It was always like this. The two of you in your own little worlds, even though you were only a few feet away from each other.

You would be sitting on the large black leather sofa, shoes kicked off and legs crossed under. You would always read. Be it academic books, notes from school, or one of your favorite novels. You wanted to be as comfortable as possible. You would thumb through the pages of your reading material, estimating if you had just enough to read for the time you were here. When you notice there weren’t many pages left, you’d slow your pace. At times you would stretch your legs out and fully laid on the sofa. Realizing what you were doing, you would curl back up into a slightly less homey position. You were always at peace and you found yourself being productive like this.

The other end of the room was a different story.

He’d either be hunched down, scribbling furiously in a small, lined notebook. His workspace looked like the control room of a spaceship. Foreign looking machines (he’d call them instruments) were on the table. He’d press numerous buttons at once and the speakers hum various tunes. At times, he’d straighten up and face multiple computer monitors. Lines and bars fill the screen. His eyes dart from one part of the screen to another. He would grab at the mouse, click a few times and type on his keyboard. He’d hit the enter button every now and again and a melody from an instrument would start and stop abruptly.

This went on a lot of times you’ve been in the studio. The leader wasn’t too keen on the idea of an outsider being here. He was informed about the set-up almost immediately, making no attempt to hide that you both were planning to hang out here. Surprisingly enough, the leader agreed as long as none of their songs prematurely leaked to the public. He laughed at the sentiment, saying “I trust her. She’d never do that.”

You would remember those words every time.

For some odd reason, today was a bit different.

He seemed a lot more stressed than usual. In the corner of your eye, you saw him tapping his fingers on his work table while he ran his other hand through his brown hair.

You don’t usually look at him, for fear that you might get the urge to go over and ask what was wrong. You might want to place your chin on his shoulder and hold him for a while. For the many times you stayed here with him, you promised yourself never to bother him especially if he was in his own world. This time, you looked up from the book you were reading and stared at his direction.

He was slumped over his desk. Pieces of crumpled paper littered at his feet. You heard faint groans of exasperation.

“Hey, you okay there?” you called out softly. It was gentle enough so you wouldn’t startle him but loud enough so he’d hear you.

All of a sudden, he stood up and took quick strides toward you. His head hung low. You could not help but just stare.

“What’s wrong?” You asked again

You were sitting up on one end of the couch. He plopped down on the other. He looked really exhausted, you thought. It was like you’re seeing him for the first time today. His chocolate hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot, and hints of dark circles forming under them. He seems thinner and a lot paler than before. He sat there in silence, staring blankly at your book. Or your hands. You started to worry.

“Hey…” you began. You placed your feet on the floor hesitantly and try to sit up straighter. Like a rag doll, he lies down lazily on the corner of the couch. He shut his eyes and suddenly raised his arms. He looked like a cute little zombie. The thought made you giggle.

“Come here.” he said. He opened his eyes and looked at you. His command, gentle yet firm.

You were surprised and felt the blood rush to your face. What? Did he want a hug? He was never this affectionate before.

“Huh?” you asked, feeling a bit dumb

He sighed and dropped his arms, as if he was too tired to keep them up. Eventually, he made his way over to your side of the couch, and grabbed one of your arms. You started pull back tentatively.

“What are you doing?” you asked in a huff. Your felt your heart pound in your chest. Your palms began to sweat and your throat felt dry. You blinked a few times, wondering if you are in a dream. His grip on your hands told you otherwise.

“I just need this.”

You relaxed a bit. He sensed your hesitation lift and gently pulled you to him. He leaned back on the sofa as your head leaned on his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head. You could just faintly hear his heartbeat. The rise and fall of his chest slowed down a bit. One of his arms encircled you, keeping you in place, the other was slung over his face. One of his legs dangled at the edge of the sofa and was resting on the floor, the other was on the sofa, caging you in. You curled up in the best position you can. You’re surprised you aren’t hyperventilating. Your heartbeat got significantly faster, but after a while, slowed to its normal pace. The mere thought that only a few layers of clothes were the only things keeping you from touching him completely was enough to drive you insane. But the desire to touch him did not come. You were content with this, him beneath you, the rhythm of your breathing matching his. Hearing his heart beating in his chest.

You stayed like this for a while. You were afraid you’d fall asleep so you shuffle a bit. He seems surprised by the sudden movement. You peeked up at him and you find him looking down at you too. You giggled a bit and he smiled shyly in return.

His smiles, so rarely given, always caught you off guard. Your breath hitches a bit, and you asked “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

His smile doesn’t fade. You locked eyes for a while. After what seemed hours of looking into each other’s eyes, he finally spoke, “I’m too stressed. This comeback album is a bit...too much.”

You nodded and tried to hug him tighter, a silent response telling him, “it’s okay. I’m here.”

“You looked so peaceful just reading here. I need peace. Just for a while.” He adds

The thought made you smile. “Is this why you keep me around? To keep you from going crazy?” You challenged him. You twisted your body so you can see his face better. He looked confused at your words but eventually smiles.

“Huh? But you drive me crazy. Won’t that be counterproductive?”

The cheesiness of his words surprised you. He caught your reaction and he started laughing heartily. You laughed along, got up and away from his embrace. You slapped at his arms, still laughing. You imitated him curling his hands when he hears his other members doing aegyo, or when they do embarassing things.

Seeing you imitate him just made him laugh even more, his normally pale cheeks turning redder and redder by the second. You laughed for a while and you both sighed at the same time.

Tears welled up in your eyes from all the laughter. He saw this and he reached out to wipe them away. The contact made you jump. His hands were cold against your flushed cheeks. He cradled your face in his hand and smiled contently.

“Thank you.” He flashed another rare smile. “And to answer your question, I keep you around for a lot of reasons. Thank you for staying.”

You nodded and replied, “No problem. I like being here.”

He dropped his hand and stood up. He stretched and stood in place for a while. In a rush of movement, he suddenly dipped and kissed the top of your head.

He then ran back to his work table and sat on his swivel chair, the tips of his ears a little red.