Chapter Text
The trouble with being half in love with your co-star was every word made you fall that much deeper, every smile felt like a punch to the gut, and they had to remind themselves to breathe, and every inhale and every touch just drove home the fact that he smelled so good, and she felt so good.
Was it physical? That was natural. They tried to think that, too.
But she’d find herself wanting to call him at random hours of the day, just to tell him about something and hear his quip about it, and he’d find himself fantasizing about a lazy day with her, just sitting on a sofa, watching a movie, or taking a walk and stopping by a bistro, lured by the scent of coffee.
So. Even though their eyes and hands always seemed to be drawn to each other and his brain did spend an inordinate amount of synapses on their kisses and wondering about peeling off every layer until she was bare to him like he felt he was bare to her-- this was beyond animal attraction.
Both of them were trying to hide it, suppress it, but it still bubbled up and out.
Whoever said love and sneezing couldn’t be hidden was absolutely right.
They ended up lingering in each other’s space, usually grinning or giggling like fools.
Like now, as they worked out how to share the hospital bed.
It was too easy actually, like how he scooped her up just so for their hugs. He knew where to hold her and she knew how to just let herself lean and fold into his arms.
They were both professionals. They knew how to position and project. That was what they told themselves anyway.
“Can’t we get a bigger bed? We need a bigger bed.”
She burst out laughing. “I was thinking the same thing!”
He laughed, and then he dipped his chin and voice. “I bet you weren’t.”
Someday, she was going to turn all his double entendres on him and see how he reacted. For now she hit his arm. “I just meant, you’re too tall.”
“This bed is eighty inches,” said PD-nim. “You’ll fit.”
They did.
Seamless and instinctual, his arm going around her, both of them just settling close, so close, their breaths mingling.
He counted her beauty marks, one on her right cheekbone, three on her nose, one near her upper lip, two on her left cheek, half-holding his breath afraid she might hear his heart drumming in his chest.
She counted his eyelashes, the dots and lines she could see in his irises, pretending she was studying for sketching, focusing on the tiny details so she wouldn’t forget to breathe because of those eyes.
The PD liked it. Said it was perfect.
Action.
He added something that felt natural: he stroked her hair by her ear. She smiled.
Cut. Done.
They heard the noises of production and people all around them. Footsteps. Equipment being dragged or wheeled. Dialogue. A muffled sneeze behind a mask.
But it was also as if those came from a television or a radio. In another space. Not in theirs.
“Are you falling asleep?” he asked, a quiet murmur only she could hear, and she found herself echoing that softness, that intimacy.
Also mirroring his raised eyebrow and subtle, teasing smile.
“You’re the one who’s tired,” she whispered back. “All the running and standing around with hyung-nim and Jo Yeong.”
Running to her. Scooping her up. Crying into her hair and raising goosebumps at the feel of his breath on her neck and that grin after and in between.
She resettled her chin on his arm and he nodded in answer to the question in her eyes if he was comfortable.
Her gaze went the expanse of the white duvet and down to his ankle, which was on top of the footboard, and she tried not to laugh at his foot looking lost over there. Eighty inches weren’t that much when you were tall and had a pillow to contend with.
“Bend your knee and just rest it on my leg, sunbae.”
“Won’t it be too heavy?”
“No. It’s just one skinny leg. How much could it weigh?”
He thumped his leg over hers in retaliation. She kicked it off--tried to, anyway--and he laughed when she couldn’t.
Around them, the crew was cleaning up and perfecting things, directions were being barked, two people were brushing and tweaking their hair, and at one point, a hand came between them to powder his nose, but everything fell away and there was that quiet between them again.
Well, except for the soft snorts of air as she laughed softly. His nose would always have some sort of joke to her. And he was trying to look stern, which just made her laugh harder.
He steadied her shoulder as she laughed and tried to stop it at the same time, both of them trying not to move too much so they wouldn’t disturb the shot, their legs now perfectly dovetailed to match the perfect alignment of their heads and their faces on their shared pillow, the perfect drape of her hair on his arm, his ridiculous hair engineering with every lock and strand perfectly in place…
And all this time each of them was trying not to dwell on the silken softness of her cheek under his hand, the heat of his touch igniting nerves on her ear that really didn’t need to be going haywire when he wasn’t even moving.
There was also nowhere else to look but at each other’s eyes, and he was really, really trying not to stare at the sweetness and softness he knew was there on her lips. So close.
They heard apologies-- the setup was taking longer than anticipated. They both blinked and acknowledged it without moving.
“Is it okay to nap?” he asked the staff, half-joking. “This bed is quite nice even though it’s annoyingly tiny.” At her smug look at being right that he was sleepy, he added. “And she’s tired.”
She pursed her lips. “I’m not.”
“Get some sleep.”
“No.” Unlike Tae-eul, she said that with some annoyance rather than love. “Contrary to what some people declare for international audiences, I don’t fall asleep as soon as I lie down. Certainly not when I’m working.”
He grinned. She cast that back to him whenever she could. She’d been so furious. And he was still apologetic. “I said I was sorry. I’ll buy you breakfast. What do you want?”
Then it was his turn to laugh because he practically saw her brain whirl to answer that. Before she could, they heard, “All right, we’re ready.”
Not like a switch but more like a subtle ripple, they shifted into character, delivered their lines, let themselves feel and exhibit all the affection and tenderness they tried to rein in when they were in their own skin.
Later, they were going to film Tae-eul and Gon demanding and making sad and nigh impossible promises on a bench. But right now, they were just reunited and grappling with how much and how little fate could change. He was already resolute and planning the attempt. She was pretending to be unaware of it.
One take. A brief cut. And then they shot the scene of her sleeping with him watching over her, patting her shoulder in the assurance that he was still there. She had tucked her face to fully rest on the pillow. Something natural. Everyone did the same when deeply asleep.
They’d agreed this was the best shot, not with her tucked against his chest as the script originally said.
He knew Gon would want to keep looking at her, after days and nights of walking and dreading he might not find and see her again.
And she knew Tae-eul would feel exactly the same.
So they agreed it made better sense to keep that small space between them, just to keep each other in sight until Tae-eul finally fell asleep.
Cut. The setup was dismantled again and everyone tidied up and retreated for the wide shot of the hospital room from behind them past the doorway.
Staying still, he smiled when her eyes stayed closed. She was the sweetest thing.
In her half-sleep, she mentally smiled when his hand stayed on her shoulder. He was sweet.