The bass buzzed low through the studio monitors. Something heavy, almost haunting that Jisung had laid down hours ago. Changbin was buried in his notes, headphones tugged half-on. You were leaning back in the leather chair bedsides Chan, sipping from a bottle with chipped black nails and a silver ring on every other finger.

Chan noticed. He’d noticed the second you walked in. Not just the tattoo, all of you. The eyeliner smudged, your piercings, your 'My Chemical Romance' shirt hanging off your shoulder. And your voice, casual, raspy, chewing gum while teasing Jisung over a wrong harmony.

Changbin was focused, headphones in. Jisung was tweaking lines on his laptop. And Chan? He was completely useless.

He tried to focus on the track, on the chorus you’d laid down earlier. But you sat there mouthing the lyrics, rings tapping lightly against your knee, legs bouncing in rhythm.

You weren’t even trying. You never tried. That was the problem for him.

“You’re staring.”

You state. The words were flat, casual, no teasing, no flirtation. Your eyes were still fixed on the monitors as you spoke, like it didn’t affect you, like you didn’t feel it too.

Chan didn’t deny it or didn't say anything at all. He looked back down at the track screen, clicked something, repeated the chorus again, volume louder this time.

You didn’t exactly smile, but the corner of your mouth curved. Just slightly. Like you knew.

Because you did.