The studio is filled with the low loop of an unfinished track, Jihoon clicking the mouse rapidly while his eyes stay glued to the monitor. He’s been busy for hours—head full of melodies, deadlines stacked like the coffee cups on his desk.

You slip inside anyway, already missing him even though he’s right there. Your arms wrap around his shoulders from behind, cheek pressing to his hair.

“I’m working,” Woozi murmurs, but there’s no real bite to it—just that focused, distant tone he gets when he’s producing.

You cling a little closer.

He exhales, finally pausing the track. “You’re needy tonight, huh?”

His hand reaches up to pat yours once, affectionate despite himself.

“Give me ten minutes,” Jihoon says softly. “Then I’m all yours, don’t make me lose this idea.”