Like Money - 2/? (EXO AU Multi-shot)
Title: Like Money (2/?)
Author: himawarixxsandz
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): KrisHan, BaekYeol, mentions of past!TaoRis, ChenRis, KrisYeol, KrisLay, SuRis,
Summary: It's the only thing he loves
A/N: School starting next week so the world of semi-fast updating is ending as we know it T.T lmfao but since when did i ever update fast this summer anyway lol. but yeah i haven't forgotten about apartment, but let's just call it on a little hiatus for now okie doke. also if you haven't read the sukai sidestory, you probably should or else you'll be confused ;;
Prologue // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3
Kris admires the skill in which he’s able to move all of the broccolis on his plate onto Jongdae’s without Sehun (immersed in detailing to Kris how he wants Kris’s character to be portrayed) noticing. Admittedly, the actor thinks that he would’ve been able to move the vegetables faster if he had chopsticks but this is a Western-style restaurant. The manager’s face has grown sullen, glaring at Kris as discreetly as possible so the other actors and actresses don’t notice the exchange of stink-eyes between Kris Wu and his Good-Looking Manager.
“And Luhan-hyung,” Sehun says, as Kris tears his gaze away from Jongdae (kicking the manager underneath the table for good measure because Jongdae must think the world is flat if the manager thinks that Kris is going to eat broccoli).
Kris looks at the director. “You know Luhan-shii?” he asks, making a sideways glance towards the other end of the table where Luhan is intently dissecting a canoli.
Sehun gives an odd little smile. “If I didn’t know him, you think he’d be in this movie? I’m still in shock-actually-that you’re in it. You’re my first choice, but I thought there’d be no way you’d say yes, so I-”
“How do you know him?” Kris cuts the younger man off flatly.
The director stares at Kris’s tone. “Um,” Sehun licks his lips slowly, “we’re-friends?”
Kris squints.
Sehun blinks.
“When’s the first script-reading?” Jongdae leans around Kris and raises his eyebrows at the director.
Kris elbows the manager in the chest and plasters himself to the table, blocking Sehun’s view of Jongdae writhing in pain over his creamed asparagus. “When did you meet Luhan-shii?” Kris asks and ignores how Sehun is now looking at the actor the same way Kris looked at a squirrel choking on an overly large nut just this past Monday.
The night is cool and breezy-a relief from the unusually hot spring weather Seoul had been going through for the past few weeks. They’re all gathered in front of the restaurant, waiting for their respective drivers to come pick them up from the parking (a ways off from the building the restaurant is in). There’s a tap on Kris’s shoulder while Jongdae is hissing to him about how the actor can’t just keep bruising the manager like that during business dinners.
It’s Luhan.
“What?” Kris says, looking down at the other man.
Luhan looks amused. He waves-unnecessary and annoying because Kris is standing inches away. “You don’t seem very happy to see me,” Luhan says sweetly in Mandarin (Jongdae’s face falls into confusion), “despite the fact that you stalked me so diligently and all.”
“I didn’t st-”
“Little movies by rookie directors aren’t really Kris Wu’s thing,” Luhan wrinkles his nose. He laughs. “It’s a cute gesture though-I’m flattered.”
Kris shrugs. “You don’t know what my thing is,” he sniffs. “You don’t know how I roll.”
Luhan bursts into incredulous (loud) laughter, and the remaining members of the cast-the ones who have yet to be picked up-turn around and stare. “Okay,” Luhan says, swiping his fingertips at his eyes (even though Kris personally can’t find any gathered teardrops). “I don’t know how you roll.”
Kris folds his arms over his chest because he fails to find humor in any of this. “I like the storyline,” he says defensively, “of this movie.”
Luhan tilts his head, raising his eyebrows and blinking slowly. Another highly amused smile twists his pink lips. “Me too,” he says in a tone that feels like a straight punch to Kris’s pasta-filled stomach. Luhan is taking Kris about as seriously as Kris took the marinara on that restaurant’s spaghetti.
Kris is about to open his mouth in a retort when Jongdae suddenly grabs the actor’s arm and yanks him towards their just-arrived car. “I-”
“Looking forward to the script reading, Kris-shii,” Luhan waves as Kris is unceremoniously stuffed into the backseat by Jongdae and the driver.
Jongdae is the best go-to Kris has whenever the actor wants to make a particularly satisfying purchase but Jongdae, despite being Kris’s manager and not even another celebrity, is one of the hardest people to reach in the entire sphere of Korean entertainment. Kris especially doesn’t like to recall all the various times he thought an idol or an actor or an actress was trying to give Kris their number when it was actually meant for Jongdae for reasons Kris still cannot fathom to this very day.
The manager is even more difficult to get a hold of on his days-off when, even though Kris isn’t always sure where exactly in Seoul Jongdae is, the manager is bound to be with Kim Minseok (a producer for the company-usually in charge of Suho’s concepts). Kris applauds their relationship as long as he doesn’t bump into them making-out on a conference table that the actor later has to brunch on.
Thus, nowadays, Kris doesn’t even bother pressing the speed-dial for Jongdae’s number and goes straight to the one below it. He calls, speaks, gets into the car, and in half an hour pulls up to meet Junmyeon in front of a clothing boutique specializing in imports. Junmyeon is masked up, complete with large sunglasses despite the fact that it’s a rather overcast spring day.
“You’re not that famous,” Kris says waspishly, as three girls gather at the street corner across from where he and Junmyeon stand. The girls begin to take out their cell phones and text while staring at the back of Junmyeon’s head so Kris pulls the singer quickly into the store before they call their friends.
“Jongdae was busy, huh?” Junmyeon asks, pulling off his mask and glasses as they bow to the employees. The mask hangs from the singer’s neck and the glasses are clipped onto the collar of his shirt.
Kris strides through the store breezily, eyeing the racks of suits and the example mannequins. “What’re you talking about?” he snorts. “I love hanging out with you.”
Junmyeon grins. “Okay.” He comes to stand beside Kris as the actor fingers the sleeve of a gray suit. “What’s the occasion?”
“The award I’m going to get for this gay movie thing,” Kris replies easily.
“You mean the one you haven’t even started reading for,” Junmyeon sounds amused.
Kris nods. He glances over his shoulder back at the singer.
Junmyeon rolls his eyes and smiles, as the actor raises his eyebrows slightly and grins back.
“I’m thinking this one,” Kris says, stepping to the side to a dark-silvered pinstriped suit. “But this one’s almost the same,” he points to the one on the rack next to it, “and the stripes are shinier.”
Junmyeon grabs the price tag on the second suit. “I think this one’s more expensive-it’s newer and limited edition.”
Kris waves an employee over. “I’ll take this one,” he says, gesturing towards the suit. “Can I get a date next week for a fitting?”
“I thought you had script readings all next week,” Junmyeon mock-whispers playfully as the employee nods and heads back to the desk to check for openings. Kris shrugs and tosses an arm lightly around the singer’s shoulders, leading him back to the mannequins at the front of the store.
The actor jerks his chin. “You should buy something.”
Junmyeon raises his eyebrows again in amusement. “No thanks.”
Kris drops his arm from the singer’s shoulders as the employee returns, asking for Kris’s credit card and a signature. “So,” Kris says as she leaves momentarily with his card, “how’s he doing?” He turns back to Junmyeon with a significant look.
The younger man blinks for a moment, eyes slowly widening as he bites his lips and looks down. “Okay,” Junmyeon says, jaw tensing. He looks up at Kris with a hidden expression that lets Kris know far more than everything Junmyeon can’t and won’t ever say. Kris wraps his arm around Junmyeon’s neck, holding the younger man’s head against the actor’s chest. He ruffles Junmyeon’s hair gently.
The female employee returns with Kris’s card and the actor tucks it back into his wallet. “C’mon,” he says, turning to Junmyeon. He tugs lightly at the sunglasses hanging from the singer’s collar. “Put them back on. We’re leaving-I’m taking you for bingsoo.”
Junmyeon’s deadened expression leaves-surprise taking its place. “People’ll see.”
“That’s why you have these,” Kris says impatiently, tugging again at the glasses. “And you’re not that famous. I have fans too.”
The singer laughs, and Kris makes sure to turn for the door before he lets himself smile at the sound. Junmyeon has a nice laugh, a pretty smile, a flirty grin, so Kris likes to make sure that at least one of the three is always on the singer’s face.
(if only the same could be said for Kim Jongin)
“Why are you late again?” Jongdae hisses, as he runs beside Kris (the actor is not running-the actor is speed-walking).
Kris checks the time on his phone. “I was at a suit-fitting with Zitao.”
“Zitao bought a suit?”
“No-I bought a suit.”
“You bought a suit?”
“Oh my God,” Kris snaps. “Shut up.”
Jongdae’s mouth is open to retort but Kris is already ducking into the conference room, slamming the door open and hurling himself into a ninety-degree bow. “Traffic,” Jongdae says, as Kris shoves the manager forward into a ninety-degree bow of his own, “was unbelievable.”
The rest of the cast and Sehun stare from their seats at the long table. The only person not looking in the direction of the doorway is Luhan-fingers breezily stroking the screen of his phone, eyes intent. Kris ignores the pulsing in his head at the sight. “Sorry,” the actor says to Sehun as he takes a seat beside the director (across from Luhan) and Jongdae gives a short wave before exiting the room.
“It’s okay-”
“Where’d you come from?” Luhan chirps brightly, cutting Sehun off. “Because my last meeting ran a little late so I just got here too and the road I took was fine.”
Kris blinks. “I took the road,” he says, “with a lot of traffic.”
There’s a snort somewhere down the table.
“Okay,” Sehun says after an odd pause during which Kris tries his best to stare down mockingly inquisitive, deer eyes (and fails with the stinging, watery eyeballs to prove it), “Let’s just go through the script from the beginning and see how far we get.”
Kris vehemently turns to the first page.
The script reading proceeds as all Kris’s script readings do with Kris reciting all of his lines to maximum emotional satisfaction and the rest of the cast, so awed by his performance, are dumbstruck into silence by the end of the rehearsal. Kris adjusts the rolled sleeves of his shirt as he stands, and notes how Sehun is looking particularly dumbstruck (most likely overly moved by Kris’s performance) and even Luhan is staring blankly at Kris.
They end the reading early evening so some of the cast head off in clumps for drinks. The actress who plays the secretary for Kris’s character gives a shy invitation that he declines with a curt bow. He’s about to head out and call Jongdae to see if the actor has anything else scheduled for the evening (if not, then Kris wants to head back to the suit shop because he doesn’t think they understand exactly how long his legs are) when there’s a tap on his shoulder.
Luhan waves in a stiff-handed arc. “Hi,” he says, still using the chirpy voice that gives Kris an ear infection.
“Shoo,” Kris says and swats a nonexistent fly in the air.
“Right,” Luhan nods. “So-Sehunie says we should hang out a bit before the script reading ends so it won’t be too awkward when filming starts next week.”
Kris tucks his phone into his back pocket. “Why would it be awkward?”
“We have to pretend we’re having sex.”
“We’ve already had real sex,” Kris says.
“In front of other people?” Luhan looks amused. “With lots of cameras?”
Kris opens his mouth, tilts his head, narrows his eyes, “I mean-”
“You have previous engagements?” Luhan asks, blinking his round eyes in a way that makes Kris feel like judged marinara sauce again.
“No,” Kris says because he feels that if he tells Luhan about the suit-fitting, he’s going to be even more severely judged as marinara sauce. “Let me tell my manager first-”
“See you on Wednesday,” Sehun says, passing by them briskly with the last of the cast. The director waves as they all head through the door, leaving Kris and Luhan as the last ones in the conference room.
Luhan’s arm shoots out, preventing Kris from taking out his cell phone. “I’m not kidnapping you, Kris-shii,” Luhan grins, “and I’m sure your manager knows you’re a big boy.”
While Kris agrees that there is no possibility of Luhan kidnapping someone twice his height, Kris disagrees with Luhan’s opinion on Jongdae’s assumptions of the manager’s charge because two weeks ago Jongdae bought Kris a packet of Pampers that’d been on sale and left it at Kris’s doorstep with a sticky note that said just in case.
“My car’s with my manager,” Kris says, “so where’re you taking me?”
Luhan smiles oddly. “Where d’you want to go?”
Twenty minutes finds Kris in the passenger seat of Luhan’s car in the parking lot of what Kris is pretty sure is a park (it’s hard to tell through the darkness that descended on them while they were on the road), which strikes Kris as rather strange and confusing because Luhan had asked Kris where he wanted to go and Kris had responded with the name of a high-end Japanese restaurant downtown near the agency office.
“I’m hungry, though,” Kris says, as he takes off his seatbelt and follows Luhan out of the car.
“Me, too,” Luhan laughs. He lightly slaps Kris’s arm. “C’mon.”
The streetlamps are on and despite it being a weeknight, there’re a fair share of couples that pass them on the pathway that leads through the park. Luhan leads Kris deep enough into the park that Kris can no longer make out the parking lot through the thicket of trees and bicycle rental buildings. It’s probably less than ten minutes after they departed from the car that they reach a rather lonely, skimpy excuse for a gazebo-tiny enough that Kris would have to duck in order to fit into it. It stands right beside a street food stand.
Luhan gestures for Kris to sit down on the wooden edge. Kris stares doubtfully down at the dusty and dirt on the planks and wonders if it’s worth it to ask Luhan if he has a picnic mat in his car. “For Christ’s sakes,” Luhan yanks Kris down by the wrist, “just sit.”
Kris sits-and tips his face upward to glare at the other man.
“I’m going to get you food,” Luhan says, and Kris doesn’t understand why Luhan always has to sound so amused because nothing is even funny.
Food?
Where-
In an effort to stop Luhan, Kris shoots up without remembering that this gazebo is not built for the height of a non-average Asian male, and his head rams into the wooden ceiling (his arms flail, his body hits a pole, his legs tangle with the splintering edge of the platform). Luhan is startled midway to the shack and turns for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at Kris splattered like an egg-laughs-and continues on his way.
Kris feels like no matter how attractive Luhan is, Kris’s pants don’t deserve this kind of treatment. He makes sure Luhan is completely immersed in buying food before he brushes off as much mulch as he can from his pants and tries to telepathically convey how they just have to endure this for a few hours and then Kris will, rest assured, drive them to the open-all-night-emergency-dry-cleaning center across Zitao’s apartment complex.
His pants have somewhat been comforted by the time Luhan returns, hands holding deep-fried monstrosities on popsicle sticks and arms filled with ice-cold bottles dripping with condensation. “Why’re you staring at your legs?” Luhan asks quizzically as he puts the drinks down and sits beside Kris.
“I’m not,” Kris snaps.
Luhan doesn’t look convinced as the corners of his small, pink lips push his cheeks up. “I got you food,” he says and holds one of the battered and ketchup-ed demons out towards Kris.
Kris eyes it critically. “How much was that?” he asks, shrinking away from it.
Luhan blinks, already biting into his own. “Does it matter?” he says around a mouthful. “It’s good. It’s food.”
“Can you swallow before you talk?” Kris winces, backing up even further.
Luhan slides forward, mouth open with half-chewed food on full display, and purposefully sticks his tongue out (covered in half-chewed food), wiggling it at Kris.
Kris smacks him away and Luhan finally swallows, throwing his head back and laughing as Kris tries to forget what partially processed food going down a human’s esophagus looks like. He grabs the other corndog out of Luhan’s hand and glumly bites off a mouthful-glummer still as he chews because it fucking tastes good (but Kris is starving so anything tastes good because this doesn’t actually taste good).
“Good job,” Luhan says, and pats Kris on the back with enough force to nearly send the contents of Kris’s mouth onto the floor of the gazebo.
“For someone so hot,” Kris says once he swallows, “you’re really annoying.”
“Thanks,” the other man says, and flashes a peace sign. Luhan takes another bite of his own corndog and hands Kris one of the bottles of iced tea. “For someone so hot,” Luhan says thickly, mouth filled with hotdog and batter (Kris winces), “you’re really a douchebag about money.”
Kris screws the cap of the tea back on. “Thanks,” he says, and V-signs back.
Luhan laughs.
It’s barely ten when Luhan drops Kris back off at his apartment building. “Don’t be late again,” Luhan sings, hanging out of the car window and waving.
Kris rolls his eyes.
Luhan grins, winking before he raises the window and drives off.
Kris watches the car turn out of the complex and out onto the road. The night breeze whips his hair into his face. He pockets his left hand, holding the half-finished iced tea with his right. The actor wonders why Luhan hasn’t mentioned the note yet.
The rest script reading week goes by without Kris being caught in horrendous traffic, and with Luhan and Kris interchanging the days that one takes the other out to dinner-Luhan’s mopus operandi being the park, an empty playground, a quiet food stand, and Kris’s choice of dining being Seoul’s top ten priciest restaurants and eateries. They talk about their schedules, about future projects, about things with and without substance, but neither of them brings up their personal lives and neither of them brings up whether or not the competition has eased up.
On the day of the last script reading, Kris has to duck out of one last dinner at the park. “Sorry,” he says, once they’re the only two in the conference room again.
“Previous engagements?” Luhan raises his eyebrows with a half-smile.
“Sort of,” Kris tilts his head and returns the half-smile with one of his own. “If you like action movies, it’s not that much of a secret.”
Luhan stares for a moment before bursting into a short breath of laughter. “Ah,” he grins. “He’s your friend? No-wait,” Luhan sticks out his tongue and laughs again (crinkles at the corners of otherwise round eyes, and Kris’s heart blushes), “he’s-you-really?”
“I never knew Park Chanyeol sent off such straight vibes,” Kris snorts. “He’s with the other guy.”
Luhan’s mouth drops. Another peal of ringing, incredulous laughter falls from his lips. “Byun Baekhyun too?”
“No, wait I didn’t-him-”
“Yeah, no-I meant he’s gay too, then, right-”
“Last time I checked,” Kris says, “Chanyeol has a dick.”
“Mm,” Luhan has his arms folded now, lips pursed thoughtfully. “See-yeah-Byun Baekhyun I could see, but-wow-Park Chanyeol. He’s an action guy, though. Like-I’ve never seen him in a romance?”
Kris snorts again. “Stereotypes,” he says dismissively and Luhan smiles.
“That’s funny, though,” Luhan says with a sort of amused excitement that dumbfounds Kris because how is any of this funny? (It feels like Luhan always finds one thing or another funny-out of everything and anything) “Like-in this movie-the one premiering today, don’t they both have scenes with separate actresses?”
“It’s the same actress,” Kris says. “Because they’re fighting over her-”
“Oh-right-but then-”
“Yeah, in the end, Baekhyun has a scene with another actress though.”
Luhan grins. “Thanks for the spoiler.”
Kris blinks. “Oh-I-oh, sorry.”
“Have fun,” Luhan laughs, touching Kris’s arm lightly. “And don’t be late for filming on Monday,” he says with a grin. “Everyone was so proud of you dodging the terrible traffic.”
Kris looks down at Luhan for a moment, while the other man makes peace signs with both of his hands and places them level to his cheeks. “Fuck, you’re annoying,” Kris says.
Luhan flashes a toothy grin and waves Kris out the door.
Zitao is texting when Kris slides into the backseat of the model’s car. “You’re late,” the younger man says from the passenger seat, as his chauffeur rolls out of the parking space and heads for the parking garage’s exit. “You said you’d be out like ten minutes ago.”
“He wanted to talk a bit,” Kris says, putting on his seatbelt and leaning forward until his chin rests on the back edge of Zitao’s seat. “Sorry,” he says, briefly touching his lips to the younger man’s cheek.
“Oh-God-God,” Zitao flails, and laughs incredulously. “Ge-that’s disgusting.”
Kris grins and looks to the side, stretching out his arm-his hand meets plastic and metal and cloth and he asks, “You couldn’t have gotten one that matched my hair better?”
“Jongdae-ge sent it,” Zitao says, turning his head back to meet Kris’s eyes. “He said it was the one your stylist got-your endorsement campaign?”
“Christ, I’m not Suho,” Kris mumbles, wrinkling his nose at the suit. “I wanted to wear the new one I just bought but it’s not ready yet.”
“I thought you were saving that one for the award show, anyway.” Zitao taps the chauffeur’s shoulder and points to switch lanes.
Kris sniffs. “I can buy another suit,” he says indignantly.
“Ge-it’s fine,” Zitao grins exasperatedly. “You look hot in whatever you wear-the press’ll like it, and it’s a good brand to endorse for. I had them last season-they sell so much, it’s awesome.”
The actor sighs, running a hand down the suit hanging from the hook attached to the car ceiling. “They could’ve at least gotten a better shirt,” he says, frowning. “It’s fucking white-isn’t that boring? It’s white. I wanted apricot.”
“Shut up, ge,” Zitao laughs, and puts in earphones before Kris can retort. The actor kicks the back of the model’s seat.
Changing in the car, Kris thinks, would be a lot easier if Zitao’s chauffeur didn’t feel the need to challenge every Seoul bus driver to a death match.
By the time Kris and Zitao have finished the red carpet, the blinding cameras, and the crowd of microphones at the theater entrance, Junmyeon is already waiting for them in the second row-directly behind where Baekhyun and Chanyeol will sit with the film’s director for the premier screening. “Yixing couldn’t make it?” Junmyeon blinks, as Kris and Zitao slide into the row.
“Sick,” Zitao says, flapping his hand in front of his face. “I think stomach flu.”
“Jongdae and Minseok are making sure he’s alive until he stops puking,” Kris says, sitting down between Zitao and Junmyeon. “That’s why I haven’t had a manager for this entire week-been going alone to all my fucking schedules that Jongdae sends me through fucking text.”
“Is that why Minseok was late sending me my album files?” Junmyeon asks curiously. “Kyungsoo and I wanted to hear everything before he sends it in, but he hasn’t gotten back to me. We’re supposed to have lunch tomorrow though.”
“I mean,” a deep voice says and the three look up. “They could just be busy making-out.” Park Chanyeol’s wide eyes blink down at them from where he stands in the first row, grin flashing a mouthful of perfect, white teeth. “Hey-you guys aren’t late.”
“We almost were,” Zitao says, and pats Kris on the back, “Thanks to this hyung flirting with his new co-star.”
Chanyeol’s grin broadens, taking Kris’s hand and bumping shoulders with him. “Ay,” he says, and Kris’s own lips instantly turn up at the corners when he meets the younger man’s gaze. “Good job.”
(everything still stings a little, but it’s getting better)
Chanyeol turns just then, holding out his arm as Baekhyun walks up to join them, sliding into the first row turning in for a hug from Junmyeon. Baekhyun laughs at something the singer says before stepping back into Chanyeol, the taller man keeping an arm around Baekhyun’s shoulders. (he’s relieved when it barely hurts at all now-a tiny pang, but tiny enough to ignore-nothing compared to the throbbing aches when the wound was still freshly ripped)
“Hope you guys like it,” Baekhyun says, grinning.
“As long as your sex scene doesn’t disappoint,” Kris says just before the lights go down and Baekhyun laughs, slapping Kris’s shoulder.
The film is filled with action, romance, and comedy-a film about two assassins who wage war against each other when they fall in love with the same woman. Throughout the screening, Kris’s eyes can’t help but continuously notice Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s shadowed silhouettes leaning against each other, whispering and laughing under their breaths at different scenes-memories they must’ve shared during filming.
Kris smiles to himself-resigned and accepting (and sad, but what else can he do?).
He’s happy Chanyeol is happy.
Author: himawarixxsandz
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): KrisHan, BaekYeol, mentions of past!TaoRis, ChenRis, KrisYeol, KrisLay, SuRis,
Summary: It's the only thing he loves
A/N: School starting next week so the world of semi-fast updating is ending as we know it T.T lmfao but since when did i ever update fast this summer anyway lol. but yeah i haven't forgotten about apartment, but let's just call it on a little hiatus for now okie doke. also if you haven't read the sukai sidestory, you probably should or else you'll be confused ;;
Prologue // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3
Kris admires the skill in which he’s able to move all of the broccolis on his plate onto Jongdae’s without Sehun (immersed in detailing to Kris how he wants Kris’s character to be portrayed) noticing. Admittedly, the actor thinks that he would’ve been able to move the vegetables faster if he had chopsticks but this is a Western-style restaurant. The manager’s face has grown sullen, glaring at Kris as discreetly as possible so the other actors and actresses don’t notice the exchange of stink-eyes between Kris Wu and his Good-Looking Manager.
“And Luhan-hyung,” Sehun says, as Kris tears his gaze away from Jongdae (kicking the manager underneath the table for good measure because Jongdae must think the world is flat if the manager thinks that Kris is going to eat broccoli).
Kris looks at the director. “You know Luhan-shii?” he asks, making a sideways glance towards the other end of the table where Luhan is intently dissecting a canoli.
Sehun gives an odd little smile. “If I didn’t know him, you think he’d be in this movie? I’m still in shock-actually-that you’re in it. You’re my first choice, but I thought there’d be no way you’d say yes, so I-”
“How do you know him?” Kris cuts the younger man off flatly.
The director stares at Kris’s tone. “Um,” Sehun licks his lips slowly, “we’re-friends?”
Kris squints.
Sehun blinks.
“When’s the first script-reading?” Jongdae leans around Kris and raises his eyebrows at the director.
Kris elbows the manager in the chest and plasters himself to the table, blocking Sehun’s view of Jongdae writhing in pain over his creamed asparagus. “When did you meet Luhan-shii?” Kris asks and ignores how Sehun is now looking at the actor the same way Kris looked at a squirrel choking on an overly large nut just this past Monday.
The night is cool and breezy-a relief from the unusually hot spring weather Seoul had been going through for the past few weeks. They’re all gathered in front of the restaurant, waiting for their respective drivers to come pick them up from the parking (a ways off from the building the restaurant is in). There’s a tap on Kris’s shoulder while Jongdae is hissing to him about how the actor can’t just keep bruising the manager like that during business dinners.
It’s Luhan.
“What?” Kris says, looking down at the other man.
Luhan looks amused. He waves-unnecessary and annoying because Kris is standing inches away. “You don’t seem very happy to see me,” Luhan says sweetly in Mandarin (Jongdae’s face falls into confusion), “despite the fact that you stalked me so diligently and all.”
“I didn’t st-”
“Little movies by rookie directors aren’t really Kris Wu’s thing,” Luhan wrinkles his nose. He laughs. “It’s a cute gesture though-I’m flattered.”
Kris shrugs. “You don’t know what my thing is,” he sniffs. “You don’t know how I roll.”
Luhan bursts into incredulous (loud) laughter, and the remaining members of the cast-the ones who have yet to be picked up-turn around and stare. “Okay,” Luhan says, swiping his fingertips at his eyes (even though Kris personally can’t find any gathered teardrops). “I don’t know how you roll.”
Kris folds his arms over his chest because he fails to find humor in any of this. “I like the storyline,” he says defensively, “of this movie.”
Luhan tilts his head, raising his eyebrows and blinking slowly. Another highly amused smile twists his pink lips. “Me too,” he says in a tone that feels like a straight punch to Kris’s pasta-filled stomach. Luhan is taking Kris about as seriously as Kris took the marinara on that restaurant’s spaghetti.
Kris is about to open his mouth in a retort when Jongdae suddenly grabs the actor’s arm and yanks him towards their just-arrived car. “I-”
“Looking forward to the script reading, Kris-shii,” Luhan waves as Kris is unceremoniously stuffed into the backseat by Jongdae and the driver.
Jongdae is the best go-to Kris has whenever the actor wants to make a particularly satisfying purchase but Jongdae, despite being Kris’s manager and not even another celebrity, is one of the hardest people to reach in the entire sphere of Korean entertainment. Kris especially doesn’t like to recall all the various times he thought an idol or an actor or an actress was trying to give Kris their number when it was actually meant for Jongdae for reasons Kris still cannot fathom to this very day.
The manager is even more difficult to get a hold of on his days-off when, even though Kris isn’t always sure where exactly in Seoul Jongdae is, the manager is bound to be with Kim Minseok (a producer for the company-usually in charge of Suho’s concepts). Kris applauds their relationship as long as he doesn’t bump into them making-out on a conference table that the actor later has to brunch on.
Thus, nowadays, Kris doesn’t even bother pressing the speed-dial for Jongdae’s number and goes straight to the one below it. He calls, speaks, gets into the car, and in half an hour pulls up to meet Junmyeon in front of a clothing boutique specializing in imports. Junmyeon is masked up, complete with large sunglasses despite the fact that it’s a rather overcast spring day.
“You’re not that famous,” Kris says waspishly, as three girls gather at the street corner across from where he and Junmyeon stand. The girls begin to take out their cell phones and text while staring at the back of Junmyeon’s head so Kris pulls the singer quickly into the store before they call their friends.
“Jongdae was busy, huh?” Junmyeon asks, pulling off his mask and glasses as they bow to the employees. The mask hangs from the singer’s neck and the glasses are clipped onto the collar of his shirt.
Kris strides through the store breezily, eyeing the racks of suits and the example mannequins. “What’re you talking about?” he snorts. “I love hanging out with you.”
Junmyeon grins. “Okay.” He comes to stand beside Kris as the actor fingers the sleeve of a gray suit. “What’s the occasion?”
“The award I’m going to get for this gay movie thing,” Kris replies easily.
“You mean the one you haven’t even started reading for,” Junmyeon sounds amused.
Kris nods. He glances over his shoulder back at the singer.
Junmyeon rolls his eyes and smiles, as the actor raises his eyebrows slightly and grins back.
“I’m thinking this one,” Kris says, stepping to the side to a dark-silvered pinstriped suit. “But this one’s almost the same,” he points to the one on the rack next to it, “and the stripes are shinier.”
Junmyeon grabs the price tag on the second suit. “I think this one’s more expensive-it’s newer and limited edition.”
Kris waves an employee over. “I’ll take this one,” he says, gesturing towards the suit. “Can I get a date next week for a fitting?”
“I thought you had script readings all next week,” Junmyeon mock-whispers playfully as the employee nods and heads back to the desk to check for openings. Kris shrugs and tosses an arm lightly around the singer’s shoulders, leading him back to the mannequins at the front of the store.
The actor jerks his chin. “You should buy something.”
Junmyeon raises his eyebrows again in amusement. “No thanks.”
Kris drops his arm from the singer’s shoulders as the employee returns, asking for Kris’s credit card and a signature. “So,” Kris says as she leaves momentarily with his card, “how’s he doing?” He turns back to Junmyeon with a significant look.
The younger man blinks for a moment, eyes slowly widening as he bites his lips and looks down. “Okay,” Junmyeon says, jaw tensing. He looks up at Kris with a hidden expression that lets Kris know far more than everything Junmyeon can’t and won’t ever say. Kris wraps his arm around Junmyeon’s neck, holding the younger man’s head against the actor’s chest. He ruffles Junmyeon’s hair gently.
The female employee returns with Kris’s card and the actor tucks it back into his wallet. “C’mon,” he says, turning to Junmyeon. He tugs lightly at the sunglasses hanging from the singer’s collar. “Put them back on. We’re leaving-I’m taking you for bingsoo.”
Junmyeon’s deadened expression leaves-surprise taking its place. “People’ll see.”
“That’s why you have these,” Kris says impatiently, tugging again at the glasses. “And you’re not that famous. I have fans too.”
The singer laughs, and Kris makes sure to turn for the door before he lets himself smile at the sound. Junmyeon has a nice laugh, a pretty smile, a flirty grin, so Kris likes to make sure that at least one of the three is always on the singer’s face.
(if only the same could be said for Kim Jongin)
“Why are you late again?” Jongdae hisses, as he runs beside Kris (the actor is not running-the actor is speed-walking).
Kris checks the time on his phone. “I was at a suit-fitting with Zitao.”
“Zitao bought a suit?”
“No-I bought a suit.”
“You bought a suit?”
“Oh my God,” Kris snaps. “Shut up.”
Jongdae’s mouth is open to retort but Kris is already ducking into the conference room, slamming the door open and hurling himself into a ninety-degree bow. “Traffic,” Jongdae says, as Kris shoves the manager forward into a ninety-degree bow of his own, “was unbelievable.”
The rest of the cast and Sehun stare from their seats at the long table. The only person not looking in the direction of the doorway is Luhan-fingers breezily stroking the screen of his phone, eyes intent. Kris ignores the pulsing in his head at the sight. “Sorry,” the actor says to Sehun as he takes a seat beside the director (across from Luhan) and Jongdae gives a short wave before exiting the room.
“It’s okay-”
“Where’d you come from?” Luhan chirps brightly, cutting Sehun off. “Because my last meeting ran a little late so I just got here too and the road I took was fine.”
Kris blinks. “I took the road,” he says, “with a lot of traffic.”
There’s a snort somewhere down the table.
“Okay,” Sehun says after an odd pause during which Kris tries his best to stare down mockingly inquisitive, deer eyes (and fails with the stinging, watery eyeballs to prove it), “Let’s just go through the script from the beginning and see how far we get.”
Kris vehemently turns to the first page.
The script reading proceeds as all Kris’s script readings do with Kris reciting all of his lines to maximum emotional satisfaction and the rest of the cast, so awed by his performance, are dumbstruck into silence by the end of the rehearsal. Kris adjusts the rolled sleeves of his shirt as he stands, and notes how Sehun is looking particularly dumbstruck (most likely overly moved by Kris’s performance) and even Luhan is staring blankly at Kris.
They end the reading early evening so some of the cast head off in clumps for drinks. The actress who plays the secretary for Kris’s character gives a shy invitation that he declines with a curt bow. He’s about to head out and call Jongdae to see if the actor has anything else scheduled for the evening (if not, then Kris wants to head back to the suit shop because he doesn’t think they understand exactly how long his legs are) when there’s a tap on his shoulder.
Luhan waves in a stiff-handed arc. “Hi,” he says, still using the chirpy voice that gives Kris an ear infection.
“Shoo,” Kris says and swats a nonexistent fly in the air.
“Right,” Luhan nods. “So-Sehunie says we should hang out a bit before the script reading ends so it won’t be too awkward when filming starts next week.”
Kris tucks his phone into his back pocket. “Why would it be awkward?”
“We have to pretend we’re having sex.”
“We’ve already had real sex,” Kris says.
“In front of other people?” Luhan looks amused. “With lots of cameras?”
Kris opens his mouth, tilts his head, narrows his eyes, “I mean-”
“You have previous engagements?” Luhan asks, blinking his round eyes in a way that makes Kris feel like judged marinara sauce again.
“No,” Kris says because he feels that if he tells Luhan about the suit-fitting, he’s going to be even more severely judged as marinara sauce. “Let me tell my manager first-”
“See you on Wednesday,” Sehun says, passing by them briskly with the last of the cast. The director waves as they all head through the door, leaving Kris and Luhan as the last ones in the conference room.
Luhan’s arm shoots out, preventing Kris from taking out his cell phone. “I’m not kidnapping you, Kris-shii,” Luhan grins, “and I’m sure your manager knows you’re a big boy.”
While Kris agrees that there is no possibility of Luhan kidnapping someone twice his height, Kris disagrees with Luhan’s opinion on Jongdae’s assumptions of the manager’s charge because two weeks ago Jongdae bought Kris a packet of Pampers that’d been on sale and left it at Kris’s doorstep with a sticky note that said just in case.
“My car’s with my manager,” Kris says, “so where’re you taking me?”
Luhan smiles oddly. “Where d’you want to go?”
Twenty minutes finds Kris in the passenger seat of Luhan’s car in the parking lot of what Kris is pretty sure is a park (it’s hard to tell through the darkness that descended on them while they were on the road), which strikes Kris as rather strange and confusing because Luhan had asked Kris where he wanted to go and Kris had responded with the name of a high-end Japanese restaurant downtown near the agency office.
“I’m hungry, though,” Kris says, as he takes off his seatbelt and follows Luhan out of the car.
“Me, too,” Luhan laughs. He lightly slaps Kris’s arm. “C’mon.”
The streetlamps are on and despite it being a weeknight, there’re a fair share of couples that pass them on the pathway that leads through the park. Luhan leads Kris deep enough into the park that Kris can no longer make out the parking lot through the thicket of trees and bicycle rental buildings. It’s probably less than ten minutes after they departed from the car that they reach a rather lonely, skimpy excuse for a gazebo-tiny enough that Kris would have to duck in order to fit into it. It stands right beside a street food stand.
Luhan gestures for Kris to sit down on the wooden edge. Kris stares doubtfully down at the dusty and dirt on the planks and wonders if it’s worth it to ask Luhan if he has a picnic mat in his car. “For Christ’s sakes,” Luhan yanks Kris down by the wrist, “just sit.”
Kris sits-and tips his face upward to glare at the other man.
“I’m going to get you food,” Luhan says, and Kris doesn’t understand why Luhan always has to sound so amused because nothing is even funny.
Food?
Where-
In an effort to stop Luhan, Kris shoots up without remembering that this gazebo is not built for the height of a non-average Asian male, and his head rams into the wooden ceiling (his arms flail, his body hits a pole, his legs tangle with the splintering edge of the platform). Luhan is startled midway to the shack and turns for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at Kris splattered like an egg-laughs-and continues on his way.
Kris feels like no matter how attractive Luhan is, Kris’s pants don’t deserve this kind of treatment. He makes sure Luhan is completely immersed in buying food before he brushes off as much mulch as he can from his pants and tries to telepathically convey how they just have to endure this for a few hours and then Kris will, rest assured, drive them to the open-all-night-emergency-dry-cleaning center across Zitao’s apartment complex.
His pants have somewhat been comforted by the time Luhan returns, hands holding deep-fried monstrosities on popsicle sticks and arms filled with ice-cold bottles dripping with condensation. “Why’re you staring at your legs?” Luhan asks quizzically as he puts the drinks down and sits beside Kris.
“I’m not,” Kris snaps.
Luhan doesn’t look convinced as the corners of his small, pink lips push his cheeks up. “I got you food,” he says and holds one of the battered and ketchup-ed demons out towards Kris.
Kris eyes it critically. “How much was that?” he asks, shrinking away from it.
Luhan blinks, already biting into his own. “Does it matter?” he says around a mouthful. “It’s good. It’s food.”
“Can you swallow before you talk?” Kris winces, backing up even further.
Luhan slides forward, mouth open with half-chewed food on full display, and purposefully sticks his tongue out (covered in half-chewed food), wiggling it at Kris.
Kris smacks him away and Luhan finally swallows, throwing his head back and laughing as Kris tries to forget what partially processed food going down a human’s esophagus looks like. He grabs the other corndog out of Luhan’s hand and glumly bites off a mouthful-glummer still as he chews because it fucking tastes good (but Kris is starving so anything tastes good because this doesn’t actually taste good).
“Good job,” Luhan says, and pats Kris on the back with enough force to nearly send the contents of Kris’s mouth onto the floor of the gazebo.
“For someone so hot,” Kris says once he swallows, “you’re really annoying.”
“Thanks,” the other man says, and flashes a peace sign. Luhan takes another bite of his own corndog and hands Kris one of the bottles of iced tea. “For someone so hot,” Luhan says thickly, mouth filled with hotdog and batter (Kris winces), “you’re really a douchebag about money.”
Kris screws the cap of the tea back on. “Thanks,” he says, and V-signs back.
Luhan laughs.
It’s barely ten when Luhan drops Kris back off at his apartment building. “Don’t be late again,” Luhan sings, hanging out of the car window and waving.
Kris rolls his eyes.
Luhan grins, winking before he raises the window and drives off.
Kris watches the car turn out of the complex and out onto the road. The night breeze whips his hair into his face. He pockets his left hand, holding the half-finished iced tea with his right. The actor wonders why Luhan hasn’t mentioned the note yet.
The rest script reading week goes by without Kris being caught in horrendous traffic, and with Luhan and Kris interchanging the days that one takes the other out to dinner-Luhan’s mopus operandi being the park, an empty playground, a quiet food stand, and Kris’s choice of dining being Seoul’s top ten priciest restaurants and eateries. They talk about their schedules, about future projects, about things with and without substance, but neither of them brings up their personal lives and neither of them brings up whether or not the competition has eased up.
On the day of the last script reading, Kris has to duck out of one last dinner at the park. “Sorry,” he says, once they’re the only two in the conference room again.
“Previous engagements?” Luhan raises his eyebrows with a half-smile.
“Sort of,” Kris tilts his head and returns the half-smile with one of his own. “If you like action movies, it’s not that much of a secret.”
Luhan stares for a moment before bursting into a short breath of laughter. “Ah,” he grins. “He’s your friend? No-wait,” Luhan sticks out his tongue and laughs again (crinkles at the corners of otherwise round eyes, and Kris’s heart blushes), “he’s-you-really?”
“I never knew Park Chanyeol sent off such straight vibes,” Kris snorts. “He’s with the other guy.”
Luhan’s mouth drops. Another peal of ringing, incredulous laughter falls from his lips. “Byun Baekhyun too?”
“No, wait I didn’t-him-”
“Yeah, no-I meant he’s gay too, then, right-”
“Last time I checked,” Kris says, “Chanyeol has a dick.”
“Mm,” Luhan has his arms folded now, lips pursed thoughtfully. “See-yeah-Byun Baekhyun I could see, but-wow-Park Chanyeol. He’s an action guy, though. Like-I’ve never seen him in a romance?”
Kris snorts again. “Stereotypes,” he says dismissively and Luhan smiles.
“That’s funny, though,” Luhan says with a sort of amused excitement that dumbfounds Kris because how is any of this funny? (It feels like Luhan always finds one thing or another funny-out of everything and anything) “Like-in this movie-the one premiering today, don’t they both have scenes with separate actresses?”
“It’s the same actress,” Kris says. “Because they’re fighting over her-”
“Oh-right-but then-”
“Yeah, in the end, Baekhyun has a scene with another actress though.”
Luhan grins. “Thanks for the spoiler.”
Kris blinks. “Oh-I-oh, sorry.”
“Have fun,” Luhan laughs, touching Kris’s arm lightly. “And don’t be late for filming on Monday,” he says with a grin. “Everyone was so proud of you dodging the terrible traffic.”
Kris looks down at Luhan for a moment, while the other man makes peace signs with both of his hands and places them level to his cheeks. “Fuck, you’re annoying,” Kris says.
Luhan flashes a toothy grin and waves Kris out the door.
Zitao is texting when Kris slides into the backseat of the model’s car. “You’re late,” the younger man says from the passenger seat, as his chauffeur rolls out of the parking space and heads for the parking garage’s exit. “You said you’d be out like ten minutes ago.”
“He wanted to talk a bit,” Kris says, putting on his seatbelt and leaning forward until his chin rests on the back edge of Zitao’s seat. “Sorry,” he says, briefly touching his lips to the younger man’s cheek.
“Oh-God-God,” Zitao flails, and laughs incredulously. “Ge-that’s disgusting.”
Kris grins and looks to the side, stretching out his arm-his hand meets plastic and metal and cloth and he asks, “You couldn’t have gotten one that matched my hair better?”
“Jongdae-ge sent it,” Zitao says, turning his head back to meet Kris’s eyes. “He said it was the one your stylist got-your endorsement campaign?”
“Christ, I’m not Suho,” Kris mumbles, wrinkling his nose at the suit. “I wanted to wear the new one I just bought but it’s not ready yet.”
“I thought you were saving that one for the award show, anyway.” Zitao taps the chauffeur’s shoulder and points to switch lanes.
Kris sniffs. “I can buy another suit,” he says indignantly.
“Ge-it’s fine,” Zitao grins exasperatedly. “You look hot in whatever you wear-the press’ll like it, and it’s a good brand to endorse for. I had them last season-they sell so much, it’s awesome.”
The actor sighs, running a hand down the suit hanging from the hook attached to the car ceiling. “They could’ve at least gotten a better shirt,” he says, frowning. “It’s fucking white-isn’t that boring? It’s white. I wanted apricot.”
“Shut up, ge,” Zitao laughs, and puts in earphones before Kris can retort. The actor kicks the back of the model’s seat.
Changing in the car, Kris thinks, would be a lot easier if Zitao’s chauffeur didn’t feel the need to challenge every Seoul bus driver to a death match.
By the time Kris and Zitao have finished the red carpet, the blinding cameras, and the crowd of microphones at the theater entrance, Junmyeon is already waiting for them in the second row-directly behind where Baekhyun and Chanyeol will sit with the film’s director for the premier screening. “Yixing couldn’t make it?” Junmyeon blinks, as Kris and Zitao slide into the row.
“Sick,” Zitao says, flapping his hand in front of his face. “I think stomach flu.”
“Jongdae and Minseok are making sure he’s alive until he stops puking,” Kris says, sitting down between Zitao and Junmyeon. “That’s why I haven’t had a manager for this entire week-been going alone to all my fucking schedules that Jongdae sends me through fucking text.”
“Is that why Minseok was late sending me my album files?” Junmyeon asks curiously. “Kyungsoo and I wanted to hear everything before he sends it in, but he hasn’t gotten back to me. We’re supposed to have lunch tomorrow though.”
“I mean,” a deep voice says and the three look up. “They could just be busy making-out.” Park Chanyeol’s wide eyes blink down at them from where he stands in the first row, grin flashing a mouthful of perfect, white teeth. “Hey-you guys aren’t late.”
“We almost were,” Zitao says, and pats Kris on the back, “Thanks to this hyung flirting with his new co-star.”
Chanyeol’s grin broadens, taking Kris’s hand and bumping shoulders with him. “Ay,” he says, and Kris’s own lips instantly turn up at the corners when he meets the younger man’s gaze. “Good job.”
(everything still stings a little, but it’s getting better)
Chanyeol turns just then, holding out his arm as Baekhyun walks up to join them, sliding into the first row turning in for a hug from Junmyeon. Baekhyun laughs at something the singer says before stepping back into Chanyeol, the taller man keeping an arm around Baekhyun’s shoulders. (he’s relieved when it barely hurts at all now-a tiny pang, but tiny enough to ignore-nothing compared to the throbbing aches when the wound was still freshly ripped)
“Hope you guys like it,” Baekhyun says, grinning.
“As long as your sex scene doesn’t disappoint,” Kris says just before the lights go down and Baekhyun laughs, slapping Kris’s shoulder.
The film is filled with action, romance, and comedy-a film about two assassins who wage war against each other when they fall in love with the same woman. Throughout the screening, Kris’s eyes can’t help but continuously notice Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s shadowed silhouettes leaning against each other, whispering and laughing under their breaths at different scenes-memories they must’ve shared during filming.
Kris smiles to himself-resigned and accepting (and sad, but what else can he do?).
He’s happy Chanyeol is happy.