#producer!reader

“Ethan? Harry? It’s like-” You crane your neck to check the wall-mounted clock, wincing as it cracks, “two in the morning. Is everything okay?” Well, obviously it wasn’t. The cold night air invades your home, and you can smell Harry from where you’re standing. He smells like he dove into a pool of gin and beer. Gross. 

Harry notices you wrinkle your nose at him and his face falls. He leans heavily on Ethan, who scrambles to keep Harry upright as he tries to straighten up. “Y/NNNN!” He screeches again, even though you’re standing right in front of him. Ethan removes one of his hands from Harry’s torso so that he can conceal a laugh. “YOUUU didn’t come to our party tonight.” He points accusingly. Your eyes widen, and you glance at Ethan, who can’t seem to look you in the eyes.

“Yeah. I kind of had stuff to do-”

“IT’SSSNOT IMPORTANT STUFF!” Harry shakes his head pityingly at you, his blond hair falling messily. “All of these excuses, y/n!”

“If I don’t do this ‘unimportant stuff’, you guys don’t have a job anymore. You know that, right? It’s important to me that you know that.” As if Harry can sense the minor hostility in your voice, he doesn’t comment. He is drunk off of his head, and you sincerely doubt he’ll remember this tomorrow. “So, what brings you two here? Again, at two AM in the morning.”

“He refused to be dropped off anywhere else, y/n. Bog was practically crying ‘cause he thought I was taking him to his flat instead of here.” Ethan rubs a hand on Harry’s back in a patronising sympathy. Harry turns to his friend, betrayed.

“Er- ETHAN! I was not fucking crying, thank you! I just wante– I wanted to see y/nnnn. Where is she?” He looks around, before his eyes land on you and his face lights up. You can’t help but let a small smile spread across your face. “Y/N! There you are. I missed you!” Harry’s voice reaches a shrill volume again, and you wince, knowing that your poor neighbours will be hearing every word. There’s a quiet trill of excitement inside of your mind, caused by the fact that Harry missed you.

“Here I am.” You say agreeably. “Well. You’ve seen me. Which means I guess you guys can go?” You try to close the door, but Harry frees himself from Ethan’s grip, putting his full body weight on it. Both you and Ethan put an arm forwards, scared that he’s going to fall. You place your laptop on the console table by the door. “Harry-”

“Oh, say my name again, please.” You share another glance with Ethan, both of you cringing at Harry’s words. He’s gonna hate himself in the morning, but there’s a part of you that’s kind of loving him right now. “I don’t wanna- I want to stay here. Don’t wanna go with fuckin’ Ethan. That fat fuckin’ prick I can barely even fit in the car-” He murmurs to himself. 

You had heard that Harry was a mean drunk, even seen it in person a few times- like when he told ChrisMD’s ex that no one would care if she died, but it always seemed like he made an effort to not be as Harry-like towards you. And also, there was that one time when he called your ex-fiancé, Patrick, a (to quote him) “pig-faced fucker who was seriously punching above his weight” and then said he’d be “surprised if [you] didn’t leave Patrick for someone with a bigger dick and bigger wallet”, but, if anything, that was kind of a compliment to you.

He’d apologised after, of course, and both you and Harry moved on with your lives. Although, if you were being honest, it kind of seemed like Harry didn’t want to spend time with you outside of the office after that - which was fine! Up until 5 months ago, you were happily engaged, and the only time Harry had been to your house was when you and Patrick had your house-warming party, so you were even more surprised that he remembered your address and wanted to come to your house.

“Oi!” Ethan poked his friend in the side. “You’re bigger than me right now. Keep that filthy mouth shut, Bog!” 

Harry shakes his head emphatically, moving off of your door and back towards Ethan, “Nah! You’re packing on them pounds again, Behz. Swear to God. Swear to God.” You continue to watch awkwardly as they bicker in your doorway. You check the wall mounted clock again, and see that not as much time had passed as you thought.

You clear your throat, bringing the attention back onto you. “Oh gosh, look at the time. Well. It’s been lovely seeing you both. Erm- I’m not like, in the office tomorrow but if you need anything you both have my email address. So. Yeah. Have a good night, guys.” Your grip on your front door tightens and you go to close it. Harry practically launches himself at you. 

“DON’TTTLEAVE!” Harry shrieks.

“I’m not the one leaving, Harry!” You raise your voice slightly, and he stops still, looking like a kicked puppy. He collapses onto Ethan, loudly fake sobbing.

“Oughh, she hates me! Ethan, Behz, y/n hates me.” Ethan rubs a hand on his back, shooting you another apologetic shrug. “She’sssooooomeantoME!” You tiredly rub your eyes. Harry continues to wail on Ethan’s shoulder. Ethan notices that you’re drooping, and tries to pull Harry away.

“C’mon, Bog. Let’s get you home, shall we?” 

Harry also seems to realise this. He straightens up again. “No. No. I want to be here. With y/n!” Harry says, shaking his head with such force that you’re genuinely worried he might make himself sick. “You’re trying-trying to take me awayyyyy!” He begins to fake sob again.

Ethan quietly leans around past Harry to you, “Look, I’m really sorry but I do actually need to go home, even if Harry doesn’t want to. I promised Faith-”

You wave him off, looking at Harry who is seemingly deaf on account of his own volume, “I- you know what, it’s fine. I’ll just call him a taxi or something. And I have like, a spare room, I guess. If all else fails. So-” There’s a selfish part of you that wants to be the one to take care of him, and you feel slightly nauseous at that.

“I promise, y/n, I’ll pay you back if you have to get him a cab.” He leans back in towards Harry, who is still fake crying. “BOG!” Ethan yells in his ear, making him jump and glare at Ethan. “I have to leave. Either join me or don’t. y/n has offered very kindly to house you for the night or order you a taxi-” Without even saying goodbye, Harry bolts past Ethan into your house. “Well.” You both stand there for a second before laughing. 

“I should- make sure he doesn’t like, break anything. I guess. Get home safe, Ethan. Give my love to Faith and Olive.” Ethan nods and smiles, waving as he goes to get in his car. You close the door, leaning your head against it for the moment. You inhale, lock the door, and exhale. It’s fine. It’s just Harry. In the house you used to share with your ex-fiancé. Who Harry famously didn’t like. Where there were still some pictures hanging around the place because you couldn’t bring yourself to take them down yet. You grab your laptop off of the hallway table, and go to find Harry. 

You walk through the living room, and see evidence of where he kicked his shoes off, you pick them both up, tucking them under your arm. Harry’s in your kitchen, and he’s somehow managed to find your secret stash of white wine. He’s set up two glasses on the counter (neither matching nor wine glasses, but you’ll let it slide), but you see him with his back to you, and realise he’s actually just necking the bottle. You stand frozen for a second. It’s then you decide that nope, Harry cannot get a taxi home. He’ll get murdered and left for dead in the streets of London, and it’ll all be your fault. And you’ll be fired!

But what exactly can you do when one of your bosses is downing a bottle of wine in your kitchen at 2AM?

You clear your throat, feeling like an intruder in your own home. Harry slowly turns on his heel, eyes wide. He slowly lowers the bottle, wiping his mouth. He smiles awkwardly, a deer caught in the headlights. “y/nnnnn!” He drawls in a sing-song tone. Harry swills the bottle around, nodding towards the two glasses. It’s over half empty. 

You sigh again, drawling back in the same tone, “Harry.” His grin widens, and he moves to pour the drinks. “No! No.” He pouts at you, but puts the wine down. He staggers over to you.

“y/n! y/n! I need to tell you something.” He grins like he’s about to share a big secret, leaning in conspiratorily. You shake your head, putting a hand on his chest to stop him.

“You can tell me in the morning. If you remember. If it’s that important.” “OOOOOO! SHE’SLETTINGMESTAYYYY THE NIGHTTT!” His screech is so slurred at this point, that you genuinely consider googling ‘stroke symptoms’. You nod semi-patronisingly. He’s left nearly all of your cabinets open and has also been rooting through your drawers, but you cannot bring yourself to care at this present moment in time. “y/n, you are a-” he hiccups, “naughty, naughty girl- not a girl. No, because that sounds noncy. You are a naughty woman-” You’ve begun to just nod along as he speaks, moving him out of the kitchen, through the living room and towards the stairs. You exhale, thinking about how you can manoeuvre him upstairs, but luckily, you need not think too hard. 

Harry’s head perks up, and he practically scampers upstairs. You balk, dropping his shoes by the front door and following. Who knows what kind of havoc he could wreak up there?! “Harry- HARRY!” You yelp, but he doesn’t seem to hear you. Instead, you hear the sound of him opening doors. You’re not specifically worried about whichever rooms he goes into, it’s more so what he does to them. On the first floor, there’s your bedroom (which has a tiny ensuite with a tiny shower), the little box room that doubles as your office, and the guest room- but he is still Harry- drunk Harry. 

You realise any sound of movement has stopped and as you reach the top of the stairs, not looking where you’re going, you slam into a solid body, and Harry is bringing you into a hug. “Wha-”

“Ohhh, y/n. Ohhh, y/n.” He repeats like he’s soothing a child, rocking back and forth. It’s so warm in his arms, but you don’t find yourself pulling away. In the morning, you’ll blame it on the suddenness and him being drunk, but right now, it’s nice to leave it blameless. “I shouldn’t have- shouldn’thavecalledyou naughty. You aren’t naughty, you’re lovely. Lovely, lovely y/n. Lovely y/n.” You can feel him bury his face in your hair and breathe in deeply. It’s nice in his arms, and you don’t want to talk about the tears brimming on your waterline. Just two more seconds, you think. Just two more.

You are true to your thoughts, and begin to pull away, leading to Harry only pulling you closer and squeezing. “You- you cannot leave. You’ve been soooooooooo sad, y/n. Sosososososo sad.YOU DIDN’T EVEN COME OUT TONIGHTTT!”

“Harry-” You pull yourself away from his chest, looking into his eyes. “You don’t even talk to me when I go out, so does it matter?”

He sputters indignantly. “Does it- does it fucking matter? Y/N! Whodoyo- are you trying to offend me?! Shut the fuck up. I wanted to- want to talk to you more, but stupidfuckingPatrickandhisTINYdick-” You cringe at the mention of your ex, but have to hold back a laugh at Harry’s insult. You hadn’t allowed yourself to laugh at jokes about it (the breakup, not his dick), really. It just never felt right. But Patrick had never cared for your feelings so, you supposed it didn’t matter anymore. “HE TOLD ME TO LEAVE YOU ALONE!” Harry screams right in your ear, looking shocked when you flinch away, but you’re also shocked by this information. 

You decide to lead Harry to the spare room, grabbing onto his arms- which are, as you are now realising despite having seen them practically everyday for the past 3 years, fucking strong- in order for him to follow you. “What do you mean?” You say, both prying for information and to make sure he doesn’t realise that you’re moving him. Harry holds your elbows, more than happy to look into your eyes.

“He- fucking. That dick! Everyone was-” He nearly falls over and you nearly go with him, laughing nervously as you save him. “OHHHH, Y/N! My saviour. My lovely y/n. Do you know- and this is real. You have to trust me. Everyone, including fucking Tobi who loves practically everyyyybody, were saying that you could do sooooo much better than him. He is- well was, because you left him, thank the Lord-”

It came out of your mouth before you could stop it, “He left me, actually. For his brother’s ex-wife. So-” Harry stops. He drops his arms to his side, mouth agape. You awkwardly glance at him. 

He’s silent for what feels like hours but is actually more like 20 seconds before he explodes. “WHA- Y/N?? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?”

“I mean. Yeah?”

“HE LEFT YOU? Patrick? FUCKING PATRICK?” You nod at him slowly. “Y/N? WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?” You blink at him.

“Well, we aren’t exactly close- like, you know. And like, we didn’t talk much and I figured if you wanted to know what happened then you would’ve asked me, I guess?” You try and grab him again to take him to the bedroom. He lets you touch him, but is unwilling to move, like he’s in a state of shock. Harry looks like he wants to grab you by the shoulders and yell in your face, but is restraining himself. 

“y/n, I gen- genuinely might vomit.”

“Please don’t.”

Harry doesn’t seem like he heard you, and you can tell he’s gearing up for his next rant. “y/n- that fucking Patrick- PATDICK! PADICK!” You nod out of compliance, a pacifying smile spreading across your face. “You- Do you remember when we all went out and I got mean? He was all like ‘Ehhh, you’re not funny, Harold. I think you want to shag my bird’ and I said ‘Well obviously, it’s y/n’ and he tried to punch me! He tried to punch me and yet I was the one who had to apologise! It’s a fucking- a fucking scandal. And then- AND THEN, y/n-” He grabs your shoulders to make sure you’re still listening, but he doesn’t do it hard enough to hurt you. “He sent me a- a message on fucking Snapchat- WE ARE 26 YEARS OLD- and was acting all big man tough but he will never be Ethan Behzinga. And then I wasn’t allowed to talk to you-” He borderline whines. “And I like talking to you so I was fucking pissed. Because you’re myyyy lovely y/n.” Harry smiles toothily. “I can talk to you again. You’re like the only- only only person I want to talk to. AND HE WAS SHAGGING ANOTHER BIRD ANYWAY! SO WE COULD’VE BEEN DOING IT THIS WHOOOOLE TIME GUILT-FREE!”

You ignore that last comment as your heart stops for a moment. You can feel yourself searching for something in his face- you don’t know what, but all you see written across his features is… fondness. Like he genuinely cares about you. Like he wants something with you. You don’t know what to do with it, so you do what you do best.

“Okay. Thank you, Harry. Let’s get you to bed.” You immediately revert to short sentences, trying to digest what you’ve been told. Harry pouts at this, but you look away from him. “It should be okay, I don’t have any pyjamas for you-”

“I sleep dick out, balls akimbo.” He says proudly, and you feel yourself grow warm, patting him on the back in a ‘that’s nice, honey’ gesture.

“Well, that works out perfectly.” You say without thinking, and you see Harry’s grin grow wide across his face. “Don’t say anything. It came out wrong.”

“I can come in- I can come in, RIGHT!” He laughs like he’s the funniest person ever, and in spite of yourself you grin. “There’s that pretty smile. I missed it.” He grabs your cheeks in his fingers, “OOOOO, someone’s warmmmm. Take your clothes off, you’ll get cooler.”

“Okay. That’s enough, Harry.” You pull your face back, leading him to the spare room. You push him down onto the bed, and you can tell from his face that he’s cooking up something foul to say. You put a finger over his mouth and he smiles cheekily behind it. “You remember how a bed works, right? And the bathroom is downstairs so please don’t like- throw up or anything.” He nods, just staring at you. “Okay. I’m-” His stare is so intense you lose track of what you’re saying. “I’m going to go to bed. Sleep well, Harry. Sweet dreams.” He smiles dumbly and raises his hand in a lazy wave. You don’t look back as you leave the room.

You stand outside the door for a few seconds, trying to digest whatever the fuck that was. You just hope he works up early in the morning, and slips out without saying goodbye so you never have to talk about this ever again.

You haven’t even realised that the door behind you had opened, until you feel Harry grab your shoulder and turn you around. You only manage to squeak out a small “Wha-” before his mouth is on yours.

It’s open-mouthed and messy and hot, one of his hands cradling the back of your head, the other holding your waist. It takes you a minute to kiss back, but when you do you reciprocate it ferociously. You can taste the alcohol on his lips but you don’t care. His lips are chapped but you don’t care. It feels wrong and right and like everything you’ve ever wanted.

Harry brings you back into the room, still kissing you as he moves, pinning you in against the wall. He grunts softly against your mouth, his hands roving up and down your body. One of your arms settles around his shoulders, the other grabbing his bicep, both of them working together to try and bring him closer to you. You can feel the blood pulse in your ears and fingertips, and every inch of your body feels friable against him. A few minutes pass of your bodies intermingling before you pull away. Harry tries to chase your mouth, but when you turn your head away, he begins to kiss and nibble down your neck. 

It makes you laugh, “Harry.” He pays you no mind. “Harry!” 

He hums against your skin. 

“Harry, c’mon.” You pull him off of you. He pouts again, pulling you off of the wall and into his arms. “You have to sleep. Please. And you are so drunk. I’m sorry.” It’s just dawning on you what happened. “Oh my God, you are so drunk. Holy fuck, Harry, I’m so sorry.”

He raises a withering eyebrow at you. “Erm, y/n. I think you’ll find that I was the one who kissed you. And I’ve been wanting to do it for a while, thank you very much. I am a man who takes an opportunity when he sees one, and this felt like a good one! Don’t you agree?”

The fact that you don’t reply is answer enough for Harry, who begins to kiss all over your face. You push him onto the bed for a final time, and he looks up at you excitedly. “No- No. I-” You sigh. How the fuck do you reply to that? “I enjoyed it, yes-” 

“FUCK YEAH!” He screeches. “That’s all we needed. You enjoyed it, hey presto, we’re in love.”

You blanche at his words, but he doesn’t notice. “Harry.”

He looks up at you, his big blue eyes expectant. “Lovely y/n.”

“It was enjoyable. It was a good opportunity. And I would like to do it again.”

Harry’s mouth drops open from joy as he begins to silently roll around on the bed in excitement. You have to stifle a laugh.

“But, it is really something we should talk about.”

“I WAS TRYINGGG! I WAS SOOO ROMANTIC! I borrowed your wine-”

“You stole my wine.”

“AND I SET UP THE GLASSES-”

“They weren’t wine glasses.”

“And you’re lucky I couldn’t find any candles because trust me, your knickers would’ve been on the- on the fucking floor from the sheer romantsy of it.” Your mouth drops open hearing him talk about your knickers. How the fuck do you reply to THAT?! He senses it. “Too far?”

“I mean, slightly. Yeah. Look, Harry, if you go to bed now, I promise, we can talk about this in the morning. If you remember.”

“Trust me, y/n. I don’t think I could ever forget.” He smiles dumbly at you. And before you leave the room, saying your goodnights again, you gently kiss him on the forehead. His entire face flushes red.

You leave the room, closing the door much like earlier, only this time, you have a smile on your face, and only one word rings in your mind.

Wonsik was a work addict, he had no problem denying that because he very much knew that he was a work addict. Where a lot of other people would take time between albums to relax and to enjoy themselves, Wonsik never really stopped working and he couldn’t really see himself ever stop working. He was someone with an endless stream of ideas and couldn’t just keep those to himself, he needed to execute them, to work on them and to make them something fully. Whether it was writing lyrics for upcoming albums or producing songs for other groups, Wonsik just never stopped working in all honesty and in a way it was hard for him to think about taking a break, he knew that it probably wasn’t the best thing, especially not as he said it out loud, but it was just part of him, to always be buzzing with ideas for songs and keeping them all to himself or keeping them inside of him for a long time seemed a little impossible for him to do.

Everyone in the building was aware of the work addict that Wonsik was, everyone from their staff knew it but generally everyone that was part of the company in whatever way knew it. It was always brought up, the amounts of songs he had produced, the amount of work he did and it was definitely something that Wonsik was very proud of. He poured his heart and soul into those songs and for all the work he did he was getting recognition, that was enough.

Today was not a different day from any other day, Wonsik had gotten to his studio a little late as he had overslept but it wasn’t too much of a worry since all of their songs had already been finished, now it was just him playing around with ideas he had, nothing that needed to be handed in or had any kind of due date, it was just him, experimenting with a different sound he could start using or different methods to get to work and to approach songs.

Time always passed impossibly fast for Wonsik, the day went by too fast and had too little hours for him to do all the work which he had wanted to do but so long as he reminded himself that there was always a tomorrow, he was able to deal with the annoyance of not quite finishing things up or making them the way he wanted to. He knew he had more time so he didn’t care as much. The moment Wonsik took a break was a very specific moment, the moment his eyes wanted to just disappear from the world was that exact moment but there was something which definitely accompanied it, the smell. Wonsik didn’t smell, he had showered this morning, there was nothing in his studio that could smell because he usually didn’t snack much and what he did eat was usually processed, in bags and nothing that had a strong scent so it was something else, and he needed to know what it was.

When he stood up he felt his legs ache, only when he stopped working did he ever really feel how much he ad pushed himself and how badly his body took to it sometimes. It was like adrenaline, he only realized what he missed once it was gone and it usually hit him pretty hard, harder than he thought it would.

Wonsik opened his door, it didn’t, It didn’t open fully as he noticed immediately that it was blocked by something. He glanced outside, frowning, that’s when he saw the box that was stopping him from opening his door. The box was in a plastic bag and he picked it up, the door shut before his eyes again and Wonsik headed straight back to his desk. There was a small note attached to the bag, the handwriting was quick and a bit illegible but Wonsik had definitely seen worse and written worse himself before so it wasn’t the absolute worst.

I think this is your favourite, I hope so.

Don’t forget to take breaks

There was still a frown on Wonsik’s face as he opened up the bag and boxes, it was his favourite food. Without thinking much he started eating, he hadn’t realized that he had really been hungry but now his body made it very clear that it had wanted food in the past hours and he wasn’t going to deny it any longer. Only when he had taken a few bites did Wonsik start to think why someone had just given him his favourite food, It was still warm even.

It wasn’t from someone from his band, he assumed. They wouldn’t have left it at the door, they’d have just barged on inside and announce themselves, even Taekwoon wouldn’t just leave it at the door wordlessly when he knew that Wonsik was sitting inside and it probably wasn’t the most important minute of his life where he really couldn’t interrupt.

It was probably someone he didn’t know or they’d leave their name at least, most would really just come on inside. There was still the possibility that this was all a misunderstanding, whoever put this there could’ve had the wrong door and all of this ended up being a very happy accident for Wonsik. He wasn’t sure what to make of it but after eating and stretching his legs out a little

There wasn’t much he could do and he had gotten quite absorbed into his work that he wasn’t even too interested in doing anything, for now he considered it a one time thing, a one time thing that had been amazing for Wonsik. The workday passed quickly and by the end half of the company was already deserted as Wonsik headed back to their dorm, even though he had gotten quite a lot done and had been focused on his work the entire day, the question about who had never left his mind completely.

-8-

It was two days later when Wonsik ran into another box. He needed to go to the bathroom but found his way unexpectedly blocked as he pushed a little harder before his door opened. It was another box, this one was smaller and wasn’t in a bag but there was still a little note attached to it. The handwriting seemed less sloppy now, like the last time had been in a hurry and needed to be done as fast as possible.

Wonsik set the box down on his desk.

This is a lot less healthy but it’s good for energy

Take care, don’t forget to stretch your legs sometimes

As he opened the box he discovered the definition of less healthy. It was nothing on the too extreme side but it wasn’t that great when it came to being healthy, nonetheless he knew all of the snacks and he knew that he really liked how they tasted so it was good enough for him.

After peeing he went back to work, occasionally snacking on the food he had been given. At one point Wonsik went to take a break and decided to think about who this could be, he wasn’t really sure. Even though it was only the second time he assumed that it wasn’t much of a coincidence anymore. It had to be someone who he didn’t know, a secret admirer. Yet, the whole idea of a secret admirer was that the person was a secret, nonetheless Wonsik was very curious and definitely wanted to discover who was behind this, who was sending him food. Even if he didn’t like the person as in love said person, he definitely wanted to thank them for the food because whoever send it, he or she knew very well what Wonsik liked and he loved it.

He decided to keep the note, he still had the last one too somewhere in a drawer, once he found it he put the small stack of two on the corner of his desk, this way it was something that he could look at quite a few times and it might end up being a proper reminder for him to take breaks, he wasn’t sure if it would work but he also knew that whenever someone else told him to take a break, Wonsik was usually far more inclined to do so, there was only one way to find out if notes would work for him.

-8-

A full week had passed and Wonsik had moved the notes from the corner of his desk back to a separate drawer just for them as the stack kept falling over and it was becoming a bit strange to have on his desk. Everyday he got the little notes along with food, and every day it changed. Sometimes it was even multiple times a day though that didn’t happen too often and it would usually be two snacks. Other times it were entire meals that were delivered to the door of his studio and after a few days he had decided to start asking around. No one had the slightest idea, for Wonsik it was quite easy to rule out a lot of people whom he personally knew but he hadn’t really assumed it would be someone he knew very personally, to him it just didn’t seem like something they would do, most people he knew would just be honest with him.

Wonsik’s first clue came when 9 days had passed. He had worked out around when the food would usually be delivered and he made note to open his door then. It had gone somewhat successful, he hadn’t been able to catch the person doing the deed but he did see the back of whoever it was and he felt relatively safe assuming it was a guy. He had an undercut, was probably a little shorter than Wonsik but that might’ve also been the distance. He was wearing a slightly oversized shirt, jeans and sneakers. It wasn’t anything too extraordinary in any way but Wonsik felt a sense of pride that he had been able to at least see this secret admirer and have something of a clue as to who they could be, it was still quite a bit question but just a little less.

So Wonsik continued to think, the clue was a small one but it was something nonetheless. He felt safe to assume it had to be someone in the company, part of the company or just related to it in a way that they were there on a daily basis. It wouldn’t be some random visitor, that was impossible so it had to be someone who worked at the company, otherwise the access to his studio made absolutely no sense and how regular they had become didn’t make much sense either. He asked around a bit but still it seemed as though no one had a single idea as to who it could be which made Wonsik both amused and annoyed, whoever it was must have a very solid act, he must’ve either told no one or just kept it a secret that no one would betray. It was amusing, the search as it was something very different but at the same time it was annoying, all Wonsik wanted to do was show appreciation to whoever kept bringing him food and adorable notes but the person seemed very set on hiding themselves.

Finding someone with an undercut wasn’t necessarily an impossible task considering the situation, say he had half of the company to look at it really wasn’t anything impossible for him to do but at the same time it felt like a very strange thing to do, it was a weird thing to do and there was a better way to approach it, Wonsik knew that and he was going to try that before just constantly looking at people their haircuts.

-8-

It took a month, a total month before Wonsik advanced in any kind of way but it was also the last key he needed before he was able to confront the person about it. The entire month he still got gifts through food, snacks and drinks. All of it must’ve been worth quite a lot as Wonsik started to mentally add up a few things when it came to the all the costs of the food and it definitely started to add up which made Wonsik feel even more guilty and feel even more like he had to at least thank the person for all the food.

The notes had become something entirely on their own, he had decided to keep them in a box instead of sprawled across a drawer and he opened the box at least once a day, validating the break that he was taking because his brain sometimes didn’t want to accept it as something that was necessary for him, when someone else told it, it just seemed more important to him and he was far more likely to follow it, no matter how strange it sounded. They had become a daily part of Wonsik’s life and something that he really enjoyed if he was honest, the reminders were very nice regardless of the situation.

Wonsik had gone on a small break, he was just going to take a small walk outside and enjoy some sunlight along with stretching his legs, there was nothing bad about it and Wonsik did genuinely need more Vitamin D if he was being honest. He had passed a hallway, just on his way to head out and that was when he heard something.

“I can’t believe you’re still doing this.” Wonsik had stopped, just out of sheer curiosity, there was no hurry to go on outside.

“It’s just nice, I guess.”

“I also can’t believe you’re still not broke Y/N.” There was a laugh, it was a deep genuine laugh and Wonsik felt something tingle.

“Food is literally all I spend my money on, I know how to get the best deals.”

Y/N. A name was all he needed, literally. A single name and a bit of an ask around and Wonsik was set. He left the company feeling quite excited, he went and took a walk though it didn’t last as long as he had initially thought, he felt quite anxious to go and get back to the company.

When he got back Wonsik asked the first person he saw, which was a visitor who gave him a dazzled look and so he moved on to the next person with a bit more thought before asking them. Wonsik recognized them as part of staff, someone who worked with audio if he remembered correctly and that person did know them. Y/N was a trainee and producer. It surprised Wonsik but at the same time he knew most of the staff quite well so it had to be someone new in one way or another. Through some gossip and asking around out of curiosity Wonsik discovered that Y/N had originally auditioned as a producer but the company had wanted to push him more in the idol direction as it fit him quite well. In a way Wonsik agreed, he had seen photos and objectively and subjectively speaking, Y/N was handsome and seemed to have a personality that would work well with the hectic schedule of idols.

Now that he knew who it was, it still took Wonsik some time to track Y/N down. Originally he had discovered who exactly he was before the clock had turned twelve yet by now it was closer to eight. He found Y/N in one of the practice rooms, there was an echo of music, a song which Wonsik didn’t recognize and he heard sneakers squeak underneath the wooden floors.

At first Y/N didn’t notice Wonsik as he watched for a few seconds. The song was extremely catchy even if it was only an instrumental and Wonsik was a little surprised as Y/N danced. It was in a way that held the same fluidity as modern dance yet also felt more rigid because of the popping, it was that mix that was very interesting to see.

“Wonsik-sunbaenim, I uh I didn’t see you there.” Y/N said, clearly surprised and in a way, a little awkward.

“You looked really good,” Wonsik said, it was the first thing that came into his head and so he just said it. In a way Wonsik really hadn’t expected to meet him this soon which made it a bit hard, he didn’t really know what to say because he hadn’t planned it. “Just hyung is fine.”

“Thanks hyung,” Y/N said, smiling. “Dancing’s still pretty new to me but I’m trying my hardest.”

“You’re not to bad, you’re pretty good from what I’ve just seen.”

“Anyway, what are you doing here? I don’t want to be rude but it’s pretty late.”

Wonsik smiled, he noticed that Y/N was getting a bit more nervous though he was extremely goof at keeping his cool if Wonsik was honest, he didn’t really slip up and all of it were in small gestures like quickly looking away, things he was only able to catch out of pure coincidence.

“You’re the one who left me food and notes, right?” Y/N blushed just slightly.

“I might have been, yeah.”

“I really wanted to thank you, I mean, I’ve actually been taking more breaks, it genuinely helped not to mention the food was amazing.”

Y/N blushed even more and even harder, Wonsik enjoyed every second of it if he was being honest.

“Well, that’s good. That was the whole purpose after all.”

“Hmm, right so thank you for that but also, I know a great ramen restaurant just a block away and I think there’s enough time left for that today, right?” Wonsik said, there was a small grin on his face though he did feel a little anxious if he was being honest. Y/N seemed very surprised but with no hesitation immediately said. “Of course.”

You try and stay positive- maybe Harry’s forgotten what happened last night. Maybe (if you’re being very, very optimistic), he’s already gone. That would be wonderful. A sick voice inside of you whispers ‘maybe he was serious last night’, and you shake your head to rid yourself of it. It would be cruel of you to get your own hopes up. 

You lay on your front, sighing and burying your head back in your pillow. Yes, you enjoyed kissing Harry. Yes, you would definitely date him. Yes, his confession that if it weren’t for your ex, you two would’ve talked more- maybe even would’ve been friends. But it would complicate everything. You smiled after everything. You promised him a talk, but now, in the morning light…

It just doesn’t feel right.

Harry was so drunk. And yes, whilst you’d only been around Harry when drunk a few times, he was always like this. He was emotional, with his volume and honesty being basically four times their usual level. It wouldn’t surprise you if he’d done practically the same thing with Josh.

You know you have feelings for Harry. You’d gone to bed with a smile on your face and butterflies in your stomach, you’d even acknowledged it to him that you did in fact enjoy it, and that you wanted to talk about it. It’s just… everything will change. You’d already gone through several major life changes in the past year, and weren’t sure if another one was what you needed. Last night you were so sleep deprived and borderline delirious, that now, in the proper morning, it really felt unreal.

You push yourself up and out of bed, deciding it’s better to prepare yourself to face the day instead of ruminating on it. Whatever happens is fine. And, if all else fails, you can just get a new job. 

You quickly brush your teeth, and wash your face, before throwing on a pair of comfortable leggings. You’ve thrown a random bra on, and are looking for a shirt when you hear the BEEP of the smoke alarm in your kitchen. 

You run downstairs, shirt now forgotten about. You nearly trip over Harry’s shoes that you had abandoned by the stairs (technically earlier that morning), and go flying through the living room into the kitchen. You get in there and see- 

Harry?

He’s jumping up and down, fanning at the smoke alarm with one of the dish clothes kept by the sink, and doesn’t seem to realise that you’ve entered. He’s wearing the same clothes as he was last night, but his shirt is inside out… and you think his trousers might be back to front.

You lean against the archway, a fond smile subconsciously making its way across your face. 

Harry swears very loudly, but it’s hard to hear him over how loud the beeping is. He spins around, trying to seemingly fan the smoke (that you now realise is coming out of the oven) into a tornado of smoke. You aren’t sure what his end goal is- he hasn’t even opened the glass door to the small rear garden or the window above the sink. Harry spins around again, and his eyes land on you. 

He freezes, arms extended above his head. Harry plasters a fake smile on his face. You look around the room. On the small kitchen table, he’s laid out two plates, with two glasses and- champagne and orange juice. Was he trying to make mimosas? Harry must see the look of confusion upon your face, the smile having fallen as you took in the scene more. “I was- erm. As a thank you.” He gestures around the kitchen.

“As a thank you… you’re burning down my kitchen?” You ask incredulously. You both feel like you are walking on egg shells. Whilst your conversations before were never easy and (especially after Patrick’s interference) rare, there was an easy banter the two of you could always slip into- and now, it felt quite far away.

“Not on purpose! Look-” He quickly goes to open the oven further, pulling out the cremated food in a hurry. It looks like- you can’t even tell what it looks like. “I was warming up some croissants in the oven. And I put the temperature too high. AndIalsofellasleeponyoursofaandforgot.” 

Your jaw drops. You’re trying to formulate a response that doesn’t involve you insulting him, wordlessly opening the door to the outside and window, as the smoke alarm stops beeping. Harry guiltily wrings the dish cloth in his hands. It’s nearly 2 minutes of silence before you speak.

“Well- I mean. At least you woke up in time.” Harry breathes out a sigh of relief when you turn to look at him. You’re not exactly smiling, but it’s better than nothing! 

Harry nods eagerly. “Yeah. Yeah! Wouldn’t’ve liked to burn down your house and shit when we still need to talk about last night.” You visibly tense up when he says that, and Harry wants to bash his head against the wall. Of course you don’t want to talk about it. You were placating him when he was drunk, and that was all it was. “You know- Nevermind. I am sorry y/n. I have completely destroyed your kitchen-”

“I mean, it’s not completely destroyed.” You reply. You walk around him to the kitchen table, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice. It was far too early for champagne in your mind. “Like, I can still use it and stuff.” You shiver at the slight breeze from the outside and that’s when you remember that you don’t have a shirt on - thank God for your bra. You wrap one arm around yourself, using the other to help you finish your glass in basically one gulp. You turn back around to face Harry, who is gawking at you. 

He whacks a hand over his eyes, covering them fully, “WHY DON’T YOU HAVE A TOP ON-”

You squint at him, interrupting. “Because I thought my house was burning down?” Harry’s face is practically bright red beneath his hand. You sigh, grabbing one of the thin zip-up hoodies from the back of the chair at the table. “I’m all covered up, Harry. Don’t worry.”

He peeks out from behind his fingers (if you’re being honest, you thought you saw a glimmer of disappointment flash across his face), before trying and failing to shove his hands in his pockets. It’s then he realises that his joggers are the wrong way around, and Harry honestly feels like screaming. His face grows warm again, and he immediately tries to divert attention.

“So. y/n. Now that we are both-” Harry subtly tries to throw away the burnt food. You watch him with raised eyebrows. “Shall we- Should we both take a pew?” Harry is talking like he’s never talked to anybody before, and he wants to bash his head against the wall again. You look like you want to bolt, and a wave of sadness or something close to it washes over Harry. “y/n. I really do want to talk about this.”

“I know. I know!” You sigh, messing with your hair. “I want to talk about it. I just-”

He gently guides you to a chair at the table, pushing you down into it. Harry takes the champagne off the table, putting it back where he found it. If there’s one thing he wants to do without the temptation of drinking, it’s this. He stands with his back to you for a moment, taking a deep breath. 

“Your shirt’s inside out.” You say monotone whilst he isn’t looking at you. Harry turns, giving you a nasty stink-eye. For a second, it feels like nothing at all happened last night. This was what the two of you did in the office when you spoke. Was it the nicest? No. Was it easier for the pair of you to communicate like that instead of adults? Yes. But of course, this is a time when you two need to actually communicate.

“Says the woman who doesn’t even have one on.” Harry retorts. He considers getting the champagne back out, but decides against it, instead pulling the chair out across from you, scraping it against the floor.

You shrug as you mutter, “I didn’t see you complaining.” Harry’s jaw drops, and he forgets the entire speech he had planned. You aren’t wrong. He certainly wasn’t complaining. In fact, he’d like to see the view more often (without the bra, next time, even!).

“You do not get to say stuff like that when we’re talking- talking about serious things, y/n! We’re talking about MY FEELINGS- OUR feelings!” Harry does his Harry thing, overdramatising what he’s saying so that he can play it off as a joke in case it goes down poorly. His heart skips a beat when your eyes meet.

Harry’s always found it difficult to read you. If he was going to admit it, when you first began to work with the Sidemen… Harry did not like you. You were too good at your job. Too good at communicating with other brands and venues. Too good at being friendly with the other employees but not with him. Too perfect. He often struggled to concentrate in meetings or when they were filming if you were there, and it was not only noticed by the fans, but also by other people who knew the Sidemen personally.

When he was drunk, Harry found it easier to function around you, and thus, when you and Patrick attended the Sidemen party (Harry had nearly cried when he found out you were engaged. Vikk and Josh had to talk him into showing up), Patrick had noticed Harry’s dedicated stare aimed in your direction, the rolling of his eyes whenever Patrick spoke or held your hand or even stood near you. 

Patrick had successfully scared Harry off after that night, and it had taken weeks for Harry to realise the reason he was so pissed at not being able to talk to you (even though you hadn’t done so much anyway) was because he was in love with you.

Gross. 

When Harry had confided in his friends, they all treated him like he was stupid. Of course he had a crush on the engaged producer. They’d seen him act in similar ways around girls he liked in the past- being too awkward to function until he had a drink in him, when suddenly he thought he was God’s gift to women and had more confidence in his right pinky than most people do in general. Only it was different with you, because you were engaged. 

But then the engagement ended. And suddenly, you were back on the market… and Harry still couldn’t talk to you properly. He was a bit snippy when he did, but you would always return the energy, so he didn’t think you liked him much in any direction, especially not romantically- so when you kissed him back last night-

Harry had never wanted to freeze a moment and keep it forever as he had then. As he looks at you in the morning light, hair moving slightly from the breeze coming through the open door and window, the only thing Harry wants to do is kiss you again.

You clear your throat, eyeing Harry slightly awkwardly. “So. Our talk.”

“Yes! Yes. Yes. Our talk.” Harry nods. “I- okay.”

“Okay?”

“y/n- I- You’re so fucking beautiful and you make me so nervous.” Your heart skips a beat and does a swan dive to your stomach as it begins. “I genuinely like. I can’t talk around you. I can barely breathe around you. It’s a miracle I’m able to fucking talk right now, because usually I need some fucking- fucking liquid courage to do it. I’ve known you for like- three years? Four years? And you make me so uncomfortable. I’ve never needed anyone as bad as I need you. I made a dick of myself last night, I know I did. But when you kissed me- Fuck. I genuinely really really like you. And I want to know every little thing about you. I want to know if you- if you talk in your sleep. I want to know if you prefer your eggs scrambled or fucking- fucking poached! I want to know your favourite flowers, and I want to see your smile every day.” You sit there silently as he rambles. “y/n, I’m telling the truth when I say this. I don’t think there’s anyone else more deserving of love than you, and I want to be the person who can give it to you.”

You’re gobsmacked, looking at Harry as though you’ve just watched him shed his skin like a snake. Harry takes your silence as a rejection, and begins to get up. “I’m so sorry. I’ve fucked it all up, I know I have. If- I’ll leave, y/n. I’m so sorry, we never have to talk again-” He’s basically walked out of your kitchen when you turn him around by the shoulder, grabbing the collar of his inside-out shirt, and meeting his mouth with your own.

It takes him by surprise, and he makes a sound of surprise, which quickly melts into a sound of pleasure. You remove your hands from his collar, instead wrapping them around his neck to bring him as close as physically possible to you. His tongue sweeps inside your mouth, seemingly battling yours. Harry recovers from his shock quickly, walking you backwards into the kitchen, backing you up against the counter.

His hands rove over your body, grabbing everywhere he can as though he’s worried you’ll disappear if he lets go. His hands fumble with the zip of your hoodie, throwing it off to the side once he manages to manipulate your arms out of it. His hot hands caress the clasps of your bra, but you gently push him off of you before it gets to that point. His hands instead travel down to your waist, squeezing as he waits for you to say something.

“Is that like- good enough confirmation that I feel the same way?” He nods wildly as you speak. “I’m- I’m not good at speaking, Harry. Like about my feelings. I had my heart broken and the last thing I want is for that to happen again. I- I can’t go through that again. I want this, and I want you.” You feel like you’re climbing Mount Everest as you confess this. “I want something serious with you-”

“I'm serious about this, y/n. I want to be with you. I want to show you off. I want to take you out.” His eyes are large and earnest and scarily blue. His hand is slightly calloused as it moves to brush some of your hair away from your face, both of your chests heaving slightly.

You blink at him, the butterflies in your stomach clouding your mind, as you blurt out “Like- take me out as in kill me-”

“NO?!” Harry looks flabbergasted. You put your hands up defensively. 

“It was just a question! And like, you did try to burn my house down so-” You feel your face grow warm and cut yourself off. “So… If I were to say yes- to being taken out by you… When would you want to do that?”

Harry’s face lights up, as he pulls away slightly, holding your forearms, spinning you around. “YIPPEE!” He yells, louder than necessary. You cringe, but smile in spite of yourself. “Okay. Okay.” He tries to calm himself down. “So this was- this was fucked. Me making breakfast. A stupid idea. Let’s- Are you free like right now?” Harry stutters over his words. 

You look at him, “If I wasn’t free, don’t you think I would’ve kicked you out by now?”

Harry chooses to ignore your dry question, instead choosing to plot mentally. “Sooo… if I suggested like. Like. A brunch?”

“It’s still breakfast. It’s only like 9:15.” Your stomach growls as if to punctuate your point.

Harry waves you off. You can’t stop this man when he’s on a mission. “Or… we can make it brunch?” He raises his eyebrows in a way that you think is meant to be flirtatious. 

“Or…” You trail your hand down his chest, he shivers with excitement. “We can go get breakfast. We can come back here… And I can teach you how to properly warm croissants in the oven.”

Harry laughs, baring his teeth into a smile as he grabs your ass. “Or… after breakfast, you can be my brunch.” You wrap your arms around his neck once again, kissing him deeply. You teasingly bite at his lip as you pull away, Harry chasing your mouth with his. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do, y/n.” He murmurs against your lips. “We can- we can stay in,” He says between increasingly desperate kisses, “We can go out- As long as- As long as I’m with you… It doesn’t matter.” 

You laugh. “You’re also my boss and-”