espresso
summary: you drop a song to knock your ex, Kwon Jiyong, off the charts - only he’s not mad, just determined to have you back
track seven of zen's short n' sweet challenge
“So…What did you think?”
You waited in anticipation for his answer, phone balanced between your cheek and shoulder as you transferred clothes straight from your suitcase to the washing machine.
“It’s brilliant. Almost perfect actually,” He took a short breath. “Which is what makes me curious. Who made the track?”
You sigh and readjust the phone.
“That doesn’t matter, Teddy.” You slammed the door shut and set it on a quick wash.
“I’m just saying Y/n, I’d recognise his work anywhere -”
“It was a gift. And it belongs to me now. So, can we work on it?”
“I mean there’s not much to work on, but we can book a session for next week, sure.” He agreed and you smiled, victorious.
You expressed your gratitude and agreed to meet in the studio soon.
You never thought you’d be at a studio for more than company on late nights or to come pick up your ex-boyfriend the morning after he’d crashed there, surrounded by empty coffee cups and missed phone calls.
That was your life before.
And you were trying to push forward into a now.
Without him.
It had been years since you’d seen Kwon Jiyong, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t heard from him; drunk phone calls in the early hours of the morning, gifts at your doorstep, comments under your posts.
He had tried to shove his way back in.
Even though he was the one that left.
You scowl at the thought as you kick your suitcase to one side and step over it, heading towards the kitchen.
Adjusting to life without him hadn’t been as difficult as you first imagined, firstly because he was hardly there when you were together. Being with GDragon was like chasing a sunrise; beautiful in thought, and exhausting in practice.
Removing all traces of him was the only way to be certain you could move on.
You’d left everything behind.
Except one thing.
Your song.
The song he wrote and produced for you.
He’d always said you should try singing, he had even convinced you to record vocals for some of his own tracks.
But it was never your thing.
Until there were rumours of his return to music.
And then you received a letter from his assistant, requesting permission for the rights of the vocals you recorded for that song years ago.
Fuck no.
It was yours.
Maybe some would say it was petty, or vengeful of you. But you were exes right? That’s part of the deal.
𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪
Jiyong sighed and hit pause on the track, his back aching as he leaned over the sound booth, nearly spilling his water onto the console.
His shoulders were hunched and his neck twinged but he pursed onwards anyway, desperate to keep working. To keep the thoughts away.
It had been years since he released a song.
There was a time when he thought he’d never stop. When he was willing to give up everything just to keep going. More tours, more arena’s, more sleepless nights.
Only, it didn’t take long for him to learn those things meant nothing when he had nothing to come home to.
Letting you go had felt noble at first.
He wasn’t being fair to you.
There were only so many missed calls, cold dinners and empty beds before the fighting began. But the moment you’d slammed the door behind you, suitcase half-empty as you wheeled it over broken glass and heartache, he’d been left with nothing but silence.
And no song or roaring crowds could fill that empty void.
“Alright, I’m gonna have to end it there,” Teddy muttered as he checked his phone, beginning to pack up and Jiyong straightened, cracking his back at the movement.
“What do you mean? It’s far from finished.”
“I know, but I have another artist waiting,” He shrugged helplessly, stuffing cords and papers into his backpack.
Jiyong checked his own phone, the sight of your smiling face filling his vision. His lockscreen presented the time: 12:01am.
“Who’s starting a session at this time?”
“I am,”
His head turned so fast you heard it click.
You stood in the doorway, smirking as your lips curled around a straw, sipping an iced latte. You glanced at him briefly, then at Teddy.
“You ready?”
Jiyong pulled off his hood, running his fingers through his hair. It was so much longer now. And dark. No more shaved sides, or dyed a bright colour. “W-what are you doing here?”
He felt a threat of hope tugging at chest, unwinding from that knot of pain and fear he felt when you had cut him off completely.
You shrugged. “Working late. Guess I’m a singer now.”
He was still processing your words but Teddy was already standing, sending him an apologetic glance and pat on the shoulder.
“Get some rest hyung,” He said, walking to where you stood. You didn’t glance at Jiyong again, turning on your heel and he watched intently as the two of you disappeared through the open door.
His hands hovered over the soundboard, buttons glowing beneath his shaking fingers, but his eyes never left the open door.
Seeing you was like a shot of espresso had been injected into his veins.
Suddenly, he was no longer half-asleep, body hunched and aching as he fretted over pitch and perfection.
But it sure felt like he was sleep-walking when he found himself edging down the hall to the only closed door. He leaned against it, biting his nails as he pressed his ear to the solid wood, hoping to hear something. Anything.
In that moment he’d never hated sound-proofing more.
He waited.
And then he waited some more, spurred on by the hope that you’d finished that coffee and leave the studio room, miraculously bumping into him on your way to the bathroom.
Eventually, he sat back in his leather chair, facing towards his open door. You would walk past at some point.
You’d have to.
And he’d be there.
But he awoke hours later in a panic, eyes searching frantically as he forgot where he was.
His eyes landed on the desk beside him.
A half-empty plastic cup of coffee, your name written in sharpie on the side. He picked it up, the ice had melted now but he peeled the pink sticky note off the side.
Someone once told me sleep was for the weak…sweet dreams ji x
He huffed, remembering those words during arguments when he would defend all of his late nights at the studio instead of being home, with you. Jiyong quickly pocketed the note. He then took a sip of the watered down coffee, head falling back against the chair with a loud exhale.
Coffee was usually bitter, but you always added a shot of caramel to make it sweet.
He sucked on the straw, biting down it as he thought of you. The sweetest thing he ever tasted.
𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪
You smiled and gently touched the yellow petal. Another arrangement of roses now joined your countertop full of flowers, cards, and gift boxes.
All of them commemorated the success of your first and only song release.
The media were labelling it the song of the summer.
They wrote headlines, wondering if you’d be the next big thing in music or a one-hit wonder.
In truth, you didn’t care.
You hadn’t done it for the money or fame. You wanted to prove something. And knocking your ex-boyfriend from that number one spot on the charts certainly felt good.
But… bittersweet.
The excitement had only lasted so long.
And the array of congratulatory flowers and gifts he’d sent certainly made you feel a twinge of something other than gleeful revenge.
You carefully stepped closer to the box full of daisies.
A pink card sat nestled amongst them.
You opened it quickly, as if the paper would burn you. But reading his short scrawl of words sent a wave of peace through you.
Thinking about you always, glad I can hear you now too.
Love forever,
your Ji.
Waking up and hearing you on the radio must have been as odd an experience for him as it was for you. In the break up, you’d avoided hearing him at all costs, keeping your car stereo on mute just in case.
You wondered if he did the same now.
You picked up your phone and unblocked his number without thinking, dialling before you could back out. You wanted to hear him.
He picked up on the second ring.
“Y/n?”
“Thinking about me?”
He laughed and you could picture his bright smile, all teeth and dimples. “Always.”
You smiled and shifted on your feet, leaning against the counter as you stared at the white petals, their sweet smelling filling your house. “Guess we’re rivals now.”
“We could make something together.” He suggested quickly. “Prove the media wrong.”
“Eh, I’m very busy these days,” You say, even though you had no intention of pursuing any of the interest you’d received.
“I’ll wait.”
You nodded despite the fact he couldn’t see you. “That might be a long time.” You cleared your throat and straightened. “Happy birthday by the way. Thought I’d unblock you as a gift.”
He chuckled again. “Thank you baby, best birthday gift yet.”
“Whatever,” You breathe out, ignoring his slip up - whether it was intentional or not, instead picking at one of the fallen petals and rolling it between your fingers. “Don’t expect me to come to your party or anything,”
“Mhm,” he said. “But just to make sure, you’re not doing anything tomorrow evening, right?”
You rolled your eyes and hung up the phone, staring at the call log for a moment before smiling again.
Persistent bastard.
𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪
something short and sweet for zenny's event!! thank you for inviting me @aizshallnotbefound to be a part of it <33
love always,
mash xxx
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