Round 2: And I Don’t Care Who’s Watching
Title: And I Don’t Care Who’s Watching
Team: AU
Rating: PG
Fandom: Beast
Pairing: Junhyung/Yoseob
Summary: Junhyung’s an assistant director working on the set of a ballad group’s music video when the studio brings in a new art director.
Author's Note: thank you to my usual hand-holders and especially to my slavedriver/whip cracker for listening to me wail endlessly as i wrote (or didn’t write) this and helping me figure out my plot and how to use it! ilu all, you’re amazing ♥
Prompt Used: 2AM - You Wouldn’t Answer My Calls
“You’re late.”
Junhyung adjusts the strap of his messenger bag and continues in the direction of the office he shares with two of the other assistant directors, ignoring Doojoon. He pushes through the glass door, drops his bag in his chair, and slowly unzips his jacket. Doojoon stands in front of his desk, hands on his hips.
“What?” Junhyung unwinds his scarf and drops it on his desk. “We didn’t have a meeting this morning, and we haven’t started shooting yet.”
“We were meeting with the group this morning,” Doojoon says, fuming. “I know you’re not that invested in this project, but having my right hand man missing from the first meeting with the actors makes me look bad as a director.”
Junhyung drapes his coat over the back of his chair and moves his bag to the floor. “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry, my alarm didn’t ring, and I overslept.”
Doojoon’s expression softens, though Junhyung can see that he’s working hard to keep it stern. “Don’t do it again,” Doojoon says.
Junhyung waits for the accompanying finger wag.
“If it was anyone else, you’d have been fired a long time ago,” Doojoon says. He collapses into the chair on the other side of the desk, and Junhyung snorts.
“But I do good work.”
Doojoon quirks an eyebrow. “None of the PAs can even understand your mumbling.”
“I’m perfectly understandable,” Junhyung says. He pulls his laptop out of his bag and jabs the power button halfheartedly. “What do you need me to do today?”
Doojoon stands and pulls a notepad out of his back pocket. He flips through it, clears his throat theatrically, and looks at Junhyung significantly. “Make sure Dongwoon has the call sheets ready and look over them when you get the chance to make sure they’re right. We start shooting in five days. See how Hyunseung is doing with costumes, see how the lighting is coming with Kikwang, and I have the storyboard for the music video, so come see me later and we can come up with the shooting schedule depending on what Dongwoon’s call sheets say.”
Junhyung taps his pen on the edge of the laptop screen. “Have you ever found it ironic that Kikwang is in lighting when he isn’t that bright?”
“No,” Doojoon says dryly. “I do find it ironic that you don’t bring a pillow and blanket with you to work every day.”
“That’s not ironic, that’s me out of my habitat,” Junhyung says. He caps the pen and looks down at the notes he’s made. “It’s cruel.”
Doojoon snorts. “Go work.” He makes his way to the door, and then stops abruptly. “Oh, by the way. The new art director is coming in today, and I told him to look for you. Help him find the production designer.”
“Why me,” Junhyung grumbles, throwing the pen back into a drawer.
“You’re my right hand man,” Doojoon says, voice saccharine. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Junhyung waves him off. “Go do your own work. Harass a cameraman.”
“Drink some coffee,” Doojoon says warmly as he leaves. “You won’t be seeing a pillow for a while.”
The music video they’re making is for a popular ballad group that soulfully sings songs about lost love and regret, or lingering love and death. Junhyung likes the group when he finally meets them-they’re good, incredibly talented, and humble and easy to work with-but he hates their bit. He idly wonders why ballad groups can’t sing about baking and chocolate-covered pretzels.
The premise of the music video is tired and cliché. A guy receives a call from his girlfriend complaining good-naturedly that he’s late for their anniversary celebration. He rushes to apartment building, only to find her apartment door covered with yellow caution tape. The police escort him to the lobby and question him for a bit, and then leave him. He uses the lobby phone to call her up, she answers, and he desperately asks her if she’s okay, when she says she has to leave, because someone’s at the door. In a sudden moment of clarity, he realizes that the person at the door wants to kill the girlfriend. Cue some silent shots of the boyfriend crying heartbrokenly, an emotional shot of their innocent first kiss, and a fade to black on his tearstained, anguished face as he wails into the phone. There are hints throughout the video that suggest that the girlfriend died the day before the anniversary and that the calls are simply a result of the boyfriend’s guilt (or delusions).
Junhyung hates it.
“What the fuck,” he says, when Doojoon tells him all of this.
Doojoon shrugs. “I didn’t come up with it. The production teams wants it, and I’m making their dream a reality.” He studies the sheet of paper with the premise and pitch on it. “And you have to help me.”
Junhyung doesn’t buy into any of this. The holes in the plot are wide and deep enough to give an eighteen-wheeler a flat, and anguished sobbing into a phone isn’t going to undo your girlfriend’s murder and bring her back. Junhyung’s pretty sure it’s the most impractical way to handle the situation, especially if you spend all your time crying and none of it telling the police what you know about the murderer.
“Is him hysterically screaming into the phone supposed to show how much he loves her,” Junhyung says. “Can’t you love someone quietly?”
Doojoon grins. “The louder you are, the more you care.”
“I guess I don’t love anyone.”
“I’d drink to that,” Doojoon says somberly.
Junhyung hits him with an empty coffee mug.
“Someone’s in to see you,” a production assistant says, tapping Junhyung on the shoulder. Hyunseung pauses in the middle of his explanation of the detailing on the suit jacket the heartbroken boyfriend will be wearing and stares at the assistant patiently. She backs away.
“That’s unnerving,” Junhyung says.
Hyunseung puts the jacket back on its hanger. “I’ve been told that.”
“Who is it?” Junhyung turns to the assistant, who looks down at the clipboard in her arms. Junhyung isn’t sure, but he thinks her name is Minyoung.
“The new art director?” She fiddles with her pen. “He said the director told him to ask for you.”
Junhyung offers her a small smile. “Fine. Hyunseung, I’ll look at this later. Don’t add rhinestones to anything.”
“Funny,” Hyunseung says.
“I can take you out,” Minyoung says, hugging the clipboard to her chest. She blushes almost immediately. “I mean, to where he is. Not take you out, because that wouldn’t be…that wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“It would be fine,” Junhyung says, rubbing the bridge of his nose in slow, steady circles. “But taking me out to where he is would be more helpful.” He follows her out of the room and to the lobby.
“So,” Minyoung says, as they walk. “You wouldn’t mind if I took you out?” She looks at him shyly.
Junhyung shrugs. “Sure. Friday at eight?”
“Sounds perfect.” Minyoung beams. “I’ll text you my number. Oh, there he is.” She points to one of two guys sitting in the lobby. “See you on Friday,” she says, waving as she walks off.
Junhyung wonders briefly how she has his number, and then turns his attention to the guy, who is standing up, a huge portfolio case in one hand. Junhyung walks towards him, hands in his pockets.
“Yang Yoseob,” the guy says by way of introduction, bowing briefly. Junhyung looks him up and down, sizing him up. Yang Yoseob is slightly shorter than him, with good-natured eyes, an open, cheerful smile and hair dyed dirty blond. He’s wearing dark jeans, and a black blazer over a t-shirt with a graphic print in highlighter colors.
“Yong Junhyung,” Junhyung says.
Yoseob gives him a quick onceover, and then smiles again, this time more hesitant but just as bright. “Do I need to do a final interview, or do I have the job?”
“I’m supposed to take you to your desk,” Junhyung says. “Follow me.”
“Is Doojoon-ssi here?” Yoseob follows him down the hall. They pass Junhyung’s office and turn into an empty one two doors down.
“He’s meeting with the producer right now,” Junhyung says. “Here’s your desk. Two other people work in this office; they’re both set decorators, so it’ll be easier to work with them. You’ll be working under slash with me, so if you need help with anything, ask someone to get me. The break room’s down the hall; I’m two doors to the left, and the production designer’s two doors to the right. His name is Key. Kibum,” Junhyung clarifies, when Yoseob raises his eyebrows. “He just likes dumb nicknames.”
“Noted,” Yoseob says. “What’re you?”
“Assistant director,” Junhyung says. “And I left Hyunseung in the costume department without constructive criticism so I should go back before he starts sewing flowers to the blazers. I’ll see you at the meeting later today.”
“Wait,” Yoseob says. “Can I get a schedule or something?”
“Ask Dongwoon,” Junhyung says as he backs out of the room. “Son Dongwoon, extension 0590. Tell him you’re new, he’ll get you everything you need.” He turns on his heel and rushes out.
“Thanks,” Yoseob calls after him. Junhyung waves over his shoulder.
Junhyung is horrible about meeting new people. He’d been good about it maybe once, when he met Doojoon in fifth grade, but everything after that is hilariously awkward. Girls are drawn to him because they think his standoffishness is really him being cool and nonchalant, much to Doojoon’s amusement. He needs a week to get used to this new person’s presence, and another week to observe them and figure out whether he wants to befriend them or not. The observation period is that creeps out most people, and what Doojoon has tried to talk him out of, but Junhyung likes when people aren’t unsettled by him. They’re the friends that are worthwhile.
Yoseob turns out to be a good worker, and a good co-worker. Doojoon falls in love with his work ethic almost immediately, fawning over Yoseob’s design schemes and sketches, and the way that he interacts with the set designers.
“He manages people so well,” Doojoon says over lunch, stealing a piece of meat out from under Junhyung’s descending chopsticks. “The designers love him, Key loves him, and he’s using his lunch break to get a head start on shopping for supplies.”
“Don’t the designers do the grunt work,” Junhyung says. He grabs two pieces of meat to spite Doojoon.
Doojoon beams. “This is why he’s so great. I told him to come eat with us, and he just said that he wanted to get this out of the way so Sooyoung could start putting stuff together on set tomorrow.”
“You sound like you’re in love,” Junhyung says, pushing his rice bowl away. He fiddles with his glass of water.
“You’d love him too, if you actually talked to him. Instead of staring at him like a creep. He hasn’t said anything about it to me, yet,” Doojoon says thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s one of the worthwhile ones.”
“We’ll see,” Junhyung says darkly. “My method is foolproof.”
“Your staring is unsettling,” Yoseob informs him the next day. It’s the first day of shooting, and Junhyung is running on maybe five hours of sleep because of a production meeting that went late the night before, and because Minyoung had called him “just to talk.”
“Shouldn’t you be supervising,” Junhyung says, staring down at his clipboard. He blinks blearily at the checklist. “Did I call roll already?”
“In the dressing room,” Yoseob says. “But can you stop? Talk to me if you want, don’t talk to me if you don’t want, but staring at me takes me out of my zone and then we get an apartment building lobby that looks like this.” He gestures to the set.
“It looks fine,” Junhyung says. It looks like a fairly standard apartment building lobby: black square pillars, black leather chairs, postmodern looking tables, and a phone. The singer fits in perfectly with his black suit and meticulously styled hair. “It looks like a lobby.”
“It doesn’t pop,” Yoseob says mournfully. “Because you were staring at me.”
“Don’t blame me for your shitty job,” Junhyung says tersely. “Where the fuck is Hyunseung; he said he was getting the watch fifteen minutes ago.”
“Hey,” Yoseob says. Junhyung glances at him, and is surprised to see that Yoseob looks slightly hurt. It’s like looking at a kicked puppy. “I was just kidding,” Yoseob says. “It isn’t my best work, but it is just the lobby. Wait till you see the apartment set.”
Junhyung bites his lip. “Sorry. And I’ve seen the sketches.”
Yoseob brightens. “But you haven’t seen the set. It’s completely different off the page.”
“I know,” Junhyung says, trying not to grit his teeth. He pulls his walkie-talkie off his belt and radios Hyunseung. “I hope you aren’t adding sequins to something.”
There’s silence, and then, “Fuck off; I’m pressing a pair of pants. I’ll be there soon.”
“You work so well with other people,” Yoseob says dryly.
“Hyunseung and I have an understanding. And I’ll stop staring at you if you stop bothering me right now,” Junhyung says.
Yoseob scrutinizes him, lips pursed. “Let’s get lunch some time.”
“You don’t even work with me directly,” Junhyung says, checking something else off his list. “It’s not like we need to get along. Is Jonghyun here? We need a cameraman.” He pauses to collect his thoughts. “To shoot a video.”
“He was here when you called roll,” Yoseob says, patting Junhyung’s arm patiently. “And of course we’ll have to work together. You’re responsible for directing the set. I…am the set.”
“You’re not,” Junhyung snaps. “Can you get me coffee?”
“Get one of your peons to do it,” Yoseob says.
Junhyung rubs his face. “Will you get me coffee if I have lunch with you?”
Yoseob looks up, tapping his chin. “Well,” he says thoughtfully. “Yeah. I guess that’d do it.”
“Done,” Junhyung says. He hears the desperation creeping in on the edges of his voice. “Black. A lot of it.”
“’Kay. Let me know when you need me for something. Not coffee,” Yoseob says quickly. “This is a onetime deal.”
“Black,” Junhyung repeats. “Lots of it.”
“I feel like I know the way to your heart now,” Yoseob says. “Do you like pillows too?” Junhyung stares at him, and Yoseob grins. “I’ll ask Doojoon.”
“Since when are you close with Doojoon?”
“Since I wowed him with my incredible work ethic and amazing set conceptions,” Yoseob says. “But you want that coffee, right? Stop talking to me.” He backs away, still grinning. “And remember to stop staring at me.”
Junhyung wonders if he should just ask someone else to get him coffee.
Because of his standoffishness and strict adherence to the one-week observance period, Junhyung isn’t used to people actively pursuing a friendship with him. There are the girls who want to date him (and the guys that want to date him, though they are much less forthcoming), and then there is Doojoon (but he was five then, and that doesn’t exactly count), and Kikwang (who can wiggle his way into anyone’s heart), and Hyunseung (Junhyung thinks they connected over a similar inability to really let people in), and Dongwoon (whose earnestness, maturity, and willingness to get Junhyung coffee are his selling points).
Junhyung knows a lot of people, but he knows them superficially, and he’s used to this, and maybe even prefers it. It makes casual dating easier, and less significant people in his life always means less fuss and less bother.
“Minyoung’s crying in the break room,” Yoseob says when he pokes his head into Junhyung’s office. Jinki, one of the other assistant directors in that office, looks at Junhyung reprovingly, and Junhyung makes a face.
“I told her I didn’t want anything serious,” Junhyung says. He lifts his arms over his head, stretching and cracking his knuckles. “We only went out twice.”
“She’s saying you had a deep connection,” Yoseob says, the corner of his lips quirking up in an amused half-smile. “Do you normally get to that point on the second date?”
Junhyung looks at him. “Is there a reason you’re here?”
“You said we’d get lunch,” Yoseob says. “I’m holding you to it.”
“Can we do this after we wrap up production,” Junhyung says with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Go with Jinki. You guys would get along.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jinki swivels around in his chair and glares at Junhyung. It’s completely ineffective, and he seems to realize that, because it melts into an easy smile as he turns to Yoseob. “Hi.”#
“Hey,” Yoseob says. He smiles, then turns his attention back to Junhyung, much to Junhyung’s chagrin. “If you don’t come I’m telling Minyoung that you were talking about taking her out on a special dinner date tonight. And that I saw you ring shopping last night.”
“We only went out twice,” Junhyung says slowly. “And I was here until two in the morning; when did I have time to go ring shopping. She was here till two in the morning.”
Yoseob crosses his arms. “This is a girl who thinks she made a deep connection with you after two dinners. She’ll believe me.”
Junhyung groans. “Fine.” He stands up and reaches for his coat. “I was planning on taking a nap at my desk, you know,” he says, as he does up the buttons, and begins winding his scarf around his neck. “I’m not even hungry.” He roots around in the pockets of the coat for his gloves, and then pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and drops it on the desk emphatically. “You’re paying.”
“For the pleasure of your company?” Yoseob skips to the door. “I would be delighted. But I get to choose where.”
Junhyung grumbles. “Whatever.”
Yoseob chooses a standard Korean restaurant two blocks from the studio, and hollers to the ahjumma behind the counter for two orders of sundubu jjigae.#
“I might have wanted to choose my own food,” Junhyung says, tugging his scarf off. It’s deathly cold inside, but the heat inside the restaurant is fogging up the windows, and Junhyung feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. He massages his frozen fingers, and Yoseob gives him that amused half-smile again.
“They have the best sundubu jjigae,” Yoseob says. He puffs his cheeks up and blows his fringe out of his face, and begins unbuttoning his coat. “It’s really the only thing worth getting here.”
Junhyung reluctantly tugs his gloves off as the ahjumma approaches with a tray. She sets down giant stone bowls of bubbling stew in front of them, two bowls piled high with rice, and a spread of side dishes. “Tell me if you need anything else, Yoseobie,” she says, pinching his cheek fondly. Yoseob beams up at her and nods.
“I come here all the time,” Yoseob says when Junhyung looks at him questioningly. “She’s like an aunt.” He picks up his spoon and stirs his jjigae. “Eat! You look like you’re going to pass out.”
“Because I’m missing out on a nap at my desk,” Junhyung says unhappily, though it’s hard to stay grumpy when the food smells so good. He eats some rice, and almost immediately feels more awake.
They eat in relative silence for a few minutes. Yoseob eats his food peculiarly: he eats enough of his stew to make room in the bowl, and then dumps all his rice in and mixes it in. Junhyung silently dips a spoonful of rice into his broth to see how it tastes. It’s better than he thought it would be. Should he dump all his rice in?
“So do you hate your job?” Yoseob breaks Junhyung’s concentration on the rice-stew dilemma. “You just never look happy there,” he adds hastily, when Junhyung looks up at him, confused.
“We’ve worked together for three days,” Junhyung says. He compromises and adds half his rice. “How can you tell how I feel about my job?”
“You never look like you want to be there, for one.” Yoseob’s halfway through his food already. His hands are on the large side, Junhyung notices, as he looks at Yoseob’s grip on his spoon. His fingers are long and slender, with short, clean nails, strange for someone who’s been working with red paint for the past day. “And you’re always grumpy,” Yoseob says, looking at Junhyung curiously. “What’re you looking at?”
“Nothing,” Junhyung says quickly. “I don’t like waking up early,” he says. It’s a superficial explanation.
Yoseob raises his eyebrows. “That’s it?”
Junhyung relents. “I hate the subject matter I work with. All this shit about love and lost love and regret and being torn apart from the love of your life. It’s stereotypical and cliché and doesn’t have anything to do with real love. Like, take this video we’re working on. Why does he spend all that time screaming into the phone? Who’s he screaming to? Is screaming really going to bring her back from the dead? Why doesn’t he just look at the calendar in the first place and realize that she died the day before?”
Yoseob’s lips curve into a trembling smile, and for a moment Junhyung panics about potentially offending someone that he has to work with for at least another month, but then Yoseob bursts into loud, raucous laughter. He smacks his hand on the table a couple of times, turns sideways and curls over in the chair, and his shoulders shake and heave. Junhyung blinks, taken aback.
“What?”
Yoseob’s laughter slowly subsides into giggles, but he stays bent over, still shaking.
“It’s not that funny,” Junhyung says, irritated. This is why he doesn’t talk to anyone but Doojoon (who’s dating the producer and has a very stable, balanced relationship free of screaming into phones and hysterical crying) about this.
“I can’t believe you get so worked up about it,” Yoseob says, unfolding and turning to face Junhyung again. He wipes his eyes, fingers trembling. Junhyung stares at them before realizing what he’s doing, and quickly looks away.
“It’s not like you’re supposed to believe it,” Yoseob continues, oblivious. He breathes deeply, and coughs to cover up another laugh. “Suspension of disbelief, and all that. You’ve been in relationships before, right? It’s never like that. I hope.”
“Never a serious relationship,” Junhyung says.
“How old are you?” Yoseob ducks his head. “Not that you’re supposed to have been in a serious relationship by a certain age, it’s just more common.”
“Twenty-three,” Junhyung says. “You?”
“Twenty-three, too. Nothing in college?”
“No.” Junhyung puts his spoon down. “Why am I telling you this?”
“Because your gut instinct tells you to trust me,” Yoseob says matter-of-factly. He pauses. “If you trust anyone at all.”
“We’ve known each other for five days,” Junhyung says. He finishes the last of his stew, and pokes at a piece of kimchi. “Quit it with the psychobabble.”
Yoseob throws his napkin into his empty bowl. “Fine. So you don’t believe in love?”
“I believe in love,” Junhyung says slowly. He thinks for a moment. “Just not that sort of love. I love my parents. But I’ve never been…in love.”
He isn’t lying when he says this. He might be lying about never having been in a serious relationship; there was Hyun in the last year of university, but he’d been a year younger than Junhyung, and had found someone else after Junhyung graduated. Junhyung had expected it-he never told Hyun he loved him or asked him to wait. He graduated, kissed Hyun at all the graduation parties (though never in front of the cameras), and went off to go job hunting. They talked every day for the first two months, then twice a week, then once a week, and finally, Hyun had called him and told him he was seeing someone else. Junhyung wasn’t heartbroken.
“What about you?” Junhyung digs around in his pockets before remembering that he left his wallet at work.
Yoseob pulls his wallet out, laughing presumably at Junhyung’s absentmindedness. “I’ve got this. And to answer your question: no. But I believe in it.” He goes up to the counter to pay, and Junhyung busies himself with putting his coat back on.
“I don’t buy into this music video bullshit, though,” Yoseob says, as they make their way back to the studio. His hands are jammed into his pockets because he doesn’t have gloves, and his ears are bright red from the icy wind. Junhyung reaches over and pulls Yoseob’s hood over his head for him. “It’s obviously stupid,” Yoseob continues, shooting Junhyung a grateful smile. “But don’t you think it’s nice, in a way?”
“How?” Junhyung curls his toes in his boots as they wait at a crosswalk.
“That idea that someone loves you enough to run around the city for you,” Yoseob says, staring blankly at the stoplight. “And scream and fight and cry hysterically when they realize you’re gone. Like, the idea that someone you aren’t related to would miss you that much, and keep loving you even after you’ve died, and not be ashamed to show it.”
Junhyung snorts. “Cheesy. Is that what you call a serious relationship?”
Yoseob shoots him a look, and then gives him a small smile. “I guess I’m a cheesy, hopeless romantic.”
Junhyung wraps an arm around Yoseob’s shoulders. He doesn’t expect himself to do this, and Yoseob clearly doesn’t either, because he stiffens, but eventually relaxes into Junhyung. “It’s fine,” Junhyung says. “You need to believe in something, right?”
The light changes, and they cross the street.
“How’s the set coming?” Doojoon says, when he catches Junhyung in the hall. They’re shooting all of the apartment scenes that day, because it’s the only free day the actress has. Both Junhyung and Doojoon have been at the studio since five that morning, and have been so busy that Junhyung hasn’t even had time to complain about being sleepy.
“The actress is in makeup,” Junhyung says mechanically.
“I know, I was just there.” Sleepiness makes Doojoon even more patient, which is something Junhyung’s never understood. “But the set. What does the apartment look like?”
Junhyung thinks. “It’s…white.”
“Like, bare, or symbolic of her purity?”
“It’s the color white,” Junhyung says, rubbing his head. “I’ll go check on Yoseob.”
“Make sure Kikwang has lighting done too,” Doojoon yells after him.
“I’m delegating to Dongwoon.”
“Just make sure someone does it.”
“Your wish is my command, boss.” Junhyung rounds the corner, and almost runs into Kikwang, who offers him a cup of coffee with a smile that’s way too wide for 7:30.
“The lighting’s done,” Kikwang says quickly, before Junhyung can even open his mouth. “I’ll have to adjust it when Jonghyun starts shooting to get the actress’ complexion right but I’m pretty much done, and my technicians are helping other people out. Do you need help with anything?”
Junhyung looks down at his clipboard, then takes his checklist off it, rips it in half, and offers the top half to Kikwang. “Can you do all of this.”
Kikwang takes it and studies it. “Yeah, no problem.”
“I love you,” Junhyung says weakly. “See you at nine.”
The set looks like it’s almost ready when Junhyung gets there. Yoseob’s standing on the bed in his socks, tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrates on getting a cosmetic light fixture straight.
“How does it look?” he says, when he notices Junhyung standing there.
Junhyung jumps. “Good. White.”
“The producer was saying something about symbolizing the purity of her heart and love,” Yoseob says, stepping down to the floor. He toes his shoes back on. “Do you like the chairs?”
The set as a whole looks sterile and sleek; the bed is perfectly made, except for where Yoseob had been standing, an empty photo frame and a white lamp sit on the white nightstand, and the sheer curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling “window” are white as well. Pink and white balloons and red heart-shaped streamers hang from the ceiling, and two bright blue party hats and a fake cake frosted in red and white sit on a white table, between two white chairs.
“Kikwang said the lighting was going to wash a lot of this out,” Yoseob says. He crosses his arms, biting his lower lip, and Junhyung notices that his sleeves are rolled up, and that he has strong yet slim forearms. “I hate that effect,” Yoseob says, lowering his voice. “Puts all of my good work to waste. What’s the point of having all these details if they’re all going to blend in together?”
“At least it looks nice,” Junhyung says. He takes a sip of his coffee, and offers it to Yoseob. Yoseob takes it, looking grateful.
“What’s the actress wearing?”
“This beige dress.” Junhyung gestures vaguely around his shoulders. “Lacy. Flowy.”
“Boring,” Yoseob says flatly.
“Right. Hyunseung wasn’t happy,” Junhyung says with a laugh.
Yoseob hands Junhyung the coffee. “No sequins?”
“He’s not that into sequins,” Junhyung says, though he giggles despite himself. “He just kind of went overboard for this one girl group’s video, and Doojoon’s been paranoid ever since. And I like making fun of him for it.”
“Must suck to have to work with you,” Yoseob says, taking the coffee back before Junhyung can take a sip.
“You work under me,” Junhyung says, making a face. “I could make life difficult for you.”
“Oh, no,” Yoseob says, deadpan. “I might have to quit my job.”
“Guys.” Jonghyun comes up behind them. “Can you stop flirting? Key’s freaking out about not being able to find the stupid calendar and he says he needs you.”
“It’s by the-never mind.” Yoseob rolls his eyes. “I’ll go help him.” He stalks off.
“We weren’t flirting,” Junhyung says, pointing his pen at Jonghyun.
Jonghyun shrugs. “Whatever.”
“Help me with this,” Yoseob says during their break. Junhyung’s sitting on one of the chairs on the set, eating from a bowl of jajangmyun, while Yoseob stands on the bed, trying to decide what sort of destruction looks more convincing as a murder scene.
“Should the lamp fall to the left or the right? And should the streamers come down?”
Junhyung wipes the sauce from his lips, and looks around the set critically. “Is she going to grab the streamers for help while he’s killing her?”
“Well.” Yoseob purses his lips and combs his fingers through his fringe. “No. But the more destruction there is, the more violent the murder seems, right?”
“We didn’t order any fake blood for this,” Junhyung says. “Wouldn’t that do the most for making the murder seem violent? And, I don’t know, real?”
“Too gritty,” Yoseob says. “Real love isn’t gritty. It’s like bunnies and unicorns and sparkles. Maybe Hyunseung should put some glitter on her dress.”
“Shut up.”
“The wineglasses are going to be tipped over like this, see?” Yoseob leaps off the bed and walks over to the table to demonstrate. Junhyung chews as Yoseob lays the glasses on their side, fingers wrapped delicately around their stems. Junhyung tries not to stare. “And the wine will be flowing out of it,” Yoseob says. “And it will be red. Like blood. It’s a romantic euphemism.”
“Okay,” Junhyung says, looking down at his food. “Whatever you say.”
“Indeed,” Yoseob says, looking pleased. “Whatever I say.”
“How’re things going with Yoseob?”
Junhyung looks up briefly from the report Dongwoon just handed him, and then back down at it. “I’m working.”
“I told you you’d like him,” Doojoon says, sitting down like Junhyung hasn’t said anything. “And now you, what, eat lunch together every day and hang out between takes? Someone in makeup was saying you’ve become downright pleasant in the mornings.”
“I said hi to her,” Junhyung says, rubbing his eyes. “It’s common courtesy.”
Doojoon opens his mouth in the facsimile of a gasp. “I didn’t know you knew what that was.”
Junhyung closes his laptop and looks at Doojoon pointedly. “I’m trying to work. You know, that thing? That you’re not doing right now? Even though we still have a day left on the group’s solo shots?”
“I already checked up on people so you don’t have to,” Doojoon says, waving him off. Junhyung bats his hand away. “Let’s get lunch,” Doojoon says. “You already closed your laptop.”
“I’m going with Yoseob,” Junhyung says.
Doojoon’s eyes widen gleefully, and he opens his mouth, but then the door opens and Yoseob pokes his head in. “Ready to go? Oh, hi, Doojoon. Wanna come with for lunch?”
Doojoon beams. “I love it when my crew gets along so well,” he says, giving Junhyung a significant look. “Our Junhyung isn’t the best at making new friends, and it’s nice to see him open up like this.”
Junhyung resists the urge to stab his cheeks with a pen. “I’m fine at making friends.”
Yoseob looks at Junhyung, then Doojoon. “We could cancel lunch and do dinner if you want? If this is a bad time.”
“It’s fine,” Junhyung says shortly. He stands up and pulls his coat on. “Let’s go.” He’s a bit disappointed when Doojoon goes to get his jacket, but he tells himself it’s nothing as they leave.
“If you had to be any animal ever, what would you be?” Yoseob sips his drink, and swings his legs out before hooking them behind legs of the chair.
“Are we in high school or something?” Junhyung stares into the depth of his shot of soju. “Any animal?”
“Ever.” Yoseob knocks back his shot, and pokes at the meat grilling on the table between them. “Extinct ones are fair game, too.”
“Koala,” Junhyung says, pouring Yoseob more soju. “They sleep eighteen hours a day and spend the rest of their time eating.”
Yoseob stares at him. “Are you serious?”
“Dead,” Junhyung says. He flips some of the meat, and puts a couple of cooked pieces on Yoseob’s plate. “You?”
“Spider monkey,” Yoseob says, without hesitation. He takes another shot, and gestures for Junhyung to fill his glass for him.
“You answered that really fast,” Junhyung says, raising an eyebrow. He takes his own shot, and Yoseob pours for him. His hands are shaky, and some of it spills over onto the table.
“Have you seen their tails? Coolest monkey ever, and they’re supposed to be one of the smartest. And I’m pretty smart,” Yoseob says proudly. He eats some meat. “Plus they’re quick like foxes. Except they’re not foxes, you know?”
“Okay,” Junhyung mutters. “Also, you’re drunk.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Yoseob chirps. “Pour me another one.” He squints at Junhyung. “How drunk are you?’
“Not at all,” Junhyung says. “Keep drinking.”
“Good thinking,” Yoseob says approvingly. “Keep them coming, bartender.”
“You’re even more obnoxious when you’re drunk,” Junhyung says, reaching for Yoseob’s glass.
“At last I’m not a bonobo,” Yoseob says thoughtfully. “They do penis fencing.”
Junhyung pauses in the middle of pouring. “Lovely.”
Yoseob smiles blissfully. “It’s awesome. You’d like them, though. They don’t like intimate relationships with family. No strings attached. That sort of stuff.”
“Hey, I like relationships,” Junhyung says. It stings a little, even if Yoseob is drunk. “I just haven’t found anyone good yet.”
Yoseob looks at him in a way that’s surprisingly sober. “You’ll find her someday. Or him. If you’re into that.”
“Yeah,” Junhyung says. “Sure.”
He wakes up the next morning in an unfamiliar living room, on an unfamiliar couch. He turns over to find his watch and wallet, neither of which he can feel on his person, and yelps when he is instead met with Yoseob, staring at him in a rather zombie-like fashion.
“How’d you bring me back here?” Yoseob asks, standing up. He moves Junhyung’s legs and plunks down on the couch. Junhyung drapes his legs over his lap and covers his eyes with his forearm.
“You told me your address. Sang it, actually, since you wanted to go to noraebang.”
“Sorry,” Yoseob says. Junhyung lifts his forearm to see Yoseob running his fingers through his hair, smile sheepish. “I…like singing.”
“So I found out last night,” Junhyung says. “It’s fine, it’s not like this happens all the time.”
“Did I say anything weird?” Yoseob asks. “Drunkenness is always funny in retrospect. Or at least, I think so.”
“You babbled about spider monkeys,” Junhyung says, smiling despite himself. “And bonobos. And you wanted to call your ex, but I took your phone away before you did anything stupid.”
Yoseob laughs, but it’s void of humor. “Thanks.”
“Should I have not?” Junhyung sits up slowly.
“No, it’s fine,” Yoseob says. “He was a jerk anyway.”
He. Junhyung raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything. Yoseob stares down at his lap and twists his fingers together.
“Well, good,” Junhyung says loudly. “That I stopped you, I mean. Drunk fights are the worst.”
Yoseob snorts. “Would you know? With your lack of serious relationships?”
“I guess not.” Junhyung sets his feet on the floor and stretches lazily. He feels a bit uneasy for not telling Yoseob about Hyun, but he’s not sure why. “It’s a good thing we didn’t have filming today.”
“Yeah.” Yoseob shifts around, drumming his fingers against the arm of the couch.
“You have a nice place,” Junhyung says.
Yoseob blinks. “Thanks. Hey, I think I’m going to go back to sleep. I’m tired and dehydrated.”
“Okay.” Junhyung gets up, and stands in front of Yoseob awkwardly. “Feel better.”
“Thanks,” Yoseob says. He’s looking at his lap, at the couch, at the coffee table; anywhere but Junhyung.
“I’ll just see myself out, then.” Junhyung grabs his phone and keys and wallet-his watch is in his coat pocket-and walks to the door. “Drink some water,” he says, as he puts his shoes on.
“Will do. See you at work.”
“Bye,” Junhyung says. Yoseob doesn’t say anything, and he closes the door behind himself on the way out.
Yoseob is oddly quiet at work the next day. Junhyung doesn’t remember the last time he had to work so hard to get someone to talk with him, and starts to wonder if he’s done something wrong, crossed some invisible line between them in the way that he took care of Yoseob Saturday night.
“Doesn’t sound like you did anything wrong,” Doojoon says, furrowing his eyebrows when Junhyung tells him. Junhyung leaves out the part about Yoseob’s ex being an ex-boyfriend. Dongwoon nods, making an unintelligible noise as he sips his soda.
“He’s not talking to me,” Junhyung says. He taps his pen against his desk. “What would you have done in the situation?”
“The same thing. Maybe he’s preoccupied about something else,” Doojoon says. “Give him space.”
Junhyung has always given people space. He gave Hyun space, and he left after five months.
“You’re fine,” Doojoon says, breaking Junhyung’s train of thought. “It isn’t your fault. Talk to him at the end of today if you’re really that worried-”
“I am.”
“-But it isn’t your fault,” Doojoon continues, maddeningly calm.
Junhyung feels like it had been his fault with Hyun, but he fails to see why that has anything to do with this. Hyun and Yoseob are (clearly) two different people, two very, very different people, and the only real similarity between them is that Junhyung cares (or cared, in Hyun’s case, though this recent hang-up with him might be indicative of something, he’s just not sure what) for them.
Doojoon snaps his fingers in front of Junhyung’s eyes, and Junhyung flinches. “Get out of it,” Doojoon says. “Do your work. Talk to him later. The film’s going to post-production tomorrow, so you’ll have time after today.”
“Fine,” Junhyung says.
“It’s weird,” Doojoon says, after a few moments of silence. “You’ve never cared so much about losing a friend.”
“I have,” Junhyung says. “Really,” he insists, when Doojoon raises his eyebrows. “I mean, just because none of us have ever fought, doesn’t mean I don’t care about the relationships I have with other people.”
“Sure,” Dongwoon says. “But you’ve never agonized this much about anyone.”
Hyun, Junhyung thinks. He shakes his head. That’s different.
“And you definitely never let yourself be manhandled by anyone but me,” Doojoon says cheerfully. “Or share your coffee with anyone but me.”
“That was a onetime thing,” Junhyung says sourly. “Why do you keep bringing it up.”
“Our point,” Dongwoon says in a tone that is much kinder than Doojoon’s, “is that Yoseob is different for you. Why?”
“The people who stick it out after the period of observation are worthwhile,” Junhyung says stubbornly. “It’s well-documented. Except maybe with you,” he says to Doojoon, who grins and tips his chair on its back legs.
“You didn’t even have a week-long observation period with Yoseob,” he says. “Yoseob just wiggled his way into your heart. Like me.”
“My heart was less guarded when I was five,” Junhyung says. “There’s a reason it’s so hard to get into now.”
“You say it like your heart is Harvard,” Dongwoon says with a laugh.
“My heart is like Harvard,” Junhyung says, and Doojoon falls out of his chair, laughing. The following commotion completely derails their conversation, but leaves Junhyung thinking.
Yoseob continues to ignore him for the next week, and Junhyung walks around work doing a lot of frowning. The film has gone to post-production, so Junhyung doesn’t even have the opportunity to run into Yoseob on the set, or an excuse to talk about what shade of off-white to use on a dresser that probably won’t be in the shot. When he walks past Yoseob’s office, Yoseob is hard at work on his computer, and the one time he looked up from his work to see Junhyung staring at him, he frowned and looked away. Nothing else.
“Try talking to him,” Doojoon says helpfully. “You’re not supposed to be this stressed during post-production. And I think you’re scaring some of the interns.”
“They should know what they’re getting into,” Junhyung says. He shoves a stack of paperwork to Doojoon to sign.
Doojoon sighs. “Did you try calling him? Or texting him?”
“He wouldn’t answer my calls,” Junhyung says plaintively. “Or my texts. How am I supposed to make up with someone who won’t talk to me?”
“Corner him in the break room when no one else is there?” Doojoon shuffles through the stack of papers, signing and initialing mechanically. He looks up, and Junhyung makes a face at him. He sighs again. “Are you just not going to bother fixing things? How’s that worked the other times you tried it?”
It didn’t, but Junhyung doesn’t think that’s the point.
“You’re avoiding me,” Junhyung says, when Yoseob walks into the break room. Yoseob pauses, stares at him passively, and then walks wordlessly to the coffee machine.
“I didn’t plan this,” Junhyung says. He walks to where Yoseob is, and Yoseob looks up at him before moving farther down the table to where the creamer and sugar packets are. “But you should tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”
Yoseob snorts. “The last thing I want to do is talk about it again.”
“Again?”
Yoseob’s grip on his coffee mug tightens, and coffee sloshes out onto the table, soaking into the empty sugar packets. “What I told you is kind of a big deal for me. Actually, I didn’t really tell you, it just kind of slipped out, and that was clearly a mistake, because you don’t even remember now, and-”
“What,” Junhyung says, running his fingers through his hair in irritation, “about our last conversation involved any soul-bearing on your part? You told me you wanted to be a spider monkey, I learned that you sing really well, and then you got all pissy when I took your phone so you wouldn’t drunk dial people. What, out of all of that, did I do wrong?”
Yoseob scoffs and looks away. “Forget it.”
The conversation is eerily similar to a conversation Junhyung had with Hyun, a couple of months after graduation. Junhyung had called him, Hyun had been short and terse with him for the entire conversation, and he’d had no idea as to what he’d done wrong. Hyun never told him, and so they cut back on phone calls, instead of working it out. Junhyung doesn’t want it to end this way this time.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he says plainly. “As a friend. Or whatever we are.”
“If you don’t even know what we are then what’s the point of trying to fix this.” Yoseob takes a sip of his coffee. “We’ve known each other for a month. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Yoseob.”
“Junhyung-ssi,” Yoseob says. He looks Junhyung in the eye, and then walks past him to the door. “Seriously, just drop it.”
For all of his grumpiness, Junhyung isn’t used to people getting mad and staying mad at him. There was that time that he and Doojoon were crushing on the same girl in seventh grade, and Junhyung kissed her on the cheek first. Doojoon had been furious, but then the girl agreed to go to the school dance with him instead of Junhyung, and that fixed everything. It was also when Junhyung and Doojoon made a bros before hos pact, because not sitting next to each other at lunch for those two days had sucked. Hyunseung had gotten mad at him after the girl group glitter incident, but that ended quickly, too, after Hyunseung saw how his creations looked on camera. And there are his weekly arguments with his mom, but those are always about whether he’s eating enough and does he really want to get that third tattoo? If he really wants to buy something, can’t he just get a dog?
Junhyung just doesn’t know how to respond when people are angry with him. He doesn’t have a problem with apologizing as long as he knows what he’s apologizing for, and he’s generally pretty willing to take the fall for something, even if it isn’t necessarily his fault. But this problem that Yoseob has with him seems to have come out of nowhere. Junhyung is honestly at a loss, and he hates generic apologies.
“I’m sorry.”
Yoseob looks up from the vase that he’s painting. The set designer he’s working with looks at Junhyung uncertainly, and slowly leaves.
“For what?”
“For whatever I did?” Junhyung sits down across from Yoseob, and watches as Yoseob moves the brush over vase, covering the off-white with a harsher, stark white. His grip on the brush tightens when Junhyung speaks, and Junhyung stares with fascination at the way his fingers tighten over the handle. “I’m not really sure,” Junhyung says. “But you’ve been avoiding me for more than a week now, and I know that maybe ambushing you in the break room wasn’t the best thing to do but-”
“Don’t you think we’ve been spending too much time together?” Yoseob drops the brush, and it lands with a clatter. White paint flecks Junhyung’s blazer. “Sorry,” Yoseob says, but it’s throwaway.
Junhyung looks up at him, but Yoseob stares determinedly at the vase. “I thought we were getting to know each other,” Junhyung says cautiously. “Since we only met a month ago. And we’re becoming friends. Are friends. I don’t know.”
“Which is weird, because you weren’t even remotely interested in getting to know me for a while there,” Yoseob says. He stares at his palms, then wipes them on the front of his shirt, quickly and firmly. The v-neck strains lower, and Junhyung catches a glimpse of his collarbone.
“Which was stupid,” Junhyung says. “Doojoon told you I’m shitty at making friends.”
“Sure,” Yoseob says.
“Why’re you mad? You should at least tell me, so I can fix this.”
Yoseob pushes his fingers through his hair, his movements restrained and still powerful. The cords in his forearms shift and tense, and Junhyung finds him fascinated with their movements. “You sound like you’ve said that before,” Yoseob says.
“I was in a serious relationship once,” Junhyung says, though he has no idea why he’s saying this. A last-ditch attempt to get Yoseob to really pay attention to him, he supposes. It seems to work, because Yoseob actually looks him in the eye.
“In my last year of college,” Junhyung continues. “We broke up a couple of months after I graduated. I never said I love you, or anything, and we wouldn’t scream and fight and cry hysterically for each other. We were at the point that I could have, I think, but I never did.”
Yoseob snorts. “Because you’re emotionally stunted?”
“You’re just as emotionally stunted,” Junhyung says, in a sudden moment of clarity. Of course Yoseob isn’t mad that Junhyung took him home, or tucked him into bed, or woke up at five in the morning when he heard him puking in the bathroom to give him water. “You think I care that your ex is a guy?”
“Everyone else has,” Yoseob says, defensive.
“My ex,” Junhyung says, “is a guy. Kim Hyun.”
Yoseob looks at him warily. “Seriously?”
“Why would I lie?”
“So I’d talk to you,” Yoseob says. He spreads his hands flat on the table, and slowly relaxes.
“I’m not lying,” Junhyung says. He reaches out hesitantly, and then covers Yoseob’s hands with his. Yoseob flips his hands over so their palms are pressed together, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Tell me about him,” Yoseob demands, leaning forward. His fingertips brush against Junhyung’s wrists. “I’ll tell you about mine,” he adds, “though it isn’t very interesting.”
“What’s his name?” It’s weird to be sitting there like that, leaning in towards each other over a table, hands pressed together the way they are, but Junhyung likes it. Yoseob’s hands are warm and dry, crusty where paint has dried on his fingers but smooth everywhere else.
“Kim Sanghyun,” Yoseob says.
“Also a Hyun,” Junhyung says, laughing.
Yoseob considers this. He maneuvers his hands slowly, lifting them up with Junhyung’s on top, and Junhyung watches as Yoseob swivels his wrists so their hands are pressed together palm to palm, finger to finger.
“Your name has a Hyun in it, too,” Yoseob says. “Kind of.” His smile is the one Junhyung’s grown familiar with, bright, wide, and open, and it reaches his eyes.
“Yeah,” Junhyung says. He presses their hands together.
They end up on Yoseob’s couch. It’s a nice change from the first time Junhyung was there: Yoseob puts in a movie, assuring Junhyung that he’ll love it, and then sits down next to him. They start out shoulder to shoulder, and Junhyung can feel the warmth from the length of Yoseob’s thigh pressing against his. He waits until the title credits finish and the movie really starts to tentatively wrap an arm around Yoseob’s shoulder. Yoseob smiles and leans into him wordlessly. It’s nice that they can skip the awkward popcorn dance.
The movie turns out to be a romantic comedy. Yoseob squirms and insists loudly that it’s very good and not cheesy at all, grabbing Junhyung by the hem of his shirt when he makes to get up.
“All romantic comedies are cheesy,” Junhyung mutters, falling back into the couch.
“No,” Yoseob says simply. He grabs Junhyung’s arm and pull it over his shoulders again. “This one is gritty. There’s blood.”
There isn’t. The movie turns out to be a longform of the music video they’ve just finished shooting, and Junhyung sighs, sinking deeper into the couch when the male lead begins running through the streets of Seoul, searching for his girlfriend before she leaves forever to study in the United States. “Wouldn’t it be easier for him to drive around? Or go straight to the airport, even, since you kind of need to take a plane to get to America.”
“He’s getting exercise at the same time,” Yoseob says. His hair brushes against Junhyung’s chin when he cranes his head to grin at him.
Junhyung ponders this. “Yoseob.”
Yoseob hums in acknowledgement, using Junhyung’s shoulder as a pivot point to rock his head back and forth. “Yeah.”
“I’m not going to do any of that,” Junhyung says. Yoseob sits up and looks at him curiously, and Junhyung backtracks. “I know this isn’t exactly first date conversation-if this is a first date-but I’m never going to run around Seoul yelling your name hysterically. I’d drive straight to the airport.”
Yoseob raises his eyebrows. “So?”
“You said you were a cheesy, hopeless romantic,” Junhyung says. “I’m…not.”
“Oh.” Yoseob laughs. “Who says we’ll even get to that point? First date, remember?”
“I want to get to that point,” Junhyung says. He lifts the arm he has around Yoseob, and slowly pushes his fingers through Yoseob’s hair. It’s impossibly soft, and Yoseob leans into his touch with a smile.
“I don’t expect that from you,” he says. “You’ll show me in your own way.” He leans back into Junhyung, yawning as he does. “Besides, running around Seoul like that would be exhausting, and you’d smell when you finally found me.”
“I don’t smell,” Junhyung says, affronted. He gives Yoseob’s hair a tug, and Yoseob yelps and smacks him on the stomach.
“Bully,” Yoseob says, digging an elbow into Junhyung’s side.
Junhyung feels a surge of affection for him, and pets his hair soothingly. “Sorry. I can run around the roof yelling your name to make it up to you.”
“No,” Yoseob says decisively. He grabs Junhyung’s other hand and laces their fingers together. “I think we have plenty of time for you to make it up to me.”
Junhyung simply pulls him in closer. “Fine,” he says. “Sounds good.” Because Yoseob is right: they have plenty of time.
Poll Round 2: And I Don’t Care Who’s Watching
Team: AU
Rating: PG
Fandom: Beast
Pairing: Junhyung/Yoseob
Summary: Junhyung’s an assistant director working on the set of a ballad group’s music video when the studio brings in a new art director.
Author's Note: thank you to my usual hand-holders and especially to my slavedriver/whip cracker for listening to me wail endlessly as i wrote (or didn’t write) this and helping me figure out my plot and how to use it! ilu all, you’re amazing ♥
Prompt Used: 2AM - You Wouldn’t Answer My Calls
“You’re late.”
Junhyung adjusts the strap of his messenger bag and continues in the direction of the office he shares with two of the other assistant directors, ignoring Doojoon. He pushes through the glass door, drops his bag in his chair, and slowly unzips his jacket. Doojoon stands in front of his desk, hands on his hips.
“What?” Junhyung unwinds his scarf and drops it on his desk. “We didn’t have a meeting this morning, and we haven’t started shooting yet.”
“We were meeting with the group this morning,” Doojoon says, fuming. “I know you’re not that invested in this project, but having my right hand man missing from the first meeting with the actors makes me look bad as a director.”
Junhyung drapes his coat over the back of his chair and moves his bag to the floor. “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry, my alarm didn’t ring, and I overslept.”
Doojoon’s expression softens, though Junhyung can see that he’s working hard to keep it stern. “Don’t do it again,” Doojoon says.
Junhyung waits for the accompanying finger wag.
“If it was anyone else, you’d have been fired a long time ago,” Doojoon says. He collapses into the chair on the other side of the desk, and Junhyung snorts.
“But I do good work.”
Doojoon quirks an eyebrow. “None of the PAs can even understand your mumbling.”
“I’m perfectly understandable,” Junhyung says. He pulls his laptop out of his bag and jabs the power button halfheartedly. “What do you need me to do today?”
Doojoon stands and pulls a notepad out of his back pocket. He flips through it, clears his throat theatrically, and looks at Junhyung significantly. “Make sure Dongwoon has the call sheets ready and look over them when you get the chance to make sure they’re right. We start shooting in five days. See how Hyunseung is doing with costumes, see how the lighting is coming with Kikwang, and I have the storyboard for the music video, so come see me later and we can come up with the shooting schedule depending on what Dongwoon’s call sheets say.”
Junhyung taps his pen on the edge of the laptop screen. “Have you ever found it ironic that Kikwang is in lighting when he isn’t that bright?”
“No,” Doojoon says dryly. “I do find it ironic that you don’t bring a pillow and blanket with you to work every day.”
“That’s not ironic, that’s me out of my habitat,” Junhyung says. He caps the pen and looks down at the notes he’s made. “It’s cruel.”
Doojoon snorts. “Go work.” He makes his way to the door, and then stops abruptly. “Oh, by the way. The new art director is coming in today, and I told him to look for you. Help him find the production designer.”
“Why me,” Junhyung grumbles, throwing the pen back into a drawer.
“You’re my right hand man,” Doojoon says, voice saccharine. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Junhyung waves him off. “Go do your own work. Harass a cameraman.”
“Drink some coffee,” Doojoon says warmly as he leaves. “You won’t be seeing a pillow for a while.”
The music video they’re making is for a popular ballad group that soulfully sings songs about lost love and regret, or lingering love and death. Junhyung likes the group when he finally meets them-they’re good, incredibly talented, and humble and easy to work with-but he hates their bit. He idly wonders why ballad groups can’t sing about baking and chocolate-covered pretzels.
The premise of the music video is tired and cliché. A guy receives a call from his girlfriend complaining good-naturedly that he’s late for their anniversary celebration. He rushes to apartment building, only to find her apartment door covered with yellow caution tape. The police escort him to the lobby and question him for a bit, and then leave him. He uses the lobby phone to call her up, she answers, and he desperately asks her if she’s okay, when she says she has to leave, because someone’s at the door. In a sudden moment of clarity, he realizes that the person at the door wants to kill the girlfriend. Cue some silent shots of the boyfriend crying heartbrokenly, an emotional shot of their innocent first kiss, and a fade to black on his tearstained, anguished face as he wails into the phone. There are hints throughout the video that suggest that the girlfriend died the day before the anniversary and that the calls are simply a result of the boyfriend’s guilt (or delusions).
Junhyung hates it.
“What the fuck,” he says, when Doojoon tells him all of this.
Doojoon shrugs. “I didn’t come up with it. The production teams wants it, and I’m making their dream a reality.” He studies the sheet of paper with the premise and pitch on it. “And you have to help me.”
Junhyung doesn’t buy into any of this. The holes in the plot are wide and deep enough to give an eighteen-wheeler a flat, and anguished sobbing into a phone isn’t going to undo your girlfriend’s murder and bring her back. Junhyung’s pretty sure it’s the most impractical way to handle the situation, especially if you spend all your time crying and none of it telling the police what you know about the murderer.
“Is him hysterically screaming into the phone supposed to show how much he loves her,” Junhyung says. “Can’t you love someone quietly?”
Doojoon grins. “The louder you are, the more you care.”
“I guess I don’t love anyone.”
“I’d drink to that,” Doojoon says somberly.
Junhyung hits him with an empty coffee mug.
“Someone’s in to see you,” a production assistant says, tapping Junhyung on the shoulder. Hyunseung pauses in the middle of his explanation of the detailing on the suit jacket the heartbroken boyfriend will be wearing and stares at the assistant patiently. She backs away.
“That’s unnerving,” Junhyung says.
Hyunseung puts the jacket back on its hanger. “I’ve been told that.”
“Who is it?” Junhyung turns to the assistant, who looks down at the clipboard in her arms. Junhyung isn’t sure, but he thinks her name is Minyoung.
“The new art director?” She fiddles with her pen. “He said the director told him to ask for you.”
Junhyung offers her a small smile. “Fine. Hyunseung, I’ll look at this later. Don’t add rhinestones to anything.”
“Funny,” Hyunseung says.
“I can take you out,” Minyoung says, hugging the clipboard to her chest. She blushes almost immediately. “I mean, to where he is. Not take you out, because that wouldn’t be…that wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“It would be fine,” Junhyung says, rubbing the bridge of his nose in slow, steady circles. “But taking me out to where he is would be more helpful.” He follows her out of the room and to the lobby.
“So,” Minyoung says, as they walk. “You wouldn’t mind if I took you out?” She looks at him shyly.
Junhyung shrugs. “Sure. Friday at eight?”
“Sounds perfect.” Minyoung beams. “I’ll text you my number. Oh, there he is.” She points to one of two guys sitting in the lobby. “See you on Friday,” she says, waving as she walks off.
Junhyung wonders briefly how she has his number, and then turns his attention to the guy, who is standing up, a huge portfolio case in one hand. Junhyung walks towards him, hands in his pockets.
“Yang Yoseob,” the guy says by way of introduction, bowing briefly. Junhyung looks him up and down, sizing him up. Yang Yoseob is slightly shorter than him, with good-natured eyes, an open, cheerful smile and hair dyed dirty blond. He’s wearing dark jeans, and a black blazer over a t-shirt with a graphic print in highlighter colors.
“Yong Junhyung,” Junhyung says.
Yoseob gives him a quick onceover, and then smiles again, this time more hesitant but just as bright. “Do I need to do a final interview, or do I have the job?”
“I’m supposed to take you to your desk,” Junhyung says. “Follow me.”
“Is Doojoon-ssi here?” Yoseob follows him down the hall. They pass Junhyung’s office and turn into an empty one two doors down.
“He’s meeting with the producer right now,” Junhyung says. “Here’s your desk. Two other people work in this office; they’re both set decorators, so it’ll be easier to work with them. You’ll be working under slash with me, so if you need help with anything, ask someone to get me. The break room’s down the hall; I’m two doors to the left, and the production designer’s two doors to the right. His name is Key. Kibum,” Junhyung clarifies, when Yoseob raises his eyebrows. “He just likes dumb nicknames.”
“Noted,” Yoseob says. “What’re you?”
“Assistant director,” Junhyung says. “And I left Hyunseung in the costume department without constructive criticism so I should go back before he starts sewing flowers to the blazers. I’ll see you at the meeting later today.”
“Wait,” Yoseob says. “Can I get a schedule or something?”
“Ask Dongwoon,” Junhyung says as he backs out of the room. “Son Dongwoon, extension 0590. Tell him you’re new, he’ll get you everything you need.” He turns on his heel and rushes out.
“Thanks,” Yoseob calls after him. Junhyung waves over his shoulder.
Junhyung is horrible about meeting new people. He’d been good about it maybe once, when he met Doojoon in fifth grade, but everything after that is hilariously awkward. Girls are drawn to him because they think his standoffishness is really him being cool and nonchalant, much to Doojoon’s amusement. He needs a week to get used to this new person’s presence, and another week to observe them and figure out whether he wants to befriend them or not. The observation period is that creeps out most people, and what Doojoon has tried to talk him out of, but Junhyung likes when people aren’t unsettled by him. They’re the friends that are worthwhile.
Yoseob turns out to be a good worker, and a good co-worker. Doojoon falls in love with his work ethic almost immediately, fawning over Yoseob’s design schemes and sketches, and the way that he interacts with the set designers.
“He manages people so well,” Doojoon says over lunch, stealing a piece of meat out from under Junhyung’s descending chopsticks. “The designers love him, Key loves him, and he’s using his lunch break to get a head start on shopping for supplies.”
“Don’t the designers do the grunt work,” Junhyung says. He grabs two pieces of meat to spite Doojoon.
Doojoon beams. “This is why he’s so great. I told him to come eat with us, and he just said that he wanted to get this out of the way so Sooyoung could start putting stuff together on set tomorrow.”
“You sound like you’re in love,” Junhyung says, pushing his rice bowl away. He fiddles with his glass of water.
“You’d love him too, if you actually talked to him. Instead of staring at him like a creep. He hasn’t said anything about it to me, yet,” Doojoon says thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s one of the worthwhile ones.”
“We’ll see,” Junhyung says darkly. “My method is foolproof.”
“Your staring is unsettling,” Yoseob informs him the next day. It’s the first day of shooting, and Junhyung is running on maybe five hours of sleep because of a production meeting that went late the night before, and because Minyoung had called him “just to talk.”
“Shouldn’t you be supervising,” Junhyung says, staring down at his clipboard. He blinks blearily at the checklist. “Did I call roll already?”
“In the dressing room,” Yoseob says. “But can you stop? Talk to me if you want, don’t talk to me if you don’t want, but staring at me takes me out of my zone and then we get an apartment building lobby that looks like this.” He gestures to the set.
“It looks fine,” Junhyung says. It looks like a fairly standard apartment building lobby: black square pillars, black leather chairs, postmodern looking tables, and a phone. The singer fits in perfectly with his black suit and meticulously styled hair. “It looks like a lobby.”
“It doesn’t pop,” Yoseob says mournfully. “Because you were staring at me.”
“Don’t blame me for your shitty job,” Junhyung says tersely. “Where the fuck is Hyunseung; he said he was getting the watch fifteen minutes ago.”
“Hey,” Yoseob says. Junhyung glances at him, and is surprised to see that Yoseob looks slightly hurt. It’s like looking at a kicked puppy. “I was just kidding,” Yoseob says. “It isn’t my best work, but it is just the lobby. Wait till you see the apartment set.”
Junhyung bites his lip. “Sorry. And I’ve seen the sketches.”
Yoseob brightens. “But you haven’t seen the set. It’s completely different off the page.”
“I know,” Junhyung says, trying not to grit his teeth. He pulls his walkie-talkie off his belt and radios Hyunseung. “I hope you aren’t adding sequins to something.”
There’s silence, and then, “Fuck off; I’m pressing a pair of pants. I’ll be there soon.”
“You work so well with other people,” Yoseob says dryly.
“Hyunseung and I have an understanding. And I’ll stop staring at you if you stop bothering me right now,” Junhyung says.
Yoseob scrutinizes him, lips pursed. “Let’s get lunch some time.”
“You don’t even work with me directly,” Junhyung says, checking something else off his list. “It’s not like we need to get along. Is Jonghyun here? We need a cameraman.” He pauses to collect his thoughts. “To shoot a video.”
“He was here when you called roll,” Yoseob says, patting Junhyung’s arm patiently. “And of course we’ll have to work together. You’re responsible for directing the set. I…am the set.”
“You’re not,” Junhyung snaps. “Can you get me coffee?”
“Get one of your peons to do it,” Yoseob says.
Junhyung rubs his face. “Will you get me coffee if I have lunch with you?”
Yoseob looks up, tapping his chin. “Well,” he says thoughtfully. “Yeah. I guess that’d do it.”
“Done,” Junhyung says. He hears the desperation creeping in on the edges of his voice. “Black. A lot of it.”
“’Kay. Let me know when you need me for something. Not coffee,” Yoseob says quickly. “This is a onetime deal.”
“Black,” Junhyung repeats. “Lots of it.”
“I feel like I know the way to your heart now,” Yoseob says. “Do you like pillows too?” Junhyung stares at him, and Yoseob grins. “I’ll ask Doojoon.”
“Since when are you close with Doojoon?”
“Since I wowed him with my incredible work ethic and amazing set conceptions,” Yoseob says. “But you want that coffee, right? Stop talking to me.” He backs away, still grinning. “And remember to stop staring at me.”
Junhyung wonders if he should just ask someone else to get him coffee.
Because of his standoffishness and strict adherence to the one-week observance period, Junhyung isn’t used to people actively pursuing a friendship with him. There are the girls who want to date him (and the guys that want to date him, though they are much less forthcoming), and then there is Doojoon (but he was five then, and that doesn’t exactly count), and Kikwang (who can wiggle his way into anyone’s heart), and Hyunseung (Junhyung thinks they connected over a similar inability to really let people in), and Dongwoon (whose earnestness, maturity, and willingness to get Junhyung coffee are his selling points).
Junhyung knows a lot of people, but he knows them superficially, and he’s used to this, and maybe even prefers it. It makes casual dating easier, and less significant people in his life always means less fuss and less bother.
“Minyoung’s crying in the break room,” Yoseob says when he pokes his head into Junhyung’s office. Jinki, one of the other assistant directors in that office, looks at Junhyung reprovingly, and Junhyung makes a face.
“I told her I didn’t want anything serious,” Junhyung says. He lifts his arms over his head, stretching and cracking his knuckles. “We only went out twice.”
“She’s saying you had a deep connection,” Yoseob says, the corner of his lips quirking up in an amused half-smile. “Do you normally get to that point on the second date?”
Junhyung looks at him. “Is there a reason you’re here?”
“You said we’d get lunch,” Yoseob says. “I’m holding you to it.”
“Can we do this after we wrap up production,” Junhyung says with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Go with Jinki. You guys would get along.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jinki swivels around in his chair and glares at Junhyung. It’s completely ineffective, and he seems to realize that, because it melts into an easy smile as he turns to Yoseob. “Hi.”#
“Hey,” Yoseob says. He smiles, then turns his attention back to Junhyung, much to Junhyung’s chagrin. “If you don’t come I’m telling Minyoung that you were talking about taking her out on a special dinner date tonight. And that I saw you ring shopping last night.”
“We only went out twice,” Junhyung says slowly. “And I was here until two in the morning; when did I have time to go ring shopping. She was here till two in the morning.”
Yoseob crosses his arms. “This is a girl who thinks she made a deep connection with you after two dinners. She’ll believe me.”
Junhyung groans. “Fine.” He stands up and reaches for his coat. “I was planning on taking a nap at my desk, you know,” he says, as he does up the buttons, and begins winding his scarf around his neck. “I’m not even hungry.” He roots around in the pockets of the coat for his gloves, and then pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and drops it on the desk emphatically. “You’re paying.”
“For the pleasure of your company?” Yoseob skips to the door. “I would be delighted. But I get to choose where.”
Junhyung grumbles. “Whatever.”
Yoseob chooses a standard Korean restaurant two blocks from the studio, and hollers to the ahjumma behind the counter for two orders of sundubu jjigae.#
“I might have wanted to choose my own food,” Junhyung says, tugging his scarf off. It’s deathly cold inside, but the heat inside the restaurant is fogging up the windows, and Junhyung feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. He massages his frozen fingers, and Yoseob gives him that amused half-smile again.
“They have the best sundubu jjigae,” Yoseob says. He puffs his cheeks up and blows his fringe out of his face, and begins unbuttoning his coat. “It’s really the only thing worth getting here.”
Junhyung reluctantly tugs his gloves off as the ahjumma approaches with a tray. She sets down giant stone bowls of bubbling stew in front of them, two bowls piled high with rice, and a spread of side dishes. “Tell me if you need anything else, Yoseobie,” she says, pinching his cheek fondly. Yoseob beams up at her and nods.
“I come here all the time,” Yoseob says when Junhyung looks at him questioningly. “She’s like an aunt.” He picks up his spoon and stirs his jjigae. “Eat! You look like you’re going to pass out.”
“Because I’m missing out on a nap at my desk,” Junhyung says unhappily, though it’s hard to stay grumpy when the food smells so good. He eats some rice, and almost immediately feels more awake.
They eat in relative silence for a few minutes. Yoseob eats his food peculiarly: he eats enough of his stew to make room in the bowl, and then dumps all his rice in and mixes it in. Junhyung silently dips a spoonful of rice into his broth to see how it tastes. It’s better than he thought it would be. Should he dump all his rice in?
“So do you hate your job?” Yoseob breaks Junhyung’s concentration on the rice-stew dilemma. “You just never look happy there,” he adds hastily, when Junhyung looks up at him, confused.
“We’ve worked together for three days,” Junhyung says. He compromises and adds half his rice. “How can you tell how I feel about my job?”
“You never look like you want to be there, for one.” Yoseob’s halfway through his food already. His hands are on the large side, Junhyung notices, as he looks at Yoseob’s grip on his spoon. His fingers are long and slender, with short, clean nails, strange for someone who’s been working with red paint for the past day. “And you’re always grumpy,” Yoseob says, looking at Junhyung curiously. “What’re you looking at?”
“Nothing,” Junhyung says quickly. “I don’t like waking up early,” he says. It’s a superficial explanation.
Yoseob raises his eyebrows. “That’s it?”
Junhyung relents. “I hate the subject matter I work with. All this shit about love and lost love and regret and being torn apart from the love of your life. It’s stereotypical and cliché and doesn’t have anything to do with real love. Like, take this video we’re working on. Why does he spend all that time screaming into the phone? Who’s he screaming to? Is screaming really going to bring her back from the dead? Why doesn’t he just look at the calendar in the first place and realize that she died the day before?”
Yoseob’s lips curve into a trembling smile, and for a moment Junhyung panics about potentially offending someone that he has to work with for at least another month, but then Yoseob bursts into loud, raucous laughter. He smacks his hand on the table a couple of times, turns sideways and curls over in the chair, and his shoulders shake and heave. Junhyung blinks, taken aback.
“What?”
Yoseob’s laughter slowly subsides into giggles, but he stays bent over, still shaking.
“It’s not that funny,” Junhyung says, irritated. This is why he doesn’t talk to anyone but Doojoon (who’s dating the producer and has a very stable, balanced relationship free of screaming into phones and hysterical crying) about this.
“I can’t believe you get so worked up about it,” Yoseob says, unfolding and turning to face Junhyung again. He wipes his eyes, fingers trembling. Junhyung stares at them before realizing what he’s doing, and quickly looks away.
“It’s not like you’re supposed to believe it,” Yoseob continues, oblivious. He breathes deeply, and coughs to cover up another laugh. “Suspension of disbelief, and all that. You’ve been in relationships before, right? It’s never like that. I hope.”
“Never a serious relationship,” Junhyung says.
“How old are you?” Yoseob ducks his head. “Not that you’re supposed to have been in a serious relationship by a certain age, it’s just more common.”
“Twenty-three,” Junhyung says. “You?”
“Twenty-three, too. Nothing in college?”
“No.” Junhyung puts his spoon down. “Why am I telling you this?”
“Because your gut instinct tells you to trust me,” Yoseob says matter-of-factly. He pauses. “If you trust anyone at all.”
“We’ve known each other for five days,” Junhyung says. He finishes the last of his stew, and pokes at a piece of kimchi. “Quit it with the psychobabble.”
Yoseob throws his napkin into his empty bowl. “Fine. So you don’t believe in love?”
“I believe in love,” Junhyung says slowly. He thinks for a moment. “Just not that sort of love. I love my parents. But I’ve never been…in love.”
He isn’t lying when he says this. He might be lying about never having been in a serious relationship; there was Hyun in the last year of university, but he’d been a year younger than Junhyung, and had found someone else after Junhyung graduated. Junhyung had expected it-he never told Hyun he loved him or asked him to wait. He graduated, kissed Hyun at all the graduation parties (though never in front of the cameras), and went off to go job hunting. They talked every day for the first two months, then twice a week, then once a week, and finally, Hyun had called him and told him he was seeing someone else. Junhyung wasn’t heartbroken.
“What about you?” Junhyung digs around in his pockets before remembering that he left his wallet at work.
Yoseob pulls his wallet out, laughing presumably at Junhyung’s absentmindedness. “I’ve got this. And to answer your question: no. But I believe in it.” He goes up to the counter to pay, and Junhyung busies himself with putting his coat back on.
“I don’t buy into this music video bullshit, though,” Yoseob says, as they make their way back to the studio. His hands are jammed into his pockets because he doesn’t have gloves, and his ears are bright red from the icy wind. Junhyung reaches over and pulls Yoseob’s hood over his head for him. “It’s obviously stupid,” Yoseob continues, shooting Junhyung a grateful smile. “But don’t you think it’s nice, in a way?”
“How?” Junhyung curls his toes in his boots as they wait at a crosswalk.
“That idea that someone loves you enough to run around the city for you,” Yoseob says, staring blankly at the stoplight. “And scream and fight and cry hysterically when they realize you’re gone. Like, the idea that someone you aren’t related to would miss you that much, and keep loving you even after you’ve died, and not be ashamed to show it.”
Junhyung snorts. “Cheesy. Is that what you call a serious relationship?”
Yoseob shoots him a look, and then gives him a small smile. “I guess I’m a cheesy, hopeless romantic.”
Junhyung wraps an arm around Yoseob’s shoulders. He doesn’t expect himself to do this, and Yoseob clearly doesn’t either, because he stiffens, but eventually relaxes into Junhyung. “It’s fine,” Junhyung says. “You need to believe in something, right?”
The light changes, and they cross the street.
“How’s the set coming?” Doojoon says, when he catches Junhyung in the hall. They’re shooting all of the apartment scenes that day, because it’s the only free day the actress has. Both Junhyung and Doojoon have been at the studio since five that morning, and have been so busy that Junhyung hasn’t even had time to complain about being sleepy.
“The actress is in makeup,” Junhyung says mechanically.
“I know, I was just there.” Sleepiness makes Doojoon even more patient, which is something Junhyung’s never understood. “But the set. What does the apartment look like?”
Junhyung thinks. “It’s…white.”
“Like, bare, or symbolic of her purity?”
“It’s the color white,” Junhyung says, rubbing his head. “I’ll go check on Yoseob.”
“Make sure Kikwang has lighting done too,” Doojoon yells after him.
“I’m delegating to Dongwoon.”
“Just make sure someone does it.”
“Your wish is my command, boss.” Junhyung rounds the corner, and almost runs into Kikwang, who offers him a cup of coffee with a smile that’s way too wide for 7:30.
“The lighting’s done,” Kikwang says quickly, before Junhyung can even open his mouth. “I’ll have to adjust it when Jonghyun starts shooting to get the actress’ complexion right but I’m pretty much done, and my technicians are helping other people out. Do you need help with anything?”
Junhyung looks down at his clipboard, then takes his checklist off it, rips it in half, and offers the top half to Kikwang. “Can you do all of this.”
Kikwang takes it and studies it. “Yeah, no problem.”
“I love you,” Junhyung says weakly. “See you at nine.”
The set looks like it’s almost ready when Junhyung gets there. Yoseob’s standing on the bed in his socks, tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrates on getting a cosmetic light fixture straight.
“How does it look?” he says, when he notices Junhyung standing there.
Junhyung jumps. “Good. White.”
“The producer was saying something about symbolizing the purity of her heart and love,” Yoseob says, stepping down to the floor. He toes his shoes back on. “Do you like the chairs?”
The set as a whole looks sterile and sleek; the bed is perfectly made, except for where Yoseob had been standing, an empty photo frame and a white lamp sit on the white nightstand, and the sheer curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling “window” are white as well. Pink and white balloons and red heart-shaped streamers hang from the ceiling, and two bright blue party hats and a fake cake frosted in red and white sit on a white table, between two white chairs.
“Kikwang said the lighting was going to wash a lot of this out,” Yoseob says. He crosses his arms, biting his lower lip, and Junhyung notices that his sleeves are rolled up, and that he has strong yet slim forearms. “I hate that effect,” Yoseob says, lowering his voice. “Puts all of my good work to waste. What’s the point of having all these details if they’re all going to blend in together?”
“At least it looks nice,” Junhyung says. He takes a sip of his coffee, and offers it to Yoseob. Yoseob takes it, looking grateful.
“What’s the actress wearing?”
“This beige dress.” Junhyung gestures vaguely around his shoulders. “Lacy. Flowy.”
“Boring,” Yoseob says flatly.
“Right. Hyunseung wasn’t happy,” Junhyung says with a laugh.
Yoseob hands Junhyung the coffee. “No sequins?”
“He’s not that into sequins,” Junhyung says, though he giggles despite himself. “He just kind of went overboard for this one girl group’s video, and Doojoon’s been paranoid ever since. And I like making fun of him for it.”
“Must suck to have to work with you,” Yoseob says, taking the coffee back before Junhyung can take a sip.
“You work under me,” Junhyung says, making a face. “I could make life difficult for you.”
“Oh, no,” Yoseob says, deadpan. “I might have to quit my job.”
“Guys.” Jonghyun comes up behind them. “Can you stop flirting? Key’s freaking out about not being able to find the stupid calendar and he says he needs you.”
“It’s by the-never mind.” Yoseob rolls his eyes. “I’ll go help him.” He stalks off.
“We weren’t flirting,” Junhyung says, pointing his pen at Jonghyun.
Jonghyun shrugs. “Whatever.”
“Help me with this,” Yoseob says during their break. Junhyung’s sitting on one of the chairs on the set, eating from a bowl of jajangmyun, while Yoseob stands on the bed, trying to decide what sort of destruction looks more convincing as a murder scene.
“Should the lamp fall to the left or the right? And should the streamers come down?”
Junhyung wipes the sauce from his lips, and looks around the set critically. “Is she going to grab the streamers for help while he’s killing her?”
“Well.” Yoseob purses his lips and combs his fingers through his fringe. “No. But the more destruction there is, the more violent the murder seems, right?”
“We didn’t order any fake blood for this,” Junhyung says. “Wouldn’t that do the most for making the murder seem violent? And, I don’t know, real?”
“Too gritty,” Yoseob says. “Real love isn’t gritty. It’s like bunnies and unicorns and sparkles. Maybe Hyunseung should put some glitter on her dress.”
“Shut up.”
“The wineglasses are going to be tipped over like this, see?” Yoseob leaps off the bed and walks over to the table to demonstrate. Junhyung chews as Yoseob lays the glasses on their side, fingers wrapped delicately around their stems. Junhyung tries not to stare. “And the wine will be flowing out of it,” Yoseob says. “And it will be red. Like blood. It’s a romantic euphemism.”
“Okay,” Junhyung says, looking down at his food. “Whatever you say.”
“Indeed,” Yoseob says, looking pleased. “Whatever I say.”
“How’re things going with Yoseob?”
Junhyung looks up briefly from the report Dongwoon just handed him, and then back down at it. “I’m working.”
“I told you you’d like him,” Doojoon says, sitting down like Junhyung hasn’t said anything. “And now you, what, eat lunch together every day and hang out between takes? Someone in makeup was saying you’ve become downright pleasant in the mornings.”
“I said hi to her,” Junhyung says, rubbing his eyes. “It’s common courtesy.”
Doojoon opens his mouth in the facsimile of a gasp. “I didn’t know you knew what that was.”
Junhyung closes his laptop and looks at Doojoon pointedly. “I’m trying to work. You know, that thing? That you’re not doing right now? Even though we still have a day left on the group’s solo shots?”
“I already checked up on people so you don’t have to,” Doojoon says, waving him off. Junhyung bats his hand away. “Let’s get lunch,” Doojoon says. “You already closed your laptop.”
“I’m going with Yoseob,” Junhyung says.
Doojoon’s eyes widen gleefully, and he opens his mouth, but then the door opens and Yoseob pokes his head in. “Ready to go? Oh, hi, Doojoon. Wanna come with for lunch?”
Doojoon beams. “I love it when my crew gets along so well,” he says, giving Junhyung a significant look. “Our Junhyung isn’t the best at making new friends, and it’s nice to see him open up like this.”
Junhyung resists the urge to stab his cheeks with a pen. “I’m fine at making friends.”
Yoseob looks at Junhyung, then Doojoon. “We could cancel lunch and do dinner if you want? If this is a bad time.”
“It’s fine,” Junhyung says shortly. He stands up and pulls his coat on. “Let’s go.” He’s a bit disappointed when Doojoon goes to get his jacket, but he tells himself it’s nothing as they leave.
“If you had to be any animal ever, what would you be?” Yoseob sips his drink, and swings his legs out before hooking them behind legs of the chair.
“Are we in high school or something?” Junhyung stares into the depth of his shot of soju. “Any animal?”
“Ever.” Yoseob knocks back his shot, and pokes at the meat grilling on the table between them. “Extinct ones are fair game, too.”
“Koala,” Junhyung says, pouring Yoseob more soju. “They sleep eighteen hours a day and spend the rest of their time eating.”
Yoseob stares at him. “Are you serious?”
“Dead,” Junhyung says. He flips some of the meat, and puts a couple of cooked pieces on Yoseob’s plate. “You?”
“Spider monkey,” Yoseob says, without hesitation. He takes another shot, and gestures for Junhyung to fill his glass for him.
“You answered that really fast,” Junhyung says, raising an eyebrow. He takes his own shot, and Yoseob pours for him. His hands are shaky, and some of it spills over onto the table.
“Have you seen their tails? Coolest monkey ever, and they’re supposed to be one of the smartest. And I’m pretty smart,” Yoseob says proudly. He eats some meat. “Plus they’re quick like foxes. Except they’re not foxes, you know?”
“Okay,” Junhyung mutters. “Also, you’re drunk.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Yoseob chirps. “Pour me another one.” He squints at Junhyung. “How drunk are you?’
“Not at all,” Junhyung says. “Keep drinking.”
“Good thinking,” Yoseob says approvingly. “Keep them coming, bartender.”
“You’re even more obnoxious when you’re drunk,” Junhyung says, reaching for Yoseob’s glass.
“At last I’m not a bonobo,” Yoseob says thoughtfully. “They do penis fencing.”
Junhyung pauses in the middle of pouring. “Lovely.”
Yoseob smiles blissfully. “It’s awesome. You’d like them, though. They don’t like intimate relationships with family. No strings attached. That sort of stuff.”
“Hey, I like relationships,” Junhyung says. It stings a little, even if Yoseob is drunk. “I just haven’t found anyone good yet.”
Yoseob looks at him in a way that’s surprisingly sober. “You’ll find her someday. Or him. If you’re into that.”
“Yeah,” Junhyung says. “Sure.”
He wakes up the next morning in an unfamiliar living room, on an unfamiliar couch. He turns over to find his watch and wallet, neither of which he can feel on his person, and yelps when he is instead met with Yoseob, staring at him in a rather zombie-like fashion.
“How’d you bring me back here?” Yoseob asks, standing up. He moves Junhyung’s legs and plunks down on the couch. Junhyung drapes his legs over his lap and covers his eyes with his forearm.
“You told me your address. Sang it, actually, since you wanted to go to noraebang.”
“Sorry,” Yoseob says. Junhyung lifts his forearm to see Yoseob running his fingers through his hair, smile sheepish. “I…like singing.”
“So I found out last night,” Junhyung says. “It’s fine, it’s not like this happens all the time.”
“Did I say anything weird?” Yoseob asks. “Drunkenness is always funny in retrospect. Or at least, I think so.”
“You babbled about spider monkeys,” Junhyung says, smiling despite himself. “And bonobos. And you wanted to call your ex, but I took your phone away before you did anything stupid.”
Yoseob laughs, but it’s void of humor. “Thanks.”
“Should I have not?” Junhyung sits up slowly.
“No, it’s fine,” Yoseob says. “He was a jerk anyway.”
He. Junhyung raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything. Yoseob stares down at his lap and twists his fingers together.
“Well, good,” Junhyung says loudly. “That I stopped you, I mean. Drunk fights are the worst.”
Yoseob snorts. “Would you know? With your lack of serious relationships?”
“I guess not.” Junhyung sets his feet on the floor and stretches lazily. He feels a bit uneasy for not telling Yoseob about Hyun, but he’s not sure why. “It’s a good thing we didn’t have filming today.”
“Yeah.” Yoseob shifts around, drumming his fingers against the arm of the couch.
“You have a nice place,” Junhyung says.
Yoseob blinks. “Thanks. Hey, I think I’m going to go back to sleep. I’m tired and dehydrated.”
“Okay.” Junhyung gets up, and stands in front of Yoseob awkwardly. “Feel better.”
“Thanks,” Yoseob says. He’s looking at his lap, at the couch, at the coffee table; anywhere but Junhyung.
“I’ll just see myself out, then.” Junhyung grabs his phone and keys and wallet-his watch is in his coat pocket-and walks to the door. “Drink some water,” he says, as he puts his shoes on.
“Will do. See you at work.”
“Bye,” Junhyung says. Yoseob doesn’t say anything, and he closes the door behind himself on the way out.
Yoseob is oddly quiet at work the next day. Junhyung doesn’t remember the last time he had to work so hard to get someone to talk with him, and starts to wonder if he’s done something wrong, crossed some invisible line between them in the way that he took care of Yoseob Saturday night.
“Doesn’t sound like you did anything wrong,” Doojoon says, furrowing his eyebrows when Junhyung tells him. Junhyung leaves out the part about Yoseob’s ex being an ex-boyfriend. Dongwoon nods, making an unintelligible noise as he sips his soda.
“He’s not talking to me,” Junhyung says. He taps his pen against his desk. “What would you have done in the situation?”
“The same thing. Maybe he’s preoccupied about something else,” Doojoon says. “Give him space.”
Junhyung has always given people space. He gave Hyun space, and he left after five months.
“You’re fine,” Doojoon says, breaking Junhyung’s train of thought. “It isn’t your fault. Talk to him at the end of today if you’re really that worried-”
“I am.”
“-But it isn’t your fault,” Doojoon continues, maddeningly calm.
Junhyung feels like it had been his fault with Hyun, but he fails to see why that has anything to do with this. Hyun and Yoseob are (clearly) two different people, two very, very different people, and the only real similarity between them is that Junhyung cares (or cared, in Hyun’s case, though this recent hang-up with him might be indicative of something, he’s just not sure what) for them.
Doojoon snaps his fingers in front of Junhyung’s eyes, and Junhyung flinches. “Get out of it,” Doojoon says. “Do your work. Talk to him later. The film’s going to post-production tomorrow, so you’ll have time after today.”
“Fine,” Junhyung says.
“It’s weird,” Doojoon says, after a few moments of silence. “You’ve never cared so much about losing a friend.”
“I have,” Junhyung says. “Really,” he insists, when Doojoon raises his eyebrows. “I mean, just because none of us have ever fought, doesn’t mean I don’t care about the relationships I have with other people.”
“Sure,” Dongwoon says. “But you’ve never agonized this much about anyone.”
Hyun, Junhyung thinks. He shakes his head. That’s different.
“And you definitely never let yourself be manhandled by anyone but me,” Doojoon says cheerfully. “Or share your coffee with anyone but me.”
“That was a onetime thing,” Junhyung says sourly. “Why do you keep bringing it up.”
“Our point,” Dongwoon says in a tone that is much kinder than Doojoon’s, “is that Yoseob is different for you. Why?”
“The people who stick it out after the period of observation are worthwhile,” Junhyung says stubbornly. “It’s well-documented. Except maybe with you,” he says to Doojoon, who grins and tips his chair on its back legs.
“You didn’t even have a week-long observation period with Yoseob,” he says. “Yoseob just wiggled his way into your heart. Like me.”
“My heart was less guarded when I was five,” Junhyung says. “There’s a reason it’s so hard to get into now.”
“You say it like your heart is Harvard,” Dongwoon says with a laugh.
“My heart is like Harvard,” Junhyung says, and Doojoon falls out of his chair, laughing. The following commotion completely derails their conversation, but leaves Junhyung thinking.
Yoseob continues to ignore him for the next week, and Junhyung walks around work doing a lot of frowning. The film has gone to post-production, so Junhyung doesn’t even have the opportunity to run into Yoseob on the set, or an excuse to talk about what shade of off-white to use on a dresser that probably won’t be in the shot. When he walks past Yoseob’s office, Yoseob is hard at work on his computer, and the one time he looked up from his work to see Junhyung staring at him, he frowned and looked away. Nothing else.
“Try talking to him,” Doojoon says helpfully. “You’re not supposed to be this stressed during post-production. And I think you’re scaring some of the interns.”
“They should know what they’re getting into,” Junhyung says. He shoves a stack of paperwork to Doojoon to sign.
Doojoon sighs. “Did you try calling him? Or texting him?”
“He wouldn’t answer my calls,” Junhyung says plaintively. “Or my texts. How am I supposed to make up with someone who won’t talk to me?”
“Corner him in the break room when no one else is there?” Doojoon shuffles through the stack of papers, signing and initialing mechanically. He looks up, and Junhyung makes a face at him. He sighs again. “Are you just not going to bother fixing things? How’s that worked the other times you tried it?”
It didn’t, but Junhyung doesn’t think that’s the point.
“You’re avoiding me,” Junhyung says, when Yoseob walks into the break room. Yoseob pauses, stares at him passively, and then walks wordlessly to the coffee machine.
“I didn’t plan this,” Junhyung says. He walks to where Yoseob is, and Yoseob looks up at him before moving farther down the table to where the creamer and sugar packets are. “But you should tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”
Yoseob snorts. “The last thing I want to do is talk about it again.”
“Again?”
Yoseob’s grip on his coffee mug tightens, and coffee sloshes out onto the table, soaking into the empty sugar packets. “What I told you is kind of a big deal for me. Actually, I didn’t really tell you, it just kind of slipped out, and that was clearly a mistake, because you don’t even remember now, and-”
“What,” Junhyung says, running his fingers through his hair in irritation, “about our last conversation involved any soul-bearing on your part? You told me you wanted to be a spider monkey, I learned that you sing really well, and then you got all pissy when I took your phone so you wouldn’t drunk dial people. What, out of all of that, did I do wrong?”
Yoseob scoffs and looks away. “Forget it.”
The conversation is eerily similar to a conversation Junhyung had with Hyun, a couple of months after graduation. Junhyung had called him, Hyun had been short and terse with him for the entire conversation, and he’d had no idea as to what he’d done wrong. Hyun never told him, and so they cut back on phone calls, instead of working it out. Junhyung doesn’t want it to end this way this time.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he says plainly. “As a friend. Or whatever we are.”
“If you don’t even know what we are then what’s the point of trying to fix this.” Yoseob takes a sip of his coffee. “We’ve known each other for a month. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Yoseob.”
“Junhyung-ssi,” Yoseob says. He looks Junhyung in the eye, and then walks past him to the door. “Seriously, just drop it.”
For all of his grumpiness, Junhyung isn’t used to people getting mad and staying mad at him. There was that time that he and Doojoon were crushing on the same girl in seventh grade, and Junhyung kissed her on the cheek first. Doojoon had been furious, but then the girl agreed to go to the school dance with him instead of Junhyung, and that fixed everything. It was also when Junhyung and Doojoon made a bros before hos pact, because not sitting next to each other at lunch for those two days had sucked. Hyunseung had gotten mad at him after the girl group glitter incident, but that ended quickly, too, after Hyunseung saw how his creations looked on camera. And there are his weekly arguments with his mom, but those are always about whether he’s eating enough and does he really want to get that third tattoo? If he really wants to buy something, can’t he just get a dog?
Junhyung just doesn’t know how to respond when people are angry with him. He doesn’t have a problem with apologizing as long as he knows what he’s apologizing for, and he’s generally pretty willing to take the fall for something, even if it isn’t necessarily his fault. But this problem that Yoseob has with him seems to have come out of nowhere. Junhyung is honestly at a loss, and he hates generic apologies.
“I’m sorry.”
Yoseob looks up from the vase that he’s painting. The set designer he’s working with looks at Junhyung uncertainly, and slowly leaves.
“For what?”
“For whatever I did?” Junhyung sits down across from Yoseob, and watches as Yoseob moves the brush over vase, covering the off-white with a harsher, stark white. His grip on the brush tightens when Junhyung speaks, and Junhyung stares with fascination at the way his fingers tighten over the handle. “I’m not really sure,” Junhyung says. “But you’ve been avoiding me for more than a week now, and I know that maybe ambushing you in the break room wasn’t the best thing to do but-”
“Don’t you think we’ve been spending too much time together?” Yoseob drops the brush, and it lands with a clatter. White paint flecks Junhyung’s blazer. “Sorry,” Yoseob says, but it’s throwaway.
Junhyung looks up at him, but Yoseob stares determinedly at the vase. “I thought we were getting to know each other,” Junhyung says cautiously. “Since we only met a month ago. And we’re becoming friends. Are friends. I don’t know.”
“Which is weird, because you weren’t even remotely interested in getting to know me for a while there,” Yoseob says. He stares at his palms, then wipes them on the front of his shirt, quickly and firmly. The v-neck strains lower, and Junhyung catches a glimpse of his collarbone.
“Which was stupid,” Junhyung says. “Doojoon told you I’m shitty at making friends.”
“Sure,” Yoseob says.
“Why’re you mad? You should at least tell me, so I can fix this.”
Yoseob pushes his fingers through his hair, his movements restrained and still powerful. The cords in his forearms shift and tense, and Junhyung finds him fascinated with their movements. “You sound like you’ve said that before,” Yoseob says.
“I was in a serious relationship once,” Junhyung says, though he has no idea why he’s saying this. A last-ditch attempt to get Yoseob to really pay attention to him, he supposes. It seems to work, because Yoseob actually looks him in the eye.
“In my last year of college,” Junhyung continues. “We broke up a couple of months after I graduated. I never said I love you, or anything, and we wouldn’t scream and fight and cry hysterically for each other. We were at the point that I could have, I think, but I never did.”
Yoseob snorts. “Because you’re emotionally stunted?”
“You’re just as emotionally stunted,” Junhyung says, in a sudden moment of clarity. Of course Yoseob isn’t mad that Junhyung took him home, or tucked him into bed, or woke up at five in the morning when he heard him puking in the bathroom to give him water. “You think I care that your ex is a guy?”
“Everyone else has,” Yoseob says, defensive.
“My ex,” Junhyung says, “is a guy. Kim Hyun.”
Yoseob looks at him warily. “Seriously?”
“Why would I lie?”
“So I’d talk to you,” Yoseob says. He spreads his hands flat on the table, and slowly relaxes.
“I’m not lying,” Junhyung says. He reaches out hesitantly, and then covers Yoseob’s hands with his. Yoseob flips his hands over so their palms are pressed together, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Tell me about him,” Yoseob demands, leaning forward. His fingertips brush against Junhyung’s wrists. “I’ll tell you about mine,” he adds, “though it isn’t very interesting.”
“What’s his name?” It’s weird to be sitting there like that, leaning in towards each other over a table, hands pressed together the way they are, but Junhyung likes it. Yoseob’s hands are warm and dry, crusty where paint has dried on his fingers but smooth everywhere else.
“Kim Sanghyun,” Yoseob says.
“Also a Hyun,” Junhyung says, laughing.
Yoseob considers this. He maneuvers his hands slowly, lifting them up with Junhyung’s on top, and Junhyung watches as Yoseob swivels his wrists so their hands are pressed together palm to palm, finger to finger.
“Your name has a Hyun in it, too,” Yoseob says. “Kind of.” His smile is the one Junhyung’s grown familiar with, bright, wide, and open, and it reaches his eyes.
“Yeah,” Junhyung says. He presses their hands together.
They end up on Yoseob’s couch. It’s a nice change from the first time Junhyung was there: Yoseob puts in a movie, assuring Junhyung that he’ll love it, and then sits down next to him. They start out shoulder to shoulder, and Junhyung can feel the warmth from the length of Yoseob’s thigh pressing against his. He waits until the title credits finish and the movie really starts to tentatively wrap an arm around Yoseob’s shoulder. Yoseob smiles and leans into him wordlessly. It’s nice that they can skip the awkward popcorn dance.
The movie turns out to be a romantic comedy. Yoseob squirms and insists loudly that it’s very good and not cheesy at all, grabbing Junhyung by the hem of his shirt when he makes to get up.
“All romantic comedies are cheesy,” Junhyung mutters, falling back into the couch.
“No,” Yoseob says simply. He grabs Junhyung’s arm and pull it over his shoulders again. “This one is gritty. There’s blood.”
There isn’t. The movie turns out to be a longform of the music video they’ve just finished shooting, and Junhyung sighs, sinking deeper into the couch when the male lead begins running through the streets of Seoul, searching for his girlfriend before she leaves forever to study in the United States. “Wouldn’t it be easier for him to drive around? Or go straight to the airport, even, since you kind of need to take a plane to get to America.”
“He’s getting exercise at the same time,” Yoseob says. His hair brushes against Junhyung’s chin when he cranes his head to grin at him.
Junhyung ponders this. “Yoseob.”
Yoseob hums in acknowledgement, using Junhyung’s shoulder as a pivot point to rock his head back and forth. “Yeah.”
“I’m not going to do any of that,” Junhyung says. Yoseob sits up and looks at him curiously, and Junhyung backtracks. “I know this isn’t exactly first date conversation-if this is a first date-but I’m never going to run around Seoul yelling your name hysterically. I’d drive straight to the airport.”
Yoseob raises his eyebrows. “So?”
“You said you were a cheesy, hopeless romantic,” Junhyung says. “I’m…not.”
“Oh.” Yoseob laughs. “Who says we’ll even get to that point? First date, remember?”
“I want to get to that point,” Junhyung says. He lifts the arm he has around Yoseob, and slowly pushes his fingers through Yoseob’s hair. It’s impossibly soft, and Yoseob leans into his touch with a smile.
“I don’t expect that from you,” he says. “You’ll show me in your own way.” He leans back into Junhyung, yawning as he does. “Besides, running around Seoul like that would be exhausting, and you’d smell when you finally found me.”
“I don’t smell,” Junhyung says, affronted. He gives Yoseob’s hair a tug, and Yoseob yelps and smacks him on the stomach.
“Bully,” Yoseob says, digging an elbow into Junhyung’s side.
Junhyung feels a surge of affection for him, and pets his hair soothingly. “Sorry. I can run around the roof yelling your name to make it up to you.”
“No,” Yoseob says decisively. He grabs Junhyung’s other hand and laces their fingers together. “I think we have plenty of time for you to make it up to me.”
Junhyung simply pulls him in closer. “Fine,” he says. “Sounds good.” Because Yoseob is right: they have plenty of time.
Poll Round 2: And I Don’t Care Who’s Watching