Chapter Text
Two weeks. Two long awful weeks had passed since that night.
Those weeks had been an arduous journey for Soonyoung, exhaustion seeping into every fiber of his being as he tried desperately to drown out the pain gnawing at his heart. It felt like too much to bear, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty and despair. It was an overwhelming cascade of emotions, a deluge he couldn’t stem or control. Eventually, he found himself teetering on the precipice of numbness, the sheer heaviness of it all tormenting every fiber of his being.
His mind spun out of control, turning into a disorganized jumble that prevented him from thinking clearly. It felt like a daunting burden to even consider talking to anyone else about their dire situation. The producer’s seemingly indifferent attitude toward it all, as if it were simply another typical afternoon for him and not the emotional anguish that engulfed Soonyoung’s heart, hurt him even more. It bit him, sharpening the pain in his heart and exacerbating his sense of isolation.
He wanted to talk. He would be lying if he said the idea of broaching the situation with Jihoon never once entered his mind. Even catching a glimpse of Jihoon would stir up these turbulent thoughts, yet there was an invisible barrier that prevented him from broaching the subject.
“Not yet,” the voice said.
And he listened.
Every. Damn. Time.
He hadn’t been eating. His physical condition deteriorated with each passing day, especially due to the relentless hours spent in the practice room, dancing tirelessly, and the hours spent with an empty stomach. His body felt increasingly frail, drained, and on the brink of exhaustion, yet he persisted in dancing every single minute, pushing himself to the limits of his endurance. He would only eat when he felt as though his body was going to shut down any minute. But even then, as he forced himself to eat these small portions, they barely managed to assuage the harrowing emptiness in his stomach, leaving him hungry again within mere hours.
That night, and for many nights thereafter, sleep did not visit him. The weight of guilt chewed incessantly at his conscience, rendering him restless and deprived of peace. He was acutely aware of the pain and confusion he had inflicted upon Jihoon, yet he found himself at a loss for a resolution, to alleviate it. The burden of remorse and despair hugged him like a continuous tide, leaving him to seek refuge in ceaseless work, pushing himself beyond the bounds of reason in a desperate attempt to numb the overwhelming emotions plaguing his soul.
It’s not like he didn’t want Jihoon to know about the memories they’d shared in previous lives—after all, he wouldn’t have dropped so many hints to the producer if he desired otherwise.
However, that memory was the last of the ones he wanted them to remember. That particular life, that period, was pure torment. Having seen Jihoon being forced into marrying the daughter of a colonel, and then being forced to serve the country alongside him, left Soonyoung feeling extremely unsettled and anxious throughout those months that eventually stretched into years.
If there was another woman, he felt like he was the other man .
Despite knowing Jihoon loved him and desired only him, Jihoon had no other choice but to be one with the colonel’s daughter. And then, they had a child—a son. When Soonyoung discovered this truth, it nearly drove him to the brink of utter depression, the thought of it almost pushing him to the edge of a cliff. The mere thought of someone else being the receiving end of Jihoon’s touch, their skin grazed by his warm and tender fingers, soft and thin pink lips meeting lips that weren’t his own—it drove him absolutely mad.
Disgust mingled with jealousy, creating a chaotic frenzy in his mind that clouded his thoughts and rendered him incapable of facing Jihoon. Even though he knew that Jihoon was likely trapped in a situation beyond his control initially, the visceral reaction within him was overpowering, leaving him unable to process the situation rationally.
They didn’t see each other for days. Jihoon’s father-in-law (the colonel) granted him the liberty to return home for a week to celebrate his daughter’s pregnancy. Despite Jihoon’s longing to see and be with Soonyoung during this time, their paths had not crossed. Soonyoung secluded himself in his little study area, enveloped by a whirlwind of grief, anger, jealousy, and whatever irrationality his mind offered. They did get to meet each other one night—entangled in the dimly lit confines of Soonyoung’s shabby room—on Jihoon’s first day back. Jihoon had been the bearer of good news to Soonyoung about his one-week stay in town and the latter had been delighted to hear such news.
They spent that night in each other’s warmth with Jihoon having Soonyoung’s locks enmeshed with his fingers as said boy had gone down on him. In the intimacy of the moment, suppressed emotions of longing, yearning, and love surged to the surface, their weight palpable as Soonyoung’s weight pressed Jihoon into the mattress.
“Oh, how I’ve missed you, amor.”
Jihoon’s hand gracelessly found purchase on Soonyoung’s biceps, seeking some semblance of grounding amidst the overwhelming flood of sensations coursing through every bit of his body.
However, pleasure didn’t blind him enough as he pulled Soonyoung down to kiss his lips before becoming the bearer of bad news to him—“Querida, she’s pregnant.”
That ignited a blaze of anger within Soonyoung, his movements growing harsher and unforgiving, shifting the delicate balance of pleasure and pain for Jihoon. Soonyoung remained deaf to the echoing sound of Jihoon’s cries in pain rather than ecstasy.
“Did you touch her like this?” Soonyoung’s voice rumbled with a dangerous edge as he traced his cold fingers over the milky expanse of Jihoon’s thigh, the question hanging heavy in the air like an accusation.
“No, would never,” Jihoon’s answer came out like the air was being punched out of his lungs, “I love you .”
That was in fact his worst life yet, Soonyoung thought. He had always prided himself on his strong moral compass, navigating the complexities of right and wrong with confidence. Infidelity was a line he swore never to cross, yet that life tested his convictions in ways he could never have imagined. He despised himself for being the other man, for contributing to Jihoon’s infidelity, violating the very principles he held dear. He despised himself for succumbing to desire, for allowing love to cloud his judgment and lead him astray. And yet, despite his self-loathing, Jihoon remained the only salve for the ache in his heart, the only one capable of soothing the longing that messed with his soul.
The weight of their shared history pressed down on Soonyoung like an oppressive burden, pulling him into a vortex of conflicting emotions; each memory a heavy chain binding him to a past he struggled to reconcile. He was torn between the want to cling to those precious moments and the fear of being consumed by them like a taunting grip.
Soonyoung had once believed that knowing these memories of the past was a gift, a treasure trove of shared experiences to cherish. However, he now saw it as a double-edged sword, a blessing tainted with the curse of endless reminiscence. The sheer magnitude of their history left him trembling with fear, anxiety, and uncertainty.
Something must’ve come over him—an impulsive urge that had driven him to approach Jihoon during their shoot for Going Seventeen and issue the directive to “act civil.” The audacity of his own actions unsettled him, leaving him feeling foolish and questioning his own motives. Why had he felt the need to say such a thing? The whole situation seemed nonsensical in hindsight.
Yet, despite his reservations, he couldn’t deny that he had seized the opportunity to draw closer to Jihoon during the shoot, capitalizing on the presence of the cameras to assert his presence. It was a calculated move, one that he had executed with precision, silently conveying a warning to Jihoon through his gaze to play along for the sake of the cameras. Looking back, Soonyoung couldn’t say he regretted his actions during those filming days, but he couldn’t help but wish there had been a better approach.
“Jihoonie—”
“Don’t.”
“Wait, Ji—”
“I need to go.”
“Jihoon, we need to—”
“Not now.”
“Please, talk to me.”
“I can’t, Soonyoung.”
Perhaps the voice in his head constantly whispering “not yet” was Jihoon all along. It had become an unending cycle, a loop of frustration and hesitation, ever since he had mustered enough courage to approach Jihoon after that fateful night when voices were raised and emotions ran rampant.
Yet, despite his efforts, Jihoon remained adamant in his silence, refusing to engage in any conversation—at least, not at the moment. The weight of stress bore down heavily on Soonyoung, tugging at the fraying edges of his resolve. He felt as though he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, wondering how much longer he could withstand the agonizing strain of this unresolved tension.
Soonyoung sighs deeply as he sinks to the floor with a weary thud, his sweaty back pressing against the expansive mirrors lining the spacious practice room. His heart pounds menacingly, each beat echoing through his chest as he struggles to steady his breath, drawing air in through his nose and releasing it slowly through his mouth. Beads of sweat cascade from his forehead, tracing a path down his flushed cheeks. The cool, biting breeze from the air conditioner sweeps over his overheated skin, creating a stark contrast that sends an involuntary shudder rippling through his body.
Since sunrise, the performance team has been tirelessly polishing their choreography, with Soonyoung maintaining a strict eye on every intricate detail. His meticulousness borders on severity, making the atmosphere tense and exacting. Throughout the grueling hours, Jun and Chan have made several attempts to approach him, hoping to coax him out of his rigid temperament and persuade him to ease up a bit, but Soonyoung’s stubbornness remains unshaken. Even Minghao, typically composed and patient, found his own frustration mounting, teetering on the brink of snapping at their performance leader. The air is thick with unspoken stress and the echoes of their synchronized movements, reflecting the high stakes they all feel but cannot quite verbalize.
“Take 5,” Soonyoung murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, as he casts a sidelong glance at his fellow members, his bangs falling gently over his eyes. With deliberate movements, he places his hands on the floor to steady himself, leaning back until his head makes contact with the cool surface of the mirror behind him.
With a sigh of relief, he surrenders himself to the blissful stillness, reveling in the feeling of his muscles finally unmoving after hours of exertion. The ambient hum of conversation drifts around him like a distant melody. Still, he manages to filter out the extraneous noise, allowing himself to sink deeper into a state of tranquility. Folding his arms across his chest, he welcomes the soothing calm that washes over him, granting him a brief respite from the rigors of practice.
Suddenly, he feels the light shuffle of feet going towards him before he hears them.
“Hyung?”
His eyelids flutter open, greeted instantly by the familiar face of Minghao. A fleeting smile graces his lips in response, a tacit acknowledgment signaling Minghao to proceed with whatever he intends to say.
The Chinese member eases into the adjacent seat, mindful of the residual discomfort that accompanies their proximity while their bodies still bear the sheen of perspiration from rigorous practice sessions. Soonyoung surrenders to the quietude once more, anticipating Minghao’s words.
“Don’t you think you’re being a tad too stringent today, Nyong?” Minghao starts with a question, his tone gentle and cautious, as though he’s treading on delicate ground, careful not to provoke any unintended reaction from Soonyoung. “We’re practicing for something we’re not even sure if it’ll survive in the Caratland setlist. We don’t have to go too hard on it for now.”
Soonyoung sighs. He has expected this. “It’ll make the cut,” because I saw it on Jihoon’s tab under the name “CARATLAND 2021 SETLIST” —he so badly wants to say but restricts himself.
Minghao’s exhale is laden with exhaustion as he leans his frame against the reflective surface of the mirror, the weight of his fatigue evident in the slump of his shoulders. “Your younger brothers are tired, and despite our efforts to refine and practice our dances, there’s no guarantee that every adjustment we’ve made will find its place in the final setlist.”
“Do you not trust me, Eisa?” Soonyoung’s question hovers in the atmosphere, a palpable tension threading through the air with each passing moment of silence, as if the very stillness itself crackles with unresolved doubt.
“This has nothing to do with trust,” Minghao asserts, his tone carrying a hint of defensiveness before he swiftly adjusts it. “I mean, surely we can afford more than a mere five minutes of rest, can’t we?”
Soonyoung’s chuckle rings out, albeit tinged with the unmistakable exhaustion that permeates his words. “You’re quite the serious one today, Eisa. You even spoke to me so formally,” he remarks with a sigh, before pressing on, “I’ll have a word with the choreographers and dancers before reaching a decision, but rest assured, okay?”
Minghao simply nods as Soonyoung rises from his seat, gracefully navigating through the throng of dancers and staff members.
“Do you think he’s okay?”
Junhui’s voice cuts through the air, prompting Minghao to startle slightly, his attention abruptly redirected. He glances at Soonyoung, then back at Junhui.
“He can’t even look at himself in the mirror.”
Soonyoung exhales loudly, the sound cutting through the ambient noise and causing Chan to flinch. Noticing Chan’s startled reaction, Soonyoung stifles a laugh, a hint of amusem*nt flickering in his eyes.
“What do you think of everything, Dino?”
Chan hums. “I think teaching the rest wouldn’t be so hard.”
“Oh, the vocal unit will definitely love the arrangements for their stage,” Jun chimes in.
Minghao nods. “They were the ones who suggested it.”
“Don’t get smart with me!”
Chan’s laughter mingles with Minghao’s, filling the room with lighthearted energy. However, Soonyoung barely registers the sound, his focus drifting away as he fixates on the intricate wooden patterns of the floor beneath him. His thoughts wander to distant places, rendering him oblivious to the details of his members’ animated bickering, their voices fading into a background hum that barely penetrates his ears.
Their practice session concludes for the day because Chan has another schedule to attend to and the Chinese members have successfully charmed him into giving everyone the rest of the day off. Despite it being a bit past lunchtime, he feels indifferent about going out to grab something to eat. Instead, he chooses to remain in the practice room, patiently waiting as each of his members gathers their belongings and departs. As they leave, one by one, he makes it a point to say goodbye to each of them.
Once he’s left alone, Soonyoung lies down on the floor, his body fully surrendering to exhaustion. He releases another deep sigh, the weight of the day pressing heavily on him. His gaze drifts to the cluttered corners of the room, searching for some semblance of distraction. Perhaps a drink to numb the edges of his mind or a brisk walk to shake off the lingering fatigue—anything to prevent the insidious tendrils of overthinking from taking hold and consuming him whole.
With a heavy heart, he rises from the floor and gazes at his reflection in the mirror. As he clenches his fists, he walks forward to scrutinize his own reflection more closely.
The sight that meets his eyes is disheartening. He looks worn-out and haggard, the telltale signs of exhaustion etched into every line of his face. Heavy bags hang beneath his eyes like burdens too heavy to bear, while the creases on his forehead seem to deepen with each passing day. Sweat beads trickle down his flushed cheeks once more, leaving behind a bitter residue on his skin. His lips, normally vibrant and lively, now wear a pallid hue, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy he once exuded.
He’s thinner than before—his cheekbones jutting out sharply beneath the surface of his skin. The lack of nourishment is evident. He knew he’d lose weight with the hectic schedule and just refusing to eat, but he hadn’t expected the transformation to be so glaringly apparent, so painfully obvious.
Turning away from the harsh reflection staring back at him, Soonyoung strides purposefully toward the speakers. With trembling hands, he fumbles for a moment before successfully connecting his phone to the Bluetooth speakers. As he sifts through his music library, his fingers hover over familiar titles, each song carrying its own memories and emotions. Finally, he settles on “Spider,” and, with a decisive tap, he initiates the playback, the melody filling the empty space of the practice room.
As the pre-chorus fills the room, Soonyoung finds himself back on his feet, instinctively moving to the beat. His eyes remain fixed on his reflection in the mirror, carefully observing his form. There’s a profound satisfaction settling inside him as he watches his body flow with the music, his lean yet slightly gaunt frame effortlessly aligning with the rhythm, embodying the dancer he truly is.
Halfway through the second verse, his focus is abruptly shattered by the sound of the practice room door opening. Startled, he freezes in place, heart racing. He turns to see Jun standing in the doorway, their eyes meeting.
“Oh, by the way—” Jun’s words trail off, the concern in his expression deepening as he takes in Soonyoung’s current state. He clears his throat. “Uh, Channie said there’s a newly opened club we can all go to after his schedule and he wanted to know if you’re up to it.”
The final seconds of “Spider” drift through the air as Soonyoung looks away from Jun. The room is then filled with a heavy silence once the music fades. Despite the urge to voice his concerns, Jun remains quiet, his eyes filled with worry and expectation. He waits patiently, hoping Soonyoung will break the silence and offer some explanation or reassurance.
Soonyoung, feeling the weight of Jun’s gaze and the concern etched on his face, takes a deep breath. “Sure,” he coughs out. “Just text me all the details and I’ll come.”
By the time night falls, Soonyoung prepares to go out, selecting a pair of jeans from his rack and carefully choosing his accessories. He foregoes makeup, knowing he’ll be wearing a mask anyway, but takes extra care with his hair, ensuring it looks just right. His outfit is simple—a pair of washed jeans and a white tank top layered with a long black coat—but the accessories he adds give it a touch of flair. Rings, a watch, and a sleek necklace elevate the understated ensemble.
Satisfied with his appearance, Soonyoung retrieves his phone from his pocket and checks the message Dino sent him a few minutes ago. He smiles slightly, feeling a mix of anticipation and relief at the prospect of spending some time outside of his idol duties. With one last glance in the mirror, he heads out, ready to embrace the night and the welcome distraction it promises.
He meets up with Jun outside their dorm, and together they make their way to the newly opened club in their area.
“Do you want to drive?”
“No.”
The club isn’t too far, just a couple of blocks from their dorm, making for a brisk and easy walk. The moment Soonyoung and Jun step into the club, they are enveloped by a wave of pulsating energy. The air is thick with the mingling scents of cologne, perfume, and a faint hint of alcohol. Neon lights flash rhythmically, casting vibrant hues of red, blue, and purple across the room, creating an almost surreal, dreamlike atmosphere. The bass from the speakers reverberates through their bodies, syncing their heartbeats with the heavy electronic beats that dominate the airwaves.
The club is packed with people, bodies moving in sync with the music on the dance floor. A sea of silhouettes sways and jumps under the ever-changing lights, each person lost in their own world of rhythm and movement. Laughter and conversation compete with the music, creating a cacophony of sound that adds to the chaotic yet exhilarating ambiance. Its interior is designed with modern, sleek aesthetics—polished surfaces, metallic accents, and plush seating areas that offer a brief respite from the frenetic dance floor. The DJ, perched on a raised platform, is the maestro of this symphonic chaos, orchestrating the ebb and flow of the night with expert precision.
As Junhui and Soonyoung take in the club’s surroundings, they notice Minghao standing nearby, a distinct look of (fond) irritation on his face as he watches Dino’s antics. However, Minghao’s expression transforms as soon as he catches sight of Soonyoung and Jun approaching. His eyes light up with relief and excitement, the earlier annoyance quickly dissipating in the presence of his friends.
“Hey,” Minghao greets them.
Soonyoung almost says, “Hey yourself,” but catches himself before the words escape his lips. He swallows the unease knotting in his stomach and forces a smile in Minghao’s direction.
“I take it you’ve been here with him for a while.”
Junhui lets out a soft laugh and adds before Minghao can reply, “Longer than we can tell?”
Minghao sighs. “Just a couple of minutes,” he answers, his gaze tearing back at Chan. “Seems like he’s got a thing for alcohol now.”
Soonyoung chuckles and pats the younger’s back. “Thanks for keeping an eye on him.”
As the hours slip by, the room becomes a blur of laughter and slurred conversations.
Soonyoung is drunk, swaying unsteadily as he leans against the bar. His words are a muddled jumble, slurred beyond recognition, making it difficult for Minghao to understand him. Despite their best efforts, no one can stop him from reaching for yet another drink. His determination to keep drinking seems unyielding, and each attempt to intervene is met with stubborn resistance.
Drink after drink disappears down his throat, the alcohol blurring the edges of his reality. His usually bright eyes are now glassy, unfocused, and rimmed with redness. As the night wears on, his emotional state begins to disentangle, the liquid courage giving way to a flood of suppressed feelings. Tears start to well up in his eyes, spilling over and tracing wet paths down his flushed cheeks. His laughter turns to sobs, and his drunken bravado crumbles into visible vulnerability.
Minghao watches with growing concern, his earlier amusem*nt replaced by a deep sense of worry. The lively atmosphere of the club feels increasingly incongruous with Soonyoung’s state.
As his members gather around, they exchange worried glances.
“Hoshingie,” Minghao coos, his voice imbued with a sweetness and gentle concern that contrasts sharply with the chaotic environment of the club. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough? You’re going to have a terrible headache in the morning, and we still need you for practice.”
Junhui, despite being visibly tipsy, nods in agreement, his movements slightly sluggish. He drapes himself over Soonyoung’s back and hiccups, “He’s right, Soonyoungie!,” his voice earnest despite the occasional slur, reflecting his genuine worry for their friend.
Soonyoung, tears still tracing down his cheeks, looks back and forth between Minghao and Junhui.
The next thing he knows, he’s being half-dragged, half-supported by Jun, while Minghao takes on the task of guiding a stumbling Dino back to the dorms. Soonyoung’s mind is still buzzing, a disorienting static voice echoing in his head. Despite the alcohol coursing through his system, a gnawing dissatisfaction remains, an itch beneath his skin that he can’t seem to scratch. The vibrant chaos of the club fades into the background, replaced by the familiar, albeit wobbly, journey home. Each step feels both heavy and light, his body swaying as he struggles to maintain balance.
Jun’s grip is firm but gentle, a steady anchor in Soonyoung’s messy state. The night air, cool against his flushed skin, does little to soothe the restless energy that continues to churn inside him. Minghao, a few paces ahead with Dino, occasionally glances back, ensuring they’re all making progress.
The city’s lights blur into streaks of color, and the once comforting darkness now feels oppressive. Soonyoung’s thoughts are a fragmented mess, the itch inside him a constant, nagging reminder of something unresolved, something he couldn’t escape, no matter how much he drank.
So, he bolts. It all happened too fast. With a burst of desperate energy, he wriggles free from Jun’s grip and takes off running.
In his intoxicated mind, there’s only one place that feels safe—the Universe Factory.
As he sprints away, the sound of Jun and Minghao’s shouts pierce the night air. He can hear the urgency in their voices, pleading for him to stop, their footsteps pounding the pavement as they give chase. However, he knows that the inebriated Dino is slowing them down, buying him precious moments to widen the gap.
The city lights blur past him as he races through the streets, his heart pounding in his chest. His breath comes in ragged gasps, each step fueled by a mix of adrenaline and desperation. He barely registers the familiar landmarks, his focus solely on reaching the studio.
Finally, he sees the Universe Factory looming ahead. As he nears the entrance, he can still hear the faint, distant calls of Jun and Minghao, but they feel worlds away.
He stumbles inside, the familiar surroundings bringing a fleeting sense of comfort. He collapses onto the floor, the physical exertion catching up with him. His mind still buzzes, the static voice still present, but here, in this place of creation and refuge, he feels a sliver of peace starting to creep in. He takes a deep breath and gathers himself before returning to his feet.
He expects to find the producer in the solitude of the studio, anticipating the familiar presence to ground him and finally talk to him with the liquid courage he has gathered. With trembling hands, he punches in the passcode and pushes open the door, only to be greeted by emptiness.
The studio stands silent and void of life.
Soonyoung falls onto his knees as he registers the emptiness of the studio. He sobs uncontrollably, the sound of his cries echoing off the empty walls. Each breath feels like a struggle, his head is pounding with a relentless rhythm, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him until it becomes difficult to draw air into his lungs. The atmosphere in the room feels suffocating, the stale air doing little to ease his escalating panic.
Everything feels impossibly heavy as if the weight of his emotions threatens to crush him under its unbearable burden. In the midst of his anguish, only one thought comes through him: he wants to make things right with Jihoon.
But Jihoon isn’t here. The realization hits Soonyoung like a pile of bricks, intensifying the ache in his chest. His Jihoon, the one who rarely strays from the confines of the studio, is nowhere to be found. He wanted to make things right between them even if it took liquid courage to push him. But now, faced with the emptiness of the studio, that hope crumbles, leaving him feeling even more lost and alone.
The tears continue to fall unabated, mingling with the shadows in the dimly lit room.
“Hoshi!” Jun’s voice breaks through the haze of Soonyoung’s despair, drawing him back to the present moment. Through tear-streaked eyes, he can barely make out the figures drawing nearer, the sound of footsteps growing louder.
Summoning every ounce of willpower he has left, Soonyoung staggers towards Jihoon’s monitor, his movements fueled by desperation. With a shaky breath, he wipes away the tears obscuring his vision and focuses on the screen. Despite the pounding in his head and the blur of his surroundings, his determination doesn’t deter.
He types in the familiar passcode, his fingers moving almost instinctively as he navigates through Jihoon’s music library. Each button press feels like a herculean effort, the pain in his head intensifying with each passing moment. But Soonyoung refuses to be deterred.
After scrolling through several folders in Jihoon’s music library, Soonyoung’s fingers accidentally stumble upon a new one labeled “KSY.” Swallowing the lump in his throat, he hesitates for a moment before guiding the mouse and clicking on the folder, his heart pounding in his chest.
Seven songs are immediately presented on the screen, but Soonyoung doesn’t remember having seven songs under his name. He knows he only has six songs, so where did this other one come from? Despite the haze of alcohol clouding his thoughts, a sense of unease gnaws at him as he skims through the titles, searching for the unfamiliar one.
Finally, his eyes settle on the mysterious song, its title unfamiliar and its origins a mystery. With a mix of confusion and trepidation, Soonyoung clicks on the track, the sound filling the studio with a foreign melody.
Before he could ponder further, Minghao’s voice cut through the air, filled with urgency and concern, “Hyung, what are you—!?” But it was too late, the melody of the unknown track already filling the studio, enveloping them in its allure.
The world around him fades away, consumed by the ethereal strains of music emanating from the speakers.
until this song ends
please don’t cry
can you listen to my words
even if this song ends
please come back to me
i’ll wait for you
oh, baby babythe warmth of your hand is still the same
i wonder if you’re lost somewhere
i only have you just you
even though you tell me to forget you
you, you, you, baby
before this song ends
