Chapter Text
The studio clock ticked past 12:30 AM. The night had stretched, melted, blurred. Sungjin glanced at the glowing red On Air light, then at Zayn—who, hours earlier, had been halfway out the door before Sungjin physically dragged him back. Now? He was still in the chair. Relaxed. Almost comfortable.
Sungjin leaned toward the mic, his voice carrying that late-night velvet.
“Well, folks, I think we’ve witnessed a miracle tonight. Zayn Malik walked in unannounced, tried to ghost me, and somehow… ended up staying. We laughed, we got deep, we even learned his official stance on spam. Truly historic.”
Zayn chuckled quietly, shaking his head.
“And because I’m a generous host,” Sungjin continued, “I’ll give you what you came for. We’ll play that track again—the one no one’s heard before tonight. But before I hit play…” He shot Zayn a sideways look. “Any last words for the listeners? You don’t have to—but I’ll tell you now, they’ll replay this forever.”
Zayn’s fingers tapped the edge of the desk. For a moment, it looked like he’d wave it off and let Sungjin handle the close. But then, he leaned forward—close enough that his breath hit the mic. His voice was low, unpolished, and unguarded.
“… Thanks for listening. And… thanks for still being here.”
The silence that followed was thick, not empty. The kind that carried weight.
Sungjin blinked, a little stunned. Then he smiled, warmth spreading through his tone.
“You heard the man. Sometimes all you need is a midnight booth, a USB, and a little honesty.”
He slid the fader up. Zayn’s track filled the room again, haunting and beautiful, wrapping the moment in sound. Sungjin leaned back, watching the monitors light up with hearts, crying emojis, and disbelief.
As the song swelled into its chorus, he whispered one final sign-off:
“This has been Station Z. I’m Sungjin, and tonight… we all got lucky.”
The red light clicked off.
The music kept playing.
And for once, Zayn didn’t vanish. He stayed.