You were curled up on the battered couch in the studio with Chan at the mixing console and the laptop, your legs tucked under you, scrolling halfheartedly through your phone while Han did a few takes in the recording booth.

You weren’t even supposed to stay. You were meant to pop in, do some ad-libs Han and Chan wanted you to do, maybe listen to a rough cut or two and then leave. Yet here you were, thirty minutes later, still glued to the same spot, only because you wanted to listen to Han record his raps. Proudly guilty, the chance was presented and you took it.

He was focused, fully immersed with his headphones on and taking notes on the lyric paper in front of him. You tried not to stare, really, you did. But every sharp turn of his voice, every effortless rhyme, the way he slightly frowned in concentration between lines… you just had to admire.

Right as he finished a verse, he glanced up through the booth window, caught you watching, and winked. Playfully. Thoughtlessly. Like it meant nothing.

Your soul practically left your body with your breath hitching harshly.

You looked away so fast it gave you whiplash, suddenly very interested in a speck of lint on your hoodie sleeve. Your heart was doing something violent in your chest. It was fine. Totally fine. You were just going to sit here and pretend like that didn’t just happen or that it doesn't drive you absolutely batshit insane or that you didn't need to jump up, leave the room and do a few laps around the whole company building, freaking out.

Totally. Fine.