NCT Oneshots {ot23} | open

Sing For You: Mark + Y/N

▹prompt: sing for you
▹word count: 2918
▹genre: fluff, getting together
▹warnings: n/a

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹❀◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ

"Morning." You greet your manager with a forced smile, more out of politeness than anything else, and blink the remnants of sleep from your eyes as you fumble with the seatbelt.

It's far too early for this. Recordings are usually done later in the day, but this time the producer wants to meet you beforehand, and you really don't know what must have been running through his mind for him to insist on seven in the morning. You've never worked together before, but you know the name. Everyone in the industry knows the name.

Mark Lee.

The most renowned Korean producer and songwriter of this music generation. So, working with him for your new comeback is a huge opportunity. Excitement bubbles through you, but it's difficult to give into it when your head droops as the car pulls away, a yawn escaping your lips before you can control it.

"You'll start recording in two days' time. He has a few songs for you, and you can listen to the demos today and decide which ones you like best. Sound okay?" Your manager says when the car stops at a red light. He scratches at the faint stubble on his chin, and you can't ignore the heavy bags under his eyes. It seems he hasn't brushed his hair yet either, tufts still sticking out from sleep. You know the feeling.

"Okay." You smile again. You know it's your rehearsed smile for the cameras, but you ignore the manager's raised eyebrow to stare out the window instead, focussing on nothing in particular.

Buildings whir past, trees sway in the morning breeze, and there are a few ominous, grey clouds lurking in the distance. You pull your favourite leather jacket tighter around your torso. It's not too long before the car pulls up outside the building. You follow your manager through the fancy glass doors, then dodge around the staff to find your way to the studio.

On the way, images of Mark's face fill your mind. Despite never having met the producer, you know what he looks like, you know his laugh and his smile, his bright eyes from the hours of scrolling through his Instagram. The concept of meeting him in person finally settles in, and it sends a jolt of adrenaline through your body that has you speeding up, even though another part of you insists on stopping to check your makeup and outfit.

"You must be y/n, right?" A voice stops you in your tracks. Your eyes shoot open wide, eyebrows sinking into a frown of confusion. Before you can turn around to check your ears aren't lying, he appears in front of you.

Round glasses frame Mark's eyes, no sign of makeup underneath, and there's a hint of stubble above his upper lip. His hair is dyed a deep blue that only emerges in the light. The shade nearly matches his oversized jumper. He's gazing at you with eyes full of warmth and earnest, and they seem to shimmer with excitement to show you his music, surprisingly awake for this time of day. Or perhaps he's just an early-riser. You find that thought rather attractive.

"Nice to meet you." Mark continues, his voice breaking you out of your daze. He bows, and you stutter the same words, only just remembering to greet him back.

"Hi." You're suddenly shy. You hope your long bangs cover the nervous shift of your eyes as you try to look at everything except Mark Lee.

"Shall we get started?" Mark walks off, bag on his back like a school kid, and he's either oblivious about your apprehension or just ignoring it.

You follow him a few feet behind. He looks over his shoulder to check you're there, then beams at you, a light spring in each step. You return the gesture and pull your jacket sleeves over your hands, your old trainers now feeling too tight even though you've had the pair since trainee days and your feet haven't grown a single inch.