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Great Minds Think Alike

SFW Fanfiction

Fandom: BTS 방탄소년단

Characters: reader (gender-neutral), Suga/Min Yoongi

Type: oneshot

Word Count: 4.0k

Genre: mild angst, smut-free, WAFF, RPF, IC

Rating: 13+

Warning: mildly heavy themes such as pressure/stress, expectations, life struggles, and parental issues

A/N: this started as a YouTube comment under this video. it was originally just the first section and intended to be a cute little prelude to the video, but other users asked if I could continue the story, so here you go :) this is the first story I've ever written for the public eye, which due to hesitation combined with college is why it took so long as some of you know, so I’m really sorry for the long wait! enjoy 💝 (btw, the video makes a really good audio background for the story 😉)

* * * * *

You've been working all day in your studio. Being a producer for BigHit Entertainment is fun and all, but you've been having a creative block for a while and it's hard to focus on making music. It doesn't help that you've also had a lot on your mind lately, as there are a handful of things going on in your personal life right now. You get discontented as you look at the progress you've made so far and decide it's not a good amount for a day's worth of work. You should stay a bit late tonight. But what good would that do if you can't seem to think of anything anyway? Maybe a break will refresh your mind.

You make a stop at the restroom before refilling your plastic drink container at a water fountain. It's pitch dark outside and through the window you can see the millions of Seoul's city lights. Suddenly you hear the soft swishing of sandals on the tile floors and you turn around to see none other than Suga. He goes to a refrigerator that's across the room from you and grabs his favorite drink. As he cracks open the lid, he looks over at you.

"You're not going home yet?" he asks.

"Nah, I'm working late."

Suga nods his head at your response and calmly takes a sip of his drink. He then makes his way toward the hallway that you both came from, but you stop him.

"Hey, uh... work has been slow lately. Can I chill in your studio with you?"

He seems a bit surprised as he stares blankly at you for a couple seconds. "In my studio?"

You two have only passed by each other in the company building a few times and made small talk maybe once. You don't know why you asked him such a question when you barely know each other. Maybe you just want to know what being in the "Genius Lab" is like.

"Yeah. I don't know," you reply, "I just thought maybe it would clear my head, y'know? You can keep working like you usually do, I won't bother you."

He takes another sip before nodding his head again. "Okay." He starts walking down the hallway and you follow.

*

Why did he agree so easily? Suga is one of the most reclusive individuals in this company. Min Yoongi, rapper and producer of the Bulletproof Boy Scouts, "the guy with no emotion or energy." He barely lets his own group members in, let alone anyone else who works here. Is it because you're both producers? Maybe he relates to the "staying late" kind of thing, or the fact that production has been slow and a change of scenery is needed. Your coworkers have told you before that once he gets into work mode, he tends to stay here until way late into the night. Or, maybe he just wants to get to know you since you're the newly hired producer everyone was talking about. You’ve learned pretty fast that word seems to go around here quicker than rumors in high school.

After walking down a couple hallways, Suga stops at a frosted glass door with a number lock on it. He punches in the passcode while you look in another direction. When he opens the door, there’s... another glass door right behind it. For soundproofing? Once that door is open, you're surprised to see a charming room with a full-fledged studio. It's nothing like your quaint little office room, which looks more like a teenager stuffed their childhood PC and desk into a closet with some soundboards and a guitar. Suga's studio is decked out with multiple desks, shelves, what you recognize as nice music equipment, and a couch. Papers lay in a pile next to a bottle of wine and a glass. A sports jersey with the number 93 and "Suga" on it is pulled over the back of an office chair. Figures of various characters decorate the room. You feel like you just walked into the college dorm room of a swaggy rich-kid music major.

Suga holds the second door open and watches while you walk in behind him and close the first. The number lock outside makes a noise shortly after the door is closed. The two of you shuffle inside and you take a seat on the couch next to the door, noticing the wine on his desk. Doesn't alcohol make you sleepy instead of keeping you awake? He seems to need an energy boost, although he always looks tired when you see him. One of the many joys of having a die-hard passion: your work being a higher priority to you than basic human needs such as sleep. He caps his drink and puts it behind his computer keyboard before turning his chair and slumping into it. He takes off his hat and ruffles the hair he didn't bother to do anything to today.

"I really like your studio," you say while eyeing around. You take in all of the nice details, from the decal stickers on his air conditioner to the cute little figurines everywhere. He seems to like bears, evident by the many Kumamon and Kaws figures. He also seems to like sports due to the jersey on his chair and a figurine of a basketball player behind his computer monitor.

"Thanks," he says to your compliment. "Are you hungry? I keep snacks in here, if you want any." He points to a shelf with various small packages of food sitting in a pile. You grab a Kit Kat and thank him, which earns a hum in reply. He puts his hat back on and swivels to his computer monitor, which has a MIDI project in progress. You can't help but scan over the interface and pick up on all of the details of the song he's producing. MIDI is kinda your thing, too. You wonder what he's writing about. It's probably a deep and poetic message. You've listened to some of the tracks he’s produced and written before and was pleasantly surprised by how talented he is. He seems to understand how life works and knows how to put ideas into words in a way that leaves you wondering how deep and articulate a person can be. You get a familiar urge to talk all about life and gush over music with him, but you remember your promise that you wouldn't bother him and decide to just sit back and listen to the sounds of his studio.

A fairly long time goes by before either of you say anything. His studio has a great atmosphere. No wonder he's able to lock himself up in here for so many hours every day. His AC is on high, necessary for Seoul's hot summer nights. His keyboard makes nice clicking sounds. He rolls to and fro in his chair between the desks and a synthesizer keyboard, typing, playing, writing, working away on his late-night song. He's pretty quiet, save an occasional clearing of his throat or groaning while stretching. You notice how relaxed and graceful his movements are. He's like a cat. A cat who makes songs.

* *

After you observe this mysterious person for a while, your mind starts to wander. All of the things that you kept stuffed in the back of your busy mind during this whole hiring and moving process recently have caught up to your conscience and dragged you into deep thought. You didn't just push them as far back as they would go because you needed to focus on other things and get stuff done; they're negative thoughts that you know can affect you a lot if you think about them too much. Your mind wanders back to your past, the life you knew before this. You remember the fights you would have with your parents, who just didn't understand why you would want to "throw away" your future and become a musician instead of having a normal, secure job like the rest of your family. Music never really ran in the family until you came along. Most kids played sports or video games, or watched TV, or heck, even read books. Not you. You just had to have a musical instrument for your 10th birthday, after years of begging for one and your parents finally giving in to your persistent wish. It was a new world for you the day you finally got to hold it in your arms; a beautiful, shiny, classic-style, 6-string acoustic guitar that smelled of wood and the soft interior of the case it came with. Hours of playing every day, with you alone in your bedroom, happily strumming your new treasure until your fingertips had indentations and cracks in them from the tough wire strings. Your mother would shake her head as she popped your blisters over the bathroom sink and dressed them with bandages after washing clean. You learned every technique and trick using the dirt-old computer in the living room that everyone in the house used. Laggy YouTube videos and tutorials from various websites were your music teachers. And you had a knack for it, too. It got to the point where your time playing was restricted by your parents to make you go play outside and spend time with other kids like a normal child. When you moved on to middle school, your parents bought you your own laptop so that you could have something to do your school projects on without it lagging and crashing all the time, and that's when you discovered MIDI. Your life from then on was making songs with the software that you begged your parents for, who only agreed to buy it for you with the promise that it wouldn’t get in the way of school or your other responsibilities.

And then came high school. And the nagging. Oh, the constant nagging about your grades, chores, college, your future career, adult life, and the hobby that's taking over your life and why can't you just be a good child and do what your parents want for your future. Your grades were perfectly fine, straight A's even. You didn't understand why no matter how hard you worked and how long you studied, your parents weren't happy. You poured your heart and soul into every assignment, never got into trouble, helped around the house whenever you had the chance, obeyed your parents as perfectly as you could... Why couldn't they accept the fact that your music didn't hinder your life at all and it meant so much to you, that you were happiest doing this one harmless activity? Music was in your blood. It gave you a reason to get up in the morning and distracted you from the immense pressure you felt from your parents and responsibilities, if only for a small amount of time. You couldn't help but feel like something was wrong with you and that you never did good enough, even though you were an excellent student and a talented musician. Is this so wrong? Is it really a bad thing to pursue music as a career? Should you follow your dreams, or are your parents right and you're just being delusional? You were even pretty popular at school. Everyone knew you as the smart kid that makes really good music with a computer program. You've been asked countless times by others if they can listen to your tracks and when your first mixtape is coming out. The cool kids would invite you to sit with them at lunch because they were convinced you would become the next big pop artist. Your guitar covers of popular songs, and especially your original compositions, always blew up on your Instagram page, with your close friends hyping you up in all of the comment sections. "It's that music you're always making," your parents would say. "It won't get you anywhere in life. You need to focus on more important things." All of your friends got good scholarships for being talented athletes, actors, writers, for winning top places at science fairs, and you just--

Suddenly a song starts to play through Suga's speakers and you startle because of the new (and kind of loud) noise. It's a sweet, upbeat song with a female's voice singing. Not what you would expect a rapper like Suga to listen to, but hey, no judgment here. He periodically pauses it and plays it again, probably listening to every little detail the song has to offer. Producers tend to do that. At some point he leans back in his chair, crosses his fingers over his midsection, and stares at his monitor, slowly turning his chair from left to right with the tips of his feet. You'd recognize that pose anywhere. That's the position of someone who's used all of the ideas they had in their brain at that moment and now they have to think of more.

"What’s your song about?" you ask after a while of him being in the same position. He abruptly turns to look at you with the same blank expression he always has. Did he forget you were there? You also remember a little too late that you had promised you would leave him alone.

"Uh..." He takes a minute to find his words, smacking his lips and making an oddly cute slurping noise. "It's a more personal track than most. About struggles I’ve faced in my past."

You give him a knowing hum and slowly nod your head. Nothing you haven't heard of before. With a long history of having an interest in music, you’ve experienced more than your fair share of music artists pouring their hearts out through song. You wonder what kind of things he's been through. With someone as chill and mysterious as him, you never really know.

"Those are the best kind of songs," you say with a smile. "They're always so meaningful." Suga gives a small smile back.

"Yeah. Can't go wrong with a personal touch." He looks at his monitor for a moment and then turns his chair to face you. "Do you want to listen? I could use another producer's input."

"Oh, yes please," you say. With that, Suga turns back to his computer, drags the bar to the beginning of the track, and presses play.

* * *

His song starts with a slow but heavy rhythm. You pick up every little sound from the instrumental, tasting every individual detail that hits your ears like a professional taste-tester identifying the many overlapping flavors of a dish. Each note makes a burst of color in your mind, painting a unique and beautiful mural that can only be understood by hearing the song as intuitively as your highly music-trained ears are doing right now. He's already recorded a vocal lead, which matches the heavy tone of the song. Your focus on the instrumental doesn't falter as you accept another thing to add to the blooming artwork in your head: Suga's voice. His tone, his gruff vocal effects, his breathing techniques, his flow, his choice of words. They all flow together to tell a story, one that puts Suga's deepest thoughts and feelings on full display. You feel like a projector inside of his brain is playing a film of his thinking process out in the open, where you have a perfect view.

All of a sudden, you forget to judge his song anymore and just process the lyrics, which hit you right in the heart, verse after verse. His words are filled with hurt, confusion, anger, and fear. You almost can't believe that someone as apparently calm and collected as Suga has all of these thoughts that he so rawly expressed through his rap. Although everyone has painful parts of their lives, and what better way for them to be expressed than through song?

The song builds in intensity towards the end, finishing with exceptionally heavy-hitting lines, the instrumental ending as soon as the last word is delivered and its last breath fading out shortly after. Suga had been watching you from time to time, scanning your face for any expression. After the song ends, your eyes meet with his. "Did you... Those lyrics are true? Did those things really happen?"

He gives you a nod and hums a simple "mhmm". He then shifts in his chair, straightening his posture and leaning forward on his thighs with his forearms. "I wanted to make a song that was more genuine than the typical songs you hear on the radio. Those songs... Sure, they're about real things, like being in love and breakups. But those topics have been used so much that it’s all you hear about anymore." He’s very articulate and slow when he speaks. "You never hear about the darker things because everyone is expected to be all hush-hush about it. Everyone gets uncomfortable when someone so much as just alludes to it. I want to change that." He notices your expression before quickly adding, "Was it too much?"

You guess your face held more concern or shock -- you aren't sure which exactly -- than you intended it to. "Oh! No, I was just a little surprised, that's all. Whenever I see you or hear about you, you seem like such an unbothered person. I didn’t expect you to have dealt with things of that nature," you point in the general direction of his computer. "It wasn't too much. I think it's good to express those things too, no matter how rough or off-putting they might seem. They make songs much more powerful. I’m really impressed you want to do something like that, and so publicly too." South Korea isn’t the most advanced country when it comes to social aspects. In fact, you would say it’s one of the world’s societies with the strictest social standards. "As for the music quality... I thought it was amazing! I love your choice of instruments, and the build-up was seamless. Your flow was really nice. You have good breath control and vocal techniques; I can tell you put a lot of work into perfecting it. Overall, I thought it was a really good song."

Suga gives a big smile, showing off his small white teeth and pink gums. You've barely seen him crack a smile until now, so it looks like he's literally glowing to you. "I'm glad you like it."

You think for a moment before asking, "You don't express yourself much other than with music, do you?"

"Nah, not really." Suga scratches the back of his neck. "I’m not good at expressing my feelings, except when I make music. So... music is kinda my outlet."

If you thought Suga was mysterious before, he's definitely got your curiosity going now. He seems like he has so much underneath his cool exterior. If you were surprised by his true thoughts in one 4-minute song, who knows what else is locked inside that brain of his? You want to know everything about this person sitting in front of you, the things he’s experienced so far, what seeing through his eyes is like, what inspires and motivates him. You carefully push further. "Can I ask more about the lyrics?"

* * * *

"...When I told them I wanted to make music, they heavily disapproved. They had a really hard time when they were growing up and in adulthood, and they didn’t want their child to face the same struggles, so they wanted me to have a stable career instead." Suga describes his relationship with his parents when he was young, and it sounds eerily similar to yours. "I started making music when I was 13. That was when I decided that it was the path I wanted to take. I didn't care about school anymore since my life was in music, so I lazed through it and barely passed all of my classes. Honestly, I’m surprised I graduated." He describes the odd jobs he worked while he was still in the process of getting his music career started, his experiences with being scammed out of his work and not even being able to afford basic needs, and the underground rap scene. "I wanted to be a producer for Bighit, but they told me I should audition to be an idol instead. So... here I am now."

It makes sense now. He is the way he is because he’s had one of the roughest handfuls of experiences you’ve heard from someone you knew personally. One’s developmental years being full of betrayal and misunderstanding would make anyone shut everyone out and build emotional walls.

You repay his openness by telling him about yourself and your past. What it was like growing up in a household similar to his, always doing the best you can to try and prove yourself, going to college since it’s sooo important to secure your future with a degree (although you majored in music despite your parents’ disapproval), and working odd jobs and getting scholarships to be able to afford it. You joined a program that sent you to Seoul to study abroad, the unofficial "city of music". The program also had an internship integration, which you used to become an intern at BigHit Entertainment in their production team. They were so impressed with you that they kept in touch through the rest of your college process, and as soon as you finished your degree and were now qualified, they hired you as an official producer. They even helped you find housing here, a neat little studio apartment.

After sharing your mutual experiences and understanding for each other, one burning question still lingered in your mind: Why? Why did he let you in so easily? You’ve only just met today, and he basically took his heart out and gave it to you to hold. Your curiosity gets the better of you. "So... Can I ask why you decided to tell me all this? And why you let me in here in the first place? I mean-- other than the fact that I asked you to... but still, you could have said no and it would have been totally fine, and honestly I thought that’s what you would say. You seem like the kind of person that’s not very open with people, especially people you’ve just met."

He seems to think about what you said for a second, and you realize you may have said something wrong and quickly correct yourself. "Not that that’s a bad thing! I have friends like that back home, it’s understandable. They’re just like that. They’re super cool people."

He gives a light chuckle. "No no, I know what you mean. I get that a lot, actually. Lots of people think I’m a cold person. I guess it makes sense, with me not being very sociable." He looks away and scratches behind his ear for a second. "Uh... I just had a feeling. There was something about you, y’know? And I’ve also had times where I needed to clear my head. Wanted to just be with someone and not talk. I tend to be really intuitive about other people, so I wanted to get to know you better. Turns out, I was right. You’re as cool of a person as I thought you would be." A small smile spreads across his face and makes his cheeks look like dumplings.

You laugh at that. "A feeling, huh? Do we have similar personalities?" You poke a little fun at him. "Are you some kind of sorcerer or a fortune teller? Or are we both just geniuses and your genius radar was going off?"

He laughs and then shrugs. "I’ll go with the genius part. I guess great minds think alike."

* * * * *

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