A Studio Mexican Standoff

The next day, inside SM's state-of-the-art recording studio, Jihoon sat comfortably in the composer's chair, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded, staring straight at BOA.

BOA, seated directly across from him, returned his gaze with unwavering intensity.

Silence.

Seconds crawled by.

Minutes dragged on.

Neither blinked. Neither moved.

It was an unspoken duel, a battle of sheer willpower.

Jihoon arched an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement. BOA mirrored his posture, her jaw set, her eyes sharp like a hawk eyeing its prey.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen minutes.

By the thirty-minute mark, the air was thick with tension—almost suffocating.

BOA's eye twitched. A fraction of a second. Barely noticeable. But Jihoon saw it.

He leaned back lazily, exhaling through his nose. Victory was his.

With an exaggerated groan, BOA finally caved. She threw her hands in the air, slumping into her chair.

"Ugh! Fine! You win," she muttered, massaging her temples. "But don't think for a second that I'm letting this slide so easily!"

Jihoon chuckled, tapping his fingers against the armrest. "Of course not. Losing to me must be frustrating."

BOA clicked her tongue. "Ya! Enough with the smug act.

"Listen, I came here for one thing. Either you let me sing the OSTs, or you write me a new song."

Jihoon tilted his head, pretending to ponder deeply. Then, with an exaggerated gasp, he pressed a hand to his chest.

"Oh? Noona, do you actually think I'm your servant now?" he asked, his voice laced with playful indignation.

BOA shot him a withering glare. "Tch. Don't act dumb! Half the songs you write turn into big hits so it's only fair that you help noona out."

Jihoon smirked, shaking his head. "And here I thought you came to support my OST project. Turns out you're just here to recruit me."

He let out a sigh before adding, "Besides, I already promised Jessica this time."

BoA scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Tch. Just as I thought you're going to ask Taeyeon to sing it again." She leaned forward, voice firm. "But listen—either you give me the OST or write me a new song for my album."

"Take your pick."

Jihoon rested his elbows on the desk, pretending to consider her words. "Hmm. And what's in it for me?"

BOA narrowed her eyes. "What do you want?"

Jihoon's smirk widened. "That depends. How badly do you want this song?"

BOA groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Aish! You're impossible."

Jihoon simply leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. "Think about it. We'll talk when you're ready to negotiate properly."

BOA let out a frustrated sigh but couldn't hide the small smirk tugging at her lips.

She knew Jihoon well enough to recognize when he was playing hard to get.

Now with BOA finally out of the way, Jihoon could finally have some peace and quiet to compose the OSTs.

It hadn't been easy.

Because when Jihoon first arrived at SM that morning, BOA was already waiting—positioned strategically in front of the elevator like a hunter lying in ambush.

Arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently, she was fully prepared for battle.

He had no doubt Lee Sooman had tipped her off beforehand.

The moment Jihoon stepped into the building, she latched onto him, trailing his every move like a shadow.

It didn't matter how many times he told her the OST slot had already been taken by Jessica—BOA wasn't one to back down so easily.

"You can always change your mind," she had argued. "Or just write me another one. It's not like you're out of inspiration, right?"

Jihoon had merely smirked. "You think songs grow on trees?"

BOA had glared but eventually let him go—with an exaggerated sigh, of course.

And now, at last, silence.

Seated in the dim glow of SM's recording studio, Jihoon cracked his knuckles and turned his focus back to the sheets of music scattered across the desk.

Two melodies.

Two memories.

Both deeply rooted in his past.

"Perhaps Love."

"I'm A Fool."

Classics—songs that had transcended time, still covered by aspiring artists even in the year 2025. Their emotional weight had never faded, and now, they were about to find new life in an upcoming drama.

Jihoon tapped his pen against the desk rhythmically, recalling the first time these songs had come to life in his mind. They weren't just compositions; they were moments—pieces of history woven into melodies.

He closed his eyes, humming softly, allowing the familiar notes to guide him.

It wasn't long before the music took over.

The gentle weight of the piano keys pressed beneath Jihoon's fingers, the quiet hum of the speakers filling the air, the faint scent of coffee lingering from hours spent in the studio—it all blended together in a familiar, intoxicating haze.

His hands moved instinctively, playing the intro to 'I'm a Fool'. He adjusted the tempo slightly, refining the chord progression to fit the drama's modern tone while preserving the raw emotion that made it timeless.

The soft glow of the studio monitors flickered across his face as he leaned back, fingers tapping idly against the armrest. The speakers hummed a steady rhythm—like the heartbeat of something larger than himself.

This wasn't just about music anymore.

It hadn't been for a long time.

Jihoon's gaze shifted to the city skyline beyond the tinted windows. Even from here, he could envision it—his music drifting into the streets, weaving its way through the pulse of the city, a silent thread binding strangers through melody and memory.

Gangnam.

Hongdae.

Myeongdong.

Seoul was alive, bathed in neon light, its energy endless. And soon, his song would be part of its background music.

Jihoon smirked, letting the thought settle in his mind. The song wasn't even released yet, but he already knew.

This wasn't just an OST.

It was a moment in time, waiting to be lived.

Jihoon exhaled deeply, fingers drumming against the edge of the mixing console as he stared at the lyrics sheet in front of him.

'I'm a Fool.'

In Jihoon's mind, every note crisp, every emotion perfectly placed. It was ready. It was there.

But there was one problem.

The song needed a male singer.

Jihoon sighed, rubbing his temples. Under normal circumstances, this would be an easy fix—hand it over to the drama producers or get Lee Soo-man to find the right vocalist. But honestly? He couldn't be bothered with the back-and-forth.

Which meant there was only one option.

He had to sing it himself.

Jihoon groaned, staring at the studio microphone as if it had personally offended him.

It wasn't that he was bad at singing—he had a decent range, could hold a regular tune, and was perfectly fine for a karaoke session. But this wasn't a drunken night out with friends. This was a drama OST.

Professional level.

And he wasn't exactly confident he could pull that off.

Still, there was no getting around it. A demo was needed. He wasn't about to waste time hunting down a temporary vocalist just to prove a point.

"Fine," he muttered, pushing himself up from his chair. "It's just a demo. No big deal."

Adjusting the mic stand in the recording booth, he took a moment to steady himself. The dim studio lights cast long shadows on the walls, creating a small, enclosed space where only the music mattered.

The instrumental track began playing softly in his headphones.

Jihoon exhaled.

And then he sang.

His voice, unpolished and raw, filled the space. He could hear the imperfections—the slight wavering on certain notes, the places where his control wasn't as sharp. But somehow, that didn't matter.

Because it wasn't about perfection.

It was about feeling.

And in that moment, as the melody wrapped around his voice, Jihoon understood something. The song wasn't just another project. It carried something real—heartache, longing, regret.

By the time he hit the final note, the silence that followed was heavy, charged with something unspoken.

Stepping out of the booth, Jihoon sat back at the console, playing the recording through the speakers. He listened—not with the critical ear of a composer, but with the instinct of someone who knew when something worked.

It wasn't flawless.

But it was real.

And for now, that was enough.

As Jihoon stepped out of the recording booth, he rolled his shoulders, releasing the tension that had built up while singing. He wasn't sure what to expect from the playback—maybe something decent, maybe something cringeworthy—but at least the demo was done.

Then, he noticed her.

BOA.

She had been sitting there the entire time, arms crossed, leaning back against the mixing console, watching him with an unreadable expression.

Jihoon blinked. 

BOA tilted her head slightly, her gaze lingering on him with a strange, almost amused curiosity. Then, after a moment of silence, she finally spoke.

"Didn't expect your voice to be that good."

Jihoon let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hehe, there's a lot more you don't know about me," he said with a playful smirk, trying to act like he hadn't just nervously recorded his first professional demo.

BOA raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Oh yeah?" she mused. "Like what?"

Jihoon shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe I'm just waiting for the right moment to debut."

She snorted, shaking her head. "Sure, and I'm the queen of trot music."

"Hey, don't underestimate me." Jihoon leaned against the console, grinning. "You heard it yourself—I wasn't that bad."

BOA hummed in response, tapping her fingers against her arm. "Yeah.. But you're also not great."

Jihoon's smirk faltered. "Wow, thanks."

"I'm serious," she said, sitting up properly. "Your voice has potential. But you need training. You've got the emotion, but your technique is all over the place. Breathing control, resonance, consistency—it's raw."

Jihoon sighed, already knowing she was right. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'm not a professional singer. It's just a demo."

BOA gave him a pointed look. "Doesn't matter. If you're going to put your voice out there—even as a demo—you should at least make sure it's polished. You don't want people to remember the song because of how rough it sounds."

Jihoon glanced at the studio monitors, where the waveform of his recording was still displayed. He had to admit, she had a point.

After a beat of silence, BOA continued, "You should take some vocal lessons. Work on your technique. It wouldn't hurt and waste your talent."

Jihoon considered it for a moment before shrugging. "I'll think about it."

BOA smirked. "Good. Because if you ever decide to actually debut as a singer, I'd rather not have to cringe when I hear your voice on the charts."

Jihoon laughed, shaking his head. "Wow, you really know how to give a compliment, huh?"

"I try." BOA stretched her arms lazily before standing up. "Anyway, good job in there—for a rookie."

Jihoon rolled his eyes, smirking. "Gee, thanks."

She was already making her way toward the door when she suddenly stopped and turned back, pointing a finger at him.

"Oh, and don't think I forgot about my song!" she said with a knowing smirk. "You still owe me a new song, so get to work."

Before Jihoon could even respond, she spun on her heels and walked out, leaving him staring after her, half-amused, half-exasperated.

He shook his head with a chuckle. 

As the door clicked shut, the studio fell into a comfortable silence. Jihoon leaned back in his chair, letting out a small breath as his gaze drifted toward the screen displaying his recording.

BOA's words lingered in his mind.

Maybe—just maybe—he really would take those lessons.

[Author's Note: Heartfelt thanks to Wandererlithe and Daoist098135 for bestowing the power stone!]