rustle | exo: just say yes (2/3)

Sunyoung runs into some trouble halfway through the taping. In one of her promotional guest appearances in an idol sportsfest, she spikes the ball to the other side of the court and nails the win for her team. It's a close call, 25-24 in their favor, and it's a well-deserved win. They were trailing Victoria's team by 6 points before the big turn-around, a nice drop volley to the front that was 50% luck and 50% good timing. It's the best way to win a match, and the most fulfilling way as well. The cheers of the crowd are deafening. Her teammates are waiting for her to land back on the court. But then she slips, loses balance when she lands on the heels of her feet. Her first instinct is to cushion her fall with the heel of her palm, but time gets the better of her and sneaks up on her, making her plummet to the ground faster than she can react. So she curls up on the floor and bites on her bottom lip too hard in an effort to keep herself from crying out loud.

It makes the headlines of the entertainment section of broadsheets all over South Korea until three days after the incident happened. It makes Kyungsoo's head spin when Sunyoung's manager calls him the same day, saying, "I know we signed a contract but I have a very big favor to ask from you."

Fast forward a week later and Sunyoung's back on her feet, but with the help of crutches. There's no hint of pain her features, though, when she shows up on set. If she'd showed up during casting period, she'd be a believable victim of a bad sports injury, one who's trying to see the light in what has just happened to her. There's still the same smile on her lips – the Sunyoung smile, not the one of her character's. The same smile that graced her lips when Jongdae, too in character, took her hand while the camera was rolling. Her most spontaneous smile.

"I'm sorry," she whispers when she approaches the cast and crew now, head hung low. Kyungsoo tilts his head a little, searching for her gaze, and catches it when she looks up at him through her bangs. "I should've been more careful. We're in the middle of taping and whatever happens to me will affect the story–"

"Shit happens," Kyungsoo says. He rests a hand on her shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. He can feel Sunyoung's sharp intake of breath through the sudden rise of her shoulders, in the thrumming pulse in her collarbones. "We'll figure something out."

Her lips quiver. Kyungsoo gulps hard and wears his best smile. He gives her shoulder another squeeze before dropping his hand to the side. "We'll keep you in the film," he assures her, then turns on his heel. Then he leans back in his seat, tattered script in one hand and his phone – Baekhyun's number flashing on screen – in the other.

It isn't until thirty minutes after, until Baekhyun steps into his personal space and insists that they work with their arms pressed together in a tiny couch that Kyungsoo gets an idea for a workaround. "The restructuring won't be on the plot but on the character," he explains, then scribbles Sungyoung's character's name on the other side of the script. "After a bus accident with preschoolers on board, she ends up with this injury. Problem #1, solved." He crosses it off his check list; Baekhyun snatches the paper from him and draws a star beside the squiggly line. "Nobody dies but since she helped all the kids get out before saving herself, her legs will be out of commission for a while. Hence the wheelchair. Sunyoung–" He looks over his shoulder, trying to catch her attention, and smiles a little when he meets her gaze. "Don't worry about the wheelchair. We've figured something out."

"I can limp, boss. No worries!" she calls out.

"Nah, it's fine," Jongdae offers, then waves at the two from a distance. His hair is a mess; his face, even more. There are more pimples on his cheeks than before. They've been staying up for shoots later than the usual, after all. Still, Kyungsoo sort of wants to reach out and smooth his thumbs over Jongdae's skin, try to wipe off those scars of all those long nights away. "Take the wheelchair. There will be less strain on your back and your legs. And you want to get better faster, right?" He ruffles Sunyoung's hair, and Sunyoung makes this tiny mewling sound at the back of her throat. "Seriously, between the two of us, aren't you supposed to be the one with medical experience or something?"

Sunyoung looks up at Jongdae with a frown. Kyungsoo grips his fountain pen in his hand and scribbles 'understanding each other on a different level, knowing each other's needs' on the paper. He underlines 'on a different level' twice, and Baekhyun laughs at him. "Seriously, Soo. Seriously."

"Notes," is the only thing Kyungsoo says in defense. He drops his gaze back to the paper and finds a tiny note in the corner that says 'Jongdae smiles at her the way he used to smile when he was still young'. He tears that part off, crumples it until it's reduced to a speck of paper. He stuffs it in his back pocket, then, along with the small smile that Jongdae offers him when he looks up from where he's been working in new things in the script. Making things work. Making Sunyoung and Jongdae work.

He draws tiny hearts from Sunyoung's name to Jongdae's on the other side of the paper. It looks more like an ugly scribble than anything else.

It isn't until the following week that they finalize the new script, new twists to the plot and all. Kyungsoo takes it as an opportunity to work on the fillers and go back to review the footages they've already taken to see if they're missing on certain shots taken from specific angles. Sehun gets a new segment in the script where he takes Sunyoung through 'Junho-hyung's' history in Junho's room while Junho was having one of his consultation hours with Joonmyun. He shows her photos, a scrapbook of Junho's trip to France that was sponsored by the school, that one time when Junho was elected as a delegate to a student congress in Barcelona–

"Cut! Camera A, I said half-body, not a wide angle shot. Take the shot from the torso and up," he says. He fixes the position of the dolly, then talks to the second cameraman, asks him to go for a high-angle shot, close crop. "Pan from left to right slowly– Okay, that's right–" Kyungsoo leans closer, nips on his index finger a little as he holds his breath. "Now stop, then shift the focus to the picture they're reviewing. Deep depth of field. Blur the foreground. We're not touching this in post."

He hears a series of footsteps from behind. He doesn't look over his shoulder yet, until he gets a good ten seconds of the camera focused on the picture. By now, he can close his eyes and still see Jongdae's sixteen-year-old face at the back of his eyelids. "And... cut! We'll do shot 46 after the break. Fifteen minutes. Take a piss and take a donut. There's food outside."

There's the collective sound of people cheering. On the other side of the set, Baekhyun flashes two thumbs at him and mouths, 'I've got the golden script ready!' Kyungsoo answers with a smile.

Kyungsoo resurfaces from the buffet area with a tray of food and coffee in hand. He'd gotten four cups, just to be sure. If previous experience is anything to go by then finishing two cups each during a heated discussion in fifteen minutes is possible for him and Baekhyun. Easy as pie. They can even go for two and a half, drinking coffee like water or breathing it in like air. Their best record back in university is five minutes per cup. It was finals season then, and they had to stay awake for 48 straight hours because it's hard to regain your editing momentum after losing it to a bad case of coughs and colds for a week. Kyungsoo's hands wouldn't stop shaking even after they'd passed the final mastered video. Baekhyun had the worst palpitations after that. They never did it again.

So Baekhyun invites Jongdae and Sunyoung to their tiny session. Kyungsoo tries to get a hold of Sehun, but he's probably disappeared for a quick gaming session with Joonmyun. Minseok's slumped in a corner, taking a nap. He came from an eight-hour shoot before this; it's a miracle he was up and about earlier for his scenes. Baekhyun arranges the cups on the table as if he's decorating it. Kyungsoo lays the plate of donuts down in the middle then nudges Baekhyun in his side.

"The one on top's the strawberry-filled one. You still like that, right?" he asks.

"Oh. Well." Baekhyun scratches the slope of his neck. "I eat everything so–"

"If you don't like it, I'll eat it."

Baekhyun chuckles. "I'll take it," he says, then reaches for it with a paper towel. "You got the biggest one, right?"

Kyungsoo blows at his bangs. Baekhyun's grinning at him, pink gums peeking. He still has those canines. He's never outgrown them. "Yeah, that's the biggest," he says. Baekhyun nods in appreciation, then gives him the honey-glazed donut. "Director perks."

"So that's why we were left with the tiny munchkins," comes a familiar voice from behind. The sound of tires screeching has become a staple now; Kyungsoo wishes it didn't have to be the case. Still, he turns around and offers Sunyoung a small smile. When he looks up, his eyes are drawn to Jongdae's gaze. "You saved some for us, boss? Unless you and Baekhyunnie are gonna finish everything."

"Nah, he can't eat more than one donut to save his life," Baekhyun mumbles. He exchanges high-fives with Jongdae and pinches Sunyoung in the arm. He sticks his tongue out at her, too. "Pizza, however, is an entirely different thing."

"Oh yeah?" Jongdae locks the wheels of Sunyoung's chair, then settles on the seat beside Kyungsoo's. He folds one leg under his weight and sways from side to side. "Why have we never had pizza for catering, then?"

"Because it's our responsibility as the production team–" Kyungsoo swats Baekhyun's hand away when he sees him reaching for another donut. Sunyoung laughs a little and makes a show of enjoying the donut in front of Baekhyun. "To keep you healthy by feeding you good food. So we can make you stay on location until midnight without feeling bad about it."

Jongdae rolls his eyes and leans in, hovering for a moment, but soon he's pulling away, the tiny upward curl on the corners of his smoothened into a thin, thin line.

Baekhyun takes them through the tweaked script after the first sip of his coffee. He still has Kyungsoo's notes at the back of the original script from when they're had a brainstorming session a week ago, has sticky notes with comments scribbled on it. From where Kyungsoo is, he can make out a couple of symbols and exclamation points. 'HELPING EACH OTHER VERY IMPORTANT DON'T FORGET!!!,' one of the notes says. It's the only one written on a pink Post-it.

"So as Kyungsoo mentioned last week, the major change will be in Sunyoung's character. So we're changing the way we... 'attack' the story," Baekhyun explains, using air quotes for emphasis. "Not necessarily the plot, but the way the characters handle the situation. This is interesting because Sunyoung's character comes off as this really nice girl who's very... chill and chatty and happy 100% of the time–"

"Very engaging, too," Kyungsoo adds. He draws a circle on the part in the script where Sunyoung first appears. There's a description of her hand gestures there. Sunyoung portrayed that scene well. "So one of the major changes after the accident your character gets involved in," he begins, turning to face Sunyoung. "Is the lack of enthusiasm in doing things. Less of the stutter in the speech and more of the long pauses. If you can, remove the lilt in your voice when you deliver her lines." He catches his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger. He pinches it, then, as he searches for more words – Sunyoung's character hasn't fallen from grace; she's just going through another tough phase in her life because she can handle it. She can help herself. And it's time for her to allow other people to help her, as well.

"Junho, being the perpetually curious person that he is, catches that and starts observing you more," he continues. He shifts in his seat, now facing Jongdae. "And maybe part of your subconscious recognizes this as something that once happened to you after the accident your parents got into. Before you and Junsu became close and inseparable. And because you don't want Sunyoung to suffer the same fate, you try to help her. But before that–"

Baekhyun chuckles and rests a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder. "You've been reading over my shoulder, haven't you?" he whispers in Kyungsoo's ear, lips brushing just lightly along the its shell. Kyungsoo gives his head a quick yet tiny shake. Baekyung hums, then, clears his throat, and finishes what Kyungsoo was saying earlier. "You have to help yourself, first. Finally take some of the meds and stop relapsing to that summer night."

Jongdae raises both eyebrows and leans back. He nods, slow and deliberate, before leaning in again and moving even closer to the table. "'That's really nice. I like the 'help me help you' thing going on in the new script. It makes the movie more meaningful. Hits too hard and too close to home, though, but–"

The corners of Baekhyun's lips tug up, wild and violent. Kyungsoo can feel the shift of Baekhyun's muscles against his nape, can feel small puffs of hot air Baekhyun blows into Kyungsoo's neck when he breathes out. He can feel the pull on his cheeks, as well, the thin veil of warmth settling on his skin and wrapping around him like a quilt. And he can see the slow-forming smile on Jongdae's lips, the way he parts them then presses them together then parts his lips again like he's still trying to decide between just saying 'yes, I like it, let's go with it' and the magic word for 'there's just one thing'. The answer is there, dancing on the jut of his bottom lip as he catches his it between his teeth. He just has to cough it out or relax the corners of his mouth, unlock his jaw, catch his breath.

"But?" Kyungsoo asks, then, choking on his own breath. He breathes in deep, keeps all the air in his lungs trapped right there where his chest feels the fullest. He can feel his pulse throbbing behind his ears, in his temples, on the pads of his thumbs.

Jongdae holds Kyungsoo's gaze through the slits of his bangs. "But this is a film, not real life, so who the hell cares," Jongdae whispers. Then he grins, the corners of his lips curling even more. It reaches the corners of his eyes and makes them crinkle. It looks a bit strained, though. "I'm pretty damn sure it will be great."

Kyungsoo lets out a loud exhale and lets his shoulders fall forward. "It will be," he replies. He crackles his knuckles and nods, promising, "It will be best film you've ever been part of."

The alarm he's set on his phone goes off. The shrill sound fills his ears, makes him shake and shiver. He keeps his eyes open, though, not breaking eye contact with Jongdae as Jongdae lets his lips fall open to reveal and even brighter smile. There's a voice at the back of his head, a young boy telling him, 'Hey, hey! Don't close your eyes, kid– Look out!' It sounds familiar. It could be him hearing himself talking. Or maybe his brother, but then Seungsoo's voice has never been that shrill. And he may forget names, but voices and faces never escape him. So he doesn't look away even as he reaches for his phone deep in his pocket, even as he pulls it out and swipes to the left to turn off the alarm. He keeps his eyes on Jongdae, trying to form a clearer image in his mind – of the boy calling him and telling him to save himself, run, quick, an image to match this bright voice that's been haunting him for months. He keeps his eyes on Jongdae long enough to see him press his lips together again and nod before looking away.

He sees nothing but the image of Jongdae's smile at the back of his eye lids. When he drops his gaze to his coffee, he sees the ghost of Jongdae's face in the swirl of the black liquid staring straight at him.

ö

They nail three scenes of the revised script before midnight. They're the easier ones, mostly transition scenes since they need ambient daylight for the 'key scenes' where Sunyoung and Jongdae's relationship is developed. Joonmyun slips out of his lab coat but keeps the glasses on, saying that he can actually see better when he's wearing them. Sehun teases him about it, bumps his hip into Joonmyun's and sticks out his tongue at the elder when Joonmyun groans at him. "One of hyung's 'fans' actually snapped a picture of him during the break. He had his glasses on and they… thought it was cute," Sehun reveals. He worries his bottom lip for a moment, then continues, "That's why #GlassesMyunIsJjang trended earlier. This afternoon. 5:14 p.m.."

"Nobody's asking for the time," Kyungsoo comments. He reaches over to grab his bag, then pinches Sehun in his side somewhere along the way. "I'm not surprised that you remembered, though."

"Yeah. He's a darling." Baekhyun drawls the last word and rolls his eyes in accord. He steps to his side, narrowly eluding the jab Sehun throws his way, but ends up tripping on Joonmyun's outstretched leg. "Whoa, what? I tease maknae and I get shit for it. I praise him and you trip me–"

"Half the time, I can't tell when you're teasing someone and actually expressing admiration for them," Jongdae says. He slips between Baekhyun and Kyungsoo, then slides his arms around their shoulders. He gives Kyungsoo's arm a light squeeze. "But you know, maknae is the sweetest especially when he's talking to–"

"I'm quitting this production! Resigning, right now!" Sehun goes straight for the pile of bags near Joonmyun's feet and mumbles an apology when he hits Joonmyun's leg in his quest for his things. Joonmyun only hums and ruffles Sehun's hair in response. "Then I'll make #BurnBaekhyun trend and it will go down in history as the best and most memorable hashtag ever!"

"You mean #BestBaekhyun, right?" Baekhyun calls out after Sehun as Sehun disappears around the corner. Sehun yells one last 'fuck you' at him before leaving the set.

Kyungsoo looks around him and watches the production team turn off the studio lights, unplug the cords. A few months ago, he was part of that team, one of those people cleaning up after the cast on top of his directorial work. His cinematographer and screenplay writer would be the ones making sure that the talents hadn't left anything in the dressing rooms. His head camera man would be the one packing the leftovers from catering and distributing them to the crew. They'd finish taping at midnight but end up going home at two in the morning. Call time the following day was usually at six in the morning for talents because grind was at eight. That meant the crew should be there two hours before to make sure that the set was already set for the shoot. All the talents had to do was to review their lines, practice their dialogues. Try to outdo their best take the day before and bring out the best in the character assigned to them. Bring their character to life. It wasn't easy, yes, but at least they got to focus on just one thing whereas the rest of the crew had to wear multiple hats.

At one point, Kyungsoo felt as if he was already balding. So he took the hat off. Wore his hair slicked back, instead. Fast forward months after and he can actually give the talents a pat on the back now for doing a great job instead of spending so much time packing up the heavy lights.

"We'll go ahead!" Joonmyun and Minseok call out, waving over their shoulder. Kyungsoo flashes them two thumbs up and sends them off with a nod. Minseok stops short in his tracks, then adds, "Don't forget your promise, boss!"

"You promised them something?" Baekhyun asks when he slips beside Kyungsoo. He yawns, just a tiny dollop of sound escaping his lips. "Man, I could use some coffee–"

Kyungsoo turns to his side and leans back to get a better look him. Baekhyun is wearing his glasses today, and even with the thick glasses to blur the stress a little Kyungsoo can make out Baekhyun's eye bags. They're darker now, more pronounced, and there are wrinkles under Baekhyun's eyes. There's a peculiar glint in them, though, and in the way his lips curl up before he leans his head on Kyungsoo's shoulder. "Hey. Don't fall asleep while you're standing," Kyungsoo whispers, nudging Baekhyun in his side. "I'm not carrying you to your car–"

"Shuttle service is gonna take me home tonight," Baekhyun replies. He yawns again, long and loud, and almost hits Kyungsoo in his side. "I can have you dropped off at your place. The terminal's in Hongdae, after all. No biggie."

"It's okay. I can take a cab." Kyungsoo sniffles. He can feel the surge of pressure in his lungs, crawling up his throat and exploding in his mouth until his ears feel as if they'll pop anytime soon. So he swallows the lump of air until he can feel his tongue again, until he can hear Baekhyun's shallow breathing. "They need it more than I do," he continues, nodding in the direction of the crew.

"Yeah, but they have a van of their own. And… until now?" Baekhyun frowns. He shakes his head and heaves a sigh. "Whatever. You're my responsibility. I hired you. Take the damned van."

Kyungsoo snorts. "That sounds strange coming from you." He gives into the urge to yawn this time and throws his head back, but ends up hitting Baekhyun square on the face. Baekhyun yelps and slaps Kyungsoo's chest in retaliation. In his defense, if Baekhyun hadn't shifted in his position then he wouldn't have gotten hurt. He turns around, nonetheless, cupping one of Baekhyun's cheeks and rubbing the tip of Baekhyun's nose with his thumb. "And you live farther than I do. Less stops, more time saved."

Baekhyun laughs a little. He doesn't say anything, just kind of stares at Kyungsoo like he's still trying to gather his thoughts, gather pieces of himself he'd left behind. Then he tilts his head, leaning into the touch. His skin is warm against Kyungsoo's palm. It tickles.

"I can't believe you're actually expressing concern," Baekhyun whispers. He scoffs. The jerk of his muscles makes Kyungsoo shiver. And Baekhyun seems to feel that – the stimulus, the traitorous cold seeping from the pads of Kyungsoo's fingers, the goosepimples brushing against Baekhyun's skin. "So that move away from action really meant something, huh?"

It's been weeks since Baekhyun last broached the topic, weeks since Baekhyun last told him that, 'Hey, I heard you dropped action because you already have a heart now. Is that true?' And it makes sense – the only time they get to talk is in between takes and during breaks, in the little windows of time where they're both doing everything and nothing. Baekhyun continuously reinvents the script in his head, tries to find a better way to communicate words through actions. And Kyungsoo keeps assessing assessing his actions, tries to see if there's anything that can be misinterpreted like fanatics reading too much into a gesture as simple as a deep intake of breath.

"Stop reading entertainment news. They're trash," he replies after a while.

"I haven't read anything in a while," Baekhyun answers. He presses his lips together and smiles, too tight at the corners. "Just you."

Kyungsoo gulps hard. Something flickers in Baekhyun's eyes, but it's gone as soon as Baekhyun blinks, as soon as he drops his gaze to the swell of Kyungsoo's top lip. It's one of those blink-and-you'll-miss-it things that even now, even with all the years of friendship stretched between them, Kyungsoo still doesn't have memorized. But that's what distance does to you sometimes. That's what 5 years of treading slightly similar but ultimately different paths does to friends – it takes away puzzle pieces from the picture until you're left with the important ones. The bare bones of the relationship. Just clues as to what started it all, what brought these two people together and why they're sticking around.

Jongdae squeezes his arm, hard enough to let something loose and allow a violent breath of life to fill his lungs but gentle enough to coax him to lean into it soon after. Kyungsoo's body gives a tiny jerk. Jongdae leans in, then, and whispers, "I brought my car." He clears his throat, then continues, "You can ride with me, if you want."

A corner of Baekhyun's mouth curves up. "You should go with him. He's a good driver. Plays it safe all the time." He chews on his bottom lip a little, then adds, "He lives everywhere."

Kyungsoo leans back a little to look at Jongdae in the eye, but only succeeds in leaning against Jongdae's chest. "Don't you live in Apgeu?"

"He has a flat everywhere," Baekhyun mumbles. He locks his arms behind his back and stretches. "One in each city. Because he gets bored of the view easily. He's like Simba – everything that the sun touches is a city where he can buy a tiny place."

"I'm plotting world domination," Jongdae replies, laughing. "It's convenient, though. Helps me change things up a bit from time to time." He looks to his side again and wiggles his eyebrows at Kyungsoo. "So boss, are you coming with me or not?"

Kyungsoo blinks a few times. Cost-cutting, he reminds himself. He needs to do that if he's planning to produce a big movie in the next two years. He needs to start now. And he'd like to see more of the look Baekhyun is fashioning at the moment – eyebrows knit in concentration, a corner of his lips curved up. Eyes focused on him and nothing, no one else, like if he so much as blinks he'll miss something important. That he'll miss Kyungsoo if he so much as squints from yawning or taking a deep breath.

"Are you sure it's okay with you?" Kyungsoo asks, He digs his nails into his palms. "We came from a twelve-hour shoot. You should be the one taking the van service, actually."

"Nah, I'm good. Driving helps me relax. Gets my mind off of things." Jongdae stretches his arms overhead and hums. "By the way, Baek, I can drop you off at the highway if you want. Smack in the middle. Then you can find your way to your house from there."

Baekhyun snorts. "You love me too much to do that."

Jongdae cocks an eyebrow at him. "Oh, do I?"

It's almost half past the hour now. The air is thick – with silence, with white noise, with the sound of Kyungsoo's heartbeat loud in his chest, his palms, the back of his ears. It's suffocating. It can be the mysteries of the hospital at work or the sudden lack of warmth, or the late hour. They've been filming for hours and the emotions have been controlled far too much in the scenes they've taped today. Joonmyun has mastered not laughing at Sehun's tiny missteps or Minseok stumbling on difficult words. Sunyoung has been smiling the whole day, wincing in pain only when she thinks nobody is looking. Baekhyun has been keeping a straight face more often now. He's more discerning, less reactive. And at the stroke of the clock, they're allowed a window of time to let loose and just let go. Let the emotions consume them. Feel the fatigue set off explosions at the tips of their fingers and let them succumb to the allure of the soft carpet laid down on the floor.

And Jongdae's shifting his attention to him, the same eyebrow still raised. The upward tug on his lips is softer now, less strained. More of an invitation than a direct order to look at me, look at me and no one else. "So, are you coming? I'm serious, I can drop you off anywhere. The highway's reserved for Baekhyun, though. Also, the area under bridges."

Kyungsoo looks at Baekhyun, then turns his gaze to Jongdae again. From a corner of his eye, he sees Baekhyun rolling his eyes. Or maybe he's just imagining things. it happens sometimes – the frame of his glasses gets in the way of seeing things right. So he blinks again in the hope that whatever thin veil Baekhyun had put up around him has already disappeared, blown away by the gushing winds in summer.

"You treat me like trash," Baekhyun mumbles. "Why did I give you a job again?"

"Because I'm the best method actor you've ever met," Jongdae answers. He turns to Baekhyun to stick out his tongue, but reaches out to rest a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder. "Only if you want to, by the way. I mean, I have a car so might as well drive people around, right? It's too big for just one person."

"You drive a truck?"

Jongdae laughs a little. "I'll take that as a 'yes'," he replies, then hoists his bag up. "And I drive an SUV, not a truck. It's smaller than the average SUV, to be honest," he continues, finishing with a wink.

So much for thinking on his way home, Kyungsoo muses. He gives Baekhyun a wave, then turns on his heel to follow Jongdae to the parking lot.

Midnights in Gyeonggi-do are just a bit colder than those in Seoul. They're not in the upper part of Gyeonggi-do, just south of the border, but maybe it's the trees making the atmosphere cooler than it should be. And they've just come from a supposedly haunted hospital – that, alone, makes the Gonjiam-eup part of Gyeonggi-do much colder than central Seoul. He ties his bangs with a band and presses down on it, wearing his beanie, then zips up his jacket. It's one of those strange summer days again, where it's deathly cold and wet at night and dry in the morning.

Kyungsoo laughs to himself. It's almost like being back in Donghae-si, where he can look out into the horizon and tell himself that he's so close to Japan that he might as well be there already
, tasting its waters. But then he looks over his shoulder remembers that he's still in Seoul. Then the sea that was once a friend turns into an enemy, a bringer of distance, pushing him further away from that country over there with its forceful waves.

A tiny beep, then he hears the sound of something being opened. "You can dump your things at the back, if you want," Jongdae mentions. He ducks inside his car but sticks out his head again as he says, "You alright, boss? Left something at the set?"

Kyungsoo shakes his head. He leaves his ghosts behind at the end of every shooting day in the same way that he removes his cape after every action movie shoot. It's deliberate. He doesn't have a choice. It's one of those things you're forced to do that you're actually comfortable with. He likes drawing a line between work and life, between film and reality.

He takes a deep breath, then shakes his head. "I'm all set." He gets inside the car, then, and drops his bag on the floor. He makes sure to wear his seatbelt, double-checks if it's been fastened properly. "Thank you for offering, by the way."

"No biggie," Jongdae says, then starts the engine. He reaches forward for something, then hands Kyungsoo an iPod. "Feel free to choose. I don't have any of those crappy songs in Baekhyun's playlist. I mean the 90's drama hits." He hits the hazard button, then looks over his shoulder. "So you don't have to worry about bad music."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. Baekhyun has questionable taste in music, but it's not entirely atrocious. Kyungsoo likes a handful of boyband songs; he just won't admit it, not in the near future.

They hit the road close to a quarter until 1 a.m.. Jongdae is a careful driver, always looking to his left and right before turning a right, a left, before crossing an intersection. He's pretty 'chill', too, even when someone cuts and speeds past him, horns blaring in the streets and all. He shrugs them off and keeps his eyes on the room, glancing at Kyungsoo only when they stop at traffic sights. At one point, Jongdae turns up the volume to drown out the crazy honking outside. It's midnight and yet people are still in a rush to go to places, get things done, run across the street even before the pedestrian light flashes green. Jongdae mumbles, then, says something under his breath about lack of discipline and regard for the rules. "And this is why a lot of accidents happen at this hour," Jongdae says, humming. He steps on the breaks at the same time that someone waltzes to the other side of the intersection. "Wow. Look, kid: if you can't handle your alcohol then drop the bottle–"

She places the bottle down on the ground, with only a couple more inches until she reaches the other side. Jongdae groans. "Oh God," he whispers, then rests his forehead on his clasped hands on the wheel. He thunks his head too hard on his knuckles. "Oh God."

Britney Spears starts singing on the stereo. She's taking pride in being stronger than yesterday. Kyungsoo laughs a little and turns up the volume. When Jongdae surfaces, he squints his eyes at Kyungsoo and sticks out his tongue. The girl has already reached the other side of the road. Jongdae gets out of his car to remove the bottle from the road and lets out a long exhale before clutching the steering wheel again.

The trip is silent. More like they talk about things, but Jongdae doesn't go beyond the 'yes and no's of his questions. "So, how's directing a horror movie for you so far? Enjoying it?" "Yeah. It's fun. Different from action." "How about the crew? They… aren't the ones you work with on a regular basis, right?" "Yeah. But they're great. Very efficient, actually. They might be the best team I've worked so far." "And you've worked with a lot of teams." "Yeah." He could've easily asked what makes them efficient, what makes them the best, but he doesn't. If ever wants to, he only hovers when they reach a red light then sinks right back in his seat and drums his fingers on the wheel. It's almost comforting, the way Kyungsoo doesn't have to explain himself and just talk when needed. It isn't a leisure you have when you're a director. When you're sitting on that chair, calling the shots and making some big decisions, you have to explain all the reasons behind your decision. You have to make everyone understand. You have to convince them that what you're doing is for the greater good of everyone and the production, not just for your sanity. Half the time, it's thrilling. The feeling of being completely in control, the surge of power through his veins – it feels amazing. The dry, sore throat that comes after it is the worst part.

Jongdae hits the brakes at a red light. Ninety seconds 'til they can get a move on. "I see you like Sheppard," Jongdae says, voice so soft he could've been whispering. But Kyungsoo's not tired enough to be imagining things. And Jongdae's voice soars high above the opening notes of 'This Electric Feeling'. Months into filming alongside Jongdae and Kyungsoo already knows the secrets of Jongdae's voice, its lilts, its wicked highs and lows. He knows that the breathy words mean Jongdae's really trying to get into character. 'Just a little more. Five minutes? Wait–' He knows that the low humming means Jongdae is thinking about the whole scene and not just his lines. Jongdae's that kind of actor – he immerses himself in his character and turns this guy, this Kim Junho, into someone real. And he makes people feel that. In turn, he raises the bar and pushes people to work harder. To be a better version of themselves.

Jongdae blinks several times and chuckles. From where Kyungsoo is, he can see how long Jongdae's eyelashes are. The light from the lamp post catches on its tips, casts lines of light on his cheeks. The bright lights from the car on the other side of the road set Jongdae aglow.

Kyungsoo squints. It's one in the morning. He's just come from a long shoot, and he's tired. Give it a rest, he tells himself. Stop thinking. And stop making it obvious that you are. He meets Jongdae's eyes, then, shifting his gaze a little from where he's been tracing the gentle curve of Jongdae's eyelashes. "Hmm?"

"You have this… really cute thinking face," Jongdae answers. He scrunches his face a little, and his nose gives a funny twitch. The corners of his mouth are tight, twisted in a frown, but there's a hint of a smile in the way his cheeks tug up. And his eyes are crinkling at the corners. "Like this, except… Ah, I don't know how to describe it but you know–"

Kyungsoo snorts. "I don't stare at myself in the mirror."

"Oh? Well." Jongdae twist his mouth, bottom lip jutting out. The headlights on the other side of the road are no longer at full brightness. He can see Jongdae better now, no longer washed out, and Jongdae's lips are a soft shade of red. Or pink. It's 1 a.m.. "You have a cute thinking face. That's it. I won't attempt to describe it anymore." Jongdae purses his lips, hollowing out his cheeks a little. He looks like a lost kid, one whose lollipop has been snatched by a kid–

Or maybe a kid who's trying to shield another kid from harm. A kid who's warding bullies off, saying, 'Hey, that's rude. You know what? He's not weird. You guys are!' A kid who's running a hand down his spine and fluffing his hair with the other as he says, 'Sorry I couldn't be here sooner. I–' A hitch of the breath, and then, 'Do you… want some ice cream?'

"Where do you live?" Kyungsoo asks. Jongdae's eyes widen, but only for a split-second. Soon, he's tilting his head and smiling a little and he's narrowing his eyes like he's looking for something. A small window of opportunity, a hint, a clue, a sign that the red light will turn to green soon – Kyungsoo can't tell. All he knows is that he can see himself in Jongdae's eyes right now and there, that's his thinking face.

It isn't cute, he wants to say. It's weird and it looks like someone from the past, a persona he's long grown out of. A character in a film about a kid who's always been deemed as 'the weird one' by his playmates because he didn't want to play rough like everyone else. He won best actor in a brooding role. It's not something he can brag about. It's something he wants to change.

"Well, it depends on my mood? Or my taping schedule." Jongdae looks up at the counter and Kyungsoo glances at it from the corner of his eye. 20 seconds. "What do you mean 'where do I live'?"

"Your hometown. Or a province, if you weren't raised in the city." Kyungsoo rubs the tip of his nose. Jongdae's lips quiver a bit, then he lets out a light laugh. It fades out into steady humming. "Jeolla-do? Chungcheong-do?"

"Gangwon-do," Jongdae answers. The tight knot of his lips ease into a small smile. "In a little town south of Gangneung-si. It's a cozy place."

The light turns green. Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. Jongdae turns to face front and grips the shift stick tight. The slant and slight parting of his lips says, come closer, I have something to say. The way his eyes fix on the road says, but if you could wait a while, that would be great.

"Donghae-si's a pretty nice place," Jongdae says. He hums for a while, then adds, "I kinda miss it."

"You... once lived in Donghae-si," Kyungsoo whispers.

"Mhmm. I spent my childhood there. Until before middle school, if I remember correctly?" Jongdae slows down at an intersection. Kyungsoo breathes out, heavy and noisy through his nose. A tickling sensation wraps around the walls of his throat, and he coughs a little. "Did a lot of fishing and beach volleyball and seashell picking–"

"Visiting a playground from time to time? The one near the border to Gangneung-si." He sniffles. "Biggest playground in the province. Not counting the beaches, of course."

Jongdae risks a glance at him before turning left at a corner. "Yeah. I remember something like that," he mentions. He clears his throat and asks, "You… know Donghae-si?"

Kyungsoo presses his lips thinly together. He doesn't just know Donghae-si. He was raised there – raised in the cool sandy beach, raised by the waves. When he couldn't play in the playground with the other kids, he'd run to the beach and claim the whole place as his. It was his own sand pit, a really big one. So it was a blessing in disguise – by being cast away by those cool kids in the park, he found home in the sands of the beach. By being pushed away, he found himself leaning against someone whose smile was so infectious that Kyungsoo could never ever resist smiling back.

"It's my hometown," Kyungsoo answers. He takes a deep breath and leans back. "But my family has already moved to Seoul. I'm the only one who lives in Gyeonggi-do. The metro's too… busy for me."

Jongdae snorts. "I feel you, man. Seoul's pretty crazy sometimes. It's nice to have some peace and quiet from time to time. Someplace to think." He activates the turn signal and maneuvers to the left. "But it's been years since I've last been to Donghae-si. Ten? Or more?" He loosens his grip on the steering wheel and lets it slide in the small fist of his hands. "Not since my father got reassigned to Seoul–"

Not since Kyungsoo was ten and Jongdae was eleven. Or not since that other kid, the only one who played with Kyungsoo, was eleven. It was once fine day in summer then, and Kyungsoo was wearing this new cap his friend gave him the day before. His friend promised to be there, meet up for the last time before 'going somewhere far away because appa said so'. Seoul wasn't far. It was only eight, nine hours away by bus. If Kyungsoo wanted to, he could come over and stay for a couple of hours, then return to Donghae-si without his mother freaking out. If his friend wanted to keep in touch and keep Kyungsoo as a friend, he'd have given Kyungsoo his name. But they were kids, and as a kid the reason, 'But how can I be your superhero if you know my name? That's not how it works. It takes away the mys– Mystery? Yeah, the mystery!' made sense. He should've known better, tried to ask for a name to put to the face. Tried to repay his hero with something more than a stuttered 'thank you' and a share of his ice cream.

Kyungsoo swallows hard. He can see the playground in Anyang-si now, the steel railing running along the slide, the orange bars, the sturdy structure. The place he'd spent most of his weekends in when his family moved to Gyeonggi-do – not quite Seoul but close enough – in the hope that he'd run into a friend from the past. A friend from the beach, from two decades ago.

"I can get off here. My place is just five minutes away," he says, shifting in his seat. He gathers his things in a rush, and a pack of gum falls out from the front pocket of his backpack. He feels around for it, any sign of a canister of mints, but to no avail – he can't see in the dark. His glasses are slipping off the bridge of his nose and shit, he should've had the foresight to zip up his bag or use an oil blotter because his face gets realy oily after a long day–

"Lemme help," Jongdae says, then pulls over just beside the playground. Kyungsoo looks up, then, ready to tell Jondgae off because it's just a stupid pack of gum, who cares, but soon Jongdae's tracing the curve of Kyungsoo's face with his fingers, studying his face through half-lidded eyes. The corners of Jongdae's lips tug up a little, but when aren't they curled up just the slightest? Right now, his lips are doing that thing again where Jongdae's halfway out the door and halfway inside the room, half of his mouth twisted in a way that makes him look as if he wants to lean closer – yes, closer. In a way that makes Jongdae look as if he's finally found what he's looking for, that undetectable speck of sand scratching the surface of his glasses and keeping him from seeing clearly. The sand in his eyes being carried away by the wind.

Jongdae gives Kyungsoo's chin a light pinch, then pulls him closer. He lifts his free hand, then, and grazes his nail along the bridge of Kyungsoo's nose before settling on the arc of his glasses. Kyungsoo scrunches his nose at the friction, but that doesn't deter Jongdae from pressing on. His gaze falls further south, resting on the giving bow of Kyungsoo's mouth. Kyungsoo can feel his lips quivering, a tiny tremble that tickles his teeth. A sensation that makes his throat go dry and then clench and then constrict. He curls his fingers one by one, balling his hands into fists. And Jongdae leans even closer, applying pressure on the arc. He's pushing it up, up, up, and he's closing the distance between them with every forward motion. Jongdae's less than a touch, a breath away, and he's close, too close that Kyungsoo can see the cracks on Jongdae's lips, the bleeding between the dry skin, the curl of his mouth at the corners and the way Jongdae darts out his tongue to lick the back of his lips.

"Better?" Jongdae asks. His finger is steady on Kyungsoo's glasses. But it's cold. His lips pull up into an easy smile.

Kyungsoo presses his lips together. He can see the tiny blemishes on Jongdae's cheeks, reminders of late nights at work and eary morning coffee sessions. And that they still need to get up early for tomorrow's session because they need the ambient light. He can see the dark circles under Jongdae's eyes and they way Jongdae's eyes still sparkle. He can see clearly now. He can't breathe.

"Better," Kyungsoo whispers. He takes a deep breath. Something shifts on his lap. The press of Jongdae's palm on his thigh is warm. It's a nice contrast to the prickling cold on the pads of his fingers. "Better than before."

Jongdae takes a deep breath, then pulls away. "Good," he says, breathy, then leans back in his seat. The doors are still locked, and he hasn't pressed the hazard button yet. The engine is still running. "Where exactly is your house? Shouldn't be too far from here, yeah?"

"I'm serious. I can walk."

"And I'm serious, too," Jongdae counters. "I just want to make sure you get home safely. Wouldn't want our cute little director to get lost, mhmm?"

There are a number of ways that Kyungsoo can answer that – 'Are you my mom?' or 'I'm not a kid' or 'Why do you care?' – but it's already past midnight. They're both tired. They're too relenting. So Kyungsoo nods, saying, "Straight ahead," and doesn't forget to mumble once Jongdae gets the gas started again, "Thanks."

Jongdae shrugs. He's looking back at the street and his headlights are turned up high. The smile on his lips, too wild and toothy, is still even brighter. The most radiant, most flattering light that sets Jongdae aglow but washes him out soon after. So Kyungsoo drops his gaze to his feet to avoid the onset of the glare and to ease his eyes into the habit of marveling at something bright.

He looks up at Jongdae, but only through the slits of his bangs this time. Still, he squints when Jongdae risks a glance at him and addresses him with a soft upward curl of the lip. This isn't 'straight ahead', Kyungsoo muses as Jongdae speeds up a little. This is heading heart-first into the unknown with no plans, no map to guide them, only a probability of crashing with no chance of survival.

He catches Jongdae looking and bites the inside of his cheek. Jongdae shifts to the first gear and steps on the gas. The tires screech against the streets. The heavy thrumming in Kyungsoo's chest soars above the engine noise and Jongdae's steady humming beside him.

ö

it's him, he types in Chanyeol's message box. i'm dead sure it's him. it can't be anyone else.

Kyungsoo slips his phone under his pillow and lies flat on his back. It's half past two in the morning and it's been a good thirty minutes since Jongdae had dropped him off at his house. The first thing Jongdae said was, "A yellow house. Really. Yellow?" The second, "It suits you." A slow nod of the head, then a cursory glance. "It really suits you," he'd repeated, like he'd just come to terms that his assessment of the house was good and acceptable. Like he's known Kyungsoo for a while now, even before Kyungsoo held in his hands a camera that wasn't the same shape and size as that of his trusty VX 2100 because 'no one uses tape anymore, Kyungsoo.' It was such an off-hand comment that Kyungsoo didn't know the best way to reply to it, if at all. So he shrugged. Got off the car and bid Jongdae a good night. Told him, "Drop me a message when you get home," even if the better half of his senses kept telling him not to push through with it. Jongdae is his talent. He's the director, the big boss. It's his responsibility to make sure that his staff and cast get home safely after a long day, twelve grueling hours of taping with only short breaks in between for coffee. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be sure that Jongdae makes it to his flat wherever in one piece.

His phone gives a beep, and then another. Kyungsoo blinks several times, trying to refocus his vision. He feels around for his phone, then, and grips it tight as he unlocks the device. Jongdae's name flashes in the notifications panel – just Jongdae's and no one else's. The first message says, home!! glad you're home and safe, boss c: The second message, i'm staying in apgeu today btw. want to grab breakfast tomorrow before going to the location?

Kyungsoo blows at his bangs. He only succeeds at blowing cool breath into his nose. It tickles. where?, he then types in reply, and hits send even before he can think twice. He's just about to set his phone down on his chest when it beeps one more time.

anywhere you want c: sinsa? there are better coffee places in itaewon, though. if you're willing to travel that far at an early hour, at least.

Tempting, but there's work to be done. He's supposed to get up early for work, not to enjoy coffee and play catch up with an old friend who might not even be the same old friend Kyungsoo thinks he is. So Kyungsoo types, cork for turtle might be your type. they have sweet coffee there.

you really remember my coffee order, huh? c:

Kyungsoo snorts. it's convoluted. i just know you like sweet things.

of course, you would, Jongdae replies. Kyungsoo yawns, stretching his arms over his head, and his phone beeps another time. This one shakes him awake, startles him out of lethargy despite the warm wrap of his comforters around him. and you're classic americano. it suits you, it really does. c:

'And you'd know because?' Kyungsoo wants to ask, but he doesn't. Instead, he types up a message then lays his phone down on his bedside table. He turns off the light, and darkness begins to crawl from the tips of his toes then up, begins to seep through his skin like tiny packets of coldness set to explode inside him. But he's warm. The comforters are keeping him warm and alive and he hasn't lost the feeling in his hands just yet. So he pulls his blanket up to his top lip, then his nose, and then his eyes, up, up, up until he can covers his face with pristine sheets.

His phone beeps again on the table. He pokes one eye open. The urge to reach for his phone to check what Jongdae has just said is strong, but he files that to the back of his mind. If he wants to get up early for work, then he needs to sleep now. He doesn't need distractions, cannot afford distractions. What he needs is a good night's rest and something to look forward to in the morning. He shuts his eyes, then, so tight that nothing but darkness seeps through the corners. This is the only line of defense he has left. All the walls he's built around himself – his friends have broken those down, chipped at them until his walls cracked and crumbled with no hope of ever being restored.

He splays his fingers on the cushion and takes a deep breath. The gaping lack of warmth between his fingers, slotting itself in the webs of Kyungsoo's hands, sends shivers down his spine. The image of Jongdae's smile – bright and blinding – at the back of his eyelids makes him shake all over. Jongdae's soft, steady humming, a recording at the back of his mind, is what lulls him to sleep.

ö

Sinsadong is quiet and calm at eight in the morning. Most of the restaurants aren't open yet, but the coffee shops in the area already are. Kyungsoo had passed A Twosome Place earlier and spotted two familiar faces – possibly stars in a drama who'd just come from an overnight shoot. A few meters away, he bumped into an old crew member exiting Starbucks. "You look better," was the only thing the man told him. Kyungsoo laughed a little, tried to swallow the last few strands of laughter spilling from his lips. At the end of their quick chat, he told the man, "We're releasing a new film next year, in spring. It will be great."

"You mean scary, right?" the man asked. Half of his mouth was still twisted in laughter. The other half looked unsettled, undecided. Kyungsoo wanted to reach over and push the tight corner of his lips up. "I heard you've moved on from action and shifted to horror. Hoping to challenge yourself?"

"I just want to try something new," was all Kyungsoo said in reply. Then he gave the man a curt nod and bid him goodbye. It was a little past eight in the morning then; he promised Jongdae that he'd be there are 8 a.m. sharp.

"Sorry, had to look for good parking!" Jongdae says now as he emerges from the doors of Cork for Turtle. His hair is a mess, sticking out in several different directions, but there's a semblance of order to it. Style. "I can't believe it, almost every spot here is taken," he goes on to say and slips out of his jacket. He holds it by the shoulders and folds it in a square twice the size of his hands. Kyungsoo reaches out and smoothens the creases on the fold. "It's just, what, 8 a.m.? You'd think that people won't be up yet at this time, but no–"

"Times have changed. 8 a.m.'s pretty late for a Gangnam breakfast appointment," Kyungsoo says. It's true – Cork for Turtle has moved their opening time to 7 a.m. to accommodate diners. They then pushed back the closing time to 11 p.m.. It's close to impossible to get a cab so easily at that late an hour in Gangnam, after all. If they were still living in the early 2000's, maybe, but this isn't the same old Gangnam that Kyungsoo first marveled at. Gangnam has changed, transformed along with the people inhabiting it. Or maybe it's the people that Gangnam has changed. "The wasabi latte is great."

"So I've heard," Jongdae says, then reaches for the menu. His fingers, cool and stiff, ghost over Kyungsoo's warm skin. Kyungsoo shivers a little, but masks it with a yawn that he stifles by biting the back of his hand. "Have you ever tried it?"

"A couple of years ago. When I was still in university." What he means is, it was one of Baekhyun's favorite drinks back when they were still young. The only time he's ever tasted it is from Baekhyun's lips. Strawberry was still Baekhyun's signature flavor, though. Smoke and strawberry and sins. "It tastes weird at first but you'll get the hang of it."

Jongdae squints, leaning in for a while, then leans back. "Nah, I think I'll pass," he says, and orders a vanilla latte, instead.

Jongdae isn't the most talkative company in the morning. Between breaks during shoots, he always has a lot of stories to tell – about the shoots he's attended before, funny things that have happened to him in the past, the rationale behind his outfit today – but between seven and eleven in the morning, he only ever responds with small smiles and a curt nod. His sentences are short, concise, and his voice is void of its usual lilts, the gradual rise in tone and the abrupt drops before it peaks again. And the corners of his mouth are tied in a tight knot, like he's been given orders to not smile and bare his teeth.

He is generous with touches, though. He asks Kyungsoo about the scenes they're shooting today and reaches for Kyungsoo's hands over the table. He rubs small circles on the sides of Kyungsoo's fingers but doesn't quite hold onto him, just stays there with their fingers touching, grazing each other. And he stares a while longer, like there's something he can't discern in the short time that their gazes meet so he leans closer to get a better look at Kyungsoo. But then affection comes to Jongdae just as naturally as breathing does to man – he can ruffle Sunyoung's hair and pinch her cheeks and whisper in her ear and it won't mean a thing. He can hold Kyungsoo's hands and pull away at the first sign of servers drawing closer to their table, then reach out to hold them longer and it won't mean anything at all.

"Better drink your coffee while it's hot," Kyungsoo mumbles, nodding in the direction of Jongdae's coffee cup. It was served ten minutes ago and Jongdae hasn't even touched it; it will get cold in a while. They've been here in the coffee shop for thirty minutes now and their call time is at ten; they don't have much time. "A latte doesn't taste as good when it's lukewarm."

"Oh, so you've tried other drinks? Mixes and sweet blends?" Jongdae reaches for the vanilla power and adds a dash to his drink. He takes some cinnamon powder, too, and sprinkles it on top. "For a minute, you had me thinking you were one of those purist coffee drinkers who only stick to their 'perfect black coffee'."

The last time anyone ever joked about Kyungsoo's affinity for coffee was in university. Chanyeol accidentally picked up the other group's order instead of theirs and was left with a plain latte, a cappuccino, and a caramel macchiato. Chanyeol claimed dibs on the cappuccino and Baekhyun snatched the macchiato at the first opportunity. And Kyungsoo remembers staring down at the tiny heart latte art on the foam. It was the best latte he's ever tasted, and the most experimental one at that. It took him a good two tablespoons of cinnamon to rid the coffee of the creamy taste and reduce it to the bare bones of the coffee flavor – something dark, rich. Something that tastes a lot like his usual Americano and not the too-milky latte.

"So your latte's good now?" Baekhyun had asked. His lips were red from being worried too much, from being bitten too hard to keep himself from cackling.

"You have to see for yourself," Kyungsoo replied. He looked around for an audience and leaned closer, close enough that Baekhyun could dart of his tongue and taste hints of coffee on Kyungsoo's lips. Close enough that all Baekhyun had to do was to inch closer and their mouths would meet in an inelegant dance, a crashing of lips against lips. Baekhyun's tongue, hot and heavy and on a quest for something licking every inch of coffee off of Kyungsoo's mouth so Kyungsoo could taste like Baekhyun again.

Kyungsoo cracks his neck now and laughs a little. It's a conscious decision to stick to black coffee and nothing else. It's almost like a habit now – he can walk to his kitchen and load up the coffee in his coffee machine to make himself a nice cup of basic black without giving it much thought. So he replies, "I am a purist coffee drinker," then takes a sip of his Americano. "And I'm your boss, so again: drink your coffee now so we can leave in ten minutes."

Jongdae holds his gaze for a moment, leans in, then leans back against his seat. "Baekhyun was right: you do have a way with convincing people that your way is the only way to do things," he says, then sinks his lips in his drink. He takes a sip, and another, and another, until the liquid scalds his tongue and he yelps in response. "Fuck."

"Careful," it slips from Kyungsoo's lips. He drops his eyes to the two sunny side ups beaming at him from his place and scores a line along the middle of one egg. "I said eat fast, not burn your tongue."

"It's the same thing," Jongdae groans. He hasn't stopped drinking his coffee yet, though, and his speech is clearer now. His syllables are no longer muffled by sleep and fatigue. And there's the same glint in the way his crinkles his eyes again, like the coffee has suddenly breathed life into him. "But wow, this tastes great."

It does, Kyungsoo muses when he risks a glance at Jongdae. There's a question written on the curve of Jongdae's lips, in the way he juts out his bottom lip and sucks in his cheeks. A blink and then it's gone, replaced instead by the food that Jongdae's stuffing in his mouth.

Kyungsoo turns his attention to the eggs, and carefully slices one sunny side up like he would a pizza. He eats his food in silence and watches as Jongdae does the same. Under the table, Jongdae hooks his ankle on Kyungsoo's own. The slide of their ankles, bones brushing against each other's skin, tickles.

ö

The goal is to accomplish a key scene and two small ones that will serve as the 'glue' to the next key scene before lunch time. They're right on track: the set has already been made up by the time they arrive at the location. Kyungsoo still remembers the exposure setting of the cameras from last night's shoot. Baekhyun is running Sehun through his lines and making sure that he enunciates each syllable properly, "No contractions, no skips. Open your goddamned mouth, Jesus–" Joonmyun walks over to help out because he's in the same scene, anyway. Minseok only watches from the sidelines and pitches his comments every so often.

"Emphasis on the second line," Minseok calls out. He moves closer, looking over Joonmyun's shoulder to take a peek at the script. "This part, where you go, 'I feel like I haven't been the brother I was supposed to be to him, like I've let him down,' try to add a pause between the first part of the line and the second. Like you don't want to admit to yourself that you're a let down." He walks behind Sehun, then, and pulls his shoulders back. Pounds the middle with his fist, too, for good measure, as Sehun clears his throat. "Don't be afraid to open your mouth. You'll be able to deliver lines better when you actually pronounce the words."

"And not just croak them out, yeah," Baekhyun says in agreement. He gestures for Sunyoung and Jongdae to come closer, to walk over to where he is. Kyungsoo cranes his neck and meets Baekhyun's gaze in the midst of the flurry of people. Baekhyun addresses him with a wink. To the lead actors, Baekhyun says, "This is the turning point of the movie for your relationship. I don't like putting pressure on people but if there's one scene you have to perfect, it's this one. You can half-ass everything else."

"He's kidding, of course," Kyungsoo says, slapping Baekhyun on the ass. Baekhyun grins, but only until Kyungsoo hits the back of his head. "But he's right: this is one of the most important parts of the movie. If we have to spend two hours just perfecting it then I don't give a fuck – I'm not calling it a good take until you two nail the exact emotion that the scene is trying to convey."

Sunyoung nods, slow and deliberate. Beside her, Jongdae gulps hard, Adam's apple bobbing in accord. Their shoulders rise – sharp, coordinated, like they already have each other's bodies memorized. Jongdae leans a little in his side and reaches over to ruffle her hair, but then Sunyoung has already wheeled herself to her side to narrowly miss Jongdae's attack. She sneers at him, sticks her tongue out at him and gives his arm a light poke. It looks a lot like one of the scenes in the film where Jongdae's character tries to get Sunyoung's character's attention but then Sunyoung's too deep in what she's doing to even give him a passing glance. So Jongdae nudged her in her side with his elbow then pretended to not know a thing when Sunyoung looked around, searching for the culprit.

It almost looks like a scene that can happen in real life – two actors who have slipped out of their personas and slipped into their respective skins again. This is Jongdae and Sunyoun, not Junho and Minyoung. They're not acting; this is real life.

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. Maybe they can get the scene in one take. Maybe they could. They have to.

Sunyoung drops her script to the closest table and cracks her knuckles. She casts a glance at Jongdae, then at Kyungsoo before nodding. "Let's do this!"

The scene starts with Sunyoung entering Jongdae's room. It's smack in the middle of the afternoon, which mean it's Jongdae's 'play time,' one of those few times when he doesn't have to worry about his therapies and being asked all these questions that ultimately won't serve any purpose but just give doctors data on whatever. Jongdae plays with the hem of his shirt in lieu of playing with a Lego set, as dictated by the script, and Sunyoung cranes her neck a little to check what Jongdae's doing. Baekhyun lets out a soft grunt and Sunyoung takes it as her cue to 'enter', to step inside Jongdae's tiny world that he's recently been so apprehensive with letting people explore. In the previous scene, he only let Sehun and Sunyoung inside – Sehun, because he's his brother, and Sunyoung because she never prods when Jongdae decides to reply to her questions with silence. He shunned Minseok away even before Minseok could come within twelve inches of him. He gave Joonmyun a pointed stare when Joonmyun tried to weasel his way inside the room.

"Can I come in?" Sunyoung asks, nonetheless, voice soft and tentative. Jongdae looks up, then twists his fist in his shirt. A corner of Kyungsoo's mouth tugs up – that one isn't even scripted. It's so natural a response that it almost looks as if Jongdae and Sunyoung aren't acting, like they're just portraying an extension of life.

Kyungsoo gulps hard. He balls his hands into fists. He leans closer, studying every shift of their muscles and the slightest quirk of their mouths. This can go two ways: one gets carried away and the other gets swept into the mess, or they carry out the scene in peace. No NGs. A perfect take on the first try. Their best practice session yet.

Kyungsoo cracks his neck a little. They've just started practicing. It's too early to tell. So he bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from muttering a comment, to keep himself in check.

Jongdae hasn't let go of his shirt yet, but his knuckles aren't as white anymore. He hums. It's enough to urge Sunyoung to go on, to step inside his private space and wheel herself over to where he is. "I got you a snack," she says, then transfers an imaginary tray from her hands to his lap. Right now, it's the script she's abandoned earlier. The corners are littered with dog ears. The edges are filled with doodles in different colors of ink. "Thought you'd be hungry after... After that session with Kim-sonsaengnim."

Jongdae snorts. He shifts a little in his seat, then turns to face Sunyoung. He looks up at her, then, through his bangs that have fallen over his eyes. Kyungsoo wants to reach over, to brush Jongdae's hair away so Jongdae can see clearer and look in the right direction–

– And that's not uncertainty, Kyungsoo decides. The listless eyes, the way Jongdae sucks in his bottom lip and chews on it without a care in the world or without even thinking that he'd regret it later – that isn't Junho's uncertainty. Junho uses the lip twitch, the subtle quirk of his mouth and the light scrunch of his nose. He uses his hands, his arms. His eyes are mostly void of emotions and all his feelings are expressed through the shift of his facial muscles. And this character, the one Jongdae is portraying at the moment, this isn't the Kim Junho who's been bullied and has been driven out of his mind after his parents suffered a most painful death and led to live a life here in the facility. This isn't Junho.

This is Jongdae, Kim Jongdae, the same man who'd helped push back his glasses last night, the same guy who'd driven him home to make sure that he got to his place safely. This is Kim Jongdae, that kid back in Donghae-si who'd spread out his arms and shield the weirdo kid from the being assaulted by bullies, the same kid who'd bite his bottom lip to keep it from trembling because there's only one of him and four of those other kids. The same kid who'd wrap his arms around Kyungsoo's hunched figure because, 'They're too strong, little kid. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you when I swore I would–'

"I'm okay," Jongdae mutters. It takes a while before he stops fiddling with the hem of his shirt. There's a shadow of Junho in there, somewhere. Then he pats the empty seat beside him, coaxing Sunyoung to move closer. "We can... split."

Sunyoung's eyes widen. Kyungsoo looks to his side and meets Baekhyun's gaze – or at least that's the intent, but then Baekhyun's eyes are still on the two. And he's smiling. He's grinning from ear to ear like he's watching the script he'd written come to life exactly how he wants it to. But there's something missing, Kyungsoo muses as he turns his attention back to the two. There's still something in Sunyoung that's missing even when she takes a sharp breath and leaves her lips hanging parted as she watches Jongdae reach for her hand.

"Closer," Jongdae says through gritted teeth. It isn't in the script, but it works somehow. Sunyoung moves forward, shortening the distance between them. Their knees almost bump. Jongdae shivers a little, his head doing a funny twitch before he fixes Sunyoung with a gaze. "There. Better."

"Better?" Sunyoung asks, blinking.

The tight corners of Jongdae's mouth ease into a smile. "Better," Kyungsoo finds himself whispering as Jongdae delivers his line, as Jongdae says the same thing. Jongdae covers Sunyoung's small hand, the one that's no longer keeping the 'tray' on Jongdae's lap balanced, and gives it a light squeeze. "Much better."

Sunyoung opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again. Her lips are dry and chapped and she's gritting her teeth. And her chest is heaving. It isn't cold where they are, not in this part of the set, and neither is it too warm, but sweat is trickling down the curve of her face. And Jongdae's eyes are drawn to that lone bead of sweat trailing her cheeks, leaving a faint mark of a line brighter than the rest of Sunyoung's face. Her make-up isn't supposed to be uneven.

Sunyoung rests her gaze on Jongdae's lips. She lifts her hand a little, then slots her fingers between Jongdae's own. Something flickers in Jongdae's eyes – shock, surprise, a flash of vulnerability? – but it's gone as soon as he looks down at the link of their hands. Sunyoung's fingers look so slender, so short when pressed against Jongdae's own. If Jongdae curled his fingers around Sunyoung's hand then he could keep her skin warm, keep her protected. Keep her from taking pebbles to the back of her hand because, 'You're weird, weird, weird! Who'd even want to play with you, huh? Hey, kid, speak up! Are you mute or something? Too afraid, scared out of your wits?'

Kyungsoo shakes his head. He keeps his eyes wide open long enough to catch a misplaced emotion in Sunyoung's eyes. The furrow of her eyebrows says, 'Well, hello there, Kim Jongdae.' The twist of her mouth asks, 'Why are you doing this? This– This isn't part of the script–'

"Cut," Kyungsoo mutters. From a corner of his eye, he sees Baekhyun shift his gaze and cock an eyebrow at him. "Cut," he repeats, much louder now. Jongdae's fingers jerk a little. Sunyoung looks up, then looks over her shoulder. "Cut! There's– You have to–" Kyungsoo stands from his seat to walk over to where Jongdae and Sunyoung are. He grips them both by the wrists and shakes them to loosen the link of their fingers. Jongdae drops his hand to his thigh first; the knot in Kyungsoo's chest loosens second.

"What... What's wrong?" Sunyoung asks. She glances at her lifted palm, then looks to her side. "Boss? Did we mess up the scene? I mean, this is just practice and we can still fix it this early–"

Don't look at him that way, he wants to tell Sunyoung. Don't look at him like he's the only one who matters because that's not in the script. Don't look at him like you've finally realized -– really realized, like taken a nasty bump to your head or a violent jerk of the shoulders – that within this guy's soul is someone who understands you. That this person who people are saying is weird and crazy and doesn't understand how emotions work is the same person who can tell, just by looking at you, that you're down. That for once, you need someone to help you up instead of being the one doing it for people.

Jongdae is good at mirroring expressions, making them feel special. He's good at bouncing emotions back at people. So Kyungsoo wants to tell Sunyoung to not fall for Jongdae's charms because it's not right. This is not part of the script.

"I need you to show a bit of confusion in your actions. In your eyes. A bt of–" Jongdae twists his hand a little. The pads of his fingers are cool against Kyungsoo's warm skin. A traitorous cold slithers down his spine then back up, gripping him by his nape and grabbing a fistful of his hair. He shivers. Jongdae's palm is warm and his pulse is strong against Kyungsoo's skin. He bites the inside of his cheek in an effort to steady his voice. "–apprehension. You're conflicted because this is the first time Jongdae–"

"Junho," Jongdae corrects. He clears his throat. "That was Junho, not me."

"I wish I could agree but what I saw back there wasn't your character. The facial expressions, the small emotional cues – those weren't Junho. That was you," Kyungsoo answers. He presses his lips together and meets Jongdae's gaze, heavy and focused. Jongdae isn't even blinking, just staring at him like he wants to say something but can't find the words just yet. Or maybe he's looking for the right window of opportunity, the perfect time to strike and the perfect timing to strike the hardest. "Again, you have to put some distance between your character and yourself. If you want to relay a message–"

"–then there should be a clear delineation between the character and actor," Sunyoung continues. She breathes out, chest heaving. "Because if you get too emotional, you'll end up a sobbing mess on set."

"Right. And that's not what we're here for. We're here to communicate an idea, a thought. A message." Kyungsoo shifts his gaze between the two, then cranes his neck in search of the rest of the cast. Joonmyun and Minseok are not too far away. Sehun's pushing himself off the wall and nodding at him as if saying, 'I'm listening, boss, go on.' "So you'll need to balance your emotions. And remember, do not use personal experience as the seed of emotion. Use other people's experiences, that's fine, but if you use your own then you'll fall prey to getting too emotional during takes."

Jongdae tilts his head to the side. "How emotional is 'too emotional'?"

Kyungsoo pins him with a gaze. His glasses slide down the bridge of his nose, blurring Jongdae's features a little. Then too many images flash right before his eyes – that night back in Jongdae's car, just the two of them with nothing but songs from the radio and their heavy breathing to break the white noise. Jongdae reaching up to cup one of Kyungsoo's cheeks and helping him push his glasses up his nose again. Jongdae pulling away with an easy smile, yet his gaze not waning from where it's fixed on the giving bow of Kyungsoo's mouth. Jongdae inching closer just a bit and pinching the tip of Kyungsoo's nose. Kyungsoo flinching a little. Shivering. Shaking.

Not in the script: Jongdae rubbing slow circles on Kyungsoo's thigh the whole time. Even hours after, when he'd gotten up this morning, he could still feel the burn of Jongdae's touch. And this – Jongdae leaving marks on him with the patterns he's tracing on Kyungsoo's skin – he'll feel the dull ache of it until he has to leave the set after packing up. He'll feel it in the morning and maybe even until after breakfast. And if Jongdae ever pulls out his phone again at an obscene hour and says, 'Hey, I'm staying in Apgeu today. Wanna have breakfast together before going to the set?' the sting of Jongdae's touch will stay with him until the next time Jongdae touches him. And Jongdae loves touching, leaving traces of himself on people.

"When you can't control the cracking of your voice or the trembling of your fingers," Kyungsoo begins. He takes a step back, but inches closer to Sunyoung. "When you forget your lines so badly that your ad libs sound nothing like what you're supposed to say. When you forget that you're acting and not living a real life, and when your touches stop being calculated – that's 'too emotional'. That's losing control. That is not responsible acting."

Jongdae breathes in through his nose. He makes a weird, heaving sound as he exhales, but he swallows the rest of the sound when he yawns. He clasps a hand over his mouth. His eyes disappear into slits and the corners of his mouth tug up. Later, he'll be smiling as if nothing happened, as if he hadn't screwed up. He'll be grinning at Kyungsoo and saying, 'Chill, this is just practice. We can do a couple more runs until we get it right.' And he'll be turning to Sunyoung with his bright eyes and even brighter smile and extending his hand in Sunyoung's direction, as if in invitation.

Jongdae hums and nods in acknowledgement. Tightens his grip on Kyungsoo's wrist, too, before pulling away all the way. "Got it. I'll do better next time," he promises, then lets their linked hands fall to his side. He turns to face Sunyoung and asks, "One more? You good with another round?"

Sunyoung looks up. She nods in agreement and flashes Kyungsoo a big smile. "We're ready whenever you are, boss."

Kyungsoo clears his throat. He runs his thumb along his wrist. Jongdae's touch still burns. "Control," he says through gritted teeth, and cocks his eyebrow at Jongdae. "Don't draw emotions from your own experiences. Anything–"

"–in excess is bad, yes," Baekhyun finishes. He rests a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder. It's warmer than it should be, but maybe that's because the rest of Kyungsoo's body feels cold. It isn't even raining outside, and the red heads here on set are turned on. "Remember: don't lose control. I love the ad libs but sometimes it takes longer to get to the main point when you spew lines at random. Try to find a nice balance between spontaneous and scripted."

Kyungsoo looks to his side. Baekhyun only casts him a glance, but a corner of his lips tugs up. "Can we ask for a demo, then?" comes Jongdae's voice, faint at first then slowly gaining cadence. "So that Sunyoung and I will have a guide as to how the scene should look. Maybe you and boss, Baek?"

Baekhyun snorts. "I'm a shitty actor. I'd rather not watch hear myself delivering lines. The last time that happened–"

–was in university. Kyungsoo can still remember that day. They were in their scriptwriting class and their professor instructed them to read the script out loud as part of the critiquing session. 'If it sounds weird when you say it then it probably shouldn't be there,' their professor said, then made Baekhyun repeat the lines. Only when Baekhyun solicited Kyungsoo's help to 'act opposite him' was he able to communicate the emotions clearly. Only then, and Kyungsoo will always say that it's a one-time thing, did he discover that he could act. Or at least do voice acting. 'There's something about the way you–' Their professor trailed off, grinning as he looked at them. Then he turned back to the class and said, 'That's the benchmark. Outclass them and you get plus five points in tomorrow's exam.'

"Boss and Jongdae-oppa, then," Sunyoung suggests. Kyungsoo shifts his gaze to her and tilts his head a little. "I have an idea of how to nail the scene but I want to see how you do it. Just– If we can do the scene in one take later, then that's great. And I want to make that happen."

Jongdae looks up and meets Kyungsoo's gaze. Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, traps the air right there in his chest until a corner of Jongdae's mouth curls up. "If that's okay with you, at least," Jongdae says. His voice has dropped to a whisper. It's almost as if he's humming. Breathing. "But it would be great if you showed us how to do it. I'll be able to learn a lot from the demo, too."

This is a trap, Kyungsoo tells himself. He's caught in a sticky web of responsibility and emotions and it's hard to get out. How can he when he can still feel the sting of Jongade's touch on his skin? How can he free himself from the web of Jongdae's charm when he can still feel the way Jongdae had curled his fingers around his wrist, or the way Jongdae reached for the tips of his fingers so he could slip his hand in Kyungsoo's own over breakfast? How can he when Jongdae's looking at him right now, really looking at him with lips slightly parted and a smile tugging the corners up just so, like he's saying, 'Are you seriously considering saying no? You know you can't. Come on, boss. Come on, Kyungsoo–'

"I don't mind," Kyungsoo mutters. He tilts his head to the side just a little. To Jongdae, he says, "Take your place over there. We're doing the entire scene until the part when Sunyoung has to pull away." He gulps hard. "Watch closely."

Kyungsoo clears his throat and locks his arms in front of him. "Ready?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow at Jongdae. Jongdae nods in response and assumes his starting place a few feet away. "Okay. Action!"

It's been years since he's last shown an actor how to handle a scene. He's used to giving instructions, telling people how it has to be done, but using his whole body to communicate the script isn't something he does on the regular. His script supervisor back when he was still doing action was an ex-stuntman, so he didn't have to run his actors through stunts and 'reaction routines'. In fact, he hadn't been forced to act since university, for film class. And even then, he'd only been a minor character. One of those extras who'd react to the main action scene happening on the streets. He's always worked behind the camera, behind the lens. He doesn't mind doing most of the production grunt work; he can't bear the heat of six studio lights shining down on him, anyway. Illuminating his imperfections and putting all of them on display. He doesn't like the scrutiny. So it isn't weird that he can feel his throat drying up or his chest constricting as he takes one step forward to where Jongdae is, knowing that there are people watching him. He can see Sunyoung leaning closer, eyebrows knit, from a corner of his eye. He can see Baekhyun's gaze, careful and assessing, as he inches even closer. And he can feel the string connecting him to Jongdae shaking everytime Jongdae drums his fingers on his thigh.

He knocks on the imaginary door thrice – because that's one of Minyoung's signals to Junho that it's her and not one of the doctors. It gives Junho time to ease himself into the concept of sharing the same space with a person, the only person who understands what he's going through at the moment. "Can I come in?" he asks after a while. Jongdae looks up, turns his head a little, then nods. He walks over to where Jongdae is, steps slow and calculated. Sunyoung has made 'her Minyoung' a slow-walker, unlike most nurses who are always in a rush to get from one place to another. He has to capture that even if this is just a demo.

"Thought you could use something to eat," he begins. He tilts his head to the side and searches for Jongdae's eyes. His features are pulled down and he looks tired. It's perfect. He's supposed to have come from an early session with Minseok and Kyungsoo – no, Minyoung – is disturbing his quiet time. He's supposed to look like he wants to make Kyungsoo leave. "After that session with Kim-sonsaengnim."

Jongdae snorts, laughs a little. It's carried away by the wind, the thick blanket of white noise just as soon as it leaves his lips. "Thanks," he mumbles, then turns around. There's a small tremble in his fingers, in the way he pats the space beside him and meets Kyungsoo's gaze. This isn't that part of the script yet. Jongdae's missing his 'I'm okay' line, but Kyungsoo plays along anyway. "Closer," Jongdae adds, voice barely above a whisper. Kyungsoo can hear the tremor in it, the shake, the way he chokes on the second syllable. It's a force reeling him in, trapping him on either side of him leaving him no choice but to move forward. "Come closer– There."

Kyungsoo bends his knees and occupies the empty seat beside Jongdae. He lays the imaginary tray down on his lap, then looks up at Jongdae. From where he is, Jongdae seems so much taller, bigger. Larger than his character and life. There's no sunlight setting him aglow and neither is there wind to tousle his hair in the slightest, gentlest way, but he has a presence so big contained in such a small frame that Kyungsoo wonders for a moment how he contains everything inside.

His breath hitches. He can taste acid on the roof of his mouth. Focus, he tells himself, and swallows hard. "You should eat," he says to Jongdae, then motions to unwrap something. Chips and processed food aren't allowed in Junho's diet, not at this stage. He puts the 'food' down, then, and reaches for a glass of water. "Or drink first. You haven't had anything since nine in the morning."

Jongdae's features shift a little. He cocks his eyebrows, eyes widening in something akin to surprise. A corner of his lips tugs up. "I'm okay. I'm not hungry. Not… very hungry, I mean." He reaches for the invisible tray and sets it down on his lap. "We... We can split," Jongdae says, syllables spaced out. He parts his lips, licks them, then purses them together. Kyungsoo leans back a little and looks the other way. If Baekhyun ever calls him out on being overly dramatic then he can say that this is Minyoung displaying confusion in her actions. Minyoung never second guesses her movement. Maybe her words, but never a laugh or a smile or a touch. And he has to be Minyoung right now.

"I said, come closer–" Jongdae reaches out, but doesn't stretch his arm all the way. When he drops his hand to the side, the tips of their fingers brush. That's when Jongdae leans in and slips his fingers between Kyungsoo's own. That's when Jongdae presses their palms together and pulls Kyungsoo closer. The friction of his skin against the material of the chair burns a little. He should've known better than to wear shorts to a shoot. He should've known better than to agree to demonstrate how a scene should be acted out.

But it's his job do make his actors' lives easier. It's his job to bring out the best in his cast and his crew, and to hell if he'll get marks on the underside of his thighs from being pulled from the middle of bench to one corner. If it gets the job done, then he'll do whatever it takes. Now, this is the price he has to pay – Jongdae's palm sweaty and sticky against his own, Jongdae's pulse loud and heavy against his skin. Jongdae's gaze focused, determined as he traces the dip of the bridge of Kyungsoo's nose. Jongdae's lips parting in a dull 'pop' as Kyungsoo sucks in his bottom lip and asks, "Better?"

Jongdae's chest is heaving. Kyungsoo can feel his own pulse at the back of his ears, the base of his throat. "Much better," comes Jongdae's breathless reply. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth. His upper lip is still quivering.

Kyungsoo feels around for the food and ends up with his free hand settling on Jongdae's thigh. He holds Jongdae's gaze a little longer and sees himself reflected in Jongdae's eyes – his expression looks twisted, a bad mix of confusion and frustration and something he can't quite place yet. His eyebrows are furrowed a little and he keeps parting his lips then pressing them together again. It's as if he's forgotten his line, the line Baekhyun had written, the dialogue they'd worked on. Minyoung's line where the more logical voice at the back of her head snaps her back to reality and this moment and makes her say, "You want me to break the bread for you?"

Jongdae jerks back. His eyes are wide open. He tilts his head to the side as he takes a deep breath. Kyungsoo looks down at the link of their hands, at the way Jongdae's hand swallows his own, marvels at the way the warm press of Jongdae's palm to the back of his hand sets his heart at ease somehow. His pulse slows down a little, but Jongdae's is still beating hard and fast. Like a broken record that's saying, 'Oh, there you are. There you are.'

Jongdae's fingers relax against Kyungsoo's own. Kyungsoo leans in, searching for Jongdae's eyes, and nods when Jongdae lets slip a soft 'oh' in recognition. "I'll get to it," Kyungsoo says, then, to fulfill what's in the script. After this, Jongdae will drop pieces of information about his morning, tell Sunyoung about how the session with Minseok went. And Sunyoung will feel it in every fiber in her body – this man understands her like nobody else. This man who was once so repulsive of the thought of communicating with people after being shuffled to this institution s reaching out to her and teaching her a lesson: that despite whatever life throws at you, you can always get back up. Your friends and family will be your crutches. You just have to make that conscious decision to get up and move on. Pan to the sky, fade to black. Dramatic upsound. The end.

But before that, this is what the script dictates them to do. Jongdae follows it to the very last detail:

Jongdae rubs his thumb on the back of Kyungsoo's hand before snatching the piece of bread from him; Jongdae breaks it into several smaller pieces of varying sizes. "Open up," he tells Kyungsoo then runs his thumb along the swell of Kyungsoo's bottom lip. He rests it on one corner and pulls up at it, like he means to make Kyungsoo smile. Maybe Kyungsoo should. Jongdae pulls away with a soft smile, but leans back in to catch the crumbs falling off of Kyungsoo's lips. He sucks in his thumb after that, licking at it, and says, "That was nice."

"Was it?" Jongdae asks later, after practice. Baekhyun has already excused himself to check the lighting set up, while Sunyoung has gone off with Sehun to help him with his lines. It's just him and Kyungsoo here, not quite separated from the rest of the group not close enough to the set. The light doesn't reach them, doesn't light up Jongdae's features. It doesn't make him look as if he's glowing. It does accentuate the light curl of his lips, though, the shy twist of his mouth life he wants say more.

Kyungsoo licks his lips and makes sure not to miss the corners. His stomach lurches at the same time that Jongdae wiggles his eyebrows at him. "It was good. Keep it up," he says in reply, then turns on his heel to head to the set. When he holds the camera in his hands and looks through the viewfinder to check the focus, he feels his hands shaking. And he sees Jongdae's smile – bright, blinding, disarming – through the lens, sees Jongdae looking straight at the camera–

–at him.

ö

"Okay. Talk." Chanyeol arranges the side dishes on the table, sorting them by color, then pours Kyungsoo a shot of soju. "You remembered to use your phone to call me at a normal human hour. Spill. Now."

Kyungsoo mumbles a soft 'thanks' as he takes the shot glass from Chanyeol. They finished taping earlier than expected, nailing most key scenes in one take. They spent the last two hours shooting fillers and reaction shots, while Baekhyun crossed off scenes in their shot list. They're down to the last ten scenes of the movie, the last two 'key events' in the film. It won't be too long until they reach the ending. Jongdae and Sunyoung have already established attraction for each other in that scene where Jongdae just lets Sunyoung walk inside the room because he has the sound of Sunyoung's footsteps memorized like the back of his hand. Sehun hasn't stopped thanking Sunyoung for taking care of his brother just yet, but has slowly developed a distaste for Minseok. They're doing the confrontation scene between Minseok and Sehun tomorrow. By now, it has become difficult to separate the character from the actor and vice versa, but Kyungsoo tries his best to use the characters' names when needed. It's not Minseok who's an asshole and won't take time to understand Jongdae's condition. It's Jaesuk. It's not Joonmyun who's trying to convince Minseok to listen to Jongdae. It's Dongryul. It's not Jongdae who reached up to cup Sunyoung's face then tuck her hair behind her ears, "So I can see you better." It's Junho. And it's Minyoung who's making Junho's heart beat fast. It's Minyoung.

This is a film. They're just sticking to the goddamned script. This isn't real life.

"Do I have to get you drunk just to get you to talk?" Chanyeol asks. He reaches over and gives Kyungsoo's cheek a light pinch. Kyungsoo snarls in response. "Oh, there you go. You're actually alive. You can talk."

"It's him," Kyungsoo mutters. He laughs a little. From a corner of his eye, he sees the meat on the grill sizzling so he reaches for the tongs and turns the meat over. Chanyeol somehow interprets that as a window of opportunity to feed him with a slice of yellow radish. He winces a little at the sour flavor, but soon the sweet aftertaste takes over his taste buds. Makes him shiver a little, then eases him back into a more comfortable state. "He came from Donghae-si and his life story matches that of the guy's. And he looks like him. Sort of." He rubs the tip of his nose. "I don't know if he recognizes me but–"

"But who the hell cares? You've found your hero." Chanyeol clashes his chopsticks with the tongs Kyungsoo is holding. Kyungsoo pulls away, then, and hands the tongs to Chanyeol. He's more patient with cooking meat, after all. "Granted, you haven't really been 'looking' for him but when I found you back in high school– Man, you kept talking about that guy, kept wanting to go back to Donghae-si just to find him and ask for his name." He turns the slices of meat over, then tosses some garlic cloves into the grill. The oil crackles and sizzles. It makes Kyungsoo's breath hitch. "And now you have exactly that."

"I'm still not a hundred percent sure."

"Yeah, because you're 200% sure." Chanyeol takes a few pieces of meat and drops them into Kyungsoo's bowl. "Wish I could help but I don't know this mysterious hero of yours. I just know he's messing up with your mind. Fucking up your system. How dare he, geez." He pauses for a while to add some kimchi to the grill, then looks up. He grins at Kyungsoo. "I like it."

Kyungsoo groans and rolls his eyes. "Asshole."

"Thanks, babe," Chanyeol says. Kyungsoo takes three slices from the meat bundle Chanyeol has given him and transfers them to Chanyeol's bowl. "I love you, too."

Kyungsoo looks up and finds Chanyeol adding a fresh batch of meat. There's a bit of red sauce on the pocket of his white polo. "Same, asshole," he whispers right back before gesturing at Chanyeol's top. "And make a bib out of the big table napkins. You don't want to get stuff on your shirt."

"Oh, right. I'm–" Chanyeol hands Kyungsoo the tongs and begins to work on his bib. "I should've changed into something else. Or maybe I shouldn't have answered your call and just went home straight because I just came from following up on one of my artists."

Kyungsoo adds in the remaining garlic in the plate. He catches the small smile that surfaces on Chanyeol's lips. He laughs a little. "Your favorite?"

"If you meant the one who gives me the most headache, then yes. He's the best the company has seen in years, though," Chanyeol replies. He looks up, meeting Kyungsoo's gaze for a moment, then tilts his head. "Wanna cook?"

He means, if cooking will make you feel a bit better then please order more meat. Kyungsoo nods. "Yeah. I need to cook."

"Cool. I'll order more meat. Pork, right? Or–" Chanyeol kicks him in his calves under the table. "Beef?"

Kyungsoo sets the tongs down on his plate. The last time Chanyeol asked him what he felt like cooking was when Baekhyun disappeared without a trace. In fact, that was the last time Chanyeol let him cook at all because Kyungsoo has a habit of either overcooking or undercooking meat. "You're all extremes: hot and cold, happy and sad. Man, it's just– You have no in-betweens," Baekhyun had said then. He had this half-scowl, half-smile thing going on with his mouth. It was weird and twisted. This was the compromise, Kyungsoo mused. If he couldn't find a nice in-between then Baekhyun was willing to be exactly that, but only for a short period of time. The first few months of their tryst, he called Kyungsoo 'mysterious'. After the first year, Baekhyun called Kyungsoo 'exciting'. Fast forward three years after and he was calling Kyungsoo 'all extremes'. He was beginning to run out of nice things to say. This uncertainty being a constant thing was boring the hell out of Baekhyun. And Baekhyun hated 'boring'.

"Anything you want," Kyungsoo says now, nodding in Chanyeol's direction. It's only fair – Chanyeol let him cook and eat all the beef he wanted that time until he threw up even if Chanyeol's preferred meat was pork. Chanyeol rubbed circles on his back and pulled back his hair. And Chanyeol tucked him in bed and made him swear to not to send Baekhyun that text drafted in his messages – you're a fnuckning ashole i curse the dya you where born.

"Are you sure? You're good with pork?" Chanyeol asks again. He kicks Kyungsoo under the table again and rubs the tip of his shoe against Kyungsoo's calf this time. It's supposed to be disgusting because Chanyeol's day is 70% running around town and 30% staying in the office to review manhwa proofs, but then this is Chanyeol. He's seen Chanyeol fit boxers in front of him, has gone camping with Chanyeol and even 'stood guard' over the place where Chanyeol took a dump in the forest. And Chanyeol has seen him in his lowest points in life and helped him get up. So if there's anyone who's disgusting between the two of them, it's him. It isn't Chanyeol and his silly antics. It's always been him.

"Yeah. Anything you want," Kyungsoo says. He rubs the tip of his nose. He reaches over, then, adding more kimchi to the grill and mixing them with the meat. Chanyeol likes his samgyupsal like that, twisted as it may seem. "You can't let me always have my way. That's not your job."

Chanyeol snorts. "My job is to keep you sane. I just happen to like meat, too."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. Under the table, he bumps his ankle into Chanyeol's. Chanyeol laughs a little. "Yeah, very convenient. I mean it, though – if you want pork then let's get pork. I've already–" He checks the meat – one side is already cooked. It has already taken on a nice, golden brown color. He turns over the slices. "I've already bothered you enough as it is. It's the least I could do to, you know–"

"Dude, I keep you sane because I like it," Chanyeol counters. He tosses chopped chili into the mix. Kyungsoo parts his lips to speak, but sinks right back into his seat. Extra spicy pork doesn't seem like such a bad idea, after all. And Chanyeol makes weird food work somehow. Chanyeol won't let him down. "And you're not 'bothering' me. I'm your friend; of course I want to keep you sane! Of course I want to make you happy! I keep telling you: it's not a crime to need people from time to time. To keep you company or something, help you relax or whatever. To help you." Chanyeol blows at his bangs. He squints his eyes when the sharp tips hit his eyes. He brushes them away, then, resurfacing. His gaze is sharp, but as welcoming as ever. It's like getting lost somewhere along the way and finding his way back again. It's like leaving Donghae-si to live in the busier neighborhood of Anyang-si, but still craning his neck to get a glimpse of the place he has come to call 'home'.

Kyungsoo gulps hard. His throat feels dry. His chest feels really tight and heavy. It's not easy depending on people, entrusting them with a piece of yourself and expecting that they'd take care of it. It's not easy opening up and giving up a part of you, a space in your life to make room for others. Or maybe it is for some people, but not for Kyungsoo. He's spent his entire childhood trying to be desirable, to be 'just like them'. Then he met a kindred soul who swore to protect him. But then that hero was taken away from him.

And Kyungsoo has found him again here, in the set of a horror movie too many years after. And maybe Jongdae recognizes him as that kid from years back, the same little guy whose body he's covered with his own in an effort to protect him from bullies. And Chanyeol's reaching out now, reaching for the pads of Kyungsoo's fingers.

Kyungsoo moves closer, then, meeting him halfway. "It sounds like a bother sometimes," Kyungsoo mumbles. Chanyeol scrunches his face in response. "You've got your own shit to deal with and I have mine. You... don't have to carry my crosses. We're all fighting a battle–"

"And it's not a battle that you can win alone, not all the time," Chanyeol says. "It's not a crime to ask for help, especially from people who care. You can't solve all the problems of the world alone, Soo. You need people to help you with that. You need people to help you realize a couple of things. And you need someone to tell you right now that you're crazy for even thinking that you're being a bother." He kicks at Kyungsoo's calf under the table. It hurts. It fucking stings, but maybe Kyungsoo needed that kick. And maybe he should ask for another because this has been a long time coming. Chanyeol has been telling him again and again, 'you're great and all but you're not a god, y'know?' If people didn't need other people to exist then there would be just one man on earth. More oxygen to breathe in, less noise to make Kyungsoo's ears ring. It would have been a peaceful world. Peaceful, yes, but dull. Lifeless.

Chanyeol takes a deep breath, then lets out a low exhale. "You know why we have those assistant artists in the studio? Or... why you guys have body doubles and stuntmen?"

Kyungsoo snorts. "To save time and energy?"

"No. Fuck you," Chanyeol grumbles. He tightens his hold on Kyungsoo's hands. "Because we can't always win. There are battles that we won't be able to fight because– I dunno, man, what if the battle's up in the air and you don't have wings?"

"That's–" A very good parallelism, Kyungsoo wants to say. Desperation is crippling. It feels like your hands being forcefully chopped off, or twisting your ankle when you still have four long kilometers to run. It feels like... clawing at the air and trying to fly while watching the feathers of your wings slowly come off. "That's false analogy."

"And you're a smartass." Chanyeol growls at Kyungsoo. "Why are we friends again?"

Kyungsoo shrugs. There's a hint of a smile at the corners of Chanyeol's lips, in the way his cheeks pull up. And this is why they're friends – because they've already accepted each other's quirks, because they've already memorized each other like the back of their hand. Because they've already found a way to work around those tiny faults and get each other out of a nasty slump. Because they are Kyungsoo and Chanyeol, two people who found each other's company at the right place and the right time. And because they made a conscious decision to stick and around and plough through life together, as cheesy as it may sound.

This is Chanyeol rubbing off on him – entrusting a part of himself with Kyungsoo. This is friendship, Kyungsoo muses. The shit you see in movies about the most unlikely of people being the best of friends? That's true. Still, he answers, "Beats me. You've always liked befriending people smaller than you, I guess." He meets Chanyeol's gaze and smiles a little. "It makes you feel more powerful."

"Well, I'm a titan. Except..." Chanyeol worries his bottom lip. "Except I don't eat humans. And no, I won't be condemned to Tartarus, either."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. Trust Chanyeol to jump from manhwa to mythology and then back to real life. Trust Chanyeol to know his way around and his way back to this moment, right now, where they're sitting opposite each other and tossing the new load of crushed garlic that's just been given to them. And trust Chanyeol to bring Kyungsoo along with him to the finish line without even thinking if Kyungsoo will slow him down and keep him from getting there.

"You're too nice to even think of eating humans," Kyungsoo says after a while.

Chanyeol chuckles, then pulls away. Kyungsoo can still feel the warmth of Chanyeol's touch between his fingers. It's comforting, knowing some things won't change, that some people won't leave. "And tell you what: I think you need to do something," Chanyeol replies. He sniffles. "To answer that question of yours, once and for all."

Kyungsoo cocks an eyebrow at him. "You really think I can ask him straight up, just like that?"

"Well, if you could walk up to Baekhyun and ask why the hell he wanted to get into your pants every chance he got then I don't see why you couldn't ask your hero about that thing."

"Stop saying it like that," Kyungsoo grumbles. "There is no 'thing'."

"Yeah," Chanyeol says, then hums. "Just love." Chanyeol ends with a wink, then erupts into a lovely peal of laughter. His eyes disappear into these tiny crescents. This is it, Kyungsoo muses – this was the same look that Chanyeol fashioned the day Chanyeol found him in the playground in Anyang-si. It was the same look that made him think, hey, this guy's really weird. But I like weird so why the hell not?

Later that night, as he dries his hair with a hand towel, he reaches for his phone from under his pillow. He pulls up Jongdae's contact card, then exits not too longer after. He can feel the cool air from the air conditioning freeze his hair, can feel the pads of his fingers getting cold. And he can feel it again – that weird, lurching sensation at the pit of his stomach, the sizzle of heat the rolls down his abdomen at the same time that a shiver crawls up his spine. He takes a deep breath, then, and navigates out of the Contacts application. Pulls up his messages and settles on a thread he hasn't visited in a while. so the wasabi latte IS great, is the last message in the exchange, so he continues it. Picks up from where they've left off. Weaves it into something that sounds less like a breakfast meeting before the big shoot and more having coffee with a longtime friend. It shouldn't be too hard. If they know each other from a decade or two ago, it shouldn't be too difficult to pick up the pieces of their friendship. It should be a bit easy.

any chance you'd want to try it again? he then types days after the topic has ceased to be relevant. This is the easiest way to reach Jongdae without veering off the track. Right now, it's the only way.

His phone gives off a beep, then another. you're in luck, i'm in apgeu c:, the first message says. The second, was just thinking of passing by cork tomorrow for breakfast. you in? c:

He takes a deep breath and types a quick message. yeah sure. same time? he asks, but it sounds more like a statement than anything. Like they have a specific time marker to themselves that they can call 'their' very own coffee time. Their very own little secret. So he waits – for a sign of hope, for a go signal, for his phone to beep twice in succession because Jongdae's always in a rush to send messages and always mistakes the send button on the keypad for the paragraph break button. He waits for midnight to end and morning to come rushing through. For a chance to share morning coffee with Jongdae again and maybe talk about Donghae-si, the sea, the past.

His phone beeps, but only once. He reaches for his phone, then, and unlocks it as fast as his fingers can move. will be there 8am sharp this time, i promise!! the message says. He can almost imagine it – Jongdae's apologetic voice, the tight knot of his eyebrows, the subtle quirk of his lips as he says his apology, whispers a soft 'I'm really sorry, it won't happen again' under his breath.

He waits a few more seconds before motioning to lay his phone down on the table. Then another message comes in. When he checks the screen, it's Jongdae's name that greets him, bright against a green bubble. Then he leans closer, squints, reads the message at least thrice before deciding to shut his eyes and laugh a little and then press his lips together. He sucks in his bottom lip – to keep himself in check? To keep himself from grinning too much? He can't tell. All he knows right now is that he has to turn in, pull the blankets up to his chin. Set an alarm for six in the morning because he has an appointment at eight.

He risks a last glance at the message again and lets a sliver of laughter escape his lips. This tickling sensation in his throat, his stomach, at the back of his knees and elbows will haunt him for days.

it's a date c;

ö

He's been to Cork for Turtle at this early hour far too many times for him to get lost. He knows this place like the back of his hand – he can walk from the station to the restaurant with his eyes closed and he won't make a wrong turn. Maybe he'd run into a couple of people, but then this is Seoul. This is Gangnam, and what's Gangnam without its busy streets and people always rushing from one place to another? What is Seoul without people waking up early to get as many things done as possible in the shortest amount of time? Eight in the morning is already late. The grind for the shoot is at twelve. They have to be there at ten in the morning, or eleven at the very latest.

Jongdae takes a while to get into character. Maybe they can start internalizing in the car, on their way to the location. Or maybe that's a bad idea – it isn't exactly nice to entrust someone whose mind is clouded with so many thoughts with a steering wheel. Kyungsoo should know that. He knows that very well. And he knows where exactly to sit in the second floor of the restaurant – at the second table from the window, where there's a nice balance of hot and cold. There's a nice view of the Han from there, as well. It's the best of both worlds.

The server arrives with a pair of menus and hands them to Kyungsoo. "I'm just waiting for a friend," he tells her, then gives her a small smile. He goes through the items, then, eager to try something new.

Sunlight reaches his table after a while, hitting the back of his hand and leaving a prickling sensation on his skin. It's the same as that time, when he saw blinding headlights right before his eyes. When he almost got crushed against the slide by a car that's been steered out of control. He can still remember the way he'd tried to call for help that time, the way his throat felt so dry and tight, the way he felt so helpless. The pads of his fingers were cold. His limbs were numb. And the bright lights were consuming him in the same way that the sun was setting his skin aglow–

"Hey," comes a familiar voice, then a light pinch on his arm. He looks up from where he's been staring at the menu for a few minutes now, and blinks several times. "I'm not late, am I? I mean, I'm pretty sure my watch says 8 a.m. and I've had my time synced with KBS for a while now."

"Hey," Kyungsoo replies, then raises his hand a little. Jongdae meets his palm with his own. The slide of their hands is warm, but this isn't anything unfamiliar. Jongdae's held his hand a couple of times now that he should be accustomed to the way their hands fit, the way Jongdae can envelop his tiny fists with his hands. He's supposed to have this memorized because doesn't he have his talents memorized like the back of his hand? Still, he lets his gaze linger in the way Jongdae's fingers slip between his own, in the way grips his hand tight once he finds a nice fit. In the way the pulse in Jongdae's thumb beats fast against his knuckle and sends shivers down his spine. "He...llo."

"Hi," Jongdae says, then scrunches his nose. He hums. "Whatever. You probably just arrive early all the time. Must be a director thing."

"And arriving late is an actor thing, yeah." Kyungsoo chuckles. Jongdae cocks an eyebrow at him and tightens his grip. He can feel his own pulse in the tight press of their hands. "Couldn't find parking space?"

Jongdae tilts his head a little. Then he squints, the corners of his mouth pulling up in accord. When Jongdae smiles, the rest of his body does. It's there in the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, in the upward pull on his cheeks, in the way his shoulders fall forward and relax. In the easy rise and fall of his chest as he says, "Nah, I didn't bring my car with me. Figured I'd have a hard time looking for parking at this time. I'll just walk back to my flat."

"Apgeu's a good ten-minute walk from here."

"So?" Jongdae shrugs, then pulls away. He clasps his hands together and settles on his seat. "That means I get to spend ten more minutes with you." He looks up and meets Kyungsoo's gaze. His bangs are brushed to the side and sunlight catches on his eyelids. He looks better when he isn't hiding behind his bangs. And he looks better when he has that peculiar, discerning smile on his lips as he leans closer to reach for the menu. "Which means I get to make you talk about yourself because–" He scrunches his nose again. He drops his hand on the table, just a few inches shy of Kyungsoo's own. Kyungsoo wants to reach out, to touch, but– "You know what? I just realized that whenever we go out on a coffee date, you deflect all my questions and I end up answering all of them. That's not nice. Why?"

Kyungsoo hums and cocks an eyebrow at him. "Why what?" he asks. "What if this is just how I am?"

"You're a very interesting person, that's what you are." Jongdae smiles at him, eyes disappearing into slits. "And I'm determined to know more about you than your coffee order and work."

Kyungsoo snorts. "Probably not. I have a... very uninteresting life."

"That's what you think." Jongdae leans closer. The tips of their fingers brush. The contact is so brief, feather-light that Kyungsoo could've just been imagining things, but there's no denying the sting of Jongdae's touch. He knows this. He knows Jongdae. He can't be wrong. "Maybe you just need to let the ghosts find you and scare the shit out of you so you can make room in your life for interesting things. Not that I'm saying that you're not interesting–"

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. "We better order something."

"I dare you to order wasabi latte."

"And I dare you," Kyungsoo begins, then reaches out to slip his fingers between Jongdae's own. He can feel Jongdae's muscles shift, stiffen at the contact. He can feel his stomach turning, lurching. It's a nice lurch, though, the type that sets his skin on fire. The type that urges Kyungsoo to say, "To drink your coffee black. No sugar. Just coffee in all it's black glory."

Jongdae narrows his eyes, but his fingers relax in the fit of their hands. "Is this payback for being such a difficult person to deal with?" he asks, but the twist of his mouth is saying, 'Are you really challenging me? Really now, Do Kyungsoo, are you challenging me?'

"Maybe," Kyungsoo says. He laughs a little. He feels a shiver run down his spine again. They aren't even in the haunted hospital yet. They aren't on set. The film isn't rolling and Jongdae isn't in character yet; the ghosts shouldn't be haunting them at this hour. But the shiver takes over him, makes his breath hitch at the same time that Jongdae brushes his ankle against Kyungsoo's own under the table. So he holds Jongdae's gaze, unwilling to back down. He keeps his eyes on Jongdae, on the glimmer of something indiscernible in his eyes, on the curl of his lips and the allure of his easy smile. He keeps his eyes on Jongdae until memories flash before his eyes – days spent playing in the park, in the sandpit that Kyungsoo can call his only when the other kids aren't around. The day when he showed Jongdae the view of the sea from the beach along Donghae-si. That day when Jongdae ruffled his hair and made him wear a cap because, 'I know it's just a small thing but maybe it can help protect you from the bullies?' The day when he waited for Jongdae in the park, on that slide, until the blinding lights consumed him and rendered him immobile.

"Challenge accepted," Jongdae whispers, a smile surfacing on his lips. And Kyungsoo resurfaces at that – the pull of Jongdae's voice, the ray of light filtering through the waters of the sea. He swims back to the surface and holds onto the first thing he sees – a boat, an outstretched hand, a familiar smile that looks a lot like home.

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, shaking the water out of his ears. He grins. "Challenge accepted," he echoes, and pulls Jongdae closer by the hand. Under the table, their ankles brush against each other.

Jongdae doesn't fight the tide. And Kyungsoo lets himself be carried away by the wave of Jongdae's bright laughter.

ö

The wasabi latte is a bad idea, Kyungsoo soon realizes. Halfway through their trip to Gonjiam-eup, he feels his tummy rumbling. It isn't a light tumble or tiny lurch – his stomach is acting up, and he's in Jongdae's car. At least he's not alone, but this really isn't something he'd wish on someone else. Jongdae's breaking out cold sweat and mumbling every few minutes, "My world's spinning 'round and 'round–"

"Fuck. I thought I was going to crash into something," Jongdae says now, pulling over at his designated parking spot. He rests his head on the steering wheel for a while, and Kyungsoo looks to his side to check on him. His fingers are trembling on the wheel and his hair is a mess, but then Jongdae walked into Cork for Turtle with disheveled hair earlier today. His shirt is crumpled from where he's balled his hands into fists earlier. And his chest is heaving, the slow rise and fall of his chest in tandem with his deep breaths.

"I'm never getting into a bet with you again, ever," Jongdae whispers, but he's smiling. His lips fall open to reveal bright teeth and an even brighter smile. Kyungsoo's stomach gives another lurch. "How can you drink something like that on a daily basis? More than once a day?"

"In my defense, I have my Americano only in the morning. The rest of the day, I drink brewed coffee."

Jongdae groans. "It's the same thing. Coffee with water. Flavored beans doused in water and given a fancy name." He brushes his bangs back. Kyungsoo can see him better now, can tilt his head to meet Jongdae's gaze and see if he's really doing fine. He looks a bit pale, but maybe that's because the skies are overcast and there's no warm light to breathe color into Jongdae's cheeks. There's sweat trickling from his forehead down to the sides of his face, leaving a dull line of color on Jongdae's skin. And Jongdae's already wearing make up. Kyungsoo can see it, that thin sheet of foundation that's caking under his eyes, the uneven tone on the bridge of his nose where Jongdae's sunglasses were once rested on. So he reaches forward and flicks off the beads of sweat, then, and evens out Jongdae's make up with his thumb. That way, Soojung won't have to worry that much about evening out his foundation even if Jongdae's wearing a brand that's different from the one they use on set. They'll save time with preparations. They might even be able to cross off more scenes today and finish taping early.

Kyungsoo laughs to himself a little. They're down to the last few scenes, the last few shooting days. It's almost the end of the contract. They're getting closer to the end.

"What–" Jongdae's breath hitches. Kyungsoo blinks a few times, then jerks away just a little when he sees Jongdae looking straight at him. The skin under his palm feels oddly warm, and when he drops his gaze to his free hand he finds it rested on Jongdae's thigh. The muscles in Jongdae's thighs tense. He withdraws his hand and sits on it, but his other hand is still brushing against Jongdae's cheek. He still has four fingers tilting Jongdae's head to the side and his thumb pressing down where Jongdae's make up was caking earlier. He's still doing his job. "What are you–"

"Fixing your make up," Kyungsoo mumbles. He withdraws his other hand, too, then digs deep in his pocket for tissue. He wipes the residual make up on the sheet, then, and balls the tissue into a small ball. "Soojung will throw a fit if she sees the uneven tone. You know how she is."

Jongdae's eyebrows twitch. His lips press into a thin line. There's none of the small smile, the subtle upward tug on the corners of his mouth. There are questions written on the gentle slope of his neck when he tilts his head to the side, on the twist of his mouth just before he sucks in his bottom lip. Kyungsoo can see them, can spend time reading them all and try to give Jongdae answers. "Yeah, she can get pretty crazy sometimes," Jongdae whispers in response. He drops his gaze to his lap for a while, but looks back up to meet Kyungsoo's gaze. "That's all?"

Kyungsoo gulps hard. "Is there anything else that I have to do?"

"No, I mean–" Jongdae scratches on his nape with a nail, and then two, and then three, like he's counting the steps to the next to his next destination. Well, this is it, Kyungsoo muses – they're parked near Gonjiam Psychiatric Hospital and it's close to eleven in the morning. They start filming at twelve. They should be getting out of the car, not hovering, waiting and resisting in equal parts. "Never mind."

"There's–" Kyungsoo reaches for Jongdae's nose and rubs at the tip. There was an uneven spot there earlier. Soojung won't miss that. She won't be happy if she saw it, either. It takes longer to even out the tone because Jongdae had pinched his own nose earlier when he couldn't sneeze but wanted to. It's frustrating, Kyungsoo gets that, when things don't go your way even if you keep trying to make things happen. Or when you keep trying to not let things happen but they just do. This time, his eyes are drawn to Jongdae's thin lips, the curl at the corners of his mouth, at his tongue that he darts out to lick his lips. And he tries to look away. He tries to avert his gaze because he can feel explosions setting off at the tips of his toes, can feel his stomach lurching again and again, out of control.

And he hates losing control. He hates it more than wasabi latte at eight in the morning. He hates it more than latecomers and late lunches and finalized dates being pushed back. Losing control makes him feel helpless, and even if he does seek help on this matter nobody will be able to help him. There's no swimming away from this tidal wave, the deluge that Jongdae has brought along with him. There is no escaping this. He's caught in a sticky web and he's trapped in the sweet allure of Jongdae's smile.

"You're really cute," Jongdae whispers. His nose twitches under the pressure of Kyungsoo's fingers, and it makes Kyungsoo jerk back. "You try not to show that you care but you're secretly a marshmallow beneath that tough exterior. Like... chocolate-coated marshmallow."

Kyungsoo snorts. He drops his hand to Jongdae's shoulder. He can feel Jongdae's pulse on the base of his throat. "Marshmallows are unsatisfying."

"I like marshmallows," Jongdae declares. The corners of his mouth tug up. He grins. "They were my favorite back when I was a kid."

When you were still in Donghae-si? Kyungsoo wants to ask. He doesn't. His throat still feels tight and dry and unwilling. His legs feel like jelly. And he can feel the thundering pulse at the back of his ears, loud and deafening. So instead, he checks his wrist watch and says, "It's not time for marshmallows. It's time for work." They only have a few more scenes to shoot. The madness will be ending soon.

Jongdae presses his lips together and curls a corner of his lips. He reaches out, pinching one of Kyungsoo's cheeks, then turns off the engine. "I'm good at multitasking. I can eat marshmallows anytime, anywhere," he says. He slips his keys in his pocket, then, and unplugs his phone from where he's been using it as a music player during the trip. "Even at work."

"No multitasking. I need you to focus," Kyungsoo replies. He cocks an eyebrow at Jongdae when Jongdae makes a tiny sound of protest at the back of his throat. "What?"

"You can't stop me from wanting to eat marshmallows, boss."

"But I can throw them away and make you say your lines," Kyungsoo retorts. He offers Jongdae a wry smile. "Thank you for the ride, but we have to start walking to the set or we'll be late."

Jongdae laughs a little. "Of course. There's still work to be done," he says, then unlocks his door. He casts Kyungsoo a look before going out, though, pins Kyungsoo in place with a gaze one last time before slipping out of his own car and wearing a different skin. Kyungsoo's stomach lurches, one full turn, and then it's gone, replaced instead by the hitching of his breath when Jongdae sucks in his bottom lip and says, "Let's go?"

'Let's run away' would be a better alternative, but they still have a film to finish. There are scenes to shoot. There's work to be done. So he nods, takes Jongdae's outstretched hand when they reach the base of the hill. It will be a steep climb, but they've been doing this for months – there's no reason for them to slip in their steps as long as they grip the railings tight. If they ever do, it's because they've lost focus. It's because one of them risked a glance at the other and looked away from the path, looked at the other longer than he should. They can't take risks.

The ground beneath them cracks a little, but they press on. Kyungsoo tightens his hold on Jongdae's hand and Jongdae does the same. He can feel Jongdae's nails digging into his skin, but it doesn't hurt. At best, it keeps him alert, too aware – of the slide of their fingers against each other, of the way Jongdae shivers when Kyungsoo pulls him closer in an effort to stay balanced as they make their ascent. Of the way their bodies fit – Jongdae sliding his arm around Kyungsoo's waist at the first press of their sides against each other, and Kyungsoo gripping Jongdae tight by the arm.

He can feel Jongdae's pulse in his waist. It tickles his insides, sets off explosions at the tips of his fingers. It drives away the voices – the ghosts – in his mind.

ö

The last scene for the day takes place close to sunset, when the skies are the warmest. They're at the part where Gonjiam Psychiatric will be burned down following an uprising from the patients in the hospital. It's a movement for change, a move to make the twisted hospital staff and management pay the price of giving all these patients false hopes.

"And they're sending out a message to the 'other people', those who think that the people receiving treatment inside are lucky because there's still hope for them. They're telling them that medicine isn't the cure to everything. Well fine, it is most of the time, but when wrongly prescribed and administered, it can cause someone's ultimate demise," Baekhyun explains as he turns the pages of the script. He drops the hand he's been gesturing with in his side and takes a deep breath.

Kyungsoo gives his head cameraman a pat on the back and whispers, "Make sure camera D goes really tight on Jongdae's face. E is for Sehun. I want to see the wrinkles on their face – yeah, that close." He cranes his neck, looking around the set and checking the cast. Joonmyun and Minseok are no longer in their lab gowns. Sunyoung's hair is down and disheveled, but she's still chatting up the two doctors and discussing how to improve her delivery for the part where she fights with the two of them. Sehun's running through his lines in a corner, checking his facial expressions in the mirror. Jongdae, meanwhile, is nowhere to be found. He's supposed to be back from his bathroom break by now.

He gulps down hard. Maybe Jongdae's outside, taking a call or something. He whistles at Baekhyun and mouths, "Look for Jongdae."

Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow at him. Over his shoulder, he calls out to Sehun, "F.Y.I., you're supposed to look helpless and hopeless, not constipated!" Sehun grunts in response and sticks up his middle finger. "Thanks, but I'd rather we finish this scene first!" To the other members of the cast, he asks, "Has anyone seen Jongdae?"

Sunyoung shakes her head. Minseok shrugs, but the furrow of his eyebrows says more than it should. Joonmyun takes a deep breath and takes a step forward. "Saw him exit the set through the back door. Oh wait, I saw him climb the stairs to the rooftop. The abandoned basketball court, I think?"

Kyungsoo blinks a few times. Baekhyun looks to his side and cocks an eyebrow at him. He approaches Baekhyun, then, and leans in to whisper, "Has he ever done this in previous shoots?"

"Never," Baekhyun replies. He worries his bottom lip. "He's... always been sorta mysterious, though. I dunno. Even if we've been working with each other for years, I've never felt as if I know him completely. He can be a bit... withdrawn? Depending on his mood?" Baekhyun rubs the underside of his nose. "Never gives too much information about himself, that guy. It's almost like being friends with a stranger."

Kyungsoo furrows his eyebrows. "He's never talked about his past before? Not even a passing mention?"

"Well, I do know that he's a year our senior in K-ARTS but he had to stop and move to a university in the U.S.. Something about his father constantly being reassigned to different places–"

–and that's the only thing that's constant, Kyungsoo continues in his mind. He remembers Jongdae, as a kid, mentioning that. "Appa... His job involves a lot of traveling? And he brings us with him?" Jongdae had said then. He scrunched his nose and jut out his bottom lip then pursed his lips. Old habits die hard. "It gets very tiring, having to... be prepared to drop things when he asks us to." And as if on cue, Jongdae's father had called him from the car passing the park. It took no more than ten seconds for Jongdae to scramble to his feet, no more than five seconds for Jongdae to look up at him and mumble an apology. The next thing Kyungsoo knew, Jongdae was disappearing behind the big door of the big car, being swallowed by family bonds and responsibility and the desire to make his father proud.

He gulps down hard. That still doesn't explain the disappearance. He looks over his shoulder, then, and asks Joonmyun, "You said you saw him going to the court, hyung?"

Joonmyun nods. "Through the stairway at the back. That's the one that leads to the open court at the rooftop, right?"

"Yes, that's the one," Kyungsoo replies. He looks back at Baekhyun and gives his arm a light squeeze. "Run them through their lines and do a test take with your phone. I want to see the take when I get back. I'll go look for Jongdae."

"Are you sure–" Baekhyun scratches his nape. "I mean, it's... not your job to go looking for missing people, Soo. And you don't know Jongdae. Heck, I don't think anyone here does."

But he's not just anyone. He's one of Jongdae's friends from the past; Jongdae just doesn't know it yet. Or hasn't realized it yet, at least, because Baekhyun's right – Jongdae doesn't drop information about his past. He only ever talks about his most recent projects, his love for stuffed toys and sweet coffee. And living in Donghae-si once, but that's it – Jongdae has never mentioned anything about his family ever since Kyungsoo found him again here in little Gonjiam-eup.

He looks at Baekhyun through the slits of his bangs. "Maybe I know him. From somewhere." He worries his bottom lip. "Go back to work. I'll be back before you know it, don't worry."

Baekhyun snorts. "I'm not worried."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. Half of him is thankful that he has his back turned on Baekhyun; the other half wants to look back, over his shoulder. He wants to see the look on Baekhyun's face and see if this really isn't worry or concern, if it's just one of those Baekhyun things that Kyungsoo once mistook for 'feelings'. He doesn't. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the road ahead and says, "Yeah. Of course, you aren't."

"There... There are no ghosts here," Baekhyun says, voice dropping to a whisper. "In case you're wondering. I'm serious about what I said before: I had the place checked and blessed. I have papers to support the claim."

Kyungsoo tucks his chin and laughs a little. There may not be any ghosts around here, but there certainly are ghosts that keep haunting them in their sleep, ghosts that have their fingers wrapped around their necks, keeping them from breathing easily. So Kyungsoo just says, "Glad to know," and makes his way up the staircase. He has to look for his leading man. They have unfinished business to deal with.

The trip to the court at the rooftop isn't easy. The stairs are steep, and the steps are narrow. The railings are rusty and offer little to no sense of security. He grips the one on his right with his hand, then secures his left hand on his left knee. His hold tightens with every passing second, with every flight he climbs. The reward is in seeing Jongdae sitting on the ground, though, when he reaches the rooftop. The warm sunlight makes his hair look like it's on fire, like he is aflame. It breathes a bit of color into him, sets him aglow.

Kyungsoo taps his foot thrice. He leans forward, but doesn't walk closer. He doesn't, until Jongdae looks over his shoulder and tilts his head up.

"May I?" he asks. Jongdae doesn't move, doesn't budge, so he repeats, "May I... join you?"

Jongdae drops his gaze to the ground. A heartbeat, then, "Yeah, sure."

Kyungsoo takes slow, quiet steps forward. He looks around, twisting his torso to get a glimpse of what's behind him. There's a basketball hoop just above the door. There's a tattered banner close by. And there are no ledges here, just steel wires serving as the bounds of the rooftop. It's the perfect scene for the end of a chase scene. If this was an action movie, this very moment, then this is where the final battle will happen – the protagonist battling the antagonist with his bare fists and nothing else. He's at a complete disadvantage but he'll win, anyway, because don't all protagonists win in the end, one way or another? Don't protagonists always emerge as the victor even if they've already been beaten to a pulp? Don't all – or almost all – movies end happily?

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. He faces forward, inching closer to where Jongdae is. Jongdae's sitting on the floor, cross-legged. His chin is propped on his clasped hands and the wind is tousling his hair. Up close, he doesn't look as if he's glowing; it looks as if he's burning, being reduced to ashes. His cheeks are pulled down. There are pimples and scars on his cheeks, blemishes that would normally be hidden beneath a sheet of foundation or whatever make up Soojung has decided to put on him. His lips are pressed to a thin, thin line. They're chapped. One side is bleeding.

He's staring at the scene in front of him – tiny Gonjiam-eup with the sunset as the backdrop – through half-lidded eyes. All his shields are up; it almost feels like a dismissal.

Kyungsoo sinks to his knees, then sits beside Jongdae. "Sorry," Jongdae whispers. The wind swallows the word, though, when it blows against their faces. Jongdae tucks his chin and waits for the wind to subside. His hair is a mess now and Kyungsoo would reach out if he could, run his hands through Jongdae's hair and ruffle it, but Jongdae has too many walls up. There are bricks upon bricks slotted between them, keeping them apart. The three inches between them feels like three long kilometers, and Kyungsoo can't run long distances. He's just climbed four floors of a steep staircase; his knees have long given up on him.

He doesn't want to give up on Jongdae, though.

"Sorry," Jongdae says again, louder this time that his voice soars above the whistling of the blowing wind. He draws his legs closer to his chest, and Kyungsoo leans back to get a better look at Jongdae. Jongdae looks up, then, finally meeting Kyungsoo's gaze, and Kyungsoo feels his chest constrict. His throat runs dry and wave of cold engulfs him, takes over him as Jongdae tries to smile. "I thought I could do it but I can't. I wanted to make it work, you know? I tried to. But I just–" Jongdae laughs. It comes out dry and choked. It almost sounds as if he's crying for help. "Years after and it still haunts me. It's so silly. I was, what, ten then? You'd think close to two decades after you'd have already gotten over a tragic incident, but no. You never get over it. You never get over something as traumatic as seeing your parents die saving you."

Kyungsoo takes in a sharp breath. He tilts his head a little. "What... led to it? Why did it have to happen?"

Jongdae exhales through his nose. It sounds a lot like a scoff, like can't believe himself, that's he's been reduced to this. "It was also summer then, when it happened. I don't know exactly but–" He shakes his head. "Hyung said it started with a tiny fire from the candle. Some people said they heard an explosion at the back. That's... close to where our kitchen was." He rubs his nose against his knees. "But investigations say that someone plotted the whole incident, that someone intended to murder my parents. It makes sense – they work in a bank. Of course, they can't approve all the requests for loans. Of course, someone would hate them, but who?"

Kyungsoo swallows hard, but his throat feels too dry and tight. And his muscles aren't cooperating with him. They feel heavy and sore. He feels sore all over. And he can hear the thundering pulse at the back of his ears. He parts his lips to speak, but nothing comes out. All the words he's been keeping at bay, all the coherent thoughts he has prepared for when he's put in a tough situation where he has to be 'spontaneous' – all those words just fade into thin air. Disappear. Like they've been swallowed by the ground whole. He worries his bottom lip, then, and asks, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jongdae shrugs. "You know, honestly? I really wanted to do it. I wanted to... conquer my fears once and for all." Jongdae lets out a long exhale. "And when I read the script, I thought, hey, this is the perfect opportunity. I get to broaden my experience and force myself to get over my fears from the past. I won't have an excuse to not try hard enough to get over their death. I can do it. But as we started crossing off scenes, as we drew closer to that scene where–"

"Where the building burns down," Kyungsoo whispers. Something in Jongdae's eyes flickers. Kyungsoo can't tell what it is at the moment. He doesn't know this look, hasn't studied it well enough for him to know how to deal with it. So he sticks with what he knows best – playing safe, playing his favorite cards right. Cautiously treading foreign territory and looking around in case someone's waiting for him to make a misstep and to fall. He takes a deep breath, then continues, "And the people inside actually... celebrate. Because they've succeeded in beating the system."

"The scene where Junho faces his fears," Jongdae adds. He worries his bottom lip. "The scene where he finally decides to speak up and tell the doctors that he's done with their shit, that he doesn't need them; he just needs to want to live and move on. I wanted to get to that part. It's... It's the best part of the movie." He lets out a low laugh, still scratchy and breathy. The corners of his mouth are tugged up a little, but it's so light a tug that it could just be Jongdae running his tongue along the front of his teeth. Soon, the smile blooms into something bigger, brighter, a broad smile that reaches his eyes. It doesn't quite breathe life into his eyes yet, though, just adds enough color to his cheeks.

Then the light of the sunset hits him, softening the dark circles under his eyes and washing out the pimples on his cheeks. He looks less like a ghost and more human now. More... Jongdae.

"Baek outdid himself this time, he really did. Didn't think he could write something this... emotional," Jongdae whispers. He laughs a little at that, the corners of his eyes softening. He reaches over, then, tugging at the hem of Kyungsoo's shirt. The pads of his fingers are cold, but his smile is warm. Kyungsoo shivers against the press of Jongdae's fingers to his own. "And you're a great director. You've... helped me feel things characters normally won't. You're... really great at advocating method acting. You'd make a great actor, you know."

Kyungsoo snorts. "I've done it once. I don't have to do it again." He takes a deep breath, and when Jongdae tugs on his shirt he moves even closer. The warmth of Jongdae's side seeps through his shirt, tickles his skin and makes his stomach lurch. "I'm better off behind the lens."

"Trying once isn't enough," Jongdae answers. "Sometimes you have to try and try again."

"Not for this. Not for acting." Jongdae nudges him in his side, but it doesn't hurt. There's a dull ache in Kyungsoo's waist but it's manageable. Bearable. If anything, it knocks wind back into Kyungsoo's lungs and makes him breathe again. It restores the feeling in his fingers, hands, limbs. He can feel his pulse, fast and heavy, at the back of his knees. "I'll just do my best at directing and make sure people do their shit. It's what I'm good at, but there's nothing wrong with getting even better." He slips his hand between their pressed bodies and rests it atop Jongdae's own. He gives Jongdae's hand a light squeeze. "There's... just one thing."

Jongdae leans back a little and meets his gaze. The smile on his lips tugs down into a frown, then juts out into a pout. Now there's the Jongdae he met years ago, in Donghae-si. There's the Jongdae he saw again years after, in a haunted hospital in Gonjiam-eup. This is the person he knows, not the stranger who'd looked up at him with desperation in his eyes and defeat in the hunch of his shoulders. This is Jongdae, the man who walks into the room with nothing but his sunshine smile in hand but draws people to himself without meaning to. This is the hero Kyungsoo had looked up to two decades ago, the same person he'd placed his trust in. This is Kim Jongdae, his actor and his talent. His friend. But there's still a hint of hesitation in Jongdae's features, in the way his lips quiver and his eyebrows twitch. In the way he hooks his fingers on Kyungsoo's own and gives Kyungsoo's hand a tentative squeeze.

"You... You don't have to do that, you know," he begins, voice cracking a little. He breathes in noisily through his nose, then lets out a shaky exhale. "You have to do your job. Part of that is not giving special treatment to people. If you–" Jongdae shakes his head. "If you change the script for me, what happens to the others? The other scenes we've already shot? Or– Or to the whole story, the message Baekhyun's trying to relay when he wrote the script? It's–" He laughs. It sounds more like a wheeze or a cough. The smile on his lips wanes. Kyungsoo feels a shiver run down his spine. "It's not worth it, Soo. It's... inconvenient. I'm just one person. You have an entire production that might suffer the consequences of my, I don't know, bad experience? Trauma? It's... I'll do it."

"But–" But it doesn't matter, Kyungsoo wants to say. He knows how it feels to be forced to be okay with everything, to convince yourself that you'll be okay even if you know very well that you aren't. He knows how it feels to have to lie to yourself for years. So he shakes his head, grips Jongdae tight by the wrist. "We don't have to edit the script drastically or anything. We can change it a bit. Reach a compromise. Find a workaround or something. Jongdae–" He lets out a long and loud exhale. "We make movies to teach people a lesson, not to fool them into thinking that everything's sunshine and rainbows. And if we keep pretending that everything will be alright, if you just 'suck it up' and do the scene but drive yourself crazy after– That's lying to people. That's lying to yourself. That goes against the very point in why we're doing this."

Jongdae scoffs. There's a small smile on his lips, thought, just a light upward tug on the corners of his mouth. "To scare the ghosts of our past away?"

Kyungsoo shakes his head. "To expose ourselves to ghosts so that one day, we may be immune to them," he begins. He can feel Jongdae's pulse on the side of his thumb quickening. He can feel his own pulse in the press of his thumb on Jongdae's skin. "That's when we fight back. That's when we drive them away. and tell them to never come back."

Jongdae laughs a little. "What if they're stubborn ghosts who keep coming back?"

"Then we remind them that they're just ghosts and that they can't hurt us." Kyungsoo shifts in his seat, turning to his side to face Jongdae. "Because they're just ghosts, and unless we believe in them, they won't bring us harm. They're not real."

Jongdae's eyes widen, and his lips fall open into a small 'o'. Kyungsoo waits – for a response, for Jongdae to say something, anything, but to no avail. Jongdae's just looking at him, staring, head tilted to the side and eyebrows joined together in a light knot. And his hand is shaking. His fingers are trembling in the tight circle of his hand around Kyungsoo's wrist. Kyungsoo feels his chest constrict.

"But... I have a third eye," Jongdae whispers. He laughs a little, shaking his head like he's acknowledging that he's just delivered a really bad joke. "I mean– I–"

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, then gets on his knees. Sometimes, it isn't enough to use incantations to drives spirits away. So he lunges forward, wrapping his arms around Jongdae like a cocoon and pulling Jongdae close to his chest. He runs one hand up and down Jongdae's back, a gentle caress along his spine as he whispers in Jongdae's ear, "You're crazy." Jongdae's body goes rigid, muscles tensing against Kyungsoo's own, then his body goes slack. And then Jongdae's burying his face in the crook of Kyungsoo's neck, murmuring something indiscernible against Kyungsoo's skin. Never mind that Kyungsoo reeks of catering food and sweat and fatigue, or that his heart is racing in his chest, beating loudly and wildly against Jongdae's own. Jongdae's body has stopped shaking. Jongdae's fingers are no longer cold and trembling. And Kyungsoo can feel the slow-forming smile on Jongdae's lips burning marks on his skin, the light laughter Jongdae breathes out at the same time that he mumbles, "No, you're crazy, you cuddle bear."

"You... used to do this when we were kids," Kyungsoo whispers. Jongdae shifts a little but doesn't pull away. His pulse is heavy on Kyungsoo's skin. "When you'd... protect me from those bullies throwing pebbles at me in the park. The tall kids who'd always make fun of me." Kyungsoo chuckles, winces when he feels a dull ache on his nape, his shoulders, his back. Years after and there are still shadows, ghosts of those bullies following him around. He shakes his head, shakes those ghosts off his back. He has to do this for himself. For Jongdae. "And after a while, they'd get tired of attacking and leave. Then you'd say–"

"Don't listen to them," Jongdae mumbles. Kyungsoo takes a sharp breath and squeezes Jongdae's arms a little. "Don't listen to them because they don't see what you see. They can't understand what you know about the world. And that's what makes them the real losers and you the winner."

Kyungsoo chuckles. "I can't believe you still remember the whole thing."

Jongdae hums. The vibrations tickle Kyungsoo's skin. "I'm an actor. I'm good at remembering lines, things. It's forgetting that I have trouble with."

Then let me help, Kyungsoo wants to say. Let me help you drive the ghosts away, let me help you get back up. Let me help you forget. But he doesn't. Instead, he says, "It isn't easy. It takes time. It will take a long time," because it's true – nothing good ever comes out of something easy. The best things, the most fulfilling ones, are the ones you pour so much time, effort, blood and sweat into. Sometimes, you have to experience how it is to hit rock bottom, to hit the ground fast and hard to be able to appreciate the joy in floating in the air, slowly falling from the skies and having enough time to look around to see the beauty around you. You have to get nasty cuts, bumps, and scars to be able to feel the relief of watching wounds heal. You have to live in the dark to be able to know that hey, this bright white thing? It's strong enough to counter the darkness. Strong enough to lead people to where you are to pull you out of the shadows. And then you'll realize that there are people around you who'll always, always be willing to pull you out of the shadows and into the light. People who'll be willing to help.

"I can help," he says after a while. Jongdae pulls away a little and looks up, meeting his gaze. "Let me help you, Jongdae."

Jongdae laughs a little. "Reversal of roles, huh? The little kid's the one saving the hero now?" He reaches up and pinches Kyungsoo's nose. "What script are we following now?"

Kyungsoo shakes his head. This isn't a reversal of roles. They're two heroes fighting the same villain, taking down the same ghosts. They're part of the same team. So he says, "There is no script," pins Jongdae in place with a gaze and offers him a smile. He doesn't grimace when Jongdae sticks his tongue out at him, doesn't budge when Jongdae pinches his cheeks and jabs him in the gut.

"You're weird," Jongdae whispers, laughing. "Really weird."

Kyungsoo snorts, lips parted and poised to speak, but Jongdae reaches up and cups Kyungsoo's cheeks with his hands. Kyungsoo waits for the joke, the punchline, for Jongdae to squeeze his cheeks again and maybe make fun of the look of surprise on his face, but it doesn't come. Instead, Jongdae just looks at him, eyes dropping from the bridge of Kyungsoo's nose down to the gentle swell of his lips. And Jongdae pulls him close, closer, close enough that he can see the crack on Jongdae's lips, close enough that he can see how long Jongdae's eyelashes are. "Also, very cute," Jongdae whispers, then cranes his neck to press a soft kiss to Kyungsoo's forehead. He can feel his pulse quickening in his palms, the back of his ears and his knees, on the base of his throat, but nothing burns more than the brush of Jongdae's lips on his skin.

"Thank you," Jongdae says. "For being a hero. My little hero."

Jongdae's lips quirk up, and then he's leaning in again to place a soft kiss to the tip of Kyungsoo's nose. Kyungsoo curls his fingers, balling his hands into fists, and takes a deep breath, holds in all the air in his chest until Jongdae moves south, sinking to eye level with him and brushing their lips together, brief and feather-light. "And for remembering," Jongdae whispers when he pulls away. The corners of his mouth are tugged up now and his teeth are peeking from the slight parting of his lips. There's the same old kid Kyungsoo met back when he was in Donghae-si, the same kid who'd saved him even when he hadn't asked for help. The same kid who'd enveloped his arms around Kyungsoo in an effort to keep Kyungsoo from getting hurt. A familiar sizzle rolls down his abdomen as he chases after Jongdae's lips. He closes his eyes this time, blurs the image of the sunset at the back of his eyelids. He focuses on the movement of Jongdae's lips against his, the inelegant slide of their mouths, the warmth of Jongdae's palms on his shoulders. The fit of their bodies here at the height of summer, in the rooftop of an abandoned hospital, miles away from home.

This isn't in the script, a voice in his head says, but he pushes that to the back of his mind and balls his fists in Jongdae's shirt. This is the outtake, what happens behind the scenes that's better than the story itself. This is the magic that happens long after the main storyline has come to an end. It's the snippet that comes after the credits that always, always catches people unaware. This is the perfect ad lib that spices up all that's been rehearsed.

They are the greatest stunt ever. They are at tipping point, ready to freefall. So Kyungsoo pushes himself off the ledge, pulling Jongdae along with him through the link of their hands.

They fly.

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