She heard the noise before she saw him. Boxes dragging across the floor, laughter spilling out of the hallway, the faint thud of furniture bumping against walls. Curious, she peeked out of her door. There he was, a boy with messy hair, a crooked smile, and way too many things to carry at once. When his eyes met hers, he froze, caught mid-struggle with a lamp under one arm and a backpack slung over the other. “Oh..hey.” he grinned “Didn’t know the place came with a pretty neighbor.” She raised a brow, trying not to smile. “And I didn’t know it came with midnight construction.” He laughed, finally setting the lamp down. “Then I’ll try to keep it down… unless you don’t mind the noise.” And just like that, the empty apartment next door didn’t feel so empty anymore

Bang Chan Leader. Producer. Idol. The industry calls him the golden boy — disciplined, reliable, always one step ahead. But when the lights go out, he’s just a guy writing songs about things he’s never said out loud. He’s used to controlling the narrative — until she walked in and rewrote everything. y/n Songwriter. Ghost behind the hits. She’s not here for the fame — just the lyrics. Quiet, observant, and razor-sharp, she keeps her name out of the spotlight and her emotions off the page. Except when it comes to him. They weren’t supposed to blur the lines. She was hired to write the songs — not become one.

The parking lot was nearly empty—just the hum of old neon signs and the low rumble of Bang Chan’s engine still cooling off. He was leaning against his car, hoodie pulled up, earbuds in, but not playing anything. Just watching. Listening. That’s when he saw her. She walked in like she didn’t belong—because she didn’t. Hair pulled back, wearing a cardigan of all things, holding her keys like a shield. She looked nervous. Lost. But not fragile. Interesting. He pulled one earbud out, just enough to hear the jingle of her keys hit the pavement. She bent to pick them up, dropped her phone in the process. Swore under her breath. That made him grin. “Rough night?” he called out, voice calm, cocky, and just loud enough to carry. She looked up at him—really looked. No fear. Just surprise. Maybe a hint of curiosity. “You could say that,” she said, brushing hair from her face. “But I’ve had worse.” And just like that, Chan was no longer bored.