After Eunjae eonnie and Kenzie sunbaenim left, the studio felt quieter — but not empty.
Junny stretched his arms over his head, glancing at Lexie with an almost playful exhaustion.
"All right, superstar," he teased. "Back to work?"
Lexie laughed, the sound light with relief. "Back to work," she echoed, already tugging her headphones back on.
They spent the next few hours deep in their own little creative world.
Junny laid down rough harmonies; Lexie layered beats over them, tweaking textures and EQ until something clicked.
At times, she would slide over to the mic, humming out a scratch melody, eyes half‑closed in concentration.
Other times, they'd stop to compare two demos side by side — debating small choices no one else might even hear.
There was an easy rhythm between them: nods, quick scribbles on a notepad, half‑spoken suggestions that turned into new ideas.
The floor was scattered with empty coffee cups and scribbled lyric sheets.
Lexie barely noticed the hours passing — her thoughts flickering between the mixes in her headphones, the coming Omega Camp, and occasional, unspoken worries about running into Mark.
It was only when the studio door slammed open that they both jumped.
"Hyung, no way you two are still alive in here," came a teasing voice.
Haechan stood in the doorway, mask tugged under his chin, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth.
He glanced between Junny and Lexie, eyebrow quirking at the mess of paper, cables, and coffee.
"Wow. Didn't realize you guys were making an entire album," he joked, stepping fully inside.
Lexie laughed, a real, unguarded laugh, and pushed her chair back. "We kind of forgot to breathe," she admitted.
Junny ran a hand through his hair. "Or to eat," he added sheepishly.
Haechan tilted his head, eyes narrowing with mock scolding. "Seriously? You two skipped lunch?"
Lexie glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was already past one. "Guess so."
Without thinking too hard about it, she smiled and offered, "Come on — let's go grab something. My treat. And don't hold back just because it's on me."
Haechan's grin widened, a flash of playful disbelief. "Really? You sure?"
Lexie nodded, her tone light but sincere. "Really. I insist."
Junny tried to protest, but she cut him off with a quick shake of her head.
And just like that, the three of them slipped out of the studio into the sunlit hallways of the building.
They ended up skipping the walk outside and heading instead to the fifth‑floor cafeteria — a bright, airy space that buzzed gently with the late‑lunch crowd.
Lexie balanced her tray a little carefully, trying to look calm even as her eyes kept flicking around the room.
And there they were: familiar faces she'd only ever seen on screens or album covers, scattered casually at tables, laughing or hunched over food.
Her heart did this silly skip. She told herself to breathe. You're here for lunch, not an autograph.
Haechan noticed, of course — he always noticed.
"Why do you look like you're trying to look everywhere and nowhere at the same time?" he teased, nudging her elbow lightly.
Lexie gave him a small, embarrassed laugh. "Busted."
Junny, sliding his tray next to hers, chuckled. "You're allowed to be a fan, you know," he murmured, voice low so only she could hear.
They found a corner table near the windows, the city sprawling out in the background.
Haechan plopped down across from Lexie, chin propped in one hand, chopsticks in the other — eyes locked on her with an amused glint.
"So," he began, drawing out the word dramatically, "tell me exactly what was going through your head just now."
Lexie rolled her eyes, still smiling. "I just... It's weird seeing people I used to watch on stage like... normal people eating kimchi jjigae," she admitted.
Haechan tapped his chopsticks against his bowl. "Fair," he said, eyes sparkling. "But spoiler: we really do just sit around and talk about what we're going to eat next."
Lexie laughed, relaxing into the seat a little more.
And Haechan, being Haechan, didn't let the conversation pause for more than a few seconds.
Between bites, he fired off questions faster than she could fully answer them:
— "Okay but what got you into DJing, really?"
— "Favorite plug‑in for vocal chops?"
— "Wait, wait — what's your actual go‑to comfort food?"
Junny chimed in now and then, but mostly watched them with a fond, slightly resigned amusement, as if he knew there was no stopping Haechan once he started.
A moment later, while she was reaching for the kimchi, he poked her sleeve again.
"Wait, wait— real talk. Favorite NCT track. And don't say Zoo just because we're here."
Lexie paused, chopsticks hovering mid‑air. "Regular. The English version," she admitted, cheeks warming. "I played it on loop the month it came out."
Haechan threw his head back, cackling. "That's so specific! Why the English one?"
"It hits different," she defended, mock‑serious. "The vibe, the bassline... it's just smooth."
Haechan wiped imaginary tears of laughter. "You really are a producer at heart."
Junny, chewing quietly beside them, watched the exchange with a small grin. "She's been like this all morning," he teased.
Lexie shot him a half‑hearted glare, then turned back to Haechan, curiosity winning over.
"What about you? Favorite track that you're not on?"
Haechan pretended to ponder dramatically, chopsticks tapping his lips. "Probably... Limitless. The harmonies are crazy."
Lexie's eyes widened. "That's a solid choice. Respect."
They clinked chopsticks like a toast, giggling at the absurdity.
Mid‑meal, Haechan started reaching over to steal a piece of beef from Lexie's bowl.
She caught his wrist mid‑air. "Excuse me?"
He raised an eyebrow, completely unashamed. "Sharing is caring, bestie."
Lexie relented, pushing the bowl closer. "Fine. But next time, ask."
"Nah, that ruins the fun," Haechan quipped, already munching contentedly.
At one point, Haechan tugged gently at the bracelet on Lexie's wrist — a plain leather braid. "Is this new?"
She shook her head, voice softer. "Old, actually. From Vancouver."
"Cool," he murmured, before smirking again. "Looks like a friendship bracelet. Should we get matching ones?"
"You know," she teased, holding it out toward Haechan across the table, "since you already declared we're besties... I could lend it to you. For a day or so."
Haechan blinked, surprised, then broke into a grin so wide it almost looked mischievous. "For real?"
"Yeah," she said, softer this time. "Just... don't lose it, okay?"
He accepted it carefully, turning it over in his hands like it was something rare. "I won't. Promise," he said, slipping it onto his wrist and holding it up to admire.
Then, leaning back with that classic Haechan smirk: "But fair warning, when people ask why we're matching, I'm telling them you begged me first."
Lexie laughed, rolling her eyes, but the quiet warmth in her chest didn't fade.
Lexie laughed, rolling her eyes, but the quiet warmth in her chest didn't fade.
Yet as she flexed her now-bare wrist, an unexpected hollowness tugged at her thoughts. That bracelet had been there for years — a silent anchor, a memory she rarely spoke of. And the person who'd given it to her... if he saw it on Haechan, he'd recognize it in an instant.
A meeting sooner than she'd planned, a confrontation she wasn't sure she was ready for.
But then Lexie drew in a steady breath, brushing the worry aside. Who cares? she told herself firmly. I'm not here for him. I'm here to chase what I almost let slip away.
The music, the chance to build something of her own again — that was what mattered now. Whatever came with it... she'd face when it came.
✦ ✦ ✦
Mark wiped the sweat from his brow, catching his breath between dance reps, when something glinting on Haechan's wrist caught his eye.
A slim, woven bracelet — frayed just enough to look lived‑in. At first, it barely registered — just a bracelet. But then recognition hit like a jolt. His heart stuttered.
Mark's breath snagged in his chest as he stepped closer, voice unsteady despite trying to sound casual.
"Hey, where'd you get that?"
Haechan, ever the playful maknae, wrapped an arm lazily around Mark's shoulders, grinning. "Oh, this?" he teased, twisting his wrist a little as if to show it off.
Mark nodded, unable to hide the edge in his tone.
"Oh, Lexie's," Haechan said lightly, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "You know — the talented producer Junny‑hyung won't shut up about? She's here today. We kinda hung out, grabbed lunch at the cafeteria... then she lent it to me. Cool, right?"
Mark's heart lurched painfully at the name. Lexie. After everything — the silence, the space, the years trying not to look back — she was here?
Haechan, noticing Mark's expression shift, tilted his head, still clinging to him. "Hyung, you okay?"
"Where is she now?" he asked, voice quieter than he meant, almost betraying the urgency he felt.
Haechan blinked, caught off guard by how serious Mark suddenly sounded.
"I think she was in Junny‑hyung's studio earlier," he replied, tilting his head. "She might still be there...said they're finishing their preparation for the OMEGA Camp."
Mark barely waited for the last word. He gently pulled free from Haechan's arm, chest tight with something like hope — or dread — or both tangled together.
Without thinking, he turned and headed straight for the door, his pulse roaring in his ears.
Lexie... here.
All those years of what‑ifs and could‑have‑beens collapsed into a single thought: I need to see her.
Even if he didn't know what he'd say. Even if it was selfish.
When Mark reached Junny's studio, breath half‑caught from the rush, the lights were still on — but Lexie was already gone, as if she'd only ever been a trace of music lingering in the air.
For a moment, he stood frozen by the doorway, chest heaving, staring at the empty space where she could have been.
Memories slammed into him before he could stop them:
That first night, coming home late, half‑dead from practice — and finding someone had draped a blanket over him. Her scent faint on the fabric. How his pulse had kicked up when he cracked one sleepy eye open and almost caught a glimpse of her retreating figure.
And then all the other times: rushing home earlier than planned, hoping to find her still around — only to hear from Matthew that she'd already left. Or standing in the kitchen, half‑hidden, catching just her voice drifting from upstairs before another schedule ripped him away.
It was stupid how often his thoughts had spiraled back to her. How a single shared hallway or a glimpse of her sneakers near the door could spark hope in his chest.
Maybe today.
But it never was. Schedules, miles, and stubborn pride always won.
Now she was here — really here — in the same building, the same breath of time. And he'd still missed her.
A shaky exhale slipped from his chest, something caught between relief and regret.
All this time... did she even know? How close I tried to be, even when everything kept pulling us apart?
He ran a hand through his sweat‑damp hair, jaw tightening, eyes scanning the room as if some piece of her might still linger there: a notebook, a coffee cup, a laugh she'd left behind.
Nothing. Just silence.
Mark swallowed hard, the ache sharp in his chest.
She's here now. And so am I.
Just then the studio door behind him opened.
Junny stepped in, phone still in hand, expression shifting from surprise to mild concern as he spotted Mark standing there, gaze darting around like he was searching for something lost.
"Yo, Mark? You okay?" Junny asked, closing the door softly behind him.
Mark's eyes met his, the usual calm in them replaced by a restless edge
"Lexie— she was just here, right? Where is she?"
Junny blinked, taking a second to read the urgency etched in Mark's voice.
"She was, yeah. She left an hour after we had our late lunch."
Mark's shoulders tensed. "Left? Why?"
"I don't know. Said something came up — looked kinda serious," Junny explained, slipping his phone into his back pocket.
For a heartbeat, Mark stood there, hands curled into loose fists at his sides, jaw working silently. Again, he thought — always a step too late, always watching the door close instead of catching her before it did.
"You okay, man?" Junny asked again, gentler this time.
Mark swallowed, glancing away as if trying to steady himself. "Yeah... yeah," he lied, voice rougher than he meant.
Then softer, barely audible: "Just... really wanted to see her."