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alistorz · 15 hours ago

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FRAGMENT OF US

(Aespa x Male Reader Fanfiction)

Chapter 3 - Beneath The Surface

20841 words

~“Some days don’t hurt loudly—they just weigh more.”~ ---------------------------------------------------

The conference room was stark and sterile, illuminated by the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. The only sound was the clicking of pens and the rustling of papers as the panel of interviewers sat around the polished glass table, flipping through resume after resume. Most of the faces were familiar to each other — higher-ups in the company who had done this countless times before.

The head of the panel, a middle-aged man with a short-cropped beard, adjusted his glasses as he read through one particular resume.

"Another one with zero experience," he muttered, his tone flat and unimpressed.

"Not even a manager position anywhere," another voice piped up, a young woman in her early thirties, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "These candidates are all the same. They all have a little internship here, a bit of event coordination there. But... nothing special."

"I know, right?" The middle-aged man sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Honestly, I don’t even know why we’re still interviewing these guys. They all blend together. No one stands out."

"Except for one." The young woman looked up, a slight frown forming on her face. She slid a single resume from the pile, setting it down with a soft thud in front of the head of the panel.

The others exchanged curious glances as the middle-aged man picked up the resume she’d pointed to. He scanned it quickly.

"This one?" He raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "Are you sure about this? He seems... different, but I'm not sure how."

"He’s the one who answered the questions differently," the young woman replied, her voice almost a little hesitant. "He was more thoughtful. Took the time to think things through before responding. And his demeanor... it's like he understands the expectations here — a little more than the rest, I think."

"His background isn't impressive, though," another interviewer commented, flipping through his resume. "Not a lot to go on. It’s mostly... just school work."

The head of the panel grunted in agreement. "But maybe that’s what we need, isn’t it? Someone who hasn’t had too much experience, but can follow instructions and pick things up quickly."

"He’s obedient, at least," the young woman added, her fingers tapping lightly on the table. "He listens, doesn't rush to interrupt, and seems willing to learn. That’s something we haven’t seen much of with the others."

The panel paused for a moment, all eyes on the resume in the middle of the table. The silence stretched on for a few seconds as the others thought it over.

Finally, the head of the panel shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Alright. He’s not perfect, but let’s move forward with him. We can train him. Maybe he’s not the flashy type, but sometimes that’s a good thing. His simplicity might just work for this department."

The others nodded in agreement, one or two reluctant, but they all knew the decision was final.

"Let’s see how he does," the middle-aged man said, settling back into his chair and placing the resume back on the pile. "He's starting soon, right?"

"Yeah, he's starting soon," the young woman replied, gathering up the remaining resumes. "I’ll let the others know."

—----------------------------------------

The morning air was brisk, heavy with the lingering chill of dawn. Y/N stood in front of the towering glass building, the familiar tightness pulling in his chest. In his right hand, slightly crumpled from nervous fingers, was a piece of paper — a printed screenshot of an email. The ink was starting to smudge near the edges, but the important part remained: his name and the simple words welcoming him to the Managerial Department of SM Entertainment.

He exhaled slowly, watching his breath mist up in front of him. His old phone, battered and waterlogged from the accident days ago, was now little more than a dead weight in his pocket. It didn't matter — he had gotten used to living without it. Today was more important.

Adjusting the strap of his worn-out bag, he moved forward, the automatic doors sliding open with a muted hiss.

The lobby inside was sleek and almost intimidatingly modern. Bright lighting reflected off spotless marble floors. Employees in pressed shirts and polished shoes moved swiftly from place to place, speaking in hushed tones or typing away on their devices. No one spared him a second glance. No one slowed down.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, standing awkwardly by the entrance, before spotting the reception desk stationed neatly at the center. Taking a deep breath, he made his way over.

"Good morning," he said, his voice a little too soft. "I'm... uh, Y/N. Today’s my first day in the Managerial Department."

The receptionist barely looked up from her monitor. "Name?" she asked briskly.

He repeated it, holding out the printout in case she needed proof. With a few quick taps on her keyboard, she nodded without a smile and picked up the receiver of the desk phone.

"Please wait," she said flatly, before dialing an internal line.

Y/N stepped aside, feeling even more out of place as people flowed around him like he was invisible. His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag.

It's fine. Just stay calm. You’ve made it this far.

The women on the counter spoke briefly before hanging up. "Please wait for a moment, someone will be right with you."

Y/N nodded and stood quietly by the counter, feeling the weight of the silence settle around him. A few minutes passed, and a staff member walked over with a welcoming smile.

"Y/N, right? I’ll be taking you to the head of the department," the staff member said. "Follow me."

Y/N followed the woman through the modern, pristine hallways, each step echoing as they passed glass-walled offices and busy employees typing away at their desks. Everything was sleek, professional, yet almost too pristine, making Y/N feel out of place in his slightly worn-out shoes and the crumpled phone in his pocket.

They arrived at a large, corner office with a view of the city, and the woman knocked lightly on the door. "Ms. Seo, your new manager is here."

The staff opened the door carefully, then stepped aside. Inside, a woman in her early forties sat behind a sleek desk, her posture straight, her expression unreadable. Her sharp eyes lifted from the document in front of her, and though she radiated authority, there was no trace of warmth in her gaze.

"Y/N, is it?" Ms. Seo asked, not even standing up from her chair. "Come in. Please sit down and we will get things settled quickly."

The soft click of the office door shutting behind him echoed louder than expected. Y/N stood still for a moment, hands at his sides, as he took in the sleek, minimalist interior of the room. The windows were half-shaded, and the desk at the center was pristine, barely cluttered except for a few neatly arranged folders and a glowing monitor. Behind it sat a woman in her early forties, sharp-eyed and impeccably dressed in a dark blouse and muted gray slacks.

“Sit down, Mr. Y/N. I don’t need another statue standing around my office,” she said flatly, eyes not leaving her screen.

Y/N got out of his little distraction and obeyed, settling into the chair across from her. The leather was stiff beneath him. His heart thumped in his chest like it didn’t know how to keep pace with his breath.

The woman finally looked up, clasping her hands together on the desk. “I’m Director Seo Ji-eun. Head of Artist Management and Planning.” Her voice was clipped, efficient. “Congratulations, you’ve been selected.”

It didn’t sound like a celebration. Just a statement of fact.

“Thank you,” Y/N replied, forcing his voice steady.

Director Seo didn’t waste a second. “Do you know why you were chosen?”

Y/N blinked. His lips parted, but no words came out. Slowly, he shook his head.

She gave a short exhale through her nose. “Because the rest were all the same.”

She opened a folder and tapped on the stack of printed résumés inside. “Same answers. Same tone. Same desperation to name-drop artists or claim they’re ‘passionate about K-pop.’ But no real understanding of what this job entails. Most of them just wanted a chance to get close to idols.” Her gaze flicked back up to him. “That’s not what we need.”

Y/N stayed quiet, absorbing every word like a cold wind to the face.

“You… were different,” she continued. “Unrefined. Clearly inexperienced. But calm. Attentive. And you didn’t pretend to know what you didn’t. You listened. That might be useful — if it holds.”

Y/N nodded slowly, unsure if that was meant to be praise or a warning.

Director Seo moved on quickly. She reached for a document and slid it across the desk. “Here’s your initial compensation for the probation period. Standard for new managerial trainees.”

Y/N leaned forward, eyes scanning the numbers. His brows knit almost instantly. It wasn’t awful… but it wasn’t great either.

As the total began looping in his head, he started mentally breaking it down: living expenses, travel costs, and — more urgently — his father's surgery. A knot formed in his gut.

“You don’t like the number?” Director Seo asked suddenly, her tone unreadable.

Y/N jerked slightly, startled out of his math spiral. “Ah, no. It’s fine,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I wasn’t expecting anything, to be honest.”

He lowered his eyes and mentally scolded himself. Not now. Focus. It’s something. It’s a start.

She didn’t press further. “You’ll be undergoing a three-month probation. Normally it’s six. But given our current staffing issues, we’ve shortened it. At the end of that period, we’ll decide whether you’ll be offered a permanent position — either as an assistant manager, a main, or not at all.”

Y/N swallowed hard.

She leaned slightly forward. “That means I expect you to adapt quickly. Mistakes will happen, but repeated weak performance won’t be tolerated. You’ll be working under tight schedules and even tighter scrutiny.”

Another nod. He was starting to feel the weight of this seat more and more.

Director Seo was about to continue when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

A moment later, the door opened, and a woman stepped inside. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties, with soft waves of chestnut brown hair and a neat, professional appearance. Her eyes brightened slightly when they landed on Y/N — a flicker of recognition.

Y/N stood quickly and bowed. She returned the gesture with a warm, if brief, smile.

“This is Kim Harin,” Director Seo said. “One of our more senior staff managers. She’ll be your direct supervisor for the duration of your probation. Think of her as your lead — and your evaluator.”

Harin turned to Y/N and extended a hand. “Nice to officially meet you.”

He shook it. Her grip was firm, but her tone carried a touch of kindness he hadn’t felt since stepping into the building.

“Try not to give me a reason to write bad reports,” she added, lightening the mood slightly. He gave a small, grateful smile.

Director Seo stood, signaling the end of the meeting. “You’ll start by shadowing her. Learn quickly. Stay out of the way until you don’t have to. Dismissed.”

Y/N bowed once again before following Harin out of the office.

The soft clack of Harin’s heels echoed through the marble hallway as she led the way, her ID lanyard swinging lightly at her side. Y/N followed just a step behind, clutching the thin folder handed to him earlier by the Head of Department—his hands slightly clammy, his nerves still simmering from the stern briefing.

“This way,” Harin said, glancing over her shoulder with a polite smile. Her tone was casual, but there was something efficient in her stride. “I’ll show you around so you don’t get swallowed whole on your first day.”

The interior of SM Entertainment's headquarters was sleek—almost intimidating. Glass walls, clean white corridors, the occasional framed photo of artists mid-performance or on album covers. It felt less like a workplace and more like a curated monument to perfection.

“Pretty clean, huh?” Harin remarked, raising an eyebrow. “They like it sterile-looking here. Makes everything feel controlled, even if it isn’t.”

Y/N let out a soft, polite chuckle. He wasn’t sure if it was a joke or a quiet complaint.

They passed several open workspaces—rows of desks cluttered with papers, half-empty iced coffees, and glowing monitors. Some staff greeted Harin with a quick nod or a smile, which she returned with casual familiarity. Others barely looked up, engrossed in their screens.

“This is the media team. They handle teasers, MVs, all the flashy stuff,” Harin said, motioning toward the rows. “You’ll probably work with them now and then, especially when it comes to coordination for content shoots.”

Y/N nodded, trying to take everything in. His eyes scanned the room—a few heads turned to look at him. Not unfriendly, but curious. Some expressions were unreadable, guarded. One woman in the back gave a glance, then quickly whispered something to a colleague beside her, who glanced too.

He felt a subtle tightening in his chest.

“Don’t worry about that,” Harin said without looking back. She must’ve noticed. “They do that with everyone new. It’s not personal. Just... how it is.”

They moved on.

She showed him the conference rooms, the artist rest lounges, and the tightly secured recording booths. Occasionally, a trainee passed by, bowing quickly before disappearing around a corner. Y/N kept noticing how fast everything moved—people walking with purpose, talking in clipped, efficient tones.

It was nothing like the slow rhythm of his university dorm. Or home.

When they turned a corner near the back corridor, Harin slowed down.

“Alright,” she said, stopping in front of a nondescript frosted-glass door. “This is the main artist department. Most managers work from here when they’re not out.”

She slid the door open, revealing a somewhat cramped office space with desks pushed close together. A few staff members glanced up. One man gave a look. Another woman barely acknowledged them and continued typing furiously.

“Your desk will be over there,” Harin gestured to a small corner spot near the back. “It’s nothing fancy, but it has what you need. Printer’s busted though. You’ll have to borrow mine for now.”

Y/N gave a small bow in gratitude, though no one was watching.

Eventually, she led him to a wide hallway with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the street below. Sunlight flooded in, softening the otherwise sterile atmosphere of the building.

She stopped in front of a side door with a small sign: Vehicle Access – Staff Only.

“Alright,” she said, pulling out a keycard. “That’s enough orientation for now.”

Y/N looked at her, confused. “That’s it?”

“You’ll learn the rest by working. Tour’s over—for now. We need to check something important.”

She pushed open the door, revealing a concrete ramp leading into the underground parking lot. Rows of white and black vans lined the walls, each marked with the company’s logo.

“We’re testing your driving next,” she said, motioning to one of the company vans. “We don’t put anyone behind the wheel unless we know they can handle it.”

“Right,” he replied, straightening his posture as they made their way toward the vehicle.

“Just a quick run around the block,” she added, stepping toward the passenger side. “Simple stuff. Turning, merging, parking. Nothing fancy.”

“You have a license, yeah?” Harin asked casually as she unlocked the doors.

“Yes. International Driving License. I got it before I transferred here.” he said, holding up the printed document from his folder since he couldn’t show it on a phone.

“Good. Then get in,” she said, sliding into the passenger seat.

Y/N settled into the driver’s seat, adjusted the mirrors and seat position, then took a deep breath. His hands gripped the wheel with a little more tension than necessary.

“Don’t worry,” Harin said, glancing at him. “This isn’t an exam. I just need to see if you can handle a van. You’ll be driving idols around. No pressure, right?”

Y/N gave a stiff chuckle and started the engine.

They eased out of the parking lot and onto the quieter side roads near the company building. Harin gave him a few simple directions to test his handling—turns, merging, parking. As the van rolled along, a short silence fell between them, only the hum of the engine and occasional indicators filling the space.

…

After a moment of turning right and left, Harin leaned back in her seat and said, “So, you probably noticed... things are kind of a mess right now.”

Y/N glanced at her, then back to the road. “You mean... the management team?”

“Yeah,” she said, arms folding. “Most of the experienced staff left. HYBE snatched a bunch of them with better pay and more support. The rest? Burned out, gave up, or just disappeared.”

Y/N nodded slowly, staying focused on the road.

“And the replacements?” She scoffed. “We’ve got people who just want to brag about being close to idols, others who are so lazy they can’t even get a van cleaned, and some who need a checklist for every basic task. Teaching a baby A to Z then teaching this kind of worker. No initiative. No instinct at all. Head straighter than a ruler.”

She paused, watching Y/N’s expression closely.

“The worst part is that higher-ups aren’t doing anything meaningful about it. They just keep hiring new people and hope one of them magically works out. Scheduling a mess. Sometimes the girls don’t even know what they’re doing until the day of. It’s chaos.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened slightly. He kept his eyes on the road but his grip on the wheel subtly shifted.

“You’ll see it soon enough,” she added. “You’re not walking into a well-oiled machine. You're walking into a tired, overworked system being held together by tape.”

She didn’t mean to say it all out loud—Y/N could tell by the way she exhaled after, like the words had slipped through a crack in her restraint. A small, frustrated sigh followed.

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head quickly. “You don’t need to hear all this on your first day.”

Y/N blinked, unsure at first what to say. He gave a small nod, then managed a quiet, “It’s fine.”

His voice was calm, if a little uncertain. “You’ve probably had to deal with way bigger problems than me just sitting here listening.”

That got a small smile from her. Not quite relief, but something softer—like she appreciated that he didn’t shrink away from the weight of it.

“Maybe,” she said. “But you’re still here. That counts for something.”

Another moment passed before Y/N quietly asked, “So… Do you know which group I’ll be assigned to?”

Harin nodded, her expression unreadable. “Aespa.”

Y/N blinked. “I’m sorry… who?”

Harin turned to look at him, surprised. “You don’t know them?”

He gave an awkward smile, eyes still on the road. “I… only know some older groups. BigBang, Girls’ Generation… stuff from back then. I used to sneak into a music shop near my town when I was a kid. That’s all I really knew.”

“Wait—so you don’t know anything about current K-pop?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

He shook his head honestly. “Didn’t even know it was still a big thing. My life’s been… kinda far from this world.”

There was a pause before Harin gave a small breath of disbelief. “Well. That’s rare. Most people are desperate to get this job because they’re fans.”

“I’m not here to be a fan,” Y/N said quietly. “I’m here because I need to do well.”

Harin studied him for a moment longer. There was no arrogance in his tone—only sincerity. She looked back out the window, her voice softening just a little.

As they waited at a red light, Y/N glanced briefly toward Harin, then back to the road. The silence in the van had settled comfortably, but the weight in his chest hadn’t left.

He cleared his throat. “Can I ask… what are they like?”

Harin looked at him, one brow slightly raised.

“The girls,” he added quickly. “What’s it like working with them?”

She seemed to consider the question for a moment, her gaze drifting toward the window.

“They’re… good people,” she said finally, her tone quieter now. “Been with them since their debut. Out of everyone I’ve worked with in this industry, they’re some of the most genuine I’ve met.”

Y/N’s grip on the steering wheel eased a little. He didn’t interrupt.

“They’re professional. Polite. Sharp when they need to be. But that’s not attitude—it’s survival. They’ve learned how to draw lines, how to protect themselves in a world that doesn't always treat idols like people.”

There was a trace of something in her voice. Respect, definitely. But also understanding.

“They’re not the type to fake kindness just to look good. If they like you, they’ll show it. If they don’t, they’ll still be respectful—but distant. It’s not arrogance—it’s caution.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “So… they’re not difficult?”

“No,” Harin said firmly. “They’re not difficult. Just tired. Just be careful. This job burns through people—fans, staff, even idols. But those four? They’ve held on to something real. That’s rare.”

Y/N kept his eyes on the road, but he felt something in him settle at her words. The anxiety was still there, but it wasn’t aimless anymore—it had a shape, like armor he could learn to wear.

“They’ll give you what you give them,” Harin added. “Respect, effort, honesty. You start with that, and you’ll be fine.”

She then turned slightly toward him. “You’re nervous.”

He smiled awkwardly. “Is it that obvious?”

“A little,” she said with a small grin. “But it makes sense. You’ve got a lot to learn. And not a lot of time.”

“I just don’t want to mess this up.”

Harin leaned back in her seat again. “You won’t. As long as you commit and stick with me, I’ll help you.”

Y/N turned to glance at her for a moment before looking back at the road. “Thank you.”

“I mean it,” she added. “You help me, I help you. We pull each other through. That’s the only way to survive in this department.”

There was something in her voice—not softness, not sympathy—but quiet resolve. Y/N couldn’t explain it, but he felt it too. A silent agreement forming between them. Not friendship. Not trust. Not yet. But a kind of shared understanding.

—------------------------------

As the van approached the familiar parking lot of SM Entertainment, the sun was already starting to lower behind the tall buildings. The company exterior looked the same as when they left that morning, but something felt different now—heavier, more final.

Harin glanced sideways from the passenger seat, one leg casually crossed over the other. “You survived the driving test,” she said with a smirk. “That’s already more than some of the trainees can say.”

Y/N gave a dry chuckle, still gripping the steering wheel even though they were already parked. He couldn’t tell if the weight in his chest was from the drive or from what came next.

As he turned off the ignition, Harin unbuckled her seatbelt and stretched. “Alright,” she said, voice a touch softer now. “Next comes the part some of the past staff used to call ‘the best part.”

Y/N looked over. “The best part?”

She looked out toward the company entrance, her gaze focused somewhere distant. “Meeting them. The girls.”

He swallowed—half nerves, half anticipation.

“They can be intimidating at first,” she added, her voice lowering. “But don’t let that shake you. Just remember what I told you earlier. Be honest. Be respectful. And try not to look like you’re about to faint.”

“I’ll do my best,” Y/N muttered under his breath, stepping out of the car.

Inside the building, the air was different. Busier. Tighter. Every corner buzzed with muted conversation, with the low rhythm of music coming from behind closed doors, with hurried footsteps of staff running errands.

As they moved through the hallway, Y/N could feel it—people staring. Whispers followed them like shadows.

“Is that the new manager?”

“Looks too young. Probably just want to be with the girls.”

“Foreign?”

He tried not to react, keeping his gaze forward and glued to Harin’s back. She didn’t seem bothered by the attention, walking with quiet confidence through the maze of corridors. But he caught one staff member casually passing them, someone holding a tablet and a takeout coffee, who stopped just briefly to greet Harin.

“This the new guy?” the man asked, flicking his eyes toward Y/N.

Harin gave a small nod. “Yep. First day.”

The man gave a quiet whistle and turned to Y/N, clapping a hand lightly on his shoulder as he walked past. “Good luck, man. It’s either you stay for the girls or you quit after your first day. No in-between.”

Y/N blinked in confusion, but the man was already gone.

“What was that supposed to mean?” he asked Harin.

She just smiled, and Y/N were asked to just ignore the comment.

A few steps later, something glinting on the floor caught his eye. Right beside the hallway baseboard, a small, silver object lay unnoticed. He slowed down and knelt to pick it up—an earring, delicate and detailed, and clearly expensive. He turned it between his fingers. There was a small, almost invisible engraving on the back.

Harin noticed him lagging behind and turned. “Something wrong?”

He held it up. “Found this just now. Seems... valuable?”

Harin leaned forward to glance at it. “Hmm. We’ll ask the girls if it’s one of theirs.”

They stopped outside a studio door marked Practice Room 3B. Muffled bass pulsed faintly from within, followed by the cadence of light footsteps and idle conversation.

Y/N stood still for a moment, pulse quickening.

This was it.

After weeks of struggling, nights spent scouring job boards, waking up before dawn to chase possibilities that led nowhere—this was the moment he had been building toward. He could still remember the desperation in his bones, the way his heart had sunk when he almost gave up. But now, just a thin door separated him from the very people he'd be responsible for.

Harin rested her hand on the knob and glanced at him. “Ready?”

No. Not even close.

But he nodded anyway.

The door creaked open.

The music stopped almost instantly. Four girls were scattered across the room—one sitting by the wall stretching, two fixing their ponytails, another sipping water near the mirror. None of them looked up right away, caught in the rhythm of their routine.

“Hey,” Harin called out casually, stepping into the room. “I brought someone with me.”

The one by the mirror—Ningning—was the first to glance up. Her gaze fell on Y/N. She blinked, then called out, “Unnie, there’s someone new here.”

That single sentence shifted the entire room.

The others turned, their movements slowing as their eyes landed on him—curious, quiet, guarded. Y/N straightened instinctively, heart pounding. This was Aespa. The global phenomenon. SM’s rising pillars. And somehow, by a strange turn of fate, they were now his responsibility.

The four girls moved together in a loose line, facing him and Harin. He swallowed.

“Girls, this is Y/N,” Harin said. “He’s our new probationary manager. He’ll be working closely with me—and that means spending a lot of time with you all.”

There was a moment of pause. No smiles. No greetings. Just silence and unreadable expressions.

Y/N stepped forward and bowed. “Uh... hello. I’m Y/N. I just started today. I’m new to all of this, so I’ll probably make mistakes. But I’ll do my best. Please treat me well.”

He lifted his head slowly, feeling the weight of their silence press down on him.

And then—Ningning smiled.

“Are you a foreigner?” she asked, voice light and curious.

“Uh… yes,” he replied.

Ningning turned to the others. “Told you he sounded different! You’re the first foreigner manager I’ve seen here.”

The tension cracked, just slightly. A breath of warmth slipped in. The others didn’t say anything yet, but something shifted—a softening in their shoulders, a flicker of amusement in their eyes.

Then Y/N remembered. “Oh—before I forget.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the earring.

“Does this belong to any of you?”

The room stilled.

Karina’s gaze snapped to it instantly. She took a sharp breath, eyes wide.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. She stepped forward quickly, her reaction unguarded. “Where did you find this?”

“In the hallway. Just a few minutes ago.”

She took the earring delicately, as if it were made of glass. “I’ve been looking for this since morning—I thought I lost it forever.”

Then, without thinking, she reached forward and clasped both of Y/N’s hands.

“Thank you,” she said earnestly, her voice low but full. “Really. You have no idea how important this was to me.”

Y/N froze. Not because of the touch, but because of the sincerity. For a split second, everything else faded—the company, the nerves, the pressure—and he saw just a girl, thankful and surprised.

Karina suddenly blinked and let go, flustered. “Ah—sorry! That was… kind of dramatic.”

Ningning giggled. “That was dramatic.”

Even Giselle chuckled, and Winter’s lips curved faintly upward.

Harin stepped in again. “Alright, let’s introduce ourselves properly.”

“I’m Giselle,” the one with sharp features said with a polite nod.

“Ningning,” said the youngest, still grinning.

Karina hesitated, then gave a softer smile. “I’m Karina. And thanks again.”

Winter was last. “Winter,” she said, quiet but not cold.

Y/N nodded at each name, silently repeating them to himself.

And in the back of his mind, a thought clicked into place.

Okay… this is it. These four girls. This is where I start. This is where everything changes. Don’t mess this up, Y/N.

—----

As they stepped out of the practice room, Y/N followed a step behind Harin, his mind still processing the surreal moment of meeting Aespa in person. He could still feel Karina's hands briefly clutching his. The moment had barely passed, but reality was already rushing back in.

Harin glanced over her shoulder. “You’re a student, right?” she asked suddenly, her voice calm but with a shift in tone—more grounded, more serious.

Y/N blinked, a little caught off guard. “Yeah. I just finished my first semester.”

She nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. “Hmm.”

They kept walking. But something about her silence made the hallway feel longer than it really was.

After a few seconds, Harin added, without looking at him, “We’ll talk about that later. But I’ll just say this now—this job isn’t something you can just squeeze into your schedule. It’s demanding. In a way most people don’t realize until they’re already drowning.”

Y/N looked at her, but she was already facing forward again, her pace steady. And though she said nothing more, the weight of her words lingered behind them like footsteps that didn’t belong.

The first task sounded simple on paper: pick up some coffee and snacks for Aespa during their short break.

But as Y/N stepped out of the convenience store, the weight of the tray in his hands didn’t feel light at all. The coffee cups wobbled with each step. He could feel sweat forming along his back despite the cool air-conditioning. The paper bag of snacks dug awkwardly into his arm, and he didn’t even want to imagine what kind of judgment he’d face if he spilled anything.

He entered the company lounge where Harin stood waiting with her arms crossed. She glanced at the tray, then at his face.

"You took long enough," she muttered, but her tone wasn’t cruel—more like she was testing him.

“I—there was a line,” he said sheepishly.

She nodded toward the hallway. “They’re in the practice room. Go give it to them. Try not to trip.”

Y/N gulped and moved down the corridor, the sound of his footsteps echoing against the clean tile. As he reached the door, he paused.

Behind it, faint laughter echoed—familiar voices now, but still distant from him.

He knocked lightly.

A second later, the door opened. It was Giselle.

“Oh—coffee?” Her eyes lit up. “Nice! Come in.”

Y/N stepped inside, carefully placing the tray and snack bag on the side table.

Karina glanced up from where she sat stretching on the floor. “Thank you,” she said, her tone polite but distant. Winter and Ningning murmured similar thanks, distracted as they sipped water and scrolled through their phones.

Y/N stood awkwardly for a second, unsure whether to linger or leave.

Giselle chuckled, sensing his uncertainty. “You can sit for a bit if you want. We’re not scary.”

He gave a weak smile and lowered himself onto a bench near the wall, not quite joining the circle, but not entirely excluded either.

Ningning peeked into the snack bag. “Oooh, corn chips and those honey butter sticks.”

“That’s so much better than what the last guy got,” Winter said under her breath, drawing a quiet laugh from the others.

Y/N looked down, unsure if that was a compliment or criticism of someone else. Still, it warmed something in his chest.

Then, Karina glanced at him. “You’re… new, right?”

Y/N straightened. “Yes. I’m Y/N. Probationary manager.”

She studied him a moment longer. “You seem nervous.”

He hesitated. “A bit. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“That’s okay,” Winter said with a small grin. “We’ll break you in gently.”

The girls laughed, and Y/N gave a short chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

They began chatting among themselves again, the atmosphere light and relaxed, but Y/N noticed how Winter occasionally glanced toward him, and how Giselle seemed to speak a little louder, subtly including him in the conversation.

For a moment, he let himself breathe.

He still felt like an outsider. But at least he wasn’t invisible.

And somewhere beneath the small talk and laughter, he caught a glimpse of the world Harin had warned him about—unpredictable, layered, and incredibly human.

This wasn’t just a breakroom delivery. This was his first step in earning trust.

And with that, he promised himself: he would not waste it.

—--

They were alone in a side hallway near the company’s back exit. Harin leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching him with a look that wasn’t quite stern, but not relaxed either.

“So,” she said. “You are a student.”

Y/N hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I… I’m on a scholarship here. I study in Seoul. Business major.”

Harin exhaled through her nose and looked away for a moment, as if trying to decide how much to say. When she finally met his eyes again, her expression had shifted—slightly softer, but also… worried.

“Look, I don’t know what the real reason is behind why you’re so desperate for this job,” she began quietly. “I mean, you accepted the offer without even flinching. No hesitation. No concern.”

Her words struck something in Y/N’s chest. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he stayed silent.

She studied his face for a second longer, then continued, more firmly. “…But you really need to think this through. I’m not trying to scare you, but you’re a student. You’ve got classes. Assignments. Exams. And now you’ve got this—being a manager. Arranging schedules, attending shoots, preparing for tours, managing idols’ personal needs and moods, dealing with sudden crises. It’s not just logistics—it’s mental warfare.”

Y/N looked down. The fire in his chest from earlier—the excitement—now flickered, shadowed by a creeping chill of doubt.

“You won’t always be here,” she said. “There will be meetings and work that happens while you’re in class. And the higher-ups? They won’t ask why you weren’t present. You’re a probationary hire. All they’ll care about is your evaluation at the end of the trial.”

She paused. And then:

“And if you’re absent too often, or you can’t keep up… I’m afraid your score won’t make the cut.”

That line hit him like a punch to the stomach. His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

He had no safety net. No backup plan. This wasn’t just about failure—it was about his father’s life. His family’s hope. And now it all felt like a rope walk over fire.

Harin saw the shift in his eyes. She softened a little and called his name gently.

He looked up.

“I don’t say this to scare you,” she said. “I say it because I want you to succeed. Honestly, there’s something different about you. The way you handled things earlier… I’ve never seen a rookie respond like that. I can’t explain it, but I want to believe you have something. So if you ever need help—ask me. I mean it. I’ll be there. But you need to give this everything.”

There was a long silence. Then slowly, Y/N’s gaze turned to the hallway where Aespa had disappeared minutes ago.

And for the first time, not just as idols, but as people, he felt something settle inside him. A responsibility. A resolve.

He looked back at Harin and nodded once, firmly.

“I will,” he said. Then again, with more weight: “I will.”

As Harin turned slightly, preparing to return inside, she glanced back at him, as if remembering something.

“This might surprise you,” she said, her tone gentler now, “but… that’s all you’ve got for today.”

Y/N blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. “That’s it?”

She nodded. “Yeah. You’re done.”

He glanced at the hallway clock. It wasn’t even 1 p.m. “Wait—are you sure? It’s still early.”

“I’m sure,” she said, folding her arms again. “Today’s schedule is mostly continuation work from an ongoing campaign. The team handling it is already familiar with the process. There’s nothing you could contribute without context, and honestly, it’s better not to throw you into something mid-way.”

He hesitated, unsure if he should be relieved or worried. “So… I just go home?”

“Up to you,” she said casually, then added, “Oh, and before I forget—give me your phone number. Then text me your class schedule when you get the chance. I’ll need to know when you’re available.”

Y/N’s face shifted, a flicker of discomfort passing through him. Slowly, he reached into his pocket, pulled something out, and held it up between them.

It was a phone—old, scratched, with a cracked screen that looked like it had been stepped on more than once. It buzzed faintly, the backlight flickering, barely holding on.

“Actually… that’s kind of a problem,” he muttered. “It still turns on sometimes, but it’s almost completely unusable now.”

Harin stared at it, caught off guard. She let out a breath, not of frustration but something closer to sympathy, pressing her lips together before speaking again.

“I see.” Her voice was quieter now, less managerial, more human. “That’s… definitely going to be an issue. You’ll need to fix it. Fast. This job lives and breathes on communication, and without a phone, you’re flying blind. Calls, schedule changes, emergencies—everything depends on staying connected.”

Y/N nodded slowly, the weight of his situation suddenly feeling heavier again. He didn’t try to explain himself—he knew how it must have looked. A rookie showing up without even a functioning phone.

Harin seemed to sense something in his silence, but she didn’t press. Instead, she shifted gears, asking, “Do you have class tomorrow?”

He looked up, thankful for the change of topic. “No. Tomorrow’s clear.”

“Good,” she said, nodding. “Then consider tomorrow your first proper day. Full-time. Real tasks. You’ll be shadowing and assisting as we prep for an upcoming event. Be here before nine.”

That familiar flicker of anxiety stirred in his stomach, but he forced a nod. “Got it.”

There was a beat of silence between them—nothing uncomfortable, just the pause that comes when something begins to feel real.

Then Harin extended her hand, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Bit late for this, but… welcome to the Aespa management team. For now, at least.”

Y/N blinked, then reached out and took her hand. Her grip was firm and brief.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will.” Her voice carried more confidence than he expected.

With that, she turned and walked back into the building, the glass door closing behind her with a soft click.

Y/N was left standing in the quiet, sunlight casting long shadows across the pavement. For the first time since setting foot in the company, he was truly alone. No noise, no voices, no eyes on him.

He looked down at the broken phone in his hand, the fractured screen catching the light. It felt like a metaphor—fragile, outdated, barely holding on… but still working, somehow.

He slipped it back into his pocket and glanced up at the building’s logo above the door, its bold letters reflecting gold in the afternoon sun.

Tomorrow, it would begin for real.

As the glass doors closed behind Harin, the distant echo of her footsteps faded, swallowed by the ambient hum of late afternoon traffic. Y/N stood there for a moment just outside the building, the sun hanging low and tired in the sky, casting long shadows across the pavement. The warmth that had filled him during the handshake now lingered faintly in his fingers, already beginning to cool.

He pulled out his phone—its screen still cracked, faintly flickering, struggling to stay alive. A soft sigh escaped his lips. It was no good. Even trying to restart it seemed like waking a dying machine. He stared at it for a few seconds longer, then quietly lowered his hand.

The streets weren’t crowded. Just the occasional car passing, a cyclist riding lazily by, a mother dragging a stubborn child along the sidewalk. Y/N’s feet moved before his thoughts could catch up, and he found himself wandering past the front gates and into the smaller roads nearby. The energy of the day was winding down; the sun dipped lower, brushing the sky with that golden hue that always made things feel more fragile.

A few blocks away, nestled beside a shuttered flower shop and a small convenience store, he spotted something out of place in a modern city—an old public phone booth. The kind you walked past a thousand times and never noticed. Faded blue paint. A scratched-up plastic hood. The phone inside hung like a relic, disconnected from the world buzzing around it.

He paused, staring at it like it was something from another life. Then he stepped inside, quietly sliding the door shut behind him.

The air inside the booth was still—too still. He dropped a few coins into the slot, fingers pausing over the numbers like he was holding his breath. Then he dialed. The tone rang out into the silence, each chime echoing in the enclosed space, loud enough to feel like it might break something inside him.

One… two… three.

“Hello?” A tired voice, cautious. Worn thin. “Who’s this?”

He swallowed. “It’s me. Mom… It’s Y/N.”

There was a beat of silence. Then—an inhale so sharp, he could almost hear the way her hand flew to her mouth.

“Y/N?” Her voice cracked around his name. “Oh my god—where have you been? I’ve been calling and texting for days. I thought—”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, trying to sound steady, like everything was fine. “My phone… it’s dead. Broke completely. I couldn’t answer anything.”

A tremble carried through the line. “I thought something happened to you,” she said, softer now, like she was trying not to cry. “I’ve barely been sleeping. I kept checking my phone, praying you'd answer…”

He lowered his head, resting his forehead against the cool glass. His eyes stung. “I’m okay, Mom. Really. That’s actually why I’m calling.”

He drew in a breath, long and slow.

“I… I got a job.”

“A job?” Her voice rose slightly, full of surprise, tangled in cautious hope. “What kind of job?”

“Managerial work. It’s temporary, but... there’s a chance it might turn into something more.” He tried to keep it light, but each word was wrapped in quiet desperation—desperation to give her something to believe in.

There was a pause. Then her voice returned, gentler.

“Can you handle that? With school? And everything else?”

“I’ll make it work,” he said, forcing a small smile she couldn’t see. “I have to. For Dad… for us. I’ll figure it out.”

The line went quiet for a moment. Just the sound of both of them breathing.

Then— That cough. It came low, scratchy, rough. Not once. Again. And again.

He stood straighter, his whole body tensing.

“Mom?” Another cough. Then a muffled breath. “Mom, what was that? Are you sick?”

“I’m fine,” she said too quickly, brushing it off like a fly from her shoulder. “Probably just a cold. You know how it is.”

He didn’t respond right away. Because now he heard it—really heard it. The weakness in her voice. The breathlessness. The way she’d slowed her speech to keep from triggering another cough.

A cold certainty settled in his chest.

“…Mom. Are you… working?”

Silence.

He closed his eyes. Prayed she’d laugh. Tell him no. Tell him he was being dramatic.

But her answer came quiet. Measured.

“I had to, baby. I’m sorry. What you’re doing out there—it’s everything. But one person can’t carry the weight of a whole family alone. I had to help too. Even just a little.”

He pressed his lips together. The words twisted inside him.

She should’ve been resting. She should’ve been warm at home, reading her book, drinking that awful ginger tea she always made too strong. Not pushing her lungs and legs just to make a few extra bills stretch further.

“I thought… you promised,” he whispered. “You said you’d take care of things at home.”

“I am taking care of things,” she replied, and somehow her voice was still tender. Still kind. “I’m helping. That’s what mothers do, sweetheart.”

He bit down on the inside of his cheek until the sting reached his eyes. The sky above the booth was deepening now—gold bleeding into violet. A wind passed outside, rattling the phone wires.

She kept speaking, softer now.

“Don’t carry this guilt, Y/N. Please. I know you… You always feel like it’s your job to hold everything. But you’re already doing more than I ever hoped. I’m so proud of you, my love. So proud. Just promise me one thing, okay?”

His breath caught. “…What is it?”

“Promise me you’ll eat well. That you’ll sleep well when you can. That you’ll be kind. Even when people aren’t kind to you. Kindness doesn’t disappear, baby—it lingers. It plants itself in people, and sometimes it blooms when you least expect it.”

His grip tightened on the receiver. His eyes burned. His throat was locked up with everything he couldn’t say.

“I love you, Y/N. No matter how far you are, no matter how quiet the days get—I love you. You’re never alone, okay? I’m always with you.”

He nodded, fiercely. Like if he nodded hard enough, it would carry across the line and hold her hand through the wire.

“I love you too, Mom.”

They didn’t say goodbye all at once. They lingered. Neither wanting to hang up first. They lowered their voices, like they were afraid of waking the sorrow resting quietly between them. Then finally, the line went still.

And the silence that followed felt heavier than before.

He lowered the receiver slowly, letting it rest in the cradle with a faint click. The booth was quiet again, still bathed in the last warm rays of sun. He stood there for a moment, head bowed, trying to breathe through the weight in his chest.

And then, the tears came.

Not loud or dramatic—just steady, like rain slipping from a roof after a storm. His shoulders shook quietly as he leaned against the glass, his sobs muffled into his sleeve. All the pain he’d held back—the pressure, the fear, the helplessness—it all bled out of him in that silent, fading light.

His knees nearly buckled. He sank down a little, crouched in the corner of the booth, holding his arms tightly around himself.

His mother—sick, working.

His father—waiting for a surgery they couldn’t afford.

And he, stuck in a foreign country, chasing the one fragile opportunity that might save them.

But even in that moment of grief, something inside him hardened—not with bitterness, but resolve.

When the tears finally stopped, he wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, stood up, and stepped out of the booth. The sun had dipped lower, brushing the sky in orange and indigo. He took a long breath, then another.

Tomorrow would be the real beginning.

And no matter how heavy it got… he would carry it.

All of it.

For them.

—

The sun hadn’t even finished rising when Y/N found himself standing in front of the SM Entertainment building again, his breath faintly visible in the crisp morning air. A slight breeze brushed across his face as he stared up at the structure. Compared to yesterday’s late-afternoon warmth, today’s early morning felt sharper, more demanding. It was his first official day on duty—no more shadowing, no more observing from a distance. He was in it now.

He stepped through the glass doors into the lobby, which was mostly empty aside from a security guard sipping from a steaming mug and a clerk behind the front desk, typing idly at a terminal. Y/N glanced around uncertainly. Harin hadn’t arrived yet. He remembered her saying to be here before nine, and he’d taken it seriously—arriving just before eight-thirty. But now, with no clear instruction, he stood awkwardly near the lobby's side, unsure if he should sit, wait, or look for someone.

The clerk looked up and seemed to recognize his confusion.

“You must be the new guy, right?” she asked, standing up slightly from her seat.

Y/N blinked and nodded. “Yes, I’m... supposed to meet Harin-ssi, but I’m a bit early.”

“She mentioned that,” the clerk replied, reaching below the counter and pulling out a sleek black tablet. “She said you’d be coming in today. Told me to pass this to you first thing.”

He stepped forward and accepted the tablet with both hands, bowing politely. “Thank you.”

“She also said you need to pick up the girls by nine and make sure they arrive at the music show location before ten. So… you might want to get moving.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Oh—yes, of course.”

“She already entered today’s schedule in there, so just follow the itinerary. Good luck.” The clerk gave a small smile before returning to her screen.

Y/N turned toward a bench and sat down, tapping the power button on the device. It flickered to life. The interface was clean but foreign to him—everything labeled in Korean, with unfamiliar apps and a custom calendar system synced to the entertainment division. After a few moments of trial and error, he managed to locate today’s agenda. The first entry was marked in bold:

09:00 — Pick up Aespa at their residence.

10:00 — Arrival at KBS Studio, Yeouido (Pre-recorded Stage for Music Bank).

10:30–12:00 — Makeup & Preparation.

12:15 — Soundcheck.

13:30 — Performance Recording.

Y/N let out a small breath. It was real now.

He got back on his feet and made his way to the underground parking area where the vehicle department was stationed. After checking in and explaining that he was assigned to Aespa’s schedule today, the staff handed him keys to one of the company vans. He bowed and quickly made his way toward the designated parking slot.

The van was surprisingly large and clean, designed with spacious seating and privacy-tinted windows. The dashboard still smelled faintly of new car interior. Y/N climbed in, adjusted the seat, and checked the directions to the girls' residence.

It didn’t take long before he was parked just outside the entrance to a high-security apartment complex—modern, minimalistic, and clearly expensive. A small guard booth sat near the gates. Y/N stepped out of the vehicle and approached the guard booth, trying to appear confident despite the nervous flutter in his chest.

The guard, a stocky man in his fifties with a permanent scowl etched into his features, glanced up from his seat with suspicion. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to pick up Aespa,” Y/N said, bowing politely. “I’m their manager—well, probationary manager. From SM Entertainment.”

The man didn’t return the bow. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Let’s see your company ID.”

Y/N froze. “Ah… I don’t have one yet. I just started yesterday.”

The guard raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Then a temporary pass?”

“No, I wasn’t given one either.”

That was enough to make the man lean fully back in his chair, already done with the conversation. He scoffed.

“You come here claiming you work for SM, and you don’t have an ID? No temp pass? No nothing?”

“I swear, I’m supposed to be here—Harin-ssi, the head manager, she—”

“I don’t care who you say sent you,” the guard cut him off, voice sharp now. “You’re wasting my time.”

Y/N felt his throat tighten. “Please, I’m not lying. You can call them. I just need to pick the girls up for their schedule.”

“Enough,” the guard snapped, standing up from his chair. “This is private property. I don’t entertain people who show up pretending to be staff. You think this is the first time I’ve seen this?”

“I’m not—”

“I don’t care.” The man pointed firmly toward the exit. “Turn around and leave before I call security. And if I have to report you to the police, I will. You’re not getting in here.”

Y/N took a step back, heart pounding. He could feel the humiliation crawling up his spine. He looked at the guard, eyes pleading.

“Just call them. Please. I’ll leave if they say they don’t know me, I promise. Just one call.”

The guard stared at him like he was an insect on the glass. For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then, with an irritated sigh, he grabbed the landline on the desk and jabbed a number into it. “You better pray they answer,” he muttered.

One ring. Two. Three.

Silence.

Y/N clenched his hands behind his back.

“If they don’t pick up, I’m calling this in as a trespass attempt,” the guard warned coldly. “And don’t try to argue. I won’t listen.”

Then—a click. The line connected.

A drowsy, slightly hoarse voice answered on the other end. “...Hello?”

The guard straightened slightly. “Sorry for the early call. There’s a guy down here saying he’s with SM, here to pick you up. No ID. No proof. Says he’s your manager. Do you know anyone like that?”

A long pause. Too long.

Y/N held his breath. The guard glanced at him, his eyes full of skepticism.

Then came the reply. Still sleepy, but clear: “Yeah… yeah. That’s him. He’s with us.”

The guard narrowed his eyes. “You’re sure?”

“Mmhmm. He’s the new guy. It’s fine.”

A beat of silence passed. Then the guard slowly hung up the phone and looked back at Y/N.

“You’re lucky,” he muttered. “But next time? You don’t come here without ID. I don’t care what story you have. You try that again, I’ll report it before you open your mouth.”

Y/N bowed deeply. “Yes, sir. I understand. Thank you.”

The guard buzzed the gate open without another word.

As Y/N jogged back to the van, he let out a sharp breath, his nerves still on edge. He’d barely cleared that hurdle, and the day had only just begun.

Y/N guided the van through the tight turns of the apartment complex, his eyes flicking between the signs and the GPS. It was early, the kind of still morning where the city hadn’t quite shaken off its sleep yet, but his pulse was already uneasy. After a short drive through the maze of buildings, he pulled up in front of the Aespa dorm tower. He parked by the curb and cut the engine, then sat still for a moment, staring up at the building.

Should he go up and greet them? Would that be too forward?

It didn’t feel right. He barely knew them—hadn’t even exchanged proper introductions yet—and showing up at their door felt intrusive. A manager or not, he was still a stranger. So, he stayed in the van, deciding to wait it out. Even if it meant standing around for a while, it seemed like the more respectful choice.

He stepped out of the van and stood beside it near the front lobby, hands in his pockets, quietly waiting as the cool morning air brushed against his face.

Time began to stretch.

Twenty minutes passed.

Not a shadow moved near the building entrance. No rustle of footsteps. No door creaked open. Just stillness.

He checked the digital clock glowing softly on the dashboard. The minute hand ticked toward danger. They were going to be late if they didn’t leave soon.

A twinge of panic crept up his spine. He glanced at his phone, instinctively thinking about sending a message—only to remember, once again, that he didn’t have their numbers. His phone could barely handle messaging apps anyway.

Another ten minutes crawled by, and just as anxiety truly began to coil in his chest, a figure emerged from the building.

A girl in a white mask, black hoodie, and loose jeans walked toward the van casually, eyes scanning the lot. Winter.

Relief swept over Y/N like a wave. His shoulders dropped just slightly as she approached.

“Good morning,” he said, trying not to sound too eager or nervous.

Winter returned the greeting with a brief nod, her eyes unreadable behind the mask. “The others are still upstairs,” she murmured, not breaking stride. She walked past him and climbed into the van without another word.

Her coldness wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t exactly warm either. Y/N paused for a second, letting the sensation settle before brushing it off. He wasn’t here to be liked—not yet, anyway. This was work. They were idols. He was a new guy. That’s all there was to it.

A few minutes later, more footsteps followed. One by one, the rest of Aespa made their way outside. Ningning was next, stretching as she walked. Giselle followed soon after, hair still slightly damp, holding her phone with both hands. Karina appeared last, hood pulled up, barely glancing his way.

Y/N bowed slightly to each of them, offering quiet good mornings as they passed. Some responded with soft smiles or half-hearted waves; others gave a small nod in return. He didn’t press for more. They were tired—he could see it in their eyes, the way they moved, still waking up as if their bodies hadn’t caught up to the day yet.

As soon as they were all in the van, Y/N hurried inside and shut the door. He turned slightly in his seat, speaking gently.

“Is everyone ready?”

A few thumbs up appeared in the rearview mirror. No one spoke.

“Would you like to stop anywhere first? Maybe grab something to eat or drink?”

No answer. Their attention was locked on their phones. Karina scrolled absently, while Ningning leaned her head against the window with her eyes closed. Giselle tapped away quickly, earphones in. No one even looked up.

He gave a small smile, quiet and understanding. Maybe they were tired. Maybe they just needed space to gather themselves. Either way, he didn’t take it personally.

He faced forward, started the engine, and pulled out of the lot.

But the universe had other plans. The moment he merged into traffic, the road ahead was already jammed—bumper-to-bumper cars crawling at a glacial pace. His eyes snapped to the navigation screen, which now blared the truth: they were going to be at least fifteen minutes late.

Panic pressed at the edges of his composure.

He glanced up at the rearview mirror. Ningning had fallen asleep. Winter had her head leaned back, eyes closed. The others were still glued to their screens. No one seemed aware. Or maybe they were used to it.

But he wasn’t. Not on his first day.

His knuckles tightened slightly around the steering wheel as he willed the traffic to move faster. This couldn’t be happening. He had done everything right—or tried to. But the morning was spiraling out of his control, one missed step after another. And no matter how hard he tried, there was nothing he could do now but drive.

To his bad luck, time hadn’t been on his side. The moment he glanced at the clock again, it was already past the designated time, and the heavy traffic earlier had only made things worse. By the time they reached the music show building, they were fifteen minutes late.

Y/N shifted in his seat, frustration quietly brewing beneath the surface, though he kept his expression still. As he made the turn toward the authorized staff parking entrance, a hand raised from the checkpoint post, signaling him to stop. The van came to a smooth halt as the security guard walked toward his window, his face stern and unreadable.

"Purpose of visit?" the guard asked flatly.

Y/N rolled the window further down and quickly explained, trying to stay composed. “I'm part of the manager team for Aespa. I was assigned to bring them here.”

He motioned toward the rearview mirror, where the girls sat in silence behind their masks and sunglasses.

The guard squinted, then peeked through the tinted windows, recognizing a few faces. After a moment of quiet hesitation, he gave a small nod and waved them through, though his eyes lingered on Y/N with a sharpness that stung a little.

“Go ahead. Try to be on time next time,” he muttered as he stepped back.

“Thank you,” Y/N said quickly before pulling forward.

He found the nearest available space, parked swiftly, and unbuckled his seatbelt in one fluid motion. Without wasting a second, he stepped out and pulled open the sliding door. The suddenness of it made one of the girls flinch a little.

“Ah—sorry,” Y/N said, lowering his voice. “Let’s go.”

He led them through the underground lot and into the lobby, keeping his pace calm even though his heart was racing. They moved together, silent, the only sounds being the faint clack of their shoes and the low buzz of chatter from nearby corridors. But just as they passed the main entrance hall, Y/N realized something—he had no idea where to go.

He slowed to a halt.

The girls followed instinctively, stopping behind him.

Giselle leaned in slightly, her brow raised. “What’s wrong?”

Y/N turned slightly, hesitating. His eyes darted around for any visible sign, a label, someone familiar—anything. But nothing looked familiar, and the more he searched, the tighter the anxiety gripped his chest. His mouth opened slightly, trying to form a reply, but no sound came out.

“He doesn’t know the way, right?” Karina said suddenly, her voice calm but firm. She didn’t wait for a response and took the lead confidently down the hallway.

Y/N let out a quiet breath through his nose, both embarrassed and grateful. He followed behind them, keeping his eyes low as the girls took control of what should’ve been his responsibility.

As they reached the corridor near the dressing rooms, the atmosphere shifted. Staff were rushing around, adjusting lights, carrying makeup kits, organizing wardrobes. It was a flurry of motion, commands, and chatter. Amidst it all, one of the older male staff—maybe a department lead, judging by his clipboard and attitude—turned his head and called out loudly with clear annoyance.

“Finally. They’re here.”

Y/N winced slightly at the tone, but said nothing.

Ahead of him, Harin emerged from the hallway leading to the green room. Her expression was unreadable, but she gave a small nod toward the girls as they passed her and entered the room. Y/N stepped aside to let them through, catching a quick glimpse of them already moving toward the makeup stations, slipping into routine like they’d done it a thousand times.

Before he could fully follow them in, the same older staff member stepped in front of him, expression twisted with annoyance. His tone dropped slightly, but the edge of it remained.

“Yah, new boy,” he said, tapping the face of his watch with a finger. “Do you know how to do your job or not? First day and you’re already slacking off. You were supposed to be here a while ago.”

The words struck deep even though the man wasn’t shouting. It was the kind of scolding that didn’t need volume to hurt. Y/N kept his gaze respectful, trying not to flinch. He opened his mouth to explain, but someone else stepped in before he could.

“Don’t think about it too much, Woojin,” Harin said as she approached, her voice calm but cutting enough to make the man glance toward her.

“Now they’re here, and that’s all that matters. Go to your designated spot and start your work—with your sidekicks.”

The man gave an annoyed shake of his head but didn’t argue further. He turned on his heel and disappeared down the hallway, grumbling something under his breath.

Around the room, a few murmurs started to rise. Y/N could feel the stares—even if no one looked directly at him, the air carried their judgments. He stayed quiet, shoulders stiff, trying not to let the weight of embarrassment sink too deep.

Harin gave him a short look, then gestured with her head.

“Come with me,” she said, already turning toward the hallway.

Y/N followed, still wordless, the thrum of shame trailing behind him like a shadow.

They walked in silence, their footsteps echoing faintly against the polished floors of the backstage hallway. Harin led him past a row of dressing rooms and into a quieter corner tucked near a service door—just out of earshot from the others, but not completely secluded. The kind of spot where short conversations happened, the kind people didn’t really want overheard.

Once they stopped, Harin turned to face him, folding her arms tightly across her chest. Her expression wasn’t angry, but there was a cool edge to her tone—firm, composed, and disappointed in a way that didn’t need raising her voice.

“You’re late,” she said, pausing long enough for the words to settle. “Thirteen minutes.”

Y/N lowered his head slightly, his gaze falling toward the ground. His lips parted as instinct kicked in, but the apology caught in his throat before it could fully form.

“I’m—” He stopped himself.

There was no point. Saying sorry wouldn’t change the fact. It wouldn’t take back the delay, the awkward moment outside, or the small storm he’d already caused in the green room.

Harin let the silence hang just long enough before continuing. “I told you to be here by ten. I left instructions with the front clerk and even programmed the reminder into the tablet I handed you.”

Y/N stayed quiet, the weight of responsibility sitting heavier on his shoulders now. She wasn’t yelling. She didn’t need to. Her calmness did all the work.

“This is why I told you to get your phone situation sorted out,” she added. “It’s a problem when you can’t be reached. Especially in this department. Communication is everything here, and I can’t always be running back to check on you.”

Still quiet.

But not for long.

He drew in a small breath, just enough to lift his shoulders slightly, then finally spoke.

“I’m sorry. I actually arrived on time,” he said carefully, voice steady. “I got to the dorm around nine-thirty, but the guard at the gate wouldn’t let me through. Said I didn’t have any ID verification and blocked me.”

His eyes stayed low as he spoke, but his tone was earnest.

“I tried to explain, but it didn’t matter. Took a while before he agreed to call the apartment upstairs. Luckily, someone answered, and only then he let me in. I picked them up, but…”

He hesitated slightly, glancing to the side.

“There were just… a lot of cars on the road. Traffic was packed. It slowed everything.”

As he spoke, Harin’s expression shifted slightly—not softened exactly, but she wasn’t just listening now; she was reflecting. And when he mentioned the guard and the ID, her lips pressed together into a thin line, and her eyes briefly closed.

“Ah… shit,” she muttered under her breath.

It wasn’t loud, but he heard it.

She let out a slow exhale through her nose, the tension in her shoulders loosening just a bit. Her fingers flexed against her arms, and the realization hit her fully.

“I forgot your ID card…” she murmured. It was more to herself than to him. She had meant to hand it over that morning—had even set it aside on her desk before the day began. But in the rush of coordinating schedules and checking with the floor manager, it had slipped completely from her mind. And instead of keeping him at her side like she originally planned, she gave him a solo task—without the one thing he needed to complete it smoothly.

Her jaw tightened. She was disappointed—not in him, but in herself. That one oversight had caused a chain of problems for someone who didn’t even have proper footing yet.

“Is something wrong?” Y/N asked gently, noticing the change in her expression.

Harin shook her head, snapping out of it. “No. I’ll tell you later,” she said, her tone flat but not dismissive.

She let the silence settle for a moment again. Y/N stood still, respectful, but waiting. She looked at him—really looked, as if measuring something in her mind. Then she asked, calmly and clearly:

“Just one more thing…”

Y/N lifted his head slightly, eyes meeting hers.

The conversation hung there, ready to shift.

Back in the green room, the atmosphere remained tense, though no one was shouting anymore. The energy had shifted into something quieter, murkier—a low hum of whispers and sidelong glances that clung to the walls like static. Staff moved around with focused efficiency, sorting garments and laying out accessories, but the murmurs floated just beneath the surface, like a low tide never quite retreating.

Near the makeup chairs, the girls were seated in a line, heads tilted back slightly as the makeup artists worked on their foundation and base. Brushes swiped across their faces, dabs of concealer and powder pressing into their skin with practiced rhythm. Despite the calm motions, their expressions weren’t relaxed.

From the other side of the room—near the clothing racks and a table filled with neatly labeled hangers—some of the stylists had slipped into conversation.

“Is that the new guy?” one of them whispered, tone not malicious but sharply amused. “Wah… already starting with something bad.”

Another chuckled, pinning a brooch onto a navy stage outfit. “He didn’t even look like he knew what he was doing. Just standing there like a lost puppy.”

“Yeah. I mean, maybe he likes it, being late like that. Gets to spend more time around the girls or something.” A soft scoff followed, as if the idea was both predictable and disappointing.

The words weren’t meant for the members to hear—spoken in that careless, too-loud whisper that only came when people thought they weren’t being listened to. But of course, the girls heard. They always did.

Giselle’s eyes shifted slightly in the mirror, her brows furrowing for just a second before she turned her gaze back forward. Karina’s fingers, which had been resting lightly on the table, curled slowly into her palm. Ningning didn’t say anything, but her lips parted as if she was about to. Only Winter reacted more directly, subtly glancing toward the source of the voices before pressing her tongue against the inside of her cheek and looking away.

None of them said anything aloud—but the mood around their chairs had shifted.

Because they knew.

It wasn’t him.

It wasn’t the new manager’s fault.

He was just doing what he was told.

The real reason they were late—the reason those whispers had even started—was sitting with them now, in each of their minds, impossible to brush away. When Winter picked up the phone earlier that morning, they’d barely opened their eyes. Half-asleep, slow to move, tangled in blankets. They hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet.

The only reason they usually made it on time was because Harin always came up, knocking on the door or even stepping inside, telling them to hurry, reminding them of the clock. That had become their rhythm—someone pushing them from behind, always keeping them moving.

But today, Harin hadn’t come. And none of them had thought much of it at the time. They’d taken their time getting ready. They weren’t even dressed when Winter answered the intercom.

He waited outside.

And still, he didn’t complain.

Now he was probably getting scolded for it, and people were already making assumptions—joking, whispering, reducing him to nothing more than “the guy who made them late.” When in truth, he was the only one trying to hold it together.

Karina let out a quiet sigh, deep enough that her stylist glanced at her briefly, unsure whether she’d moved. But she stayed still. She didn’t want to draw attention to it.

The same thoughts moved silently between them. The same guilt.

He didn’t deserve that.

He didn’t deserve the looks, or the mutters, or the way he had to stand there alone in front of a room full of strangers who had already decided who he was.

Not after he waited patiently for them.

Not after he smiled and asked if they wanted anything before the ride, even when none of them responded.

They were the ones who slacked.

And now, sitting in front of bright mirrors while other people judged him behind his back, they could feel the weight of that mistake.

Not on him.

On themselves.

Inside the makeup room, the quiet hum of blow dryers, light chatter from stylists, and the rustling of hangers filled the air. The girls sat in their respective seats, letting the staff work on their faces and hair, but their expressions were faintly tight — a tension they weren’t voicing.

Behind them, near the racks of outfits, some murmurs could still be heard from the clothing team.

“That’s the new guy? Wah, already started with something bad...” “He doesn’t even look like he knows what he’s doing.” “Probably enjoying being late... gets more time with the girls, doesn’t he?”

They didn’t even bother whispering. The staff weren’t exactly trying to be cruel, just speaking their thoughts as they always had — but it landed wrong. This time, the girls heard it. And for once, it didn’t just breeze past them.

Karina lowered her gaze to her phone, her screen dimming as her thumb stopped moving. Giselle glanced at the mirror briefly, her jaw tightening slightly. Ningning let out a breath and fiddled with her fingernails, eyes unfocused.

Because deep down, they knew. It wasn’t on him. It was on them.

When Winter picked up the intercom call from the front lobby earlier, none of them were even dressed. They were barely awake. They moved slowly, took their time, thinking Harin would eventually come up to rush them — like she always did. That was the routine. That was what they were used to.

But this time was different. They forgot.

Harin walked into the room not long after, quietly stepping past racks of outfits and motioning for one of the stylists. As she passed the girls, Ningning called out from her chair, eyes watching her through the reflection.

“Unnie… where’s Y/N?”

Harin glanced at her through the mirror. “I sent him to go check the stage layout with the venue staff and the other managers. Told him to observe and learn.”

Karina hesitated for a moment, then spoke softly, “...You’re not… mad at him, are you?”

Harin stopped near the edge of the vanity row, arms crossed loosely. “Why?”

Ningning, more direct, chimed in before Karina could answer. “Because he was late, right? But unnie, please… don’t be mad at him. He was late because of us. We all woke up late. We didn’t even start getting ready until after he called.” She looked toward Harin earnestly. “We just didn’t think. We thought you’d come upstairs like always…”

But Harin raised a hand gently, stopping her. “I know,” she said. “I figured it out as soon as I saw your hair still damp and your faces half bare when you arrived.”

She didn’t sound angry. But there was something in her tone that wasn’t there earlier. A quiet disappointment — not toward Y/N, but the room in general.

“That’s why I wasn’t mad,” she continued, looking between them. “I wasn’t angry at him. Just… frustrated.”

The room stilled. Even the stylists slowed a little, sensing the shift in the air.

“You all know he’s new. This is his first real day. He barely knows how the system works yet. You didn’t greet him. You didn’t guide him. You didn’t even give him a chance.”

Her voice wasn’t sharp, but it struck.

“Did any of you even say sorry to him when he got to the dorm?” she asked, not accusing — just asking.

No one answered. They didn’t have to. The silence told the story.

“I’m not saying this to guilt you or to make you feel bad,” Harin added after a beat, her voice softening. “But you girls know how hard this job is. You’ve seen managers come and go. You’ve seen the stress. And this one—he’s trying. I can see it.”

She let out a small breath and shook her head. “All I’m asking is—try to meet him halfway. That’s all.”

There was nothing more to say after that.

Harin looked over at Winter, who had just finished her touch-up. She sat with her eyes closed, face unreadable, arms crossed lightly in her lap. She didn’t say anything.

She didn’t even nod.

And that, perhaps, spoke louder than any apology.

The room had settled into a quiet rhythm after Harin’s words. Stylists worked in focused silence, brushing powders and adjusting curls, the earlier mutters dying out beneath a layer of quiet guilt. Though no one said it out loud, Harin’s message lingered like a weight in the air—one they all felt.

Karina sat still under the soft tug of her hair being curled, her eyes lowered to her lap, not her phone. Her thoughts lingered. She didn’t even notice Harin quietly exiting the room again, probably to get back to her chaotic rounds. Instead, Karina found herself thinking about what had been said—and more importantly, what hadn’t.

Y/N hadn’t done anything wrong. And yet, he stood there outside the van that morning, waiting awkwardly, never pressuring them, never raising his voice, not even when Winter brushed past him with barely a glance. That image returned to her now, and it didn’t sit right.

She exhaled slowly, earning a concerned glance from the stylist who thought the curling iron had been too hot. “Sorry,” Karina whispered, offering a polite smile.

Ningning, whose face was half-done beside her, turned slightly. “You okay?”

Karina gave a light nod. “Yeah… just thinking.”

The girls didn’t speak further, but a subtle shift passed between them—less playful, more aware.

Outside, Y/N trailed behind a mid-level stage coordinator and two other junior managers. The girl leading the group was brisk and sharp-tongued, clearly someone who had been under pressure since sunrise. She pointed at marked areas on the stage, barked instructions about schedule slots, entrance timing, exit placement, and emphasized everything twice “in case the newbie gets lost.”

Y/N nodded, took mental notes, nodded again. His old phone was useless for this—no tablet, no fast way to jot things. But he remembered. He had no choice but to remember.

When they were done, the coordinator dismissed them with a quick flick of the wrist. “You—newbie. You stay back and double-check the props by the left wing. Someone forgot to label them.”

Y/N obeyed quietly.

Unbeknownst to him, Karina had finished her makeup early. And with Harin still absent, and no other staff paying attention to her, she stepped out quietly. Maybe she told herself it was for fresh air. Maybe that’s what she believed. But her feet brought her to the stage wing anyway, where muffled voices and soundchecks were underway.

She spotted him crouching by a crate, peeling back a flap of gaffer tape to read a barely legible label. Alone again. Just like earlier in front of the dorm.

Karina hesitated. Something about this felt oddly familiar. The way he worked silently, trying to make himself useful without making himself seen. She could’ve turned back right then—but something kept her rooted.

Instead, she called out softly, “Y/N.”

He looked up, surprised, nearly knocking into the side of the crate. “Oh—Karina-ssi.”

“You don’t have to be so formal,” she said, stepping closer. Her tone wasn’t warm exactly, but there was no ice either. “Just Karina is fine.”

He blinked, then nodded slowly. “Karina.”

A small pause. A technician passed between them, rolling a light stand, the silence filled briefly with the hum of equipment being tested.

“I just wanted to say...” She fidgeted slightly with the cuff of her sleeve. “About earlier... you know, at the dorm—we weren’t ready. Not because of you. It was us. I should’ve said something. So... sorry.”

Y/N straightened a little, caught off guard. “You don’t have to—”

“No, I do,” she said, more firmly. “You’re new. And you still showed up on time, even though no one made it easy for you. That says something.”

Her words were simple, but they landed deeper than she knew.

Y/N smiled faintly, the first real smile of the day that didn’t feel forced. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

Karina nodded. She looked like she wanted to say more—but a call echoed from the hallway.

“Karina! Come on! Run-through starts in ten!”

She gave a half-grimace. “Duty calls.”

As she turned to go, she stopped and glanced back. “You’re doing fine, you know. Don’t let the noise get to you.”

And then she was gone.

Y/N remained for a moment, the sound of her footsteps fading behind the curtain. Then he looked back down at the half-labeled crate and let out a small exhale.

It was still a rough day. But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t a bad one.

The echo of Karina’s footsteps faded behind the curtain, leaving Y/N standing in the semi-dark wing of the stage, half-hidden among crates and coiled cables. He blinked once, then exhaled slowly, grounding himself again. The weight on his chest felt just a little lighter now.

From the stage, a staff call snapped him out of thought.

“Soundcheck starting! Managers, get your artists lined up!”

Y/N stood upright and quickly moved toward the entrance where aespa would be guided onto the stage. He wasn't leading them—he didn’t have that authority yet—but he still needed to be present, helpful, attentive. As always.

A flurry of footsteps approached. The members were being ushered down the corridor by one of the mid-level coordinators. Harin trailed closely behind, clipboard in hand, speaking in a low voice to one of the sound technicians. She caught sight of Y/N and gave him a brief, distracted nod.

The girls were in their stage rehearsal outfits—casual, comfortable, but still styled enough for any surprise behind-the-scenes footage. Karina was among the last to enter, her earlier warmth toward Y/N now folded away behind her usual quiet professionalism.

No words were exchanged. None were needed.

As the group gathered on stage, Y/N stood to the side, just outside the visible frame, hands clasped behind his back, observing silently. He noted the mic placements, the subtle handoffs of in-ears and backup packs, the sequence of positioning for each girl.

The soundcheck was efficient, but never rushed. The girls moved through their choreography markers, checking spacing and timing. The audio team adjusted levels mid-performance, nodding between each other with raised thumbs.

Y/N’s eyes tracked every movement—not just of the girls, but the staff around them. Where people stood. Who handed what. Where cables snaked dangerously across the floor. He memorized as much as he could, even as his stomach tightened slightly from hunger he was trying to ignore.

The performance wrapped with a final run of the chorus. The music cut, and the coordinator raised his hand. “Alright, good. Take five—then we’ll prep for the lunch break announcement.”

The girls stepped offstage one by one. Karina passed by Y/N without a glance this time—too focused. Giselle tugged off her in-ear and flexed her neck. Winter said nothing, as usual. Ningning gave Y/N the faintest smile—quick, almost like she didn’t mean to. But it was there.

And then the murmurs started.

Not from the idols. From behind them.

A couple of younger managers had gathered near the equipment cases, whispering low.

“…did you see how Harin was watching him during soundcheck?”

“She always defends him.”

“She never did this with any of us when we were new.”

“Maybe he’s got something on her. Or maybe he’s playing some pathetic act to get sympathy.”

Y/N pretended not to hear it. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t react.

But it was impossible not to hear.

From the far side, the same male staff member who had been curt with him that morning—the one who had sent him off to organize props—stepped closer to Harin, tone quiet but clipped.

“You’ve changed, you know that?”

Harin blinked, caught off guard.

“With the new guy,” the man continued. “You’re hovering. You’re defending him. I’ve never seen you like this with a newbie before. Not even close.”

Harin raised an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

“He’s using you. I don’t know what story he’s spinning, but you’re eating it up. And now the others are starting to talk.”

She stood still for a moment, then set her clipboard down on the edge of a case, folding her arms. “Let them talk.”

The man narrowed his eyes. “You’re seriously going to put your neck out for some kid we barely know?”

Harin didn’t answer right away. Her gaze flicked briefly across the stage, where Y/N was standing by himself again, checking the side panel curtain like it mattered more than the whispers behind him.

Then she looked back at the staffer. “I’ve been in this job long enough to know when someone’s pretending. And he’s not.”

The man scoffed. “You’re blinded. Sympathy can be a dangerous thing.”

“Or maybe you’re just too used to ignoring people unless they’re useful,” she shot back, her voice low but sharp.

The tension buzzed between them like static.

A radio cracked to life on the belt of one of the assistants. “All right, announce lunch break now—prep the main hall for meals.”

The moment broke. The staffer backed off without another word, but his expression made it clear this wasn’t the last of it.

Meanwhile, Harin picked up her clipboard again and gave a signal to a PA.

“Let’s move. Lunch break starting now.”

And as the announcement echoed through the backstage hall, Y/N quietly began to fade into the background again—unaware of what had just been said, or how the gossip about him was starting to spread.

The energy backstage had mellowed into a rare lull as the staff finally called for a lunch break. The soundcheck had gone smoothly enough—no major hitches, no complaints from the sound team. With the stage cleared and the schedule briefly paused, the usual flurry of movement shifted into a different rhythm: one filled with the scent of packed meals and the soft rustle of convenience store bags.

Laughter echoed from one corner where some of the crew had already settled into a cluster, digging into boxed lunches. Others wandered toward the catering table or found quiet spots to eat alone.

Somewhere amidst the bustle, Y/N remained unseen.

Inside a dim corridor near the equipment loading area, Y/N crouched beside a stack of vinyl storage cases. His shirt clung slightly to his back with sweat, and the tips of his fingers were sticky from old masking tape. The mid-level staff member—the one who had snapped at him before—had approached him just before the break with a clipboard in hand and a tight voice.

“Label those prop bins. They’re a mess. No one logged what’s inside. Should’ve been done earlier, but since you’ve got free hands…”

The man hadn’t said it was lunchtime. Y/N, eager not to disappoint anyone again—especially after the tension earlier—had simply nodded and gone straight to work.

He peeled, logged, re-taped, and rearranged crates under dim fluorescent lights, too focused to notice how quiet the hallways had become.

Back in the main green room, aespa had gathered with their stylists and a few younger managers, food containers opened before them. Karina sat cross-legged beside Winter, lazily sipping cold soup through a straw while occasionally poking her rice with chopsticks. Across from them, Ningning flipped open her sandwich wrap and took a big bite, cheeks full as she chewed with closed eyes like she was in paradise.

Only Giselle glanced up, then looked around.

“Huh?” she said, swallowing quickly. “Where’s Y/N?”

Karina blinked and sat up straighter. “He’s not eating with the others?”

Ningning looked toward the door. “He was here after soundcheck, right? He left with some of the other staff.”

“I think I saw him talking to that grumpy guy with the clipboard again,” Giselle added, brushing crumbs off her hands.

“Maybe he went to the restroom?” Karina suggested.

The group’s eyes slowly shifted to Harin, who sat a few steps away with her own small lunch set balanced on her lap. She looked up mid-chew, surprised.

“I didn’t assign him anything,” she said after swallowing. “Last task I gave him was… maybe ten, fifteen minutes before the break got announced.”

Karina frowned. “So you haven’t seen him either?”

“No.” Harin closed her food container slowly. “I just assumed he was on a break like the rest of us.”

The girls exchanged glances, a quiet unease settling between them. The room, previously light with the buzz of conversation, seemed to cool slightly.

“…Did he get lost?” Ningning asked, half-joking. “Or maybe he’s asleep somewhere?”

Karina wasn’t smiling. “He doesn’t seem like the type to just wander off.”

Minutes passed. The food was nearly finished. Makeup artists began packing up their kits again. Stylists rose to check hair settings and mic placements. The break would end soon.

But Y/N still hadn’t appeared.

Laughter echoed from one corner where some of the crew had already settled into a cluster, digging into boxed lunches. Others wandered toward the catering table or found quiet spots to eat alone.

Somewhere amidst the bustle, Y/N remained unseen.

“Label those prop bins. They’re a mess. No one logged what’s inside. Should’ve been done earlier, but since you’ve got free hands…”

The man hadn’t said it was lunchtime. Y/N, eager not to disappoint anyone again—especially after the tension earlier—had simply nodded and gone straight to work.

He peeled, logged, re-taped, and rearranged crates under dim fluorescent lights, too focused to notice how quiet the hallways had become.

Only Giselle glanced up, then looked around.

“Huh?” she said, swallowing quickly. “Where’s Y/N?”

Karina blinked and sat up straighter. “He’s not eating with the others?”

Ningning looked toward the door. “He was here after soundcheck, right? He left with some of the other staff.”

“I think I saw him talking to that grumpy guy with the clipboard again,” Giselle added, brushing crumbs off her hands.

“Maybe he went to the restroom?” Karina suggested.

The group’s eyes slowly shifted to Harin, who sat a few steps away with her own small lunch set balanced on her lap. She looked up mid-chew, surprised.

“I didn’t assign him anything,” she said after swallowing. “Last task I gave him was… maybe ten, fifteen minutes before the break got announced.”

Karina frowned. “So you haven’t seen him either?”

“No.” Harin closed her food container slowly. “I just assumed he was on a break like the rest of us.”

The girls exchanged glances, a quiet unease settling between them. The room, previously light with the buzz of conversation, seemed to cool slightly.

“…Did he get lost?” Ningning asked, half-joking. “Or maybe he’s asleep somewhere?”

Karina wasn’t smiling. “He doesn’t seem like the type to just wander off.”

Minutes passed. The food was nearly finished. Makeup artists began packing up their kits again. Stylists rose to check hair settings and mic placements. The break would end soon.

But Y/N still hadn’t appeared.

The lunch break ended with a quiet chime echoing down the hallway speakers. Stylists and managers returned to their positions with clipboards and curling irons in hand. Harin, ever punctual, clapped lightly to get the girls’ attention.

“Alright,” she called. “We’re back on the clock. Quick prep, and then let’s head down for the first recording.”

The members rose one by one, brushing off crumbs and stretching lightly. As Karina disappeared into the wardrobe corner, Ningning stood and whispered to Giselle, “I’ll be back. Just gonna hit the restroom real quick.”

She slipped out before anyone responded, the hallway air cooler and quieter now that it was mostly empty. She rubbed her arms lightly as she walked—something about the building always gave her the chills. As she turned a corner near one of the side corridors, she stopped mid-step.

There he was.

Y/N emerged from the far end, stepping out from a storage area with a folded checklist in his hand and a faint layer of sweat clinging to his temple. His sleeves were rolled up slightly, and though he didn’t look disoriented, there was something about his expression—still, quiet, and just a little too calm—that made her pause.

He didn’t even look surprised to see her.

“Hey,” he said, almost relieved. “Where are you heading?”

Ningning blinked. “Oh, restroom. Just for a bit.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “Ah. That makes sense.” Then, as if realizing something, he added, “By the way… you and the other girls—and the staff, too—you’ve all had lunch already, right?”

Ningning tilted her head, puzzled. “Yeah, we just finished. Everyone else is getting ready again.”

He offered a faint smile and rubbed the back of his neck. “So… it is break time now, right?”

There was a beat of silence.

Ningning’s smile faltered, her expression stiffening. “Um… actually… the break just ended.”

Y/N blinked. “Really?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “We’re all heading back now. Harin-unnie already called us.”

He didn’t say anything at first, eyes dropping slightly as if trying to process the timing. “…Oh. I thought… I thought it was just starting.” He let out a small laugh, dry and brief. “Bad luck, I guess.”

Ningning took a small step forward, glancing behind him. “Where were you just now?”

He shrugged lightly. “Just had something to finish up.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What kind of something?”

“…A staff member asked me to label and sort some props.” He finally admitted it, voice low but not bitter. “One of the guys who was in the green room earlier. Tall. Square jaw. Kind of talks like he’s always half-bothered.”

Ningning’s face hardened. She knew who he meant.

“He told you to do that during lunch?” she asked.

Y/N shook his head slowly. “Didn’t say anything about lunch. Just handed me the task and walked off. I figured I’d eat after.”

Ningning didn’t answer at first. She felt a tiny knot form in her chest—guilt, annoyance, and a hint of protectiveness all rolled together.

She looked away. “Some of them… They’re not great with newbies.”

Y/N waved it off with a small smile. “It’s fine. Not the worst thing to miss.”

She didn’t agree, but didn’t argue either.

Just as he was about to say something else, Ningning turned back toward the restroom and muttered, “Wait—can you stay here for a sec? Just until I’m done?”

He blinked. “Uh, sure. Something wrong?”

She gave a sheepish laugh. “Nothing big. Just… kinda realized I walked here alone. And I don’t like the vibe of these halls.”

He smiled again, this time more warmly. “Got it. I’ll be here.”

She hurried to the restroom around the corner, and a few minutes later returned, adjusting her jacket. He straightened up when he saw her.

“All good?”

She nodded, then added more softly, “Thanks for waiting.”

They started walking back down the hallway side by side. The silence felt a little heavier this time, not awkward—but thoughtful.

After a minute, Ningning asked, “Hey… when that staff gave you the task, you really didn’t know it was lunchtime?”

He looked at her, then shook his head.

“No one told me. I guess I should’ve asked.”

She didn’t know what to say. Something about the way he said it—so calm, so used to it—made her feel even worse.

Ningning didn’t speak again until they reached the door to the green room. She touched the handle, then glanced back at him.

“Next time,” she said, voice barely above a whisper, “just come eat with us. Even if someone tells you to do something.”

He looked surprised, but nodded quietly.

The door opened. The chatter inside greeted them again.

The moment Ningning and Y/N stepped back into the green room, the warmth and noise washed over them again—hairdryers whirring, stylists moving briskly, makeup brushes tapping palettes. Ningning turned to him briefly and gave a small, sincere smile.

“Thanks for waiting.”

Then she was off, heading straight to the makeup corner without another word, joining Karina and Giselle, who were already touching up their faces under bright mirror lights.

Y/N lingered by the door, hands awkwardly tucked into his sides as he scanned the room. Every staff member seemed locked into a rhythm—adjusting wires, carrying equipment, ticking off notes on laminated sheets. No one needed him at the moment.

But his throat was dry. Scratchy, even. The subtle dehydration from skipping lunch and working through break had finally caught up to him.

He looked around, careful not to draw attention. A few people held paper cups or half-empty bottles. Maybe there was a box somewhere—some shared supply.

There. Near the wall, beside the rolling garment racks. A familiar cardboard box with the label for mineral water printed on the side.

He moved casually, as if he had a purpose—like he belonged in the flow of things. Kneeling beside the box, he pulled the flaps open.

Empty.

His chest sank slightly. He let out a quiet breath, but didn't let frustration show on his face. He scanned again—spotting a lone bottle left on a makeup station nearby. He stepped toward it instinctively, but before his hand could even reach, one of the hair stylists picked it up and took a sip.

Gone again.

Before he could think of what to try next, a sharp voice cut through the room.

“Y/N!”

He turned quickly. One of the assistant stage directors gestured toward him with a clipboard.

“Bring the girls to the stage. We’re setting up now.”

Y/N straightened, masking the dryness in his throat behind a professional nod. “Yes, right away.”

He moved toward the members, who were now all standing, grouped together and nearly stage-ready. Stylists gave them final checks—fluffing skirts, adjusting earrings, re-securing mic packs.

He stopped a few steps away, eyes lingering for a second too long.

The four of them stood glowing beneath the fluorescents—Karina adjusting her earring, Winter rolling her neck to loosen tension, Giselle checking her in-ears, Ningning fixing the fold of her top. Polished, poised, radiant.

Y/N blinked, snapping himself back.

Karina noticed him and called out, “Where did you go?”

He offered a light smile. “Just had some stuff to do.”

She nodded, too busy with her earring to press further.

He cleared his throat gently. “Everyone ready?”

A round of soft yeahs followed.

“Alright,” he said, voice stronger now despite the dryness, “let’s head to the stage.”

The five of them moved together—him walking just slightly behind, trying not to think too much about the thirst or the weight still sitting quietly in his chest.

The muffled buzz of the crowd echoed faintly through the thick curtains as aespa arrived at the backstage area. Without needing direction, the girls made their way toward the mic station, where a crew of sound techs stood ready to strap on their transmitters and fit in-ears.

Y/N stopped a few steps behind them, letting them move ahead. They were used to this—every movement, every adjustment, already routine.

He took a small breath and called out just loud enough to carry over the hum of backstage voices, “Good luck out there.”

His voice wasn’t forceful, but it was steady.

Giselle turned and flashed him a grin. Ningning raised her hand in a quiet wave. Karina glanced over her shoulder and gave a small, grateful smile.

Winter didn’t turn.

But she paused.

Just slightly—an imperceptible beat that might’ve gone unnoticed by anyone else. Then she kept walking, her posture rigid, straight into the hands of the mic tech.

Y/N lingered for a second, watching them all from behind.

They looked composed. Effortlessly professional. And for a moment, he didn’t feel like he belonged in that frame. Not really.

He pulled himself away from the thought and turned toward the side, spotting Harin speaking with one of the stage crew managers.

She was halfway through gesturing at a clipboard when he approached. As he stepped beside her, her eyes darted toward him, a flicker of surprise lighting up her expression.

“Hey—where were you?” she asked, concern tucked beneath her professionalism. “You disappeared during the lunch break.”

Y/N hesitated. The truth sat on the tip of his tongue, bitter and unspoken. He didn’t want to cause more tension—didn’t want her to go digging into the way certain staff had treated him, especially after everything earlier.

“I had a task to finish,” he said carefully, trying to sound offhand. “It was something I forgot about from earlier. Figured I’d squeeze it in during the break.”

Harin’s eyebrows scrunched, confused. “But I didn’t give you anything after the lighting notes, and that was—what, forty minutes before lunch?”

Y/N nodded, not missing a beat. “Yeah. That’s the one. I just remembered a part I didn’t do properly, so I went back to fix it.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly, unconvinced, but didn’t press.

Before she could say more, the low thrum of music kicked in from the stage.

The screen beside them came to life with a live feed from the main camera, catching the opening seconds of aespa's intro sequence.

“Ah—we’ll talk later,” she said, attention shifting to the monitor. “Go standby by the right wing in case they need anything.”

Y/N nodded and stepped aside, quietly.

As the girls appeared onscreen, all synchronized movement and confidence, he stood just behind the curtain—unseen, unnoticed, and exactly where he was expected to be.

The crowd’s cheers still echoed faintly behind the stage curtains as aespa took their final bows and waved goodbye to the sea of fans. The energy was electric—buzzing through the air like a current that refused to die down.

As they walked offstage, the girls immediately unhooked their mics, handing them back to the sound crew with practiced motions. Sweat clung to their temples, but their expressions held that glow only performers wore after a successful stage.

Y/N stood a few steps back, watching them with quiet awe. The lights, the synchronized movements, the command they had over the stage—it wasn’t just skill. It was presence.

He didn’t realize how long he had been staring until a light nudge on his arm pulled him back.

“Come on,” Harin said, a half-smile tugging at her lips. “Green room.”

Y/N blinked. “Right. Sorry.” As they walked, he murmured under his breath, just loud enough for Harin to catch: “They really are something else…”

She didn’t say anything, but he noticed the way her smile deepened.

When they reached the green room, the energy changed immediately. Staff members swarmed in, showering the girls with congratulations and praise.

“That was amazing out there.”

“You killed it!”

“Seriously—best stage of the night.”

The girls offered polite bows and tired smiles, eventually retreating to the comfort of the couches like it was a finish line they’d been racing toward all day. Within seconds, Ningning had kicked off her shoes, Winter had slumped into a cushion, and Giselle was already asking for her phone.

Karina let herself melt into the corner seat, exhaling like she’d been holding her breath since before the opening VCR.

Y/N turned to Harin, lowering his voice. “Is there anything else for now?”

“Nothing for the next twenty minutes,” she replied, checking her watch. “After that, the girls will prep for the post-show segment.”

He gave a quick nod. “Alright. I’ll head to the restroom real quick.”

“Don’t vanish again,” Harin added with a light but knowing tone.

Y/N gave a faint smile and slipped out of the room.

The restroom hallway was cooler, quieter—an escape from the chaos. Y/N took care of what he needed to, but as he exited the stall and walked toward the sink, something in his body wavered. His step faltered near the entrance. The walls felt like they tilted for a second, and he reached out, steadying himself on the corner.

A soft breath escaped his lips.

Lightheaded… again. His muscles ached. His arms were sore. His whole body felt like it had been running on fumes since morning.

He leaned against the cold tile for a moment, closing his eyes and drawing in a slow, measured breath. The silence in this place—it wasn’t peaceful, but it was the closest thing to calm he’d had all day.

When the spell finally passed, he pushed himself off the wall and turned back toward the green room.

But something caught his eye.

Down the hallway, near the emergency exit, a small stainless-steel drinking fountain stood out like a beacon. He walked toward it—slow, hesitant steps at first, as if it might vanish if he moved too fast.

He pressed the button. The thin arc of water rose. No hesitation—he leaned down and drank.

The water was lukewarm. Metallic. Not ideal.

But to him, it tasted like heaven.

He closed his eyes as he drank—just for a few seconds.

Not because he was tired, or dehydrated, or overworked.

But because in this moment, in this quiet hallway with no one watching, it felt like the only place in the world he was allowed to exhale.

The last sip of water lingered on his tongue, and for a moment, Y/N just stood there—one hand still resting on the cool metal of the fountain. A low hum buzzed through the hallway lights above him, paired only with the faintest sounds of distant movement.

With a soft breath, he straightened up. Time to head back.

Just as he turned, a soft echo of footsteps tapped against the tile from the other end of the hallway.

He froze.

Rounding the corner came Winter—alone, with her phone in hand, her eyes briefly glancing up as their paths crossed.

She paused, just for a moment.

Y/N blinked. “Oh—uh, hey.”

Winter didn’t answer. She gave a small, almost unreadable smile, and nodded once before walking right past him, her steps quiet and unfazed.

As she moved by, the faint scent of something floral brushed past—something clean and faintly familiar, maybe her perfume or a lingering trace from their earlier prep.

He turned slightly, watching her walk away. The moment was brief, but oddly hollow.

There was no greeting, no comment—no usual spark in her expression.

He didn’t take offense.

Just confusion.

Maybe she was distracted. Maybe something was on her mind.

He let out a short breath through his nose, gave a slight shrug to no one in particular, and started his way back toward the green room, his footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor behind her.

—

The door clicked shut softly behind him.

Y/N stepped into the green room, where the energy had shifted entirely. The earlier buzz was gone. In its place was the quiet fatigue that always came after a long stage — the girls were scattered around the space, slipping off their earpieces, sipping from water bottles, softly chatting among themselves in fragments too gentle to catch.

No one looked his way.

He moved to the side and busied himself with anything he could find — folding discarded towels, coiling mic cables, lining up water bottles that were already half empty. His hands moved automatically, but his mind still lingered on Winter’s awkward reaction. Her avoidance. The look in her eyes when he tried to speak.

From across the room, Karina glanced at him through the mirror.

He caught the look but pretended not to. Her expression was unreadable anyway—half-blank, half-something-else. He busied himself checking if their backup batteries were packed.

“Y/N,” came Harin’s voice from behind him, quiet enough that it didn’t startle. “Van’s ready.”

He turned toward her. “All right.”

One by one, the girls began gathering their things. Light bags slung over shoulders. Phones checked. Water bottles capped.

Karina was the first to rise. She didn’t say a word but gave a small stretch and yawn as she walked past Y/N, her eyes flickering in his direction—brief, quick, then gone.

Giselle followed next, mumbling something in English under her breath, too fast to catch.

Ningning, last to get up, tugged on Winter’s sleeve. “Unnie, let’s go.”

Winter barely nodded, then rose and quietly trailed behind the others. She passed by Y/N without a word. No glare, no smile. Just… blank.

Y/N watched their backs as they filed out, his lips parting slightly like he was about to say something—maybe “Good job again,” or “Take care,” or maybe just “Bye”—but the moment passed. The words stuck.

He let out a small breath and reached for the door.

Harin gave him a light nudge on the arm. “You did well. Not perfect,” she said, teasing softly, “but well.”

Y/N smiled, a little unsure. “Thanks…”

As they stepped into the hallway and the green room door clicked shut behind them, the hum of noise from the venue was quieter now—more distant. The world was calming down.

—

The van hummed quietly as Karina and Winter were the first to arrive. Karina slid into the seat, tired but still alert. She gazed out the window for a moment before her eyes drifted over to Winter, who was hunched over her phone, typing away with a quick rhythm, clearly focused on something or someone.

Karina let out a soft sigh, her mind drifting back to today—and yesterday. She hadn’t really gotten the chance to properly assess everything, the way she'd acted around Y/N. There had been some awkwardness, sure. A bit of shyness, maybe even hesitation. But... it wasn’t like her to be so distant. She’d tried to talk to him, slowly breaking down the barrier, but she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was still off between him and the rest of them.

She’d known Winter for years. Since their trainee days, in fact. Winter had always been hard to read, but Karina knew her better than anyone. And now, she could tell there was something bothering Winter about Y/N.

Karina shifted in her seat, her eyes scanning Winter carefully before calling out her name softly.

“Winter.”

Winter glanced up from her phone, her gaze meeting Karina’s for the first time in a while. There was something guarded in her eyes, but she didn’t look away.

“What do you think of the new manager?” Karina asked, her voice careful, as if testing the waters. “Y/N, I mean.”

Winter was silent for a moment, her eyes shifting towards her feet. She hesitated, as if weighing her words before responding, her tone flat. “Hmm... he’s... okay, I think. I don’t know.”

Karina raised an eyebrow, a slight frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. Winter’s response wasn’t exactly surprising, but it was definitely... vague. “That’s it?” Karina asked, her curiosity piqued. She had expected a little more than that.

Winter shrugged her shoulders, a nonchalant gesture that almost felt like a barrier. “I don’t really care, to be honest.”

The casualness of Winter’s tone struck Karina, but she wasn’t done yet. There had to be more to it. Something deeper. She leaned forward slightly, her voice softer now, almost coaxing. “Is something wrong with him? Like... is he bothering you or anyone else?”

Winter released a deep sigh, her eyes dropping to the floor. She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. “I don’t know,” she murmured, the words coming out slower now. “Don’t you feel weird about him? I mean... the way he does his work, it feels like he doesn’t even have the qualifications. Like he’s just... faking it. And the way he acts—don’t you think he’s trying to gain sympathy, like he’s looking for pity from all of us?”

The words hung in the air, sharp and unexpected. Karina froze, stunned by the intensity of Winter’s confession. Her brow furrowed as she tried to process it. “What... what do you mean by that?” Karina asked, her voice a little shaky, not quite sure how to react.

Winter flinched slightly, as if realizing the weight of what she had said. Her shoulders tensed, and she quickly turned away, looking out the window. “Nev—never mind...” she murmured, her voice trailing off. “Forget what I said. I... I was just tired, okay?”

Karina stared at Winter, unsure of how to respond. The words that had come from Winter’s mouth seemed out of place—too raw, too blunt. Karina wanted to press her, to ask for clarification, but the moment was gone, replaced by the quiet hum of the van.

She opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by the sound of the others arriving. Ningning and Giselle were the first to step out of the building, followed by Y/N and Harin. Winter, still silent, quickly readjusted in her seat, her posture stiff as if trying to retreat into herself.

Karina swallowed her words, her thoughts still swirling. But she let it go—for now.

—

On the way to the apartment, the van hummed quietly as Y/N drove, the rhythmic sound of the engine filling the silence between them. The city lights flickered past the windows, casting soft glows against the dark sky.

Y/N glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing the girls relaxing, some still catching their breath from the performance, others silently scrolling through their phones. He cleared his throat lightly, attempting to ease the quiet. "You girls tired? I mean, I’d guess that’s an obvious answer," he said with a small chuckle.

Karina, who had been looking out the window, turned her head toward him. "I mean... it's been a long day. But we’ll survive. You look more tired than us, though," she teased lightly.

Y/N gave a small, modest smile. "It's nothing, really. Just... a new job," he replied, steering the van through another intersection. "I’ll get used to it."

Giselle, who had been staring out of the window, suddenly shifted in her seat and looked up, catching Y/N’s eye through the rearview mirror. "How’s the first day going for you?" she asked, her voice playful but with a hint of curiosity.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, thinking about the chaos of the day, the mix of excitement and nerves. "It’s... overwhelming, but in a good way, I guess? I didn’t think managing idols would be so... chaotic," he said with a half-smile, trying to make light of the stress.

Giselle snorted softly, clearly amused. "Welcome to our world," she said, her tone light, though there was a trace of fondness in her voice. "We’re full of surprises."

Y/N laughed lightly, a bit self-conscious. "I can already tell. But it’s good. I’ll get the hang of it. If I don’t, you guys can just give me a call, right?"

Karina chuckled at that. "Yeah, we’ll give you some pointers. At least we know you're trying. A lot of other managers... not so much," she added, her voice lighter.

Y/N appreciated the hint of encouragement, though he wasn’t sure if she was joking or serious. "I’ll try not to disappoint, then."

There was a brief pause before Giselle added with a mischievous grin, "Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you keep up. If not, we might have to tie a leash on you."

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the idea, shaking his head. "I think I’ll be fine without the leash."

Karina snickered from the front. "We’ll see about that. We move fast, you know."

Y/N gave a small chuckle, trying to match her teasing tone. "I’ll try my best to keep up. No leash necessary."

The conversation seemed to settle into an easier rhythm after that. The mood was lighter now, but still tentative, as if they were all testing the waters, trying to find a balance between being professional and easing into a more casual camaraderie. It wasn’t quite there yet, but it was a start.

As the city passed by and the van rolled closer to the apartment, the conversation trailed off, but the atmosphere felt a little less stiff. It wasn’t the same kind of ease that came with close friends, but it was a small step—a crack in the ice between them.

Y/N just smiled quietly to himself, grateful for the small, unexpected moments of connection.

Arriving at the dorm, the van slowly rolled into the parking lot, the lights from the building casting a welcoming glow. Y/N parked the van and stepped out, sliding open the door for the girls. One by one, they hopped out, offering polite bows toward him.

"You did well today," Karina said with a smile, her tone light but sincere.

Y/N gave a small chuckle, bowing his head slightly in return. "Thanks. I’ll do my best."

Karina added with a teasing grin, "Yeah. Keep it up, and maybe you can become the leader of all the staff here."

Y/N chuckled and shook his head. "I don’t think I’m quite ready for that level yet."

He gave another bow, the small gesture showing his appreciation for their words. "Have a good rest and make sure to rest properly. Who knows, maybe tomorrow will be worse... or better... I don’t look at your schedule, so don’t believe everything I say."

The girls chuckled in response, the playful exchange easing the tension of the day.

Winter was the last to hop off, but she paused at the door. Y/N noticed her stop, her gaze fixed for a moment before she seemed to snap out of it and look at him.

"Need something?" he asked, a slight curiosity in his voice.

Winter blinked, as if coming out of a trance, then shook her head, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "No, it’s nothing," she muttered, bowing her head lightly. "Good night," she said before turning and heading toward the building.

The other girls waved goodnight to Harin as they made their way to the lobby, and Harin waved back, a soft smile on her face.

Y/N closed the van door and, just as he was about to slide into the driver’s seat, a voice suddenly called out to him.

"Y/N!" Ningning’s voice rang out, and he turned to see her speed-walking back toward him, her expression a little frantic. She rummaged through her bag before pulling something out.

He raised an eyebrow. "What’s this?"

Without missing a beat, Ningning handed him the object—a chocolate bar. "Here," she said with a small, flat tone. "It’s a chocolate bar. Duh."

Y/N looked at the chocolate bar, a bit taken aback. "I know it’s a chocolate bar," he replied, trying to make sense of her sudden gesture. "But... what’s this supposed to mean?"

Ningning grinned at him, a playful gleam in her eyes. "You didn’t eat yet, right? I know it’s not much, and it probably won’t even satiate your hunger, but take this as a reward for your good job today."

Y/N was caught off guard by her kindness, his eyes softening slightly. He opened his mouth to say something, but words caught in his throat for a moment. "Wow... I mean... thank you..."

He took the chocolate bar from her hand, still a little stunned by the gesture.

"You really don’t have to do this," he stammered. "I literally did nothing on my first job, just... went here and there."

Ningning shook her head, her smile still warm. "Don’t sell yourself short," she said with a hint of seriousness in her voice. "I’m good at reading people. And I can tell you’re pretty rare. A genuine guy."

Y/N was even more surprised by her words, his heart feeling a little lighter. "Thank you... again..."

There was a brief pause, and he looked at her with a small, sincere smile. "I’ll make sure to repay you for this."

Ningning’s eyes sparkled as she smiled back at him. "Repay by keeping up your good performance. Like today."

Y/N chuckled softly, nodding. "I’ll do my best. Promise."

"You should get going," Y/N said with a gentle, caring tone. "You’re tired. You need a really good rest. Make sure to sleep well."

Y/N nodded, his smile widening. "You too, Y/N."

With one last smile, Ningning waved goodbye, her small figure turning as she made her way toward the building, her footsteps light and quick. Y/N watched her for a moment before he climbed into the van, the weight of the day finally settling in. As he started the engine, he felt a little bit lighter, a little less out of place.

The streets were quieter now, the city winding down under the cloak of late night. The inside of the van was dim, the dashboard glowing faintly as Y/N kept both hands on the wheel, eyes flicking between the road ahead and the navigation. Harin sat beside him, one leg crossed over the other, scrolling lazily through her phone, but she occasionally glanced his way.

“You did well today,” she said finally, her voice calm but sincere.

Y/N gave a small smile, the fatigue behind it impossible to hide. “Thanks. Honestly, I’m just glad I didn’t crash the van or misplace anyone.”

Harin smirked. “You’re aiming for survival, not excellence?”

“Let’s be real,” he muttered, “it’s day one. Survival is excellence.”

She let out a small laugh. “Fair enough.”

There was a pause before she asked, “What did you think of the girls?”

Y/N’s hands gripped the wheel a little tighter. “They were… nice. Actually nicer than I expected. But maybe that’s just them being polite. I mean, it’s not like I did anything to earn their trust yet.”

Harin looked at him for a moment. “You really think they’re just being polite?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged lightly, eyes still on the road. “Maybe they’re just trying to be nice to the new guy. Or maybe they feel sorry for me or something.”

“If that were the case,” she said, “it’d still be impressive. I’ve seen staff go months without the girls saying more than the bare minimum to them. But today? Karina joked with you. Giselle bantered. Winter seemed unusually soft. And Ningning…” Harin tilted her head. “She gave you chocolate, didn’t she?”

Y/N glanced at her, caught off guard. “How’d you—”

“I have eyes,” she said casually. “I saw her run back to you.”

He went quiet.

“I’m not saying they love you already,” she added, “but this is a better start than most people ever get. Don’t downplay that.”

A moment passed before Y/N nodded, quietly taking her words in. He didn’t know what it meant yet, but hearing it from someone who knew them well… it mattered.

Eventually, they pulled into the company’s underground garage. Y/N parked the van slowly, making sure it was perfectly aligned before cutting the engine. The hum died down, replaced by a still silence. He leaned back in his seat, letting out a long breath. Every part of him ached.

Harin reached for her bag but paused. “Hey, are you available tomorrow?”

He blinked, as if remembering something. “Ah—wait.” He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded, slightly crumpled sheet of paper. “My class schedule. For this semester.”

She took it, unfolding it under the overhead light of the van. Her eyes scanned the page quickly, brow furrowing slightly. “You still haven’t gotten the phone fixed?”

He gave a sheepish nod, scratching the back of his neck. “I… haven’t had the chance. Doesn’t even turn on anymore.” His hand hovered over his jacket pocket for a beat, then dropped. “I just keep it around out of habit. Guess I’m too used to it.”

She let out a breath, not angry, but clearly troubled. “Y/N… I know you told me about this yesterday. But today really proved it’s a serious issue. There were so many moments when I needed to reach you, and I just couldn’t. It wasn’t just inconvenient—it was dangerous. What if something had gone wrong with the girls and I couldn’t get through to you?”

“I know,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to figure something out. Maybe find a second-hand one somewhere, or... I don’t know.”

“Just… don’t put it off too long,” she said, folding the schedule and tucking it into her bag. “I understand you’re in a tough spot. But in this job, communication isn’t optional. It’s survival.”

Her eyes paused at the schedule. “So you’re not available at all for the next two days?”

He nodded. “They’re my worst days. Completely packed. After that, I have afternoon classes. Mornings and evenings should be okay.”

Harin sighed softly. “It’s not ideal, especially this early. Evaluation-wise… it might count against you.”

“I understand,” he replied, voice quiet but firm. “I’ll do better when I’m back.”

She folded the schedule again and tucked it into her bag. “Then rest up. And fix that phone, Y/N. Trust me—it’s gonna be a nightmare for you if you don’t.”

He bowed his head slightly. “Thanks… for today. For guiding me through everything.”

She nodded and gave a short wave before walking off.

The van now empty, Y/N climbed out and started making his way to the nearest bus stop. The city had grown colder in the hours since sunset, and the streets were mostly deserted except for the occasional passing car or couple walking home. The weight in his body had finally caught up with him. His shoulders sagged, legs slightly heavy with each step.

On the bus, he sat near the window, leaning his head against the cold glass. His eyes drifted to the passing buildings and glowing storefronts, but he wasn’t really looking. His mind kept rewinding the day in pieces—first meeting Harin, the silent stares from the girls at the start, the mess of navigating his role, the small laughs they shared in the van, and finally, Ningning’s quiet act of kindness.

That chocolate bar still sat in his bag.

He hadn’t eaten anything all day. He hadn’t even realized it until now—his stomach tight and hollow, the kind of hunger that made everything feel dull.

When the bus reached the university stop, he stepped out and walked past the main gate. His dorm was only a short walk away, but he found himself slowing near the convenience store at the corner. The windows glowed warmly. Inside, shelves lined with ramen cups and triangle kimbap looked like little luxuries.

A college student inside was slurping noodles at the table, face flushed from warmth. It smelled good even from here.

Y/N stood outside the door, unmoving.

It would be so easy. Just a quick tap of his card. Just one meal.

But he shook his head.

He remembered the promise he made to himself—after that phone call with his mother a few nights ago, when he realized how bad things were getting. The scholarship allowance wasn’t much, but it had to stretch. If he added his salary on top and saved every single won, there was a chance—just maybe—that he could help fund his father’s surgery.

And to do that, there were no luxuries allowed.

He had decided: only two meals a week. The bare minimum. Ramen if needed, crackers if lucky. It wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t even smart. But it was the only way he could think of to fight back against how powerless he felt.

If his father had once gone without meals to feed him, then this—this was nothing.

He turned away from the store and kept walking, heart heavy but determined.

Back in his dorm, he didn’t bother turning the lights on. He tossed his bag on the chair, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed face-first onto the bed. The mattress creaked beneath him. His stomach growled again, louder this time, but he didn’t flinch.

He reached toward the desk, hand brushing around until his fingers landed on something smooth and wrapped in thin foil.

The chocolate bar.

He sat up slowly, holding it in his hands.

A stupid little thing.

But to him, it wasn’t just chocolate. It was something he hadn’t expected—kindness, maybe. Recognition. A small reward that told him maybe he wasn’t invisible.

He unwrapped it carefully and took a bite. It was sweet, cheap, slightly melted from the day—but it tasted like a small victory.

He smiled, the first real one of the night, without even realizing it.

Maybe it was a sign.

Maybe not.

But right now, it was enough.

...

To be continued...

Notes:

Thank you once again for spending your time to read my story.

This is probably the longest chapter that I have wrote so far, since I feel like I want to fit everything here. But hey, it kinda work (maybe).

And finally... Y/N finally met the girls...yay..

This chapter honestly, is more to task heavy chapter (dont know if I describe it correctly), some people may like it, some people may not.

But hey, we finally got some Aespa interactions. I know its not much, but it is a start. So more to come in the future.

Thank you once again for all of your likes, votes, reblog, and the comments. It is highly appreciated.

See you in the next chapter.

#aespa fanfiction #aespa x male reader #aespa x reader #giselle x male reader #karina x male reader #ningning x male reader #winter x male reader

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streamafterlaughter · 1 day ago

Text

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter XIX: Could You Blame Me?

songs for this chapter: nineteen tegan and sara (covered by hayley williams), nineteen by movements, your graduation by modern baseball, wishing (you) well by born without bones

chapter tags: ANGST GO CRAZY AHHH, hurt/no comfort (yet), ex best friends, rage!!!!, described symptoms of depression (not eating, over sleeping, isolation, crying, more anger), flashback/time jumps, barely proofread sorryyyyy. please let me know if i missed anything! | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | REMINDER: THIS FIC IS RATED EXPLICIT. 18+ mdni.

a/n: uhhhh here u go here’s some lore for u! enjoy. this chapter was so difficult to write bc i had the ideas but i had to make it Make Sense and that is way harder than it sounds. back to regularly scheduled storytelling shortly! thanks for reading!

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, my tumblr and ao3 are the only account that feature and contain this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere

taglist (open!): @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality @munsonburn3r @justalotoffanfiction @bl0ssomanddie @eddiesgirl1944 @longlivedelusion @aliensfeltmyjoy

–

Five Years Ago

The August sun beats down on the world outside, but you’re stuck within your own rain cloud, blankets pulled over your head despite the heat. You haven’t moved since you got home yesterday. Obviously, Chris had lost his trial, after two weeks of back and forth, they had come to the decision. He would have lost anyway, you know that, but remembering the series of events makes your blood boil.

Eddie had taken the stand, given a recount of the day’s events in excruciating detail. You had watched in horror as he spoke, stoic as he was cross examined, even claiming Chris had convinced him to participate. Eddie, who you had considered your best friend until about a year ago, when he’d decided your older brother was more the type of person he wanted to be around.

“Bee, honey? You want some breakfast?” Your mother has cracked open your bedroom door, poking her head in as if approaching a wounded animal.

“No.” Your response is muffled by your pillows, but you hear her sigh, so you know she’d heard you.

“Okay. Try to eat something soon, though. Please.” You know it’s not fair, shutting her out like this. Her pain is probably one million times worse, watching her son be sent away as her daughter drifts in and out of consciousness with the grief. You can only imagine her inner monologue these last few weeks, trying to keep it together for your sake while you break down. But it’s not enough for you to peel the sheets back and leave the bed. Not yet.

Robin and Steve have each called you several times since yesterday, causing you to turn your phone off entirely. You know everyone’s talking about it, considering this trial is the biggest thing to happen in Hawkins since the lab explosion when your parents were in high school, and you can’t bear to scroll your feeds right now. Your head hurts from the crying, and your bed sheets are soaked through with your tears. Maybe it’s not fair wallowing like this, but it doesn’t feel right to continue like nothing’s wrong.

The bigger pain, though, comes from the fact that Eddie hasn’t called at all. It’s been a year, and he hasn’t let himself be alone in the same room as you, let alone reply to your texts. It’s like you’ve had a limb ripped off, and you’re just expected to carry on like nothing’s changed.

–

It’s a full week before you can even leave your house, and it still hurts like hell. You clock the looks from your neighbors, the ones of pity and disgust, like somehow you’d had a hand in your brother’s bad decisions. Mothers shield their kids as you walk by, just trying to order your coffee without bursting into tears because the cashier’s name is Chris. Once he’s handed you your coffee. You take a seat by the window, cracking open the book you’d been trying to read for months now without much luck.

“Hey, kiddo.” The voice is gruff, gravelly with age. You’ve only been sitting here a few minutes, your hopes of being approached shattered when you realize he’s talking to you.

“Chief Hopper?” You look up at the aging man, brown hair sprinkled with gray streaks.

“Ah, just call me Jim. Haven’t been chief in a long time. May I?” He points to the seat opposite you, and you nod, unsure of how to tell him you’d rather be alone. “I’m sorry about your brother, Bee. I wish I had been there.”

“It’s alright.” You’re not sure what else to say.

“No, it’s not. We both know they’d been after Chris since he was a kid. Eddie, too.” He’s hunched over the small table, like he’s afraid of being overheard.

“Look, Ch- Jim. I don’t really wanna talk about what could have been done about my brother going to jail. I have spent the last year wondering if I could have stopped it, or if anyone else could have. It doesn’t solve anything.” You don’t mean to sound so harsh, but you’re tired of having the whole town shoving their noses where they don’t belong.

“Understood. If you or your mom need anything, though, feel free to call me. Deal?”

You sigh. “Sure, okay.”

He opens his mouth to speak again, but his phone starts ringing in his chest pocket. “Sorry, I gotta take this real quick.” He gets up from his seat and walks out of the cafe, once again leaving you alone to dwell on all the what-ifs. Unfortunately, Hopper takes his call directly on the other side of the massive window you’re sitting next to, and you can hear every word on his side of the conversation.

“Kid, I don’t know what to tell you. You made the choice. There’s only so much I can do to keep you both out of a cell. He didn’t wanna listen, you did. That’s the difference.”

He paces as whoever’s on the other line replies, his face worn and tired.

“No, I don’t think it was what you said. They’d made their case already, and it wasn’t really a chance of whether he was going or not, but how long he’d go for.” More pacing.

“Yeah, I talked to her. She’s alright, considering. Definitely pissed off, and I don’t blame her.”

You decide, before that conversation is over, to get up and leave. You can figure out who he’s talking to, what he’s talking about, rather easily. However, you have no desire to wait around and hear if you’re right, so you shove yourself from the seat and leave the cafe without letting Hopper know.

–

You get in your car and drive. You have no destination in mind, no plans of where to escape to or how long you’ll be out, so you just tell your mother you’re going to Robin’s for the night.

“Okay, sweetie. Call me if you need anything?”

“Yup.” You sling your bag over your shoulder and slam the door behind you. Once you’re in your car, down the street, and eventually out of Hawkins, you turn your music as loud as it will go, and scream until your throat is raw. Lyrics you’d never want to relate to now feeling like you’d written them yourself, and the breeze is warm on your tear stained face. After what must have been hours weaving through the lanes as you shrieked up and down the interstate, you still end up where you always do. Taking the road back through town and into the woods, concrete turns to unpaved gravel the deeper in you get.

Lover’s Lake is always crowded in the summer, but everyone must be home by now. It’s getting dark, and the mosquitos are coming out in swarms. As you exit your car, you hear the hum of crickets and cicadas, but there’s something else, an unexpected tune being played nearby. It’s definitely not playing from a speaker, the music’s too clear; the strum of an acoustic guitar. Something deep inside your chest tells you exactly what you’re going to find if you follow it.

Obviously, you follow it anyway, passing the lake down a footpath made from years of being stomped on. Eventually you turn a corner, finding the warm glow that matches the sound of the guitar. Your steps come to a halt as you continue listening, waiting for the voice to accompany the strings. You already know what it will sound like, how the words will leave his mouth and go straight to your brain, leaving no room for a logical thought beyond Holy shit.

“Too old to learn new tricks I need a new fix

I need a stimulus, I need a paycheck

And a brand new deck and some new kicks,”

You slide down the tree you’ve hidden behind, careful not to make a sound even as the bark scratches your back through your thin t-shirt. You hadn’t heard Eddie sing in a year, possibly even longer at this point. Corroded Coffin announced a hiatus shortly after Chris’s arrest, and you hadn’t listened to any of their music since, let alone spoken to Eddie at all. His voice had disappeared from your life, along with the rest of him. Once you’d graduated, it was like he had forgotten about you. He’d barely called, and every time he had been to your house or the bar was to see Chris, and he never stayed to chat.

Now, listening to him sing, you lose your composure, stifling the sobs with your fist, tears you somehow still have to shed streaming down your cheeks. You have to leave. Now. After a few more agonizing seconds while you gather your breath, you finally stand up and prepare to bolt back from where you came, but you’re sabotaged by a stray branch in your path, cracking as you step directly on it. The strumming stops, and you’re frozen where you stand as you wait to be caught spying.

“Hello?” Eddie calls out into the settling darkness, and you cringe. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.” His voice cracks, like he’s been crying too, and it makes you want to turn around, walk right up to him like you could have a year ago, and wrap yourself around him. You could cry together, then figure out what to do. You could get your best friend back.

But that is not your choice to make; he’s the one that left you alone. He made that decision for both of you, and you can’t be the one to fix that, especially now, so you take another step towards the path without answering him. He doesn’t start playing again, and the glowing of the fire disappears, sizzling as Eddie puts it out. Before you even bother to check if he’s following you, you’re sprinting back to your car. You hadn’t noticed it coming in– you’d been too frazzled to even lock your car– but Eddie’s van is parked directly on the other side of the dirt lot. You can’t help slapping your hand to your forehead as you mumble, “So fuckin’ stupid!” yanking your driver’s side door open and slamming it behind you.

You’d left your phone in your car on purpose, knowing eventually Robin, Steve, and your mom would catch on that you’re not with any of them. Of course, you’d been right.

bobbins: missed call (27) stevie: missed call (26) mama: missed call (34) bobbins: i swear to god im gonna call jim stevie: bee, please pick up. We’re all worried sick mama: baby, please give me a call back…. I cant lose both my babies…!!

You groan, tapping the screen to call your mom back as you start your car.

“Bee?!” She shouts when she picks up, barely letting it ring.

“Yeah, mom. I’m okay.”

“Honey, I was worried sick! Robin came over to check on you, she said you never had plans today. We called everyone we know trying to find you!”

“Mom, relax. I went for a drive. I’m at Lover’s Lake right now, I can be home in half an hour.”

“Why didn’t you call us back?”

You sigh. “Turned my phone off, wanted to be alone.”

You can hear your mother mirror your own sadness, and it stings. “Okay, honey. I understand. Just, please don’t scare us like that again, okay? Usually I don’t need to worry about you so much, but we’re all kinda…” She trails off.

“I know. I’m sorry, I should have told you the truth. I didn’t really know where I was going ‘til I got there.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. Get home safe.”

“Love you, Mama.”

“Love you.”

–

Steve’s car is parked on the street in front of your house when you pull into the driveway. The sun is gone, along with any semblance of energy you’d had today. Seeing your home, and knowing Chris won’t be behind its front door, is not something you see yourself getting used to any time soon.

You cross the threshold into the front room, taking off your shoes, now caked in the dirt of your earlier travels.

“Bee? That you?” Robin’s here, too.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Your words come out shaky, barely audible if Robin hadn’t already been five feet away.

“Hi, Beebs.” She wraps herself around you, and you let yourself melt into the hug. Another pair of arms wraps around you from behind, and you settle into the weight of your best friends.

“I’m sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to scare you.” The apology is muffled by Robin’s shoulder, but you feel them tighten around you, showing they’d heard you.

–

Steve’s on the phone in your kitchen the next morning. You stop before entering, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Yeah, she’s home. Said she was in the woods or something. No, she’s fine. Why?” You can hear the anxiety buzzing through the line, but you can’t make out who it belongs to. “Look, you could have–” He’s cut off. “Oh, whatever, dude.” And with that, He’s hanging up, slamming his cell on the counter.

“Who was that?” You ask, like you’ve only just arrived downstairs.

“What? No one. Dustin.” He gives you the fakest smile you’ve ever seen.

“I don’t have the energy to ask you why you’re lying to me right now.” You shake your head, walking past him to pour yourself a cup of coffee. “Just know, I know you’re lying.”

He nods, like he’s willing to accept it if it means you won’t ask him again. And you don’t. “You didn’t have to sleep here, by the way. I know your bed is much more comfortable than my couch.”

“Yeah, just didn’t feel like driving Robin home, then back to my house on the other side of town.”

You nod. “Right, yeah. You didn’t have–”

“Bee, I don’t have to do anything. I know! You’ve proven that for the past week and a half when you disappeared from our lives!”

“I did not! Forgive me for missing my brother, how dare I grieve in a way that doesn’t suit you!” You don’t mean it, but it’s too late to take it back.

“You’re not grieving, Bee. You’re disappearing. You look awful, I know for a fact you’ve barely eaten since you got the trial date. You haven’t been out with us in months, even before we’d known for sure what was going to happen.” His words click together suddenly, and you realize exactly what he’s saying. You’d done what Eddie had to you. You’d ghosted your friends without an explanation, and hurt them in a way you’d never meant to.

“Shit, Steve. I’m so sorry.”

His face softens as he examines yours. “No, no. I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair.”

“No,” You sniffle, “That was more than fair. You’re right, I’ve been a shitty friend. There’s no excuse.” You leave your spot across the kitchen, approaching Steve with your arms open. He returns the hug, wrapping his own arms around your shoulders as yours find his waist.

“Are we hugging again?” You hear Robin’s bare feet patter across your kitchen floor, then her weight on yours as she joins the huddle.

–

Present Day

Your head’s fuzzy and throbbing when you wake up. The apartment is relatively tidy, and you thank god you’d been able to do it while drunk instead of hungover. You realize you’d somehow made it to Steve’s bed, but Steve is nowhere to be found; the other side of the bed is instead occupied by a head of messy curls cascading down pale, inked shoulders. Panicked, you recall the events of last night. Unable to, you peek under the covers. Eddie’s wearing pants, and you’re fully dressed. You don’t feel any different, and you’re sure you would if you’d–

“You awake?” He interrupts your thoughts before they can get too dirty.

“Yeah, just woke up. Why are you in here?”

“Because I had to carry you. Again.”

“Fuck!” You groan, and wince at the sound of your own voice. “What did I do?”

He chuckles, turning to face you. “Honestly? Nothing. Was kinda cute, actually.”

“Edward Munson if you don’t tell me what happened right this second I’ll–,”

–”

“You’ll what? Bite me?”

“Wh– No? Why would I do that?”

“He yanks his free arm from under the comforter. “Because you did already.” And sure enough, there are teeth marks etched into the flesh of his forearm. “I was super drunk, though, I barely felt it.”

“Why the fuck did I bite you?”

“I asked you to.”

“Now I’m confused.”

“Listen, I was not in the mind to take care of you last night. Clearly, we were fucking around, because,” He nods to your shoulder, “It looks like I got you back.”

Confused, you bring your opposite hand to your shoulder, and feel the bumps and ridges of what must be Eddie’s own teeth. “What the fuck?” You find yourself asking this question a lot lately.

Eddie bursts out laughing, and you can’t help but join him. It’s absolutely absurd, but it makes sense to you anyway. You’d both always been pretty hands on with each other before, well, everything, and you’d both consumed an insane amount of alcohol last night. It only tracks that you’d slip back into old habits.

“Are we gonna have to explain this to them?” You jerk your thumb at the door.

“God, I really fuckin’ hope not.” He snickers, eyes drifting from your face to your shoulder. “Kinda wish I remembered doin’ it, though.” He says it mostly to himself, like he’s trying to remember what you’d tasted like. You find yourself wondering the same thing, if he’d made a noise as you’d sunken your teeth in, if he’d thrown his head back in pain or something else. You try to remember what it had felt like, but everything’s too far away.

He clears his throat, and you snap your eyes back to his face. “Anyway, breakfast?”

You nod, feeling the warmth in your face start to subside.

“Ahem.” Eddie clears his throat as the two of you step into the kitchen. “Whatcha whisperin’ about?” Steve and Robin had clearly been in the middle of gossiping at the kitchen counter as you and Eddie approach, each snatching a breakfast sandwich wrapped in foil that Steve had already made the trip for.

“Secrets don’t make friends, y’know!” You tease, sliding onto the stool next to Robin. Eddie takes the one opposite you, unwrapping his own sandwich.

“Uh,” Steve looks to Robin for help, but she only shakes her head. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever. I’ll get it out of her later.” You snicker, taking a bite of your greasy sausage-egg-and-cheese. Turns out, it’s exactly what you needed to remember the events of last night, the alcohol being absorbed by the food entering your stomach.

–

Last Night

You stumble around, picking up stray bottles and cans as the music continues thudding through surround sound speakers, accompanied by someone’s drunken vocals. Eddie follows with a garbage bag, giggling as you try to collect more recyclables in your already full arms.

“Quit laughin’ and help me!” You whine, dropping a Miller Lite can on the floor.

You go to pick it up, but Eddie’s just as quick, fingers brushing yours as he grips the can in his fist. “You just told me to help. Now let me.” For being drunk, he’s still awfully put together. Unfortunately, you cannot relate, a mess of giggles and buzzing skin as Eddie looks at you with his stupid, crooked smile.

“Stop it.” The command comes out weak, shy, and you barely recognize yourself.

“Stop what?”

“I don’t know. Bein’ cute. Given’ me cute aggression.”

“Cute aggression?” He repeats, shaking his head. “Don’t think I know that one.”

“It’s like, y’know when you see a really cute baby? Or a puppy, or Ethel! Your cat! And you just wanna, like, eat it?”

“Bee, sweetheart, I think that’s just you.”

“No, you know what I’m talking about.”

“So, you wanna eat me? Right now?” He smirks, like he’s got you stumped.

But you only shrug. “Maybe.” His eyes widen, and you cackle. “Maybe not eat eat. But I definitely wanna bite you.”

“Okay… Go ahead.”

You raise your eyebrows at his challenge. “Excuse me?”

“You can bite me. Here,” He holds out his arm. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“I get to bite you back.”

Normally, you’d stop it here. You’d laugh the whole thing off, and change the subject. Normally, you’re not six drinks deep at the best party of the year, though. “Okay.”

“Seriously?”

You nod. “Why not?” And before he can retract the offer, you lean forward and sink your teeth directly into the flesh of his forearm. Not too hard, not for too long, but just enough to satisfy this weird, drunken urge to take a bite of your estranged friend. He winces, but more so in shock than in pain, breathing heavily through his nose.

You pull back, smacking your lips together playfully. “Little salty.”

He snorts. “Whatever, your turn.” He reaches for your arm, but you stop him. “Wait.”

“You can’t chicken out now!” He accuses.

“First of all, I could if I really wanted to. But I’m not. Just… Not the arm.”

“Okay… Then where?”

You tug the fabric of your dress off your shoulder and tap the top. “Here. I’ll be able to hide it better.” Really, you just want him to bite your neck, but this is as close as you’ll get.

“Um, right. Okay.” Suddenly, he’s less cocky, less confident as he approaches you. You toss your head to the side, giving him the room to place his head. You can feel his breath, hot on your skin before finally sinking his teeth into your skin. The noise that slips from your throat is embarrassing, and completely out of your control: a breathy moan poorly disguised with a yelp of falsified pain. He doesn’t fall for it, though, snickering as you exhale heavily, the sharpness of his teeth sending a fire through your veins the alcohol can’t stave off.

After what you’d describe as an eternity, you’re free from his mouth, the only reminder being a dull throbbing in your shoulder.

“Well?” Your voice squeaks as you ask the question, but Eddie has the grace not to point it out.

“Sweet as I imagined.” He winks, picking up the trash bag he must have dropped. Your knees wobble as he makes his way past you, shoulder brushing your newly marked one as he collects the rest of the trash from the kitchen.

“Jesus Christ.” You mumble, hands sliding down your face, willing the blush to fade.

–

Present Day:

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie’s gone home, and you’re pacing the living room floor as Robin and Steve exchange knowing, conniving smiles. “And you both watched the whole thing? Without stopping me?!”

Robin had just finished filling in your black spots, and you feel like you’re about to throw up.

“Well, I mean, what was I supposed to do?”

“Literally anything!” It’s not her fault, but who else are you supposed to rely on in your drunken times of need? “You could’ve interrupted, woulda saved me an immense amount of embarrassment right now.”

She snickers, and you have to fight the urge to glare at her. “Okay, next time I’ll make sure to intervene.” “There better not be a fucking next time!” You exclaim, borderline hysterical. “He’s gonna think he has a chance with me or something.”

“Right… and that’s bad?”

This time, you do glare at her. “Yes, it’s bad. Very bad.”

“Of course. Obviously.” Robin rolls her eyes at you before returning her attention to the television, leaving you alone to spiral.

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