Echoes of You - (Rosé x Reader)

Notes of Us - Part 1

Chapter 1: First Impressions

It was late afternoon in Los Angeles when Rosé first met Y/N, Kim. 

The city felt different on this rare day—less frantic, more reflective as if the sun was giving her a brief break from the constant spotlight.

A quiet corner of a bustling studio, filled with instruments and half-written lyrics, was where Rosé found Y/N, writing down some notes.

The introduction came through a mutual acquaintance—a producer she'd worked with on one of her solo projects. Y/N, already established as a powerhouse in the music industry, was someone Rosé had heard of for years but had never truly crossed paths with.

Y/N was always talked about in hushed, respectful tones—an enigmatic figure who'd won more Grammys than most artists could dream of and was known for their innovative approach to music. When they spoke, people listened.

At first, Rosé wasn't sure what to expect. A person who had seen everything, who had helped shape the sound of pop music for the last decade. Y/N could have been aloof, dismissive of someone trying to make it into the mainstream, like her. Instead, Y/N greeted Rosé with a calm smile, their presence surprisingly grounded despite their immense success.

"Rosé, right?" Y/N's voice was deep, measured, but not cold. "I've heard a lot about you."

She laughed, feeling a bit self-conscious. "All good things, I hope?"

"Mostly," Y/N replied with a small grin, their eyes crinkling at the corners. "You've got a good ear for music."

The conversation started off like that—casual, easy, like two musicians who happened to be in the same room. As the day wore on, they fell into a rhythm, talking about everything from production techniques to their favorite obscure indie bands.

It wasn't long before Y/N offered her a piece of advice, not the generic "you're doing great" kind, but something more tangible. "Don't be afraid to push your voice a little further," Y/N said, their tone thoughtful. "You've got range—musically and emotionally. Don't hold back just because it's comfortable."

Rosé found herself nodding, genuinely taking in the advice. It wasn't just about vocal technique. There was something about the way they spoke that made her think of her fears—not just in music, but in life.

....

A few weeks passed as Rosé sat in the dimly lit studio, her headphones wrapped around her ears, the soft hum of ambient noise mixing with the rhythm of her thoughts. 

She'd been here for hours, revisiting the same lyrics over and over, trying to find the right words to capture the heartache and longing that had become so familiar. But nothing felt right. Nothing felt real.

Her pen hovered above the notebook, its blank pages mocking her as she stared at the line she had written—"I'm searching for a melody to save me."

The irony of it wasn't lost on her. She had spent her whole life immersed in music—sung and written countless songs that had connected with millions. But in this moment, the very thing that was supposed to be her solace felt like an impenetrable wall. Music had always been her refuge, her escape. But now, it felt like an elusive stranger, just out of reach.

She ran her fingers through her hair, exhaling deeply, feeling the weight of the pressure that seemed to settle on her chest every time she tried to write something new. It wasn't the creative block that was bothering her—it was the space she was in. 

It was the loneliness that crept in every time the music stopped, and the world outside her carefully curated life began to feel overwhelming.

Her phone buzzed on the table, snapping her out of her thoughts. Glancing down, she saw an incoming message from her manager.