rustle | exo: just say yes (1/3)

just say yes
— Chen/Kyungsoo, past!Baekhyun/Kyungsoo. PG-13. 60000 words.
— as far as kyungsoo can remember, falling in love with the lead actor isn't part of the script. then again, he's shit at acting. he stays behind the lens for a very good reason. (Warnings: mentions of minor character death by fire, trauma)
— Written for

jakeun for

sooheaven. Originally posted HERE. as always, thank you to b and for z the beta, hand-holding, and helping smoothen out some rough parts. you are my savior ♥ thank you to tlist for cheering me on ♥

Kyungsoo jolts awake to the sound of DBSK's Rising Sun blasting in his ears. He looks around his room, squinting hard when a sudden flurry of light hits him. He'd left his lamp open last night, and while the light isn't bright enough to blind it's still enough to shake off some of the sleep clinging to his eyelids. Enough to pull him out of bed and back on his feet, toes wiggling in his bedroom slippers. Enough for him to boot his brain and for him to register that – one, it's only five in the morning; and two, it's a Saturday.

Choikang Changmin is still singing in the background. Kyungsoo shakes his head, shivers when he feel his stomach give a funny lurch in his stomach. Now it's Xiah Junsu who's belting out.

Someone's calling.

He feels around for his phone, then, hands blindly mapping out a path on the bed. No sign of a solid lump under his pillow, or even at the corners of his bed. There's nothing under his bed, either, aside from an extra pair of slippers. The sound grows louder, though, and by the time Choikang Changmin's singing again, Kyungsoo feels something vibrating in his pocket.

"Fuck," he groans. He rubs his eyes, takes a deep breath, then growls when he sees Baekhyun's name flashing on the screen. At least he knows who to kill now.

If years of knowing Baekhyun is anything to go by, this conversation can go two ways: either Baekhyun has a tiny favor to ask and it's the first thought that occurred to him when he woke up, or Baekhyun desperately needs something from him. Baekhyun knows better than to call at ass o' clock in the morning especially on a weekend, after all. The first time Baekhyun did it, back in university, Kyungsoo picked up after five rings and muttered 'fuck off' even before Baekhyun could say a thing. The second time it happened, Kyungsoo said, 'look, if you don't have anyone else to bug then bug off.' The third– Well, Kyungsoo has already lost track of his opening lines. All he knows is that he never comes off as too scary to ward off prank callers at five in the morning. The most ungodly hour ever, still tiptoeing between night and day.

"Okay. Intro: I need help and you're the only one I know who can do the job," Baekhyun says as soon as Kyungsoo picks up. He blows into the receiver, and Kyungsoo winces a little at the muffled sound. The line is a bit clearer now, though, and Kyungsoo swears he heard a light tremble in Baekhyun's voice when he said 'help'. "Turns out my director just got summoned to court for tax evasion and I don't want bad publicity for the film so would you please, please be my director?"

Kyungsoo blinks twice. Five in the morning also happens to be Baekhyun's golden hour for jokes. It's the only time he's really funny. How can he forget? "Nice joke, bud. But I'm not awake enough for this," he mumbles. He rubs his eyes again and blinks to refocus his vision. Recalibrate. "Go prank call someone else. Call up your boyfriend or something."

"I don't have a boyfriend," Baekhyun says. "And I wish I was kidding so please, Soo – please say yes. C'mon, you're the best director I know."

Bullshit, he wants to say. If he was the best then Baekhyun wouldn't have considered making Jung Jihoon the director, wouldn't have offered him the position. Wouldn't have had to turn Kyungsoo down two weeks ago with a soft and whispered, "Sorry, man, but he's Jung Jihoon. Jung Jihoon." Jung Jihoon is known for his camera-handling in porn films, not his skill in directing a horror movie. There's no such thing as fucking in space and gravity-defying thrusting. The Jung Jihoon-Byun Baekhyun partnership was bound to be a disaster at the very beginning.

And if Baekhyun thought Kyungsoo wasn't the best – or hadn't just realized he was, after that tax evasion issue because Baekhyun knows Kyungsoo won't ever get him into trouble – then he wouldn't be on the phone with him right now.

"For old time's sake?" Baekhyun says. He exhales into the receiver. There's static on the line, so thick that Kyungsoo has to swallow twice to break the white noise. A traitorous cold crawls up his neck, makes him choke on his breath. He swallows that itch down, too. "I can get you a good deal. I'll bring you coffee everyday. Every-fucking-day, morning, noon, and night. Please? Just–" Then Baekhyun stops, makes some weird, gurgling sound on the other end of the line that Kyungsoo interprets as frustration. He's got that sound filed at the back of his mind like a sliver of memory he can retrieve any day, for reference. A year ago, it could've meant, 'I have no words; figure this out for me'. Today, it means, 'Come on, Kyungsoo, stop being so difficult. We were never supposed to be difficult.'

"We have to start filming in two weeks and I know we can't get someone as good as you. You're the only one who can save this production," Baekhyun continues. A heartbeat, then, "Please? Do this? For me?"

And then there it is, Baekhyun drawing the two deadly cards from under his sleeve. The coffee card and 'remind Kyungsoo he has a messianic complex' card have never been a good combination. His losing streak is so bad, it's almost laughable. And Baekhyun's capitalizing on it like the expert player that he is.

"What time."

"What time what?"

"I said–" Kyungsoo scratches the slope of his neck. It leaves a nasty burn, but nothing that hurts too much. "What time do you need me on location?"

Baekhyun makes a faint sound on the other end of the line. It sounds strangely like 'heeh'. "Ten, but we're just doing a run-through of the camera angles in the morning. Then a quick read of the script with the cast at noon."

"After you buy me lunch."

"After I buy you delicious lunch that will keep you happy for the rest of the day, yes," Baekhyun replies. He breathes out into the receiver, but this time the line doesn't crack. Kyungsoo doesn't miss the hitch in Baekhyun's breathing, though, or the relief in the drawl of his 'yes'. "So, you in?"

Kyungsoo shuts his eyes. Opens them to check the time, then shuts them again when a faint giggle escapes Baekhyun's lips. "I'll be there at ten."

"Awesome! You're the best!" Baekhyun makes a shrill, smooching sound. A corner of Kyungsoo's mouth tugs up in response, like stimulus. "I love youuu–"

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, then leans back against the headboard. Never mind that he hits the back of his head too hard when he shifts in his seat, when he reaches over to grab a pillow then presses his back against the solid wood again. Never mind that he'd just signed himself up for a year with very little to no rest. The quiver that was once in Baekhyun's voice is now gone, replaced instead by lilts and bouts of laughter as he tells Kyungsoo about the tax evasion case, as he tells Kyungsoo about the way he'd called Jihoon as soon as he heard the news. The way he told Jihoon, 'You're out. I'm dropping you from this project. You're out,' like an action star in Korea's most recent box office hit.

He tucks his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, and laughs a little when Baekhyun chokes on his words. Baekhyun groans and mumbles 'I hate you', but the laughter in his voice gives him away.

It's all worth it.

ö

Eight in the morning is an ungodly hour to be heading to Gonjiam-eup. Streets are already littered with cars and people bumping into each other every few seconds. On the first five minutes of Kyungsoo's trip to the bus stop, he almost got run over by a bike and two people. The next five, he tripped on his own foot in an effort to not collide into a group of teenagers. There are less people in the station and it's easier to breathe here, but he still has to crane his neck to try to get a whiff of fresh air. Try to boot up his body properly for a 10 a.m. meeting somewhere near a psychiatric hospital or right at the heart of it.

He laughs to himself. He's not even a fan of horror movies, but this is better than all those action thrillers he's been doing for the past two years. The genre can only get so exciting when you've already used up all the tropes in the dictionary. It's not as if he didn't try to suggest new ways to present a thrilling scene or to orchestrate a face-off between rivals. He did, and he had been trying for two whole years to convince the writers to try something different. And those two years met their untimely (or maybe timely) demise when he'd thrown his hands up in the air three months ago, just in time for Baekhyun to make a shout out to the film industry that, "Hey, I'm planning to do some twisted horror movie. It's not everyone's cup of tea."

Kyungsoo likes the feeling of tapping that niche market, that specific group of people who can possibly influence their friends to see that there's something good in this new thing. In a story about people dying in a psychiatric hospital not because they've been killing the staff, the doctors, their only hope. It's the doctors who have been killing them from the inside, and they did what they did as a warning to people.

btw i stand by my comment: your script's weird, Kyungsoo texts Baekhyun as he flips to the next page. He brought his own copy with him, the same print out that he'd scribbled on three months ago. He still has the sticky note from Baekhyun that says, 'GO WILD I'M EXCITED TO SEE WHAT YOU CAN DO WITH THIS :D'

He peels that off the page and folds it into four. He stuffs it in his wallet, then, and resumes in his reading.

The two-hour roadtrip doesn't feel as torturous with his earphones plugged and his hand busy with scribbling more notes. He's halfway through the last scene when the bus comes to the halt. The conductor stands from his seat to facilitate an orderly descent, and Kyungsoo gathers the things he'd pulled out of his bag during the trip. The crowd stopped following him around as soon as he got to the bus to Gonjiam-eup; he had the entire row to himself.

The pens go inside first, then the script last. He smoothens the creases on the dog ears before zipping up his bag and turning to face front. Then there's the city rush again, this time in a place that's more foreign than most parts of Gyeonggi-do. The last time he was here was in his third year in university, for the shoot of his short film. Baekhyun was his director of photography then; Kyungsoo handled everything else including Baekhyun. Nothing much has changed, though – the vending machine near the ticket booths still doesn't have the classic banana uyuu. The trash cans are still orange instead of the usual green. And Baekhyun still has a habit of standing smack in the middle of a narrow aisle, disrupting the traffic of people going to and from the trains.

"Hey," Baekhyun mouths from a distance. He doesn't wave, just stands there like he's waiting – for the crowd to thin or for Kyungsoo to come closer, Kyungsoo can't tell. So he takes a step forward, and another, and another, until the three long feet between them is trimmed down to six inches. "You look like shit."

"Thanks," Kyungsoo mutters in response. He brings a fist up and grazes his knuckles on Baekhyun's cheek. Just like old times. "You look even shittier."

Baekhyun rolls his eyes and presses his lips together. The smile is still there, though, the tug on the corners of his mouth strong enough to reach his eyes. They crinkle at the corners.

"Do it," Kyungsoo says. There's a tickling sensation in his throat. He gives into it and coughs, surfacing with a smile.

Baekhyun breaks out into a grin and envelops him a tight hug.

They take Baekhyun's car to the location. The hospital isn't too far away, but nobody wants to walk long distances at the height of summer. Baekhyun takes the more scenic route, a winding road around town that Kyungsoo remembers from three months ago. There are more trees here, less people, a thicker blanket of white noise versus the steady humming of nature all around them. "So they finally finished the construction for the K-mart in the past three months," Kyungsoo comments, looking out the window. The last time he was here, for the director 'try outs', the walls of the establishment were still the color of cement. And it looked like a giant oven more than anything else. "When I found out that the music you play in your new car is crap. Who even drives a BRZ and plays Justin Bieber songs on loop?"

"Hey, don't diss on J.B.. I like him," Baekhyun groans. His turns on the stereo, then, but doesn't quite reach his iPod. He's craning his neck like he's checking if they're on track. They probably aren't. Baekhyun's shit at directions. "Pick a song. Or a playlist. I still have some of your pretentious, quality music in there."

Kyungsoo shifts in his seat. He's facing Baekhyun now, his back pressed to the door. Baekhyun glances over his shoulder, then drops his hand to Kyungsoo's thigh. He means, 'Seriously, just get the damned iPod and I'll find the way out of this place'.

"Go straight, then take a left," Kyungsoo says. He snatches the iPod from Baekhyun's hand and fixes his eyes on the screen. He can feel the weight of Baekhyun's gaze, though, Baekhyun's eyes narrowing by the second until he's discovered all of Kyungsoo's weak spots. Until he's rediscovered them. "You turned a block too early."

Baekhyun snorts. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"You looked so sure of yourself." He settles on a mix of Coldplay and Snow Patrol. He looks up at Baekhyun, then, and meets his gaze. He tries to swallow down the spit gathering at the base of his mouth, but his throat feels tight and dry. So instead, he then runs his thumb along the track wheel and gives the play button a gentle press. "I thought you knew what you were doing."

Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows for a moment, and something flashes in his eyes. Like a split-second of hesitation that reaches the corners of his mouth, twisting them until Baekhyun is frowning. "I have to drive around the area at least ten times to memorize the place," Baekhyun says in defense. He licks his lips, parting them as he does so, then shuts them when Chris Martin starts singing on the radio. The tight corners of Baekhyun's mouth ease into a small smile. "And I've only ever driven around here thrice."

"Took the shuttle service everytime you had to shoot on location?"

"We moved elsewhere," Baekhyun explains. He snatches his iPod from Kyungsoo's tight grip and navigates to the next song. It's Gary Lightbody who's singing this time, and the beat of the song is faster. Easier to bob their heads to. Baekhyun does exactly that. "Yeouido area. There was a change in plot. I revived the old children's hospital script and reworked it."

Kyungsoo shakes his head and sinks in his seat. "Can't believe you revived your script from third year," he mumbles. Baekhyun laughs a little, then, and poises his hand on the gear stick. "You've got to let go."

"It's hard," is all that Baekhyun says. He pushes the gear stick forward, first gear, and they start moving again. Kyungsoo lets out all the air in his chest in a long exhale up until Lightbody transitions to the chorus, until Baekhyun starts singing along. He knows the words by heart, doesn't even bat an eyelash when the song transitions to the bridge. Baekhyun's voice soars above the backing track, the engine noise, the storm in Kyungsoo's stomach.

Kyungsoo snaps his seatbelt in place and grips it tight. He looks at road ahead and thinks, this is going to be a long ride.

ö

Gonjiam Psychiatric Hospital looks creepy enough on paper. The first time Kyungsoo heard about it and saw pictures was back in high school, when he had to report in front of the class in fulfillment of his history lecture requirements. Some rooms in the third and fourth floors were found burning, but the fire never spread to the other parts of the hospital. They were contained there, within the four corners of the room, like fate had somehow chosen who to let die and who to let live. In the end, it was the smoke that made it impossible to rescue the patients and the staff. Then the hospital was closed and never rebuilt again. The first three months after the incident, everyone who passed by the area said they'd seen a little boy wandering up and down the hill. Heard him saying, "Go away–"

He feels a twig snap under the pressure of his feet, and he jerks back to reality. To where he is right now, just fresh from a hike up a rather steep hill just to reach the hospital proper. Even from the outside, he can already make out the stark difference between the walls of the rooms that were consumed in the fire and those that weren't. The edges of the curtains peeking from the windows are burnt to a crisp. There's a stuffed toy on the ledge three windows from the front. He shivers a little, then digs his hands deep in his pockets. Baekhyun has always been good at spotting the perfect location for a film, taking whatever emotions it already brings and amplifying it tenfold.

"The best part is that someone left the gates open," Baekhyun calls out from over his shoulder. He gestures for Kyungsoo to come closer, and Kyungsoo complies. The barbed wires have been cut and bent, facing one direction, to create a hole big enough for a person to fit in. It's almost as if someone tried to break in haphazardly, not minding the stories surrounding the hospital. Or maybe someone was running away from lies and was hoping to find the truth in the hospital. "It sorta keeps getting bigger everyday, the hole. We haven't touched anything yet, really. Makes me think that there's some weird life form in here."

Kyungsoo leans back, then looks to his side just in time to catch the light tremble of Baekhyun's lips. He shakes his head. "You're such a scaredy cat. I don't even know why you're doing this to yourself."

"It's exciting," Baekhyun replies, grinning. "Plus, I like the adventure. The… what do you call that…" He massages his chin, then continues, "The uncertainty." He has his eyes narrowed, lips upturned in a funky twist, like he's plotting something that Kyungsoo will regret. It's not as if he doesn't have a lot of regrets already; at the top of the list: not being able to say 'no' to Byun Baekhyun.

"You're being dramatic."

"I'm embracing my inner masochist. Deal with it." Baekhyun grabs Kyungsoo by the arm and pulls him closer. "Stick close by. You don't want to get lost in a haunted hospital."

"You just don't want to go looking for me if I do get lost."

"That, too." Baekhyun snorts. "Especially not at night. We'll need to get the lights inside for the evening shoot. No way in hell am I–"

Something comes crashing down to the floor just a few feet away. The ground gives a light shake, and Baekhyun's grip on him tightens. Kyungsoo looks around, then, surveying the area for any sign of movement. The rows of desks shuffled to the sides of the room are still. The chandelier above them isn't moving. The big hall is sickeningly quiet and the air around them is so thick – with the stink of decay and dust and fear. The only thing that's keeping him in check is Baekhyun's cool fingers around his wrist and the scent of apples in Baekhyun's hair.

"You got clearance to shoot here, right?" He can hear a few pebbles falling to the ground. Jesus, the ground hasn't stopped shaking yet. They're just light tremors, but they're strong enough to make his knees shake. Baekhyun is shaking, too. He can feel it in the tight press of their bodies, in the way Baekhyun's knees bump against the back of his own, in the way Baekhyun's pulse beats strongly against his skin. "From the government and the church or something?"

Baekhyun makes a choked sound at the back of his throat that sounds a lot like, 'yeah, but–' But the door at the far end of the hall is swinging open from the other side, and if Kyungsoo squints harder he'll see that there's no shadow seeping through the narrow space between the door and the floor and–

"Whoops," comes a voice. Kyungsoo holds his breath, but leans closer as sunlight spills inside the room from the door. He can make out a hazy figure by the door, wisps of white slowly gaining a more solid form until he's seeing a pair of feet, hairy legs, and plaid shorts. Then fingers that make up what strangely looks like human hands. The figure moves forward, a step closer to them, and the trembling of Baekhyun's body comes to a gradual standstill. "I know you told me not to go exploring on my own but I was hoping to get into character–"

"Jesus–" Baekhyun groans, grumbles, curses under his breath. "I'm gonna give you a different character and turn you into a ghost–"

"That's a really bad joke."

"And you broke the only rule that I imposed on everyone: no roaming the location unless we're shooting or practicing." Baekhyun cracks his neck. "I made myself very clear."

Kyungsoo pulls away at the sound of Baekhyun drawling his last sentence like a warning, but Baekhyun keeps him in place with trembling hands. His fingers are no longer cold and the tension in his cheeks has eased, but his eyebrows are now in a tight knot. His lips are pursed and chapped and too red. Kyungsoo can make out the spot of red blooming where Baekhyun had worried his bottom lip too much. He lays his palm flat on Baekhyun's hand and Baekhyun's grip loosens automatically.

"I'm sorry," the creature-who's-actually-human whispers. "I didn't break anything, I promise. I just… wanted to get into character early for today's script reading."

"You really didn't break anything?"

"Well." The man chews on his bottom lip. Kyungsoo blinks, refocusing his vision, and settles his gaze on the small upward curve of the corners of the man's mouth. The man's lips part just a little, and out comes a sliver of laughter. Choked breath. A faint giggle. Kyungsoo's stomach lurches. He needs his damned coffee. "I accidentally jammed my foot into one of the lamps lying around. In my defense, I was looking at where I was going but then I heard someone come in and I sort of panicked–"

Baekhyun scoffs. "Sort of panicked."

"I was startled."

"Scared," Kyungsoo says, then clears his throat. The man's lips quirk up in response – one corner pulling up faster than the other, like he's still deciding whether he should smile or not. Kyungsoo lets his gaze trails south, down the man's legs and then the torn sneakers. One of his toes is poking out. The sides are a bright shade of red. "You might want to get that checked."

"Oh yeah? I–" The man looks down and wiggles his toe a little before wincing. "Nah, I'll live. Besides, script reading starts in a few."

"Script reading's after lunch, dumbass. Prod set up is in the morning. I made it clear in the email," Baekhyun mumbles. He disentangles himself from Kyungsoo, then, fingers coming off from the tight circle around Kyungsoo's wrist. Kyungsoo's skin burns a bright shade of red. He can still feel the sting of Baekhyun's touch, the tremble of Baekhyun's fingers against the back of his hand. The way Baekhyun's nails dug into him, too, leaving freckles of crescents on is skin.

Baekhyun looks to his side, then drops his gaze to Kyungsoo's wrist. He reaches out for it and rubs his thumb along the red mark. The burn just stings all the more. "You never read anything properly, don't you? Aren't you supposed to be the book club president or something?"

"I do," the man says. He walks over to where they are, wobbling a little. His lips are supposed to be turned down to a scowl, but he still looks as if he's caught in a crossfire between pleasure and pain. "I just prefer to come in early. You know how long it takes me to get into character."

"Yeah. A million years," Baekhyun says, then moves closer to the man halfway. His shoulders are slumped forward, and the stretch of his body spells surrender. He snakes an arm around the man's shoulder and pulls him close, ruffling his hair when their bodies align. "O–kay, arm around my waist, now, just like old times. Lemme carry you to the castle, princess–"

Just like old times– Kyungsoo feels his eyebrow twitch a little. He inches forward, nonetheless, one step closer to match the man and Baekhyun's forward motion. He spots a gash along the man's calf once their shoulders bump. Nothing serious, but it's bright enough to draw attention to whoever cares to observe. The tremor of their collision is light, almost easy to miss, but the man clutches at his sleeve at the first brush of their knuckles and pulls him closer as if in a plea for help. Almost like magnets of opposite poles or bees to honey. Kyungsoo's stomach does a tiny tumble.

"Thanks. My balance is shit and so is Baekhyun's," the man mumbles. He chokes somewhere towards the end, just before his knees give away and stops dead in his tracks. "Okay, so that was worse than I thought. I actually jammed my foot into the lamp and tripped over it–"

"Jongdae."

"But the lamp is mostly in one piece. It is! No harm done to the set!" The man explains. He moves around to the best of his ability, socking Baekhyun in the gut with his elbow until his knees give him another warning. "Just… take me somewhere where I can sit."

'Somewhere I can sit' is at the back, where the production team's tent is. It's a nice and empty grass field, and at the far right end of the area are nine, ten monoblock chairs arranged in an arc. Kyungsoo takes a deep breath when the wind blows, leans in to the gentle caress of the breeze. The air is cool, almost reminiscent of spring. It's fresh, rife with life unlike the way it had been inside the haunted hospital. The thick, putrid scent that was following them around had finally dropped dead at the doorstep. It's almost as if they've been transported to a different world as soon as they stepped outside the hospital.

"Okay, that's good," the man – Jongdae, Kyungsoo corrects himself – says. He tries to reach for another chair but falls short, so Kyungsoo helps him with it and props his injured foot it. "Thanks, man. And sorry for the scare earlier. I… really didn't mean to."

Kyungsoo furrows his eyebrows. He leans closer, just a few good centimeters forward, and studies the gentle swell of Jongdae's lips some more. It looks strangely familiar, like he'd seen it before – in an actual full length action movie or maybe one of those feature films back in college. Or maybe one of those quick and dirty porn videos that Baekhyun conned him into watching. 'Sharing porn is caring,' he still remembers Baekhyun telling him back then, back pressed to the headboard. It was finals week at school and the final render of his thesis was due in 36 hours. Baekhyun had a similar problem, but had one hand in his pants and the other steadying the laptop on his thigh. 'Soo, seriously, you need to get off sometimes–' A loud gulp, and then a question: 'do you need help?'

Jongdae darts out his tongue to purse his lips, then chews a bit on his bottom lip. Kyungsoo leans back, then, draws his shoulders back. The dull popping of his bones is a bit comforting.

Behind him, Baekhyun laughs a little. "Don't castrate him. We'll need our lead actor for this film to work. His screaming prowess is top-notch."

Jongdae snorts. "Pretty sure I didn't get the role for the screaming talent because you guys wouldn't let me scream."

"You sound screechy half the time." Baekhyun massages his ears, then frowns. "Having to put up with your silly face for five months is enough torture."

"Our lead actor?" Kyungsoo goes back to that statement, a snippet of what Baekhyun said earlier. People in production arrive on time, sometimes early, but actors rarely arrive two hours before the grind. In his two years of directing films, he's never had any experience with an actor who's professional enough to arrive a few minutes before schedule to allow for preparations. Not even the big names in the industry show up on location hours ahead of schedule and with a big smile, to boot.

"That's me!" Jongdae says, waving one hand in the air. He does that thing with his lips again where half of his mouth is stuck between two emotions. Kyungsoo etches that image at the back of his mind. For reference, he tells himself, because directors need to have the quirks of his talents' faced memorized like the back of his hand. Directors have to know their talents inside and out. And he'd clocked in at work the moment he stepped inside Baekhyun's car. "I may not look like it but I'm a pretty damn good actor. What did that review say again? Hey Baek, wasn't it– 'The way he portrays fear and relays it through his facial expressions is a thing–'"

"–you should fear. It's revolting," Baekhyun finishes. He turns around and rummages through his backpack, then returns with rubbing alcohol. He drizzles Jongdae's toe with it. Or tries to, at least, because Jongdae keeps moving his foot that Baekhyun ends up spilling a generous amount of antiseptic on the monoblock. Baekhyun manages to nail the side of Jongdae's toe, though, but that's as good as it gets. Jongdae is agile, quick to react to every jerk of Baekhyun's body like he's had Baekhyun's actions memorized like the back of his hand.

'Agile' is a good trait to have for an actor.

"Fucking ow," Jongdae groans, then curls in on himself. He hasn't stopped trying to shake off Baekhyun's hold on his ankle yet, but his movement has slowed down a little. "Y'know, if this were a zombie film, I'd totally turn to the dark side now and eat your brain–"

"If he has one," Kyungsoo comments, then slides a hand down Jongdae's back. He remembers his mother doing when he was still a kid, when she'd coax her into drinking cough syrup or sitting still as she applied Betadine on his wounds. He remembers it from somewhere, too. A decade or so ago? When he was still a kid? There's a distant memory of the gesture at the very back of his mind, but a clear image of the memory escapes him. The gesture stuns Jongdae, makes him wheeze, makes him freeze. Kyungsoo can feel it in the weird fit of their bodies, in the way Jongdae grips him by the knee and shakes him. A feeble shake. "Give me the alcohol–"

Jongdae grumbles. "I thought you were on my side–"

"He's on my side. I've known Kyungsoo longer." Baekhyun reaches over and uncaps the bottle before handing it over. "I dunno if that's a blessing or a curse. Right now, it's a blessing."

"I'm pouring alcohol into your eyes."

"Kidding, Soo! You've always been a blessing–"

"Wait. Kyungsoo?" Jongde asks, looking up from where he's curled himself up into a tiny cocoon. He looks up at Baekhyun, then draws his gaze to lock onto Kyungsoo's own. "Kyungsoo, right?"

Kyungsoo gulps hard. He blinks a few times, refocusing, and meets Jongdae's gaze. From where he is, he can only see the light furrow of Jongdae's eyebrows, the way Jongdae scrunches his nose when the wind blows, the length of Jongdae's eyelashes and how sunlight catches on them. For a moment, he thinks he sees something in Jongdae's eyes. A flash of something he can't pinpoint just yet, but then he doesn't know Jongdae. They've just met in this haunted hospital. Kyungsoo's supposed to be doing dummy shots with his phone and Jongdae isn't even supposed to be here until one in the afternoon. They're supposed to be working with each other, not caught in a weird tangle of gazes. So Kyungsoo squeezes the bottle tight, aims alcohol straight to the bright red scar along the side of Jongdae's big toe and watches as Jongdae throws his head back when he scowls.

"Sorry," he mumbles later, once Jongdae has stretched out again and is slumped in his chair. Jongdae pops one eye open in response and quirks up a corner of his lip. There's still a question, though, in the way he holds Kyungsoo's gaze, in slow upward curl of Jongdae's lips before they fall open to reveal bright teeth.

He tears his eyes away from Jongdae's face and focuses on his toe, instead. It burns the brightest, angriest shade of red.

ö

The swelling has already died down by the time the staff finishes setting up the tent. Baekhyun's busy attending to the caterers, showing them to where they can set up the buffet table, while Jongdae makes himself comfortable in his seat. Kyungsoo cranes his neck, and from where he is behind the camera he can see Jongdae wiggling his toe. When Jongdae winces, he laughs a little then looks back into the viewfinder when Jongdae looks up.

He puts the lens on manual focus and zooms in, left of Jongdae's face. He can see the ghost of a dimple on Jongdae's cheeks, the sharp dip of the bridge of his nose, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. The way Jongdae's eyelashes flutter when he blinks and–

"The actors are here," comes Baekhyun's voice from behind. Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder and nods, then pulls away from the camera. He remembers to put it back on auto-focus.

They have lunch with the cast before they delve into script reading. Baekhyun introduces him to everyone in the best, most creative way possible – "This is Do Kyungsoo, your lord and your king. You shall treat him with respect. You shall fear him and submit to all his whims and–" There's a thick blanket of silence, then, broken only by Baekhyun's light giggles and the amused sound Jongdae makes at the back of his throat. The guy in front who's supposed to be Jongdae's younger brother in the film – Sehun, if he remembers the guy's name correctly – presses the back of his hand to his lips. The girl beside him – Sunyoung? The volunteer who's able to reach Jongdae through finger painting? – lets out a faint 'hah' loud enough for Kyungsoo to catch.

"And those who bow down to me shall be treated with much fondness and affection," Kyungsoo continues. Baekhyun snorts, laughs through his nose, then nods in agreement. "Which more or less translates to less takes and more food. The food to be served during shoots isn't my call, by the way." He nudges Baekhyun in his side, then snakes an arm around Baekhyun's shoulder. "He's your go-to for good food."

"Go-to?" Baekhyun whispers in his ear, then turns to the cast with a grin. "You're really calling me their 'go-to' and not their valiant knight?"

"You're the cinematographer. You make everyone look good."

"We're a team. You're the king and I'm your knight, sworn to protect you at all costs." Baekhyun turns to his side, meeting Kyungsoo's gaze. "And I still owe you coffee, shit. Americano, right? No Splenda or any of those sweeteners and stuff?"

Kyungsoo shifts a little in his position. The fit of their bodies feels too secure, too familiar. The last time he stood beside Baekhyun like this – shoulder-to-shoulder, elbows bumping – was when they presented their thesis to the panel of film critics. They did a feature on a hidden gem north of the country, just near the border of South Korea. Or at least that was one part of it, because the second part of the video they created was a film set in the same city. It was a mix of horror and action. Two kids who've grown up together, in the quiet company of the sea and neighboring Seoraksan. The kid named 'Kyungsoo' had superhuman powers. His best friend, 'Baekhyun'... Well, he wanted to develop gadgets that could help Kyungsoo become the greatest hero Sokcho-si has ever known.

The horror part came in the form of Baekhyun skidding down the slopes of Seoraksan and falling off a cliff. The action was in Kyungsoo letting go of the rock he was clinging onto and diving headfirst to save Baekhyun's life.

And the last time Baekhyun, this Baekhyun right beside him and not the Baekhyun who helped him awaken his powers in the film, bought him coffee was when Baekhyun almost wiped out the hard drive where the back up of their thesis was stored. That was two, almost three years ago. He's been adding one pack of Splenda to his Americano ever since.

"Yeah, Americano," he whispers right back. He takes a deep breath, then faces front. He tries to wear his best smile. "Everybody's done with their meal? We're all set to do a run-through of the script?"

The collective nodding makes a shiver crawl down his spine. He hasn't done script reading in a century. He's been working with the same cast, the same set of people his entire career that he doesn't need to make sure that they'll deliver their lines how he wants them to.

Baekhyun pinches him in his side and cocks both eyebrows at him. "Ready, big shot?"

Kyungsoo nods. He balls his hands into fists, tightening his grip on his own self until he can feel his nails digging into his skin. "I'm ready."

ö

When Baekhyun said earlier that this team he's working with are professionals who are 'anal as fuck', he wasn't kidding.

Minseok definitely sounds like the all-knowing yet understanding doctor that he should be. It's not only in his voice; it's also in the way he scrunches his nose, the way he controls the muscles in his face like he – like his character is struggling with trying to explain the whole logic behind Jongdae's character's condition and trying not to sock Joonmyun in the gut for having so many questions. Joonmyun's acting is effortless. Even 'off-cam' or outside of practice, he sounds like the overeager kid who wants to know about every little thing. "If you could try to sound less... Less excited and more curious," Kyungsoo says when Joonmyun turns to Minseok for their dialogue. Joonmyun says some of his lines, facial expressions and all, then turns to Kyungsoo, seeking validation. "Yes, that's good. The doctors are good."

"We came from KAIST. Of course, we're good," Minseok answers, then laughs a little. Joonmyun rolls his eyes but doesn't forget to land a light jab on Minseok's arm. Then Minseok assumes his character again, wearing his doctor shoes and glasses as he says, "I will take note of this in your evaluation, Kim Joonmyun."

"His name's Kim Dongryul!" Baekhyun calls out from behind Kyungsoo. He plops down on the seat beside him, then presses something warm to Kyungsoo's arm. "Sorry. Got a bit lost. Turns out the closest Starbucks is just one block away and not two."

Kyungsoo looks to his side and catches sight of whipped cream. "You mean, you couldn't decide which frappe to get."

"Weeell–" Baekhyun shrugs, then poises the straw between his lips. "That, and I really got lost."

"Not even surprised," Kyungsoo replies. He tilts his head to the side and bumps it against Baekhyun's own in a light nudge. To the cast, he calls out, "The siblings are up next."

Sehun gets up from his seat, stretching his arms overhead. Jongdae follows suit, half-hopping and half-walking as he makes his way to the front. His chin is tilted up, head held high at first, but soon his shoulders slump back and his eyebrows furrow in a knot. The corners of his lips are tight, and when he looks back up at Kyungsoo his gaze is sharp yet empty. Like he's feeling everything and nothing at the same time and he doesn't know how to deal with.

Sehun grips his script in one hand and reaches out to tug at the hem of Jongdae's shirt with the other. His expression has changed, too, from casual disinterest to lips pressed in a tight frown and eyebrows slanted. His eyes are glimmering in the summer heat. His lips are quivering.

"Hyung, come on. Stop– Stop closing yourself off and withdrawing from the world." He gives Jongdae's shirt a tug, and another, and then another, until his voice cracks and his chest starts heaving. "We can help, hyung. We want to help! We... We got through the accident together, right? It's just you and me now, hyung–"

Kyungsoo leans closer, tilting his head to get a slightly different view of the two. Sunlight hits Sehun's cheek in a brash manner, almost washes him out and makes him squint so hard it almost looks as if he's about to cry. "You don't know what I've been through, Junsu," Jongdae says. "You don't know what umma and appa made me go through–"

Kyungsoo furrows his eyebrows a little. The shift in Jongdae's expression is too quick, the crack of his voice opening up too many channels for emotion to seep through. "How many horror-drama movies has Jongdae done?" Kyungsoo asks, leaning closer to Baekhyun. He waits for a response, but Baekhyun is much too engrossed in chewing his straw while digesting the dialogue to even reply. "I said, how many movies of the same genre has Jongdae done?"

"One of each? He never sticks to just one," Baekhyun answers. His voice drops to a whisper as Jongdae shucks off Sehun's hand with a wave of his arm. "He's better at romcoms though. Or at least when he was doing them way, way back. He's... sort of overacting this part. It's in character but something doesn't seem right?"

"He's getting too... in character."

"That's supposed to be a good thing."

"I mean–" Kyungsoo drops his script to his thighs and props his chin on his hands. "He may be drawing emotions from the wrong channel. He can't... compartmentalize and reroute his other emotions so it looks as if he's overdoing it."

Baekhyun shifts in his seat, then leans back until he's facing Kyungsoo. His lips are pursed, bottom lip jutted out, but the movement of his lips is unreadable. Like he, himself, can't decide how to express himself in both words and actions or even the slightest quirk of his lips. "You learned that while directing action movies?" Baekhyun asks after a while, long after Jongdae's line has passed, and Kyungsoo only glances at him from a corner of his eye. "Because I don't recall ever studying that in school."

Kyungsoo cocks an eyebrow in response and shrugs. He tightens the clasp of his hands and feels the rough pads of his fingers scratch his skin. Yes, he wants to say – he learned it on the job, while he was studying every shift of the muscle in the human body, the slightest movement of the lips or the nose of even the way the corners of the eyes crinkle. Muscle movement is the foundation of action movies. Good action movies, at least, because movements are exaggerated in the cheap ones made directors who want nothing but to earn money out of art.

That's not how movies are supposed to be, though. Film is the extension of life, in the same way that art is an expression of one's innermost thoughts. So the most subtle upward tug on the corners of the lips or the twitch of the eye and the nose – those mean a lot. And the way Jongdae unlocks his jaw as he takes a deep breath – that speaks and awful lot that's not part of the script. This isn't part of the movie.

It's part of who Jongdae, not Junsu's brother, is, something the audience isn't supposed to know.

"Jongdae," Kyungsoo begins, raising his hand to call the actor's attention. Jongdae's body gives a violent jerk, and it takes him a few blinks before he resurfaces. Then he's smiling again. It doesn't quite reach his eyes this time. "The arm gesture is great, but can you chop up your words some more? Or space them out?" He pushes himself off his seat then walks over to where Jongdae is. He scores a line along Jongdae's part, then, and taps his finger on the script. From a corner of his eyes, he can see the light quiver of Jongdae's lips, can feel the tiny puff of breath that escapes his lips when he puckers them up. "I need to see more of the struggle and less of the actual emotions. Remember, you're having trouble expressing yourself. You can't even figure out your own emotions yet. You'll have to take more time to peel off the layers."

Kyungsoo looks to his side, studying Jongdae's features. Jongdae meets his gaze, though, raises his eyebrows a bit when their eyes lock onto each other. His shoulders rise in tandem with his sharp intake of breath. His lips fall open in a small 'o', then he's leaning back and nodding. Putting some space between them and allowing Kyungsoo the chance to breathe.

"Alright, I'll do that," Jongdae says, voice as steady as the ground. There's no question in his movements, no hesitation in the way he pulls his shoulders back then cracks his neck. None of the character he'd slipped into just a few seconds ago, not even in the drawl of his words. "Anything else you want me to do?"

"Grab a glass of water," Kyungsoo says. He cocks his head in the direction of the buffet table. "Your throat's dry. I can hear it in your voice."

Jongdae laughs a little. "Got it, boss."

The session resumes five minutes later, after a quick bathroom break and once Kyungsoo has made sure that Jongdae has already some water. When Jongdae assumes his place in front, a good fourteen inches from where Kyungsoo is, he slips back into character, sheds his own skin and wears that of Junho's. Sehun balls his hands into fists and runs through his lines under his breath.

Jongdae presses his lips together, parts them with a dull pop, again and again to the rhythm that he bobs his head to. Then he looks up, gives Kyungsoo a curt nod then mouths, "I'm ready."

"Action," Kyungsoo mutters under his breath. He keeps his eyes on Jongdae.

ö

They pack up just before sunset. Kyungsoo stops in his tracks before they leave the backyard, then whips out his phone from his pocket. This image might come in handy – the hospital against the orange backdrop, the way the warm light spills onto the off-white walls of the building and blends with the burn marks. He can picture it now in his head, the scene where Jongdae and Sehun escape from the building. They'd be standing right here, right where he is at the moment, gandering at the sight of the burning hospital. Then Sehun would grip Jongdae by the wrist if he so much as moved and tried to rush back inside to save the others–

'We're saving them from the cruelties of the world outside. This world,' he still remembers Sehun saying. Sehun had delivered the line earlier with so much emotion that Kyungsoo shivered in thoughtless response.

"We'll have more of those tomorrow. Or on the next shoot day," comes a familiar voice. Kyungsoo brings his hands down to his sides and slips his phone back in his pocket. The burst shot option is a thing of beauty when you're running out of time to take a picture at a good angle. Fuck perfect framing and the rule of thirds. He looks over his shoulder, then, and laughs a little when he spots Jongdae nearby. "It doesn't change."

"It looks different," he begins as he makes his way down. The slope is steep, but nothing he can't tread. He makes use of the trees around them, then, holds onto them for support. How did the production crew even get the things down from the top of the hill? "The sun won't hit the building the same way tomorrow. Those birds won't pass by again if I postpone taking the picture." He stutters in his steps a little when the ground loosens up beneath his feet. He grips the tree trunks on either side of him tight. Sorry, Mother Nature. "It won't be the same."

Jongdae snorts. "If you keep fretting about the details, you really will miss the point of the sunset." He reaches out, arm extended in Kyungsoo's direction, and pulls him close by his shirt just in time for the ground to give away under Kyungsoo's weight. "See? Even the spirits agree."

Kyungsoo frowns. "There are no spirits here in Gonjiam Psychiatric," he declares. Baekhyun said so earlier – they got clearance to shoot so that means the place is free of any create or being that can get in the way of work. He hadn't felt any ghosts hovering them the whole time they were there. He didn't see a ghost in the hospital anywhere, even after he and Baekhyun went around to scan the whole place to check for nice camera angles. "If there were, I'd feel it."

"Oh yeah? You can see ghosts?"

"I can feel them," he mutters. He looks down at the link between them, at Jongdae's fingers curled into a fist in his shirt, then Jongdae's red toe sticking out from his slippers. "Can you go down in those?"

"I'll be okay," Jongdae says, shrugging. There's a split-second of indecision, though, in the way his eyebrows furrow a little, in the way his lips move from side to side like he's still looking for the right words. Looking for the right place where he can slot his hands in or wrap his fingers around. "Actually, I think I need help. The ground's too soft. We might fall down the hill and–"

"I get it," Kyungsoo whispers. He holds out his arm in Jongdae's direction, then says, "Hold onto me."

Jongdae looks up at him, blinking several times before acknowledging him with a nod. The pads of his fingers are cold, but not cool enough to leave a stinging sensation on Kyungsoo's skin. If anything, it tickles, sends a shiver running down Kyungsoo's spine. He shakes it off with a crack of neck, with a tight clench of his fists until he can feel his nails dig into his skin. The pressure stirs his insides, makes his blood flow faster, makes the oxygen in his system travel in dizzying circles in his head until he has to stop in his tracks. It's silly. It's just the fatigue and summer at work. Let it go, he tells himself. You're just tired, Kyungsoo. Let it go.

"You alright?" Jongdae asks as they continue they journey south. Kyungsoo nods in response. The last time he had coffee was six hours ago. Maybe the caffeine leaving his system is partly to blame.

Baekhyun invites them for dinner at a samgyupsal place just three blocks away. They take the straightforward path, the less scenic one that's lined with cars and red lights and people. Most of the actors have already left, saying that they have previous commitments because, "Baekhyun, it's a Saturday night. Who doesn't have plans on a Saturday night?"

"People who value work above everything else. Nothing wrong with working a little extra to produce something beautiful, yeah?" Baekhyun replied then. Kyungsoo remembers Baekhyun swinging his arm back, locking them behind him and stretching, then stopping in his tracks all of a sudden. The result? A chain of collisions, his chest pressed to Baekhyun's back and Jongdae almost tripping over Baekhyun's outstretched leg. Jongdae's fingers wound around his wrist for support, to keep himself from toppling over. Part of himself recalling this from years ago – the warm fit of Baekhyun's body in his arms and the way Baekhyun sort of leans into him. Only 'sort of', because the back of his thighs quiver against Kyungsoo's own. This means Baekhyun's holding back, still feeling around to check for the missing pieces of the puzzle.

It's been years since they last did this. They've grown up and grown apart. They're tired and hungry and still low on caffeine at seven in the evening. Let it go, Kyungsoo–

"So..." comes Baekhyun's voice from beside him. They've been walking for close to ten minutes now. The restaurant should be close by. Kyungsoo looks to his side, then, and tilts his head a little as if urging Baekhyun to go on. "How's the staff? The cast? You like 'em so far?"

Kyungsoo laughs a little. 'Like' is an understatement for how he felt earlier while working with Baekhyun's team and the cast that Jung Jihoon handpicked with him. The staff is efficient, works without fussing over the smallest things. The members are quick to read situations, and even quicker to react to them. He would have gotten Coke all over his white shirt if one of the staff didn't reach out to tilt the glass he was drinking from the other way. Baekhyun would have landed on his ass if his assistant didn't grab him by the back of shirt to keep him from falling. It would have taken longer for them to figure out where to move the buffet area because one of the tables gave away if the team didn't bring extras. So really, he doesn't just 'like' them. He's floored. This is, admittedly, the best team he's worked so far.

"They're good," Kyungsoo replies after a while. Baekhyun nudges him in his side. It doesn't hurt. At best, it just leaves a dull ache in his muscles. "I said, they're good. It's too early to tell. But from what I've seen, I can tell that it will be great working with them."

"You and Jongdae seem to be getting along well."

Jongdae's walking a few steps behind them, fingers curled into a loose fist around Sehun's arm. Earlier, when they were going down the hill, that was him and Kyungsoo. "He's easy to work with."

"He's flexible," Baekhyun adds. "Receptive to feedback, too. I don't think I've encountered anyone who's had problems with him. Sehun, however–"

Kyungsoo laughs a little. Sehun almost threw a fit earlier when Kyungsoo made him deliver the same line for the fourth time. "He's okay, too. Needs a bit more energy, but he's okay for a rookie."

"Says the rookie director," Baekhyun teases.

"Only in horror," Kyungsoo replies, then sticks his tongue out. He takes a few steps away, well outside of Baekhyun's perimeter. Baekhyun snarls, then reaches out to pinch him in his sides. "What is wrong with you, I just–"

"Look out!"

He sees two pairs of arms reach out for him, two different fists clutching onto him by the wrist and pulling him back. He can't make out the faces; the light behind him, bright and glaring, has made it hard to discern the details of their features. He hears the sound of horns from behind him, the sound of two familiar voices drawing closer with each passing minute that he gets pulled out of the light. So he closes his eyes – until the light behind his fades into shadows, until his body feels as if it's been put together again and no longer ripped from the soul that controls him. Until he hears Baekhyun saying, "Jesus, fuck– Kyungsoo, I am not paying for your insurance–" Until he sees the familiar curl of the corners of Jongdae's mouth and feels the cool pads of his fingers on his skin.

When Jongdae asks him a second time if he's alright, this time in the dark, he finds the right words to say but chokes them down. I could be. Maybe.

ö

Kyungsoo's earliest memory of getting into an accident is when he was five. He was playing alone in the playground near their house then, running around the lot before climbing up the stairs so he could take the slide back down. Climbing the stairs for the twenty-fifth time, he corrected a voice at the back of his mind then. He'd been keeping track since he got off the swing and walked past the see-saw. The last time he played here – a few days ago, give or take – someone walked up to him to play with him after he climbed the stairs for the twentieth time. They rode the see-saw, took turns taking the slide down to the ground, and even tried to 'climb' the slide. Did it for hours on end. He could still remember the smile on that kid's lips – a shy upward curl of the lips that reached his eyes. And he had tiny eyes that often disappeared behind the curls of his bangs.

It was silly even for a five-year-old like Kyungsoo, but it was the first time he'd played with anyone but himself. Seungsoo was busy with school and his older, cooler playmates. His parents were hardly around, always in transit from one country to another. Nobody wanted to play with strange little Do Kyungsoo. Everyone else wanted to play with everybody but weird, 'creepy-eyed' Do Kyungsoo. It was just him and his shadow. Him and his imagination.

He slid down the slide for the twenty-fifth time. There still wasn't anyone in sight, no hint of the kid who played with him days ago. He climbed the stairs again in the hope that the kid would come.

So when he heard the honk of a car horn a few feet away, he perked up and looked around. Another honk and Kyungsoo looked over his shoulder. Three honks in succession, then Kyungsoo was hit by the bright headlights. Blinded. Stunned to the point that he couldn't bring himself to slide down. The car was picking up pace and the tires were screeching and the engine gave out the most violent cry.

Kyungsoo closed his eyes and counted – to ten, twenty, twenty five. Until someone arrived and ran a hand down his back, asking, "Hey, are you okay?"

"Hey," Baekhyun calls out from a few feet away. Kyungsoo blinks a few times, refocusing his vision. His neck feels sore, almost as if he's been hanging his head low for a long time. And maybe he has. When he shifts his gaze, he finds the clapper is looking at him, one hand holding the top of the board while supporting the bottom with the other. His eyebrows are slanted and his lips are tugged down. Kyungsoo trails his gaze further south, fixing on the scribbles on the board – Scene 5, camera B, take 3. His body feels like it's been through a hundred takes already.

He draws his shoulders back until he hears the light cracking of his bones. He draws his gaze up, then, and spots two familiar names scribbled just an inch apart from each other. When he looks down at the clump of papers in his hands, he spots his notes for the same scene. Right. This is reality. This is not a film. This is not part of the script.

He looks to his side to address Baekhyun with a nod. Baekhyun drops his hand from where it's halfway through reaching out. Kyungsoo clears his throat, then, and sinks back in his seat.

"3, 2, 1, and… action!"

The memories have been flooding back earlier than expected. It isn't until the cusp of the dry and rainy season in summer that he gets these, flashes of his past that he'd long tried to forget. According to historical data, at least, but this is life he's dealing with, not business or figures or whatnot. He hasn't been to any hospital in a while, either, not even when they were shooting on location for his action films. The 'fixing people and mending physical wounds' scenes usually involved an ambulance or someone who has a medical kit. It made the whole concept of being on the run and being kickass fugitives more realistic. The closest he'd gotten to shooting in a hospital was having it as a backdrop in the last installment of the 'Run' series. It was in the ending, where the lead male and female blew up the hospital and exchanged high-fives as they ran straight to cam. The sun set in the distance, painting the scene in a deep shade of orange. Selective focus, then a Gaussian blur. Fade to black.

It's only been a week since they've started taping. Rain still pours down hard in Seoul in the afternoon. It's not the time to be taking a trip down memory lane. It's time to–

"Cut," Kyungsoo calls out. He gestures for Sehun and Baekhyun to come closer. "You're losing the expression in your face. Remember, you've just come from consultation with a doctor and he's telling you to put your brother in the hospital," he continues. He rubs his eyebrows a little. "You're supposed to be confused, not disinterested."

Sehun blows at his bangs. "You can hear it in my voice."

"And I can read nothing in your expression but boredom. Retake." Kyungsoo stands from his seat, then claps his hands in the air. "Okay, we're doing this from the top. The scene will come out better if we do the consultation and the departure in one take. 5B again, clapper. Mark this with an asterisk." Beside him, he hears Baekhyun's muffled sound of protest. He reaches for Baekhyun's wrist, then, and rubs circles where his bone juts out. He feels the light jerk of Baekhyun's body against his, the way his fingers relax against Kyungsoo's hold. "Sit down, talk to the doc, then leave. Don't slam the door. Shut it gently behind you." He holds his finger up when Sehun takes one step forward. "You can even not close it all the way. Then I want you to look at your feet for a couple of seconds before you look everywhere but the camera. And then we cut to the next scene. Clear?"

Sehun opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but only rolls his eyes in response. He returns to the other side of the set, though, just outside the door, as the clapper fixes the text on the board.

"I should get you for all my movies with Sehun in it," Baekhyun whispers in his ear when he approaches. Kyungsoo shifts his gaze to meet Baekhyun's own, turns around a little. He leans back when he feels the light brush of Baekhyun's lips against his cheek. Baekhyun is smiling – no, he's grinning, but the twitch of his lips is too fast, too quick that he misses most of it. Soon, the wicked upturn of his mouth eases into a softer smile. "You're the only one who can tame him."

Kyungsoo snorts. He's worked with worse. He had to deal with Kim Heechul for the whole 'Run' series. Sehun's a piece of cake. "You make him sound like a dog."

"Nah, he's a cat. A prissy cat," comes Jongdae's voice from behind. Baekhyun pulls away, taking a few steps back, then rests his elbow on Jongdae's shoulder. Jongdae's hair is a mess. His eye bags are the size of craters and he has a constellation of tiny pimples on his right cheek. Tiny red dots, at least, that look like pimples. The smile on his lips is a complete contrast to the look he's fashioning, though. It lights up his features a little, reminds Kyungsoo that they're just doing a film. This isn't real life. It's just a depiction of it.

The man in front of him is Jongdae, not Junho. He files that thought to the back of his mind.

"Watch him curl up beside you later so you can pet him and give him a belly rub," he continues. He stretches his arms over his head. "He likes it when you scratch the underside of his belly. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy."

"Uh, no? I don't give people belly rubs."

Jongdae laughs a little. Kyungsoo's sinks his gaze to Jongdae's mouth, then, the subtle upward curl at the corners and the gentle swell of his bottom lip. "He's a cat."

No, that's you, he wants to say. He doesn't. Instead, he rolls his eyes and turns to look at Baekhyun. "The make up's really good. You better give Soojung a raise."

Jongdae chuckles, soft and faint, but soon the light laughter is replaced by a hard slap on Kyungsoo's arm. "It's not the make up. It's the actor who's wearing it! The actor!"

Kyungsoo parts his lips to explain, but Jongdae reaches out to fluff his hair. His breath hitches and he feels a thick lump of air in his throat. Half of him wants to shiver; the other half is still caught between wanting to lean in or push Jongdae away, but he gets to do neither. Jongdae doesn't give him the opportunity to, because the next thing he knows Jongdae's walking over to where Sehun is faster than he can call out 'action!' Jongdae leans in, lips grazing the shell of Sehun's ear as he whispers something in his ear. Sehun remains dangerously still, eyebrows furrowed, nodding his head to the rhythm of Jongdae's hand movements. What the hell are you doing, Kyungsoo wants to ask. Then Sehun leans back a little, eyes wide open when he pulls away like he's just been hit with a realization. Like he's finally woken up.

"We're on a schedule," Kyungsoo calls out. "Chit-chat's over."

Sehun gives Jongdae one last nod and flashes two thumbs up. Peeking from behind Jongdae, he tells Kyungsoo, "I'm good, boss!"

"Alright. Places, people," Kyungsoo says. He glances at Baekhyun, then back at Jongdae who's making his way back to the sides where the production staff is. "And, action!"

Sehun nails the exact expression Kyungsoo is looking for at the first retake. Camera C was able to capture the tiny frown Sehun wore earlier, when the doctor hinted at getting Jongdae into a mental facility, but Sehun raises his hand and asks for a second take for the scene. "It's missing the eye twitch. I wanted to do that in the part where sonsaengnim calls hyung 'crazy' and 'hard to deal' with," he reasons. He looks down at his script, looks up at Kyungsoo, then shifts his gaze to Jongdae before turning to face the director again. "Boss, can you get hyung to stand somewhere I can see him during the consultation? I just need to... have something to draw emotions from."

"Yeah. Feed off of my angst," Jongdae groans. He glances at Kyungsoo, though, one eyebrow cocked in question. "May I?"

Kyungsoo hums, worrying his bottom lip. "Better yet, have Jongdae in the scene while the doctor talks about Jongdae's condition," he suggests. He looks at Baekhyun, then, head tilted a little as he rubs the tip of his nose. "Then we can scrap scene 6 and cut straight to 7 where the siblings prepare Jongdae's things for the move. Drop some bits of explanation there when Jongdae asks – I think you have that in page 7 – Sehun how long Sehun will be gone and Sehun goes into his deep introspection mode before answering–"

"Forever?" Jongdae continues, voice cracking. He moves closer to where Sehun is and stretches out one arm. He clenches his hands into fists, grabs at the air and throws it onto the ground without much force. It's such a boy band move, Kyungsoo has seen better acting than this, but at the same time it works. It fits Jongdae's character in the story – Kim Junho, the man who once wanted to be an idol but had to give up his dreams for– "Come on, Junsu. You won't leave hyung, right? You're the only one hyung has. Junsu, please–" His eyebrows are furrowed, twitching and coming together in a tight now. His lips are tugged down, quivering. His voice is shaking, and– "Junsu… Can you really leave hyung like this? Everybody's leaving and you're going away to leave your brother–"

Kyungsoo swallows hard. Sehun takes a step back, his shoulders jumping in accord. There it is, the perfect look he envisions Sehun wearing for this scene: eyes wide open, lips parted in a small 'o'. Bottom lip trembling and eyebrows twitching from time to time. Sehun locking and unlocking his jaw, gritting his teeth as Jongdae holds his gaze. Jongdae's breathing quick and shallow, evident in the small jumps of his shoulders, the occasional shaking of his forearms–

"This is not in the script," he whispers. Jongdae's body gives a light jerk. Sehun bites the inside of his cheek and twists his mouth in the way children do when they don't want to cry in front of elders. "Okay. Stop. This is not– Cut!"

Jongdae blinks, and then it's gone. He takes a deep, violent breath, breathing noisily through his nose. His face is still pale, though, nothing but the dots of red peppered on his cheeks serving as slivers of life. Sehun remains rooted where he is, until Baekhyun ushers him to the middle of the set and cues the clapper. "Kyungsoo," Baekhyun calls out, voice low and thick. Scratchy. It sounds as if he's been yelling for hours on end and no one's been listening to him. "Start the take. Now."

Kyungsoo nods. "Rolling," he says, then, and gestures for the clapper to move closer to the camera. He turns to look at Jongdae after a while and reaches out, steadying his hand on Jongdae's nape. He can feel the goosebumps on Jongdae's skin, tickling his palm. So he trails his hand down to the small of Jongdae's back. Just like old times, a voice at the back of his head says. Just like that time when Jongdae was flailing around while Baekhyun was trying to disinfect his bruised toe. Just like before. Jongdae relaxes into the touch after a while, shoulders hunching forward. He can feel the light shift of Jongdae's muscles against his palm, can feel Jongdae's pulse on his skin when Jongdae rests his palm on his hand.

"Whenever you're ready," Kyungsoo whispers.

Jongdae closes his eyes. He nods. "I'm ready."

"Okay. Assume your place beside Sehun." Kyungsoo looks up, craning his neck to search for Baekhyun's gaze. "Clapper, cue. Camera A, dolly when they walk in. Focus on the upper body and follow their movements. Baekhyun–"

Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow at him. He takes that as a sign to go on. "Open the windows. Dim the studio lights. We'll want to capture this with ambient lighting."

Jongdae looks up. He cocks his head a little but takes his place behind Sehun, nonetheless.

They do two more takes of the scene, then shoot a few fillers for the reaction shots. It sort of looks different every single time, though, like everytime he says 'action!' Jongdae ups his game, adds more spice to his character, to the emotions his character brings. He'd call Jongdae out on it, tell him to keep things consistent and measure his emotions if he can, but this works. Jongdae's character makes it work.

But Jongdae is his character, a voice at the back of his mind says. He shrugs that thought away and focuses on the scene unfolding in front of him – Jongdae asking Sehun, 'are you going to leave your brother like this?', tweaking the line again and veering off the path the script has dictated him – instead, the word 'cut' swallowed along with the thick lump of something that's been lodged in his throat since Jongdae walked into the set.

ö

"Take it," Baekhyun says. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, then passes it on to Kyungsoo. "I know you just already quit a long time ago but you look like you could use a stick. Take it."

Kyungsoo fiddles with the stick between his fingers for a while before throwing it to the ground. Baekhyun doesn't even make a sound of protest – he just snorts, laughs a little. Lights another stick but doesn't finish the whole thing. He doesn't even get to the half mark, though, doesn't say anything else and just lets the soft blowing of the winds leave cracks on the white noise. He leaves a familiar dull pink stain on the paper when he pulls the stick from the suction of his lips. He's using the same brand of lip balm from years ago. Nivea, the strawberry variant, because Baekhyun hates cherry. And he hates the concept of set definitions all the more.

"How did you quit?" Baekhyun asks. He runs a thumb along the edge of his pack, then stuffs the box in his back pocket. "What made you quit? I mean–"

Baekhyun takes a deep breath and Kyungsoo turns to his side, meeting his gaze. He fishes for a pack of mints and shoves it in Baekhyun's chest in response. That isn't the question you should be asking, he wants to say, but Baekhyun doesn't need to hear that. He already knows it, has known it the very moment he called for a ten-minute break and asked Kyungsoo to come with him. The last time they went out for a cigarette break, that was very last time they did a movie together. It was twelve midnight and they were fresh from the tension of the pre-confession scene in the movie. Baekhyun's lips were the brightest shade of red. It was cold outside and it made sense to share a bit of warmth, so they ended up making out against the front door. By the end of the break, Baekhyun's hand had already slipped past the waistband of Kyungsoo's trackpants and Kyungsoo's fingers were tangled in Baekhyun's hair.

Before going back inside, Kyungsoo'd asked, 'So what is this thing? What are we?' Baekhyun'd said, 'I dunno, but I like kissing you.' 'Oh yeah? I like coffee, too, but I don't do this to coffee.' 'That's not the point.' But it was the point. They'd been backing each other up against every flat surface after every tough exam for the past four years. Kyungsoo couldn't even eat strawberries anymore without tasting Baekhyun in them. Kyungsoo was on a quest for answers and Baekhyun kept hiding that fucking x mark from him. It wasn't fair.

That was the last time he tasted smoke in his mouth. That was the last time his mouth reeked of strawberry and Baekhyun, the last time he did romcom, as well. And now, here they are: sharing a pack of mints at the height of summer with rain pouring down just a few feet away.

"I forgot why I started smoking, in the first place. Didn't make sense anymore." Kyungsoo pops three pieces of mints in his mouth and cracks one of them with his teeth. The cool blast burns. "Cost-cutting. Every won saved is money earned."

"Of course, you'd be the practical one."

"And you're the crazy one. You've been genre hopping since we graduated from college."

"I needed the experience. Sticking to just one thing is boring," Baekhyun explains. He sticks out his tongue, seething, then asks, "What made you give the movie a shot, then?"

Kyungsoo looks to his side and leans back, tilting his head a little. There are a number of ways to answer it – 'I wanted to try something new', 'I was getting sick of action movies; they were getting tackier by the minute' – but he settles on the most obvious one. "You," he whispers, then cracks another mint in his mouth. There's no point in lying; he's known Baekhyun for years that even the slightest quirk of his lips can give himself away. He's known Baekhyun even before he picked up a camera, or a fountain pen that he insists on using when writing screenplays. Heck, he's known Baekhyun even before he dreamt of making films. When he entered K-ARTS, he just knew that he wanted to create something with his hands. It could've been anything: design, music, advertising campaigns. Animation, the next big thing in the world of cartoons. But then he walked into his film appreciation class and Baekhyun couldn't stop engaging their professor in a heated discussion about the best film of 2015. And Baekhyun was infectious. He's that fucking sore throat that won't let you rest, the dull ache in his gums. Baekhyun's the itch that just won't leave.

"That's it? That's your reason?"

"Well, I was getting bored with action. Thought it was time to try something new," he admits, then laughs a little. He pops the pack of mints open again, holds it out in Baekhyun's direction in case he needs something to stuff in his mouth. To keep him from saying something he might regret. "But yeah, it's mostly because you sounded so… excited about the film."

Baekhyun snorts. "Didn't know that 'excitement' wasn't foreign to you."

"I have a lot of feelings. I just prefer not to put them on display for public scrutiny."

"More like, you don't want people to figure you out so easily."

Kyungsoo lets out a low exhale. "Yeah. That, too."

Silence settles between them, broken only by the sound of their nails grazing the bottom of the canister of mints. Baekhyun takes a handful and starts popping them in his mouth like Skittles. Soon, he's seething, groaning every five seconds as he tilts his head back like that can do anything to make the situation better. Baekhyun only succeeds in making the mints slide down his throat, score a thick line of cold inside him and make him cough. He resurfaces soon after, though, once Kyungsoo rubs circles on his back – big then small then big again. Runs his hand along Baekhyun's spine until Baekhyun unfurls, leans into his touch, and throws his head back so hard the hits the wall with a loud 'thud'.

"Silly kid," Kyungsoo mumbles under his breath. He keeps his hand steady on the small of Baekhyun's back, though.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Baekhyun blurts out. Through the thin material of his shirt, Kyungsoo feels Baekhyun snap his spine straight. The dull 'pop' pricks his skin. "Jongdae… He gets into character too much sometimes. Gets too attached to the character. He says it helps him portray the character better. He's always been that way, every movie we've worked on. All or them," Baekhyun explains. He massages the back of his head, his temples. His nape, where Kyungsoo's hand had been earlier. "He's not being difficult. That's just how he is."

'How he is' probably isn't far from the 'Jongdae' Kyungsoo has seen in the past few days. They've been working together for a week now, four out of seven days, thirty hours a week. In all those times, he's seen Jongdae wear different hats – the Kim Jongdae who walks into the set in a baggy shirt and atrocious shorts but somehow salvages his outfit with a leather jacket. The Kim Jongdae who goes around to make sure that everyone has eaten their fair share of lunch. The Kim Jongdae who reviews the script during downtime like he's trying to figure out a balance sheet or a mathematical equation that he can't solve just yet. Then the Kim Jongdae in front of the camera, Kim Junho, Sehun's character's brother.

"He does know that he can't get too emotional, right?" Kyungsoo rubs the heel of his palm along the spread of Baekhyun's back. Baekhyun shivers a little. "If he immerses himself in the role too much, he won't be able to focus on a single emotion and it will be hard for him to relay the most important message he should be showing the audience."

"Helplessness? Or… that it's okay to depend of people from time to time."

Kyungsoo scoffs. He shakes his head. "Fear."

"Well, then, he's on track." Baekhyun scratches the back of his eat. "He's–"

"Doing well, I know. Great, even. Just him delivering his lines freaks me out. I don't even have to sit through the entire film to get scared out of my wits." Kyungsoo drops his hands to his side and leans against the door. Never mind that someone might open it any minute and that he'll fall on his ass if that happens; the wall is a nice balance of warm and cool. It's comforting. And the impact of the fall is nothing compared to almost getting run over while playing on the slide. "But there's too much of it. He's revealing too many things about the character and himself. There's a reason why this is a movie and not real life, and that's because you have to distance yourself from the emotion if you want to study it from an objective standpoint. If you want to teach people how to deal with it through film." He takes a deep breath and tries to swallow, but his throat feels too dry. Too tight. Too cold and numb, like he's been using it too much for far too long. Even his jaws feel like they'd coffee off at the hinges already. "You can't be objective if you're too emotional."

"Is that why you dropped action? Because the love story that comes with those films is all about heightened emotions and lack of control?"

Right on target. Baekhyun's racking up points; it's dangerous. "Maybe," he whispers in response. He kicks the ground and relishes the feeling of the shock crawling up his legs, his thighs, numbing his knees. "This isn't about me, Baek."

"Of course. It's about the film. Objectivity." Baekhyun rolls his eyes. His words sound stickier, each syllable drawn out like he's stretching himself thin, trying to see if he'll break with this much pressure on him. Then he drops his gaze to his watch and adjusts the band on his wrist. "It's almost time."

"Five more minutes," Kyungsoo mumbles, then inches closer to Baekhyun until their shoulders bump. His arms are still lined with goosebumps, remnants of the scare he'd had with Jongdae's part earlier, but that's okay. Baekhyun won't judge. They've conquered fears far more overwhelming than emotions in the past. The files for their thesis almost got corrupted and they didn't even think of maiming each other. This is okay.

"Need a hug?" Baekhyun says much later, nudging Kyungsoo in his side. Kyungsoo simply rolls his eyes and allows himself to rest his head on Baekhyun's shoulder.

ö

They slow down in crossing off scenes and footages from the shot list. They're getting to the juicier parts – Jongdae stepping inside the hospital, knowing that he'll be staying here for a long time, Sehun having to force himself to turn around and fight the urge to take his brother back in. Sehun only being able to talk to Jongdae through the glass because the doctors have diagnosed Jongdae as someone 'potentially dangerous'. Jongdae almost going berserk at the very mention of the phrase. They've got all those scenes laid down for the next two weeks. After much consideration, Kyungsoo relents and gives Minseok and Joonmyun's 'of course, we're from KAIST' line a go and assures them that it will make the final edit. "Adds more personality to the side characters," Kyungsoo says after swallowing the slice of kimbap in his mouth. He wipes the corners of his mouth, then adds, "Besides, we have to bring out Minseok's side story more. Even the smallest cues can do a lot to his overall character."

"Y'know, I should've consulted you on the script even before we got sponsors to support this project," Baekhyun calls out from over his shoulder. He'd already taken his lunch earlier and is now busy taking out medicine bottles from Bayer for their next scene. Strategic product placement and exposure, that was what Baekhyun promised to the head of Bayer. "I could've gotten your builds on the story and it would've come out better. Juicier. More controversial."

"We can't make it too controversial," Kyungsoo mumbles. "Using the Gonjiam incident as the handle is already a big issue, as it is."

Baekhyun shrugs. "It was worth a shot. Or maybe you can use your… what was it? Context cues something technique? The bullshit about subtlety that you were talking about earlier?"

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, then chucks the tissue he'd balled up in his fist earlier at Baekhyun. Wrong timing, though, because the next thing he knows Jongdae's passing by and rubbing his right eye. "Whoa, parents, stop fighting. You don't want the kids to see this," Jongdae groans. "Which scene are we on?"

"Scene 8, cameras A and B. Be conscious of the eye twitches, though. That's Junsu's signature expression, not yours. You can't share quirks at this point because you hate your brother right now."

"How about a lip twitch?"

Kyungsoo looks up from his food, then fixes his eyes on Jongdae. Jongdae plays with his lips, then, licks along the outer skin before nibbling on them. To anyone, it would look as if Jongdae's just feeling unsettled, confused, but there's a fire in his eyes that Kyungsoo just can't put out. His eyes are narrowed, his gaze sharp and focused. He's curling the corners of his mouth like he's just found his prey. Like he's zeroing in on it, waiting to pounce on it and claim it as his. Jongdae leans in, closer, until the light filtering through the window hits him. It seeps into his skin, washes him out. Kyungsoo can only make out the faint shadows of Jongdae's dimples and the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, but Jongdae's smile is crystal clear in his eyes.

"That's not a lip twitch. That's a lip lick," Kyungsoo comments. He feels his eyes twitch, the pulse in his temples throbbing. He's seen the same look before. There's a distant memory of it at the back of his head, spilling to the back of his eyelids when he closes his eyes. Then he sees it again, but in the eyes of a different man. Someone smaller, younger. A kid whose bangs rest just above his eyebrows and whose smile looks like a shy twist of the mouth, a tentative and held back grin.

"Lemme work on that, hang on–" Jongdae tries again, but only succeeds in jutting out his bottom lip. "Okay, never mind. I'll just do the snarling-smiling thing. You said you liked that, right?"

Kyungsoo hums. He draws his gaze down, traces the curve of Jongdae's mouth with his eyes. When Jongdae darts his tongue out, licking the corners of his mouth, Kyungso gulps down hard. "Mhmm, that's fine. You look happy and pissed off. I can see the conflict in your features."

Jongdae holds his gaze a little longer, then pulls away with a small smile. The twinkle in his eyes vanishes when he looks down at the floor, eyes half-mast and cheeks pulled down into something more neutral. Something… vacant.

Kyungsoo shakes it off with a twist of his neck, then locks his arms behind his back. They have two scenes to shoot today before sundown. They can't lose the light or else the scene will look too staged, less real. This will be a long day.

Sunyoung's introduction is alluded to at the end of scene 8. Minseok calls her 'the nice and pretty intern,' a description that makes Sunyoung giggle for a good three minutes. When she surfaces, her features are more relaxed. There's still a hint of laughter at the corners of her lips, though, pulling them instead of keeping them in a small, controlled smile. So Kyungsoo reminds her, "Remember that this is the first time you're really handling a patient. It's your first week as an intern and all you've seen are patients being dragged to and from the ER. You got that?" Kyungsoo says as he rests a palm on her arm and gives it a light squeeze.

"Cool, calm, calculated," Jongdae calls out. He taps his right temple, eyes locked onto Sunyoung's own as he adds, "You're the smartest, most compassionate girl in all of Ehwa U! You're the perfect one for Junho!"

Sunyoung giggles. She chokes on the second bout of laughter, but soon the sound blooms into something brighter. It tickles Kyungsoo's insides a little.

"Clapper, scene 8," Kyungsoo calls out. He looks around, searching for any sign of Baekhyun, then gestures at him to come closer. "If we can get this in one take, then awesome. We want to capture the rawness of the scene. The mix of surprise and shock. You can fake that." Baekhyun inches closer to the camera and looks at the set through the viewfinder. He holds a thumbs up after a while, then kicks the side of Kyungsoo's foot. Kyungsoo presses the record button and waits for the light to turn red.

"Joonmyun-hyung's ushering the siblings outside the room and guiding them to where the interns are, okay–" He hops on the seat for the dolly and nods, then he starts moving. He fixes the focus, adjusts it as he dollies and focuses the lens until the image becomes crisp. Joonmyun's gesticulating something with his hands, and Sehun looks as if he's ready to make a run for it and help his brother escape the institution. Jongdae looks… lost, but that's part of who his character is. Kyungsoo raises one hand, then, and points at Sunyoung. She starts walking and soon she's inside the frame, a foot away from where Joonmyun and the siblings are.

"Ah, Bitna," Joonmyun says. He smiles and addresses Sunyoung with a nod. Sunyoung does the same, even bows a little before snapping her spine straight again. "This is Kim Junho-ssi and he's the one you will be assisting for the next few months. The chief said that you handle…" Joonmyun purses his lips. Kyungsoo laughs a little – trust Joonmyun to add a dramatic flair to his line by using long pauses. "Used to handle someone like Junho before. Class 4. He's a class 3."

"Oh, he is? He looks–"

"Doesn't matter how he looks," Sehun says, groaning. He rolls his eyes and there it is, the tiny voice at the back of Sehun's mind – no, at the back of Junsu's mind – that screams distaste. "He's just like any other guy."

Sunyoung's lips fall open into a tiny 'o'. Her eyes are wide open, a bit dilated, and her upper lip gives a funny little quiver. That's the interest that comes after surprise. This is method acting at its finest. Then she's smiling, mouth curving up to reveal bright teeth. "Hello," she begins, then extends her hand in Jongdae's direction. Jongdae's response is to take half a step back, to reach for Sehun's hand and hold onto it like a lifeline. She chuckles. "Hi, Junho. I'm Bitna. Lee Bitna." She presses her lips together and something flickers in Jongdae's eyes. A light flush crawls up his neck and settles on his cheeks. "How old are you, Junho?"

Kyungsoo bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing. He's never worked with anyone who can blush at will, ever. He's never even worked with anyone who can use the subtlest of facial expressions in lieu of dialogue and use them as emotional cues. If this is the quality of acting that Jongdae can bring to a team producing some cheapass film, then he'll be able to bring more to the table when he works on bigger productions, large-scale ones. Movies that go on for two, three hours instead of the ninety-minuter they're filming at the moment. This isn't talent that you should be keeping in the dark.

"Twenty–" He didn't include an age in the character descriptions, but if one reads the script thoroughly, remembers that Junho has been through two very trying jobs and has been already been burning a hole in his kidney for the past six years, then they'd realize that Junho is around– "–nine." Jongdae sucks in his bottom lip and Kyungsoo follows suit. He brings his hands down to his thighs when he feels his fingers trembling. "I'm twenty-nine. Junsu is twenty-seven. We're brothers and we live together in Gyeonggi-do and we're a happy family."

He scrunches his nose a little. The last bit isn't in the script, but it's nothing that can destroy the plot. And Jongdae's still blushing, but it's more controlled now. His ears are no longer pink and his cheeks have taken on a peachy tint.

"Oh! I'm… just a year younger than you are, Junho… oppa?" Sunyoung chuckles, but quickly presses the back of her hand to her lips. "Ah, I'm sorry, I just–"

Jongdae shakes his head, vigorous and abrupt, and he reaches for the pads of Sunyoung's fingers. Kyungsoo's breath hitches. He's seen this before. Probably in one of those dramas that he had to sit through for film class but… It's different. Jongdae moves his fingers a little and slips them between Sunyoung's own. Sunyoung's eyes shoot up and one of her hands falls to her side, until Jongdae reaches for it, too. The fit is weird, awkward, but then they hadn't rehearsed this. It's not in the script. Jongdae hadn't even told Kyungsoo about this and yet he's doing it right here, right now. Stunning Sunyoung with the warm press of his hand against hers, catching her off-guard.

His fingers are longer than hers. Thinner. If he just curls his fingers around her hand then he can envelop Sunyoung's tiny fist with his own. He can keep her warm. He doesn't. Instead, he stays there, dragging his fingers down until the tips of his fingers are slotted between the pads of Sunyoung's hands.

"Op...pa?" Sunyoung whispers. Her breathing is shaky, noisy. Plosives, Kyungsoo registers. He'll have to deal with that for the final edit. There's a stutter in the rise of her shoulders. That one, he can't fix in post-production. "Are you–"

"It's… okay." Jongdae blinks, drops his hands in front, then pulls away. "Oppa is fine," he says, then puts some distance between them, shuffling back to Sehun's side.

"I'll take you to your room," Joonmyun says. They're back on track, back to the script. Back to the scene they've rehearsed five times an hour ago. Kyungsoo nods in appreciation. "This way."

Sunyoung looks at her feet, peeks at Jongdae through her bangs, then looks at her trembling fingers. When Jondgdae walks away, falling into step with Sehun, Sunyoung clenches her hands into fists and presses them to her chest, left and center. Kyungsoo zooms in on that – the light shake of Sunyoung's hands, the expression on the face. The way she cranes her neck when Joonmyun, Jongdae, and Sehun disappear around the corner. The way she takes a deep breath then breathes out in a shaky exhale.

"Cut!" Kyungsoo calls out, then lets out all the breath he didn't know he'd been holding in. He closes his eyes, maps the surface of the camera with his hands, looking for the stop button, and rests his head on its cool body. He can still hear Jongdae's heavy breathing through the lapel, through the headphones keeping all the sound in his ears from escaping. Through this link of theirs – music cables, one script, too many adlibs and alterations to the original text. All these long feet between them that Jongdae trims down to an arm's length when he runs back to where Kyungsoo is and asks, "Was that good?"

"Yeah, it was," Kyungsoo mumbles. He looks up, meets Jongdae's eyes for a moment, then looks at the clapper. "Zitao, Scene 9. Three-cam set up." He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "We're moving to the next location."

Jongdae beams at him. "Glad you liked the improvisation," he says, then rejoins Sehun and the rest of the cast. He reaches over Sehun's shoulder to give Sunyoung's hair a quick ruffle, then ducks when she looks around. There's a funny feeling in Kyungsoo's throat, a tickling sensation, so he relents and laughs a little, shakes his head, catches Jongdae's gaze for the quickest moment then loses it to Sunyoung jabbing Jongdae on the arm.

He takes slow steps forward, scoring his nail along Jongdae's lines as he reviews the script. When he squints, he finds a tiny scribble in blue ink, saying, 'IMPORTANT!! one take only. don't fuck up kjd :ccc make big boss kyungsoo proud kekeke c:'

He rolls up the bundle of paper and tucks it under his arm. He keeps his eyes trained on Jongdae's retreating figure – the way light catches on Jongdae's hair and turns it from brown to gold – as he walks to the other side of the hospital. There's work to be done. This isn't the time to be thinking of other things.

ö

Taping ends earlier than expected today. The hospital tour scene went more smoothly than expected, with Minseok adding a few more details here and there as he showed Jongdae and Sehun to the multi-sensory rooms. Most of the cast had something to do after the shoot. Minseok, Joonmyun, and Sunyoung had a movie to catch. Sehun went out with the production staff for dinner number two and went to a records shop with Zitao. Baekhyun had to take a bath and play Dragon Age. Jongdae had to do something. Jongdae hadn't said much, just told them that he had to go to Yeouido today instead of returning to his flat in Apgeujong. "Life stuff," Jongdae reasoned out, then wore his back pack in front. He gave Baekhyun a wave, then turned to wink at Kyungsoo. "Go out and unwind, boss. You look tired. Not a cute look on you," he said as a goodbye, then disappeared around the block.

Kyungsoo remembers his breath hitching, remembers his fingers turning cold. The last time someone called him cute was in bed. Baekhyun never tried that again after Kyungsoo made him wear a cock ring and didn't let him come hours after.

And then there's that one time when he was five, in the playground back in Donghae-si. He'd finally stopped crying after someone threatened to hang him upside-down from the monkey bars if he didn't 'let them play in peace' for thirty minutes. "Hey, stop crying," a voice at the back of his mind says now, surfacing from the deepest tresses of his mind. "Cute boys shouldn't cry– Hey, I'll buy you ice cream. You want that, hmm?"

"So you're saying," Chanyeol says now, shifting in his seat. The server places the soju they'd ordered on the table and pours them a shot each. "That this guy you're working with reminds you of someone from the past but I probably don't know him?" Chanyeol snorts, then pushes one glass in Kyungsoo's direction. "Look, I know you're the only person who's supported me all the way with this manhwa thing but man, this plot you've come up with? It's weird, bordering on creepy."

Kyungsoo catches the condensation on his glass of water and flicks some of it in Chanyeol's eyes. "Shut up. You're at the end of your production cycle. You shouldn't be talking about manhwa anymore." He raises his shot glass, then, and clinks it with Chanyeol's own. He waits for Chanyeol to take his shot, then turns the other way before drinking his. The alcohol leaves a nasty burn on his tongue, seeps into the tiny cracks on his lips. "I'm saying, he looks familiar. Too familiar. It freaks me out."

Chanyeol snorts. "Y'know, the last time you used that line was with Baek. Where's that guy, by the way? Last time I saw him was right after uni, before you two fled from each other's life like wounded birds."

"Another of your manhwa lines and I won't hesitate to shove your face in the grill, I swear."

"All bark, no bite, my little pup," Chanyeol singsongs. He sticks out his tongue, then places two slices of mean on Kyungsoo's plate. "How d'you two start talking again, by the way? I haven't even heard you say his name in a while. You make him sound like Voldemort or something."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. He pours them a shot each, then dips the meat in gochujang.

The truth is that Baekhyun was the one who made an effort to reconnect with him. It was a Thursday night, three months back, a season ago. He was fresh from a shoot for an action movie – the last one in the Run series – when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He couldn't see through the blinding lights in the set. So he picked up even if he didn't have the number registered on his phone. It was one of those days when he could be getting prank calls and he wouldn't mind. He'd just successfully finished a movie, the last installment in the trilogy. He wasn't just feeling alright; he was happy.

Baekhyun took control of the conversation. He knew exactly how to broach the topic, how to let Kyungsoo know that, 'Hey, maybe you can give this a shot since you're not really fit for action. Horror, Kyungsoo! You'd do great in horror!' And somehow his enthusiasm seeped into Kyungsoo's skin again the way it did back in university, on the first day of their film appreciation class. Some things, even when withered by time, don't change.

"He called. I picked up. Now we're working with each other." Kyungsoo takes some kimchi from the dish and pops them in his mouth. "It wasn't so hard to pick up from where we left off."

Chanyeol holds his gaze for a while, then nods before looking down. He peeks through the curls of his bangs and blows at them so he can see Kyungsoo better. He leans closer, too, and Kyungsoo leans back into his seat, suddenly feeling the smoke from the grill in his eyes. It makes him wince; Chanyeol's knowing gaze makes him want to duck and just leave. But Chanyeol does him a favor and sinks back in the couch, chopsticks no longer encroaching Kyungsoo's side of the grill.

And the smoke is no longer blowing in Kyungsoo's direction, no longer making his eyes water. If anything, it's just keeping him warm.

Chanyeol laughs a little and pokes a slice of meat. He turns it over, yelping when the hot oil pricks his skin. "You've been waiting for him to call you first, haven't you?"

"You won't let on if I say no, will you?"

"You're not answering my question." Chanyeol adds some garlic to the grill and tosses in some kimchi, too. He picks up the freshly cooked meat and drops it on Kyungsoo's bowl. "I said, you were waiting for him to make the first move, weren't you? Because you have too much pride in you that you won't allow yourself to be the first to yield when he was the first to leave between the two of you?"

Don't go making baseless assumptions when you've barely seen me during university, Kyungsoo wants to say, but he doesn't. Chanyeol doesn't need to read through his biography to know exactly how Kyungsoo feels about things. He has better reference material for that – years of friendship, all those years that they've spent playing in the same sandpit, the same playground. When Kyungsoo's family moved to Ilsandong from Donghae-si, Chanyeol was his first friend, was his only friend for a time. Chanyeol weaned the uncertainty of moving around off of Kyungsoo and eased him into a new town, enough for Kyungsoo to call it 'home'. He grew up alongside Kyungsoo, saw him evolve from the boy who adds three scoops of sugar to his hot chocolate to the guy who takes his coffee black. Heck, Chanyeol can even make a manhwa out of Kyungsoo's life if he wanted to. Or maybe he already has; he's just waiting for Kyungsoo's most vulnerable moment. Or Kyungsoo's next birthday.

Chanyeol knows him like he knows his own self. Maybe even better. So when Kyungsoo parts his lips to speak, Chanyeol winks at him and raises his shot glass. "Cheers, buddy." He means, cheers for waving the white flag without meaning to.

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. He mirrors Chanyeol and bumps his glass into Chanyeol's just a little. He can see the look on his face reflected in Chanyeol's eyes. It's one of those defeated looks that he hates wearing and Chanyeol loves seeing on him.

"Cheers."

ö

Kyungsoo feels around for his phone and groans when he ends up on the floor. He reaches up, grabs a fistful of his bedsheets but only succeeds in falling back down. His balance is immaculate on most days, but drinking always renders him a bit incapacitated the following day. It makes his vision extra fuzzy, too, and the full minute it takes him to refocus his vision stretches into a good three minutes. He lies flat on his back, the bright white ceiling glaring at him. Laughing at him for drinking so much at the age of twenty-eight. So he mumbles 'fuck off' under his breath, closes his eyes as he tries to still the throbbing pulse in his temples.

Dong Bang Shin Ki stops singing. Then there it is again, the opening notes of 'Rising Sun' blasting inside his room at ass o' clock in the morning. Gingerly, he turns over to lie flat on his stomach, then pushes himself off the floor.

There's something under his bed that looks a lot like his phone. He sinks back down on his stomach, then, and reaches for it. The stretch burns but it gets the job done. He punches in his unlock code as fast as he can, eager to make the singing stop, then says into the receiver, "Hello?"

"Ah, there you go," comes a familiar voice. He blinks a few times, then rolls to his side. He hits his bed with the back of his head and groans. "Oh, hey, careful– Are you alright?"

"Who are you," he croaks. He massages the bruised area, then checks the display of his phone. It's an unregistered number. Maybe an alien life form's calling him. It sounds strangely human. "Who the hell gave you my number?"

"You, actually, but–" Light laughter, then, "Baekhyun sort of predicted that he'd end up sleeping in so he gave me the responsibility of giving you a wake up call. So hello, boss." Soft humming and some giggling, and then, "Good morning."

Kyungsoo furrows his eyebrows, then falls flat on his back with a faint 'thud'. He knows this voice, the lilt and the hitch of the breath and even the way the syllables of his words are spaced out. He's heard it in an enclosed space, in a set big enough for a horror film disguised as a romantic film. He's heard it before through his headphones, has seen its sound waves written on his computer screen and has already figured out the right amount of volume for the speaker's voice. If this man stays close to the microphone with less than three inches between his lips and the filter, his voice will come out too strong. Scratchy, on bad days. Six inches is a good distance between the mic and his mouth. This distance – too many inches between them, their only link being this phone line – this is good. No brick walls or waves going past the hard limit. No cracks in the man's voice.

Kyungsoo closes his eyes, opens them again when the man at the other end of the line. "Hey, don't fall asleep on my now. Grind is at ten, remember? You'll want to be here by eight, boss."

Kyungsoo groans. "Shut up, Jongdae," he mumbles. He turns around again, getting up on his knees this time. He can feel his limbs again. He's awake enough for this. "And… good morning."

Jongdae hums. "Glad to know you're up," he says, then laughs a little. "Baekhyunnie's shitting me – he said you're extra nice in the morning."

Baekhyun probably means 'extra clingy', but Jongdae's miles away. Kyungsoo can't show him that, can't prove to him that Baekhyun knows him more than he knows himself. Besides, it wasn't until they were in second year, when Baekhyun started sleeping in Kyungsoo's bed more than he did in his own that he figured that out. Peeling people's layers off takes time. Weaning oneself off of a second skin takes even longer.

"Yeah, whatever Baekhyun says is bullshit," he replies after a while. He kicks at the carpet and scratches a line along it with his big toe. Some of the thread in the carpet catches on his nail. This is going to hurt like a bitch later, when his senses are more awake. "Will you… What time will you be at the set?"

"Well, I'm leaving early since I'm not coming from Apgeu." Some scratching and rustling in the background, then, "Probably in two hours? What's up?"

"Nothing. I just–" He jams his toe into the bed post and seethes. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from blabbering about weird things. He hasn't had coffee yet; his head feels as if it will explode anytime. "Catering won't serve breakfast today," he continues, then worries his bottom lip. "But they'll be there for lunch."

"Oh wow. I was looking forward to the sausages." Jongdae groans. "Should we grab breakfast outside, then? The early birds?"

Kyungsoo looks up at his wall clock. The hands have just moved to ten minutes past six in the morning. It's too early to be translating his thoughts into words with relative ease. Jongdae shouldn't be this eloquent as an early hour. "Yeah. Probably."

"Awesome. I'll see you in two hours," Jongdae replies. Kyungsoo catches a muffled 'oh shit' on the other end of the line. He laughs a little. "Don't be late! It's not good practice to come in late on your first date."

"It's not–" The words get chokes down somewhere along the way, and he feels the lump of air in his throat grow thicker. More menacing. More alarming. "Jongdae–"

A high-pitched 'see you', then a beep. Kyungsoo gulps hard. The sound makes him shiver.

Taking a shower feels more like heading out to catch the light drizzle instead of taking a bath. He emerges from the showers in ten minutes, slips into his most comfortable clothes in five. Summer means he doesn't have to put on too many laters of clothing, but it's raining outside and he can hear the winds whipping the branches of the trees, whistling and slithering through the narrow slits of his windows. He pulls a sweater over his head, then, and grabs the bag he's been using for the past few weeks. Tosses his phone and the charger inside, too, before dashing out of his flat to catch the 6:30 bus. He'll be late by a good fifteen minutes, given the weather, but that doesn't matter – early morning trips hardly feel like two long hours of nothing but white noise when he has his earphones plugged on.

He feels his phone buzzing inside his bag. He rummages through his things, then, until he finds it. probs gonna be late bec it's raining but do u want to meet at starbucks alr? closer to the station kekeke :3, the message says. It's from an unknown number, but Kyungsoo can hear a familiar voice at the back of his head delivering the exact same line.

He can see, too, the way the corners of Jongdae's mouth curl up into a tiny, tiny smile. The image burns brightly at the back of his eyelids, leaves a haunting image in wisps of light when he opens eyes.

yeah sure, sounds good, he replies. He slips his phone in his pocket and puts on his earphones. SHINee's debut single starts out as a low hum in his ears.

ö

Kyungsoo wakes up with a tiny jerk of the body, a violent breath of life. He can still feel his knees shaking, even as the bus slows down to a halt. It's much colder now than it was two hours ago, when he'd just gotten on, but then the rain's pouring much harder. Heavier. The big droplets of water earlier have now turned into tiny droplets cascading down the glass. The streets of Gonjiam-eup are covered in a thick layer of white. And the wind's blowing, rustling the leaves of the streets. Kyungsoo has only two thoughts in mind: 1) it's a good thing he brought his big umbrella with him at the very last minute, and 2) Jongdae brought an umbrella with him, right?

you have an umbrella with you? he texts Jongdae as he alights the bus. He rushes to the shed as soon as his feet hit the ground, covering his bag with his coat. if not i can meet you at the station–

"Hey, boss!" Kyungsoo snorts. He hits 'send' on accident and just rolls his eyes before looking over his shoulder. "Kyungsoo!"

He turns around and raises his hand in the air as a greeting. There aren't too many people in the station – mostly individuals falling in line near the turnstiles to swipe their cards, wallet in one hand and file cases or bags in the other – but he's long accepted that it's easier to get drowned by a sea of people when you're small. Once, Chanyeol walked right past him in Myeongdong because Chanyeol was looking up instead of down. 'And you're in black – all black! I mean, I could've mistaken you as a shadow or something–' It comes in handy sometimes, when he feels like being swallowed by the ground or when he feels like disappearing. Slow down for a while and watch people rush to wherever they want to be from the sidelines and just stay in one place. Watch people pass him by.

"Just saw your text," Jongdae says as he approaches, holding his phone up. Kyungsoo can't see much from where he is, but it looks as if there are icons beside his name in Jongdae's contact list. Jongdae would be the type to add a star to someone's name in a contact card. Or maybe even a tilde. It's already there, in the lilt of his voice or in the way he says things like he's always singing. "Lemme just say: you have great timing and I am the luckiest person alive. How did you know I didn't have an umbrella with me?"

Kyungsoo shrugs. "Just thought you'd forget to bring one."

Jongdae chuckles. He doesn't sound mad; he sounds amused. "Even if it's been raining the whole night?"

"I almost forgot to bring mine," Kyungsoo admits. "I mean, I was in a rush to catch the second trip so I didn't want to–"

Jongdae leans back, eyes widening and his lips falling open into a small 'o'. He presses his lips together in a thin line, but there's still the subtle upward tug on the corners of his lips, pulling up his cheeks and lighting up his features a little. There are raindrops on Jongdae's bangs, sliding down the strands until they catch on the tips. They don't fall off just yet, not until Jongdae shakes them off and blows at his hair. He looks like a puppy after bathing, or a cat trying to fight off the forces of evil. And he looks a little more than human when the wind blows and tousles his damp hair, caresses his cheeks and makes giggle a little when he shivers.

Kyungsoo wants to reach out, to brush Jongdae's bangs away from his eyes so he can see better. So he can see Jongdae better. He doesn't. Instead, he tightens his grip on the handle of the umbrella and leans against it. His knees still feel a bit weak.

"You… really wanted to get here on time, didn't you?" Jongdae says after a while. He tilts his head to the right, then the left, like he's trying to see the best possible angle where he can marvel at Kyungsoo. Or maybe he's just trying to check where the wind is blowing so he won't get water in his eyes. It must be the latter. "Everyone's probably going to be late; you didn't have to trouble yourself with–"

"It's my film. My–" Baby, he wants to say, but swallows the word down even before he can press his lips together and make a 'b' sound. "Passion," he says, instead, no matter how weird it sounds. If they were reading a script out loud, the director probably would have yelled 'cut!', would've told Kyungsoo that the line sounds so forced and contrived. That's what he would have done if he saw his stuttering, second-guessing self in front of the cameras. It's disgusting. This isn't the character he's written himself to be. "I don't mind traveling two hours everyday for it. Rain shouldn't be much of a bother."

Jongdae opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. He purses his lips and sucks them in at the corners. And Kyungsoo sucks in his breath, gives in to the allure of studying Jongdae's lips, how he twists them until they part to reveal a bright smile. Tiny teeth. Small cracks and dry skin on Jongdae's bottom lip. His thin lips that are a dull shade of pink.

"You're… something," Jongdae whispers. He leans in and reaches out, hovering for a while, before fluffing Kyungsoo's hair. Only when he drops his hand to his sides does Kyungsoo let out all the breath he's been keeping in for the past minute. "You're really cute."

Kyungsoo bites the inside of his cheek. "We should get going," he says, then opens his umbrella overhead. Jongdae slips right beside him and wraps his fingers around Kyungsoo's arm. "Ready?"

Jongdae smiles at him and scrunches his nose, eyes thinning into slits. He wasn't ready for that.

ö

Jongdae orders some weird variation of a Caramel Macchiato while Kyungsoo sticks with his Americano. One thing they both agree on, though, is how great the French Toast tastes and how it's even better when you spread some strawberry jam on top. "The secret," Jongdae begins, voice dropping to a whisper. He looks around for an audience like he really doesn't want anyone else to know, like this is supposed to be their secret. He hooks his index finger on the collar of Kyungsoo's sweater, then, and gives it a light tug, pulling Kyungsoo closer. Kyungsoo leans forward but grips the edge of the table tight, holding back and giving in in equal parts. Jongdae's skin is cool to touch, leaves tiny sparks when his knuckles ghost over Kyungsoo's skin, but Jongdae's cheeks are pink and his lips are the brightest shade of red again. And he looks alive, like his convoluted coffee order had breathed life into him. Like breakfast has calmed the storm and is prying the doors of clouds open so that the sun can shine down on them. "The secret is to apply just a teeny, tiny bit of maple syrup after you spread butter on the toast, and then add the jam as the last layer. And then roll the slice and munch on the slightly burnt edges and ah–"

He presses his lips together, lips curling up at the corners as he lets out a low hum. Kyungsoo gulps hard, waits for it – the punchline, the continuation, for Jongdae to open his eyes and drop the smile and just stuff his mouth with the French Toast because those lips are a sin – the conflict. The shape of his mouth is the climax, and his bright laughter is the lack of resolution. So Kyungsoo presses rewind, plays this moment in slow-mo, and studies every quirk of Jongdae's face, the shift of the muscles, the slow-forming smile on his lips in the hope of finding a good way to end this. The fastest way to make Jongdae drop that smile and sink his lips back into his drink.

After Jongdae empties out his sweet coffee, they walk to the location in silence. Jongdae sings from time to time, creating ripples in the thick sheet of white noise, but for the most part he keeps his lips pressed together, his uncoordinated limbs humming for him instead. When they arrive at the set, the production team has already started setting up. The redheads are cruel in the way they shine light upon Jongdae, setting him aglow and then washing him out. So Kyungsoo sticks around a little longer, holds onto Jongdae like a lifeline and hooks the pads of his fingers on Jongdae's arm.

The lighting assistant turns the redhead to the other side. "Relax," Jongdae whispers in Kyungsoo's ear, then pulls away with a smile.

The thumping in his chest quickens. They're not walking in the rain anymore. They're no longer sharing an umbrella and taking careful steps so they won't get mud on their pants. There's no reason to hang around a little longer. Kyungsoo rubs his hands together, then, and balls his hands into fists along the hem of his shirt in an effort to restore the feeling in his hands. To thaw himself out. The warmth it brings him, the sizzle of heat that crawls up his spine and down his abdomen – it's not the same. This is not in the script. This isn't what he's prepared himself for. He reworks the scene in his head, moves things around until Jongdae's walking back in his direction.

Jongdae gives him a wink before walking past him and slipping into the dressing room. This is part of the script. Jongdae's the lead actor, and Kyungsoo's the director. There's work to be done. So Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, swallows the spit in his mouth, and counts from three to one.

Lights, camera, action.

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