Chapter Text
WIN was starting to regret accepting a role in a period drama.
It wasn’t because the script was bad, nor that he disliked working with any of the cast. His regret stemmed from one painful realization;
people in the past had suffered.
He could now sympathize with monarchs in the past that couldn’t go a single week without declaring war. Wearing layers upon layers of heavy brocade beneath the merciless mid-June Thai sun was enough to drive anyone to violence. At this point, if P’Tay and Fourth started another atrocious rendition of Photograph by Ed Sheeran, Win was fully prepared to skewer them with his prop sword and deal with the consequences.
The thought was alarmingly tempting.
He sat inside one of the tents at the filming site of Scarlet Heart Thailand, GMMTV ‘s most anticipated lakorn since F4 Thailand in 2021. The entire production was under immense pressure from the agency and general public, scrambling to meet deadlines and expectations alike. The filming site was bustling with staff members running around carrying props, handing out iced tea and assisting actors in their costumes and scripts. His colleagues were scattered across foldable chairs in various states of fatigue, some making idle conversation and laughing while others were doom-scrolling on their mobile phones.
Win looked down at the script in his hands. The dialogues had long ago stopped being cohesive, the carefully printed phrases transforming into squiggly black lines mocking him with rude gestures.
His brain had officially stopped functioning.
He lowered the script and squinted at it. If paper could feel judgement, he hoped the script was experiencing some.
“You’re threatening the script again.” Win looked up. His manager, P’Eed stood nearby, holding a drink and looking far too amused.
“I’m trying to motivate it.”
“It’s a script.”
“Exactly!” Win nodded solemnly while his manager stared. “It needs encouragement,” he added.
“It needs you to memorize the lines.” P’Eed reasoned.
“Well, it doesn’t have to be rude about it.” Win grumbled back.
A laugh came from the chair beside them. One of the staff shook her head while scrolling through her phone. “You sure do complain a lot.”
Win looked utterly offended. “I’m expressing valid concerns.” The staff arched her eyebrow, “You said the costume was personally attacking you yesterday.”
“It is!” he exclaimed.
The staff member laughed again, and Win allowed himself a small smile.
Long filming days had a way of making everyone slightly ridiculous. After enough hours under bright lights and uncomfortable costumes, even the smallest inconveniences became worthy of dramatic complaints. Nobody on set was immune to this.
“Ten minutes!”
The announcement came from outside the tent.
Win lowered the script and looked at the page one last time before closing it. Around him, the break came to an end. Staff members began moving again, collecting what they needed before the next scene. The quiet conversations scattered as everyone returned to work.
Win stood and adjusted the costume around his waist. Before he could leave the tent, someone entered.
“Sorry, I’m late.”
He looked up. Nanon stood at the entrance, fiddling with the sleeves of his costume. “Makeup took longer than expected.” A few staff members greeted him as he walked in. He apologized again, even though nobody seemed particularly bothered.
Win knew Nanon, of course. Being under the same agency meant their paths had crossed more times than either of them could count. They had performed together, appeared on the same variety shows, stood beside each other during award ceremonies, and exchanged conversations in backstage moments. Win knew Nanon the same way he knew many people in the industry. They were colleagues who were comfortable enough to talk, but not close enough to call each other friends.
Nanon continued adjusting the hem of his Chong Kraben, smoothing the silk layers around his waist.
“You’re finally experiencing the costume problem,” Win commented.
Nanon looked down at the layers of fabric around him. “I understand why you complained now.”
Win frowned. “I wasn’t complaining.”
Nanon looked amused. “Right.” Before Win could argue his case, someone called Nanon from outside the tent. He looked over his shoulder. “I’ll see you on set.”
“Sure.”
Nanon left, disappearing into the crowd of staff and actors moving around the set. Win watched him for a moment before turning back to his blasted script.