Chapter Text
“You have some nerve showing up here after all these years,” Changbin tells Jisung. His eyes are glittering with unshed tears and his lips are rounded into a pout and wow, Jisung thinks. He’s really going all out.
Jisung breathes in. He licks his lips. Swallows. “I missed you,” he says.
Changbin snorts and rolls his eyes. “You were the one who cut me out.”
Jisung’s reply is immediate. “Only because you made it clear you didn’t want me around.”
Changbin laughs. When he next speaks, his voice is small. “Didn’t want you around?” he repeats. “Everything about me changed as soon as you weren’t there.”
As Jisung stares down at Changbin, a lump starts to form in his throat. It’s quiet for a long moment and then Jisung sighs, exasperated. “Line,” he calls out.
From where he’s sitting next to Changbin on the couch, Chan shuffles through the rumpled script he’s holding and clears his throat. “‘Then you shouldn’t have pushed me away.’”
“Then you shouldn’t have pushed me away,” Jisung repeats, enunciating sharply. “Fuck.”
He sits down on the couch between Chan and Changbin and rakes his hands through his hair. “I’m never gonna get this.”
“Of course you will,” Changbin tells him, rolling up the script he’d been reading and bopping Jisung on the head with it. Jisung just pulls a face; he has no idea how Changbin can be so certain.
“Do you want to keep going?” Chan asks.
“Nah,” Jisung replies. “It’ll just freak me out even more.”
“The read-through isn’t for a couple of days yet,” Chan reminds him. “You have plenty of time to practice some more.”
Jisung hugs his legs to his chest and tucks his knees under his chin. “I just don’t wanna look stupid,” he admits.
“No-one will expect you to be off-script for the read-through, anyway,” Changbin says. “It’s not like it’s a rehearsal.”
“I’m the only one of the cast with no prior acting experience,” Jisung reminds him sulkily. “I just want to show them I can do everything perfectly.”
“First of all,” Chan says. “You totally have acting experience. What about all of our music videos?”
Jisung opens his mouth to say that it’s not the same but Chan continues before he can get a word out. “Secondly, a read-though isn’t about doing everything perfectly, or performing as you would on camera. It’s for everyone involved in the production to get a feel for the project. The others will be reading from their scripts, too.”
Jisung sighs. He knows Chan’s right; that is how read-throughs work and it’s not like he’s a complete amateur. He and Chan and Changbin have filmed around twenty MVs since they debuted. They’ve also gone on variety shows and have been interviewed on various programmes. But acting in a drama is something new, something he’ll be doing without Chan and Changbin flanking him, and it utterly terrifies him.
When the company told him that a drama production company had asked him, especially, to audition, he’d been flattered. When they’d been impressed and had offered him the part, he’d instantly said yes. Because the truth of the matter is, Jisung wants to try new things; it’s just that each and every one of those things floods his body with terror. It had been the same when 3RACHA had debuted, and when they’d done their first music show performance, their first fansign, their first tour. After years of performing, it never gets easier.
Before, Jisung thought this anxiety would go away naturally, through age or experience, but he quickly found it didn’t work that way. While it often recedes, like waves pulling back from the shore, it never goes away for good. It’s a tidal thing, always returning, and Jisung thinks he’ll never be free of it. He’ll always be at the mercy of his own feelings. And so, he takes all the chances he wants to take and just hopes he doesn’t drown. He powers through, despite the nerves and the nausea, despite the fogginess clouding his brain and the way his heart quickens in his chest. He powers through because he needs to keep doing things or he’ll slow down, fall behind, and stop altogether.
And if he stops, he thinks, he may as well cease existing.
It’s better to be perfect, to be at the centre of everything, the one standing in the light. Still, this pressure wears him down sometimes, dulls his brightness, like he’s a diamond in reverse.
On dark days, he’ll look up physical symptoms of stress and anxiety (a lump in his throat when he swallows—like he’s a kid and he’s about to cry, a clenched jaw, tension headaches, fatigue, heart flutters) just to remind himself that’s all it is and not some unknown and thus more frightening ailment. In this way, anxiety is almost a friend, almost a relief.
“Unclench,” Chan reminds him, as he so often does, drawing Jisung out of his thoughts. “And stop trying to gnaw through your bottom lip while you’re at it.”
Jisung exhales heavily and leans forward. “Can we work on a song or something?” he asks. “That’ll help me relax.”
“Sure,” Chan says. He stands, stretches, and walks over to sit at his desk. After shaking the mouse around a bit to wake up the computer, he opens up some recent WIP and hits play.
The three of them workshop the track for a while, the sky above them shifting outside the skylight, pale blue passing into dark blue passing into black, the darkness bleeding into the studio, too, blanketing the room in shadows. Jisung yawns hard, his eyes tearing up, as he gets up to switch on a light.
Chan looks over his shoulder to give Jisung a once-over. “Maybe you should head back to the dorm and get some rest,” he says.
The urge to protest rises up through Jisung before hurriedly scurrying away. The read-through is in a couple of days and he needs to be in good condition, which means no late nights at the studio. “Okay, hyung,” he says. “I’ll see you back there.”
“Don’t forget these,” Changbin says, passing Jisung the printed-out scripts they’d been working with earlier (one clean, the other covered in highlighter comet-trails and Jisung’s scribbly margin notes).
“Thanks,” Jisung says, stuffing the papers inside his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.
“Try not to go over it a million times while you’re in bed,” Chan tells him, scolding.
“I won’t,” Jisung says, already knowing he will.
Chan huffs a laugh out of his nose before turning back to the computer screen to save the progress they’ve made on the track.
Jisung waves as he leaves the studio and then he makes his way down the corridor to the elevator, riding it down two floors. He washes up before changing into his pyjamas and climbing into his bunk. After arranging a mound of pillows to lie against, he boots up his laptop and opens Youtube.
As he’s done every night for the past few weeks, he clicks onto a clip compilation video that’s called ‘Lee Minho acting moments that live in my head rent-free’.
Minho is the actor who will be playing Jisung’s love interest in Leather and Lace, the drama they’ll be starring in. It’s a romantic melodrama centred around two estranged childhood friends who reconnect as adults. Jisung will be playing Son Minki, an underground rap star who performs under the stage name, DIALtone, and Minho will be playing Song Jinwoo, a troubled ballet dancer. That they both have experience working in the professions of their characters—Jisung being a main rapper in an idol group and Minho having trained as a ballerino before entering the entertainment industry—can only have helped them in being casted.
In contrast to Jisung, Minho is a seasoned actor, having acted in many award-winning dramas over the past handful of years. Jisung was surprised, actually, to learn they’d be working together, as it was no secret that the company producing Leather and Lace made dramas with mediocre reviews and low viewership ratings. When this had been hinted at in a recent interview, Minho had said he was keen to take on a role where he could show off his dancing skills.
Jisung intently watches the clips play out on his laptop screen. There’s a part of him that can’t quite believe he and Minho will soon be filming together. It feels unfathomable to him. Of course, Jisung has seen some of the dramas Minho has starred in before, because everyone has. In truth, Jisung had always thought Minho looked intimidatingly beautiful on television. The kinds of characters he’d play were aloof, severe, intense, qualities only heightened by his sharp, graceful features, a gaze that was always cold and dark, reminding Jisung of a moonlit body of water. Minho possessed what one might call an icy, cruel sort of beauty.
In the character sheet of Leather and Lace, though, Jinwoo is described as delicate and fragile, like glass, so different from the disinterested love interests or antagonists that Minho usually played, and Jisung often found himself trying to picture Minho in this role as he sat and went through his script over and over.
The acting compilation video comes to an end and a different video starts, a dance performance recording this time. Jisung watches, transfixed, as Minho stands alone in a column of light. He’s wearing golden armor over white gossamer robes, light trembling on the metallic surface. Bare-footed, he rises onto his toes and bends forwards, his leg extending behind him smoothly. When Minho raises his head and glares directly at the camera, Jisung holds his breath and pauses the video, freezing Minho in that elegant pose, his gaze boring into Jisung as if he were there in the room with him.
For a moment or two, he just stares. Then, he thinks, this is the face of the man my character will fall in love with.
Exhaling in one long rush, Jisung closes his laptop without finishing the video and, newly inspired, goes back to learning lines, the sheets of paper making a soft, swishing noise as he cards through them.
-
When Jisung arrives at the place where the read-through is being held, he’s not entirely sure what to do with himself.
He thinks about taking a seat at the huge table but everyone else is standing, huddled together in little clusters and chatting loudly. Jisung feels immediately shy and out of place; he’s aware he must look flushed and sweaty, having rushed over to the building even though he wasn’t even running late. Nervousness and excitement swirl together inside of him so that they’re indistinguishable from one another. Fanning himself with his hand, Jisung takes off his scarf and hoodie, draping them over a random chair and then hovering by it, smiling vaguely and at nobody in particular. Eventually, the director and a few producers come over to greet him and Jisung bows as he thanks them again for the opportunity.
Jisung spots Lee Minho in the centre of a group across the room from him, wearing a black, silk shirt and slacks, boots with chunky silver buckles on them, a silver chain and drop earrings with a tiny bead of opal at the end. Everything about him is elegant, from his outfit to the way his hair is styled, swooping across his brow. Jisung can’t hear what he’s saying from where he's standing but there’s a moment where he makes some comment and then there’s a beat and then everyone laughs while Minho himself remains blank-faced. Eventually, though, his lips curve into a teasing smile and he shoves the actor standing to his right good-naturedly.
Then, his glance shifts, and he’s looking right at Jisung. He widens his eyes in mock surprise and points at Jisung, mouthing the word, ‘you’. Jisung’s hands flutter upwards from where they were gripping the back of the chair and he presses his palms flat against his chest. His heart is racing and he doesn’t know what he’s even doing. Frowning, he finds himself mouthing back, ‘Me?’
Minho beams then, flashing Jisung all his teeth, and Jisung just frowns even deeper because there’s no way a smile should be allowed to be that beautiful.
Before he can attempt to return such a smile, though, someone else approaches him. Jisung startles, turning on his heel to greet them. It’s an actor Jisung recognises from some of the production company’s previous dramas—he’d even played a lead role in one of their latest shows, in fact—and Jisung bows, crying out a flustered hello.
“Hello,” the actor returns, sounding similarly flustered. “I’m Kim Daehwa. I just wanted to introduce myself because, well, we’ll be working together but also because I’m a huge fan of yours.”
“Of mine?” Jisung replies, blinking up at Daehwa, who turns out to be even more handsome in real life than he is on screen. “But I’ve never- I mean, this is my first acting job.”
Daehwa smiles, his cheeks dimpling. “I know that,” he says. “I mean I’m a huge fan of your band, 3RACHA?”
“Oh!” Jisung bows again. “I- um, thank you so much.”
Daehwa hums as if to say don’t worry about it. “Your first read-through can be kind of nerve-wracking, huh?” he asks, shooting Jisung this knowing, conspiratorial sort of look.
Jisung lets out a sigh of relief. “It’s like you read my mind,” he groans. “I’ve been worrying about this for weeks. I’ve been driving the guys crazy making them read lines with me and stuff.”
“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Daehwa says, before doing a tiny fist pump. “Fighting!”
“Fighting,” Jisung repeats in a weak voice. “Take good care of me.”
Daehwa laughs. “I will do,” he promises before he wanders away to chat to some of the other actors, leaving Jisung on his own again. Before he can start working up enough courage to go and introduce himself to Minho, though, the director is clapping his hands together and asking everyone to take a seat so they can begin.
On the other side of the room, Minho stops play-fighting with whoever he was joking around with, smooths his hair back into place, and takes a seat, shuffling closer to the table with a pleased smile on his face. Jisung nearly stumbles into his own chair because he’s so busy staring at him. He’s actually finding it kind of difficult to keep his eyes off of Minho and can’t quite work out if it’s because he’s slightly star-struck, still in disbelief over the fact that he’ll have to act opposite him, as his love interest, or because, on some subterranean level of his brain, he expected Minho to have a similar, icy aura to that of the characters he plays and is finding that, in actuality, he’s the playful type, friends with everyone in the room and happy goofing around.
Whatever the case, Jisung is certain he’ll die of embarrassment if he’s caught looking at Minho again so he distracts himself by looking at his phone instead. There are a couple of messages from Chan and Changbin and his manager, Yeji, there. He half-reads them and then locks his phone as the director starts speaking.
“Leather and Lace is, primarily, a romantic melodrama,” the director tells the producers, who are all listening politely, nodding along. “However, it is also the story of two individuals. Jinwoo is a beautiful-yet-troubled ballet dancer, while Minki is a tough and self-destructive underground rapper. They are childhood friends who grew estranged, and the show picks up when they meet again, older but not wiser. Our first lead actor, Lee Minho, is a trained ballerino, and he performed in acclaimed ballets for years before entering the entertainment industry. Similarly, Han Jisung is an idol who performs in an energetic, rap-focused group. As you can see, we chose the lead actors very carefully, picking them in part for the real-life skills they have, in order to add an air of authenticity to the show.”
Jisung listens carefully as the director speaks, his skin prickling warmly when his name is said aloud and everyone turns to glance at him.
“As the show is focused on their romantic relationship, however,” the director continues, “the chemistry between the two leads should be the highlight.”
There is a murmur of agreement amongst the producers. Jisung swallows and looks across the table to catch Minho’s eye. Minho winks at him.
“And now,” the director goes on, taking his seat now. “We will begin the read-through.”
The room quietens and Jisung looks down at the script; he knows he has the first line. In the first scene, his character is sparring with his personal trainer and venting about an upcoming show. Jisung clears his throat, squints at the words sprawled across the page, glowing a neon yellow and surrounded by indecipherable notes, and starts speaking.
“It’s fucked,” he says, his voice sounding too-loud in the room. “They didn’t even wanna pay me for it. Thought I’d just come for the exposure.”
“Are they kidding? Assholes.” That’s Daehwa. Once he’s finished speaking, he looks towards Jisung and offers a supportive smile.
The next couple of hours pass in a blur, Jisung alternating between staring down at his script and attempting to look Minho in the eye as he delivers all his lines in flirt. The producers are apparently happy with the performance, though, because by the time they’re finished with the script for the second episode, they break out into applause.
Jisung dazedly gathers his stuff once they’re done, shooting a text to Chan and Changbin to say that he’s in over his head, that he can’t do this, that the entire cosmos is conspiring against him.
Changbin replies first.
binnie-hyung 🐰
FUCKING UP MERCURY AS WE SPEAK
get wrecked in retrograde, bitch.
Chan sends his response around two seconds later.
channie-hyung 🐺
no way, my guy
ur the best of us
😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘
Jisung snorts.
me
i am quite clearly the most chaotic and least stable person in this room
everyone’s got vibes like they’re either homeowners or wifed up with kids or both
binnie-hyung 🐰
you are a sexy, working professional though??
i’ll wife you up if no-one else will??
Jisung laughs again as he begins to reply but then someone is tapping him on the shoulder and he nearly drops his phone in his attempt to hide it (he has a cutesy Chan photocard stored in the back of his phone case and his lock screen photo is a picture of Changbin that should never, ever see the light of day).
“I’ve been standing here for like two minutes,” Lee Minho tells Jisung, tapping him on the shoulder again and standing entirely too close.
“A little warning might be nice,” Jisung replies weakly. “Clear your throat next time, maybe?”
Minho laughs. “Han Jisung,” he says, like he’s announcing it to the world. “Hello.”
“Hi,” Jisung replies, slotting his phone into his pocket. He can’t quite believe Minho is standing in front of him but here he is.
“You’re coming to dinner with me,” Minho continues, and it’s a demand rather than an invitation, and Jisung really can’t believe it now, the entire situation taking on an even more surreal quality when Minho links his arm through Jisung’s own and starts tugging him towards the door.
“Um, okay,” Jisung replies, allowing himself to be escorted out of the room.
They ride the elevator down to street level as Minho taps at his phone at lightning speed. “I got us a reservation at R. Quartz,” he says, not looking up from the screen. “And my driver is already waiting for us.”
Jisung just nods as he hurriedly types out a message to Yeji to let her know where he’s going.
The elevator pings.
Minho leads Jisung out into the cornflower blue evening and then they’re climbing inside a sleek, black car. Once they’re inside, Minho sighs and unzips his boots, kicking them off.
“Did you hear that guy?” he says, slouching down in his seat and fluffing up his hair with his hand to mess it up. “‘As the show is focused on their romantic relationship, the chemistry between the two leads should be the highlight.’ As if the whole world is gonna immediately tune out if they realise you mightn’t have a permanent boner for me or whatever. As if.”
Jisung laughs, the tension in his shoulders slackening a bit. “I dunno,” he admits. “When he put it that way, I kind of felt a tremendous and overwhelming amount of pressure. Didn’t you?”
Minho rolls his eyes and props his feet up in the empty seat next to Jisung. “Not really,” he says, eyes twinkling. “And luckily for you, I have pretty great chemistry with practically everyone, so we needn’t worry.”
Jisung raises his eyebrows.
“If there’s no chemistry, it’s down to his shitty writing,” Minho continues, shrugging exaggeratedly. “Just saying.”
Jisung hums and then the car is slowing and stopping and they’re at the restaurant. Minho tosses a thanks over his shoulder as they leave.
“I wasn’t being wholly serious just now,” Minho says as they’re led to their seats. They’re in the sort of fancy restaurant Jisung would never dream of coming in on his own volition. It’s all glittering chandeliers, plush velvet seats, and bartenders scorching cocktail garnishes with miniature blow torches. “I do think we should hang out and get to know each other, at the very least, even if we’re not going to get along.”
Jisung opens the menu and instantly closes it. “But . . . why wouldn’t we get along?”
Minho smiles at him with only one half of his mouth. “I just kind of assumed you disliked me for some reason,” he admits easily. “You know, because of all the glaring?”
Jisung places his palms on the table and leans forward. He feels his cheeks scorch with the heat of embarrassment. “I wasn’t- I wasn’t glaring. I was just . . . looking at you.”
Minho tilts his head to the side. His eyes widen a fraction, lashes batting wildly as he blinks over at Jisung. “Why?”
Jisung shakes his head a little too forcefully. He almost wishes he could disappear, or hide behind the menu at the very least. “You’re . . . my co-star,” he says, finally.
“Your co-star,” Minho repeats, amused.
Jisung makes a vague, affirmative noise and then directs his attention to the menu again.
“I really do want us to get on,” Minho says, then, his voice softening with sincerity. “It’ll make this whole thing a lot more fun.”
Jisung presses his lips together. “I want that, too,” he says. “This is my first time doing all this and I- well, I’m not one hundred percent sure I know what I’m even doing, to be honest.”
Minho cups his chin in his hands and grins at Jisung. “I’ll look after you,” he says. “You have no need to be nervous.”
“Okay,” Jisung mumbles quietly. “Thank you, Minho-ssi.”
Minho pulls a face, his brow crinkling. “Please,” he says. “Less of that.”
“Thank you, Minho-hyung?” Jisung tries.
“Better,” Minho says. “Now, what are you going to get?”
In the end, Jisung gets the octopus on Minho’s recommendation while Minho himself gets some gloopy savoury porridge that he insists is ‘gourmet’, whatever that means.
“I mean, I perform on stage all the time, and the guys and I have starred in music videos, and we’ve done variety shows and reality shows, so I’ve been around cameras before,” Jisung is saying in between mouthfuls. “So, I really shouldn’t have all this, like, fear and dread lurking around the drama, but-”
“You do,” Minho finishes for him when he trails off. “Doing something for the first time is scary, I get that.”
“But why is it so scary?”
“It just is,” Minho replies, pushing his empty bowl to the side. “But then you do it and it becomes a little less scary and then the next time you come to do it, things are a little easier.”
“Yeah.” Jisung nods, agreeing.
“I’d bet anything you’re a total natural, anyway,” Minho goes on. “I mean, you’re good at everything.”
“I’m hardly good at everything,” Jisung replies.
“You produce music, you rap, you sing,” Minho says, counting each item on his fingers. “Like you said, you act in MVs, entertain people in variety shows. That’s a lot. That’s a lot of things to be good at.”
“All one grand fluke, I swear,” Jisung says. “How do you even know all this, anyway?”
“I do my research,” Minho replies swiftly. “And I may have been to one of your shows in the past.”
Jisung groans and covers his face with his hands. “ You , Lee Minho, have been to a 3RACHA show?”
Minho smiles. “I have. I mean, these two guys from my agency, Hyunjin and Felix, are kind of obsessed with you guys and they dragged me along one night.”
Jisung peeks at Minho through his fingers. “And? Did you like it, or did you hate it? Please just tell me so I don’t have to fret over it for the rest of my life.”
Minho laughs at him, delighted, and the sound rattles through Jisung, bouncing around his insides. He wishes he could bottle up the sound and listen to it on dreary days.
“It was certainly . . . a 3RACHA show,” Minho answers, eventually.
“Well, that’s cryptic.”
“And you’re fun to tease.”
Jisung sighs and leans forward in his seat. “What about you, hyung?” he says.
Minho raises his eyebrows. “What about me?”
“You’re pretty multi-talented yourself, right? You had this celebrated ballet dance career, and then you moved into the entertainment industry where you’ve continued to dance and mentor as well as move into modelling and acting,” Jisung says.
Minho blinks at him, fast and pretty. “Wow. Are you writing a biography of me or something?”
Jisung feels a twinge of embarrassment but he shoos it away, ignoring the urge to tear his eyes from Minho’s own, to look down, to hide. “I do my research,” he says, deliberately slow.
Minho briefly looks surprised before he’s smirking again, pleased with himself. “I am a good research subject,” he replies.
Jisung hums.
And when Minho next grins at him, he returns it.
And that’s something, isn’t it? Despite having met Minho in person for the first time a few hours ago, he feels distinctly less shy than he usually does in the presence of a new acquaintance. Maybe it’s something to do with the fact Minho is so easy to talk to, teasing in a way that relaxes Jisung. Maybe it’s because he speaks so casually, feels instantly familiar, and is good at listening.
They’re still smiling at one another when Minho blinks, breaking eye contact and reaching for his bag. He pulls out his wallet, phone, and day-planner and then shoots Jisung an apologetic look.
“As lovely as this has been,” he says. “I actually have another engagement to get to. I’m actually kind of playing hooky right now, to tell you the truth.”
Jisung laughs softly, trying not to let his disappointment show as Minho calls over a waiter to ask for the bill.
“I’ll get this,” Minho tells Jisung, looking up from a text conversation on his phone. “Hyung’s treat.”
“Oh, um, thanks,” Jisung says, as Minho leaves the table to settle the bill.
He’s been alone for around two minutes when a flustered looking man in a cream shirt with rolled up sleeves and tailored trousers walks up to him, frowning.
“Where is he?”
“Huh?” Jisung looks from the man to the empty seat across from him and then to where Minho is walking back towards them. The man follows his line of sight and sighs. Meanwhile, Minho bounds up to the man and slings an arm around him.
“Hey, Seungmin-ah,” he says brightly. “This is Han Jisungie, my co-star. Jisung-ah, this is Kim Seungmo, my manager.”
“It’s Kim Seungmin,” Seungmin corrects, looking at Jisung and then back at Minho. “You snuck off again . . .”
“I didn’t sneak off,” Minho tells Seungmin in a whine as he drapes himself around Seungmin’s neck, practically hanging off him. “Han Jisung kidnapped me.”
Jisung’s jaw drops. It may as well have hit the floor. “I did not,” he insists.
“Did so,” Minho quips.
Seungmin’s glare bounces between the both of them.
“It was more the other way around,” Jisung tells him weakly. “Honest.”
“I believe you, Jisung-ssi,” Seungmin replies. “This one likes to take off just to mess with me.”
“I like to keep you on your toes, manager-nim,” Minho says, booping Seungmin’s nose. “We can’t have you getting lazy, you know? This is a fast-paced and varied work environment.”
Seungmin shakes Minho off. “We really do need to get to that fitting, Minho-yah,” he says. “The boutique was staying open late especially.”
“In that case,” Minho says, reaching for his coat and bag, “what on earth are we loitering around here for?”
Jisung grabs his things before following Minho and Seungmin out of the restaurant, Minho nagging at Seungmin to arrange a car for Jisung.
“Someone’s picking me up,” Jisung tells him, as they make their way onto the street. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Alright,” Minho replies breezily. “I won’t.”
Seungmin pointedly opens the car door for Minho but Minho just ignores him.
“I had fun today,” Minho tells Jisung. “We should do something again, soon. Why don’t you put your number into my phone?”
Jisung wordlessly takes Minho’s phone and inputs his own number as a new contact before handing it back to him.
An autumn breeze swirls around them, leaves skittering by their feet. On the wind, Jisung catches the scent of Minho’s perfume, a sweet candied violet.
“Violet perfume,” he murmus. “Like the one Jinwoo wears in the show?”
Minho pauses, his mouth parting slightly in surprise, and then he nods, visibly satisfied that Jisung has noticed. “That’s right.” He breathes out a puff of white air. “I really wanted to get into character for the read-through, you know?”
Jisung nods. He gets this sudden and absurd urge to reach out and squeeze Minho’s hands in his own, to say, I can see how Minki falls in love with Jinwoo so easily, or do something even more stupid. Instead, he burrows into his hoodie and shoves his hands in his pockets.
“You should get away,” he says, jerking his head towards Seungmin, who’s standing by the car with his arms folded, glaring at Minho in irritation.
“I should,” Minho agrees. “But it’s fun to watch him squirm, isn’t it?”
Jisung laughs and then Minho shoots him a wink before turning on his heel and climbing into the car, telling Seungmin to get a move on. Jisung stands in the cold and watches the car peel away from the side of the road, its rear lights burning the cherry red of lit cigarettes, before merging with the rest of the traffic and finally disappearing.
When Jisung gets into his own car and takes out his phone to check it for messages, there’s a couple already waiting for him from Minho.
unknown number
han jisung!
it’s lee minho
Jisung hums out a laugh and goes to save the number as a new contact.
co-star hyung
here are some videos of my cats to amuse you on your long journey home
[▷ play]
[▷ play]
[▷ play]
[▷ play]
[▷ play]
[▷ play]
you should familiarise yourself with them . . .
. . . or else face my wrath >:3
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
Jisung dutifully watches every video, listening out for Minho’s soft voice from where he’s concealed somewhere behind the camera, sweet-talking his cats.
me
very cute, hyung
co-star hyung
they are, aren’t they?
your first quiz will be on monday
me
i will study diligently
co-star hyung
that’s what i like to hear
have a good night, han jisung
me
thanks, hyung
hope the fitting goes well <3
Jisung heads to the dorms as soon as he gets back to the company building, hurriedly eating the leftover bibimmyeon that either Chan or Changbin left out for him and then going to wash up. In bed, he watches some anime on his laptop with sleepy, heavy eyes. When he goes to unplug his phone from the charger, he notices he’s got 5 new messages from Minho.
co-star hyung
just in case you’re curious
[⇩ image]
[⇩ image]
hahahahahahahaha
[kakaotalk sticker]
Jisung opens the first image. It’s a full-length mirror selfie of Minho in a changing room. He’s wearing a mint-coloured, metallic suit that’s cinched at the waist, these long strings criss-crossing down the arms and tied in bows at the cuffs. Minho is half-shrugging as if to say, what do you think? Jisung’s thumb hovers above the screen for a minute or so until he finally clicks away and opens the second picture, which turns out to be another selfie, only this time Minho is staring at him blankly from the centre of a giant crème caramel. Jisung snorts.
me
really lovely, hyung
you should wear a crème caramel hat when we go on set
co-star hyung
that . . .
is not a terrible idea, han jisung
much to think about
goodnight!
Jisung rolls into bed, wrapping the blankets around him as he goes, finally tapping out a simple goodnight of his own before tossing his phone away and settling down to sleep.