Request: OC (Lee Bi An) x Seventeen's Woozi in which Woozi is a music producer and Bi An's talent and hard work is finally recognized.

“No, no, that’s not it. You can’t just force the sound out like that! You’re really damaging your vocal chords.”

Bi An wanted to roll her eyes from where she sat in the recording studio, but she knew that her producer, Woozi, was in plain sight and would probably kick her even more if he caught her being disrespectful. While she felt bad for the other trainees that got scolded, she couldn’t help but feel like she got picked on the most. It was the poor girl’s eleventh try at recording her part that day, and no matter what she did, he was never satisfied.

“Sorry,” she muttered into the microphone.

Woozi sighed, “Sorry doesn’t make your part sound good.” 

 Yeah. The man really made her want to stick pins in her eyes sometimes.

“Just take it from the top again, and this time, you need to relax your throat and jaw. You’re trying to force the sound to come out without any breath to support it. Really open your ribcage and get a deep breath, alright?” Woozi instructed.

Bi An complied and attempted to relax herself, but she just couldn’t help it. The sound came out pinched and whiny, and near the end she felt like she wasn’t even singing anymore; she was just screaming.

It was all her producer’s fault, too. He made her so nervous and jumpy that she had begun to associate the recording studio with the harsh, bitter sound of yelling and the pent-up frustration that came with tears. That totally made her look forward to working with him for many more years.

“Lee Bi An. Tomorrow is the last day of recording for your debut album. Your entire group is counting on you to get it right. I expect you to work hard tonight and go over your part,” Woozi said solemnly before taking off his headphones and exiting the other side of the studio. 

Bi An sat at her stool remorsefully. He may have been a total prick, but he was right. She sounded awful, and tomorrow was the last day for recording. She couldn’t afford to mess up any longer. All of her group-mates had already finished their parts. It was all on Bi An’s shoulders now, and more than anything she felt like crying.

But she had work to do, just like Woozi said. She had one night to make a difference.

~

It was around eleven that night when Bi An finally owned up to her responsibilities. She entered a practice room, the lights, and set up her speakers. She faced the wall and smiled. There’s a certain psychological study that shows if you smile, it tricks your brain into making you feel a tad happier. Bi An used this trick a lot, but lately, the effects were wearing off.

When the first few notes of the music began, she closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing. Being the main vocalist wasn’t easy, and she could very well bring down her entire group if she wasn’t exactly on pitch.

But singing came naturally to Bi An. It was one of her favorite things- which was why she even auditioned to the entertainment label in the first place. 

So, with the face of her producer out her mind, she easily slipped into the song, hitting the highest notes with ease and getting the most difficult jumps in the music with grace. By the end of the song, she was smiling for real now- it wasn’t just a trick. 

“That was amazing,” a voice called out behind her, and Bi An spun around, intensely terrified to find her producer leaning on the door frame to the practice room.

“W-Woozi, you scared me,” she laughed shakily, trying to recover, “How long have been there?”

He shrugged. “Since I heard the song come on. Why can’t you sing like that in the studio?” he asked her.

Bi An stared at him with wide eyes. “W-well, I mean... Er...” she trailed off, rubbing her neck. 

“Is it because of nerves? Are you anxious or stressed? Is it because of the room? Or- oh! Is it because of me?” he asked her all too enthusiastically. Bi An blinked at him.

“What?” she squeaked.

By now, the young producer was almost giddy. “Why didn’t you say that before? We could have solved this a long time ago,” he said vaguely as he came off the door frame and passed her into the practice room, his shoulder brushing hers as he went. He took a stool and sat down in front of her.

“Sing,” he instructed, and Bi An felt like throwing up. She was in a tiny room. Alone. With her producer. Who scared the living hell out of her.

“W-what?” she asked again, thoroughly confused and majorly distressed.

“I said, sing,” he told her again, “Look into my eyes, and sing.” As he said this, the two met gazes and Bi An knew her knees would more than likely give out at any moment.

After a few more moments of silence, Woozi broke their stare and and reached for Bi An’s phone which lay on the piano.

“Here, I’ll start out, okay?” he assured her, and when the music began to play, he sat back down and began singing the first part, which belonged to one of the group’s sub-vocals.

Bi An watched him carefully, her jaw slack and her heart hammering away at what must have been a thousand beats per minute. The way he sang was like hearing all of the Tabernacle Choir on Easter morning. She wondered how long it took him to perfect that voice. If he ever got nervous around his producer. If he had times when he was disappointed in himself because he couldn’t get a part right.

And before she knew it, she was singing along with him. They reached the first chorus and the two met eyes again. This time, Bi An didn’t feel hostility. He was looking at her like he could see her soul. He was a performer through and through, and Bi An knew at that instant there was a very good reason why he was her producer. 

When the song ended, Bi An was nearly out of breath.

“That... was the most fun I’ve ever had singing that song,” she said, her eyes twinkling like champagne bubbles.

“I know, right? You have to remember that you’re not just a singer. You’re a performer. You have to make people feel what you just felt. That’s your job as an artist,” he said thoughtfully. Bi An smiled at him, and she realized it was the first time she’d ever seen Woozi smile like that. He laughed at jokes around his group-mates and smiled when he greeted other people around the company, but she had never seen him smile like he was genuinely... happy.

She blamed the psychology trick. Except this time, it wasn’t her own placebo. It was his smile that made her happy. 

“Right, well, now that that’s cleared up, you should sleep and save your voice for tomorrow,” Woozi said, finally breaking the gleeful atmosphere.

“Oh, yeah... the final recording,” she grumbled, and the weight fell back on her shoulders once more. 

“See you later,” her producer said as a goodbye, and before she knew it, Bi An was left alone thinking what the hell just happened?

~

“Lee Bi An, you can come in for the final recording now,” an assistant called for her from the waiting room. Bi An gulped. It was her last shot at getting it right, or their debut was down the tubes.

She walked into the familiar recording studio and felt her stomach churn. As she sat, she saw the blond head of her producer bobbing up and down with his headphones on. She chuckled a bit, which got his attention. 

“Sorry. The rap just came together really well,” he stated before turning a few dials on the soundboard and clicking the computer mouse a couple times.

“Okay. This is Lee Bi An, day three, take one,” Woozi said into the microphone on his side before starting the music. Bi An gulped.

When her part came, she closed her eyes and let her voice out, almost reaching the notes, but it all came out pinched like the day before. She cursed herself as Woozi stopped the track.

“Bi An,” he called out, “Look at me.”

She complied and when their eyes met, his face melted into a soft smile. Bi An blinked for a moment before it registered. The feeling from last night was back.

“You’re an artist, remember? Look into my eyes, and sing,” he instructed, and Bi An smiled. The music came on again, and before she knew it, her part came on and suddenly, there was no recording studio. There was no microphone or final-recording pressure. It was just her, Woozi, and the music. 

She sailed through the high notes and reached all the weird pitches with little effort. She focused on that feeling she savored when she sang- on trying to put those feelings out so Woozi could feel them, too. 

Because she wasn’t just a singer. She was a performer.