Work Text:
Snap. Snap. Snap.
The cracking of his knuckles before untangling the strap on his camera. Suho made it his business to crack them to prevent a cramped hand, almost a superstition before working any job. He removed the lens protector and placed it back in the carry bag hanging off his shoulder.
Suho lived and breathed his job. He was always told he had the eye for such a profession, and now that he finally had his hands on his dream camera and a manager with connections pouring out of every orifice, he was living and breathing the dream. No matter where he went, he always brought a camera with him, and in all honesty, it had gotten him in trouble more times than he can count. It also got him a taste of one Korea’s most famed uprising actors. A bitter, bitter taste that resulted in glares and a stitch in his stomach.
Suho liked to think he was rather personable, likeable. After all, there was not a single model that he could not make crack a smile, crack their exterior. There they were, all uptight and nervous about working with such a dashing photographer, and with a few simple words and dashing smile they all felt at ease, and worked with him for the best shots. There was not a single model he couldn’t wheedle information out of, especially when it came to themselves. Suho knew that everyone was secretly desperate to start a scandal (after all, it made them famous) and who better to do it with but a photographer that no one would even suspect.
But, well, everything changed when the fire nation attacked. And Suho meant that literally, the fire nation attacked.
He was hired to take shots of cosplayers at a nearby convention for the convention’s website and social media pages, and Suho (being the darling he was) accepted the offer graciously. He figured it would be a nice change of scenery, and getting his name out in as many places as possible certainly didn’t hurt anyone. He may even get a few jobs with the amount of people at those things. About halfway through the morning, the truly reality of the situation hit him like a Harley Quinn hammer to the face. He spent the day squeezing through kids in their fursuits that cost more than the common man’s rent and about fifty Deadpools over varying heights until it happened.
The Fateful Encounter.
Suho wasn’t stupid. He knew these things were all coincidence and nothing ever happened for a reason, but for some reason it seemed that someone was out to get him. Was it the waitress he accidentally spilled coffee all over last week? Or the man he gave pickles on a burger by accident when he worked as a part-timer as a teenager? Or the kid he accidentally made a meme in the group chat? Suho didn’t know, but those were the most likely contenders at such an event. When he was attempting to push past a two groups of Attack on Titan cosplayers who were all chatting animatedly about the latest manga chapter, he encountered a group of Avatar cosplayers who happened to cause what Suho later titled The Attack and the Grand Schmuck.
It went like this.
Suho attempted to ask them politely and enthusiastically to pose for the website by complimenting their handiwork, and while they did so chatting amongst themselves Suho set up his camera and found the perfect angle for their pose. Just as he was about to take the absolute perfect shot, the schmuck gets in the way. Schmuck was being escorted by security guards so Suho assumed he was a VIP guest to the convention, but come on. You don’t get between a photographer and their perfect shot! It was blasphemous! Scandalous! It was exactly like taking candy from a baby, and Suho hated being called a baby more than he hated this schmuck at this very moment.
Suho does what any sane person would do.
He swears at the VIP.
Now, of course, it was louder than he intended (because he has a damn big mouth and of course it would conspire against him), and schmuck heard him. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face him with a glare that would send any weak-minded human being into oblivion – but Suho was no weak-minded human. He was used to the glares he received from people (even more used to being slapped), so this schmuck meant nothing to him. Suho was quick to take notice of his shapely lips, but allowed his thoughts to dissipate before they turned way above PG-13. The schmuck takes a step closer, scans him up and down, before chuckling to himself.
“What makes you think you can say that to me?” he asked slowly, the way he spoke almost smouldering, sexy to the untrained ear, and Suho takes a step towards the schmuck and his damned cheekbones.
“You messed up my shot, does matter who either of us are. You,” Suho stuck a finger in his face accusatorily, “Should apologise to me and this lovely group of kids.”
Schmuck shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “I don't have time for this rat,” he spoke to himself, before turning back and moving on with security. They moved forward without him, leaving Suho with the most indignant jaw drop in the vicinity. They retreated out of sight, and Suho stamped his foot down, turning back to the Avatar cosplayers.
“Can you pose again? That schmuck has some nerve,” Suho complains, voice bitter and full of venom, and one of them speaks of him quietly, in concern.
“Do you know who that was?” they asked him, and he waved a dismissive hand.
“He could be the Pope and I wouldn’t care. He mussed up a good shot. Now if you will?”
Suho never thought that this event would come back to haunt him, but naturally it did. It would be just his luck, really. He was being briefed on his next project when a familiar face popped up. Suho was to take photos for some hotshot actor’s website, and the job was simple enough in theory. It wouldn’t take much and there was already a clear idea of concepts, so all he had to do was show up and take the shots. In theory. Suho flipped open the folder for the actor, and his stomach lifted into his throat. Staring at him was the schmuck, a bright smile looking far too out of character.
“Just who is this guy?” Suho asked, voice unbelieving, tapping the picture as if it would make it move, “I met him at a convention and he was totally giving me the evil eye.”
“Just what did you do this time?” his manager, Yeowool, asked him. His lips were quirked in amusement just as they always were and his voice as soothing as ever, “How can you be sure he was death staring you.”
“He called me a rat, dude,” Suho whined, and Yeowool cocked his head to the side, “What’s so great about him anyway?”
“Girls like him because he has the whole cold exterior down pat, but as an actor, he’s rather versatile,” Yeowool tells him, twirling a pen between his fingers with casual disinterest, “And I’ve heard from my contacts that he looks good on camera too. I reckon you’d like him.”
“Not likely,” Suho rolled his eyes, “He’s a schmuck.”
“You call everyone you meet for the first time a schmuck,” Yeowool pointed out, and Suho denied it.
“Not you,” he said, and then as an afterthought, “Or Hansung. But Hansung is, like, five years old. And adorable.”
“Isn’t he?” Yeowool cooed, but then shook his head, getting back on track, “The shoot is in three days – come with a civil attitude, please? I might lose a friend if you make him angry. Especially after what happened with Kang Sung.”
Suho’s eyebrows shot up at the name, “You agree with me when I say he is the ultimate schmuck. And you enjoy fights.”
Yeowool nods with a wistful expression, “True, but not when it comes at the price of losing a huge opportunity. It’s better to stand back and take these things at times.”
“So I just don’t start shit with him and it’ll be fine?” Suho confirmed, and Yeowool rested his elbows on the table, chin on his hands. He gave a smile, and that was the answer that Suho needed.
♢ ♢ ♢
It all went swimmingly, really. Yeowool confirmed all the details for the shoot and everything was agreed on, and for a moment, Suho actually felt rather good about the whole thing. It couldn’t really be as bad as their initial meeting suggested.
Then came the shoot.
Suho was setting up his equipment as he always did, laughing and joking with the crew to break the ice a little, and in he comes. Suho refused to look but he knew. If not by the hushed whispers in the room, but the throat-slicing hand gesture Yeowool sent him from the other side of the room. Yeowool moved to great the schmuck, and Suho knew what was coming next. Thankfully, due to Suho’s instinct to eavesdrop, the schmuck hadn’t recognised him simply from his back. Then he heard his cue, and Suho really wished there was a hole in the ground he could leap into.
He turned around and offered a proper smile, facing the schmuck at full height, “I’m Kim Suho, it’s a pleasure to work with you,” he said as politely as he could, but the smile that schmuck had been using politely with Yeowool had disappeared entirely. He gave a fixed grin, obviously faking it.
“Park Banryu, please take good care of me.”
Oh, the irony. The only way Suho could think of taking care of the schmuck and his falsified pleasantries was a punch in the mouth, but he almost didn’t deserve it. Plus, his pretty-boy manager would probably slaughter him on the spot.
Banryu stood in front of the plain screen while awaiting further instruction, and Suho told him to wait there while the lighting crew finished off their work. Once Suho was given the all clear, he motioned for Banryu to come closer. Banryu obliged, but he didn’t look happy about it. Suho was about to say something overly polite when he decided, well, fuck it, he didn’t care enough.
“I know you don’t like me in the slightest,” Suho began, and Banryu gave him a deadpan look that gave him the answer no shit, “And to be honest, I’m not the biggest fan of you either but we gotta work together, yeah? So uh, what I’m saying is, you glaring at me isn’t going to make for happy managers, and I personally don’t want to be slaughtered by mine. Do you see him; he’s giving me a look. Unbelievable.”
“My manager is doing the same to me,” Banryu commented, and Suho noted that it was the first properly civil thing he had said. Suho turned his head to look at Banryu’s manager, who was contorting his unfairly handsome face into a frown, and he grimaced.
“Yikes,” Suho said, “So we gonna, I dunno, work together on this one?”
“Fine.”
“If you meet me afterwards you can punch me in the face, if you want. To settle the score, restore the equilibrium.”
Banryu gave him an odd look, before sighing, “We’ll see.”
So, somehow, the two worked together. Suho gave commands for ideas while both managers pitched in every now and again, and before they knew it, the first concept was completed. Banryu had ducked out to change his outfit while the crew changed the set for the second concept. Yeowool sauntered over to Suho, a smirk on his face.
“Well?” he asked, and Suho scowled.
“Well what?”
“You like him,” Yeowool teased, and Suho shook his head stubbornly.
“He’s a schmuck.”
“He’s doing a sexier concept next.”
“You’re a schmuck.”
Banryu came out once again, and Suho had to swallow hard in order not to blurt out something stupid that would get him beaten to a pulp and permanently ruin his career. He was a professional, and he had done shoots far more graphic than this concept (don’t judge a man by his first few jobs, that’s Suho’s rule), but for some reason he was all but sweating through his light purple tee. There was something about Banryu in such an outfit that made Suho hot and bothered. A hot, sweaty, gay bothered mess.
There wasn’t anything particularly amazing about the outfit. It was the standard expensive™ dress clothes that could make anyone look good when well-fitted. But Banryu. Suho didn’t even consider himself religious but he was thanking all the deities known to all the known regions of the world, possibly even some extra-terrestrial ones too. It wasn’t even that sexy. Just what was wrong with him?
Banryu wore a light grey suit with a white dress shirt, and Suho thought the outfit quite lacked a tie. Two of the buttons in the shirt remained untouched, and the collar pulled open to show off a little bit of skin. His dark hair had been swept back and styled to perfection. In front of Suho’s camera only laid a singular chair, and Suho gulped. Banryu stood beside the chair and awaited instruction. Suho cleared his throat, before getting a tap on the shoulder.
He turned his head and was met with Banryu’s manager, which Yeowool had named Maekjong those few days previous. He was in his element yet so out of place, and it brought joy to Suho’s heart. Maekjong was dressed smartly, a beige dress shirt that had been rolled to his elbows paired with well-fitting slacks and an unbuttoned pinstriped vest. He contrasted Suho’s ever-constant casual look. A loose-fitting purple tee and black skinny jeans. Suho offered a smile, and Maekjong returned it awkwardly.
“I’m not the expert, but a few different angles would be good for this one?”
Suho nodded dutifully, thinking similar things. Maekjong then left him to his work, and Suho was painfully aware of the fact he was in charge of what was going to happen. Suho stepped closer to Banryu and scanned him quickly, hoping that he wasn’t being too obvious.
“Uh,” he began so eloquently, and Banryu had begun glaring daggers into his chest. Suho sighed, “Just use the prop the best you can, and uh, follow the camera unless I say not to.”
Banryu was staring at him like Suho just asked him to helicopter in front of a group of eager journalists wanting to make their big break. Suho had to admit, that was not a great explanation, and he bit his lips while he thought of another way to put it.
“Uh, you act sexy for me, look away from me when I say to. Happy me, happy managers.”
“If that was your way of making that explanation from before better, you failed miserably,” Banryu told him, and Suho sighed deeply in agreement until he heard Banryu mutter under his breath, “You fool.”
“Fo—“ Suho was about to cry out outrageously, but he remembered Yeowool’s words and threat and bit his tongue, “Listen here you—you—you schmuck.”
“Schmuck?” Banryu’s laugh was caustic and scathing, “Is that really the best you could come up with?”
“Just—! Please, I’m dying here.”
A smile played at the others lips as he considered what Suho had so foolishly revealed. While Suho was busy cringing himself out of existence, Banryu’s gaze lingered for a moment too long. Suho finally paid attention to him and furrowed his eyebrows at Banryu. Banryu’s lips quirked, and he finally relented, “These better turn out good.”
“Of course they’re going to turn out good, I’m taking them.”
♢ ♢ ♢
Despite the awkwardness of the previous concept, it went rather well. There was one final concept to go through, but for whatever reason, he found it to be the hardest to swallow. Banryu’s manager requested a more casual set of photos that allowed fans to feel like they are having a nice time with the actor. Usually in this type of shoot Suho just had to shoot a few jokes and capture the smiles and laughter over a meal, but he was almost certain it wouldn’t work on Banryu. The two stood awkwardly beside each other, willing the other as far away from him as they could while Yeowool and Banryu’s manager, Maekjong, discussed ideas. The two seemed to clash, despite Yeowool considering the man a close friend, so Suho and his big mouth spoke up.
“One time, when I was doing a similar concept, I went with the model to a café and took photos there,” he said, and the two managers turned to him with curious eyes. Banryu also turned to him, but rather than curiosity it was burning anger that caused Suho to nearly burst into flames on the spot. Suho could see the cogs turning in the manager’s eyes, before Yeowool burst into the smile.
“I think that might be a good idea, what about you?”
Maekjong, on the other hand, looked to be unsure, “Wouldn't that be a bit…”
“A bit what?” Suho demanded, ready to argue with anything Maekjong had to offer him. He was more than used to people dismissing his ideas, even when they were good.
Maekjong shifted his weight and sighed, “Is it really a good idea?”
“Do you remember,” Suho began, “When there was that shoot with that really young actor in a café? Seok Hansung?” After thinking for a moment, Maekjong nodded slowly, and Suho gave him a grin like the Cheshire cat, “That was mine. You convinced?”
Yeowool smiled fondly, eyes crinkling, “Such a sweet kid.”
“He roasted me the entire time,” Suho pointed out, almost reminiscing, mostly whining, and Yeowool’s fond smile grew fonder.
“So kind…”
“Sadist.”
Maekjong interrupts their conversation, “Banryu, if you’re comfortable with it there shouldn’t be an issue. So long as the job gets done.”
Suho totally saw that side-eye Maekjong gave him but he chose not to comment on it. He instead turned his attention towards Banryu, who looked like he became constipated with that last sentence. Suho didn’t blame him, although he was still rather offended – and rightfully so! Suho truly wasn’t as bad as his first impression! He gave Banryu an inquisitive look, and after a few more seconds of constipation the actor relented.
“Fine. But you’re paying,” Banryu pointed a finger in Suho’s direction, and Suho raised an eyebrow. He pouted, but Banryu gave him a steely look, which made Suho weak to his knees.
“Fine, I know a place,” he says, waving Banryu to follow him. The two bid farewell to their managers and cast members before heading off. Suho grabbed his jacket on the way out, slipping it on while they moved in silence. Banryu had stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and walked along with him, Suho leading the way. Every so often, Banryu would take a deep breath but there were no exchanges between the two.
Until Suho saw it. The devil, who was most likely wearing prada.
He gasped and jumped back in surprise, taking Banryu’s wrist and pulling him into the nearest alleyway. Their shoes scuffed against the asphalt far too loudly and their scuffle was heard by anyone around them. Banryu was about to argue with Suho loudly, having the look on his face, so Suho forced his hand over the actor’s mouth and rested one finger against his lips. He couldn’t give away his precious hiding spot, knowing that doing that meant certain death. Banryu was glaring at him with great ferocity but obliged, and Suho removed his hand slowly, giving Banryu a warning stare. He turned his head away and listened for someone approaching them. When there was no one, Suho daringly poked his head around the corner, before pulling it back in alarm.
He had been seen.
“This is bad, this is bad, this is bad,” he uttered as a mantra, running his hands through his hair, “Why here? Why here? Why me?”
Banryu was incredibly confused and whispered, “What’s going on?”
“Kim Suho!” a voice screeched, and something ticked inside of Banryu’s head. He raised a hand in Suho’s direction, and Suho snarled at him for a split second before dread filled his heart. There was no escape from their predicament. The Attack and the Grand Schmuck had nothing on this.
“What did you do?” Banryu demanded in a whisper, voice breathy.
“No time to explain,” Suho whisper-yelled back, “I just need to hide and not get killed.”
Banryu thought for a moment, before nodding to himself, “Trust me.”
“Huh?”
Banryu took the side of Suho’s camera and pulled it away from the man before taking his waist and pulling him close. Suho gasped in surprise as Banryu buried his face in Suho’s shoulder, whispering into it.
“Hide your face and pretend you’re hugging me,” he commanded, and Suho, out of options and hearing that voice threaten his manhood he did so without thinking.
Banryu’s grip on his waist was firm, almost like a lover’s, and Suho found himself melting into the touch. His nose brushed against the soft skin on Banryu’s neck, tempted to nuzzle into it. He shuffled his feet closer to Banryu, eyes closed shut, praying that he didn’t unconsciously anger the actor. Banryu’s grip tightened for a mere moment, then he released it like Suho was burning him. He let the man’s camera go and pushed him away. Suho stumbled backwards and stared at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Banryu straightened out his clothing, and Suho noted the red tinge to his cheeks. Habitually, he reached for his camera and took a candid shot of the actor, and when the man heard the click he jumped in surprise.
“Did you just take a picture of me?” he demanded, and Suho deadpanned.
“That’s kind of why I’m here,” he said, shrugging, “It just felt like the right thing to do.”
“The right thing to do,” Banryu repeated like Suho was a child.
“I dunno,” Suho whined, head facing the camera. He pressed the preview button and inspected the photo, “You looked good so I just reacted. It’s habit.”
“I looked good?” Banryu asked incredulously, before clearing his throat, “Right…”
“Hm…” Suho hummed in a non-committal way, “Good for a schmuck.”
“You should thank me,” he commanded, “I think I just saved your sorry ass.”
Suho’s head snapped upwards and he gave an outraged huff, “I coulda handled it.”
“No, you couldn’t,” Banryu argued, and Suho shook his head.
“Coulda!”
♢ ♢ ♢
The two reached the coffee shop Suho had in mind while they bickered endlessly, a stark contrast to the silence when they left the studio. The two were worse than an old married couple when they got worked up; they were old enemies reincarnated. To Suho, it was like someone filled a man with everything the other hated and placed them together on this earth at the exact same time with this devious plan to ruin everything. Was it the poison he considered putting in Yeowool’s ‘beauty tea’? Suho cursed the forces of karma.
The café was a cosy little place with open brick walls. Decorating them were abstract paintings of all colours, but the furniture was simplistic. Round tables scattered the café, while along the back wall there were booths with plain black cushions. Next to the door the counter dwelled, displaying various treats and machines behind the brickwork. It was a small place and there were two people working, both most likely students. Behind them, a board with the beverages and treats outlined with pictures. Suho felt at home in this café, so he smiled habitually. He turned his gaze towards Banryu, who seemed to be taking the place in. He almost appeared to be innocent for once, so Suho didn’t fight the smile off his face.
When Banryu finally turned his head towards Suho, Banryu had the expression of an angsty teenager. Suho forced his order out of him and made him sit in one of the booths alone with his camera. Suho death glared him while he gently placed his only child on the tabletop. Suho stood in the line two-deep and made their orders, adding in two slices of cake as his treat. The short girl that was serving him, Aro, smiled at him and brushed off his flirting with an off-hand comment about his near death experience just moments previous (well played, Suho had to admit). The chocolate cake that Aro was pulling out looked mouth-watering, the icing sticking to the knife as she cut their slices. Suho wasn’t even certain that Banryu would like cake, but he wanted to eat it all himself if there was the option. He deserved it. Besides, everyone liked chocolate cake. Not even the schmuck could be that bad.
Suho tapped his foot while he waited, occasionally turning his head in Banryu’s direction to make sure the man hadn’t disappeared on him. When Suho’s name was called he took his tray with a dazzling smile and headed towards the booth. Banryu raised an eyebrow when Suho placed the tray on the table. Banryu had slid the camera out of the way before staring at the plates.
“You ordered cake?” he asked, and Suho grinned habitually.
“It’s awkward just to sit here with coffee. Eating means we don’t have to talk as much,” Suho explained, pushing a plate towards the actor. He stared at it warily before taking it and spooning away some of the icing. He places the spoon between his lips and tastes it. Suho watched the actor do so with great intensity, fingers itching for his camera. Banryu looked up at Suho like he was afraid to admit defeat.
“It’s… nice,” he said, and Suho smiles at him.
“It is.”
Banryu took another spoonful and ate it quietly. Meanwhile, Suho took his camera and readied it in front of him, waiting for the perfect shot. His hand was steady as he waited, and just as Banryu looked back up at Suho through hooded lids, Suho’s finger twitched and the shutter went off. Banryu startled and glared at him, and Suho offered a smile.
“Doing my job,” he sung, and Banryu scowled and made no comment. They went on like that for a while, feasting and drinking while Suho held his camera in place, waiting for the perfect opportunity.
Here lies the problem.
Suho just couldn’t get this guy to act like he wanted to be there. Banryu ate his cake in silence, drank his coffee in silence, and didn’t attempt to make conversation with the photographer sitting across from him. At this rate, Suho thought he would have to do an interpretive dance about their managers slaughtering them for Banryu to take this seriously. Suho also knew that he couldn’t force it. Arguing with the actor wouldn’t help him, and Banryu posing would make it seem unnatural. Suho sighed deeply, thinking of questions to ask.
“Do you like chocolate cake the most? Or are there other cakes you like better?” Suho asks, and Banryu stops, looking at him weirdly.
“I like cheesecake,” he says, and Suho allows himself a smile, “You?”
“I love mud cake more than living,” Suho speaks dramatically, “But all cakes are deserving of love. What’s your favourite Disney film?”
“What is this, twenty questions?”
“I need to get you to seem friendly, dude,” Suho explained, and Banryu’s expression turned sour, “Your fans don't want to see the next model for Angry Birds, they want to see the sweet side of you. Not my words, by the way.”
“Can’t I just pose for it?” Banryu sighs, and Suho shakes his head.
“It needs to be natural. Just pretend not to hate me and try to make conversation and we’ll be set.”
“I don’t hate you,” Banryu responds, and Suho stops in his tracks.
“Literally everything else suggests otherwise.”
“I don’t, okay?” Banryu argues, voice heating up before he returned it to normal, “I just… don't really talk much. People tire me out.”
They’re silent for a moment, and when Banryu turns his head away to stare out the window, Suho snaps a shot. Banryu doesn’t react, so Suho adjusts his angle slightly to capture the planter on the windowsill.
“What’s your favourite place you’ve travelled to?” Suho asks, edging him on, “And what did you like most about it?”
“There’s the… Haedong Yonggungsa Temple in Busan,” Banryu says, “I used to go there a lot as a kid. There’s a bridge that is next to some of the clearest, prettiest water I’ve ever seen. Just being there makes you feel at peace, so I like it there.”
While Banryu was talking, Suho was snapping away in attempt to find the perfect shot. Suho smiled softly, “Is the peace important to you?”
“Being an actor is… a lot of intense schedules and travel and being awake at odd hours,” Banryu explains, “But being at a place like that makes you forget your worries. Even if it’s not work related.”
Banryu’s wistful exterior cracked for a moment, and Suho watched in happen through his preview. He bit his lip before speaking again, “Tell me more about the temple.”
“It’s right by the ocean, and…”
Suho knew that they were on a good path. He snapped some great shots while Banryu talked and talked and talked, and Suho knew that once he finished his coffee, he had taken exactly what he needed. The two left the café, and Suho commanded Banryu to walk in front of him so that the photographer had more of an opportunity. Suho held the camera at the ready, and waited for his instincts to scream at him.
It took them fifteen minutes to return to the studio, and when they did, Yeowool was giving him the look. Banryu walked straight over his manager while Suho made the walk over to his doom. Yeowool punched his shoulder lightly.
“Did you get some good shots in?” he asked, and Suho nodded.
“I think I have what we need. I also took a picture of a dog at some point, so an added bonus,” Suho informed him.
“Still think he’s a schmuck?”
“You are schmuck.”
“I see,” Yeowool speaks solemnly, “You should show us the pictures you took now so I can get out of this guy’s hair. He isn’t fun to tease anymore.”
Suho did as he was told, and overall, everyone seemed to be happy with the shots Suho took. Maekjong tapped him on the back and offered a small smile, and Suho was certain that that was the highest form of honour you could receive from the man. Banryu nodded, and Suho returned it. As Maekjong and Banryu were about to leave, Suho stopped in his tracks and offered a small wave. He didn’t get one back, but Suho was certain he saw the corners of Banryu’s mouth lift ever so slightly before leaving them.
A week later, Suho received an email.
Subject: Photobook Photography