The flowerbed - Aespa's Giselle x M!Reader

The roots are stretched thin (Part 2)

The recording studio had become our second home over the past week. I watched through the control room window as Karina wrapped up her part of the chorus, her voice hitting each note with practiced precision. The new song was darker, grittier than their previous releases – and they were absolutely owning it.

"Let's take it from bar 37 again," our sound engineer, Min-ho, called through the talkback. "Watch the breath control on the sustained note – we're getting some peaking in the chorus."

I studied the meters, noting the slight peaks he was referring to. The new track was pushing everyone's vocals to their limits.

Ningning was perched next to our sound engineer, absorbing every technical detail as usual. Winter sat in the corner, methodically marking up her lyric sheet with breathing notations. And Giselle... I frowned as I watched her massage her throat again. She'd been hitting her rap sections hard all week, pushing for a deeper tone that the song demanded.

The next day's recording session started smoothly enough. The girls worked through their individual parts, laying down the complex harmonies that would form the backbone of the chorus. It wasn't until day two of the music video shoot that everything went sideways.

"Something's wrong." Min-ho's voice cut through the bustling set. He was hunched over his laptop, face illuminated by rows of waveforms. "The vocal stems... they're corrupted."

I rushed over, leaning in to look at his screen. The main session was a mess – digital artifacts cutting through crucial vocal sections. My stomach dropped as I recognized Giselle's main verse, now marred by digital distortion.

"How bad?"

"Bad." Min-ho pulled up the backup drive. Same issue. "The corruption must have happened during the initial recording. It propagated through all our backups."

The director joined us, his expression darkening as Min-ho explained the situation. We needed clean vocals for the lip-sync, and what we had was unusable. The set for the music video – an elaborate, custom-built structure that had taken days to light properly – was only booked through tonight.

"We need to re-record," the director said flatly. "All of it."

I did quick mental math. Three hours left on set. At least forty minutes to get to the nearest studio. Another thirty to set up. That left less than two hours for what had originally taken a full day to record.

"I'll do it." Giselle's voice behind me made me turn. She must have heard everything. "We can't lose the set time."

"Aeri..." I started, but she cut me off.

"I can handle it."

But when she went to demonstrate a line, the hoarseness in her voice was unmistakable. Winter stepped forward immediately, but Giselle held up a hand.

"Don't. This is my responsibility." Her eyes met mine, challenging. "The rap sections are mine. They need that specific tone."

"And they'll get it," Karina interrupted, "but not at the cost of your voice." She turned to Min-ho. "Can we split the sections? Record different parts separately and compile?"

Min-ho shook his head. "The reverb between tracks is too complex. We need it recorded together to match the existing mix." He pulled up the original session. "These harmonies are too tightly integrated to fake in post."

"What about—" Winter started, but was cut off by a sharp crack of something breaking. We all turned to see Ningning standing over a fallen light stand, eyes wide.

"Sorry! I just... I have an idea." She rushed over to the computer, pointing at the waveforms. "Look at the harmonies. What if we split it not by parts, but by ranges? Min-jeong takes everything in the higher register, I handle the middle range, and we let Aeri focus just on the lower sections where her voice isn't strained?"

Min-ho's fingers flew over the keyboard, running some quick calculations. "That... might actually work. We'd need perfect timing, but..."

"We can record it as a group," Karina added, catching on. "All of us in the booth together, like our practice sessions."

I looked at Giselle, seeing the conflict in her eyes. "Your parts are still yours," I said quietly. "We're just redistributing the load. Like a proper team."

The studio we commandeered wasn't our usual space. The acoustics weren't ideal, but watching the members huddle together around the single microphone, adjusting their positions for optimal sound, I saw something click into place.

"Recording," Min-ho called out. "Whiplash, full vocal stem, take one."

The first attempt was rough. The second better. By the third, they'd found their rhythm – quite literally. Winter's high harmonies soared above while Ningning's power notes punched through the middle, creating a pocket for Giselle's now-protected lower register to shine. Karina wove between them all, binding the pieces together.

Take seven was the one. I felt it before I even saw Min-ho's smile. The rawness of the situation, the pressure of the moment – it had all fed into the performance. The slight imperfections actually added to the grittiness of the song.

"We need to get back to set," the director called from the doorway. "Now."

The race back to the set was tense, Min-ho working on his laptop the entire ride, rendering stems and praying they'd sync correctly. We made it with twenty minutes to spare.

Later, after the final shot was called and equipment was being packed away, I found myself alone in the control room, running a final check on the exported files. The door opened behind me.

"Thank you." Giselle's voice was tired but clear. "For not letting me be stupid about my voice. And for... letting me keep my parts anyway."

I turned, noticing the way the dim studio lights played across her features. "The team found the solution. I just helped implement it."

"Still." She stepped closer, examining the waveforms on screen. "You knew when to step in and when to step back." Her finger traced one of the peaks. "Like this note here. Knowing when to hold it, when to let it breathe."

The metaphor wasn't lost on me. Neither was her proximity.

A knock at the door made us both jump. Winter stood in the doorway, a knowing smile playing at her lips. "Cars are ready. Unless... you two need more time to analyze waveforms?"

Giselle stepped back, cheeks coloring slightly. "No, we're done. Just... making sure everything exported correctly."

"Mhm," Winter hummed, unconvinced. "Very technical."

I busied myself with shutting down the system, trying to ignore both Winter's amusement and the lingering warmth where Giselle had stood. Professional boundaries were important, I reminded myself. Even if they were starting to feel as complex as those interwoven harmonies we'd spent all day perfecting.

"One minute," Giselle called to Winter, who raised an eyebrow but stepped back into the hallway, pulling the door not-quite-closed behind her. Before I could process what was happening, Giselle had wrapped her arms around me in a quick, tight hug. "Thank you," she whispered again, this time against my shoulder. "For everything." Then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving me alone in the control room with the sensation of her hug.

My heart wanted to jump out of my chest. The warmth, her soft skin and her floral fragrance overpowered me and I stood in front of the computer for a few good minutes, frozen.