A message from a colleague of yours; Aida, who’s probably right. But that didn't make the thought of venturing out into such a crippling social climate any more tempting. So your options were: stay home and continue working and hope you hit another breakthrough and make a lot of money. Or, go out and find other artists to potentially work with and inevitably make even more money... Decisions.. You weren’t going to make that much as just a producer if you didn’t aim higher and work with bigger artists, but your quaint life now was nothing to complain about either.

 Rather than stare at your now black phone screen for any longer, you opted for tossing it aside to continue working for another ten minutes before you would decide. But your plans were thwarted when you saw your phone screen flashing with another message. You tisked before picking it up, needing to know what she said next despite your tendency to not actually reply back.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Another text.

“”Why go out when I could just not?” But I’m serious. Your name is already out there in the music scene, they know your work. You just need to go out there and meet people. Your work is unique, you need to stop squandering your potential by being such a shut in.” 

“Well damn.” You typed the words quickly into your messenger before hitting send, leaning back in your desk chair to watch the little dots that signaled she was typing something back.

“So, will you go?” 

“I guess. Since now you’ve wounded my pride and all.” You hit send and continued typing.

“When and where” 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll pick you up at 9, ok? Just wear something cool and I’ll handle the rest.”

 You sighed before tossing your phone down where you had previously. It was only 5pm so at least you had time for your original plans for the day. It wasn’t like you weren’t grateful to her for dragging you out all the time, the results were always in your favor. You just found it bothersome how little notice she would grant you. But it was probably just her knowing that giving you more time would just mean more time for you to slither your way out. 

 You loved the work you did, you just wished that working on bigger songs that reached more people didn’t require actually talking to them.. An email would suffice, a phone call maybe. Only meeting in the studio for recordings or to finalize the finished product, but again that could be done just as smoothly with the big wall that is your desktop separating you from whoever it was you were working with. You just wanted to work, not have small talk, not get coffee and ramble on about whatever topics had nothing to do with the actual music you were working on. You just wanted to socialize enough to solidify a concept; build a track to represent it, record it, and wrap it up with a fresh new bow to be released to the public. Simple, or so you thought.

 It might be important and beneficial to get to know who you were working with for other people, but for you it just cramped your creativity. Its harder to think when you have someone leaning over you and giving input; good input sure, but input on a track you weren’t anywhere finished with wasn’t helping. It was like backseat driving, ‘yeah I’ll switch lanes when I’m ready, just gimmy a sec, jeez’. 

 You shook it off as another inevitable occurrence, trying to think only of the positives. If what Aida was telling you was true; and A list musicians were actually going to be there, this could be huge for you. So far you had worked mostly with the more underground hip-hop and rnb scene, helping with a few breakthrough tracks here and there. That was enough for you, and by now you didn’t need to; or more so didn’t have time, to work on your own solo music. It was just for fun anyway, and you didn’t expect your own music to gain that much traction. You wouldn’t describe it as “palatable” to the average listener, it was all experimental. A commenter once described it as “ambient electronic wailing with a slow hip-hop beat”, and you liked that description well enough.

 You clicked the spacebar on your computer and let the track you were working on replay through your speakers. But just like before, you saw your phone flashing.

“You better be getting ready.” 

You grumbled before typing your reply.

“I have hours Aida, I’m working rn..”

You waited on her this time, not wanting to get interrupted again.

“And how long has it been since you’ve actually left the house? You must be tripping over your leg hairs by now. Get to weed wacking, you need to look fresh like your music. THIS IS A BIG DEAL.”

“It’s not that long, damn. Who is it I’m trying to impress anyway?” 

“The word on the street is that BTS is going.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m serious! Idols y/n!”

“*Gasp* Oh my gOSh for reaLz?.. I’m not shaving for some rumored “ Idol party”. That’s not my gig anyway.”

“It could be if you’d actually try. And you already said yes so you’re going.”

“If this is true at all, how the hell are you getting us in?”

“I told you I would handle it. I was thinking you should wear that black tunic top you have.. The asymmetrical one with the hood?  And leather pants! Gotta be leather.. I think heels might be trying too hard though..”

“You taking up styling now?”

“So you’ll go?”

“Sounds like I don’t have a choice anyway.”

“You don’t. See you at 7.”

𝟷̲𝟶̲:̲𝟸̲𝟹̲𝚙̲𝚖͢

 Aida had her whole frame stretched across the middle console of the taxi she insisted on calling. Pointing frantically and shouting for the driver to turn in whatever wild directions she had to wherever it was she was taking you. You sat to the left of her, behind the driver's seat. Just watching the streetlights pass by. A palm drumming on your thighs to the beat in your head. Her loud voice was easy enough to ignore, but you were beginning to regret leaving with her. You had this bubbling anxiety growing in your chest; nothing too crippling, but you could feel it and it was growing more annoying the closer you got. 

“Oh! There it is! It’s just up here on the left! You can drop us off out back, -let me find my wallet..” 

You turned to where she pointed, not really having noticed what part of town you were in until now. 

“A hotel..? Are you sure this is the right place..?” 

“Yes! Its a 5 star hotel and it’s full of ballrooms they rent out for events like this. This is the real deal y/n, not some shoddy bar like you’re use to.” 

You scoffed. “Well whatever, let’s just get this over with..”

 “Stop being like that- Here you go, keep the change~” She started to scurry her way out of the backseat, fiddling around to get her wallet back into her purse. You followed, sliding across the seats towards the open car door. 

 You stepped out, gravel crunching under your boots. Aida was already booking it towards the back entrance. Her long curls tussling about behind her and bouncing with every step. You sped up,closing the distance from behind her. 

“So what’s the plan? Just waltz in? There’s a bouncer.”

 She hushed you before walking right up to the guy. He wasn’t anything intimidating, just tall.. Very tall, towering over her with zero effort.

“I’m sorry miss, if you’re here for a reservation with the hotel you’ll need to go through the front entrance. We have an event going on tonight.” 

You took a step next to her, taking notice of the way the bouncers eyes lingered on you.

“I’m aware.” She giggled. “The event is what I-we’re here for.” 

“U-hum-” He began, chuckling and looking down at her as if he was speaking to a confused little girl. “This is invite only, do you have an invite?” 

“Nope. But I have her~” She chimed, leaning into you and tipping you to the side with her cheery smile and batted eyelashes. ‘This was your plan..?’

The guard merely cleared his throat and turned to you. “And do you have an invite?”

“Nope. Sorry to waste your time, we’ll be on our way now.” Your latched an arm around Aida to drag her away but she stopped you. Typical.

“Hey! Y/n! -This is Y/N Y/L/N. Aka. CenøByte.” 

He glowered. Staring at Aida with dead eyes and towering doubt.

“That producer?.. Well that’s a new one, no one's pretended to be her before..” 

“HaHA!-” She jumped up, clinging onto your shoulder with her pointy nails and shaking you back and forth. “I told you people know your name!” 

“I know a lot of names. It’s part of the job, but I’m guessing you can’t prove this as your actual identity.” 

You huffed a ‘correct’ before turning back around to leave. 

“Y/N Don’t you dare! Show him your twitter or something.” You rolled your eyes making it very obvious that your irritation was directed to her and her alone, but continued to dig your phone out of your back pocket despite it all. 

“Hold on... “ You opened the app and flipped it to your account page with your username and blue check clearly there.  “Here.. I’m legit. -But this still isn’t an invite so I’ll gladly leave.” 

He reached for your phone, squinting at the screen to verify.

“We’ll I’ll be damned. Hey, that one song you did with ___ was pretty dope. You know what?-” He handed your phone back and wrapped his long arms around to pull something out of his pocket. “I’m not supposed to do this, but I don’t see a real issue-” He leaned over you entirely now, pushing Aida out of the picture as he held a tiny black notepad in front of you.

“You sign this, and I’ll slip you an invitation.”

“Wait, for real..?” You deadpanned. Aida was already jumping for joy. “YES!! I KNEW THIS WOULD WORK!” 

“Yeah. I’ve bounced a lot of parties by now, and I have a lot of autographs. But you? You’re so elusive I doubt anyone even knows what you look like. And you never show up to these things, The boss has even tried to invite you to a couple but no one knows your address-”

“I prefer emails...”

“- Right.. Anyway, an autograph from you’s probably pretty coveted.. Deal?”   

You turned to Aida for input but she was practically screaming at you through telepathy. Her voice in your head already -’You better sign that before I beat you within an inch of your life.’

“Deal..” You stuttered out, grabbing the tiny notepad and pen from his hands and scribbling down your stage name. Something you had never been asked to do before. 

“Well, here you go I guess..” 

He hummed as he looked down at your scribbled writing.

“A little sloppy, you should work on that. Was this your first autograph?”

You reached up and grasped the back of your neck sheepishly before replying.

“Yeah, that obvious?” 

“Yeah. But that’s ok-” His eyes crinkled as he smiled down at you. “-Just makes this more special. You two can head inside, just don’t forget you’re old pal here when you’re on magazine covers, ok?” 

You gave him a weak smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

He stepped aside and bowed just slightly to signal you inside. You pushed the door open; holding it and nodding for Aida to go in ahead of you. She did, a smug smile pulling at her features. 

“Told you I had a plan.” She said matter of fact, swaying her long curls back and forth as she walked ahead of you down the corridor. 

“You’re insane.. But what else is new.”

𝟷̲𝟶̲:̲𝟹̲𝟾̲𝚙̲𝚖͢

 It was dark inside, barely lit by the ornate chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. A wide open space with several couches and a full bar that sat at the back side of the ballroom. It was filled with people, many of which you recognized from tabloids and music shows.

“Oh shit, you weren’t kidding.” You whispered, nudging Aida awkwardly. 

She gasped dramatically, eyes glued on a man across the room. 

“I think I found my future husband, gotta dash.” She took several steps away from you before you could react to her sudden outburst.

“Hey! Are you leaving me!?” She scoffed but turned back regardless.

“You’ll be fine, go be productive or something.” 

 You glowered as she made her way across the room, leaving you alone in the middle of so many strangers you didn’t want to have to deal with. 

‘Should have guessed this would happen.’ You sighed, trying to ignore all the eyes you were now all too aware of. Alone and an intruder at such a high profile party, this wasn’t what you signed up for. You tried to ignore the way your chest began to tighten while making a B-line for the bar. If you had to deal with this situation you at least wanted to be happily intoxicated.

 You took a seat at one of the open bar stools, closest to the wall, and tapped your nails against the counter as you waited for the bartender to acknowledge your presence. He was busy with several other guests and that was understandable, you nodded in appreciation when he signaled to you that he would be over when he was free. You tried your best to relax, swiveling your seat around so that you could lean against the wall and observe the room. You could see Aida already flirting shamelessly with the man she had spotted earlier. He looked familiar; real handsome and tall, but you couldn’t place where you had seen him before. You could almost hear her girlish giggle from over the music and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. You moved on, glancing about the many faces around the room. It was such a versatile mix. Idols, singers, a few actors you even knew. You spotted a couple of men you thought you recognized from Got7 but weren’t involved enough to know for sure, much less their names. No BTS though, they would be hard to miss with how many billboards and TV appearances you had seen them on. But you could gloat to Aida about how wrong she was on that later. 

You sighed again. 

 This really wasn’t your scene. What was she expecting you to do here anyway? Find an artist you were compatible with and work together? Was anything ever that simplistic? You didn’t know these people and they sure as hell didn’t know you, and starting conversations with strangers wasn’t exactly your strong suit.  You had half a mind to just up and leave when someone grabbed your attention. A man slumped into the stool next to yours, waving the bartender over immediately. That already gave you a twinge of frustration. There were plenty of seats not next to you, and you were clearly waiting first.  

“Never seen you before.” 

You hummed in reply.

“Who are you?” His tone was so dry it gave you the urge to just ignore him and move on. Instead you bit back your annoyance; this wasn’t the place to be such a hot fuse.

“Does it matter?” 

“Ya. Kinda. Should you even be here?” 

“Probably not.” He lifted a brow at you before taking a slow sip of his whisky. 

“Then how the hell did you get in?” 

“I signed an autograph.” You spoke plainly, not wanting to elaborate.

 He raised a skeptical brow. 

“Who’s?” 

“My own?” 

He hummed and nodded before taking another slow sip. 

“Are you really not going to tell me your name?”

“Its CenøByte. Doesn’t change much, does it?’

“ CenøByte ?”

You tilted your head down in a nod. 

“Are you.. That producer?” 

“Well yeah. What, is there someone else with that name? Dang, and I thought I was original.”

He scoffed at you just as the bartender was coming back around.

“We’ll I’d sure hope not. You really need an upgrade.” 

You caught yourself mid eye roll as you moved to give your order. The bartender gave you a bright customer service smile before leaning in.

“-Sorry hun, what’ll you have.” You cringed at the name. 

“Just a whisky.” His face fell.

“Oh, I’m sorry! No can do -I just poured the last of it. Is there anything else I can get you?” Of course. ‘What kind of idol party isn’t fully stocked anyway..’ 

You sighed. “A bourbon then.”

“You’ve got it!” He smiled again before dipping away to make your last resort option. You glanced back at the man next to you, him eyeing you knowingly. Glass of whisky in hand.

“Sorry- “

“-Don’t. And what is your stage name anyway, since you think mine is so outdated.” You quipped, drumming your fingers against the counter impatiently as you waited.  

There was a look in his dark eyes that you couldn’t quite read. 

“You crash a high profile party and you don’t even know the guests? Cute. So whatever could you be here for then, hm?” 

 If he wasn’t already getting on your last nerve, he certainly was now. But you played the game anyway. After all, Aida did want you to socialize. No one said you need to be nice about it. 

“The whisky of course, but we know how that went.” 

There was something familiar about his smile, sly but sweetened by his soft features. Something about his hair too, the way he had the underneath shaved but his long bangs swept just along his brow. You were sure you'd seen him on tv before but you couldn’t place where or with who. Not that it matter to you anyway, he stole your whisky so therefore he was irrelevant.

“Then I guess you’ll be leaving soon.”

“Oh gosh, am I bothering you? I heard all you Idol types were assholes behind the scenes but this is truly something.” The words came out before you could stop yourself. Thankfully the bartender came with your drink and a little straw you didn’t much need. He set the glass down in front of you, giving you a smile and a wink before he rushed back over to his other guests. 

“If you don’t know my stage name, how do you know I’m an idol?” You met his playful gaze with laxed irritation. 

“You’re right.-” Your smirked, stirring your bourbon before looking him dead in the eye to continue. “You’re too scrawny to be an idol.” The way his jaw dropped in shock made your night, him nodding as he took another sip. 

“Ok bitch, damn. Maybe that should be your stage name.” His tone was playful despite his words, and it managed to make you smile for the first time in a long while. There was a glint in his eyes when he regarded you. His name was right on the tip of your tongue..

You downed the rest of your bourbon before speaking again.

“Bitch, huh? Soo creative. You must be a producer.”

“I am.. Among other things.” Another sip. 

His name had to be something short. Something catchy. Something with an A in it? Maybe a D?

“And my stage name is Suga, for the record.”

Yikes.