The cafeteria was unusually quiet for a Wednesday. Most producers were holed up in their studios or running errands. Lexie moved slowly through the short lunch queue, earbuds in, head lowered, her steps dragging beneath the weight of a sleepless week.
She hadn't eaten much all day—pulled between vocal edits, documentary notes, and evaluations for the new trainee unit. Her brain hummed with reverb levels and timestamps, but her stomach gnawed at her, reminding her she was still human.
Junny and Ejae had both texted earlier; meetings. Hyungwon was tied up choreographing. Everyone she might've clung to was elsewhere, scattered. Lexie didn't mind, not really. The quiet was helpful. She liked solitude. It helped her stay composed.
But as she slid her tray onto a corner table, a familiar voice rang out.
"Lex! You're eating alone?"
She turned her head instinctively. Haechan stood a few tables away, grinning, chopsticks still in one hand. The rest of NCT DREAM sat around him, mid-lunch. Jaemin, Jeno, Renjun, Chenle. Jisung wasn't there, probably still in practice.
Lexie blinked, caught off guard. Haechan was waving her over.
He was always like this—loud, warm, insistent. She'd known him long enough now to catch the nuances: the jokes covering fatigue, the teasing that replaced real concern. Somewhere along the way, he had become more than just another artist in her files.
Late nights, reworked demos, arguments over adlibs and then laughing about them later—their history was layered. He once taped a banana milk to her laptop with a note that said: "Feed your brain, woman." She'd laughed so hard she nearly knocked over a mic stand.
She gave a small smile, lifting her tray. "Just squeezing lunch in. Everyone else is busy."
"Then join us!" Jaemin chimed in, patting the space beside him. Renjun looked up, giving her a polite nod. Jeno smiled too, quieter but no less kind.
Lexie hesitated. Her feet stopped, and for a second she just stood there.
It wasn't logical. She worked with them. She knew their vocal ranges better than most fans did. But still, something in her chest fluttered. The residual nerves of a girl who used to stream their albums on repeat through all-nighters in architecture school.
She remembered the versions of them from screens and fancams. Now they sat a few feet away, bantering over rice.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her tray.
"Can you not hesitate like I just asked you to drop a solo at the Dome?" Haechan deadpanned, already scooting to make space.
Lexie huffed a soft laugh. "You'd be surprised what scares me more."
"You're family now," he said, mock serious. "Also, we need a neutral judge. Rice discourse. Critical."
She slid in, murmuring a quiet thanks. Jaemin bumped her shoulder reaching for banchan, and she let the contact settle. It was fine. Normal. Warm, even.
"You're lucky you missed Jaemin's TED talk about the rice texture," Renjun muttered.
Lexie smiled, genuinely this time. "Mouthfeel discourse again?"
"Exactly!" Jaemin said, triumphant. "Finally, someone gets it."
And just like that, the tension in her chest softened.
Then the cafeteria shifted.
Lexie didn't need to look. She felt it—the quiet that only existed when someone familiar entered. The hairs at the back of her neck lifted before she even turned.
Mark.
He walked in, slightly flushed from rehearsal, hair damp, hoodie clinging at the collar. His eyes found the group—then her.
His steps slowed.
"Mark! Come eat," Chenle called, gesturing.
Lexie moved, just slightly, enough to make room.
Mark hesitated, but sat beside her, tray in hand. A faint "thanks" left his lips.
She didn't look directly at him. Not yet. But she noticed the way his shoulder held tension. The way he chewed slower than usual. She remembered last night—his voice at the studio door, the pencil in his hand. And the way he'd said, "get home safe."
He didn't know.
But he sensed something. She could tell. The silence was heavier than usual. Not uncomfortable, just... fragile.
She picked up her spoon again. Ate a little, even though the food tasted like air.
Then their hands brushed at the kimchi.
Lexie stilled. Pulled back gently.
Mark didn't move. But he noticed.
The table noise softened into a distant hum. Her mind buzzed, but she kept her expression even. The moment passed, but not entirely.
"So Lexie," Jaemin leaned in, voice full of mischief, "Team sticky rice or undercooked rebellion?"
Lexie blinked. Then laughed. "Sticky rice. Easy."
Jaemin pumped a fist. "She gets it. Finally."
Across the table, Haechan threw her a mock-relieved look.
The tension dipped again.
Mark said nothing. But he didn't leave either.
Later, as the boys got up, Haechan nudged her elbow with exaggerated solemnity. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Lexie rolled her eyes, amused. "You literally do everything you shouldn't."
He grinned and disappeared after the others.
Now it was just the two of them.
Lexie stayed.
The clatter of trays and distant footsteps filled the background. Mark didn't speak at first. Just focused on his food, slower now. More thoughtful.
Then he glanced sideways. "About last night. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop."
Lexie paused, spoon midair.
"I only caught the end," he said. "Didn't mean to intrude."
Her heart thudded once.
"It was just a call," she replied quietly.
But her voice betrayed her, just a little.
Mark nodded, like he heard what she didn't say.
"Didn't sound like nothing," he said gently. "But okay."
Lexie exhaled slowly. No interrogation. No demands. Just understanding.
"You're too observant sometimes," she muttered.
"You're too guarded."
She huffed a breath of laughter. Not defensive—not this time. Just... seen.
Mark set his spoon down. "He means a lot to you."
Lexie didn't flinch.
She nodded. "He does."
That was all.
Mark accepted it. No follow-up.
They sat there, the quiet between them less like silence and more like space. Breathing room. Relearning.
Then he said, "You're different."
Lexie tilted her head and turned to him. "Bad different?"
"No," Mark said. "Like you've lived more lives than the rest of us."
She looked down at her tray. "That's what happens when you grow up twice."
He nodded slowly. "You're still you, though. Just... more."
More.
She didn't know what to say to that. But it landed. Somewhere in her chest, something eased.
"Same to you," she said softly. "Still too earnest. Just less baby-faced."
He smiled at that.
They stood at the same time. Mark gathered both trays before she could reach.
Lexie didn't stop him.