to watch you, to want you

by cometyeogi

Summary:

Big award winning music producer, Song Mingi, is burnt out. He doesn't know what music to make any more and after approaching over a year of creating next to nothing, Mingi finds his muse in singer Kang Yeosang. There's just something about the man's voice and style that begs Mingi to make music for him.

Notes:

• In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the yeosang fest collection.

Chapter 1

Mingi hates these kinds of events. It’s one of those trade events with an oddly specific target crowd; the annual Power of Young Artists event. It’s nothing specifically about this event that Mingi hates. It’s Mingi’s first year attending, so he doesn’t really have a reason to hate this event, but he almost didn’t come because 26 seems kind of old to be considered “young”. The banquet room has been layered in satin looking fabrics and low lighting to give the large hotel venue space a more intimate feeling, but the open door to the lobby that Mingi is hanging by ruins that illusion. The room is filled with celebrities and producers and agents and managers. It’s a wet dream for anyone trying to make connections in the music industry, but Mingi never knows who to talk to or what to say (or not say) when he does find someone to talk to. On top of that, the hors d'oeuvres that get passed around are never quite filling enough to keep Mingi in a pleasant enough mood to smile and laugh at the lame jokes that get thrown around. The one thing he does like, though, is the open bar.

He’s nursing his second tequila soda as he watches the room. He doesn’t recognize many people, assuming they must all be the operational side of what goes into selling creative talents for the masses. He only recognizes his management team from his company. And Hongjoong, obviously, who is the main reason Mingi is even at this event.

There’s some celebrities too, at least a handful that Mingi recognizes. The event is honoring three of their hand-selected “Young Inspirations”, and Mingi has seen them pass by with their entourages, followed by a camera that is getting content to be posted online for the coming weeks. Mingi hopes no one can spot him in any videos or pictures, the weirdo hiding in the shadows.

It’s just as Mingi’s starting to wonder if he can abandon his drink and slink out the exit without anyone noticing that Hongjoong emerges from the crowd, approaching Mingi.

“You planning on having fun at all tonight?” Hongjoong sets his empty champagne flute on the high top table that Mingi is leaning over.

“Nope.” Mingi grumbles before taking a sip of his drink. If he finishes his own drink too, then maybe he can convince Hongjoong to leave with him, just so Mingi doesn’t feel so awkward walking out alone. Hongjoong, however, has other plans, and turns in time to catch a waiter walking by with a tray of full champagne flutes. Hongjoong smoothly lifts one of the glasses off the tray so the waiter doesn’t even notice before he turns back to Mingi.

“Well before you slither out of here, I need you to do some business.” Mingi lifts his eyebrows, prompting Hongjoong to say more. “One of the guests of honor wants to speak with you. His assistant has been looking for you but he doesn’t know that you’re the loner sulking in the back.”

“Who says I’m sulking?” Mingi retorts, only to be met by Hongjoong’s pointed stare.

Mingi’s been doing a lot of sulking lately, a past time he picked up to replace the time he once spent creating music. Besides feeling too old for the title of “young”, he also hasn’t felt like much of an “artist” lately either. He’s not sure if he’s burnt out or working through a creative block or just plain uninspired, but as of late the music that once came to him so easily has vanished. He’s tried to unlock it again, get back to that place where he couldn’t find enough time in the day to sit at his music board and lay down track after track. Now, minutes feel like hours as the knobs and sliders on the board only seem to taunt him.

No one other than Hongjoong has really noticed, despite coming up on a year of this, whatever it is, and no new music. Mingi’s old demos are still getting picked up, which is good from a revenue stand point, but to Mingi it’s like sand in an hourglass. If he doesn’t turn the hourglass over soon and get some new music out, then his time will be up and he’ll truly be running on empty.

“Come on. We’ll get you another drink and walk over together.” Mingi can’t fight Hongjoong, not when his arm reaches up and around Mingi’s shoulder, nearly dragging him into the crowd again. Mingi has to lean down just so Hongjoong doesn’t lift off the ground and the closeness brings a fond smile to Mingi’s face. He’s glad Hongjoong hasn’t given up on him or let him fade away into nothing.

After a quick stop at the open bar, Hongjoong leads Mingi over to a roped-off section of the room. It’s not any more private than the rest of the room, but the ropes do provide a very clear boundary for which side attendees should be on and which side VIPs should be on. That and the big security staff placed expertly every few feet probably helps too. There’s couches on platforms and massive backdrops behind them with logos of event sponsors plastered all over the vinyl.

The Young Inspirations on the other side of the velvet ropes that were paraded around the room before all look a bit… stiff. Having VIP status at one of these events is more of a curse than a blessing, or that’s how Mingi sees it. Sure, the whole room has their eyes on you, but on the other hand the whole room has their eyes on you. You’re on display, unable to truly relax and have fun because who knows who is gawking at you at any moment, ready to snap a photo, even if it’s at the most unflattering angle or the worst possible second.

Hongjoong slides up to one of the security staff, an air of confidence that is not reciprocated by the large man before them. “I’m on the list. Seonghwa added me and my friend here.”

The security staff looks Hongjoong up and down, or so Mingi thinks. It’s hard to tell where the man is looking with his dark shades covering his eyes

“Let them through, please.” A voice says from behind the security staff, who steps aside for Mingi to see the owner of the voice.

“Thank you, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong says like a pointed insult, stepping closer to the rope as the security staff holds still, looking between Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Mingi almost thinks they’re about to be turned away, but Seonghwa tilts his head ever-so-slightly and the security staff agrees, finally lifting the rope to let Hongjoong and Mingi pass.

Mingi steps into the VIP area, looking around and for the first time beginning to wonder which of these “Young Inspirations” requested this meeting. Mingi doesn’t really get starstruck anymore. He used to, but as he started to get contracts with bigger and bigger artists it just kind of became part of the job. He first notices the up-and-coming movie actor that Mingi keeps hearing about from his friends. Perhaps he is getting booked for a role and wants to pick Mingi’s brain about a possible original song for the sound track.

“Sorry about that. These sponsored events can get so weird about guest list changes.” Seonghwa whispers to the two non-VIP’s that have breached the VIP area. “It’s nice to meet you, Mingi. I’m Seonghwa.”

Mingi looks away from the line-up of stars to greet Seonghwa, taking him in more carefully now. He’s dressed in a clean black suit, a white button up to match the white pocket square, and hair slicked perfectly and trimmed just past his ears. If Mingi didn’t know better he would think Seonghwa was an actual VIP himself and not the assistant to a VIP.

Mingi almost starts to ask about who exactly asked for the meeting, but Seonghwa quickly interrupts him. “I apologize for the hurriedness of this meeting, but my client has to leave shortly for another schedule. Please, follow me.” Seonghwa says, turning and letting Mingi and Hongjoong catch up to him and his quick pace.

They pass the movie star, disproving Mingi’s first guess, and then they pass the Youtube creator that Mingi has seen in his recommendations a handful of times but never clicked because make-up tutorials for school photos for a natural, clean girl look aren't exactly his thing.

Instead he finds himself standing before San-G, the idol, who Mingi didn’t even know was here tonight. He must have been so totally covered by staff when he walked past earlier that Mingi missed him entirely. But now he sits plainly and perfectly for Mingi to witness, like some ethereal deity. He has some people sitting next to him on the couch, but they’re either not including him in the conversation or San-G has completely checked out of the conversation, his eyes wandering around the room and a polite smile on his face.

San-G’s all-black suit and tie contrasts nicely against the magenta velvet couch he is seated at, posture perfect and legs elegantly crossed at the ankles. His soft, blonde hair perfectly frames his face, a few carefully pulled strands styled to sit just against his temples and cheeks, but they don’t block his eyes for onlookers. Mingi suddenly feels wildly underdressed by comparison: a navy suit he didn’t even bother to get tailored and a black mock turtleneck that has started to itch at his neck.

San-G isn’t necessarily the most popular idol in the current era of K-Pop, but he’s certainly hard to miss. After a successful run on a K-Pop survival show, San-G debuted in the 12-member TWiNKLEz. The group only lasted a few years due to contract negotiations falling through with some of the members’ original parent companies, including San-G’s company. While a majority of the trainees slowly faded into obscurity, San-G’s career shot off once he was freed from group promotions, which was to be expected for the number 1 overall pick in the finale. Mingi tends to avoid a lot of that mainstream pop music, but he knows that San-G’s musical releases often top the charts, leaving few spots for other artists with releases at the same time. Mingi has also seen San-G’s name on the end of year most successful K-Pop artists lists for the last few years, due to his musical successes and massive touring schedule.

A swift shiver spreads through Mingi’s body, and his fingers grasp tighter around his drink, the liquid courage may be more vital than he knew when he picked it up earlier. This kind of nervousness only shows when Mingi feels entirely unprepared and would give anything to turn and run the other way, but still he follows behind Seonghwa obediently, if only because he knows Hongjoong is right behind him and would catch him before he made it far.

Mingi quickly tries to dispel these unwanted nerves. He has no reason to be nervous, because San-G is just another idol to Mingi, or so Mingi tries to tell himself. The bundle of nerves working its way through his chest is just carbonation from the tequila soda he had earlier.

Seonghwa approaches San-G, who turns to him, like on a cue. “San-G, this is-”

“Mingi.” San-G says, his voice smooth and sure, and Mingi swears the floor and walls switch, leaving him feeling unbalanced and dizzy. Obviously San-G knows who Mingi is if he asked to meet with him, but it’s unnerving in a way. What exactly does he know that made him interested in Mingi?

Mingi bows his head down slightly, allowing his heart to catch back up to a normal, or slightly less accelerated, pace, before looking back up to San-G.

“Yes.” Seonghwa adds, sounding a bit perturbed at the interruption. “And this is his colleague Hongjoong.”

“I’m more like his boss.” Hongjoong says, bowing as well, straightening up to take another sip from his champagne flute. “Or even a mentor, if you want to get specific.”

“Right.” Seonghwa responds, more visibly agitated by Hongjoong’s corrections. “Just a reminder, we need to leave in the next ten minutes.”

San-G thanks Seonghwa quickly, turning back to Mingi. “Mingi, please take a seat.” San-G scoots down the couch, opening up a space for Mingi in the corner. The other people on the couch, who Mingi assumed were just simply ignoring San-G, discreetly remove themselves from the couch, looping behind Mingi to pull Seonghwa into their conversation. Hongjoong floats near Seonghwa, ignoring Mingi’s pleading gaze to join his conversation with San-G.

Mingi moves towards the platform, careful of each step because nothing would make this worse than if he tripped and spilled his drink. He takes his seat next to San-G, carefully perching himself on the edge of the velvet, poised to up and run, if needed. He should say something first. “Thanks for meeting me.” “Congratulations on your award.” “You look really nice.” Anything, but Mingi’s mouth goes dry and instead he just stares ahead.

“Sorry to pull you from the party like this.” San-G says, breaking the silence, but it’s still uncomfortable and tense.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t having much fun anyway.” Mingi answers plainly, and immediately regrets his choice of words. San-G doesn’t need to know that Mingi was off in the corner like a loner.

San-G lets out a quiet “oh”, looking out into the crowd again. “It looks fun from up here.”

Mingi looks out into the crowd and San-G isn’t wrong. The bleak outlook Mingi had from the corner of the room somehow dissipates. From this new perspective the crowd does seem to be actually enjoying themselves. Mingi looks over to San-G again, who is still looking out into the crowd and Mingi thinks he senses a look of longing beneath San-G’s eyelashes. Mingi wonders if it gets lonely for San-G at events like this, not entirely unsimilar to how Mingi feels tonight.

“But I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you over here.” San-G finally remarks, pulling himself out of his own pause. Mingi nods, curious about his intentions. “I’m getting ready to release my first full album and my company has agreed to let me bring forward a producer pick. I want it to be you.”

Mingi should’ve seen this coming. What else could have come out of this conversation? It seems pretty simple what an idol would want to talk to a music producer about. Still, Mingi is a bit dumbfounded. He’s heard a few of San-G’s songs, just from how much they get played out in public spaces, and their two styles are a bit opposing.

Mingi’s music is heavy and loud, often drawing rappers and a handful of punk and metal bands. San-G’s music is bright and fun and so catchy that even people who don’t want to like it still find themselves singing along to the easy melodies. It’s a pairing that Mingi didn’t see coming.

“Is that amusing to you?” Mingi’s lips stiffen into a line as he realizes a sly smirk had formed on his face at San-G’s request.

“Yeah, kind of.” Mingi answers honestly because his brain isn’t functioning fast enough to come up with a lie. “We have pretty different sounds, wouldn’t you say?”

San-G smiles at this comment. “I guess that’s a fair point, but I want to do something different. Everything I’ve released up until this point is good, but I want something great. Something that is wholly me. Something that defines this moment in my career, or maybe it defines my whole career.”

Mingi doesn’t quite understand what San-G means by this. The difference between one moment in time compared to the entire expanse of his career, which only seems to be on an upward trend with the potential to make him one of the greatest K-Pop idols in history. Somewhere in his years-long discography there must be some stand-out San-G songs. Songs that his fans identify with that justify his popularity, right?

“That is, um, admirable.” He doesn’t mean to be insensitive, but it’s not like he’s in a place to offer any kind of studio time when he can’t even put together a simple melody on his own, let alone with an audience. “I can send over some demos I have and anything you like have your people contact my people, I guess.” Mingi regurgitates a line he’s gotten very familiar with over the last few months.

Mingi knocks back the rest of his drink, thinking the conversation is coming to a close and he can go home and escape this turtleneck that is feeling more and more like it’s closing in around his throat. Out of the corner of his eye though he sees San-G quickly shake his head at this offer. “No, I don’t think I was very clear. I want something that is me. There’s a lot I can do on my own: write the lyrics, come up with simple melodies, and sing, obviously. But I need help. I’m not sure what this album sounds like yet, but that’s why I need someone like you. I need someone who understands what I’m doing and piece together what I can’t. I need a partner in all this.”

Mingi looks over to San-G again, this time looking more closely. His posture is straight, his hands rest atop his knees, perfectly posed for any stray photo that might be taken when he doesn’t notice. Mingi wonders if this had been a part of some PR training San-G had to go through as an idol. Mingi’s seen some of these programs the trainees are put through at other companies and it seems exhausting. But if San-G has any level of exhaustion, he doesn’t wear it on his face or body. He still seems present and engaged, like he debuted a day ago, an energy that erodes from most artists the longer they last in this business. Mingi used to be like that too, but it feels like an eternity since that feeling.

“My company has my schedule booked every day from morning to night and sometimes even into the next morning.” San-G starts, unfettered by Mingi’s unwavering stare. “I’m starting to think they don’t see me as a singer anymore, but a vessel for more revenue and capital. The only reason I’m finally getting to do an entire album is because that’s how it’s written in my original contract with them. If they didn’t have to, they wouldn’t because it’s not as profitable as signing me on for another brand ambassadorship.”

San-G sighs. An exhaustive breath, the first sign that he may actually be cracking under that perfected facade.

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?” Mingi asks. It’s not his usual line of questioning when meeting with an artist, but San-G is already proving to be a little different than the rest.

San-G smiles, rolling his eyes slightly, a taunting playfulness that only pulls Mingi in more. “You know that one TVXQ album? O?”

Mingi nods while letting out a breathy laugh. “Who doesn’t?”

“Right, stupid question.” San-G’s small giggle causes Mingi to melt with a strange feeling of adoration. “I loved that album growing up. I basically ruined my sister’s CD player because I would play that album over and over. I’d learn the dances and sing all the parts in my living room. My parents didn’t believe me when I said I wanted to be an idol. They said I would grow out of it, and it just made me want to prove them wrong. And now it feels like my label doesn’t think I can make it as just a singer. I want to prove them wrong. I will prove them wrong. Show them I was meant to be a singer.”

It’s odd. Mingi gets it: when someone tells him he can’t do something and it just makes him want to do it more. But he kind of thought he was the only one that worked like that. Or, maybe there are others like him, but he didn’t think San-G would be one of them. How often is one of the most popular idols told no? Especially when all he wants to do is sing, which seems like a pretty important piece of being an idol.

“San-G?” Mingi and San-G both snap their attention to Seonghwa who had approached the two of them unknowingly. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but the travel team has informed me that we need to leave a few minutes early. There’s a crowd outside and it may take us longer to get out.”

“Ah, yeah, okay. Let me just wrap this up.” San-G answers, rubbing his hands against his pants, looking around him although he has no other items to take with him. San-G stands, but his eyes lower back down to Mingi on the couch. “It seems like you may need more time to think about this, Mingi. My company wants my pick by next week. If you’re interested then have your people contact my people, I guess.”

San-G smiles amusedly at his own joke, stepping around Mingi towards Seonghwa and ultimately to leave.

Mingi should sleep on it. Think about this offer a little longer than the few minutes he spoke to San-G, because that’s the realistic responsible thing to do, especially considering his current predicament. And it’s not like he’s putting anyone at an inconvenience by waiting. San-G just said he has a week to give an answer to his company.

So why does Mingi feel a heavy pressure in his chest? Why does his throat feel tight (moreso than it does with the turtleneck)? Why does it feel like if he lets San-G walk away now, that he’ll never see him again? Is it possible he’ll contact other producers who will jump at the chance to work with the San-G? Does Mingi really care if he does talk to other producers? With the way Mingi’s fingers are curling into a ball around his palm, yes, some part of him does care.

“San-G.” Mingi pushes the name out of his mouth, his tongue feeling more heavy and dry. San-G turns from the spot he’s in, only a few steps from the couch. “Let’s see how one song goes before we agree to a whole album.”

San-G smiles, a soft kind of smirk that blooms into a full smile with teeth poking behind his lips. “Deal.”

San-G holds out his hand for Mingi to shake. Mingi lifts himself off the couch, finding it a bit inappropriate to accept a handshake from an idol like San-G while he’s still seated. San-G’s hand is soft and warm, almost as velvety as the couch Mingi was just sitting on.

“And Mingi?” Mingi’s overthinking about the moisture on his palms and if he’s squeezing San-G’s palms too tight are interrupted by San-G’s voice. “Call me Yeosang.”

Chapter 2

Summary:

Mingi meets with San-G to test the waters of their budding professional relationship.

Notes:

tw: Mingi jokes about throwing himself onto train tracks in the very first paragraph and later on mentions that he's glad he didn't.

Mingi looks out onto the train tracks ahead of him, wondering if it would be too dramatic to fling himself in the trench along with the dull tracks to avoid this meeting. Definitely too dramatic and with his luck he’d probably survive and still have to face meeting San-G, or Yeosang. Definitely Yeosang. He told Mingi to call him that for a reason, right?

Why had he agreed to this? He hasn’t made a song in months. Months. And he just agreed to make one song, and possibly a whole album with one of the most popular idols in the industry? What was he thinking? He’d like to blame the alcohol, but in the almost 36 hours since the party Mingi realized something else came over him. He couldn’t name it entirely. He could barely even control it when it compelled him to speak the other night, but it was something. Something he quickly decided needed to stay buried back to wherever it came from, at least until he got through this session, which will most likely end with them parting ways because - again - Mingi hasn’t made a song in months.

Mingi looks down at his phone, scrubbing through the current San-G song he’s listening to. It’s definitely that highly polished K-Pop kind of music. It’s not bad, really. Mingi likes some of them. The beats have that “you’ll never get this out of your head” quality that only a seasoned producer would be able to come up with, further worrying Mingi that he’s the entirely wrong person for this job. But every song has a common denominator, no matter the mix of producers credited on the song: Yeosang’s voice is hard to actually hear. Whatever mixing is happening seems to downplay Yeosang to the point that Mingi thinks there might be something wrong with his headphones.

Mingi stares deeper into his phone, like maintaining eye contact with the device will help him hear Yeosang better when he feels a firm series of taps on his shoulders, causing him to jump slightly, startled by the interaction. He pulls out one of his wired headphones, turning to find a face hidden underneath a black cap and black face mask, balancing three phones in one hand. Mingi stares back at the stranger, and the man drops his head in a slight bow. “It’s good to see you again.”

Mingi stares into the eyes of the stranger for a few seconds before recognizing them as the eyes of Yeosang’s assistant from the other night. “Seonghwa?”

Seonghwa’s steps stutter, almost like he thinks about stopping but chooses to continue moving forward. He whips his head around to shoot Mingi a dirty glare, his eyelids pulling together into a narrow point. “Didn’t you read the email?” Seonghwa hisses.

Mingi tenses, suddenly hating the whole set up again. San-G’s schedule is so tight that he only had time to meet with during a train ride to Busan, where San-G was scheduled for a brand shoot. Mingi was told in an encrypted email that discretion was key when arriving for the meeting. He shouldn’t seek out Yeosang or his team, but wait for someone to come collect him. “San-G’s safety is the utmost concern in any public space” the email read, and thus everything would be kept very low key. Too low key, if you ask Mingi. San-G is an idol, not the President.

Mingi shrugs an apology, and Seonghwa seems to accept it, turning back towards the train car and Mingi follows a few steps behind.

“Train is scheduled to last almost three hours, which should be more than enough time for you and my client to work.” Seonghwa says, only mildly distracted by one of the phones he started tapping away. “Assuming all goes well, our lawyers will contact your company’s lawyers with the contract and payment schedule. Final approval will come from our base operations team.”

“And you’ll need my approval, too.” Mingi adds as a reminder more for himself than for Seonghwa. Just because Mingi agreed to this without fully thinking it through doesn’t mean he has to actually see it through. Or will be able to. Mingi wonders if he would be the first person to turn down an opportunity to work with the San-G, and if he or Yeosang would be more embarrassed in that scenario

“Uh, yes. I suppose that will be necessary too.” Seonghwa remarks, eyes narrowing, unbelieving that Mingi might be the one to refuse the unpromised proposition.

The pair continues down the platform, passing by mostly filled train cars. “Do you know how I’m getting home at the end of all this?” Mingi asks, realizing he never went back to finish reading the email after he first got it, still sure then he wouldn’t actually follow through with this meeting.

“You’ll ride the same train back. Your return ticket was emailed to you within our original communication.” Seonghwa eyes Mingi, looking down to Mingi’s hands and then back to his eyes. “Would you like to confirm that you have the return ticket?”

“Do you need me to?” Mingi asks.

“I suppose I’m not responsible for you outside of this meeting.” Seonghwa answers, quickly moving on. “But I will need you to check your email because I also forwarded an NDA you’ll need to sign before you can speak with him.”

“But I’ve already spoken to him without one.” Mingi counters. Honestly he doesn’t mind an NDA, wouldn’t be the first he’s had to sign either. But he does kind of enjoy making Seonghwa answer all of his innocuous questions. Seems fair considering the lengths Mingi is going to for this meeting.

“Yes, an anomaly as it is company policy to get an NDA before meeting with our client, however the other night was unplanned.” Mingi senses some residual perturbation in Seonghwa’s sigh following his answer.

“You mean the planned event that has probably been on the books for weeks?”

“Well, yes, but I wasn’t aware that you would be there, but once Yeo-” Seonghwa stops himself before he speaks Yeosang’s name, and Mingi can see a small twitch of his neck muscle. “No more questions. Please just sign the NDA and keep up.”

Mingi smiles, feeling a twisted sense of victory for catching Seonghwa off guard. He pulls out his phone from his front pocket as instructed though, his pace slowing as he tries to manage walking, opening his email, and attempting to read through the legal document before just signing away his silence without fully reading the document.

“If you can also hurry just a little bit. All other passengers have boarded and if we can get you on the train will depart a few minutes early. Production wants our client on set ASAP.” Seonghwa’s steps quicken, and Mingi follows, taking longer strides to meet Seonghwa’s double speed.

Once at the door to the first class train car that Seonghwa has led them to, they’re stopped by a very conspicuous looking security guard. A different man than the one from the other night. Seonghwa flashes a smile and something on his phone and the guard lets them both through.

The first class cabin, despite being closed off to the other passengers, feels rather full. Everyone seems split off by work groups. There are some stylists gathered at a four top, two of them working on tailoring some garments and the other two reviewing papers with designs. Across from them are some older men, managers it seems, all clicking away on their laptops and speaking into headphones, causing the most noise of all the staff in the car. Another smaller group ahead of them is working off tablets and phones, and Mingi can’t immediately tell their purpose until he passes one of their screens and sees an extremely detailed post for various social media sites being laid out and sent off in email. This team is the only one that acknowledges Seonghwa, and by proximity, Mingi as well. It’s just a smile and nod, but it’s more than the complete lack of interest the others offered.

As they approach the front of the train cabin Seonghwa leads Mingi down a narrow corridor to a side entrance to a separate room. From the window on the door, Mingi spots Yeosang, or he finds the almost radiant white blonde hair on top of Yeosang’s head, first. He’s alone, despite the very full train car. It feels strange, that the person that’s generated all this work and commotion is separated from the others. And maybe that’s because no one really deserves to be in his presence when he’s looking like an angel. His soft, blonde hair is complimented by an even whiter turtleneck, and his face is sandwiched between the two. Like the crème filling of an Oreo cookie; the best part. Mingi will let himself believe this oncoming wave of nervousness is because he’s in the presence of an idol like Yeosang, and no other reason.

Seonghwa brings Mingi into the cabin. “Your guest has arrived.”

Yeosang looks up at the introduction and Mingi does his best to maintain his even expression. The one that usually gets him in trouble because people think he’s not listening or he’s disinterested, but it’s just his face. It doesn’t give away what he’s thinking or feeling, and hell he could really use that right now while his mind races with a thousand thoughts.

No wonder this guy is an idol, he’s so pretty.

Does it seem like I’m gawking? Maybe he’s used to people gawking.

I like when he smiles.

“Thought you might have backed out on me.” Yeosang teases. To Mingi, this kind of comment would seem like a passive aggressive comment about his punctuality, but coming from Yeosang it’s charming. Something about the way the fringe of Yeosang’s hair rests against the side of his face or the bubble of his cheeks, leaving Mingi a little more dumbfounded.

“Well I’m sure you have a lot to discuss and I have work to get back to. I’ll leave you two.” Seonghwa slides past Mingi, exiting the cabin and closing the door shut behind Mingi.

“Please, sit.” Yeosang says, grabbing Mingi’s attention again. His voice registers at a deeper level than the other night. Mingi wonders if he’s just tired or maybe the voice change is part of the persona he puts on when he’s in more public settings. He feels a bit undeserving of this more personal side of Yeosang, but he won’t protest getting closer to Yeosang. Mingi settles into the bench seat across from Yeosang, gently setting his bag on the seat next to him and then pulls his laptop out from the back pocket.

“Sorry about all this.” Yeosang nearly whispers. Mingi almost misses it, the sound of his zipper louder than Yeosang’s voice. Mingi looks to Yeosang, not exactly sure what he should be accepting the apology for.

“Seonghwa collecting you like that, meeting on the train like this, the short time we have. It’s not really how I wanted to do this, but I don’t have much free time in my schedule and I’m really excited to start this project with you…” Yeosang’s sentence doesn’t find its end, lingering into a silence that isn’t entirely uncomfortable.

“Yeah, me too.” Mingi says, omitting his earlier desires to flee the scene. He receives a small smile from Yeosang, only now thankful he didn’t lunge onto the train tracks.

“I have those demos we talked about.” Mingi starts again before catching a funny twitch of Yeosang’s eyebrows before continuing. “I know you said you weren’t interested in them, but I want to play a few of them.”

Yeosang hesitates, his face screwing up into this agitated kind of expression, still annoyed by Mingi’s outlandish request to listen to some demos first.

“I get it, no demos. But I have to know what elements you’re looking for, and then when we start building your song I know what to pull from so we can align on your vision.” Mingi laughs, his own annoyance retaliating back, wondering if this is what Hongjoong felt like when he first introduced Mingi to FL Studio for the first time. “It’s like you’ve never made a song before.”

“I haven’t.” Yeosang’s answer is short and direct. It grabs Mingi’s attention, silencing his little giggles. Yeosang’s angelic demeanor is gone, and the glare that meets Mingi’s eyes sends a small shiver through Mingi’s neck. “At least not from start to finish. Everything that’s been released under my name has been produced and written by producers my company picks. They sometimes have me write a few lyrics or let me suggest a few changes just so they can say I write and produce, but I’ve never truly made a song.”

A not-so-subtle redness rises in Yeosang’s cheeks as he speaks. He’s articulate and clear, and the flush on his face isn’t from embarrassment. It’s assertive, commanding in a way, a determination to be heard and understood. It only emphasizes how important this is to him, as he had explained the earlier night. Nothing like the redness that prickles up Mingi’s neck, which is because of embarrassment at his blunder.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t really think about what I was saying.” Mingi mumbles, clicking away at nothing on his laptop just so he has a reason not to meet Yeosang’s eyes.

Yeosang sighs, and Mingi catches him slump slightly in his seat, the first time Mingi’s seen Yeosang not in his perfectly-practiced idol pose. “No, I’m sorry. This is exactly why I didn’t want to do this meeting here. I wanted more time to work on this, but my company thinks this is a waste of time so they won’t actually give me the time to do it.”

”They said that?” Mingi asks, his words slipping out before he can wonder if it’s even appropriate to ask.

A look of consternation flashes across Yeosang’s face, but he continues. “Not in so many words, but after years of the same game I know when they’re just giving me the runaround. They give me just enough slack to do something on my own, but then let me fall flat on my face and then I have to do it their way. I think they’re trying to sabotage this album, even if I end up having to let them produce it. ”

Mingi starts to say something, but Yeosang continues, not even noticing Mingi was trying to speak. “They want it to release at the beginning of the award season, which doesn’t even make sense because by the time the next awards season rolls around my album might get nominated, but no one will remember it. Or, that’s what it seems like at least because why else are they rushing it?”

”So then why am I here?” Again, Mingi really wishes that he would try thinking before he speaks, but this something he can’t control seems to be getting the better of him. Yeosang snaps his eyes up to Mingi’s, like he forgot that he was speaking of another person, then tilts his head in confusion. Mingi continues. “If they’re trying to sabotage you, won’t they just reject whatever we make no matter what?”

Yeosang opens his mouth to speak, presses his lips closed, opens them again, and closes them one more time. “I don’t think I should say.” Yeosang strings along in a mumble, his perfect idol posture slowly returns as he stiffens his shoulders, remembering it’s not very idol-like to complain about his management.

“You wanted a partner for this album, right?” Mingi asks, reminding Yeosang of the pitch he gave to Mingi the other night. Yeosang nods, without hesitation.

“And we’re partners, right?” Mingi asks. Yeosang nods, again, without hesitation. And again, it feels a bit undeserved for Mingi, but he continues. “Then we should trust each other with some things, right? Things we don’t trust anyone else with, right?”

This time Yeosang hesitates, but Mingi waits. In the silence, the train car grows louder as it accelerates down the track. The stillness of the air tickles against the inside of Mingi’s nostrils. The graze of Yeosang’s leg against Mingi’s feels like an unexpected wave crashing against him.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this.” Mingi says, and he hopes the rattling of the cabin door covers how unsteady his voice sounds. Twenty minutes ago he would’ve gladly taken this exit, but now something in his chest desperately wants Yeosang to call his bluff.

Mingi starts to close his laptop, but there’s a warmth on top of his hand. Yeosang’s palm, soft and somewhat clammy, firmly holding Mingi’s hand still.

“I trust you. I just-” Yeosang begins.

“Good.” Mingi interrupts quickly, not wanting his dangerous game of chicken to go any further. “Besides, Seonghwa made me sign an NDA, so you really have nothing to worry about.” Mingi pushes back on his laptop screen to open it again and Yeosang removes his hand from Mingi’s.

“So why do you think they’re trying to sabotage you?” Mingi presses, trying to distract himself from how his hand weirdly feels heavier without Yeosang’s pressed against it.

Yeosang sighs before answering, distracting himself by picking at his nails. “I think it goes back to my contract. They gave me a contract that says I get a 70% cut of music sales, and when you’re 14 and thinking your whole career is going to be about singing that sounds great. But I kind of skipped the part where they get 70% of all my other activities.”

“Activities like commercial shoots in Busan?” Mingi asks.

Yeosang solemnly nods. “To them, this album is just a technicality. If my way of doing the album threatens any of their revenue sources, they’ll kill it and do it their way.”

Mingi’s brows point together, again struggling to fully connect the dots of Yeosang’s plan. “So they’ll give you an album because they have to...” Yeosang nods at Mingi’s wandering sentence. “But you think you can convince them to go your way because?”

Yeosang’s lips curl into an unnerving devilish smile. “Because my contract is expiring soon, and if they want me to renew-”

“Then they have to show they’re trying.” Mingi finishes Yeosang’s sentence as he realizes that Yeosang holds a hefty theoretical bargaining chip in his hand.

“Exactly. Think of it like leverage.” The proud grin on Yeosang’s face doesn’t entirely quell Mingi’s concerns. He wonders - no - worries about what else Yeosang has had to use as leverage in his line of work. Money? Labor? His body? His own happiness?

“But I’m sure we’ll make something they can’t say no to. Where do we start?” Yeosang adds, and Mingi decides to push aside his darker concerns, distracted by the much sweeter smile Yeosang wears.

Mingi clicks around on his laptop, this time with purpose, finding the folder of semi-finished demos that he pulled out for this meeting. “So, these demos.” Mingi ignores whatever Yeosang starts to say, holding up a hand to silence him, and continues. “We’re just going to listen to them together. Pick out the things you like, the things you don’t like, and tell me what you want your songs to sound like. Can we do that?”

Yeosang’s lips purse together into a tight line, but he nods, leaning back into his seat waiting for Mingi to play his demos.

It’s awkward at first. It always is when Mingi plays his demos to an audience and has to watch their reaction, and even more so when the person listening doesn’t really want to hear them. It’s a special kind of torture that he wishes wasn’t part of his job. The micro expressions that people can’t hide when they first hear something is worse than anything any critic has written about Mingi’s work. Yeosang nods his head along to the first track, visibly distances himself from the speakers during the second track, and goes back to polite head bobbing for the third. The second track is one of Mingi’s more experimental pieces, so he’s not too surprised by Yeosang’s reaction. The other two are a bit more palatable, but both use heavy guitar and bass.

“What do you think?” Mingi asks, a bit uncomfortably.

“They’re nice.” Yeosang answers. Mingi waits for him to say more, but nothing seems to come. They brew in this silence as they both wait for the other to say something.

“Ah. Right. You want to know what parts I liked.” Yeosang finally says just as Mingi was starting to wonder how much of the ride they’d spend in silence. Yeosang thinks for a second, his eyes scanning the table in front of them as he thinks. “I- I liked the instruments. Especially the guitar. I want my songs to sound like they’re live, is that helpful?”

“Yes, that’s great.” Mingi answers, feeling oddly excited about Yeosang’s very simple request. The dread he was experiencing moments ago watching Yeosang listen, suddenly fading into the background as he focuses on pulling more information out of Yeosang. “What else?”

“I want the instruments to sound live, but I don’t want it to be too rock, right? I still want it to sound like pop, in a way.” Yeosang adds, but sounds even more unsure, like he’s waiting for Mingi to give more affirmations that this is what he should be saying.

“Something between rock and pop?” Mingi clarifies, because the handful of San-G songs he listened to on the way to the train did not have hardly any rock elements to them.

Yeosang hums as he formulates his sentence. “Each song should be a new take on some cross of pop, rock, and EDM. Kind of like The Chainsmokers. I really like them.”

“The Chainsmokers?” Mingi asks, an underlying tone of disgust. The Chainsmokers are fine, and Mingi’s played around with EDM tracks with Hongjoong, but it’s not really his expertise. “Do you mean like a synth sound?”

“Yeah?” Yeosang says confidently, but the look on his face seems unsure. “Maybe? Isn’t it all kind of the same?” Mingi laughs at this, and thankfully Yeosang laughs too, seemingly not totally offended by Mingi’s response. “I like that sort of electronic sound, but the other stuff that my company has me work on feels too synth. It feels so produced that it all sounds fake, even my voice, does that make sense?”

Mingi nods in agreement, recalling how it was so difficult to actually find Yeosang’s voice in the songs he listened to earlier. “You want electronic and live traditional instruments? Like guitar and horns, that kind of stuff?” Mingi asks.

Yeosang pauses for a second before nodding. “Right. Horns.” He answers, but his tone makes Mingi think Yeosang had never even considered the idea of horns. Mingi feels a bit like a time traveler meeting someone from the past as he introduces very simple musical instruments to a musical artist. How removed is Yeosang from the production and creation of his own music?

“And if I used samples from live instruments to create a beat, would that be okay?”

Yeosang pauses again, a hum vibrating from his lips this time as he thinks. “I don’t think I know what you mean.”

“It’s like, like that one song-” Mingi looks up to the ceiling of the train car trying to think of a song Yeosang would know that explains what he’s trying to say. His mind goes blank and his throat feels dry, like he’s failing a test he hasn’t studied for. He feels a growing tension in his neck as the seconds pass because - hell - why can’t he think of an example. He looks back down at his open laptop, about to just search some song examples on the internet, when it finally clicks that he doesn’t need to find another song when he could just show Yeosang what he means.

Mingi opens a new track template on his music program, quickly pulling the first stock instrument sound from his library. “Okay, so this is an organ sample.” Mingi lets the three second sample play long enough for Yeosang to hear, and then Mingi quickly pulls out his earbuds he’d tucked away in his pocket earlier, taking them both for himself as he works behind the curtain before revealing his magic trick for Yeosang.

“An organ?” Yeosang asks, and Mingi can hear the smile on Yeosang’s lips, but he doesn’t let it slow him down.

“An organ.” Mingi’s fingers fly across his laptop keys, his thumb stretching across to the trackpad nimbly as he quickly matches the puzzle pieces he can hear in his head. “They have any instrument you can think of in these sample libraries. Then someone like me takes it and makes something with it, like how I’m going to layer it, mess around with the compression, add a generic beat and you’ll have a track.”

Mingi spends another minute quickly putting together all the elements and tricks he usually relies on when he would build a song, checking in so often to make sure he hasn’t totally lost the sound as he continues to build until he’s created a finished track that proves his point.

“So like this- here.” Mingi shoves one of his earbuds towards Yeosang. Yeosang doesn’t immediately take the little thing, not until Mingi nudges it at him again. Yeosang slips the earbud in and it pulls Mingi in, the cord not long enough to stretch over the entire length of the table. Yeosang’s face is closer than Mingi’s ever seen it. Pretty eyelashes framing even prettier brown eyes. Mingi can see the edges of Yeosang’s contact lenses, and he starts to wonder what Yeosang’s natural eye color looks like when Yeosang lets out a polite cough, covering his mouth with a closed fist.

Mingi shakes his unwarranted thoughts about Yeosang’s eyes and restarts the track. “You can still hear the organ, but because of how I’ve spliced it and added different layers-”

“I love this.” Yeosang says, cutting off Mingi before he can fully explain every single thing he did or even fully play the clip. “I definitely want a sound like this.”

It’s different, watching Yeosang listen to this 30 second loop compared to when he was listening to the stale demos. Those demos that are so distant to Mingi that it doesn't even feel like he made them anymore, but this is fresh and new and exciting. It’s nice, the way Yeosang rhythmically nods his head, his eyes closed so he can hear - enjoy - the sounds more. Mingi is quietly thankful that Yeosang's tempting eyes are hidden behind his eyelids, but it’s quickly forgotten as his own eyes find a new target with Yeosang’s lips. Soft and stained with a plum color that only barely masks the dry edges on the inside of his bottom lip.

Yeosang’s eyes blink open again and Mingi realizes the track has ended, many seconds passing in silence as he lost himself in the nearness of Yeosang. “Mingi, this is exactly it. Can we use this?”

Mingi smiles, a new kind of flush spreading on his cheeks. Bashful, just because Yeosang likes it that much. It makes him want to hide his face behind his hands like a child. It’s not even that good of a clip, rushed and in need of desperate refining, but Yeosang likes it and the overwhelming sense of pride overcomes Mingi. Swallowed by the rush of joy, he doesn’t even realize that it’s the first piece of music he’s made in almost a year that he doesn’t totally hate.

“No way, this is not up to the caliber for the San-G.” Mingi teases, closing out of the project (clicking “Save” when prompted by the system). “Besides I think it would be better if we try to build something around your lyrics first.”

Mingi peers over his laptop screen to Yeosang, who appears frozen in his seat, only the gentle rise of his chest giving Mingi any kind of sense that he hasn’t malfunctioned. “Do you not have lyrics?”

Yeosang shakes his head, but Mingi still doesn’t understand. “You do have lyrics?” Yeosang nods his head, and clears up some of Mingi’s confusion. “So let’s hear them.”

Yeosang pulls out the earbud, leaning away from Mingi, but his stare grows more intense in the strangest sense. Like he’s trying to fight to say something, but also fighting to hold back whatever it is he’s trying to say.

“I’ve never shared my lyrics with anyone before.” Yeosang blurts out, and Mingi is thankful that the side trying to get the words out won.

“Ever?” Mingi asks, as gently as he can.

“Of all my releases, I’ve probably only contributed 20 words, total. My managers always tell me it’s not the right time, or I should wait until I have more experience.” Yeosang looks down at his hands in his lap again, his hair conveniently hiding his eyes that had started to turn misty as he spoke. “I don’t even know if anything I’ve written is any good.”

A swirl of conflictions stir in Mingi’s chest. Mingi doesn’t want to work for any company that would make someone feel the way Yeosang does, but Mingi can’t walk away from Yeosang now. He simply can’t abandon Yeosang now. If no one else believes in Yeosang, then Mingi will. Even if Yeosang’s lyrics are absolute shit, Mingi will find a way to make them work, just to prove a point to whoever made Yeosang feel so small.

“You’ve been an idol for how long? Now seems like the right time to me. I want to hear your lyrics, Yeosang.” Mingi speaks, direct and clear, hoping some of the confidence he feels in the moment will spread to Yeosang. Yeosang looks up from the curtain of hair he’d been hiding behind, the tears that Mingi thought were about to fall are holding at Yeosang’s lashes.

Yeosang smiles, a meek chuckle bubbling through, his cheeks rounding just enough to let one stray tear cross the threshold of his lashline. “Fine, but if they suck, then-”

“I bet they won’t.” Mingi answers before Yeosang can even question if Mingi means it or not, refusing to let any self-sabotage take over, and he hopes he’s right or else he’ll be in for a tough job ahead.

Yeosang slips a notebook out of the bag on the seat next to him. A small journal, the soft skin cover worn in certain parts and the paper wrinkled at the edges as it’s clearly traveled all over the world with Yeosang. He gently sets the journal down on the table, hand protectively held against the cover. “I’m not sure where to start.”

Mingi thinks for a moment. He wants to hear what Yeosang has written, more desperately than even he realizes, but he doesn’t want to force it out of Yeosang. He’s only here so Yeosang can do what he wants to do. Mingi wants to say the right thing, but he has to be careful. What kind of words would he want to hear if it were the other way around? What would make Mingi open up?

“If this is the only song we get to make-” Mingi pauses, realizing he doesn’t want his presence to influence this, his sharp eyes connecting with Yeosang’s doe-like stare, “If it’s the only song you get to make with total creative freedom, what is most important for you to say?”

Yeosang looks back down to his journal, deep in contemplation, and then suddenly his hands are flying through the wrinkled pages. He’ll stop and look over a few lines before flipping the pages again, and Mingi assumes he’s trying to choose the lyrics that best fit Mingi’s question, but Yeosang stops, whispering a small “aha”. Yeosang flattens the page, and now Mingi can see better the random blurbs splattered across the page, no linear connection between any of them, just thoughts and half sentences spilled out onto the paper.

“It’s not done, or even really arranged into a song structure, but I think about these lyrics. A lot.” Yeosang looks down upon his page, a funny softness to his eyes, like he’s looking down at a descendant of his direct blood line. “To be honest, I put it together more like a poem, but if this is the only song we get, and I don’t think it will be, this is the song I want us to make.”

Yeosang turns the book to Mingi, sliding it across the table gently. Mingi fights the urge to reach out and grab the book and read through every page. His growing curiosity about Yeosang is becoming an insatiable need that he’s constantly at odds with, and it takes all his strength to lean away from the well-loved journal.

“Sing it for me.” Mingi says in his best director voice, despite feeling like he has no authority to tell Yeosang what to do. Yeosang appears stunned at first, apparently unaware that he may be asked to sing during this meeting. “These are your lyrics. Sing something, whatever you think it might sound like.”

Yeosang starts to protest, but immediately pauses, perhaps realizing how silly it would sound for an idol singer who wants to make his own song to fight back on singing his own lyrics. Yeosang pulls the journal towards himself, lifting it up to get a better look at his writings, deciding which ones to start with. Mingi worries that he may have pushed Yeosang too far as he watches Yeosang stare longer and longer at the page. Mingi’s leg starts to shake under the table, a nervous tick as the seconds drag on and he debates saying something to give Yeosang an out, but then Yeosang lifts his fist, covering his mouth as he clears his throat before finally giving into Mingi’s request.

“The frozen season

With torn wings, the day I only barely caught my breath

Nobody knows what I've been inside

The wailing night within the dark

The deepening red scar

It doesn’t matter anymore

No force can break me now”

Yeosang’s voice is low and slow, much lower than he sounded in the songs Mingi listened to earlier this morning. And just like the voice that greeted him when he entered the train cabin, Mingi wonders if this is Yeosang’s natural singing register. The pure, unfiltered Yeosang that few people get to hear, and now Mingi gets to join this exclusive club.

“Too much?” Yeosang asks slinking back in his seat, a defeated smile masking embarrassment, and Mingi regrets whatever it is about his demeanor that would make Yeosang feel like he wasn’t good enough in this moment.

“No, no, Yeosang, that was great.” Mingi enthuses, hoping Yeosang hears how true his words are. “That’s exactly what I was talking about. Keep going.”

Yeosang’s smile fades, tilting his head and an unwarranted incredulous look on his face. Does he not believe Mingi? What lies has he been fed about his talent to think that Mingi wouldn’t be truthful? Or that he can’t recognize his own talent?

“Please?” Mingi begs, not even a little ashamed that he’s been reduced to begging a singer to sing, but Yeosang giggles, seemingly amused at Mingi’s desperation.

Yeosang stammers a bit, looking between Mingi and the page of prose. “I don’t know what comes next.”

“Just pick something, anything else you’ve written on there, anything. We can piece it together.” Mingi answers, imploring Yeosang to continue.

Yeosang’s eyes scan the page, moving fast across the page, and he starts again.

“Rising with the sunrise

One more step

Let it all out, louder

No more praying

It’s the time to rise up”

Mingi smiles, even laughs a little. “Yeosang, this is something. This is more than something. This is a song. All we have to do is put it together and lay it down, and - dude - if I get some piano on this and a heavy bass going in the back? And Hongjoong has this weird machine that can make everything kind of eerie- wait, is that the vibe you’re going for with this? Eerie like a foggy night or something?”

Yeosang, who had already been nodding his head along with Mingi, nods his head even more feverishly. “That’s exactly what I want. You got all that from the lyrics?”

“It’s so obvious. ‘Torn wings’ and ‘no more praying’? Totally gives haunted cathedral vibes.” Mingi starts opening up a new project on his laptop, recognizing the magic that’s starting and he’s unwilling to let it get away.

“And my voice sounded? It sounded okay?” Yeosang asks in a meandering kind of way, never quite finding the end, leaving Mingi dismayed that Yeosang still doesn’t get it.

“Are you joking?” Mingi asks, entirely serious, because of all things Yeosang’s voice was the most impressive. “You sounded great, amazing. And when we get some background vocals and echoing, it’s going to be so spooky, dude. We have to get those lyrics sorted out and get those vocals down, like right now.”

It’s a bit of a blur, between Mingi quickly putting together the travel microphone that Hongjoong let him borrow, building a makeshift studio out of their two jackets, and him and Yeosang tying together all the random ramblings into a song structure. But slowly they begin building melodies so Yeosang knows where to place each of his lines of lyrics and Mingi knows the guidance to give him and it just keeps happening. It’s happening. A song is happening, right before Mingi, and because of Mingi, and Yeosang, too, obviously. And it’s probably better this way, faster than the train racing along with them, because it doesn’t give Mingi a chance to pause and notice how easily this side of himself returned from wherever it was hiding in him. Mingi can hear the song coming together in his head, and he knows what notes and direction to give back to Yeosang so that each take Yeosang gives gets better and better. Mingi doesn’t notice the time passing until a knock on the door interrupts what probably would’ve been Yeosang’s best take so far.

Yeosang pops his head out from under the makeshift jacket studio, greeting Seonghwa who so bravely dared to interrupt them. “The train is arriving at the station shortly. Yeosang, we need you out here to prepare. Mingi, I’ve spoken with the train staff and you’re welcome to stay in the cabin for the return trip.”

Yeosang and Mingi both turn back to each other, and Mingi feels like a kid again who’s been told his parents have come to pick him up from a playdate with his friend. He wants to kick and whine that it’s not fair and attempt to bargain for even just five more minutes, but this isn’t some after school game and Mingi has no claim to Yeosang’s time like that.

“Right. Thank you, Seonghwa.” Yeosang answers, a cough to clear his voice which must be tired from all the takes they’ve done. Seonghwa slips back out of the cabin and Yeosang turns back to Mingi, letting the two jackets slide off him and back onto the seat. “I might have time for one more take, if you think we need it.”

Mingi feels the selfish urge to say yes and make Yeosang sing for him again, but he shakes his head. “I have more than enough to work with. You did great, seriously.”

Yeosang smiles, running his fingers through his hair to manage the way the jackets ruffled his soft, blonde hair. “Can I hear it? All pieced together, or whatever you have so far?”

Mingi panics, momentarily freezing at Yeosang’s request. Like, duh, of course he wants to hear the track that will decide how his album gets made, but Mingi had only put together some very rough backgrounds, placeholders really. Just enough for Yeosang to sing along with, and just until he can get back to the studio and record with some real instruments and mess around with some of Hongjoong’s toys, as he likes to call them.

Mingi un-panics, catching up to real time and snaps his mouse around on the computer, tidying up as much as he can and adding all the elements he had noted in his head for later, hoping that he can give Yeosang some idea of what is going on in Mingi’s head. He avoids Yeosang, who can hear all these quick edits in the other half of Mingi’s earbud, until Mingi decides it’s as good as it’s going to get. Mingi nods to Yeosang, moving the tracker to the start of the song and letting it play.

This is much more agonizing than any of the other stuff Mingi played for Yeosang. This is teetering on the edge of heaven and hell, because if Yeosang hates it then Mingi will be so ashamed that he couldn’t give Yeosang everything he was looking for. But if Yeosang likes it, this could change everything. Mingi tries not to analyze Yeosang’s face, or not too much, because maybe that twitch of the brow was involuntary, or maybe it means he’s totally regretting trusting Mingi.

The song closes out, clumsily, as Mingi has never been very eloquent with ending a track, and he waits. Waiting for Yeosang to cry or smile or scream, just some kind of reaction. And Yeosang laughs.

“I love it.” Yeosang’s giggles chopping up his words. “This is exactly it.”

Mingi laughs too, a tickle of pride that he can’t fight. “This can’t be exactly it, it still needs a lot of work, but let me worry about that.” Mingi adds, saving the file on his laptop and his backup drive, to be extra safe.

“You sure you don’t need anything else from me?” Yeosang offers, still an eager smile on his lips.

Mingi shakes his head. “Not right now. Let me take this to the studio, clean it up, add a whole bunch of stuff that’s going to make it better, and then I might have you come in to do some super clean takes.”

Yeosang’s smile falters, losing its balance in what Mingi found to be an inconsequential comment considering everything else they discussed. “Mingi, there’s something I probably should’ve mentioned earlier.” Mingi stares at Yeosang, maintaining his blank face even though his mind races with the hundreds of things that Yeosang might throw at him. “My company needs a track by tonight.”

“T-tonight?” Mingi clarifies, feeling a bit like a cartoon character with the way he stuttered his words.

“Midnight, to be exact.” Yeosang answers, bringing his fingers to tuck some of his hair behind his ear. “See, it took me a lot longer to get in contact with you than I planned. I had to ask them for an extension and that’s kind of why you had to come on the train because there really was no other time.”

Mingi looks back down to his laptop and the track that suddenly feels totally incomplete. A crushing weight presses into Mingi’s shoulders as he considers how much more work the track needs.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, per se.” Yeosang starts, although his inflection doesn’t make Mingi feel better. “But I know you can do this. I’ve heard your other stuff and you have so much talent. You get what I’m saying and you know what I want.”

The crushing weight on Mingi’s shoulders pushes harder, pressing him further into the now uncomfortable train seat. It was easier when Mingi thought this meeting would end as a non-starter. When he thought Yeosang wouldn’t see anything in him and he’d decide not to use Mingi as a producer. This is a change in the plan, entirely unforeseen and leaving Mingi feeling guilty. Can he be trusted with this kind of task? Does he really deserve Yeosang’s trust?

All at once, Mingi decides he should be. Not because he thinks his skills are otherworldly or because he completely understands Yeosang’s vision, but because he doesn’t trust anyone else to do this for Yeosang. With Yeosang. And most of all, he hates the idea that if he doesn’t do it, then there’s a very likely chance that Yeosang’s lyrics will continue to remain hidden in that journal.

“I’ll get you something by tonight.” Mingi confirms, speaking it into existence and backing himself into a corner, leaving himself no escape route. The mounting pressure feels worth it just to see Yeosang’s small grin spread to an eager smile.

A knock comes from the cabin door, and they both turn to catch Seonghwa poking his head in, again. Yeosang nods, knowing his time is up. He plucks the other end of Mingi’s earbud out of his ear, gently handing it back to Mingi and he begins to pack up.

“Thank you, really.” Yeosang starts, shushing Mingi’s refusal of the gratitude before the track is even done or accepted by Yeosang’s company. “This is something I’ve always wanted for myself and it felt like it was getting further and further from me. You’ve made it seem so real again.”

Yeosang rises from the bench, bringing his jacket up and over his shoulders, and smoothing out the front as he approaches the cabin door. He pauses, turning back to Mingi one last time. “I know you’ll make it perfect. I trust you.”

✕

It wasn’t easy for Mingi. The train ride back felt three times longer than the train ride there, possibly because he didn’t have Yeosang with him, but he instead chooses to think it’s because he can’t wait to get back to the studio. He does all he can with the vocals and track on the train, but he gets to a point where he needs his guitar and he needs his drums and he needs his bass. He needs all those raw and live sounds that he can only get from his instruments because he knows that’s what Yeosang wants. He thinks. The more time he spends away from Yeosang, the more he begins to doubt his understanding. What if he doesn’t get it perfect? What if Yeosang can’t trust him?

He outruns those feelings though when the train pulls into the Seoul station. Mingi is one of the first passengers off and keeps a quick pace to return to his studio, brushing past Hongjoong in the lobby of their building and locking himself away at his music station. Mingi lets the melodies and harmonies he builds to amplify Yeosang’s voice quiet the distracting thoughts floating around in his mind.

Isn’t it weird to be making music again? To hear something in your head again? To have it sound just as good out in the real world as it does in your head?

Why should the renowned music producer Mingi give into a company’s unrealistic timeline for their most successful artist?

It’s kind of nice that this jacket smells like Yeosang now.

Mingi pushes on, making sure to get the best takes for the song with his instruments, holding himself to a higher than usual standard to match Yeosang’s efforts. Once he’s happy, Mingi then settles into his chair, letting the real magic happen as he puts all the instruments together and lets his different machines change everything into something unique, something that no one else will be able to recreate. He brings out machines he hasn’t touched in months, knowing they can do exactly what he needs them to do. Creating swells and interesting echoes that weren’t there before, but when pulled together and brought in at the right moments makes the sound just right. Makes Yeosang’s lyrics pop and flow in ways that compel Mingi to push on.

Of all the pieces Mingi modifies and tweaks, he never touches Yeosang’s voice, at least not entirely. He’ll create layers and echoes to give that haunted woods vibe that he and Yeosang spoke about, but there’s always a prominent clean take of Yeosang singing above all the other noise. Because at the base of it all, Mingi is just making noise and Yeosang’s voice is the thread that ties it all together.

It’s hours like this, a sprint that Mingi won’t let himself find reprieve from, not until the mix is perfect. Everytime he thinks he may be close to done, he pushes himself harder, knowing that he’s only got one shot. One shot to impress Yeosang’s company, and more importantly, Yeosang. Mingi’s eyes flit at the time in the clock on the wall next to him, just now realizing that he’s pushed himself to 10PM, and cutting it much closer to Yeosang’s deadline than he intended.

Mingi makes his final touches, cutting himself off with just enough time to export the track. He has a brief moment of panic as he realizes he never figured out where to send the track, but when he opens his email inbox he finds a new message at the top from Seonghwa with instructions on how to send the file through an encrypted mail system (again to keep matters involving San-G safe from any low level hacker).

Mingi tries to think of a message to go with his work. He starts to explain everything he did, but it quickly becomes too wordy and hard to describe. He deletes his message, turning to something more stern about how his work shouldn’t be rushed like this on future tracks, but he decides against it, not wanting his unwarranted scolding to make Yeosang’s company change their mind. Instead he keeps it simple.

I hope Yeosang likes it.

Mingi hits send and leans back in his chair, not in any kind of relaxing manner, but just to create some distance between him and the computer. The sensation in his body feels abnormal, like he’s being suspended by a thin wire that he’s praying won’t be snipped by the powers that be. A mix of anxiety and… excitement? That doesn’t seem right to Mingi because he hasn’t felt excited about music for a long time, but the jitter in his fingers feels familiar and he can’t deny that this project has brought the feeling back. Yeosang has brought the feeling back.

Mingi leans forward again in his chair, pulling himself up to the computer again and opens Instagram in his web browser. Mingi’s not on his profile often anyway, but a social media presence is almost a requirement of the industry nowadays so Mingi maintains a small, private profile. He doesn’t normally access the site through his computer, so he’s not even logged in and decides to keep it that way because he would like to keep tonight’s activity off his regular account.

Mingi pulls up the search feature on the app and only has to type “sa” before the app suggests Yeosang’s profile. While Mingi has a significant follower count on his own account, San-G’s 42.7 million followers makes it seem insignificant by comparison. Mingi scrolls through the page, which is mostly filled with brand posts or extremely tailored “candid” posts that subtly promote some project Yeosang was tied to. The first post is for a drama that Yeosang had a cameo on as he also sang the intro song that gained its own following outside of the show. Yeosang looks nice, but not like he did on the train today. He looks polished and handsome and uncrackable, and as Mingi scrolls through the profile he can see how few people would know that Yeosang is unhappy with his music. These photos paint out a much different life that Yeosang lives as San-G. This is the idol that is never told no and always gets his way. He would never have to barter to make the music he wants or put together vocals during a train ride in between other activities that are deemed more important.

Logically, Mingi should understand that adults often have to live with choices and actions that are in direct opposition of each other (Yeosang hates doing brand ambassadorships, but he’s under contract to do them and look happy doing it), but all Mingi can think as he scrolls between the posts is that he completely misunderstood Yeosang’s intentions with the song. Maybe he didn’t want eerie and ominous, but something lighter and ultimately a more positive message. Maybe he actually wanted something that matches this San-G’s idol image, something softer around the edges.

Too late now, he supposes (after he checks to see if he can undo sending the email). If Yeosang hates it, at least Mingi likes the final product. Evidence that today really happened and that he can still make music, with the right inspiration. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to do it again, but maybe if he gets desperate he can come back to the raw vocal tracks that are saved and backed up on his devices.

Mingi continues scrolling Yeosang’s photos, frustratingly only being able to look at a few at a time without logging in, but he refuses to risk liking a post from months ago. So he just stares at the little grid of Yeosang, including a photo from the night they met, and a strange feeling pools in Mingi’s groin. Something he probably shouldn’t be feeling and definitely things he shouldn’t be thinking about a client. Mingi folds himself over, leaning his arms against his desk and hopes that the change of position will shoo away these “wrong” feelings. And it works, kind of, because now that Mingi’s body finally has a chance to just stop for a moment, it finally catches up to the fact that Mingi has been awake for much longer than he has been in the last few months. His eyelids blink, slower and slower, until Mingi drifts off into an easy sleep state, his subconscious still careful not to touch his mouse or keyboard, lest it move the screen away from his view of Yeosang.

Just as soon as Mingi fell asleep, he is awakened. His computer screen dark, the display having turned off at some point during his sleep. There’s a buzzing in his pocket and Mingi pulls out the culprit, his phone. It’s low on battery, not having been charged for a number of hours, but it’s got enough for a phone call. Mingi isn’t usually one to answer an unknown call, but the caller is lucky to have caught Mingi still in half-asleep state. Mingi’s body takes over, bringing the phone to his ears before his brain can tell him to throw the phone on the other side of the room.

“Mingi?” Mingi grunts in answer to Seonghwa’s question. “Yeosang wants to speak to you. Please hold.”

Mingi straightens at this, a wash of delight clearing out sleepiness in Mingi’s voice.

“Mingi?” And this time Mingi hums more pleasantly when Yeosang asks it. “I couldn’t stop listening to the song all night and I had to call you right away.”

The negative self-talk starts to return in the silence between Yeosang’s words, but when a funny cough sound comes from Yeosang’s side Mingi pauses his inner thoughts.

“It’s perfect. I can’t believe you did it - I mean, I can - but you did it so fast and it’s still everything I wanted.” Yeosang continues with his endless praises for what Mingi did to bring his lyrics to life, but the more he speaks the more Mingi is distracted by the very obvious fact that Yeosang is crying. Pushing through his tears to continue his adoration for Mingi’s work. Unlike the tears that fell during their train ride, these are happy tears. Mingi doesn’t have to be an expert in Yeosang’s voice to recognize the pure joy in Yeosang’s words. It’s uncomfortable for Mingi, but in the most agreeable way, knowing that he brought Yeosang to this feeling.

Yeosang eventually slows his words, filled in with some “yeah’s”, clearly waiting for Mingi to say something.

“That means a lot coming from you, Yeosang. There’s more I wanted to do with it, but I was working with a pretty tight deadline.” Mingi says, somewhat joking, but his tone remains flat.

Yeosang hums, understanding the underlying frustration of Mingi’s comment. “That’s the thing. My management listened and they were surprised you could get something like this back so fast.”

Mingi pauses, bracing himself for the worst. “Did they like it?”

“I don’t know, they didn’t say.” Yeosang laughs, but it’s too hollow to make Mingi think Yeosang is actually amused by his own comment. “But they like how quickly you work.”

Mingi pauses, again, scared to let himself jump to the conclusion that Yeosang is leading to. “Does that mean?” Mingi finally asks.

“They said okay. You’re producing my album.” Yeosang’s laugh is full of life this time, and Mingi laughs with him. Twenty-four hours ago, Mingi was hoping for any other outcome than this, and now he’s overjoyed. Hungry to get back with Yeosang and hear more of what’s in that notebook and how it sounds coming out of Yeosang’s pretty lips.

“Next time let’s meet in the studio.” Mingi says, his illogical brain deciding to take this wonderful moment and turn it around into a moment to litigate his demands. “Do this the proper way. I can show you how it all works.”

It’s silent for a long time. Mingi starts to beat himself up for bringing it up now, as he was celebrating with Yeosang. He should’ve just taken the compliments and waited for Yeosang’s company to send the contract and negotiate it then. But he doesn’t care if Yeosang’s company understands why Yeosang needs to come to the studio. He wants Yeosang here because he wants to show Yeosang all the different sounds and mixes they can create. He wants to teach Yeosang how to make a song so he’s not beholden to Mingi or whatever producer his company throws him in with in the future if it’s not Mingi. He wants Yeosang here because he’s just not sure if this song was a fluke or if there’s something about Yeosang that brings something back to life in Mingi. And he’s almost worried that his wants might be needs because he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to do it again without Yeosang.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Yeosang finally answers. Mingi’s not sure what it is about the way Yeosang said it, but he knows Yeosang means it.

There’s a small sound in the distance and Yeosang abruptly clears his throat. “I have to go now, but thank you. This is everything to me.” Mingi smiles, a flush rising in his cheeks thinking about Yeosang smiling on the other end of the phone.

“I knew I could trust you, Mingi.”

Notes:

bluesky fic link if you feel compelled to share

hey! you came back! and I’m so glad you did! I’m really excited about this story and even more excited to share! the comments and kudos on the first chapter are wonderful and lovely and so appreciated. I hope this update was worth the wait >.<

as I worked on this chapter I realized that I wanted to add some angstier undertones and explore some more explicit themes so please mind the tags and rating as more updates come. speaking of updates, I don’t have an exact schedule, but I’m hoping to post updates once a month. if I don’t have something in January please yell at me on social media :)

all credit for the translation of Legacy should go to this lyric translation of Legacy that I pulled from twitter <33

also big props to the yeosang fest team and all the writers that contributed <3 I highly recommend you check out some of the other works posted in the collection <333