hours stuck in a vocal booth with her already gives him a headache. they never see eye to eye on this stuff. she goes by pure feeling and instinct; he wants things to actually make sense and fit a proper layout. it's just exhausting being back in these dynamics again.

he pushes himself out of the chair, walking toward the smaller tracking room without waiting to see if she's behind him.

the heavy door shuts behind them, cutting off the noise from the hallway. taeoh doesn't look at her as he tosses his notebook onto the table and grabs the main connector cord, plugging it into his phone.

he finally turns around, leaning his hip against the edge of the desk, crossing his arms.

people of polar opposites don't mesh well, yubin learns this. there's no romantism of 'opposites attract', not like the case of sohn yubin and kang taeoh. she prefers writing music following her heart; words crafting from her own feelings or 'at the moment' and she couldn't say much for the case for the origin idol. ( she doesn't admit to him, or will ever admit that she checks out all his credit discography when their rift first happened and how she had liked some of his writing but he would never hear that from her, 'least not until he confesses up why he had always been so hostile towards her. )

instead, she leans over to yeona, who had been her companion for the day in the studio and starts bugging older member who seem rather concentrated on her task than yubin will ever be today. in rare occasions of her being the annoying young sibling vibes, she squints over the words that yeona has written before letting out a dramatized gasp over what seems to be some lyrics written with tones of romance. "who are you writing about, unnie?"

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄  𝐌𝐄  𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘  𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋  𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒  𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆,  the  words  thread  themselves  into  the  page,  pencil  scratching  against  the  paper  like  the  warm  breeze,  light,  airy,  sincere,  like  they  were  pouring  out  from  her  like  a  steam  of  consciousness.  for  someone  who  thought  so  carefully  on  her  words,  on  her  next  move,  on  what  the  consequences  would  be  for  breathing  too  hard,  looking  at  something  too  long,  and  everything  else  in  between,  the  lyrics  poured  themselves  out  through  the  graphite  without  hesitation.  yeona  jots  down  another  line,  love  resembles  only  a  misty  dream  —  only  for  reality  to  come  crashing  down  on  her  again,  this  time  in  the  form  of  her  companion's  voice,  and  all  too  quickly  the  older  female  is  holding  her  notepad  to  her  chest.

"oh,  binnie-ah,"  she  laughs,  cheeks  tinting  pink,  obviously  startled,  though  she  tries  to  take  advantage  of  the  moment  by  hiding  away  her  lyrics  under  the  guise  of  simply  being  surprised.  "you  scared  me,"  the  words  come  out  gentle,  playful  even,  and  she  tries  to  inconspicuously  flip  over  the  notebook  so  it's  facing  down  in  her  lap.

"i'm  not  writing  about  anyone,  silly,"  she  says,  perhaps  too  casually,  too  nonchalantly,  but  yeona  has  long  since  been  trained  in  the  art  of  diminishing  her  feelings,  hiding  away  her  heart  so  it  never  saw  the  light  of  day.  maybe  that's  why  she's  so  surprised  that  today's  session  came  so  easily  to  her  —  even  on  a  good  day,  yeona  was  not  musically  inclined  in  the  same  way  yubin  and  many  of  her  other  groupmates  (  and  other  idols  at  large  )  were.  she  was  a  good  enough  singer,  a  good  enough  dancer,  perhaps  leaning  above  average  industry  standards  if  one  squinted  hard  enough,  but  her  talents  didn't  lie  in  producing,  writing  lyrics,  or  even  really  much  of  anything  when  it  came  to  the  behind  the  scenes  magic  that  came  with  creating  a  title  track.

oftentimes,  she  simply  came  with  yubin  to  these  sessions  for  moral  support,  wanting  to  be  there  for  someone  close  to  her,  not  because  she  ever  was  any  good  at  vocalizing  anything  worth  debuting.  yeona  was  good  at  being  there  for  people  she  loved,  and  she  also  wasn't  half  bad  at  modeling,  but  creating  something  beautiful  through  words  and  compositions  like  yubin  could  —  well,  that  really  wasn't  her  strong  suit.

there was a form of envious lurking in her heart but more so anger if yubin thinks about it. not one directed to yeona but at herself. she has been struggling as of lately to get any words out of her head and wonders if she's only capable of articulating strings of poised wordings only when she feels something or for someone. she supposed if mozart can dedicate mass in c minor for constanze and that elizabeth barrett browning has sonnets for her husband then it wasn't at a complete fault to feel like she needed to dedicate her writings off to someone. except that she's got no one in particular like that.

at the mention of some fresh breath of air, there's a slow but excited reaction that comes from yubin as she nods with the suggestion. "that would sound really great actually." she mutters softly, already getting up from her seat and stretches out as if she's done anything much that needed such gesture from her. ( hey, thinking does take a lot of brainpower! )