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Chapter Text

"Eviction Notice." That was the letter that awaited me at my door when I opened it this morning. Amidst all my mail and bills.

I didn't know what to do to convince the building superintendent that I would pay as soon as I received my paycheck later that week. But up until that moment, I hadn't received it yet. My boss was stalling me. Maybe because I told him off when he yelled at me over an entitled customer who knocked over one of the store's products. Apparently, it was my fault, when it really wasn't. Go figure.

I needed to go back there and get my paycheck. The last one I would receive from that place.

I was just a regular guy, didn't consider myself special, didn't have many requirements, although some of my friends praised me, I didn't see what they saw. Maybe I have some issues, I always laugh when I think about it. That's all I needed, more problems.

A few years ago, I enrolled in the performing arts college here in Seoul, where I studied music and theater. It had been my dream since I was a kid, which was why I moved from Jinhae to the big city. I wanted to be a movie star, a renowned musician, I was good at it. But it's been four years since I finished my studies, and I've been going from job to job without ever landing a prestigious role, only playing mediocre roles in local theaters and receiving meager pay. This last job at the CD store was the closest I've been to music since then. Auditioning after auditioning, but so far, no callbacks.

"Thanks, Im Jaebeom, we'll be in touch." Baloney, they never got back to me. I wonder if I'll ever get a callback for any audition I do in the future. Should I keep chasing this dream or should I give up already?

"Come on, man, a few failed auditions don't mean anything, you have to keep trying, bro," Jackson, one of my friends, the closest one I have, and the clingiest too, once told me when I asked him the same question.

"It's not just because a few idiots didn't call you back that you should give up. You know, they're the ones losing out, you have talent, you just haven't found the right role, the role that will truly showcase who you are as a star. Listen to what I'm saying, one day you'll be as big as those American heartthrob actors." Jackson was a dreamer, he was the one who lifted me up when everything around me seemed to crumble. Currently, he was working with kids at the Fencing Center, he was a very good coach, had won medals at the Olympics and all, and when he wasn't training kids, he was training for the next competitions. Talented and handsome, that was my friend, currently with black hair, used to be blond but he said maintaining colored hair was too much work and he got tired of pretending to be a race that he wasn't, so now he highlights all his Chinese genes. His luminous black hair looks much better on him anyway.

Back to me. I need to get ready and go to the store. Before the superintendent comes knocking on my door again and kicks me out of my home.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Jun, I came to get my last paycheck," I said to Mr. Jun, the store owner, as soon as I spotted him in his office amidst a pile of papers that seemed to be store bills and invoices for new products that had arrived. He was a man in his forties, his appearance didn't reveal his age, but his irritable temper certainly

"Jaebeom, come in and close the door." Doing as he said, I closed the door and walked towards his desk, stopping in front of the chair that was there. "What do you mean, last payment? I don't remember firing you and, by the way, you're late." At that moment, I felt confused.

"You told me the other day to pack my things and go home?" I said, as if questioning him.

"Oh, Jaebeom, I told you to go home and calm down, expecting you to be at your post the next day. By the way, you didn't come to work yesterday, where were you? You know that's an absence, which means it will be deducted from your payment."

"But Mr. Jun..."

"Not a word, young man. Get to work, your payment is in your drawer. Now go work, and you will close the store today, since you arrived so late."

"Um, thank you, sir." So it seems like I still have a mediocre job despite everything, at least I'll have a place to live for now."

"Go, go." Mr. Jun said, gesturing with his hands towards the door for me to leave, and I headed towards the counter of the store.

As soon as I left his office, I called Jackson. He lives two apartments down from mine, we've been neighbors for two months since he moved to my building because it was closer to the gym where he trains.

"Jackson, I need you to do me a favor," I said as soon as he answered the phone.

"Hey JB, sure, what's up?" he said in his raspy voice, sounding like he had just woken up.

"Can you come to the store and pick up the payment for the condo fees? The condo manager is on my case for the overdue monthly payment and I can't leave here right now."

"Wait, I thought you were fired, Beom?" he asked, confused.

"Yeah, apparently not, and now I have to work overtime for being late today, so I can't leave."

"Sure thing, lucky you then. I'll be there in half an hour, I need to take a shower first."

Alright, thanks Jacks," I said, jokingly. His laughter was so loud it felt like he was right beside me.

I guess now all I have left is to work. The store seemed quiet, so I took the opportunity to browse social media and Twitter when I saw an advertisement in my email inbox.

"Auditions for new KBZ soap opera. Seeking male actors, recent graduates, aged 20 to 26, for a leading role in a new project for KBZ. If you meet the requirements, contact the number (10).** or submit your profile to this same email."

Could this be my chance?

Chapter Text

I didn't think much about how I would make it happen, the only certainty I had was that I needed to, so I did it. I sent my portfolio by email with a text describing my previous acting works and my college, clicked send and waited.

Two hours later and I hadn't received any response. Jackson came to collect payment, left, and still no response. I gave up checking my email, when I heard the sound of a new customer entering the store and went to attend to them.

Four hours later and nothing, no call.

It was already 10pm at night when I was closing the cash register and the store when I decided not to wait any longer for a response and headed home. On the way, I stopped at the corner store and, taking advantage of the fact that I still had some money, I bought some things that were missing in the fridge, a box of spicy fried chicken, a crate of beers, some snacks, dried fish, and chips, and went home. I met Jackson at the entrance of the building as soon as I arrived; he was carrying his gym bag and sports clothes, seemed to be returning from the gym.

"Hey Jacks, training late again?"

"Oh, JB! Wow, you're also coming in pretty late, geez! Your boss must be pretty upset with you," he said, placing one of his hands around my shoulder as we walked towards the elevator.

Well, he only didn't eat my liver because he was too busy with the store's bills, and here I was thinking I was completely unemployed. I guess that's good, at least I still have a salary."

"Yeah, yeah. I see that you bought chicken for me," he said, looking at the bag with water in his mouth and a smirk on his face that showed he would invite himself to eat with me if I didn't invite him politely.

"Uh, sure. Do you want to eat with me?"

"You don't even have to ask, I'm starving, I haven't eaten anything all day because of training."

"Wow, Jackson, you really need to slow down with these workouts, this way you won't make it to competition day.”

“I appreciate your concern, Beomie, but if I want to be the best, I need to do the best I can. It's the only thing I can do right now. You know that," he said, the smile disappearing from his face. Sometimes he worried me; my friend could be the happiest, funniest, and most positive person I knew, capable of pulling anyone out of sadness in seconds with his jokes and upbeat attitude. But inside, he was a ball of emotions and insecurity, feeling the need to prove himself at all costs, all because his family thought his way of being and his skills in sports were mediocre, always wanting more and more from him."

Never praising him for any achievement he accomplished. He was always at his best, always doing more, yet not recognized by those who claimed to love him so much. His mother, a former gymnastics athlete, was the one who went easy on him despite always demanding that he gave his best, like she once did. Today, retired from her activities due to spine problems caused by athletics. His father was not an athlete, he owned companies, he did not understand his son's desire to follow his mother's footsteps in sports, his wish was for his son to go to college, have a degree, work with something serious and take care of his companies when the time came. But he did not want that, he wanted to be the best fencer in Asia, that was his dream, his mother supported him despite the demands. But his father, that was another matter, he was a rock with his son. Jackson felt bad about it, he wanted his father to be proud of him, that's why he trained so hard, gave classes to support himself and competed in the hope of one day winning the gold medal and giving it to his father. That was his biggest dream. Recognition.

"Yeah, I know, but if you keep training like this, eventually you'll end up getting sick, or worse. Please be careful, okay?" I told him, looking him in the eyes while he looked at the "welcome" mat in front of my door, trying not to make eye contact with me out of shame.

"It's okay, hyung. I understand."

As we ate and talked, I decided to bring up the events of that afternoon and how I had sent in an audition application for that new project.

"Wow, hyung! That sounds cool, wow, on television and a big broadcasting network! I'm happy for you. Wow, my friend is going to be a TV star, I can't believe it." Maybe I should think twice before saying things to this guy. My god.

"Hey, hey, calm down man, it's not like that. I just applied for an audition, I haven't been hired yet. You're too hasty!"

"So what? You know you have talent for acting and you know you're handsome and have all that chic and sexy vibe, of course they'll call you for the role, have a little faith in yourself, little brother. You're going to be a star. What could go wrong?"

"Me not being called?" I replied as I drank my beer bottle.

"You're too pessimistic, man."

"And you hype me up too much with all this positivity."

"I know, I know, just wait and see, you'll thank me later."

Saturday.

Sunday.

Monday.

Tuesday and still no response to the email. Coming in and out of work, checking my phone for any new notifications or calls but nothing. Maybe Jackson was wrong this time. I guess this isn't my chance for anything and I'll just be here working like a regular person for the rest of my life.

Another end of the shift, I was getting ready to leave the store when Mr. Jun called me.

"Jaebeom, someone is calling for you in front of the store."

"I looked at him for a moment and followed him to the front of the store.

A man in formal clothes was behind the counter, black hair, medium height, small eyes, an inviting and bright smile when he saw me approaching.

"Hello, you must be Mr. Lim Jaebeom, right?" he said, extending his right hand towards me. I accepted it, nodding as confirmation.

"Yes, it's me."

"Pleasure to meet you, my name is Choi Youngjae and I work in the new project selection department of KBZ broadcasting company. We received your email and had your address, and since I was at the gym next door, I decided to come here and deliver this script with your lines for you to study for your audition next week. Is it okay for you to come to our studio next Thursday? It will be at 5 pm."

"Wow, really? Of course, I can make it, absolutely."

"Great. I'll be waiting for you then. See you there."

I was in shock that someone came to me personally, it was unbelievable. As soon as he left, I didn't wait a second longer, I left the store after saying goodbye to Mr. Jun and ran to tell Jackson the news."

Upon arriving at his apartment, as soon as I entered with the password he had given me, I saw that he wasn't alone, Mark was with him. Mark was one of our friends, he didn't show up much because of his job at his brother's company. He worked in finance for the company, so he was in high demand. I knew it was him sitting on the couch because of the tufts of ketchup-red hair sticking up. I think I was interrupting something, but I was too excited to wait, so I cleared my throat loudly enough for them to hear. Jackson and Mark have been hooking up for a while now, but it wasn't official yet. Those two.

"Oh, Jaebeom! Ringing the doorbell is still a sign of courtesy, you know? I know you have the password to get in here, but you could still give us a heads up before entering," Mark said, adjusting himself on the couch and straightening his clothes as Jackson wiped his face and fixed his tousled hair.

"Hey, Mark hyung, how have you been? It's been a while since I last saw you," I said, walking towards him and giving him a quick hug before sitting in the opposite armchair.

"Ah, work has been sucking all my energy, I can't wait to have my vacation, I'm exhausted. And with my brother always traveling, it's always up to me to handle things at the company. Today, he finally came back, so I was able to leave early and visit Jackson. And you, of course."

"I see. Visiting me. You were just catching up, weren't you? You didn't even remember me."

"Hey, a man needs a little love in his life too, you should try it. You've been single for too long," Jackson teased.

"He's right, Jaebeom. You need to get laid too," Mark added.

"Watch your mouth, Jackson," I said in a disapproving tone, but he just laughed at my face.

"I didn't say anything untrue, did I?"

Ignoring his comment, I remembered the reason why I came to his house and decided to speak up.

"Anyway. I have news," I said, shaking the script I received from the assistant.

"What? What is it?" The two of them asked curiously, quickly getting up from the couch and coming towards me to take a closer look at the object.

"I had a visit today at the store, an assistant from KBT's auditions came to deliver this for me to rehearse until next Thursday, it seems like I was selected for the audition!" I said excitedly to the two of them who started jumping and shouting, hugging each other, they seemed happier than I was with the news and I couldn't help but laugh with them.

"I told you that you would make it! I said it! Congratulations JB! TV STAR, I HAVE A CELEBRITY FRIEND!"

"Hey, I already said it's much less than that, it's just an audition, I haven't passed yet."

"So start working, rehearse, you need to show them that you deserve this role."

I smiled at him. Mark hugged me and congratulated me. I felt happy to have such good friends who supported me so much. I felt confident whenever I talked to them. After a few more hours of conversation with my friends, I went back to my sweet home, took a shower and, wearing only my light sweatpants, started reading the script and studying it until I fell asleep.

Chapter Text

I was a bundle of nerves. I had practiced that script all week and with the help of Mark and Jackson who came to help me that weekend, everything became easier. Until I needed to rehearse alone while the two of them made out on my couch and laughed at my annoyed face as I scolded them. I don't mind displays of affection between them in front of me, I even find it beautiful, but they don't need to rub in my face how much they like each other just because I'm single.

I don't know why they don't just come out and tell everyone about their relationship. Or maybe I do know, since Jackson's dad still doesn't know about his son's orientation, even though his mom does, and Mark's dad isn't what we call "completely open" about his son's decisions regarding this either.

Mark had already revealed his sexuality to his parents, and although they said they respected their son's decision, they still hadn't fully absorbed it. His father was the one who had the most trouble accepting it. His mother, as always, put him in check and made him understand that this was who their son was and that nothing would change, despite everything. She loved her son more than anything, gay or not, married or not, with children or not, to her his happiness was much more important than who her son decided to be with. But his father didn't. It wasn't because he was homophobic or anything like that, but he had created in his head since Mark was born, the idea of what his son would be in the future, who he would marry, and how he would be professionally. Considering that he only got the professional part from his son, he currently respected, not with much pleasure, the part about marriages and who he would decide to marry in the future.

That's why Mark was hesitant to show up at his parents' house and introduce his boyfriends. He never stayed with someone long enough because the guys he was in a relationship with got tired of waiting for him to be ready for something more serious. They said they "were old enough in life to have gone through all kinds of situations and wanted to settle down with someone who was equally resolved and ready for something serious."

This pressure suffocated him and their attempt to pressure the guy into doing their will made him more insecure about the rest. He didn't know if he would ever find someone who understood him and respected his time enough to wait with him. After all, nothing would change in their relationship even if they didn't go to each other's parents' house on the same day, right? For some of his exes, it wasn't like that. Until he and Jackson started dating.

He found in the younger one something he hadn't found in past relationships. Jackson was someone who understood him completely. He respected his decisions and was there for him whenever he needed it, and he thanked him whenever he could.

"You know you're the only person in this world who really gets me without asking anything in return, and I'm so grateful for that, aren't I, Gaga?" said Mark, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek as they snuggled on the couch in his house, enjoying a movie session during his visit.

"Here you go again with that story. I've told you, you don't have to say that every time we see each other, Yien. I love you too," he said, smiling at the older man and kissing him on the lips, leaving him with flushed cheeks every time he called him that affectionate way he learned to adore.

"You're so cute, you know that?" Jackson said to him as he watched him become increasingly red.

"Not at all, but you're much cuter and sexier, and I'm so lucky," he retorted, hugging him tighter around the waist and resting his head on his shoulders.

"So we're both lucky. Speaking of luck, how do you think hyung's audition went?"

"You didn't call him? I don't think it happened yet," Mark frowned at his boyfriend.

"I'll call him later, for now come here," he said, climbing on top of Mark and pinning him down with his weight. Looking into his eyes for a moment, alternating between his lips and his eyes until he planted his lips on the older's, hoping he would reciprocate. When he did, they began a session of caresses and undressing with the love they felt for each other more intensely.

Two hours before my audition, I left the record store, telling my grumpy boss that I needed to leave early for a commitment. He didn't like it very much but nodded reluctantly and told me to be back in time to open the store the next day. I accepted because I couldn't refuse anything at that moment, and no one knows if I'll pass this audition or not, so I said goodbye to my boss and hurried out with the script in my bag. Today, especially for the occasion, I decided to wear a more formal outfit: a dark green button-down shirt and dark jeans without any rips this time. A pair of shoes that I had bought a few years ago but had never taken out of the box completed my look. Since my hair was a bit long at the moment, I decided to wear it natural without gel and parted it down the middle for a more casual and simple touch. My friend and colleague from the store, Bambam, who had just returned from vacation two days ago, was an expert in fashion - with his legs much longer than his body, hair always a different color, and wearing trendy clothes. I don't think I've ever seen him wear a piece more than three times in his life since I met him - gave me some tips on how to dress.

"Beomie, you're going to an audition, how about wearing something your character would wear in their daily life? This gives the judges an idea of how you would look in the role. What do you think?"

He said the day before at my house, rummaging through my closet. I hadn't thought of that, but he was right, maybe if I looked more like the character it would help complement the role? It might even be easier to perform on stage, so I accepted his idea and fashion tips. He was right. I looked more like the character now. Casual but well-dressed. I looked good.

With the card the assistant gave me the other day, I grabbed the address and headed towards the studio. It was an hour before my turn, so I decided to take a taxi. Luckily, I didn't encounter any traffic and forty minutes later, I was already in front of the building. It was a huge place, with all the windows tinted dark, and it looked like it had at least 30 floors with a terrace on the top floor. Seeing people coming in and out of the building, I felt a little underdressed, but I took a deep breath, got out of the car after paying the driver who didn't know what I was going to do in that place, wished me good luck, which I thanked in response and walked towards the automatic doors at the entrance.

It was now or never.

Chapter Text

As soon as I walked into that building, I felt more out of place than just standing on the sidewalk watching all those people coming in and out. The lobby was huge, with an information desk staffed by 5 people, all dressed impeccably and looking happy with the work they were doing, smiling at everyone who approached asking for information. On the right side, however, there were tables with chairs and a coffee machine in the corner on a counter, it looked like a waiting room, with a few people sitting there chatting and sipping their coffee. I was so impressed with the place that I didn't notice a person in front of me trying to get my attention until I looked at them startled.

"Oh, my goodness, I'm sorry, I was distracted, what did you say?" I asked, wondering who they were looking for and if they had an appointment.

It was then that I quickly looked at her and noticed that she was one of the ladies at the information desk in front of me, she had a name tag with her name. Go Hara.

"Ah yes, nice to meet you, I'm Lim Jaebeom, I have an audition now at 5 pm," I said to her, showing her the card I had received from the assistant with my name and script.

"Oh, of course, follow me please. You need to take that elevator and go up to the 15th floor, then go to the door labeled Auditions and Training. Everyone will be waiting for you there," she said as she walked towards the elevators, giving me instructions and a visitor's badge she picked up at the information desk. While she was giving me the instructions, I tried to memorize everything and not forget anything to avoid getting lost.

As soon as I arrived at the elevators, she turned to me with a friendly smile on her face.

"Good luck, Mr. Lim," she said.

I looked at her and, returning the smile, thanked her. I really would need some luck. When the elevator reached the ground floor, I entered and pressed the button for the 15th floor as instructed. As it began to ascend, I thought of all the things that could go wrong, tried to remember my lines and took a deep breath. I was going to make this work. My mother used to say that in life, we always have "no," but we need to think positively and keep chasing our desires, even if it's difficult. She used to tell me that every time I received a negative response from an audition, or when I came home devastated from school because someone had rejected me and broken my heart. I was very young and immature at the time, easily fooled by people, they would deceive me, give me false hopes, and of course, discard me. I continued my daydream until I heard the usual elevator noise indicating that I had arrived at the floor where I needed to get off. I walked through the crowded hallways until I found the one I needed to enter. I knocked on the door and waited to be called in.

"Come in," was the response I received. I took a deep breath once again, closed my eyes for a second, and turned the door handle. As soon as I entered, I noticed that the room was enormous, it looked like an auditorium, which was impressive to me considering it was a building and everything else. Normally, these things are on the ground floor of buildings, not like this place, it was truly impressive. Burgundy velvet carpets, the entire room smelled clean, wooden chairs with leather seats, and in front of them a stage. Perhaps this was the place where those motivational speeches that every company usually gives to its employees took place.

"What's your name, young man?" someone sitting in front of me asked, with three others looking at me, waiting for my response.

"Pleasure to meet you, my name is Lim Jaebeom. I came for the audition for the new project of the network. Mr. Choi Youngjae handed me this," I said, showing the script in my hands. They looked at each other and nodded in approval, then turned back to me.

"Of course, pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lim. I'm Kim Yugyeom, from the artistic department. This gentleman on my left is the production director, Mr. Nichkhun, and this one on my right is the drama writer, Jo Kwon. We'll be conducting your audition today, so when you're ready, we can start," they said, smiling warmly but professionally at me.

I nodded to confirm and walked towards the center of the stage with the script in my hands. As soon as I started reciting some lines, Mr. Kwon asked me to stop for a moment. Confused, I paused and looked at him as he walked towards me. 

"Lim Jaebeom, this is an auditorium, not your home. In order for your voice to be truly heard, you need to speak louder. The way you're reciting these lines, it sounds like you're afraid of what you're saying. Do you want this role? Recite it as if you do. Feel the character and speak loudly as if you're in one of your plays, okay? Understood? Let's start again."

"Ouch, that hurt, come on Jaebeom, don't embarrass yourself now, you've come too far, use this opportunity."

I thought to myself as I recited the lines again, this time with more emotion and louder as ordered. Until I was asked to stop again. This time, Mr. Kim was addressing me, but he didn't get up from his chair.

"Can you recite without the script in hand? Recite the line from chapter 4, but this time without the script in hand."

When I nodded that I could do it, feeling confident, I began to recite again, with nothing in hand. I said the lines and, taking advantage of the freedom, walked across the stage as it was a scene with movement where the character confronts his friends.

As I looked at the judges' table, I recited the final lines and waited for them to say something more. Judging from their faces, it seemed like they had liked it.

"At least two of them. I couldn't say anything about Mr. Nichkhun, he was expressionless and still looking at me.

"Wow, Mr. Lim, you're really good at acting, but you need to improve your voice tone a bit, that can be perfected in the right hands. I liked you," said Mr. Kim, applauding my performance. While Mr. Kwon agreed with him and they both went into a discussion about the character and his future. But Mr. Nichkhun hadn't said anything yet. He sat there with his arms crossed, looking at me as if he was questioning my entire life.

"I don't know, something's missing in you, I don't know if it was the emotion or just your overall performance, but what I saw didn't impress me much," he finally said. As if he was challenging me.

"What do you mean? You must be crazy, Nichkhun, he was perfect! And did you see that scene where the character yells at his best friend? He delivered what he had to deliver, the scene was short. Come on," Kwon said to the other while I remained there in front of them, hands sweating cold from nerves, thinking that at that moment everything had ended because of one person. What had I done wrong? Why didn't he like it while everyone else praised me? Did I miss my chance again? I was panicking, but a distant voice took me out of my thoughts.

"I think he was brilliant, but I'll let you guys decide."

Someone stood at the entrance of the auditorium, arms crossed over their chest, wearing a dark red suit with matching pants, dark hair, a pale face, full lips, and a challenging look on their face as they approached the director, Mr. Nichkhun. I watched as they approached and followed the scene unfolding in front of me, still in the middle of the stage, waiting to see what would happen.

Chapter Text

"Lim Jaebeom, yes, I know. I heard you say that when you entered. I watched your audition. I hope you don't mind, I had to stay and see it because so far, everyone who came has been dismissed. I needed to investigate the reason," he spoke, briefly shifting his attention to Nichkhun, who averted his gaze to his notes on the table.

"No problem at all, I'm glad you enjoyed it," Jaebeom replied.

"I loved it! We need someone like you in our network. I believe you would become famous with that face," he said, lowering his voice and analyzing me from head to toe with his sharp eyes.

"Um, thank you, I guess."

"Of course, of course. I don't know about them, but as far as I'm concerned, you're in. However, we'll need to have a conversation later, what do you think?"

"Are you kidding me?!" an exasperated voice cut through the air, and everyone turned to look at Nichkhun, who was now standing up.

"Are you serious? You're going to hire this guy!? I don't accept it. He acts well, but he's an amateur, not fit for a drama in a network like this. Come on, Jinyoung! Did you go blind because of a pretty face? I'd like to see if he found out..."

"Enough, Nichkhun! You know what? You're dismissed for today. You've exhausted my patience. Go home before I regret it and fire you," Jinyoung exclaimed, his voice filled with annoyance.

"Ooooh," Kim Yugyeom chimed in from the background, mocking his colleague.

"Come with me, Mr. Lim."

Not understanding what was happening amidst all the chaos, I waved to the judges and followed Mr. Park out of the auditorium. We walked through the corridors, with him leading the way. As he walked ahead of me, I couldn't help but notice his beautiful back, slender waist that almost appeared feminine, a few inches shorter than me, and a pair of lovely legs, and a perfectly rounded...

"I hope you're enjoying the view, Mr. Lim," he teased, throwing the words in my direction, completely snapping me out of my trance and almost making me stumble over my own feet. Unsure of what to say, I simply apologized for staring at him so blatantly.

"No need to apologize. Admiring beautiful things is free," he replied in a tone that could almost be considered flirtatious, or perhaps he was just teasing me.

Oh my God! How embarrassing! I could feel my face heating up with shame. This day couldn't get any worse.

As I followed him through the corridors, I couldn't help but notice the elegance of the building. The neutral tones blended with dark accents, and the reception desk in the hallway was made of dark marble. The walls behind it had wooden tones, and orange-toned lamps added an elegant and comfortable ambiance. The receptionist on that floor wasn't wearing a uniform, just a well-fitted formal attire. She glanced at us, smiled, and returned to her work as we passed by.

Mr. Park stopped in front of the elevators, and I stood right behind him, waiting for the floor he had called. We entered the elevator, and he immediately pressed the button for the top floor of the building, the penthouse. I assumed that was his office.

Upon entering his office, he walked towards his desk and sat in the large chair made of dark leather behind it. His gaze remained fixed on me, scanning me from head to toe. For some reason, ever since I saw him back in the auditorium, I have the impression that he somehow knows me, the way he looks at me, almost as if he's trying to recall something. I wonder if we've met before outside of this place.

"Please have a seat, Mr. Lim," he said, pointing to the chair in front of his desk. Snapping out of my thoughts, I simply nodded and sat down as he had requested.

"I apologize for the scene earlier. That doesn't usually happen. My employee crossed the line, so please forgive his lack of professionalism," he said, seemingly sincere.

"It's alright. I was just a little surprised by the situation, but please don't apologize," I replied, running my hand through my hair, feeling a bit awkward. And yet, he continued to gaze at me. It was strange.

"If you don't mind me being intrusive, I would like to know the reason why you sir called me here," I inquired.

"You," he said.

"What do you mean!?" I exclaimed, taken aback by his response.

"Call me just 'you,' no need to be so formal," he said.

"Oh, sorry," I exhaled, relieved by his request. He had startled me with that.

"Actually, I'd like to hear more about you, your qualifications. I've read your portfolio and noticed that you've worked in local theaters with smaller productions. Do you think you can handle the demands of a major studio, the travel, and the schedules? If so, you're hired. But I must warn you now, I will make you work hard," he paused, his hands brought up to his lips. Either I was going crazy or everything seemed very... suggestive. "At work, of course. This is a big project, and we'll need the full dedication of the cast."

This was the opportunity of a lifetime, and I had no doubts about my decision regarding it.

"I have no doubts. I accept," I replied.

"I hope you understand what you're getting into then. I won't go easy on you. Welcome to KBZ. It will be a pleasure working with you," he said with a hint of a smile.

"I appreciate the opportunity, Mr. Park," I said, standing up to shake his hand. As our hands touched, I felt the softness of his skin. It was like the hands of someone who had never had to do anything strenuous, almost like the hands of a prince. Not that I had ever touched a prince's hands before, but they were smooth and incredibly soft.

However, Park was looking at our joined hands, holding onto them as if he were almost in awe. His gaze was unreadable, but the way he stared at our hands together was confusing. Could he be interested? No, that couldn't be it. I pulled my hand back to conclude the interaction, but he held onto it as if he didn't want to let go. I tried again, but still no release. Once more, he continued to gaze at our hands. What's with this guy!?

Chapter Text

The first rays of sunlight had barely touched the cracks in the blinds when my body stirred with sluggish slowness, as if still rooted in that fabricated night where everything I feared — and at the same time desired — unfolded beneath the warm skin of Jinyoung. For a few moments, I just lay there, eyes fixed on the white ceiling, as if the memory of the dream still hovered over me in the form of warmth or scent — there was something amber in the air, as if the fragrance of the candles I had imagined lit still lingered in my room.

I sighed, pressing my face into the pillow and letting the muffled whisper of my own breath be the only response to the turmoil that lived inside me. It wasn’t the first time I’d dreamt of him. Not in those ways. But never… never had it been so vivid. It was as if my senses had completely surrendered to the idea of Jinyoung — his steady presence, the way he looked at me as if he knew something about me I didn’t even know myself. The way his hands touched me, like my body had belonged to him for a long time, long before we ever crossed paths.

I got up slowly, trying to shake off that uncomfortable heat clinging to the back of my neck and sliding down my spine. The water in the shower helped, but not enough. Even with my face submerged beneath the cold stream, my mind kept replaying every detail: the shiver when his hands touched my skin, the husky voice saying my name like a prayer, and the kiss — that kiss.

I shook my head as if to banish a forbidden memory, avoided looking into the mirror because I already knew what I’d find there: my own sleep-reddened eyes, maybe a bit darker than usual, restless, uneasy. I dressed quickly, gulped down the bitter coffee I made in a rush, and left for the studio with the childish hope that intense work would erase the traces of a dream that didn’t want to be forgotten.

But of course, it didn’t go that way.

Filming started early, and the atmosphere on set was particularly tense. Maybe it was just accumulated fatigue, or maybe the growing hostility of Don Gum, who continued to ignore me as if I were invisible. I tried not to let it shake me — not anymore — even though his looks pierced through me like ground glass. Still, I kept my composure, because it wasn’t just about the role in the drama anymore. It was about my presence there. It was my proof that I belonged in that place, even if I had started all of this on a whim.

The scenes moved along with some difficulty. The director, however, remained patient — sometimes looking over his glasses at me, taking notes, going back through the scene with me. He believed in me, and that was why I forced myself to go on, even with a dry throat, even with the lines slowly swallowing what was left of my confidence.

During the break, I sat in the corner of the dressing room, my nervous fingers playing with the corner of the script, eyes scanning the pages as if I could find something there to explain what I was feeling. But all I found was his name again, marked with an asterisk in the lines:
"CEO Park enters the scene, watches the protagonist in silence."

There was no escape.

As if he’d heard me, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Jackson.

Jackson: Are you alive or already kidnapped by your hot boss?

I rolled my eyes, even as a faint smile slipped out.

Me: Working. And stop talking shit.

Jackson: The real shit is you pretending you’re not into it. Dreamt of him again, didn’t you? I bet my last soju.

I closed the phone without replying. He always knew. Somehow, he always knew. It was annoying — and, in a way, comforting too.

By the end of the day, I left the studio exhausted. My feet dragged against the ground as if begging for mercy, and all I wanted was silence.
But the universe had other plans.

As soon as I turned the corner to exit through the back door, I heard footsteps approaching. I looked up by reflex — and froze.

There he was.

Park Jinyoung.

Dressed in a dark suit, elegant as always, his hair slicked back with effortless precision, his eyes locked on mine as if he'd been waiting. And the worst part... or maybe the best: he smiled. A calm, restrained smile, laced with something that instantly brought back the memory of his hands in my dream.

My breath hitched. The air around me felt heavier.

He stopped in front of me. Too close.

— “I was looking for you, Jaebeom-ssi,” he said, his voice low but steady. “We need to talk.”

And in that moment, I realized that no matter how much I tried to run... reality seemed ready to cross the fragile line of my subconscious.

And maybe, just maybe… I wanted to cross it with him.

Chapter Text

Silence.
The curtains slowly part, revealing a luxurious office bathed in the soft light of a fading afternoon. The atmosphere is silent, almost suspended in time. At the center, Jinyoung sits behind his imposing dark wooden desk. His gaze—fixed, piercing—rests on the young new hire standing before him.
Lim Jaebeom.
A name still unfamiliar, but a face… hauntingly familiar. The young man was promising—his posture discreet yet confident, his résumé impeccable—but none of that mattered now. Because what truly held Jinyoung’s attention was the resemblance.
Unacceptable. Unreal. Almost cruel.
"It can't be... It's impossible. How can someone who looks so much like him be standing here, in my company?" he muttered under his breath, as if fearing that the sound of his own words would make it all too real.

As soon as the new employee left the room, Jinyoung stood up abruptly, disturbed, as if the air around him had thickened. He began pacing back and forth, restless hands, shallow breath, his chest heavy with a memory that refused to fade.
“Is fate playing tricks on me?” he asked aloud, his voice hoarse. “How am I supposed to face this resemblance without being consumed by regret?”

A sigh escaped him, deep and exhausted, as though tearing a rift between the present and the past.
And the past came.

"You’re never going to change, are you? What do we even mean to you? What the hell is wrong with you, Jinyoung?!"
The words echoed—raw and painful—repeating like a curse in his memory. That argument. The last one. The one that never dissolved with time.
He saw himself there again—silent, frozen, the words caught in his throat while the other—always him—turned his back once more.
Taking with him the last hope of a new beginning.
All that remained was Jinyoung, alone at that desk, with the same glass in hand, the same bitter taste on his lips, and the same feeling of defeat tattooed on his heart.

“Maybe I really am a coward...” he thought.
Not even tears would come. He didn’t believe he deserved them. He knew losing that love was a direct consequence of his own silence. And he carried that guilt like a shadow.

“I wasn’t a good partner. I didn’t show my love or the gratitude I felt when it mattered most. Now it’s too late. He’s gone, taking with him the words I never had the courage to say. ”

The night he got the call still burned like a blade. It was the middle of the night. The city slept.
And he collapsed—silently—into a breakdown with no witnesses.
From that moment on, he began to drink like someone begging to forget. He became a familiar figure in the halls of the company—always unshaven, eyes distant, and slurred words when he came home too drunk to remember who he was.

Nichkhun saw everything. He watched him fall apart in silence, day after day. Not out of compassion — far from it. In Jinyoung’s decline, he saw an opportunity. If that man continued to spiral, perhaps the board would reconsider the future. Perhaps he, Nichkhun, would finally ascend to the position he had always coveted.

Brother-in-law or not, he wouldn’t lift a finger.

“I wonder if you ever knew how much I regretted…” Jinyoung would murmur on nights when no one was listening. “I know I tried to change. A little. Maybe a lot. But never enough. I was foolish. Selfish.”

And that was why, every now and then, his body would take him to the same place: in front of Aaron’s grave.
His first — and only — love.
And perhaps, the biggest mistake of his life.

Back to the present. The meeting had ended. But the impact of that face still echoed in his chest.
He walked to the window of his office, letting his eyes wander over the horizon tinted with gold. The words surfaced in his mind like a prayer — or a sentence:

I promised myself I would never let a chance to love — and be loved — slip away again. But now… fate brings me this terrifying resemblance.
It’s as if you’ve come back to haunt me. To remind me of what I lost…

He sighed and turned, determined. Walked over to the old dark wooden drawer, locked for years. He turned the key with reverent slowness, as if opening an old wound. From inside, he pulled out a photograph.
Aaron’s face still stared back at him with sweetness. He held it with both hands, as if afraid it might disintegrate.

“I miss you so much, Aaron… I’m so sorry I didn’t do enough while you were still here,” he whispered, eyes misty but steady. “Now life gives me this second chance… and I won’t waste it. I swear I’ll become the man you deserved me to be.”

With a delicate gesture, he placed the picture back in the drawer and closed it — as if sealing not just a memory, but a promise.
He knew how insane it sounded. Ridiculous, even.
But the intensity of what he felt when he held that hand — Jaebeom’s hand — wasn’t a fantasy.

It was real. So real that, for a second, he believed Aaron was standing there.

He wasn’t. He knew that. But… if life was offering him the chance to begin again, then so be it.

“You might not know it yet…” he murmured to himself, “but I see in you the chance to fix what was broken. I want to be the mentor you need. But I also want to learn from you. Hear your ideas, your vision… and do everything I can to help you grow. To help you bloom.”

He straightened his suit, took a deep breath, and crossed the room to the hall, where Jaebeom was waiting.

He extended his hand with firmness and an honest smile — one of the few he could give without masks.

“Welcome to the company, Jaebeom. I’m looking forward to working with you and building something incredible together. But don’t be mistaken…” he added, a gleam in his eye, “I won’t go easy on you.”

Jaebeom, surprised and moved by the unexpected honesty, shook the CEO’s hand with respect.

“Thank you, sir. I’m excited to be part of this team… and to learn from someone like you.”

And so the two men walked away, their footsteps echoing across the marble floor, carrying with them the weight of the past — and the still-fragile hope that the future might, perhaps, be different.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The moment the conversation ended, I could feel the air between us thinning, not dispersing like something harmless, but retreating into a tense, unsaid weight that followed me as I walked away. My footsteps on the polished stairs of the trailer sounded too loud in my own ears, as if each step was an accusation. I had told myself I was only here to supervise, to ensure the project stayed on track. But somewhere between watching Jaebeom’s eyes avoid mine and catching the faint strain in his voice, I realized I was reacting to him in ways I hadn’t prepared for. He did remind me of him, and I let him know it. Why did I do that? I didn’t know, but I left as soon as I realized I had said too much with no intent of continuing that conversation, I wasn’t ready.

I should have stayed. That much was certain. There had been a shift in his expression, something unguarded, almost… lost, confused. And I’d turned my back on it. Left it suspended in the stale air of his tent, leaving him with nothing but the echo of my shoes scraping against the floor.

I told myself it was better that way. I am not here to blur lines. I am not here to get involved. But the truth was simpler and far less noble. I left because I didn’t trust myself to keep looking at him without letting something slip.

Even as I moved between crew members and offered polite nods to the staff, my thoughts pulled back to him. Jaebeom with his drawn, sleepless face. The pale cast to his skin. The faint tremor in his hands when he thought no one was watching. There was a vulnerability there, and the part of me that thrives on precision and control hated how much I wanted to reach for it.

By the time I reached my car, the weight of my own abruptness pressed against my chest. I had cut the moment too sharply. I had left without giving him a single thread to hold on to. And in that silence, my absence might have sounded a lot like disapproval.

***

I stayed at the venue until the sun was low, shadows stretching long and cool across the asphalt. The crew wrapped for the day, voices fading into the background as I gathered my things. But my mind wasn’t on the shoot anymore, it kept circling back to the look on Jinyoung’s face right before he left.

Something about it made my stomach knot. He hadn’t been angry exactly… but there was a finality in the way he straightened his shoulders, as if he’d closed a door I hadn’t even realized was open. I replayed my words, every pause and glance, searching for something careless I might have said. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that I’d crossed a line without knowing it. I guess I shouldn't have said that to him, since he is my boss, I should be more respectful, maybe that was the reason why he looked so burdened.

The walk home didn’t help. The city felt too big that night, every sound sharp, every light too bright. My body was running on a handful of hours without sleep, my head crowded with thoughts that refused to stay in order. Even when I tried to focus on something else, my mind slid back to him. His voice. The faint scent of cologne when he passed me. The controlled warmth of his tone, the kind you only notice when it’s suddenly gone. He was nice enough to bring me coffee and be worried about my state, I should really know better than to treat him that way, I needed to apologize to him later, but I don’t know how. 

I’d almost convinced myself to let it go, to stop overthinking it, when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, half expecting some production notice for the next day, but the number on the screen made my pulse stutter. I recognize the number from the other ones that had called me from the company.

Unknown Number…

      "Hi, Jaebeom, this is Park Jinyoung, I’m sorry for contacting you this late, but I had to say that I am sorry for the way I left. I’m not used to doing this, so I apologize."

I read it twice. The words were polite, measured but I could almost hear the hesitation behind them, the same hesitation I’d felt in him earlier. A strange mix of relief and unease settled over me. I didn’t know what he meant by not used to doing this, but I knew one thing whatever was forming between us, it wasn’t going to stay neatly contained.

And suddenly, I wasn’t sure if that thought terrified me… or thrilled me.

The phone rested on my palm as though it weighed more than it should. I had just set my bag down in the hallway when the screen lit up, the soft vibration cutting through the heavy quiet of my apartment. That number on my screen, and that message was enough to pull me out of the restless fog I’d been in since leaving the set. My mind immediately replayed the moment his abrupt retreat, the subtle stiffness in his shoulders, the half smile that looked more like a mask than an expression. I didn’t want him to think I was holding a grudge. I didn’t want the awkward air to linger between us. 

I typed without thinking too much, the words spilling as if they’d been waiting.

       “It’s okay. Really. I should be the one apologizing for the way I talked to you. I’m… really sorry if I made you uncomfortable with my harsh words.” 

I read it over once, twice, hesitating before pressing send. There was a strange vulnerability in admitting it, as though my own voice sounded softer than usual. His reply came sooner than I expected.

       “I’m okay. That wasn’t the problem. I understand you, and I accept your apologies.”

I should have left it there, should have accepted his reassurance and moved on. But something in me resisted the same instinct that had made me notice the quick flicker in his eyes earlier, the subtle way his fingers tightened around his coffee cup before he excused himself. It didn’t feel like the whole truth.

      “Are you really okay?” 

This time, there was a pause. The typing bubble appeared, disappeared, returned again. 

     “ Why are you asking that?”

I hesitated, my thumbs hovering above the screen, before answering simply: 

    “Because it felt like you were running from something”

The silence that followed was thick. I almost regretted sending it. But then, his reply arrived, short, bare, and heavier than any long explanation could have been.

        “ Maybe I am. ”

I stared at those three words, my chest tightening in a way I couldn’t quite name. There was no elaboration, no joking deflection, no neat closing to the conversation. Just that, an admission wrapped in vagueness, like a door half open to a room I couldn’t see into yet. The hum of the refrigerator filled the quiet, and outside my window, the city glowed faintly under the night. I thought about how pale he had looked that day. I thought about the way he’d stood there earlier, watching me, his gaze unreadable, as though something else entirely was moving behind it. I set the phone down on the counter, but my eyes kept drifting back to it, as if expecting another message that wouldn’t come. The three words lingered in my head, looping softly, pulling threads of curiosity and concern tighter inside me. And though I told myself not to overthink it, I already knew I would. 

***

The moment I pressed send, a quiet dread settled over me.

         “Maybe I am.”
The words glowed on the screen, small and harmless, but they felt heavier than I’d intended, like I had accidentally revealed too much. The three little dots appeared almost immediately, pulsing in the corner of the chat window, proof that he was still there... still thinking, still deciding how to respond. But they vanished without a reply. I stared at the screen for a long while, as if sheer willpower could make him type again. I set the phone face down on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch, exhaling slowly. My apartment was dim, just the soft spill of the streetlight through the blinds painting thin golden stripes across the living room. The silence was thick, the kind that doesn’t soothe, it presses in, amplifying every stray thought you try to ignore. Maybe I was running from something. Not from him exactly, but from the way he made me feel like I was standing at the edge of something dangerous and beautiful at the same time. Like he made me remember a story I had lost without getting to a happy ending and was being brought back like a sharp needle inside a cut that couldn’t be healed. It gave me pain, but somehow I felt like that was also my hope of getting back something I lost. 

I replayed the conversation from earlier in my head, the clipped edges of his voice, the way his eyes had sharpened when he spoke. He hadn’t meant to wound me, I knew that now. But the part that unsettled me wasn’t the words themselves. It was how much they mattered coming from him.

When I sent him that short, loaded message, I didn’t expect him to answer, it took him a few minutes but suddenly I received a notification from him.

      "Do you want to talk about it?"

I stared at the screen, feeling the weight of the question. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a while before I finally typed, "Not right now."

His reply came almost immediately.
      "That's okay. But I want you to know that if you need someone to talk to, I'm here… I can listen."

Something in my chest tightened. It wasn’t the words alone, but the sincerity threaded through them quiet, patient, without pressure. I wasn’t used to him offering softness like this, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to answer. 

I typed, erased, typed again. Finally, I just sent: "Thank you, Jaebeom."

It felt insufficient, but it was all I had.

We didn’t say anything else after that. The conversation ended there, but my mind didn’t. I kept replaying his message, the way it felt both like an open door and a quiet reassurance. And I wondered if, on the other side of the city, he was lying in bed doing the same. Thinking about my two small words and what I hadn’t said in between them. 

I stared at the screen long after our conversation had gone quiet, the glow of it fading against the dark of my room. Thank you, Jaebeom. Simple words, but they didn’t even come close to what I really wanted to say. They were a shield. A way to end it before I said too much. Because the truth was, that lane we were walking down if we could even call it walking... felt too dangerous to keep going. It was the kind of path you take knowing you might not find your way back. And yet, every step toward him felt instinctive, like my body recognized something before my mind could catch up. I wanted to get closer. I wanted to know him in the way you know someone’s breathing in the dark, without having to see them. I wanted to hear the small, unguarded pieces of him that he didn’t give to anyone else. But wanting and doing were never the same thing.

Because if I let myself get too close, I knew where it could lead. I could hurt him... maybe not in the same way I hurt Aaron, but hurt him all the same. And I couldn’t stand the thought of watching that look in his eyes shift into something colder, more distant, because of me.

So I told myself to keep my distance. For his sake. For mine.

But when I finally put my phone down and closed my eyes, all I could think about was that last message he sent me. The softness in it. The quiet offer. And somewhere, deep down, I knew I wasn’t going to stop thinking about it anytime soon.