Archive of Our Own ^beta

You enter the theatre on a rainy Tuesday afternoon.

Many others follow, some huddled under outstretched umbrellas, others not having the forethought to bring protection and simply hugging their jackets around shivering bodies. The lights of the cinema shimmer delicately on the rippled puddles that stretch the black tarmac, the cold outside breeze a reality away from the warm compression of inside.

You order popcorn - salted, large - before flashing your booked ticket to the employee and scurrying into the film room. Only those who pre-booked their seat may enter. This movie is in high demand.

The soaring ceiling gives you vertigo and your chair is a peeling red velvet and leather. It is not uncomfortable but perhaps could do with another armrest.

Around you people talk. Words run together like rain forming rivers down mountains and yet you don't mind. The sound is comforting and eases what little premonition you had.

Just as you go to set your popcorn down and turn off your mobile device the lights begin to dim.

The screens flashes a rating - Restricted for adult content and language - before gently fading into white.

The movie begins.

A lone boy rides a bike down a deserted suburban road. White brick houses with red tiled paths line the background behind him. He looks too big for the object he sits on, wide shoulders disproportionately balanced on small handlebars and rickety pipes. On his frame hangs a jumper with a circular hem, coarse sleeved bunched up at pale forearms and perspiration littering his forehead. His hair is blonde and scraggly. An earring hangs from one ear. No music is playing, only the sound of the bike spokes turning can be heard.

The camera stops rolling forward.

The boy pulls out of frame.

A single word appears overlain on the washed-out street; the name of the movie written in block white - no director, no writer, no elaborate font. Just one word.

Boy.

Hoseok was bored.

Irrationally, irrevocably, annoyingly bored. Despite the expensive champagne clutched in his hand and the plush chair he sat in he couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly drained by the constant nattering of the man pacing in front of him in the white hotel room.

“As you can see, I have collected a large number of these prospects for you to go through and I would really appreciate you taking a look,” the man said, waving the paper in his hands as if it would inspire a revolution. “They range from Sci-fi to modern dramas and there are even a few Dystopian offers since I know you like those-”

“Why are you here?” Hoseok suddenly asked, waving his hand as if to invoke a faster answer. His Manager Minhyuk - a scrawny, eager little thing who talked too fast and often wore a tie that didn’t match his shoes - stuttered halfway through his sentence before a look of outrage crossed his puppy face.

“Why am I here? Why am I here?” He squawked, throwing down the stack of paper onto the expensive hotel glass table Hoseok rest his slippered feet on. If the lounging blonde actor had known any better he would have said his manager was mad. “I have spent all day leafing through ridiculously expensive movie offers and yet you refuse to look at one.”

“I told you I’m not interested in any more projects,” Hoseok said, bored. “My last paycheck just came in for ‘Highlander’. I made three billion won on that movie alone – that’s two million dollars, last time I checked. I don’t need any more jobs.”

“This isn’t about need,” Minhyuk hissed. “This is about your career. You cannot retire at twenty-four, some of us still need to make money.”

“And I’m not one of them.”

A groan of complete hopelessness echoed through the hotel room. “Please. Please Lee, I’m begging, just… just look. For me?”

At the defeated sound of his voice Hoseok’s stare flickered up to meet his managers pleading gaze. The sight of eyes wide and shining in the yellow-orange haze of the hotel room caused Hoseok’s stomach to twist in guilt. He didn’t hate Minhyuk – in fact, he considered him a friend – but he was nothing if not a handful to the poor boy.

After a moment of tense silence Hoseok sighed dramatically and picked up the stack of proposals with a lazy hand. On each front page flashed an eye-catching title along with a plot summary scribbled underneath. They were all the same to Hoseok – long monotone scripts detailing simple love triangles, dystopian universes and sci-fi realities where science was ruled over by plot. Many times over Hoseok had been told his face was ‘perfect for YA’, and so – despite his desire to perhaps partake in something that would bring credibility to his name, something that would be meaningful in the complex world of acting – the only marketability he had was spent on dramatic brooding shots for teenage girls.

He was a star, but not in the way he wanted.

“These are all shit,” he mumbled, rifling his way through each script. “Garbage. No to all of them.”

“Lee, please,” His manager pleaded, exasperated. “You haven’t done anything in so long, the internet is buzzing with your next project. You cannot possibly reject all of them-”

“I can do what I want.” Hoseok murmured, thumbing through the last proposals of a stack. There was nothing here for him. What should he have for dinner? Perhaps he should go out to the new downtown restaurant – all the A-Listers went there. As if listening to his thoughts his stomach gave a rumble of agreement and Hoseok solidified his plan of action later. Restaurant, party, home to his four-bedroom mansion off the West of the city. Simple.

Then all of a sudden, the moment before he gave up his fruitless search, something unusual caught his eye.

At the bottom of the stack sat a proposal printed on cheap paper. It was not glossy and laminated like the others but smudged and wrinkled as if lovingly carved from a typewriter. The studio name ‘X-Clan-5’ was none he’d ever heard before - it was certainly not one of the mainstreams of production he had come to despise. How had something so under the radar crept into the job offers for the hottest star of Korea right now?

The title was delicately sprawled across the middle of the yellow tinted page.

Boy.

 “-we need to keep you in the spotlight. How’s the one with Soyou? She’s a big thing right now, you could have amazing chemistry with her-”

“Shhh,” Hoseok snapped, sitting up and leaning over the script with more curiosity. He thumbed through the wrinkled pages gently, scanning each word, reading into the character and dynamics. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen. “What’s this?” he looked up, holding out the script accusingly.

His manager blanked before his gaze landed on the outstretched script. Almost immediately he paled and a bubbly laugh forced itself out of his throat.

“Oh, that? I was meant to take that out. It was dropped on my doorstep this morning by some amateur director. Like you were some D-Lister trying to make it, ha!” At this explanation Hoseok frowned and turned back to the yellowed paper. “I looked through it anyway and it’s as pointless as it seems. The writers were obviously trying to pull some Western ‘Call Me By Your Name’ vibes, but it’s nowhere near your market. Far too edgy for a mainstream star.”

“I want to do it,” Hoseok said quietly.

“Ha! That’s a good joke.”

“No, I’m serious.” The actor looked up firmly. There was a feeling of certainty bubbling in his chest, a determination to follow through with this. “I want to do it.”

“What?” Minhyuk choked out, voice stained with strained surprise. “That’s absurd, you cannot. Do you know how people would react to a controversy such as this? Your career would be over, the rumours would follow you for the rest of your life!”

“I don’t care.” For a brief second Hoseok raised his voice, timing it perfectly with his ascent from the chair as he stood up with passion. “This? This script right here? It means something. It means something to the people who wrote it – Jooheon, Kihyun, whoever they are. You can tell they’ve poured their heart into this, that- that they’re trying to say something. Change people’s minds.”

“You can change people’s minds in other ways, Hoseok. You do not need to destroy your future for a statement that doesn’t even apply to you.”

“How do you know it doesn’t apply to me?” said Hoseok.

Wrong decision. Minhyuk’s gaze hardened like stone and he seemed hesitant with his next words.

“Be careful, Hoseok.” He cautioned. Something unreadable flickered in his fearful expression. “If there is something we need to talk about, let’s. But please think before you take on this project-”

“I’m doing it,” Hoseok said firmly, shoving the script at his Manager and watching as the scrawny boy struggled to keep the papers intact. “I want the writers called by tonight with an acceptance. We start work as soon as they wish.”

With that dramatic flourish Hoseok turned on his heel and stormed out the hotel door, down the elevator and right into the comforting leather seats of his chauffeured black car.

“To Kkyungies,” he instructed the silent driver as they pulled away from the curb. “Make it quick. I’m starving.”

A kitchen.

The ambient sound of sizzling oil fills the air along with the indistinct mumblings of Korean radio. Hung on the walls are countless family pictures – a few shots detail these, one of a young boy in a football jersey, another of him with his face painted at a circus – and the wallpaper is speckled flower. It seems cosy if a little small.

Two people fill up the cramped space. One is a woman obviously aged and the other is the same blonde boy as the opening sequence.

The boy's mother has grey hair. She stands, eyes kind and yet condescending, stoking the scrambled egg on the stove. The boy seems too big for the patchwork chair he sits in and the mottled kitchen table he leans on.

They talk. His mother asks where he went and the boy describes how he simply wanted to see the place he grew up. It's changed, he says, blonde hair falling over a scrunched brow. It's smaller.

At some point the mother calls the boy by his name.

Wonho.

It is quickly established by expositional script that Wonho is twenty-two years old. After his four long years at college he has returned home, tired and quieter than when he left, unable to find a job in the big city and still left chasing his identity after school. Wonho doesn't talk much - he seems constantly lost in thought. Occasionally his perfectly straight teeth chew at his pink tinted lips or his eyes glaze over with words left unsaid.

Two car doors echo through the cosy Korean home. Wonho’s head shoots up and he stands, on edge, as if waiting for somebody to walk through the door.

His mother smiles and mentions that it must be the new neighbours.

Wonho’s face falls and the aging woman reaches up to pat his back not unkindly. Don’t worry, she says, wrinkled smile entertained. Father will be home soon.

Morbid curiosity seems to fuel Wonho as he turns down his mother’s offer for salted egg and instead makes his way slowly into the darkened living room to peek out the white lace windows. Down the red brick steps of the suburban house and across the meticulous green lawn, a boxy red ford sits humming on the road. Its windows are tinted. A large-framed middle-aged man seems to be unloading boxes from the open boot.

Wonho watches.

The scene moves to his view of the lawn.

A boy appears from the car.

It is difficult to make out what he is wearing. Clever camerawork obscures a straight view, but it is clear he wears all black with hair too long and boots so big they cast a shadow in the heavy summer sun.

The camera cuts to Wonho’s eyes.

They are big and glitter orange in the sunlight before a white lace curtain falls over the screen.

“I cannot believe you are doing this,” Minhyuk grumbled to his side. A heavy bag was slung on his back and he grasped two stacks of paperwork and a flask of Hoseok’s favourite coffee in his arms – Eventile with two and a half sugars and exactly sixty millilitres of milk. “Is this it?”

Both of them stopped dead in their tracks. Despite the watery sunlight of spring just barely filtering through the blanket of clouds in the sky, the disdain on his managers face at the sight of the studio building was obvious.

Even Hoseok could not deny the grimace that painted his features as he scanned the run-down lot. In all fairness the structural integrity of the building seemed intact and the shiny silver material that lined the modern corners exuded modern sci-fi vibes, but despite the obvious effort it was hard to top the towering skyscrapers and mass metropolis studios Hoseok was used to walking in and out of. In comparison to his multi-million-dollar deals, the quaint studio of ‘X-Clan-5’ was relatively unimpressive.

“Uh, yeah?” Hoseok said uncertainly, fumbling with the brand new phone a marketing deal had provided him with as he attempted to enlarge the map. “It says here we’re at our destination.”

Minhyuk sighed, obviously exasperated, before straightening his back and turning to Hoseok.

“This is your last chance to back out of this.” He said while attempting to juggle the confusing mass of objects carried in his slim arms. “If you decide to go in that building – which, by the way, looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in a decade and really needs a new exterior design – then I will give up all my objections and support you through what will ultimately be the end of your respectable career.”

After his manager had finished speaking Hoseok raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You done?”

Minhyuk nodded, face pained.

“Good. Now follow.”

Inside the building was as unimpressive as the outside. Without the usual soaring windows or plush silver stools he was used to it seemed empty to the blonde actor, although he had to admit the red carpet and navy walls were somewhat to his liking. It seemed like a repurposed dance studio – something Hoseok would know since he had learned amateur ballet for his hit movie ‘Dance with me’.

He had made two billion won with that deal – but really, who was counting?

“Oh my god.”

The high-pitched voice shocked him out of his reverie and flighty Minhyuk jumped so high the coffee almost fell from his hands.

Hoseok’s lazy, curious eyes landed on a man stood in the backlit doorway to what looked like an audition room. White hair fell over blue eyes in an attractive side parting and the beige shirt he wore fitted wide shoulders and a tapered waist with ease.

“Uh.. hello?” Hoseok offered simply.

“It’s you. It’s actually you,” the man babbled, running up to take his hand and clasp it between sweaty palms. Hoseok grimaced and retracted his arm but the man seemed to pay him no mind. “I’m Jooheon. Jooheon Lee, at your service. I’m one of the-”

“Writers of the script, yeah, I know,” Hoseok finished helpfully. While Jooheon seemed perfectly nice, he couldn’t help the prickle of awkwardness that ran up his spine at how reverently he seemed to be openly gaping. Hoseok liked being famous, but not quite worshipped. “It’s a.. a nice place you’ve got here, I guess.”

“Oh my god,” Jooheon’s shining eyes disappeared behind a smile as two deep dimples pierced his cheeks. “Kihyun! Kihyun, he said we have a nice place, can you believe it?”

“He’s just saying that for filler, Jooheon!” Another slightly pitched, melodic voice echoed through the small entrance and shortly after the owner made an appearance. Smaller than Jooheon, the man had good proportions and a pointed face – all angles, his cheekbones raised smooth skin and sharp eyes fit sharp lips. “He’s an actor, he’s good at bluffing.” With that, Kihyun turned and offered an outstretched hand. “I’m Kihyun, the other co-writer. It’s lovely to have you here.”

Hoseok was thankful for how poised he was and shook his hand gently.

“It’s lovely to be here.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying-”

“It’s a shithole,” Kihyun stated nonchalantly and Hoseok gaped at him in muted surprise. Never had he heard a writer talk to him like that – they were usually quiet, reserved and respectful. Hidden behind large glasses and the promise of a hefty paycheck if they treated Hoseok well. “But it is our home. We work day and night here, can’t help but be fond of it.”

That was.. different.

An awkward swollen silence filled the air before Kihyun offered a business-like smile and said, “Anyway, come, come. Let’s talk.”

He turned on his heel and disappeared deeper into the building, promptly followed by a sheepish Jooheon who flashed him an excited grin as he went.

Somebody behind him cleared his throat and Hoseok rolled his eyes.

“Stay,” he instructed and Minhyuk sighed melodramatically before gingerly lowered himself down onto one of the foyer seats and watching as Hoseok followed.

If there had been any doubt in his mind that the studio was repurposed from a dance background it fled the moment he reached the next room. Mirrors lines one wall and the ceiling was low and dark, complete with a ballet barre along one side and a polished wooden floor. In the centre a long table had been set up covered in planning notes, proposals, maps and finances.

Hoseok listened intently as Kihyun talked with passion. Both Jooheon and Kihyun seemed to work well together, bouncing off their ideas and reigning the other in if they went too far. The small writer explained that Hoseok need not audition for they knew he was capable at acting thanks to his recent role in ‘Highlander’ (At which point Jooheon interjected with a rambled speech of “Oh, and Dance with me! And Foul Mouth, and The Hunger Trials, and Galaxies Greatest and One Night With You and Up Upon A Star-” before Kihyun quickly cut him off) and Hoseok couldn’t help the pride that swelled in his chest and puffed up his posture. While most of the way these strange two worked was alien to him at least he was still the most famous.

To the actor’s surprise Kihyun and Jooheon seemed incredibly organised. Despite the slim chances that Hoseok would even read their proposal, let alone accept, they already had multiple schedules planned, locations booked, weather mapped and even staff on hold. It seemed to Hoseok that they had been ready to begin working for a prolonged length of time and, as it was with most movies, were simply looking for the perfect person to cast as the main role.

“Unfortunately.. we are not the richest company. I am afraid we cannot pay you with the multi-million dollar deals you must be used to,” Kihyun explained dejectedly. “Pay will depend solely on your participation in that, should you garner enough attention for this project, profits will be split between us.”

Hoseok nodded in understanding and Kihyun seemed relieved. It wasn’t like he had been expecting much. He already had all the money in the world.

“How big is the cast?” He asked, peering over at the messy table in front of him and picking up one of the scripts out of curiosity.

“There are five people in total.”

“Five?” Hoseok looked up in surprise.

“Yes, five. You and the other main lead, as well as your parents.” Kihyun frowned, condescending, as his judging gaze rippled down Hoseok’s body. “You have read the script, right?”

“Of course I have,” Hoseok scoffed. “I’m famous, not an idiot.”

“You do know what the movie is about, right?” Jooheon interjected with hesitant, searching eyes. “You read the summary?”

“Yes, I did that too.”

“You know… what your role entails, right?”

Hoseok nodded. “Mm. It was quite clear, but I’m prepared.”

The white-haired writer swallowed thickly around a lump in his throat, opening and closing his mouth before eventually letting words slip through. “Even… even scene eight?”

“Even scene eight,” Hoseok confirmed. His lack of hesitation was obvious. “All of it. I don’t want body doubles or- or deceiving camera work. I want to act all of it. All of it.”

“Hmm.” Kihyun pursed his lips and cocked his head to the side, the cogs in his head almost visibly turning as he thought. A beat of silence ensued before the small man turned to his co-writer and dropped the bombshell. “Look, Jooheon, I’m not convinced this is our guy.”

“What?” The word of disbelief echoed from Jooheon’s mouth. Mirroring his confusion, Hoseok looked up in surprise.

“Well, he just.. he’s too perfect. Too modelled. Too… too mainstream.” Kihyun spat the word bitterly as if it hurt for him to say it. “I know we wanted somebody big, somebody to bring in the media and really propel this into making a statement, but… but I don’t think Hoseok is right. I’ve never seen him act in a movie that wasn’t just a spiel of phrases already used countless times coupled with shitty CGI action sequences.”

Hoseok was insulted.

Genuinely insulted. Did Kihyun not think he was capable of a role with actual character? Was his image one of such complacency, such a cheap sell-out that even so much as the thought of him conveying emotion was soured?

“He can act, Ki. You know he can, you’re just blinded by your arrogance-”

“I am not! I’m simply saying that Hoseok here isn’t the right man to play our character-”

Their argument grew muffled as Hoseok’s mind turned his words over and over. Inside of him grew anger, passion, a hungry need to prove himself. A need he hadn’t felt in so long, a need that had been stamped out by countless movie deals and premiers and long nights in hotel rooms.

A need to change the world.

A fire sparked inside him and Hoseok knew what to do.

“Hey, look. Ki, Kihyun, Yoo, whatever your name is,” He began suddenly and the other two looked up at him in surprise. “I know I seem like the cookie-cutter idol type, really, I’m aware. But.. but I can act. I know I can, it’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at.” At that the smaller writer scoffed and the action fanned the flames inside him. “You need me to blow this project out into mainstream news, and I need you to give me an outlet to show how good of an actor I can be. To finally prove myself above countless love triangles and.. and shitty CGI.”

The moment the hesitant swear word fell from his lips both writers seemed to blink at him in surprise. It was obvious that was not what they had expected.

Jooheon spoke next.

“Ki, you said yourself there was no harm in sending the proposal to him. And look, he’s here. Here in all his wide-shouldered, muscley-armed, handsome chiselled jawness-” The writer grimaced as Kihyun elbowed his side and shook his head to collect himself. “Sorry. What I mean to say is.. is he’s here. That in itself is a miracle. Isn’t this what we wanted?”

Kihyun’s sly, probing gaze still echoed scepticism. “We appreciate you coming down here, Hoseok, really. We know you must be busy, being this big star and all, but… but I have one question.”

“Go for it.”

“How do we know you’re taking this seriously?” He asked accusingly. “You are the biggest star in Korea right now, and this.. well, to put it lightly you may never get a job again. Why do you want to do it? When it could ruin your career?”

Pause.

Gentle breathing drifted along the heavy atmosphere of the room. All three of them stood, facing one another, expressions frozen in anticipation as Hoseok seemed to work through his thoughts. Why was he so passionate about a project such as this? Why was he so determined to do it?

“You guys are trying to do something here. I want to be a part of it.” He answered after a moment of silence. “I’ve been in countless movies with the same plot, same crew, same everything. This- this mindless carousel of job after job that doesn’t mean anything. Just blockbusters pumped out of the machine to generate the biggest paycheck to everybody involved. You guys don’t care about money-”

“Speak for yourself.”

At that Hoseok laughed and Kihyun seemed startled. “What I mean is, you don’t care about making the most money. This isn’t a competition to you, it’s a chance to make something truly great. To be part of a movement and to actually change people.”

Another pause. The blonde actor took a deep breath after running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sick of mindless acting.” Hoseok lamented finally. “I want to change people. Change the world, and this?” - he held up the script for emphasis - “This is the masterpiece I want to do it with.”

Silence.

“I can see why they call you a good actor,” Kihyun quipped, but the dimpled apples of his cheeks were pushed up in a smile all the same. He seemed pleased if a little proud of himself. Had provoking Hoseok into emotion been his plan all along? The actor wasn’t sure whether to be glad he fell into the trap or not.

“So?” Jooheon probed, wrapping a casual arm around the smaller man’s shoulders. “Is he our Wonho?”

Teetering on the edge of anticipation Hoseok waited with breath held for the answer. Somewhere deep inside of him grew a passion, a small fragmented remnant of the boy he had used to be burned, set alight with newfound worth.

And then, slowly, surely, Kihyun smiled and held out his hand.

“Welcome aboard, Lee Hoseok. Don’t let us down.”

The passing of time is shown through lighting. Gentle orange hues stream through the white lace curtains and highlight the pink wallpaper. Only the beginning rays of warm sunset create that kind of colour.

Now, Wonho sits alone in the living room, staring at an empty space on the wall with his eyes glazed over. There is no expression on his face. It is assumed he is awake.

At the slam of a door outside and raised voices his head turns, brow furrowing as his mind returns to reality. For a moment he seems to observe his body, rub at his neck with a grimace that implies pain, before slowly forcing himself to stand.

As he does the camera pans to his mother who lightly pops her head into the cosy living room with an apron tied around her waist and a washcloth in her hands. She seems eager and involved in her sons’ actions although the undertone of worry is present in her forced smile.

A conversation occurs. The woman pats Wonho’s face, fusses him for a few moments while he remains unamused and disconnected before she fixes his collar and smiles.

His mother insists he introduce himself, draping a jacket over his shoulders and shoving him towards the blue front door. Wonho rolls his eyes but, after a few feeble attempts to resist and an excuse about needing to unpack his old clothes, reluctantly accepts the jacket and groans before heading out the door.

He does not wear the jacket. He leaves it on the doorstep for later.

The shaky camera follows his journey down the path. The lack of music frames the quiet suburban lifestyle with the distant cars rumbling as he approaches and the crunch of healthy grass underfoot.

When Wonho finally reaches the street there is a silent pause. The same boxy Ford as before is shown, this time with a view of two stickers in the window and scratched leather seats. The only difference is that the boxes in the back have been removed.

Footsteps are heard.

The camera spins.

It is now you can see the boy properly.

His jeans are ripped, torn across the knees and thigh skin poking through. Undyed, black hair falls in spindly tendrils reaching his shoulders and his pretty eyes are drowned in Kohl. Perspiration glitters on his skin from the sun which beats down from above and he seems to have hacked off the sleeves of his band shirt to bare his tan shoulders to the sky.

For a second it seems as if Wonho has disconnected from reality. He stares, eyes obviously catching on the black eyeliner and checkered red fabric belt before he clears his throat and holds out his hand in greeting.

The strange boy ignores the gesture.

Instead he chews his pink bubble-gum, drags his stare from Hoseok’s feet to his head until the latter shifts uncomfortably, and then spins on his heel to head inside.

Wonho looks at his outstretched hand in something close to confusion before brief anger flashes across his face and he lets it drop.

The scene cuts to a wide birds-eye view of Hoseok walking back into his house.

The street is quiet once more.

Hesitation was not needed, and yet Hoseok employed it.

His pale finger hovered over the screen of his new-model phone as his stomach turned with unbridled anxiety and his teeth chewed absentmindedly at his lip.

There was no reason for him to be so nervous. Above everything else Hoseok was an actor. He was paid to initiate virtual connections with those around him, to completely embody an entirely different person and the emotions within.

The reasoning behind his fear was unfounded. Countless movies and acting deals had led him to become so desensitised to the act of kissing, loving, being with another person that it didn’t bother him anymore. It was a part of his job.

Perhaps it was the nature of the film that cast him into rocky uneasiness. Never in his life had he embodied such a character and so his finger hovered over the search bar indefinitely, waiting for courage to flood his limbs and the page to load the results for his co-stars' identity.

The person who would be playing his love interest.

The Daniel to his Wonho.

Hoseok remembered how Kihyun and Jooheon had shared a hesitant look between themselves when Hoseok has asked about his co-star. The apparent caution had sprinkled uneasiness in the churning mess of Hoseok’s stomach and reinforced the entire absurdity of the situation. He was used to picking exactly who to work with, not having people falter over informing him of said person he would be falling in love with on screen.

“His name is Im Changkyun,” Kihyun had explained slowly, dithering on each word. “He’s.. a close friend. Usually works in Indie films.”

“So an unknown?” Hoseok remembered how he had looked up with an easy smile. That was to be expected.

Kihyun had given a strained laugh and pat his back. “Yeah, an unknown.”

Now Hoseok sat in a plush cushioned chair as bright artificial lights beat heavy on his smooth skin and danced off the orange glitter of his eyelids. A makeup artist was delicately dabbing concealer against the dip of his right cheek while a hairstylist carefully folded the soft fall of his blond locks around a curling iron set on low to achieve the soft waves Hoseok was known for. Preparation for red carpets and public appearances usually took a few hours and so the actor was used to sitting on his phone for the duration, allowing the stylists to work, pointing out flaws in their actions and scrolling through articles about none other than himself. Seeing dating rumours and airport previews made him scoff – everybody was so obsessed with the Big Star that was Hoseok and yet the man himself felt nothing but bored emptiness.

That was, he usually felt bored emptiness.

When he finally pressed the button to search his co-star's name he felt nothing but nausea-inducing fear.

When the pictures finally loaded Hoseok’s found he couldn’t breathe.

Changkyun was beautiful.

Beautiful in that untouchable way. Not friendly like Hoseok had been described on multiple occasions, not handsome enough to encourage trust with a simple charming smile and head tilt. No, Changkyun was ethereal, delicate eyes framed by dark hair, tan skin, bridged nose and long feline lips.

The information box showed his age – twenty-two, born January 26^th in the year 1996 – along with the few credits to his name. Most of them were unknown Indie films characterised by lots of darkened covers, pretentious names and small cast. Furthering Hoseok’s anxiety was the fact most of them were scandalous in one way or the other – underground scripts based around sex or drugs or booze. Frankly it was intimidating. Hoseok was not used to those kinds of concepts.

Rubbing his sandpaper tongue against the dry roof of his mouth, the actors' curiosity was piqued by the glaring link of his social media. He didn’t hesitate to click this time.

Scrolling through his co-stars Instagram left him with this weird tingling in the tips of his fingers. It seemed Changkyun lived a life unlike one Hoseok had ever seen in the competitive acting world of Seoul. Pictures upon pictures of parties, a few of fresh tattoos, lots of nightlife and neon signs. Most of them were not in focus – as if taken drunk or without a care – and despite the roughly three-hundred images uploaded not one had been taken at daytime.

One particular photo caught his eye near the bottom of his feed.

It showed the blurry outline of two people illuminated by a shaky flash.

One of them was Changkyun. The other? A man Hoseok could not name.

Changkyun had his hands in the man’s hair with a smile on his face while the stranger snuck hands under his top.

They were kissing.

Hoseok’s heart skipped a beat.

Never has he seen somebody so blatantly… obvious. It was frankly terrifying to Hoseok who, for the entirety of his career, has spent his time avoiding scandals about matching couple bracelets. He wouldn’t dream of dating, let alone posting affection so publicly and – most importantly – doing it with the same sex. It was completely, absolutely absurd.

Hoseok was so lost in his disbelief that he hardly noticed his fingertip hovering dangerously close to the screen.

He did, however, notice when the picture flashed red as he liked it.

Panic immediately surged in his body as he hit the button again, undoing the disaster he had caused accidentally.

Phew. That was close.

A mistake like that could have caused the end of his career before the movie scandal had even begun.

With long exhale Hoseok gingerly set down his phone and let the stylists work without another interruption.

It would be okay. It would all be okay.

Later that week the actor made his way to the X-Clan-5 Studio for the first script reading dressed in unassuming jeans, a shirt that cost more than his first ever house and a wristwatch that glittered with gold. Minhyuk was not in attendance as he was busy meeting with media marketers and so Hoseok made the long trip alone, greeting an overly enthusiast Jooheon in the repurposed dance studio with a charming smile and nodding at the business-like Kihyun as he took his place at the rickety plastic table on a fold-out chair. While he shouldn’t have been bothered by the lack of refreshments or catering he was pleasantly surprised by the packets of biscuits and coffee set out for everybody. It was no twenty-four-hour banquet with the personalised menu Hoseok was used to but at least the cream crackers tasted good.

At some point the door opened and heavy footsteps sounded on the wood. Hoseok jumped up in greeting and turned to find himself watching a large man walk through the door. Dressed in a white shirt, slacks and a neat bowtie complete with messy grey hair, he looked young and stylish, if a little father-like. Kihyun and Jooheon gave him happy smiles and a brief greeting. Was this his co-star? The stranger seemed far too big to play a nineteen-year-old.

“I’m Hyunwoo,” the man said, grasping Hoseok’s outstretched hand and shaking it firmly. The smile that painted his face was kind and lidded eyes gave way to an easy sparkle in dark irises. “Son Hyunwoo. I’m the Director, a friend of these two. It’s lovely to be working with you, just lovely.”

Not his co-star.

The relief was undeniable.

“Nice to work with you too.” He smiled in response and shook his hand firmly. “I’m Hoseok.”

“I know.” Hyunwoo gave a sparkling grin and promptly placed himself in the chair at the head of the table. “You’ve worked with some of my most loved directors. Say, if you don’t mind spilling business secrets, what is Cho Mishun like in real life?”

“Really goddamn annoying.” Hoseok grinned, letting casual charm leak into his friendly voice and causing Hyunwoo to guffaw loudly and slap his hand on the table. Despite his large build the man seemed to maintain many cute mannerisms.

“I knew it!” he said, victorious. “All the good Directors are.”

The colloquial atmosphere of the entire situation briefly eased Hoseok’s jittery nerves. For some reason he was not prepared to meet his co-star, not prepared to lay his eyes on the delicate features of Im Changkyun in the flesh and blood. When the door opened after a long, modest silence the two writer’s heads shot up with brilliant smiles echoed on dimpled cheeks but all the actor could do was grimace and wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans.

Be professional, his mind told him, scolding him for acting like an amateur. He was the Lee Hoseok and he had no reason to be nervous.

If Hoseok had been dumbstruck by the beauty of Changkyun through his screen, he was not prepared for real life.

The boy walked into the dimly lit studio like he belonged there. Black jeans hugged slim legs and a pressed black shirt embroidered with white skulls was tucked neatly into a leather belt with the top two buttons undone in order to flash the silver chains on his chest. Clunky rings littered delicate fingers and leather encircled his wrist – a peek of ink could be seen across the skin of his upper arm and neck and the only makeup he wore was eyeliner.

If Hoseok would have described him in any way, it would have been ‘Goth Professional’. Whatever that was.

Kihyun and Jooheon were greeting Changkyun as if he was a long-lost brother. There was lots of back slapping, exclamations of laughter and comments about getting old. Throughout the entire encounter Changkyun maintained a sheepish embarrassed smile as the older men pinched his cheeks and complimented his haircut.

It was almost kind of cute.

All of a sudden Changkyun’s searching eyes landed on Hoseok’s and the actor jumped up, surprised and a little flustered at having been caught staring.

The boy’s gaze was piercing and hinted at amusement.

“So it’s really you, huh?” he asked, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, it’s really me,” Hoseok grinned, attempting to turn up to charm with a hundred-watt smile and kind offer of a hand. There was no reason to be nervous and he swallowed down the spiked anxiety with difficulty. “Lee Hoseok, at your service.”

“Hmm.” Changkyun stared at his outstretched hand with a coy smile toying at his face before dragging his heavy gaze back up to Hoseok’s face. “Cute.”

And with that he brushed past the actor’s shoulder and took his seat at the table.

Hoseok stared at his outstretched hand in surprise. Never before had anybody, co-worker or otherwise, refused a handshake with him. He was the Lee Hoseok, people would pay ten thousand won just to touch his hand.

Hoseok returned to his chair in awed, offended incredulity, watching suspended in disbelief as the actor called Im Changkyun flicked through the script casually and chewed on a lemon tart biscuit.

Unbelievable.

After a moment of awkward silence the sound of Kihyun clearing his throat echoed through the room.

“So, uh, shall we get started?”

Hoseok was quick to realise that, while Jooheon and Kihyun were a sharp contrast of real-life personalities – one small and shrewd, the other loud and infectiously happy – they seemed to fit together as a writing duo perfectly. Each line of script was so well written Hoseok was left in awe; the flow of the movie was unlike any he had ever seen and the atmosphere maintained just from the stage directions was unparalleled. There were no dramatic declarations of love, cut-scenes to exaggerated villains or choreographed, heavily computer-generated fight scenes.

Rather, it was gentle. Poignant. Scenes rose in a soft crescendo that Hoseok was unfamiliar with – instead of blatantly obvious tension it was a tender simmer beneath words. Passion could be found woven intricately into every line and not lumped into a forced battle at the end.

It was undeniably beautiful.

Hoseok found he connected with his character of Shin Wonho more than he thought he would. Despite the movie being set the year he was born there was something in Wonho’s lack of engagement that truly spoke to him. He was flawed, lost, floating in a world that kept moving on without him, suspended in a place between childhood and adulthood. Hoseok understood and he felt for him.

As they danced through the script the blonde actor couldn’t help but let his gaze flicker up to the mysterious Changkyun. The boy had great expression and embodied the character of Daniel Kim like he had been born to play it. Each teasing smile, swollen pause and mysterious answer was laden with emotion, something hidden behind each line. Hoseok knew then that Jooheon and Kihyun had written the part for him. There was no other man to play Daniel than Changkyun.

“Hoseok? Your line.”

The words jerked him out of his daydream and he sat up suddenly with his cheeks growing hot as he realised he’d been caught staring.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry,” he mumbled, flicking through the script in front of him to try and find his place. A small snicker emanated from Changkyun’s vague direction and Hoseok clenched his teeth in flared anger before a serious look from Kihyun quieted the sound. “I… Uh-“

“Line four-three-five,” Changkyun said and Hoseok shot him a venomous look before finding the right number on the page.

“I know,” he replied in a vague attempt to remain calm, carefully creasing the fold of the script before launching into reading; “It’s not safe to be out this late. Pretty people get hurt alone on the streets all the time.”

The script detailed a ‘pregnant pause’ in which ‘Daniel, pleased, fiddles with the stopper to the bottle.’

“You think I’m pretty?” Changkyun said with a small, contented smile playing on his face.

Hoseok swallowed thickly and looked up at him only to find big brown irises staring back over the packets of biscuits and tea.

“What?” he choked out, before ‘grimacing at the outburst’. “No. I mean- yes. I mean…” Wonho sighs, defeated. “Nevermind.”

The reading lasted for hours. Kihyun and Jooheon worked diligently rearranging the script, highlighting parts that seemed forced when spoken out loud or writing in scene directions as they observed Hoseok’s and Changkyun’s chemistry. There were nine of them in the cramped room – the two main actors, writers and Director as well as the main cameraman and the cast of the parents (who all seemed to be from the same unknown company and turned up late to a lot of cheering, laughter and the offer of biscuits). When compared to the cast of thirty of more Hoseok was used to working with it seemed infinitely small, if a little pathetic, but everybody fed off the casual, friendly vibes and Hoseok, while finding himself slightly out of place, enjoyed himself greatly. The actress playing Wonho’s mother was a lovely lady with a croaky laugh who at one point even ruffled his hair.

Hoseok was not used to having his hair ruffled although he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

It was past midnight when they began trickling out of the room. The script reading had been a success and Kihyun and Jooheon consulted with Hyunwoo for the last few minutes before solidifying a start date for filming with the cameraman.

Two weeks.

Two weeks until they weren’t just reading the script but acting it.

Hoseok didn’t know if he was ready.

The blonde actor was so caught up in his organisation, neatly folding his highlighted script into his Gucci bag and smoothing out the creases in his jacket that he wasn’t aware of somebody else’s presence until said person cleared their throat loudly.

“So you like my Instagram, huh?”

Hoseok jumped, surprised, and spun to face the source of the voice.

“What?” he asked, taking in the glow of Changkyun’s dewy skin under the dim lights as well as the fitted cut of his black shirt. He seemed to fit perfectly into the low-lit, angsty background, a coy smile playing on his face as he stood in the doorway and watched Hoseok pause in the act of putting things into his bag.

“The picture from seventy-two weeks ago? Of me kissing Taekwon?” Changkyun continued and Hoseok felt his stomach sink deep into the ground below him. “You liked it.”

Hoseok swallowed.  “No, I didn’t,” he said firmly, although they both knew it was a lie. How had Changkyun seen? Had the app notified him?

Changkyun smiled. “Yes, you did.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did.” The younger actor’s voice was stained with amusement and that only fuelled Hoseok’s irritation. When he leaned closer to speak, Hoseok swore his heart stopped beating.  “What’s pristine pop star Lee Hoseok doing liking pictures of boys kissing online?”

“It was an accident.” His cheeks burned with embarrassment and anger as he forced out the words. How dare this… this unknown talk down to him like that? Especially as he was both an elder and superior. It was absurd.

“Did you like what you see?”

Hoseok choked on air and he jerked his head up with wide, unbelieving eyes as his mouth fell open in shock. “That’s- that’s unprofessional-“

“You’re working with me for the next two months.” Changkyun grinned and talked over him. “We have to kiss. Should I put that on my Instagram too?”

Hoseok gaped at him, bag in hand and expensive phone in the other, mind wiped blank at the rude brashness of the younger boy.

“I can’t believe I already hate you,” he whispered to himself. Never had he talked to anybody so insufferable.

“You hate me?” Changkyun laughed. “I should hate you!”

“Hate me? For what? Actually dragging your unknown movie into the spotlight? Giving you a name?” Hoseok rolled his eyes and swung his bag on his shoulder. “Oh, sorry I’m the only reason this movie is being made in the first place.”

At that Changkyun scoffed and crossed his arms. “We don’t need you. In fact, I would quite like to make this movie without kid-friendy cookie-cutter Lee Hoseok getting in the way.”

Ouch. That hurt.

“Yeah, well. I don’t particularly want to be here either.”

“Ah! That’s where you’re wrong.” Changkyun held up a hand to stop him from walking out the door like he had been intending to. A teasing smile played on his delicate features. “Kihyun told me your manager practically begged for them to let you do it. That you were adamant about completing this movie to every last line.”

“You’re unbelievably rude,” Hoseok stated in disbelief and attempted to move past where he blocked the door. “I’m leaving.”

All of a sudden there came a warm pressure on his chest and Hoseok looked down, shocked, at the hand sat splayed across his pec.

The action caused his cheeks to blush a hot, embarrassed red.

Changkyun smiled when he noticed.

“Cute,” He said quietly with white teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. The word enough to force fiery anger into the blonde actors’ veins and he clenched his jaw, pulled away from the touch and stormed out of the building like he would never look back.

Hoseok let out an ashamed groan as he sat in the back of his sleek chauffeur car, burying his head in his hands with regret and tugging at his own hair.

Unfortunately, he had already signed the movie contract last week – there was no getting out of it now.

He was stuck with Changkyun whether he liked him or not.

And he definitely did not like him. Not one bit.

Wonho's father returns that night.

He is nervous. It is implied through the delicate, insistent tap of his chopstick against the China of his mother's best bowls and the way he shifts in his chair. 

The table is set for three people.

Only two are there.

A steady shot watches the clock on the wall as the second hand ticks at the rate of a slow crawl. It is half past ten.

Halfway through the silent meal the sound of keys being turned and a door creaking open echo through the dimly lit kitchen. Wonho jumps up suddenly and turns to face the doorway. His mother gently wipes her face with a white napkin before doing the same.

A tall man shuffles into the room to the sound of his clothes rubbing. He is dressed in a black suit and blue tie, shoes polished, briefcase in hand. The man is characterised by short black hair, stern features and wrinkles around his tired eyes.

For a few moments the shaky shot focuses on the reunion of husband and wife. A quiet, traditionally domestic relationship is established through the way the grey-haired woman kisses his cheeks, removes his jacket and takes the heavy briefcase from his weathered hands.

When the camera pans to Wonho he is shown waiting, almost teetering forward on the balls of his feet in nerves. There is an unsure smile on his face and his hands are clasped in front of him as he greets his father for the first time with a small bow and a welcome home.

A pause follows in which Wonho’s smile falters slightly at the lack of reaction before his father eventually nods in response and offers him a greeting and then turns back to his wife.

By the elated way Wonho’s face bursts into the most beautiful, sunshine grin when the old man turns away, it is clear this lacklustre reaction is both unusual, unexpected, and incredibly loved.

After a few moments they are all seated at the table once more. No bowl is empty.

They eat in murmured almost-silence. His mother compliments his fathers' suit and gets a grunt in reply. The man, in return, says the kimchi is nice. The small compliment seems to lift the atmosphere greatly.

It doesn’t take long for his father makes to make a passing comment about Wonho’s lack of employment.

Tension blossoms in the small kitchen like a red rose growing thorns.

Wonho stutters briefly, shoulders seizing up in fear as he explains that he is simply using the hot summer to rest at home before moving to the city and taking up an office job in accounting.

His father hums. No emotion is shown.

His mother forces a kind smile and she caresses Wonho's clenched hand in an attempt to smooth out the tension. They share a look – Wonho’s eyes wide and vulnerable, his mother’s forgiving and understanding. It seems this is both a tender and familiar topic.

After a dragging pause his father mentions that he already had a job at nineteen and was married by twenty.

Wonho doesn't reply. 

They eat in silence.

Nothing more is said.

The tension hovers in the background of each next scene. It flickers like a growing flame beneath cold, quiet dinners and between any interaction Wonho has with his father. The passing of time is shown through the change of his clothes and rise and fall of the sun. Casual, stunted conversation takes place on occasion. A shot of a flowery calendar shows that a week has passed since Wonho first returned home.

An establishing widescreen shows the emptiness of their living as the three of them sit. The radio buzzes with silence. Wonho’s mother darns a hole in one of her stockings with pretty brown thread. His father massages his temples as he scans the neat papers on his lap. Nobody talks.

Eventually, when Wonho announces he is going to bed and stands to follow suit, his father grunts and makes some murmured comment about work.

Wonho freezes.

He never freezes, but this time he does, a medium shot of his back showing tight fists and tense, upset shoulders.

The fight escalates quickly. Wonho says something about how his father has no right to comment on his life when he is hardly home anyway. His father retaliates calmly and the soft spoken way he demeans his son seems to make Wonho grow mad. His mother tries to diffuse the tension by setting down her sewing and standing in a hurry, offering his father some herbal tea before indicating to her son that he should hurry upstairs to bed.

They both ignore her.

Wonho shouts at his father accusingly, ranting, picking up his papers and throwing them to the ground. For the first time that evening the old man raises his voice and hurtful words spill from his mouth about how his son should never have come home.

Wonho stops suddenly. He is panting, angry and upset, eyes glistening with enraged tears. The distressing atmosphere of the small room is escalated by the flickering yellow light and the coldness of the brick walls.

A brief realisation crosses Wonho’s face and he exhales tightly, jaw clenched and nostrils flared, before he turns on his heel and storms into the hallway.

His mother asks where he is going with a heartbroken shout.

Wonho yells that he is ‘finding a job like his father told him to’ before slamming the door behind him.

The cool, dark blue hues and gentle cicada hums are a direct contrast to the angry red of indoors.

The anger drains out of Hoseok’s body the moment the silence takes over.

Meandering down the street with hands shoved in pockets he kicks at the ground and his face shows a lack of emotion while the camera follows his walking.

Then he stops. The camera stops with him and it is implied through the focus of his pupils and the widening of his brown eyes that he has seen something.

It is the boy.

The boy he met outside the week previously. The one who’d just moved in next door.

The one who’d rejected his handshake.

He is sat on the curb of the empty tarmac road. The inky darkness of night does nothing to hide the black shadow of his clothes or the tan skin under the rips of his jeans. Instead it almost seems to emphasise them along with the slim width of his shoulders and the limp mess of dark hair.

Wonho hesitates, wary eyes scanning the silhouette of the smaller boy before the stranger turns around. There is a bottle in his hand and three rings on his fingers.

They stare in silence for a heavy moment, before the boy blows a bubble with his pink bubble gum and asks what the shouting had been about.

Wonho stares.

After a moment the boy rolls his eyes, takes a swig and turns back to stare at his feet swinging on the road in front of him.

The silence stretches on for what seems like aeons as the camera catches the bewilderment, fear and reluctance crossing Wonho’s tired pale face

Then, finally, Wonho asks what the boy is doing.

The boy shrugs.

Wonho frowns and asks if his family know he’s alone drinking in the street at night.

The boy tells him to shut up and sit down.

Surprises flashes across Wonho’s handsome features at the lack of respect from somebody obviously younger before, slowly and with obvious hesitation, he does.

They talk. It starts slowly at first, with the boy offering him the bottle of what looks like Soju and Wonho taking it and chugging a few desperate mouthfuls. His face scrunches up in a grimace and he coughs at the bitter flavour.

The boy’s lips twist with amusement.

Wonho asks the strangers name.

The boy smiles bitterly.

Daniel. His name is Daniel Kim.

Wonho listens intently as nineteen-year-old Daniel Kim tells him how he moved from America last week. His mom lives there, he says with words bitter and spiteful, in the Summer State of California where the beaches stretch for miles and girls wear tops that dip as low as their sternum. His delicate face is blank as he picks at the weeds growing through the cracks in the road and says that his mother grew tired of his black clothes and attitude and shipped him off to conservative Korea until he learned some manners.

Wonho nods, understanding, before taking another swig of the alcohol in his sweaty palms. He comforts Daniel with careful unsure words and Daniels big eyes swathed in dark kohl listen intently to every word. It seems to unnerve the older boy and he stutters on occasion.

Wonho says that his family think he’s a waste of space too. That they dance around him with mean words and bothered glances like he should just grow up and -

Get a job already.

When Daniel finishes his sentence Wonho gawks, surprised and a little wary, before he breaks into an amused laugh at the small shy smile on Daniels' face.

Yeah, he says with a grin. Get a job already.

They sit in silence for a long time after that. It grows colder but neither of them seem to mind.

When Wonho looks dejectedly at the empty bottle in his hand and says he should go Daniel sighs and kicks at the ground.

The younger boy says that he can always come back here whenever his family shout again. He is there every night.

Wonho hesitates. Curiosity is implied in his expression. Fear and reluctance are also shown. It is clear this type of relationship is unknown to him and also strictly forbidden.

Then he smiles and stands up.

Maybe, he says, before disappearing into the night and leaving Daniel alone on the side of the road.

A final shot shows Daniel hugging his knees to his chest, heavy-lidded eyes filled to the brim with emotions the audience can’t name.

Even though Hoseok found the younger actor completely insufferable he would be a fool to deny Changkyun’s talent.

That boy could act.

Hoseok’s schedule was increasingly busy with the workload of premiers, interviews, variety shows and the secret movie filming. Minhyuk had advised him that they were holding back on the announcement of the deal until filming was well underway and the excitement could build. It almost humbled Hoseok how wonderful Minhyuk was being even though he was basically planning the fiery downfall of both their careers – he had taken on the role of making the most intricate, wide-scale scandal Korea had ever seen as if he’d been born to create drama.

Because of the lack of time, sleep and patience, Hoseok was frequently late to filming. The writers seem understanding, if a little peeved, but it was Changkyun who offered nothing to the blond actor. Despite his edgy appearance and constant bored expression he turned up to the filming location at the exact specified time, going through makeup and hair and outfit before Hoseok had even started his journey. That, combined with the fact that Changkyun never appeared in a scene without Hoseok, led to a wall of contempt building up between them. Hoseok didn’t care. The younger boy’s pretty face was annoying and uptight and made his blood boil.

Despite all this, however, the moment Hyunwoo’s deep voice echoed ‘Action!’ in the dark street at night or small living room set, Changkyun immediately fell into character. The amused quirk of his lips smoothed over while his eyes grew lidded and pained and he was an expert at adopting unique mannerisms such as tugging at his sock or blinking rapidly whenever his line indicated surprise.

The first week of filming went smoothly. Hoseok found he enjoyed working with the amateur cameramen especially with Hyunwoo directing him. With ‘Boy’ being character driven, not story driven like Hoseok was used to, he was given a lot more creative freedom to invest in his acting. Kihyun and Jooheon praised him for it especially and at one point on the fifth day – after they had just filmed an intense fight between Wonho and his father - the smaller writer came up to him and apologised for doubting his acting during the casting.

The apology filled Hoseok with pride – he really could do this.

Until one day it all came crumbling down.

Like most films the scenes were filmed out of order based on availability, weather, set times and the like. It just so happened that the filming of their first kiss was scheduled for the second week of shooting, well before Hoseok and Changkyun had been acquainted beyond brief moments of stilted conversation between takes and the occasional late evening goodbye.

Hoseok was nervous. All that morning sitting through a conference for his companies audition process, all through the journey to the set and his hair and makeup and clothes. He was so nervous, in fact, he wiped his sweaty palms not on his branded jeans but on the personalised leather of his chauffeur car. Why had he agreed to this movie again? He was not prepared for this. Not prepared to kiss a boy.

Not prepared to kiss Changkyun.

He’d never kissed a man before and he was embarrassed to admit he was scared.

The kiss happened at night, sat on the side of the road with alcohol like most of their scenes were filmed. The bottle Hoseok clutched in his hand was really filled with water and there were heat packs stuffed in his shoes to keep his toes falling off in the cold temperate of early Korean spring.

The actor had read the scene over so many times he could repeat the stage directions off by heart.

Wonho and Daniel sit. They talk. Daniel looks at Wonho. Wonho looks at Daniel.

Daniel kisses Wonho.

Wonho shouts at him.

End scene.

It was a lot easier said than done. Sat huddled on the side of the road with bright lights being shone at them from all angles and multiple cameras inducing sweat on his forehead Hoseok found it very hard to think about anything but how to escape.

“Action!” called Hyunwoo and both of them fell into character.

Except Hoseok didn’t, not really. All through the scene his lines felt stilted and rehearsed and his heart threatened to beat out of his chest.

When Changkyun’s cold hand landed on his cheek he jerked backwards suddenly.

“Sorry,” he breathed when an audible groan came from behind the camera at his rejection of Changkyun’s touch. The actor next to him rolled his eyes and returned to his starting position.

“Again!”

He took a deep breath and steadied his sweaty hands. It felt as if ants were crawling all over his body and digging their mandibles into his shaking skin.

It would be okay. All he had to do was act. Hoseok was good at acting as he had been doing it all his life – Kissing Changkyun should be as easy as kissing Soyou or Jisoo or Sunmi during all the movies he had filmed. It was no different, right? Lips were lips, this kiss didn’t mean anything.

However, when Changkyun turned to grab his face and leaned forward for the second time, Hoseok jerked backwards once more.

The groan from behind the camera was even more exasperated as Hyunwoo yelled cut and Hoseok quickly untangled himself from Changkyun’s hold to stand up and step back In panic.

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I- I can’t-”

“Hoseok!” Kihyun yelled from where his slim body was shielded by Hyunwoo. “Can we have some professionalism, please?”

Frustration was evident in his voice and it dug pits into Hoseok’s churning stomach. One glance at Changkyun sat on the floor and the disappointed, bored nonchalance painted on his delicate features caused him to convulse with a fearful gag.

For the first time ever on set, Hoseok turned and ran.

“Lee! Lee!”

They were shouting after him but Hoseok didn’t care. Every hard slap of his shoes on the concrete echoed through the quiet suburban filming location until he came to a stop half a block away, hidden around a corner and behind a bush. The night was cold and his hot air ghosted in front of him while he caught his breath.

Frustrated. Angry. Scared. He felt all three with so much intensity – frustration for not being able to follow through, anger at himself for being such a child, and fear for what it meant. He wanted to kiss Changkyun. Why did he want to kiss Changkyun? The thought made his eyes burn with tears that didn’t come.

The Lee Hoseok – movie star Lee Hoseok, heart of Korea Lee Hoseok, crush of all teenage girls up and down the country and multi-billion dollar face on billboards Lee Hoseok – did not need to take a break from filming.

The Lee Hoseok did not run from a set like a three-year-old child throwing a tantrum.

The remembrance of what had just occurred filled the actor with deep-seated shame and his face screwed up in an angry attempt to stop himself from bursting into failure induced tears. He was The Lee Hoseok, he was the furthest thing from a failure out there. Why couldn’t he believe that himself?

All of a sudden the sound of gentle footsteps permeated the quiet night around him and Hoseok rubbed at his eyes for fear that the person would be Hyunwoo or perhaps Kihyun.

Instead, it was Changkyun.

Hoseok felt like he had been punched in the chest by his beauty when he rounded the corner.

“Hey,” Changkyun said.

Hoseok rolled his eyes and kicked at the ground. “Go away.”

Pause.

Changkyun stepped forward tentatively. His usually bored face was now a mixture of worry and apprehension.

“Look. I’m sorry for being a dick, okay?” He began slowly as if it was hard to find the right words. When Hoseok looked up in surprise at his apology, he smiled a little shy. “I.. I find it hard to act nice around handsome people. It’s a real problem.”

Hoseok frowned.

“You think I’m handsome?” he asked, tone dripping with confusion.

“Obviously.” The rough sound of Changkyun’s chuckle dug under the older actors’ skin and made his stomach turn. “You’re the Lee Hoseok. I almost died when I saw you in person for the first time. Your handsomeness vibes they just- just wiggle into my head and mess with my brain. Ruin all the gay receptors so I can only talk shit.”

Hoseok almost choked when he outed himself so easily. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, turning to look anywhere but at Changkyun.

“I made you laugh though, right?” The attempt at a light-hearted tone fell flat and Hoseok froze when a hand landed on his arm. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay. I know.. this is probably out of your comfort zone. But it’s acting, right? This is what we do.”

“I thought you said – what was it, that I was some stupid ‘idol-type cookie cutter movie star’ and you didn’t need me?” At the mockery Hoseok employed his acting skills to mimic the youngers deep velvety voice.

The sound caused Changkyun to throw his body forward in an elated laugh and his nails gripped tighter on his bicep.

Hoseok’s heart skipped a beat but he didn’t know why.

“Maybe I was a little grouchy that day. So what? I had the biggest hangover and couldn’t feel my feet.” Changkyun turned Hoseok to face him. His eyes were wide and vulnerable in the moonlight, the knowing underlay of his open expression utterly deceiving to the blonde actor. “Trust me. If you trust me not to go too far, to follow the script and play by the rules, this’ll be so much easier for you. For both of us.”

Hoseok thought for a second, turning over the words that had just been pumped into his turbulent brain, before he sighed and offered a cautious, “Okay. I’ll try.”

He was still scared. Still overwhelmingly, completely and utterly, soul-breakingly scared. So scared it hurt to breathe. So scared it hurt to look at his co-stars face.

“C’mon, cookie cutter boy.” Changkyun tugged on his arm with soft humour leaking into his deep voice. “Let’s go act gay for money.”

The silence stretched on for a while until, unexpectedly, Hoseok spoke. The words fell out of his mouth without meaning to as if they had rushed past the pilot in his mind and jumped from his tongue without a parachute attached to their back.

“I’ve never kissed a boy before,” he blurted suddenly. When Changkyun froze and turned to look at him, his eyes were guarded and closed. Careful. “I don’t know how.”

“You’re an actor, Hoseok,” Changkyun deadpanned. “Have you ever taken down a dystopian government in real life? Ever flown through space with an alien companion as part of your daily routine?”

Hoseok’s breath caught in his throat. “No,” he choked out.

“Exactly,” Changkyun replied softly. It took a moment for Hoseok to realise what was happening but by the time the elegant hand stuck with rings had been placed on his cheek it was too late. “It’s acting. Like… like this.”

Changkyuns lips were soft when they pressed against Hoseok’s. The older man didn’t know what to do, eyes wide in surprise and arms rigid and straight by his side. He had never kissed a boy before. Didn’t know how to react.

Eventually Changkyun’s calming presence eased the tension out of his shoulders. He relaxed into the gentle touch of the other boy and he slowly let his eyes flutter closed at the comforting warmth of lips against his own.

Then Changkyun pulled back and the magic spell cast around them was shattered by the cold of the night.

“See?” Changkyun breathed, trying to sound nonchalant despite the flicker of his eyes and flush of his cheeks. “Acting.”

“Acting,” Hoseok breathed in agreement.

“Cute,” Changkyun whispered, before turning on his heel and heading back to the set, leaving Hoseok to follow.

A few minutes later they had finally returned to location to the sound of relieved sighs and a few teasing hollers of the main actor’s dramatic tendencies. At that Changkyun laughed.

“It’s true!” He defended his laughter when Hoseok shot him an offended look, only to almost stumble into the camera man when the blonde actor teasingly pushed him away as a punishment.

That night Hoseok filmed the kissing scene without needing a break.

Daniels' lips tasted just like Changkyun’s. Like peach and cinnamon and the warmth of coming home.

After the first night sat alone by the side of the road it seems to become a regular thing.

When Wonho returns the next night dressed in baggy jeans, a large overthrow and hair falling over his tired eyes, Daniel doesn’t look up to greet him. Instead, at the sound of footsteps in the quiet night, he holds up the extra bottle he bought and motions for Wonho to sit.

This time Daniel wears a woollen black pullover and shorts. His feet are still stuffed into Doc Martens and one of his fingernails is painted black.

A shaky shot shows how Wonho stares at the fingernail for a very long time.

As they get to know each other their meetings evolve wildly. At first they simply sit in silence occasionally interspersed with cautious words. Then they learn to make each other laugh. It is shown that Daniel has a weird American sense of crude humour and that conservative Korean-born Wonho finds it hilarious whenever he cracks a joke. They begin to grow loud, rowdy. One night together, when Hoseok is wearing yellow and Daniel’s T-shirt shows a blooming rose, they dance in the middle of the street to Daniel singing Nirvana with a drunken slur and laughter threaded through his deep voice.

Through their conversations more is revealed. About how Daniel ran away at 17 to go a punk-rock concert halfway across the country and his mother filed a missing persons report. About how Wonho studied economics at college but secretly took a class in botanics. About Daniels love of grunge and dirt and Wonho’s wish to make his father proud.

Daniel says he wants to be a rock star when he’s older.

Wonho says he wants to be happy.

Daniel feels that. It is obvious through his understanding nod and closing of his eyeliner-ringed eyes.

He wants to be happy too, he says quietly, sidling up to Wonho on the sidewalk.

Wonho doesn’t say a word when their shoulders brush or Daniel rests his head of black hair on his shoulder. The camera catches the surprised way he looks at the younger boy before he smiles, a little drunk, a little sleep deprived, and wraps a gentle arm around him.

They almost fall asleep that night together on the side of the road.

Instead the rising of the sun wakes them from their drowsy slumber and they hurry back to their houses in silence.

Minhyuk breaks the news to the world later that week.

Co-ordinated with the announcement of the movie by Kihyun, Jooheon and X-Clan-5, Hoseok reveals in a video with the rest of the cast that he would be staring in the up-and-coming indie film with Im Changkyun called ‘Boy’ and that he was very excited to show their hard work to the world.

The country went into shock.

Hoseok got multiple calls back to back, some from people he thought were friends, some from directors and castors and interviewers, all cancelling upcoming appearances, telling him their contract is over or that they won’t ever speak to him again if he continues to associate himself with ‘the other side’.

Unfortunately, Hoseok found it very hard to care. He had always been bored with his extravagant lifestyle, but this? This was excitement and danger beyond his wildest movie star dreams. This was wild. This was scandalous.

He found it increasingly hard to care, in fact, when Changkyun was the one laughing about it.

Getting their makeup done together and going through the long process of styling or lighting changes or script editing meant the two Stars could grow closer together. Hoseok discovered that, while the dark-haired actor could be a little insufferable at times, he was actually rather funny. He especially enjoyed making fun of the outraged world-wide reaction of the Korean movie star taking on a project that was ‘Gay’.

“Look!” Changkyun erupted into a fit of giggles as he scrolled through his phone on set one night while they waited for Hyunwoo to return from an important call. There was a red-carpet picture of Hoseok from ‘Highlander’ promotions on screen next to the image from Changkyun’s Instagram of him kissing Taekwon. “’Lee Hoseok’s co-star Im Changkyun in controversial upcoming LGBT movie is a promiscuous, drug taking party goer who had frequently got in spats with other internet personalities.’ They’re acting like I’m the devil!”

Hoseok laughed quietly and picked at his shoelaces from where they huddled on the ground together as a woman touched up their makeup. “Maybe you are the devil. Are you corrupting me with sin, oh Promiscuous Changkyun?” he teased.

Changkyun grinned the same grin that sent heat deep into Hoseok’s stomach and put down his phone to gently tap the powdered tip of the blonde actor's nose. “Nope. Haven’t turned you gay yet.”

The younger boy laughed at his own joke before turning back to scroll through the updates on his phone.

Hoseok chuckled awkwardly. Something uncomfortable simmered beneath his skin but he chose to ignore it.

Filming went on later than usual that night. They were polishing up scenes and re-shooting some which meant a lot of clothing changes, lighting-checks and makeup adjustments. As per usual Hoseok’s chauffeur turned up at the designated time of 2am and waited silently on the corner of the street while they finished up and the time dragged onto three in the morning.

Hyunwoo left at three along with most of the crew, trundling home exhausted in whatever transport they had availabe. Hoseok stayed for an extra half an hour with Kihyun and Jooheon as they re-wrote a few of his solo scenes and talked him through the right actions to practice before they re-shot it the next day and, as the heavens opened and the rain started to pour, they bid farewell and Hoseok hurried to his chauffeur with his phone telling him it was 4am.

However, just before he clambered into the vehicle, somebody on the corner of the rainy street caught his eye.

It was Changkyun.

The small-framed boy was huddled on the concrete with wet hair stuck to his forehead and slight shiver wracking his body as he punched numbers into his phone. Hoseok watched as he hugged the woollen blanket further around his body and cursed at his phone before groaning in defeat.

After a quick glance over his shoulder at his chauffeur, Hoseok gingerly stepped forward.

“Hey,” he said softly. The sound caused Changkyun to jump and wide, surprised eyes smudged with eyeliner turned up to meet his gentle stare. “What’s up?”

For a second it seemed as if the boy was teetering on the edge of some sarcastic rejection, the mean words flickering at the end of his tongue before he sighed and looked down at his phone. “My friends bailed on me,” he explained quietly. “I have no way to get home.”

“Can you not like… call a cab or something?”

“Didn’t bring my wallet,” he shrugged in response, obviously avoiding eye contact. Sparkly beads of rain dripped down his face. “Besides. Not all of us are rich movie stars who can afford that.”

The insult was not filled with malice but rather sadness and it left Hoseok feeling awful. He didn’t think he took advantage of the money he had in a bad way but he was rarely grateful for small luxuries.

After a longing glance back at the sleek black car waiting for him and the sulky, hostile posture of the freezing boy in front of him Hoseok made up his mind.

“Come back with me,” he said firmly.

Changkyun looked up in surprise. “What?”

“There’s room in the car. Come back to my hotel.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Hoseok challenged, gesturing to his soaked attire. “You’re freezing and can’t stay out here. My hotel is warm. There’s only one bed but Kim can get us back in ten minutes if he drives fast.”

Silence.

Hoseok sighed at the other boy’s stubbornness.

“Just get in the goddamn car Changkyun,” he muttered softly.

Changkyun opened his mouth for a final time as if to protest but Hoseok rolled his eyes, gently took his wrist and tugged him back to his vehicle. The younger actor didn’t say a word.

The ride back was quiet and awkward.

Changkyun sat shivering in his seat two across from Hoseok, the gap between them stagnant with uncomfortable but polite ignorance. Throughout the entire ordeal – instructing the driver where to go, listening to the gentle beat of pop through the radio, checking in at the expensive hotel lobby (which Changkyun seemed entirely fascinated with) and being escorted to his room, the younger actor stayed quiet. His observant eyes scanned every detail around him but he refused to say a word.

“You’re rich,” he said quietly the moment they were alone in the room.

“Obviously,” Hoseok scoffed before grabbing the bundle of clean fluffy clothes placed by the maids on the drawers and handed them to the younger boy who took them gingerly. “Here, put these on. You can go clean up in the bathroom. I’ll inform the attendants we’ll want double the breakfast in the morning.”

Changkyun looked at the soft lemon-smelling clothes in his hand and back to the gorgeous red wine Hoseok had poured himself in order to ease him to sleep.

“You could be my sugar daddy,” he said suddenly. Hoseok, startled, spat out the crimson liquid all over the white carpet which caused Changkyun to burst into a fit of uncontained tired giggled. “Sorry. Bad joke?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Hoseok shook his head but a fond smile toyed at his face as he threw a white towel over the stain slowly seeping into the floor.

“You like me really.”

At the statement Hoseok looked up, cheeks already red with blush and eyes wide without realising, only to find the other boy had disappeared into the bathroom and he was left alone.

They were quick to get into bed.

At first Changkyun set his soggy clothes cautiously on the glass table by the white couch and unfolded the fluffy brown blanket thrown over the edge. Hoseok watched, confused and endeared by the quiet way Changkyun smoothed out the pillows and moved them around as if he had no idea what he was doing.

Then it dawned on him and he burst into laughter.

“Changkyun!” He called, smiling when the younger boy jumped and looked up in surprise. Hoseok pat the bed beside him and grinned. “Do I smell that bad?”

“What?” the actor frowned before his eyes widened in disbelief. Then he grinned. “Wow, asking to share a bed so soon? Maybe I really have turned you gay.”

“Fuck off!”

“Wow, cookie-cutter boy swears now?” Changkyun taunted, only eliciting further laughter from his co-star.

“Just get into bed Changkyun.”

“Whatever you say.” Changkyun grinned and mischief sparkled in his brown eyes. It was only when the boy began sauntering over to the white covers and placing his hand first on the mattress that Hoseok felt like he had made a fatal mistake.

Hoseok’s heart jumped into his throat as Changkyun - inexplicably unashamed Changkyun - began crawling onto the plush double bed in front of him. With each dramatically feline placement of his hands and knees Hoseok felt his heart beat faster and body reel back until he was leaning against the headboard and his cheeks burnt like a raging forest fire no human could put out.

He swallowed thickly as his eyes caught on the skin exposed by the white woollen sweater he had given Changkyun to wear as it hung around his small frame.

Changkyun paused, damp hair messy and ruined, amused grin on his teasing face and eyes focused on the part of Hoseok’s lips before he spoke.

“Cute,” he said and then rolled over onto his side of the bed.

It took a few moments for Hoseok to return to his body from the floating foggy place he had disappeared to in fear. There was the strange feeling of intoxication beating through his veins after hearing Changkyun’s deep voice whisper so huskily near his face and it was only as he regained some control over his body did he realise his hands were gripping the covers in his tense fists.

He took a long deep breath while he reminded himself that Lee Hoseok did not get flustered by boys before slipping under the covers and clapping his hands gently to turn off the lights.

After a moment of hesitation in the dark, he choked out a strained, “Night Changkyun.”

“Night cookie-cutter boy,” came the reply and Hoseok grimaced.

“Stop calling me that.”

“In your dreams.”

Changkyun fell asleep almost immediately. The slow levelling of his breathing as each exhale grew longer as well as the relaxation of the mattress as his tense body crawled into unconsciousness eased Hoseok’s anxiety.

Until, of course, he felt warm arms wrap around his back and legs entwine with his.

He froze, scared. Changkyun was asleep. Why was he hugging him while asleep? Should he wake him up?

“Changkyun?” he whispered to no reply. “Changkyun?”

“Mmm?” the drowsy hum that echoed in the darkness was right by Hoseok’s ear and he shivered.

“You’re, uh- you’re hugging me.”

“Mhmm.” Changkyun’s voice was tinged with a tired smile and he tightened the grip around Hoseok’s stomach. “You’re warm.”

Oh.

Hoseok didn’t know what to do with the increasing speed of his heart or the lump of anxiety in his chest at the touch. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like somebody had sucked all the oxygen out of his lungs and left them to collapse in on each other painfully slow.

He felt like he was living and dying all at the same time.

Hoseok had never felt like that. He didn’t know what it meant.

Hoseok didn’t tell Changkyun to move. He let him cuddle him until he too fell into unconsciousness, relaxed into the warmth of another man and the smell of peach and cinnamon and cold damp hair pressed against the back of his neck.

It was nice.

When Wonho and Daniel fight it happens on the side of the road where they usually sit and drink.

For once when Wonho joins the younger boy on his sidewalk seat, neither of them say a word. It is strange how they fall into comfortable charged silence. Daniel has black eyeliner streaks down his cheeks as if tears have dripped and dried across them. It is assumed he has fought with his father once again.

Wonho asks him what’s wrong. Daniel doesn’t say anything and picks at the bottle in his hand instead.

Wonho insists he tells him, mentions that he’s worried, a statement reflected by the wideness of his eyes and searching gaze that scans Daniels withdrawn demeanour.

Once again Daniel remains quiet.

Wonho continues talking. He talks and talks and talks, a noticeable contrast to the quiet boy shown in the start of the film, as he asks again and again what is wrong and how he can help. Did his father shout at him? Did his mother finally call?

And then, all of a sudden, Daniel turns and kisses Wonho.

It happens so quickly it is almost a blur on screen. The camera catches the way Daniel’s delicate hand slides along Wonho’s cheek, how Wonho’s eyes grow wide and his body seizes up when their lips collide before he pushes Daniel off him with a cry and jumps to his feet.

Daniel stares at him from the ground. There are tears in his eyes and fear painted on his face.

For the first time ever, Wonho raises his voice at Daniel. He shouts and he rages and he throws down his jacket. He yells that that was uncalled for and utterly gross and disgusting and completely unfair. There are tears in his eyes and he looks more upset than angry.

The camera cuts to Daniels' face. He watches Wonho’s outburst with no emotion. He looks small.

When Wonho turns on his heels and storms back into his house, Daniel starts to cry.

He cries for a long time after that. The camera catches it all.

By the end of the next filming week Hoseok’s scandal had gone worldwide.

The difference between the Korean reaction and the worldwide reaction was tangible. The general public shunned him, his job offers dropped like flies and his limited number of friends disappeared from the face of the earth like they never existed to begin with.

However, every cloud had a silver lining, and pretty soon Minhyuk began getting multiple calls in English. The poor boy’s multilingual skills were lacking to say the least but he bumbled through with his sunny voice and gentle hums, booking the actor interview after international interview and scrambling to find a translator to assist him.

“You’re really trying to do something here,” Minhyuk said one tired night after Hoseok had returned to his expansive home for a few days of vacation between filming takes and editing. “And I think it might be working.”

Happiness blossoms in the pit of Hoseok’s stomach alongside the white flag of hope flying high in his brain.

Maybe he really could make a difference. Maybe he could change the world.

The next morning he was called in for an early reshoot by Jooheon due to issues that had arose whilst editing and he entered the work place glowing with pride. This was where he felt most at home – surrounded by Jooheon trying to open his can of Coke and Kihyun sat hunched over a script so scribbled on it was almost unrecognisable as paper. He belonged between the cheap cameras and young camera men and Director Hyunwoo as he brushed biscuit dust onto his jeans and attempted to direct the lighting crew with crumbs pocketed in his cheeks and puffing up his lips.

When Hoseok turned to the makeshift taped area set up for styling in front of the singular crew caravan, however, his world came crumbling down.

Changkyun was talking to another man.

He was handsome. Tall. Small head complete with a perfectly proportioned face, round button nose, large eyes and plump pink lips. Shimmery orange powder was dusted over his eyelids and iridescent highlight glittered across his cheeks.

As Hoseok watched he saw how Changkyun burst into laughter at something the man said, doubling over in his chair and knocking the makeup off the fold-out table. The man scolded him in an obviously teasing manner and Changkyun simply leant back to blink up at him with wide eyes in the form of a flirty apology.

Anger settled deep in Hoseok’s gut and set his body aflame.

The handsome man placed a hand on Changkyun’s face as he blended out the concealer.

Changkyun reached up to entwine their fingers and offered a lazy smile.

Hoseok decided he’d had enough and stormed forward to interrupt them both.

“Changkyun, can I talk to you please?”

His co-star looked up at him with innocent eyes and nodded. A pretty smile was ghosted across his face.

“Hi!” The handsome man said cheerfully while holding out his hand. His voice was as husky and beautiful as Hoseok feared. “I’m Hyungwon, the emergency makeup artist. It’s nice to meet you!”

Hoseok shot him a poisonous look before forcing an obviously antagonized smile.

“Hey Hyungwon. Could you possibly excuse Changkyun for a few seconds? It’s important.”

At Hoseok’s venomous tone Hyungwon’s face dropped and his eyes hardened but the actor ignored him, instead choosing to wrap his fingers around Changkyun’s wrist, tug him out of his chair despite his protests and drag him up the drive of the house location before pulling him into the empty living room set.

“What was that?” he turned on his co-star the moment they were alone.

“What was what?” Changkyun replied, obviously perplexed. “That was Hyungwon, I told you. Ki said the usual makeup artists couldn’t make it because we called everybody in at such short notice so I called Hyungwon to take over-”

“You called him?”

“Yeah? He’s a friend.” Changkyun shrugged like it was nothing. “We met at a party one time, no big deal.”

“Is he just a friend?”

“Why do you care?” the younger boy asked accusingly, folding his arms across his body in defence. “Actually, why do you care about any of this? Why are you so angry all of a sudden?”

Hoseok scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Does it matter?”

“Yes?” Changkyun laughed in mocking disbelief. “You’re mad at me for no reason. I thought we were friends now?”

“You’re obviously better friends with Hyungwon.”

The statement left Changkyun speechless and Hoseok inwardly cursed himself for being so obvious and not stapling his tongue to the roof of his mouth when he had the chance.

“What a minute..” The dark-haired actor mused as realisation dawned on his face. “You’re… jealous! You’re jealous!”

“Of Hyungwon? Please,” Hoseok rolled his eyes like it was the most absurd accusation in the world and yet his chest tightened with nerves and his heart sounded like a drum in his chest. “He’s definitely had his eyelids done.”

“Oh, and like you haven’t had a nose job?”

“My nose job has nothing to do with you almost kissing the makeup artist in a professional environment!”

Changkyun’s smile suddenly dropped.

Oh. That had made him mad.

“You want to talk about professionalism, Mr. Run Off Crying Halfway Through A Set?” Changkyun snapped.

“At least I’m not out there kissing other boys when we should be kissing each other!”

“This is acting, Hoseok!” Changkyun shouted, voice rising an octave in incredulity. “Acting! It’s all acting! We are not together, our characters are. You are straight, fucking straight as a goddamn ruler, and I am not about to go falling for some straight cookie cutter rich boy who thinks they’re entitled to me because we’re both playing a part!”

Hoseok couldn’t tell if the shake of his hands was anger or fear. “I saw how you were with him, all gentle and close-”

“So fucking what, Hoseok!” Changkyun yelled over him. “So what! I owe you nothing. Why are you even so mad? Acting like you have some big fat schoolboy crush when you don’t even fucking like men!”

“How do you know I don’t like men, huh?” Hoseok snapped. His brain screamed at him to shut up, shut his mouth, diffuse the situation and walk out of there safely but his tongue kept pushing out words. “Have you asked? Have you even bothered to care?”

“Why would I care when the answer is obviously no!”

Hoseok stood still. Anger sizzled in his veins as he stared at Changkyun, the rage slowly trickling down into heavy dread as he watched the realisation dawn on the younger actor’s face like a candle being lit in the dark.

“Oh,” Changkyun exhaled, wide, pitiful eyes landing on his own. “Oh, Hoseok.”

“Go away,” Hoseok said stiffly.

“Hoseok..” Changkyun stepped forward slowly. A gentle hand landed on his arm and the comforting smell of cinnamon filled his senses. “Are you… do you… do you maybe like men?” When Hoseok didn’t say anything he continued. “Is that why you took this job? Are you closeted?”

Each question hit him like a bullet from a gun and left him bleeding from too many wounds to handle. His fearful gaze took note of the sympathy flickering behind Changkyun’s irises and he grit his teeth, brushed off his hand and stormed out of the house set. 

He called his chauffeur and told Hyunwoo he was sick and couldn’t film that day.

If Hyunwoo saw the tears in his eyes he didn’t say a word.

A shot of Wonho in his bedroom alone starts scene eight.

He lies on his bed fully clothed above the covers, hands behind his head as he stares at the ceiling in silence. While it is assumed he is thinking of the fight that occurred a few days ago nothing is shown on his face. He looks entirely blank. Empty.

A knock on the door sounds and he frowns before dragging himself up and downstairs. It is implied by the note on the side and the single pair of shoes by the door that his parents are out. He is truly alone.

When he opens the door the keys jingle with movement.

Daniel stands on his doorstep.

The camera catches Wonho’s surprised reaction. The gentle part of his lips followed by the shake of his pupils. An establishing shot shows Daniel stood in the doorway in nothing but jeans and a loose top, eyeliner dripping down his cheeks like he’s been crying and an angry, fearsome look on his young puppy face.

The silence drags on.

Neither of them say a word.

Daniel asks Wonho if he wants to run away with him.

Wonho says yes.

They steal Wonho’s father’s car. His parents were visiting the neighbours down the road, he explains as he fits the keys in and pulls away from the drive with Changkyun sat in the passenger’s seat, they won’t be back until eleven.

The camera shows the quiet street as the silver car pulls into the road before disappearing off the screen.

Quiet shots of them in the rickety vehicle are interspersed with the rumble of the engine and hum of the radio. Daniel seems to stare out the window while Wonho grips the steering wheel tight with both hands. Neither of them speak.

Brief establishing shots show them pulling into a parking lot lit only by the orange glow of streetlamps and a blinking neon bed-and-breakfast sign. The sound of tires on gravel is the only noise heard.

The motel room is small. One bed, a dresser, a lamp, a mat and a bathroom. Wonho sits on the bed and stares at the wall while Daniel fiddles with the radio in an attempt to find the right station.

When a loud burst of static interrupts the quiet atmosphere Wonho snaps at Daniel to stop. Daniel blatantly ignores him and turns a few dials. His face lights up in a sunshine smile when the crackly metallic sound of Radiohead begins playing through the small room.

Daniel dances.

It starts slow at first. He bobs his head and taps his food before setting down the radio on the dirty windowsill and swaying his body to the lyrics about nothing at all.

Wonho tells him to stop.

Daniel ignores him.

Eventually Daniel makes his way over to where Wonho is sat on the bed and takes his hand to pull. At first Wonho snatches it back like Daniel is contagious, like he harbours some disease he is terrified to catch, but then eventually his face loses it’s open hostility when Daniel cracks a joke about toddlers throwing a tantrum.

Wonho laughs quietly, embarrassed and tired and maybe a little scared, but the whirlwind that is Daniel simply employs his mischievous puppy chin before tugging on his arms and hauling him to his feet.

They dance.

The shaky shot follows how Wonho attempts to loosen up as he moves his limbs stiffly compared to the fluent, passionate angles of Daniels body.

The camera focuses on how Wonho face falls watching the other boy get lost in the music. His eyes are trained on the way he moves, his breath hitching with nerves and possibly something else.

A realisation crosses Daniels' face and he stops suddenly, eyes focused on the older boy, lips parted gently.

The music quietens as the shot focuses on them. Long tense stares intersperse with obvious fear. They are both scared.

The music fades out.

It is only them.

The camera shakes slightly as they approach each other. Notably, it is Wonho who seems to make the first move with a hesitant tilt of his head and eyes trained on Daniels' lips. They dance around the air together for a few long, drawn out seconds, the only sound their nervous breathing and shuffling of clothes.

Then their lips meet.

It is everything.

The camera does not move as they begin to explore. Wonho seems inexperienced but willing, slowly melting into the passion that is Daniel, bringing up a hand tinged orange by the dim lighting and gently slipping it around the youngers neck to get closer. The gap between them closes when Daniel tangles his hand in his hair and they pause, unsure, before indulging in a kiss so passionate it is felt offscreen.

The entire scene is shot beautifully. The warm orange glow of the motel lights dance pretty on their tan skin and the camera follows hands dragging longingly up bare thighs or ghosted down chests. A face scrunched up in discomfort, a hand gripping sheets or thrown back in pleasure. It is implied this territory is new to them both through the way they bash noses as they kiss or giggle when something goes awry. It is young and naive, an exploration of bodies that both of them have never experienced before.

It ends with them tangled in each other’s arms. They are both glistening with sweat. Wonho’s blonde hair stuck to his forehead over surprised, vulnerable eyes and Daniel panting with exertion.

The final shot is from above the bed. The mattress is framed prettily by the clothes on the floor, the glowing lamp and the dirty carpet of the motel. Their skin is the smoothest thing in the room.

They stare at each other.

Wonho strokes Daniels hair back from his forehead. Daniel smiles, happy.

The scene ends.

By the time the Premier arrived Hoseok and Changkyun had not spoken in weeks. Since the spat that had happened during the last days of filming Hoseok had blocked his number and told Minhyuk that – should he attempt contact – he was to deny all access immediately.

Maybe it was a little childish. Hoseok didn’t care.

Sat in the plush leather chair of the Seoul hotel whilst two women dabbed product on his face and a man carefully folded his hair around a hot iron Hoseok tried very hard not to think about Changkyun (to little success). It was the big Premier day and he had no time for regrets.

After talking to Jooheon and Kihyun and discussing practicalities with Minhyuk, Hoseok had managed to pull the last few strings available to him to make this possibly the biggest Premier of the year. Not only were people suitably anticipating the largest scandal of the last decade walking down the Red Carpet, they wanted to make it big. Booking the Yongsan cinema with the largest IMAX screen in the world, bringing in underground reporters, LGBT spokespersons as well as planning the biggest cast afterparty for shortly after the movie screening – why, Hoseok was quite proud of himself. Kihyun and Jooheon were as in awe of the big screen as the actor had hoped. They couldn’t believe that their movie was being Premiered in such a prestigious place after only sending the script to Hoseok as a last-minute decision.

Hoseok (and Minhyuk) had also organised the transport too.

Hoseok and Changkyun would take separate limos. He had made that very clear.

The younger actor was probably the room over getting his hair and makeup done. There was probably a team of people fussing around him, folding his black locks over hair irons and dusting black across his waterline.

Hoseok tried really hard not to care.

By the time he had donned his suit, fixed his tie and smoothed out the winkles of his shirt it was time to go. He thanked the stylists for their work and promised an advanced rate of pay for the evening before he dismissed them.

For a prolonged moment he simply stared at himself in the full body mirror propped against the wall. Unrecognisable from the man he had been on set for all those weeks, this was The Lee Hoseok, Korea’s superstar, the creator of the biggest scandal in decades.

He was about to change the world. He just knew it.

Making his way through the elegant golden corridors of the hotel he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks upon encountering Changkyun. His co-star was sat curled up beside a table in the hallway as if he wanted to hide.

At first Hoseok felt the childish anger dig claws into his throat at the sight of the other man.

And then he heard the sobs.

Small and quiet like he was afraid to disturb anybody. Folded in on himself to hide his face and definitely wrinkling his expensive Armani suit.

Changkyun was crying.

Hoseok’s heart broke into a million pieces and he rushed over to kneel in front of him without hesitation. If his suit was dirtied by the floor he didn’t care in the slightest.

“Changkyun?” he asked, worry staining his tone.

“Go away,” came the mumbled response.

“Changkyun, look at me.”

A beat passed.

Changkyun looked at Hoseok.

The older actor had never seen Changkyun not in smudged eyeliner or heavy eye bags and so, upon the reveal of his Premier makeup and neatly styled hair, he felt all the breath leave his lungs as if he’d been punched in the stomach. He looked ethereal. Subtle pinks and purples were dusted over his browbone, moulding into deep maroons around his eyes to make the orange of his iris pop. His lips were bleeding red in the centre and dusted over with gloss that sparkled in the fancy light of the hotel and his skin was powdered so smoothly he looked like marble.

As Hoseok watched a lone tear fell down his face and took the foundation with it.

“Hey, shh. Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Hoseok was obviously panicked as he opened his arms and tried to guide the younger boy into them. “Tell me what’s wrong. I’m here.”

“They hate me.” Anger and bitterness spiked his broken voice but the fear was clear by the way he reached out and clutched the lapel of Hoseok’s suit. “I- I can’t do it, not in front of all those cameras and press. I’m used to- to being underground not- not this. Did you know there are petitions to make me leave the country? People think I’ve ruined you.”

Hoseok swore his heart shattered into a million pieces.

Changkyun was never affected by anything. Not one thing in the months of knowing the younger boy had caused him to cry. As a matter of fact Hoseok was so used to him reacting with laughter or sarcasm or glee that seeing him genuinely upset over the mean words exchanged on the internet was positively heart-breaking.

“Changkyun? Look at me.” Big teary eyes flickered up to meet his gaze and the pain in Hoseok’s chest only grew. “Remember when you said to trust you? How.. how I didn’t know how to kiss a boy and you showed me.”

A sniffle and a nod confirmed he did in fact remember.

“This is just like that, yeah? You taught me that, so I’ll teach you this.” At the statement Hoseok reached out and gently entwined his fingers with his co-stars shaking hands. “It’s easy, yeah? I’ll hold your hand the whole time like this and you can tug it if you’re not okay. It’s just answering questions and smiling for cameras for an hour before we get inside.”

Changkyuns gaze dragged down to where their hands were weaved together. An unreadable expression crossed his delicate features.

“Promise you won’t let go?” he said quietly.

“Promise,” Hoseok replied and squeezed his hand. When a shadow moved passed him dressed in the uniform of the vehicle-hire company the actor was familiar with he looked up and clicked his fingers to get his attention. “Um, excuse me? Can you inform the drivers we’re sharing a limo now and so only one vehicle is needed.”

The staff blinked at him. “But, Lee, Sir, this isn’t what we discussed-”

“All of you will still be paid for your time.”

“I’m afraid we can’t just change the schedule-”

“Are you trying to tell me, Lee Hoseok, what to do? Do you want to lose your job?”

The assistant jumped and spluttered out an apology before scurrying out of the hallway. When Hoseok turned back to Changkyun the man was looking at him in entertained disbelief.

“You’re such a diva,” he laughed through his tears.

Hoseok rolled his eyes with a grin and tugged on his hand. “C’mon, emo boy. Let's go change the world.”

The limo ride was silent. Champagne glistened in elegant bottles and the polished glasses called to Hoseok but he felt the way Changkyun gripped at his hand the entire journey and decided he best avoid the red wine. He needed to be sober for Changkyun.

Hoseok didn’t think he’d ever done something for somebody else. It was a strange feeling.

The limo was filled by a cascade of steady screaming when they finally pulled up in front of the cinema draped in neon lights. On the one side lay the glamourous world of stardom. The red carpet glittered with golden threads, hundreds of men and women lined each roped side armed with cameras and microphones and the fans with signs screamed Hoseok’s name as the limo approached. In the distance he could see Jooheon and Kihyun engaging in an awkward interview with a reporter who’s extensions didn’t match her hair.

On the other side through the tinted windows stood protestors. Hoseok didn’t mind – not really – but he could tell the shouting men and angry signs shook Changkyun a little too much.

Hoseok rubbed his soft palm with his thumb. Changkyun squeezed it in return.

“Wait,” Changkyun refused to move when Hoseok began clambering to open the door and stared down at their entwined hands with obvious perplexity. “We can’t- your career-”

“Changkyun, if I cared about my career I would never have taken this job.” Hoseok deadpanned. “You’re nervous. I’ll keep you grounded.” The fear in his eyes shined brighter than any star and Hoseok offered a gentle smile and squeeze. “Trust me.”

Changkyun did trust him.

Through elegantly leaving the polished black limo, from standing for a moment in front of the lighting flash cameras of camera to the first tentative steps up the red carpet to Hoseok hissing ‘smile’ at the younger actor when the first lady with a camera and microphone came running up to them, Changkyun held onto Hoseok’s hand like it was the only thing he cared about. There were probably red crescent indents scratched into his skin by the pressure but the pain didn’t bother him in the slightest.

“Some people – many people in fact – have been wondering if this is a coming out?” The reporter squawked her fifth invasive question at them while shoving a microphone in their face. “Is Lee Hoseok gay? Is this his way of revealing his inner turmoil to the world and asking for help?”

“As I said before, I don’t need any help-”

“Excuse me,” Changkyun’s soft deep voice suddenly spoke up and the frazzled reported turned to him for the first time that interview. “Hoseok is not gay. I, however, am.”

“Well, we know that!” The lady laughed, strained and high-pitched like nails raked across a chalkboard. “It’s everywhere, darling. Tell me, how often do you drink? Did you ever drink on set?”

“Being gay has nothing to do with alcohol consumption.” Hints of anger snuck into his voice at the ignorance of the woman. “As a matter of fact, I’m quite happy liking men and kissing men, and I’m so so thankful for Hoseok making this whole process smoother. He’s been wonderful.”

“So you two are friends?” The reporter gasped and motioned to the camera to come closer, immediately making Changkyun shy away. Hoseok squeezed his hand. Camera flashes went off.

“Yes,” said Hoseok, flashing the woman the charming smile he was known for. “I’m very close to Changkyun after this whole ordeal. He’s insanely talented and has helped me through everything.”

“Hoseok has been brilliant too!” Changkyun chimed in. “He’s so professional, a true star.”

“Apart from that time I cried on set,”

“Which one?”

They both erupted into laugher.

The reporter seemed a little scared by their chemistry and promptly thanked them for their time.

Without thinking Hoseok wrapped his arm around Changkyun’s back and held his waist above his suit gently.

Changkyun tensed and then relaxed, melting into his side like the warmth kept him grounded.

They went through the rest of the interviews like that with Changkyun tucked under Hoseok’s arm and the reporters always looking at them in blatant surprise. They probably didn’t expect such openness.

Hoseok felt like he was giving a big ‘fuck you’ to everybody around him.

It was the best feeling in the world.

They return after two nights away.

Wonho runs out of money to pay for the Motel and panda-eyed Daniel, although he is shown arguing with the owner of the place about unfair prices and times, reluctantly gathers up their toiletries and shoes at the convincing words of Wonho before trudging to the car.

It is implied they have stayed in the same clothes for three days. It is also implied they slept together the second night as well.

Neither of them mention it – it goes unspoken. Forbidden. Left behind as a memory.

Upon arriving home Wonho gets a celebration. His ageing mother cries in his arms and buries her greying hair into his chest while she sobs that he thought he’d never come home even though Wonho reassures her that he is twenty-two and not fifteen. Even his father, cold and unfeeling and harbouring a superiority complex, pats his son on the back and tells him perhaps he had been too harsh on him.

Wonho’s smile could light up a thousand planets. In that moment he is the sun. Happiness radiates from him in shiny waves and even his eyes glaze over with tears. He is finally home.

The camera pans back to allow Wonho’s mother to stumble over to Daniel. Daniel looks at her, scared and a little taken aback before she grabs his face and plants a kiss on his forehead while thanking him for bringing his son home.

Daniel almost smiles.

Then his father appears and it drops off his face like stone.

His father does not say a word. Wonho’s family watch as the man stares at Daniel until he shrinks in on himself like he’s paper being folded seven times over.

The camera catches the pain in Wonho’s longing eyes as Daniel is escorted back into his house without even saying goodbye.

A few days pass. Establishing shots display how Wonho’s life mostly returns to normal. Besides from the constant hover of his mother at his side and the gentler way his father speaks to him it seems his brief breakdown of running away has been swept under the carpet like it didn’t happen.

That night Wonho goes to the street corner where he usually sits with the other boy.

Daniel isn’t there.

He goes again the next night and Daniel is nowhere to be seen. The worry is evident in the prolonged glance Wonho gives his quiet house.

On the third day Wonho rises early to his parent’s surprise and spends the morning staring out the window. He waits until the boxy ford Daniel’s father uses pulls out of the driveway and speeds into the hot summer sun to make his move.

When Wonho knocks on Daniels door the boy answers in baggy shorts and a top far too big for him.

Daniel tells Wonho to go home. His voice is flat. Empty.

Wonho refuses.

Daniel tells Wonho to go home for a second time.

Once again, Wonho refuses.

Wonho brushes past Daniel and steps foot where he never has before – the younger boys house. It is strangely bare. The wooden floors are dull from lack of polish. No family pictures hang on the walls.

Wonho’s brief bewilderment at the house is cut short when Daniel pushes past him and moves upstairs.

Wonho follows.

They end up in Daniels room. It is as empty as the rest of the house. Despite living there for almost two months the boxes sit damaged and unpacked in the corner of the room. Black clothes are strewn across the floor. There is one poster on the wall – a ripped shot of Nirvana performing next to a few images of pretty beaches and an aged photograph of a woman holding a child.

Daniel tells Wonho he is moving back to America.

Wonho looks up in horror. He splutters briefly before stating that Daniel can’t go back - that he can’t leave him alone, that they are best friends.

Daniel frowns. He says he thought they were more than friends.

Fear flickers across Wonho’s face for a mere second before he is stepping forward and catching Daniels delicate lips in a kiss.

Daniel melts into his arms like he was made to fit.

And then, as if the devil has risen from hell itself, the door slams open with a horrific bang and they both jump apart.

Daniel’s father comes in shouting. Screaming. He gasps at the young men when they scramble to separate themselves and rage grows hot on his face.

Daniel’s nails dig into Wonho’s arms with all the fear in the world.

When Wonho yells back at the old man it is clear he doesn’t expect such retaliation. A strong wrinkled hand grabs at the hem of Wonho’s shirt and yanks him out the bedroom, down the stairs and throws him out onto the street.

Before Wonho can dust off the blood on his palms and launch himself at his lovers’ father the older man yells. Yells bad words, throws them like a knife as the vein in his neck threatens to pop and spill blood all over the green lawn. Wonho shouts back all the obscenities he can muster before the door slams in his face with the final word of ‘Fag’.

It is clear the word affects Wonho. He stands in complete shock and fear with bloodied hands, messy hair and swollen lips on his neighbour’s gravel path.

Then he starts to cry.

He cries staring at the house holding the boy he can’t help. He cries harder when the shouting from inside echoes through the house and the slam of a door is loud enough to move the grass on the lawn.

He cries when the house is blanketed in silence once more.

By the time he has returned home he has not stopped crying. He lies on his bed, fully clothes, tears dripping down his face and straining the quilted bedsheet.

The movie was perhaps the best Hoseok had ever seen.

It was truly beautiful.

He was so used to monotonous scripts, boring action scenes and exaggerated villains that the poignant slow pace of the film was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. Each shot was so complex and careful it was a subtly moulded masterpiece and by the end Hoseok was so choked up with emotions of loss and love that his cheeks were wet with tears.

The audience applauded as the credits rolled.

Hoseok turned to Changkyun sat next to him. His eyes glistened with tears and his face was so, overwhelmingly happy. This was the project they had worked on for so many months. Countless late nights, emergency calls, fights and bad days had led to this moment and it was more beautiful than they ever could have hoped for.

When Changkyun met his gaze across the seats he smiled such a happy smile of spring Hoseok felt his chest constrict and found it hard to breathe.

The afterparty was down the block and they all arrived at the same time, piling into the darkened hall as lights flashed and the heavy thrum of music vibrated their well-dressed bodies.

Halfway through the exchange of expensive alcohol and Hoseok’s conversation with a foreign film crew who Kihyun had invited, the entire room erupted into cheers and applause as Hyunwoo took to the miniature stage with the two writers by his side.

They were both very obviously drunk as they shouted congratulations and thanks to the period cheers of the crowd. At one point Hyunwoo popped a bottle of champagne and Jooheon burst into tears when it ruined his shirt.

Hoseok laughed to himself and took a gentle sip of his wine before a hand suddenly closed around his wrist and he was being tugged to the stage by the small man called Kihyun.

“Wait-” he protested, setting down the glass before it broke and letting himself be carried to the raised platform.

“Say a few words!” Kihyun insisted while shoving a microphone towards him. His usually melodic words were pitched and slurred with alcohol and his smile was giddy. “You made this happen, Lee Hoseok!”

“Uh…” Hoseok stuttered into the speaker to a lot of hollers and cheers as he tentatively held the microphone to his face. “Thanks for everything, I guess?”

“Yeah!” Shouted a barely standing Jooheon from his side and Hoseok watched in amusement as Hyunwoo had to escort him from the stage. When he turned back to the crowd, however, his gaze landed on a pair of very familiar eyes.

Changkyun smiled at him from the crowd surrounded by his friends all dressed in black and Hoseok felt his face heat up instantly.

“And, uh.. thanks to Changkyun, particularly,” he said softly. The words immediately hushed the audience and his co-stars' eyes grew wide from across the room. “He taught me a lot of things and.. and he was right when he says handsome people mess with gay receptors of the brain.”

At the statement Kihyun tugged on his arm before whispering, “Hoseok, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that.. that…” The actor took a deep breath and felt his alcohol-affected brain float so far above his body rational thought escaped him. The spotlight was hot on his skin but the stares burned even more. “That my gay receptors are very suitably ruined by the handsome man that is Im Changkyun.”

A collective gasp echoed through the crowd before people broke into very loud cheers.

Kihyun stared at him in disbelief.

Hoseok shrugged with a charming smile painted on his face and relief flooding his body. If he was honest with himself he hadn’t entertained the thought of perhaps not being straight all that much but it made sense. Changkyun made his heart flutter more than any woman he had ever met and he would be lying if he said he wasn't attracted to him.

“Changkyun, do you have anything you wish to say to that?”

The voice made him jump and Hoseok turned to face the crowd. In it a spotlight had been focused on his co-star and Hyunwoo stood next to him (having apparently tugged a microphone from the stage to force into his face).

Changkyun grinned as his gaze fixed on Hoseok and said, “Cute.”

The audience went wild.

When Hoseok thanked Kihyun for the stage and found his way onto the crowded floor he was surprised and a little scared when he came face to face with the man he had just confessed his attraction to in front of a hundred people.

“Hey,” said Changkyun. There was mischief glinting in his eyes.

“Hey,” Hoseok shouted back over the increasing sound of music with an attempt to sound confident. “I’m staying at the hotel tonight. Come back with me?”

“Hmm…” Changkyun seemed to fake-think for a few moments before laughing and offering a nod. “Sure, cookie-cutter boy.”

Then he disappeared into the crowd, talking Hoseok’s heart with him.

Later that night they stumbled their way into the said hotel room both swaying from alcohol and clutching each other’s sides.

“Do you have something against being a sugar daddy?” Changkyun asked the moment the door closed behind them.

They had somehow managed to make their way back to the hotel despite their obvious intoxication. It had involved a lot of laughter in the chauffeured car with them arguing over which song to play during the five-minute journey and also a fit of giggles in the elevator when they had somehow pressed the wrong button three times and gotten lost twice.

“Not necessarily,” Hoseok laughed while he threw off his suit jacket and popped the first button to dry the sweat from the hot afterparty that had caked his skin. “But I’ve just stared in a controversial movie and also maybe came out, so.. one scandal at a time please.”

Changkyun outstretched his arms and ran them up Hoseok’s before he stumbled and Hoseok just barely caught him with a chuckle. “All of this really means so much to me,” Changkyun said earnestly, dilatated pupils fixing on his face and tongue wetting his lips. “Growing up, I.. I never had a hero. There was never a gay movie, no talk of it even in cinemas. But.. but now we’ve given all the little kids somebody to hold on to. Somebody to look up to. We’re heroes.”

“You’re a little drunk,” Hoseok said with a smile. His gaze was inexplicably fixed on the dimples poking Changkyun’s cheeks. Why had he never noticed he had dimples before? Why were they suddenly the cutest thing in the world?

“So are you!” Changkyun gasped before erupting into giggles.

They were entirely contagious but the alcohol in Hoseok’s system probably didn’t help his immediate laughter.

When they both calmed down into lazy drunk smiles Hoseok felt his heart skip a beat.

Changkyun was still in his arms.

It was only them.

“If I kiss you now, does it still count as acting?” his co-star said. Their noses bumped together as he leaned up to reach him.

"Not if you don’t want it to be,” Hoseok replied quietly.

Slowly, Changkyun’s arms slid up to drape around his neck and fingers threaded through his hair. When he spoke their lips brushed together and his voice was an octave lower.

“I don’t want it to be.”

Then their lips met and Hoseok swore his world exploded.

It was nothing like when they had filmed the scene between Wonho and Daniel. There were no awkward pauses for lighting changes or repetitions to get the right angle. No air of professionalism about how high Hoseok could drag his hand up Changkyun’s leg or how quickly they could remove their clothes.

Instead it was hurried. Passionate. Frantic breathing combined with grasping at skin and the hot press of kisses down necks. Hoseok mapped out Changkyun’s mouth as if he’d never get to touch him again and Changkyun made the most delightful sounds when they moved to the bed.

Halfway through, when Hoseok paused in uncertainty above the flushed younger man, Changkyun’s eyes glittered with understanding and a gentle hand came up to hold his face.

“Trust me,” he whispered.

Hoseok did.

Afterwards, as they lay side by side in the large white bed, Hoseok’s arms wrapped around Changkyun’s back and their breathing beginning to steady, he didn’t think before opening his mouth and saying, “Hey, Changkyun.”

“Yes, Lee?”

“I’m bisexual.”

Pause.

“Hi Bisexual, I’m Changkyun.”

Hoseok openly gaped at the joke and his incredulity only increased when the sound of laughter permeated the air.

“Get out of my bed,” Hoseok said despite the obvious grin on his face.

“Never,” replied Changkyun and snuggled closer into Hoseok’s arms.

Hoseok had never been happier than in that one moment.

He wanted to stay in that frame forever, with Changkyun in his arms and gentle breathing lulling him to sleep.

The next shot is of Wonho alone in his bed once more. The colouring of the screen is now bleaker. There are no sultry warm orange tones reminiscent of the motel room or yellow glow of streetlamps at night. Rather, it is cold. Desaturated. Even the summer sunlight is watery and blue as it streams through Wonho’s closed curtains.

A shot of the scabs on his palms as they lay unmoving on his quilted blanket indicate that some time has passed since the incident with Daniel’s father.

The door is knocked downstairs.

Wonho jumps up suddenly. Like a whirlwind he bolts down the stairs, each heavy foot on the step sounding like thunder in the silent house.

When he opens the door nobody is there.

He scans the empty suburban area with wide, scared eyes.

The gentle rumble of an engine sounds in the distance. A shot of a boxy ford pulling around the corner is shown.

Wonho stares, face empty.

About to shut the door, something stops him.

There is a small package on the stone doorstep.

Wonho picks it up tentatively. Pain and confusion flash across his face as he carefully unpicks the wrapped tissue paper.

Inside is a chain.

Delicate. Silver. The links of the necklace catch the sun as Wonho’s pale hands turn it over and over in the late august sun.

The final shot is of the small heart pendant hanging from the tip of the chain and the pretty way it sparkles with light.

Wonho smiles sadly. His hands closes over the necklace and for a moment he glances up at the empty road before he turns and disappears inside.

The door closes with a small click.

The screen goes black and the credits roll.

When Hoseok comes out with the news of him and Changkyun dating with a photo of their hands entwined on his Instagram with eleven million followers, it was safe to say that jobs would be hard to come by for a while. In fact Minhyuk even called him later that night and said that the last few contacts he had for possible movie prospects had been cancelled within the last hour but then – in something so uncharacteristically Minhyuk – the man said those Directors could ‘go fuck themselves with the stick shoved up their asses.’

Hoseok exploded into slightly drunken laughter at the obscenity and Changkyun – who was held in his arms as they cuddled in bed – did the exact same thing.

Hoseok had finally found a family. In Kihyun and Jooheon, in Hyunwoo and Minhyuk, even in Hyungwon who, upon meeting him for the second time, listened to Hoseok’s prompt apology only to laugh and say he just thought he was a dramatic movie star and that he didn’t take it to heart.

Kihyun and Jooheon (or the ‘X-Clan-duo’ as the media had dubbed them) found work almost immediately. They got calls after calls from studios all around the world just begging for them to write for them. The same went for Hyunwoo who, upon his name being plastered as Director across every ‘Boy’ billboard in the country, began racking up an astounding number of future projects based on his ‘unbelievable grasp of atmosphere’ and ‘unparalleled use of tone’. Whatever that meant.

And Changkyun?

Well, Hoseok thought he might be in love.

In love with the way he wandered around Hoseok’s expensive white house in a dirty band shirt and mismatched socks. In love with the way he couldn’t cook to save his life but made the best pillow forts out of the embroidered Chanel pillows that cost more than his small apartment. In love with his smile and cheap eyeliner and blurry Instagram photos (that he actually spent a lot of time taking and editing, believe it or not).

In love with how soft he felt held in his arms as they kissed on top of the covers in Hoseok’s room, surrounded by giant windows that look out on his land and white carpet stained by wine.

“Changkyun?” Hoseok asked one day as they lay in bed together. The younger man’s hair corkscrewed in different directions and the bags under his glowing eyes hinted at tiredness. “I’ve been thinking-”

“Yes,” Changkyun grinned, rolling over to rest on Hoseok’s chest.

Hoseok frowned. “You don’t even know what I was about to ask.”

“Yes, I’ll move in with you.” Changkyun laughed at the surprise on Hoseok’s face and gently kissed him on the nose. “I thought you’d never ask.”

When Hoseok moved his fingers against his side Changkyun jerked, overwhelmed by the sudden ticklish feeling, and swung his legs over to straddle the older boy in retaliation.

Hoseok blushed. He was still finding it hard adjusting to such blatant displays of affection with men.

Changkyun stared at the red of his cheeks for a long time with a smile teasing at his lips.

“Cute,” he said softly.

The word sounded like coming home.

It takes a long time after the movie has ended for you to regain your rational thought.

When the credits roll and lights come up, you are crying. The tears are hot and wet and salty as they drip down your cheeks and you sniffle before wiping them with the back of your sleeve. The woman next to you offers you a crumpled tissue and you take it gratefully.

A strange sense of loss has settled deep into the marrow of your bones. You feel nostalgic and wistful and so very in love and so very heartbroken. You mourn for Wonho and Daniel and the perfect nights they spent alone in the hotel together. You wish, beyond anything else in the world, that one day they will find each other and be happy again.

People shuffle out of the theatre in a state of suspended sadness. Everybody is floating so far above their heads, swimming in grief and hopelessness and melancholy, that you almost don’t notice it. Almost don’t realise that, while the credits have stopped rolling and the lights have come up, there is the gentle ambient sound of a street playing. You frown when you hear the unmistakable chime of a door being opened in a shop and gasp when the screen lights up again.

Those halfway through leaving stop to stare. You, in your seat, hold your breath.

The first shot is of a bundle of flowers in a store window. The next is of shelves filled with potted plants and soil. A final one, of a quiet TV mounted to the wall, displays the date, time of day and location.

It has just turned ten on a sunny Monday morning. It is the sixth of May, 1996, in the middle of New York, America.

The camera cuts to a man from the shoulders down as he kneels in the corner of the light-filled airy shop. There are thick gloves on his hands and the veins on his forearms stand out as he gently pats the soil around a flower he has just planted.

A necklace hangs from his neck as he works.

A small silver chain with a heart pendant.

It cuts to the man’s face.

It is Wonho. You as well as the cinema audience audibly gasp. He looks older. His hair has been cut but is still a light blonde. He has grown into his large build and now holds it with confidence as he carefully scrawls the scientific name of the flower on the red pot and finishes it with a flourished curl.

Wonho smiles to himself and moves to clean up the mess of dirt.

The door to the shop chimes with the entry of a customer.

Wonho ignores it. It is assumed another worker will attend to the client.

A painful few seconds pass of Wonho still working on the floor and then, slowly, a shadow appears behind him.

Wonho tells the customer he will be right there to help and slowly dusts off his hands. As he sets the plant on the shelf and reties his apron before standing up the entire audience holds their breath.

The camera focuses on Wonho’s face as he turns around. The delicate sunlight wraps around his handsome features as he goes still. His eyes widen, mouth part, and breath exhale.

The camera cuts to the customer.

The boy wears ripped skinny jeans. His band t-shirt is too big although his shoulders now fill out the top. There are inked words all up his left arm and his slim wrists are hung with silver bracelets.

The florist smiles. Disbelief shines in his teary eyes glazed over.

The camera cuts to Wonho’s full face as he opens his mouth to speak.

Then the screen goes black.

A final word flashes ‘Boy.’ before fading into nothingness.

The End.