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The dim glow of the recording studio cast long shadows over the console, blinking lights and glowing waveforms reflected in Soobin’s wide eyes. He had just slumped back into his chair, breath uneven, cheeks burning, as Yeonjun smirked down at him with that signature mischievous glint in his eyes.
“That was... productive,” Yeonjun murmured, voice husky with amusement.
Soobin groaned, hiding his face behind his hands. “We weren’t even supposed to be in here this late,” he mumbled. “What if someone hears—”
Yeonjun silenced him with a quick peck to his temple. “Don’t worry, no one’s listening.”
Except someone was listening. Well, not yet. But soon.
—
The next morning, Yeonjun strolled back into the studio, still grinning from last night’s escapade. He’d promised the others he’d review some demos, and while skimming through the files, something unfamiliar caught his eye—an untitled recording, timestamped way too conveniently.
Curious, he clicked play.
A quiet shuffle. A muffled gasp. And then—
Soobin’s breathy, needy whimper and a moan right after filled the studio speakers.
Yeonjun froze. His stomach did a backflip. Then, a slow, wicked grin spread across his lips.
Oh, this is gold.
His mind spun with possibilities. It wasn’t just the sound itself—it was perfect. The tone, the softness, the vulnerability—it was practically begging to be used in a track. Maybe layered under a chorus, maybe subtly woven into an interlude. The idea was too good to pass up.
He had to share it.
—
Ten minutes later, he burst into the dorm, dragging Beomgyu, Taehyun, and Hueningkai into the living room. “Guys, you need to hear this.”
Beomgyu looked up from his phone. “What is it?”
Yeonjun wiggled his eyebrows and pressed play.
Silence. And then—
Soobin’s unmistakable whimper followed by a breathy moan.
A beat of silence.
Then chaos.
Beomgyu nearly fell off the couch, cackling. Taehyun raised his brows, impressed. “Damn, I didn’t know he could sound like that.”
Hueningkai, ever the innocent, gasped. “Hyung!”
Yeonjun was nearly doubled over with laughter. “Tell me this wouldn’t make a perfect background sample.”
Beomgyu clapped his hands. “Oh, absolutely. Imagine it in a bridge, all subtle, layered under harmonies. Chef’s kiss.”
Taehyun smirked. “I could work some magic with it.”
Hueningkai, though still red-faced, giggled. “Soobin hyung is going to die.”
Beomgyu was already opening his laptop. “Give me ten minutes. I’m adding it to an instrumental right now.”
Yeonjun flopped onto the couch, grinning. “I knew I could count on you.”
—
By the time Soobin got home later that evening, he could already sense that something was up. The dorm was too quiet. Suspiciously quiet.
He dropped his bag by the door and peeked into the living room, where the other four were huddled around Taehyun’s laptop, snickering like children caught doing something very mischievous.
“…What are you guys doing?”
Yeonjun was the first to turn to him, smug as ever. “Oh, nothing. Just working on our next hit song.”
Soobin’s eyes narrowed. “...Why are you looking at me like that?”
Beomgyu barely held back a snort. “Come listen.”
Soobin cautiously stepped closer, and Taehyun pressed play.
Soft instrumentals filled the room, building into an atmospheric soundscape—then, nestled perfectly in the mix, was his own voice—that delicate, breathy sound of his, seamlessly looped and reverbed like a sample straight out of a dreamy R&B track.
Soobin’s soul left his body.
His jaw dropped. His face burned. “YOU RECORDED THAT?!”
Yeonjun was laughing so hard he could barely stay upright. “Technically, you recorded it. You forgot to turn off the mic.”
Soobin clutched his chest like he’d been stabbed. “DELETE IT. RIGHT NOW.”
Beomgyu wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh, absolutely not. It’s art.”
Taehyun crossed his arms, smirking. “Actually, we were thinking of making it a hidden track.”
Hueningkai, though still pink in the face, nodded enthusiastically. “It really adds to the vibe!”
Soobin groaned and sank onto the couch, burying his face in a pillow. “I’m never showing my face in public again.”
Yeonjun plopped down beside him, draping an arm over his shoulders. “Oh, come on, baby. It’s kind of cute.”
Soobin turned to glare at him, eyes wet with betrayal. “You are so sleeping on the couch tonight.”
Yeonjun just grinned, kissing his cheek. “Worth it.”
—
Later that night, Soobin lay in bed, still fuming. The embarrassment was unbearable. Every time he closed his eyes, he could hear it—his own sound, looped and mixed like some kind of hypnotic melody. And the fact that all four of them had been in on it?
He pulled the blanket over his face. Maybe if he hid long enough, the Earth would swallow him whole.
A soft knock interrupted his self-pity party. He peeked out just as Yeonjun slipped into the room.
“Still mad?” Yeonjun asked, voice gentle.
Soobin huffed and turned away. “You know I am.”
The bed dipped as Yeonjun sat beside him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, brushing a hand through Soobin’s hair. “We got carried away.”
Soobin grumbled, but his heart was already betraying him, melting at Yeonjun’s touch.
Yeonjun chuckled. “For what it’s worth… I really do think it sounds beautiful.”
Soobin finally peeked up at him, hesitant. “You do?”
Yeonjun smiled, warm and sincere. “Of course. Your voice is always beautiful. Even when you’re whining.”
Soobin smacked his chest, but Yeonjun just laughed and pulled him closer. “Alright, alright. I’ll make it up to you.”
“…How?” Soobin asked warily.
Yeonjun smirked. “Well, I could delete the file…”
Soobin narrowed his eyes. “Or?”
“…Or I could keep it for personal use.”
Soobin groaned, shoving Yeonjun away. “Get out.”
Yeonjun only laughed, pulling the blanket over both of them. “Nope. I’m staying right here.”
Soobin sighed, already knowing he was doomed.
And, despite himself, he let Yeonjun stay.