The Beat to my Stolen Heart (a SuperM x Reader story)

Dinner for Two

Word count: 1070

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As they sat in the restaurant, Y/N didn't really know how to handle herself. While she was the one that had insisted he make sure to take her out, now that they were there, it was a bit awkward. He wasn't quite as dressed up as idols usually were in the movies, but he did have his hood up, and he was periodically taking a pair of sunglasses on and off. The waitress hadn't seemed to recognize him, so that was good at least. When she walked up, she asked for their drink orders.

"I'll just have a Coke." Mark told her politely, smiling as he looked to her. She stuttered, saying that just a water was fine. "You don't want anything to drink?" He asked, tilting his head curiously. She tried to explain how it was rude to order drinks on someone else's bill, but he waved a hand. "Get whatever you want, on me. You can even get a drink drink if you want." She felt a bit of heat rise to her face out of embarrassment. It was definitely not a good idea to get drunk. She just ordered the fountain drink she preferred and let the waitress walk away. She kept her eyes to the menu, looking over the variety of items.

"You know, this could be really good," He said, making one-sided conversation with ease. "If we can get you this production, and people like it? You could get really famous." She laughed awkwardly, shaking her head.

"I don't really need to be famous. Plus, if the company thought I had any talent, they would have let me do something about it by now." Sighing, she tried to continue, "I really appreciate you guys trying to be nice, but-"

"Don't say that!" He yelled loudly, startling the returning waitress as well as several bystanders. Coughing in realization at his outburst, he let the woman put their drinks down and take their orders, a strange intermission to his insistence. Once she was gone, he lowered his voice, leaning forward. "Don't say that, there's something there, and just because the company doesn't appreciate it yet doesn't mean you should give up. I promise I'll find a way to make this happen, yeah?" As he sat back, satisfied with his pep talk, she realized something, processing the information nearly thirty seconds late.

"Wait... did you actually order chicken tenders?"

"They're good!" He snapped. "And Taemin has no right to comment on my taste, he eats his own cooking on occasion. Just because he likes fancy food doesn't mean I can't eat chicken tenders." She laughed, expecting his little rant to be over, but he just kept going. "I mean, really! Fans will come to the signing events and stuff expecting my favorite food to be some insane Korean dish with eight thousand syllables. I'm from Canada, for Christ's sake, can I not just like chicken nuggets?"

"Okay, okay!" She put up her hands. "Eat whatever you want."

"I will, thank you." He shut his eyes with a victorious grin, taking a sip of his drink. "So, what made you get into music?" He asked. Surprised slightly, her gaze shifted.

"Huh?"

"You know, you don't just start doing something for no reason. I started this for a reason, if you ask Taemin, he started dancing for a reason, it's the same with everyone."

"I guess that makes sense."

"So?" Debating how in detail she should go, she began to talk about her life, starting with her family and her childhood, her taste in music as a kid, how she evolved and grew as she aged. Eventually, she ended with her job at SM.

"It was strange, how I got it, actually." She laughed. "I'm obviously not really cut out to be an idol, but-"

"I disagree, but continue," he interrupted. Rolling her eyes, she carried on.

"When I was just finishing up high school, I met this guy- still don't know his name, and I honestly can't even remember his face. He was in the school's dance club, but I remember he had a nice voice because he would sing along with the tracks in the practice room. We took a composition class together one semester to fill an extra period. We sat near each other, but we never really talked. Once we started writing our own music, though, he started having trouble, mostly with the software." She laughed, remembering it vaguely.

"I wish I had paid more attention, I was more shy back then if you could believe it. I don't think I made eye contact with him once. As I was helping him, though, I- reluctantly, I'll say- let him listen to what I was working on. For some reason, he just got so excited, and asked me to compose something for his senior performance. I couldn't really refuse, so we partnered up on it.

It was kind of difficult at first, because he just said he loved everything I came up with, but eventually we found a vibe that he adored. I even helped with the choreography a little. Not much, though, I'm not a dancer. I went to see his performance that year, and he ended up leaving me a business card. It had a contact at SM, and he said that he was applying for a job, and that I should too." Mark was leaning forward in his seat now, eyes wide with anticipation.

"So? Did he make it? I mean, obviously you're working here, but how is he? Does he still dance?" Laughing again, she shrugged.

"I don't know. That's the last I've ever seen of him. Even if he was working here, I don't think I'd recognize him. The only dance I remember him doing it, well... mine." Groaning, Mark put a hand to his face.

"Are you serious? That's the worst! Now we have to find him!" She put up a hand in pause.

"It's really okay. I'm sure he's doing great. Yeah, it's a shame we never switched contact information or stayed in touch, but it led me to where I am today, so I can't really complain." He still looked sullen, but the arrival of their food quickly cheered him up. Obviously hungry, he offered a quick apology for his preemptive intermission, digging in. She watched for a moment in amusement before beginning to eat as well.