♡ Tags: Fluff, scolding, casual romance.
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You leaned back in your chair, arms stretching above your head as a tired but satisfied sigh escaped your lips, the last of your producer paperwork finally complete.
Sunlight streamed lazily through the window, casting warm, golden stripes across your desk. The afternoon had ripened into that quiet hour where everything felt just a little slower, a little softer. You blinked away the heaviness in your eyes, realizing how long you'd been sitting in the same spot.
Deciding it was time to clean up, you began straightening your scattered notes and folders. As you reached under a stack near the edge of your desk, your fingers brushed against something unexpectedly flat and stiff.
You tilted your head and carefully slid it out, it was a letter. Unmarked, plain, and just slightly creased from being tucked away. You turned it over curiously, but there was no name, no seal, nothing to give away who it was from.
Your brows lifted in quiet surprise as a small smile tugged at your lips. Wait... could this be one of those letters? Like in the cheesy romance stories where someone confesses their feelings through a secret note?
You held it up to the sunlight, heart skipping just a little. Is this really meant for me...?
"You've been staring at that letter for ages, Y/n..."
You glanced up from the mysterious envelope, only to meet the mildly unimpressed expression of your boyfriend, Isara Mao. A playful grin curled on your lips as you held up the letter teasingly.
“Fufu, looks like I have a secret admirer~ Even producers can have fans, y’know.”
Mao huffed as he loosened his tie, giving you a side glance that was somewhere between amused and exasperated. “You’re acting like it’s a love letter, but you haven’t even opened it yet.” He pointed at the untouched flap.
With a dramatic flair, you brought the letter up to hide your smirk, eyes peeking over it mischievously. “Mmm… But wouldn’t it be more fun to read it together? With my boyfriend?”
That one word hit its mark.
Mao froze midmotion, ears turning a vibrant shade of red before he quickly turned his back to you, clearly flustered. “Geez…” he muttered, defeated, and plopped down on the bed with a sigh.
You grinned in triumph, the victory sweet and satisfying.
“You really know how to mess with me…”
You giggled softly, setting the letter in hand as you shifted closer, crawling across the bed until you were beside him. “Maybe,” you whispered, voice light, “but you’re cute when you’re flustered.”
Mao let out a long sigh, finally turning to face you with a defeated smile. “You’re lucky I like you.”
You leaned your head against his shoulder, content with the warmth between you both. “I know,” you murmured, eyes fluttering shut for a moment, “but I like you more.”
You finally decided to open the letter, carefully breaking the neat seal as a soft, floral scent drifted into the air.
“Lavender…?” you murmured, bringing it closer to your nose.
Mao, now lounging beside you on the bed, sniffed lightly in the air and tilted his head. “Seems like someone really put effort into this.”
You gave a thoughtful nod, unfolding the paper with gentle fingers. The handwriting inside was neat, delicate, yet clearly written with a sense of urgency. Your eyes scanned over the lines, your curiosity slowly turning into surprise.
To the producer who shines more brightly than any spotlight,
You probably don’t know who I am. I’ve admired you from afar for what feels like forever now. I know you’re always busy, always working hard behind the scenes, but even from the shadows, you shine.
I don’t mean just your talent or how organized you are during events…
I mean you.
The way you carry yourself with quiet grace, how your eyes light up when you're focused, how you smile gently even when you're tired… You’re beautiful. Genuinely, effortlessly beautiful.
Sometimes I wonder if you know how mesmerizing you are. The way your (h/c) hair falls over your shoulders when you’re concentrating, or how your (e/c) eyes seem to hold a whole galaxy when you’re deep in thought, it’s unfair, honestly. You make it so hard not to fall for you.
So… if it’s not too sudden, and if you don’t already have someone important in your heart…
Would you meet me at the top of school tomorrow after classes?
—Someone who’s been looking your way for a long time now.
Mao let out a low whistle, clearly impressed, as you sat frozen, eyes still scanning the letter in disbelief. He tilted his head, watching you curiously, trying to read your expression.
"Somehow... I don't know..." you mumbled, blinking a few times before glancing at him, cheeks tinged pink. "Should I feel embarrassed?"
That caught him off guard. Mao blinked once—then let out a quiet, breathless laugh, shoulders shaking as he tried to hold it in.
"Why... are you asking me that?" he said between chuckles, raising an eyebrow with playful disbelief.
You pouted slightly, still clutching the letter in your hands. “Well, it’s just... no one’s ever written something like that to me before. It’s kind of flattering. And weird. But mostly flattering.”
Mao leaned back on his hands, giving you a look that was somewhere between amused and mock-offended. “Flattering, huh? Should I be worried?” His lips quirked into a crooked grin, but you could tell there was a hint of real curiosity behind the teasing.
You rolled your eyes, crawling a little closer to him on the bed. “No, you absolute dummy. I’m yours. Obviously.”
He let out a content sigh at that, but then leaned in, his voice dropping just enough to send a small shiver down your spine. “You’d better be. ‘Cause if someone else thinks they can have you just by writing a sweet letter and spraying it with perfume, they’ve clearly never seen the way you look when you’re focused on your work… or how cute you get when you're sleepy… or—”
“Okay, okay!” you laughed, pushing lightly at his shoulder, flustered but grinning. “No need to get poetic about it now.”
Mao laughed too, letting himself fall back onto the bed dramatically. “I’m just saying… he’s got taste, sure. But he’s late to the party.”
You looked down at the letter again, now resting loosely in your lap, the scent of lavender still faintly lingering.
“…Do you think I should go meet him?” you asked, half joking, but still curious.
Mao shot up like a spring, his expression scandalized. “What?!”
You burst into laughter, leaning forward to nudge his side. “I’m kidding! Kidding! I just meant—maybe I should go and, I don’t know, gently tell him I’m already taken. Like a responsible, emotionally mature adult.”
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “And I’m just supposed to let my super-pretty producer girlfriend go meet a lovesick admirer on top the school alone?”
You smirked. “What, are you volunteering to come with me, jealous boyfriend?”
“…I might,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “Just in case he needs a reminder.”
You giggled again and leaned your head on his shoulder, voice softening. “Don’t worry. I already made my choice, remember?”
He relaxed a little, his eyes soft as they lingered on you.
“Yeah… I remember,” he said gently.
But as the silence settled, Mao's gaze drifted down to the letter still in your lap. You were smiling at it, an innocent, almost dreamy expression that made you look like a girl about to walk into her first confession. Something about that pulled uncomfortably at his chest.
Without a word, he shifted closer and wrapped his arms around your waist from the side, pulling you gently toward him. The sudden warmth made you jump a little.
“Huh? What’s this about?” you asked, twisting slightly to look at him.
“What’s what?” Mao replied, feigning innocence, though his voice betrayed a hint of something else, something a little sulky.
You raised a brow at him, smirking knowingly as you noticed how his face was buried in your shoulder. “You’re definitely doing something on purpose.”
“Maybe I am,” he murmured, then lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes. “Maybe I’m not.”
His face was suddenly close, too close and the intensity in his gaze made your heart flutter. You leaned back instinctively, your cheeks burning. “So... is that a yes or a no?” you mumbled, flustered.
Mao’s eyes narrowed playfully, and his grin turned a little smug. “You’re the one who said you’re mine, remember? I’m just making sure you don’t forget.”
You covered your face with one hand, groaning through a shy laugh. “Ugh, you’re such a handful…”
“But I’m your handful,” he added, tugging you gently back into his arms with a chuckle.
You didn’t protest this time. Letting yourself melt into him, the letter now long forgotten, you simply rested in the comfort of his embrace—because the warmth of his arms said more than words ever could.
But just when you thought things were settling down, Mao suddenly shifted, gently pulling you down with him until you were lying across his chest. The motion made you blink in surprise, your head lifting slightly as you raised an eyebrow at him.
“…What now?” you asked, your tone half-suspicious, half-amused.
Mao simply smiled, far too smug for someone pretending to be innocent, and reached up to softly pat your hair. “What? Can’t I just hold my girlfriend?” he replied, putting deliberate emphasis on the last word.
The moment that word left his lips, you felt your face heat up instantly. You weren’t sure if it was the way he said it so casually—or the way he was clearly enjoying how flustered you got—but either way, you knew he was doing this on purpose.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” you muttered, burying your face against his shirt to hide the red blooming across your cheeks.
You felt his chest shake with quiet laughter. “Maybe I am,” he whispered, echoing his earlier words with that same teasing lilt. “But you’re cute when you’re like this.”
You let out a soft groan, tapping his shoulder with a playful pout. “You’re so annoying sometimes,” you muttered, though the fond smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.
Mao just laughed, his voice a low, warm rumble that vibrated in his chest. Without warning, he gently shifted you off him, only to pull you close again, this time lying side by side. He reached over to set the letter down on the bedside table, as if it no longer mattered. “Let’s just stay like this for a while,” he murmured, voice softer now, like a secret only meant for the two of you.
You couldn’t help but giggle, fingers reaching up to tug the little yellow clip from his hair. “You’re so jealous, it’s adorable.”
He rolled his eyes, but the light dusting of pink across his cheeks gave him away. “Shut up and get some rest,” he grumbled, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
“Yes, yes, Mr. Popular Idol,” you teased again, twirling his hair clip in your fingers like a prize.
“Mmhm,” he mumbled, tightening his arms around you. “Keep talking and I’m never letting you go.”
You laughed quietly, nestling even closer, your noses just barely brushing. His warmth, his scent, the way his heartbeat matched yours—everything about this moment felt like a warm cup of tea on a rainy day.
And as you lay there, wrapped up in his arms, the world felt so quiet. So gentle. So safe.
The sun was slowly sinking beyond the horizon, casting golden streaks across the rooftop as you stood there, the breeze gently ruffling your hair. In front of you stood the boy who had written the lavender scented letter, his hands fidgeting nervously, fingers tangled together as he avoided your gaze.
It had started earlier in class, when you were just about to pack up for the day. He’d approached you quietly, almost hesitantly, and asked if he could speak to you in private. You already had a good idea of what this was about.
You followed him up to the rooftop, your phone buzzing slightly in your pocket as you secretly texted Mao and Ritsu a quick update “It’s the letter guy. Rooftop. Wish me luck.”
Now, here you were. The boy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, cheeks flushed red, clearly working up the courage to say something. You offered a polite smile, though a nervous sweatdrop slid down the side of your face.
This was the part you weren’t looking forward to, waiting for him to speak, just so you could gently let him down. You didn’t like hurting anyone, especially someone who had put their heart on the line.
Still, your thoughts drifted momentarily to Mao’s goofy grin and the way he had hugged you so tightly earlier. The warmth of that memory gave you strength. You took a quiet breath, bracing yourself with kindness.
His voice pulled you back to the moment. You looked up to see him standing a little closer now, his fingers fidgeting nervously at his sides.
“I’m really happy that you read my letter!” he blurted out, cheeks flushed. “Really, really happy!”
You offered a small, polite smile, nodding gently. “Thank you… It was a lovely letter.”
Encouraged, he straightened up and took a shaky breath. You could already feel where this was going, and despite the lightness in the air, a soft weight settled on your chest.
Then, he bowed low, hand extended awkwardly but earnestly toward you.
“Please… be my girlfriend, Y/n!”
You paused for a second, then let out a quiet sigh—more of sympathy than surprise. With a soft expression, you mirrored a small bow of your own, folding your hands in front of you.
“I’m really flattered,” you began gently, voice steady but kind. “And I think you’re very brave for saying this. But… I don’t think I’m in a place right now to be in a relationship.”
You gave him a small, apologetic smile. “There’s a lot on my plate right now, with work and responsibilities, and I just wouldn’t be able to give someone the attention they deserve.”
You weren’t lying. Just… not telling the whole truth either.
Because saying it out loud—admitting that you were already with someone—wasn’t an option. Not when that someone was Isara Mao, and every whisper about his private life could become a headline.
You knew how fragile an idol’s career could be, how a single rumor could turn into a storm. Thankfully, no one had found out yet. And the few close friends who did know? They had kept their lips sealed like a vault.
You were more grateful than words could ever say, for their trust, and for protecting something so precious.
The sudden accusation made you snap your head up, eyes wide in confusion. "What…?"
"You said you're too focused on your work to date, but you already have a guy!" His voice rose, sharp with frustration and disbelief.
You blinked, taken aback, then frowned slightly. "I am telling the truth. And really, why would a producer like me date an idol? That’d be a complete mess."
But he wasn’t having it. "Then explain why that guy, Ritsu, was sleeping on your lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world!"
A sweatdrop formed as you blinked at him in disbelief. "Wait, are you seriously saying… you think Ritsu and I are dating?"
He folded his arms, wearing a smug look, clearly thinking he had you cornered. "Isn’t that proof enough? No normal coworker would let someone nap on them like that."
You stared at him for a long moment, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the laugh bubbling in your throat. You shouldn’t laugh. No, you really shouldn’t…
You pressed your lips together, trying your hardest not to let the laugh slip out. Not now, Y/n. Don’t laugh, even if it’s Ritsu we’re talking about.
Taking a calming breath, you placed your hands on your hips and looked at him evenly. “Look… I can understand how that might’ve looked weird to you, but Ritsu and I are just close friends. That’s it. He naps on anything that breathes.”
The boy still looked unconvinced. His brows furrowed, arms still crossed tightly.
You sighed again, softer this time. “I’m not lying to you, okay? I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, so I tried to be gentle about it. But the truth is… I can’t say yes to your confession. Not because of someone else. Because I’m not in the place for that kind of relationship with anyone. My job comes first, and I have responsibilities that I take seriously.”
You truly thought your words gentle, honest, careful, might soothe his temper. But instead, something in his gaze shifted. His hands clenched into trembling fists, jaw tight with something more than frustration. You took an unconscious step back as he moved forward, the air suddenly too heavy to breathe.
You froze, heart lurching. Your eyes squeezed shut on instinct, bracing for pain that never came.
But in the stillness, there was warmth.
A familiar presence, firm, protective, slid between you and the blow. Strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. Shielding you.
When you dared to open your eyes, all you could see was Mao’s back, tense but unwavering. His hand was locked around the other boy’s wrist, stopping him inches away from where you stood.
"Mao..." you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.
The boy stumbled back, panic flooding his face the moment he recognized Mao. Of course he’d be afraid—after all, Isara Mao wasn’t just any student. He was the student council president, and his authority wasn’t something to be taken lightly.
“H-How are you even here—?”
“That doesn’t matter,” Mao interrupted, voice cool and sharp like a blade. His usual warmth was nowhere to be found, replaced by a calm fury that sent chills down your spine. “What does matter is what I just witnessed. Do you have any idea what kind of consequences you’d face if you’d gone any further?”
The boy’s face drained of color. Without another word, he recoiled, eyes wide with shame and fear before he turned and bolted down the stairs, running away from the weight of his actions.
A moment later, the soft sound of footsteps echoed behind you.
“Got the whole thing,” Ritsu said casually, holding up his phone as he approached. “I’ll report it to the school board, Maa-kun.”
Then, as if nothing had happened, Ritsu reached out and gently ruffled your hair, his sleepy smile oddly reassuring. With a wave, he turned and disappeared just as effortlessly as he’d come.
Mao exhaled a heavy breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… thanks, Ritsu.”
Then he turned to you, and his hardened expression melted instantly. Concern replaced anger as he reached for you, eyes searching your face. “Are you okay?”
You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. The world blurred around the edges as the fear crashed over you like a wave, numbing your limbs and freezing the breath in your lungs. Your hands trembled at your sides, your eyes locked on the cold floor beneath your feet—because looking up meant facing the truth of what had almost happened.
You had almost been hurt.
And that truth hollowed something out inside you.
Not just physical. A warmth that wrapped around your shaken body like a lifeline, grounding you before the spiral could take you completely. Two hands, steady and careful, came to rest on your shoulders. You knew that touch.
“Hey,” Mao’s voice cut through the fog, soft, steady, filled with that unwavering care only he gave you. He crouched down, lowering himself until his gaze could meet yours. “Hey, sweetheart… it’s me. Look at me.”
Your eyes flickered, glassy and unsure, until they slowly rose to meet his. The moment you did, his expression crumpled just a little not from panic, but from quiet, aching concern.
“It’s okay now,” he whispered. “He’s gone. You’re safe. I promise, I’ve got you.”
You tried to breathe, but it caught in your throat again. You couldn’t stop shaking.
So Mao leaned in, forehead nearly brushing yours, speaking low, like a secret meant only for you. “Just breathe with me, okay? One breath at a time. In through your nose…”
He inhaled slowly, and you tried to follow. Your chest hitched, but you managed it.
“Good… now out,” he exhaled, guiding you gently. “That’s it. You’re doing great.”
He stayed right there with you his presence a steady flame in the dark, his touch never wavering as you clung to the rhythm of his voice and breath until the trembling dulled. Until the fear receded, just a little.
Until the only thing you could feel was him.
You finally looked up at him, and—ah… you had missed those green eyes. There was a warmth in them that melted straight into your chest, wrapping around your heart like the safest place in the world. You gave a small, sheepish smile, tilting your head slightly.
“Ah… so much for the legendary confession I thought I’d experience one day,” you joked quietly, trying to lighten the air.
Mao let out a soft, breathy laugh, though a sweatdrop formed on his temple as he gently poked your forehead.
“And that’s the first thing you say after almost getting hurt?”
You let out a tiny huff and pretended to wince at the poke, but even you weren’t in the mood to play for long. The smile you wore faltered slightly, replaced by a quiet honesty as you rubbed your arm.
“Truthfully…” you murmured, “I’m scared. I think that moment’s going to keep playing in my head… over and over again.”
Mao’s expression softened even more, concern flickering across his features.
“Even in your dreams?” he asked gently.
You hesitated, then forced another smile, this one fragile, but meant to ease his worry. “Maybe… but I’ll be okay.”
Mao could tell—you weren’t going to be okay. Not completely. Not tonight. Maybe not for a while. He knew that look in your eyes, the way your fingers trembled just slightly, and how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.
Without another word, he stood up and gently took your hands in his. His grip was warm, steady.
“Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s do something today. Just the two of us.”
You blinked up at him, caught off guard. “Huh? What’s with the sudden idea?”
He gave you that familiar, lopsided smile and guided you down the rooftop stairs, his hand never leaving yours. “I’m just in the mood, that’s all. I thought we could go eat something special.”
You chuckled, teasing, “Let me guess, ramen again?”
But Mao shook his head and looked over at you, sincerity in his voice. “Nope. Today, I want your favorite. I want to hear what you’re craving.”
You stopped in your tracks for a second, taken aback by his words. He was doing this for you, you could tell. He wasn’t trying to fix everything. He just wanted to be beside you, to fill the silence with warmth instead of fear, to remind you that you weren’t alone.
Mao didn't reply immediately. Instead, he turned toward you, his gaze searching yours as though trying to memorize every flicker of emotion behind your eyes. Then, without a word, he leaned in and kissed you not rushed or teasing this time, but slow and full of meaning.
It took your breath away. Your heart fluttered in your chest as the world seemed to still around you. The warmth of his lips chased away the lingering chill of what had almost happened earlier. You kissed him back, gently, as if telling him thank you without saying a word.
When he pulled away, there was a soft smile on his face, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. You flushed and looked away quickly, mumbling, “You’re lucky no one’s around this time of day…”
He chuckled, voice light but filled with affection. “I know.”
Then, just as the silence settled again between you, he spoke soft and certain. “I love you, Y/n.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but somehow this moment, after everything made it land differently. The way he looked at you, like you were the one constant in a world that kept shifting.
You turned your face to him, eyes shining just a little as your fingers curled tighter around his. “I love you too, Mao.”
And as you walked together, hand in hand through the golden light of the fading afternoon, the weight in your chest finally began to lift replaced by something tender and grounding. Safe.
With him by your side, it felt like you could start breathing again.
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Happy 10th anniversary, Ensemble Star!!
