Even if they’d started acting out of love for it, actors were the kind of people who ran on razor-sharp nerves on set. And when the person they’d always envied happened to be their co-star, that sharpness doubled. He’d fully expected this shoot to be the hardest one yet for Park Ian — but that expectation turned out to be wrong.
“Is the schedule done once we get back to Seoul?”
Park Ian asked, his gaze trailing persistently along the side of Heesung’s face.
“Yes. Shall I take you straight home?”
“No. We worked ourselves to death out there — I need to blow off some steam.”
Park Ian had started out speaking casually in response to Heesung’s polite reply, then switched back to formal speech. No matter what, the man was a full ten years older than him. And he really did give off the feeling of an actual hyung.
“Where would you like me to take you?”
“Want to come with me, hyung?”
Park Ian asked, his voice low and intimate.
“No.”
But Heesung answered without even asking where they were going. Blunt. Park Ian twitched his lips again.
“Without even knowing where I’m going.”
“If this is personal business, shall I clock out?”
At Moon Heesung’s businesslike question, Park Ian thought for a moment, then snapped his head away like a sulking child and answered.
“No. Stay on standby.”
He knew it was an unreasonable demand, but Moon Heesung responded exactly as Park Ian had expected.
“Yes.”
Without a trace of irritation or disappointment. With that uniquely indifferent air of his — as if nothing in the world could touch him. Unaware that it was precisely that quality that made Park Ian all the more restless.
**
Thanks to how smoothly everything had gone, the atmosphere on set had been excellent. A genuinely good atmosphere on set was a rare thing. Unless the leads happened to be actors known for their good character, it was almost always a walk on thin ice. In this rare stretch of good energy, the one who had led that atmosphere was, in contrast, teetering on the edge of combustion — and that was Yoo Sinju.
The moment he boarded the plane back to Seoul, Yoo Sinju headed straight to the usual gathering. Getting blackout drunk, getting high — he felt like that was the only way to wipe away this filthy, suffocating mood. This shoot had demanded an extreme level of concentration unlike any other. There was only one reason for that. Because he’d felt someone watching him the entire time. Yoo Sinju, acutely aware of that gaze, had thrown himself even deeper into his performance. At the very least, he didn’t want to look pathetic in front of that person while working. Because if he ever stood before him again, Yoo Sinju wanted to look his absolute best. Nothing like the humiliating state he’d been in when they’d run into each other again.
Maybe it was pride. Throughout the entire shoot, Yoo Sinju hadn’t acknowledged Moon Heesung once — but every nerve in his body had been aimed squarely at him. That fact made Yoo Sinju sharper and more on edge than ever. Disgusted with himself for being so aware of the man.
“Did the shoot go well?”
Seo Jaeha, who had every detail of Yoo Sinju’s schedule memorized, was the first to greet him. Others scattered around offered him casual hellos as well. Yoo Sinju didn’t acknowledge a single one of them, and just grabbed the nearest drink and threw it back.
“Why’s his mood like that again?”
A well-known producer sitting beside Seo Jaeha glanced over at Yoo Sinju and asked. Seo Jaeha brought his glass to his lips with a smile.
“He’s always like that. Isn’t it kind of sexy?”
“What?”
“The way he doesn’t give a damn about anyone and just does whatever the hell he wants.”
“…Your taste really is something.”
“Well, obviously it’s only sexy because it’s that face doing it.”
Seo Jaeha smiled lightly. There was no shortage of people who were into Yoo Sinju, but most of them got chased off by that garbage personality of his. Right now, Seo Jaeha was the only one who still firmly held his place by his side. Sure, there were people who hooked up with him casually, but whenever Yoo Sinju turned vicious, they’d lose their nerve and bail quickly. Seo Jaeha, though, was different. He was the kind of deviant who actually found that side of Yoo Sinju more attractive. Of course, even he couldn’t easily approach him when things got particularly brutal — but the moment even the tiniest crack appeared, he was the type who’d wedge himself right into it and find a way to roll around with Yoo Sinju.
The producer shook his head as if Seo Jaeha’s persistence was repulsive, and walked away. Seo Jaeha approached Yoo Sinju with his usual ease.
“The usual?”
“Whatever.”
Yoo Sinju, perched on a couch strewn with discarded clothing, was drinking Russian vodka like it was water.
“Rough shoot, huh.”
…It was rough.
Yoo Sinju thought it without answering. It wasn’t that his body had been pushed hard — his mind had been a mess, and that was what had worn him out. Throughout the entire shoot, Park Ian and Moon Heesung had been glued to each other. Which was normal, of course. Actor and manager. But the vibe between them was something different. More precisely, it was accurate to say that Park Ian had been the one clinging relentlessly to Moon Heesung — one-sidedly. On top of that, once Yoo Sinju learned that Heesung was being called to his room every night, he started lingering in the lounge near Park Ian’s hotel room at all hours, watching.
And that wasn’t all — he’d even taken to quietly following him around from time to time. What he’d come to notice in doing so was that the man had an expression that was impossible to read. In his day-to-day life he moved through the world like someone utterly indifferent to everything, but every night, late, he would slip out of the hotel and stand exactly as he had that time — gazing at the sea, slowly smoking one cigarette. Very slowly. With a face that gave no hint of what he was thinking. That hollow, empty gaze fixed on the sea was, more than anything, the thing that kept unsettling Yoo Sinju’s mind.
Just then, the entrance area stirred with noise again. Park Ian had arrived, and only in that moment did Yoo Sinju realize he was part of this gathering too. His already frayed nerves pulled even tighter.
“…Park Ian.”
The low growl escaped him before he even realized it, and Seo Jaeha responded with a completely oblivious look.
“Oh, you two shot together this time, right?”
He said nothing in answer to Seo Jaeha’s question, eyes fixed solely on Park Ian. Park Ian had come in looking like he was in a good mood. He naturally sidled up to someone he knew, pressing close, and downed the vodka being passed to him.
“You’re in a good mood?”
Someone nearby asked Park Ian, and he shrugged.
“Yeah, I am.”
Park Ian hummed a little tune as he answered. The complete opposite of Yoo Sinju.
“Oh? You clocked out here too, senior?”
Park Ian spotted Yoo Sinju immediately and broke into a wide-eyed smile. The hand Yoo Sinju had wrapped around his glass trembled. The urge to rip that smirking mouth apart twisted something deep in his gut.
When Yoo Sinju didn’t respond, Park Ian naturally drifted back to his group, leaning against some guy and letting out a low laugh.
“What is it. Did you land something big?”
The person threw an arm around Park Ian’s waist and asked, and Park Ian shook his head.
“I found someone I like.”
“Who? Someone here?”
“As if. I don’t bother with trash.”
“Wait — is that a self-introduction?”
The guy smiled faintly and ran his hands over Park Ian’s body in a slow, slick way. Yoo Sinju wasn’t looking in that direction, but his nerves were strung tight toward them, and Park Ian’s voice kept stabbing itself into his ear.
“There’s someone. Handsome.”
Park Ian swayed his body to the dreamy music, adding one word at a time.
“Dependable.”
Somehow, I feel like I know exactly who he’s talking about. The tendons along Yoo Sinju’s jaw rose one by one.
“So. Are you two together?”
“No.”
“Then.”
“I’m going to fuck him tonight.”
Yoo Sinju choked mid-sip, vodka lurching back up his throat. He started coughing violently, and Seo Jaeha looked over in alarm.
“You okay?”
“Cough! Cough!“
He was hacking like he was about to throw it all up. Seo Jaeha panicked and started patting his back, and Yoo Sinju shoved that hand away roughly, forcing himself to focus back on Park Ian’s voice.
“Just bring him here then.”
“He’s downstairs. I’m killing some time here first before heading down.”
“Why bother?”
“Can you set aside a can of sparkling water for me later?”
“What for?”
“I want to mix something nice in it for him.”
Park Ian said this with a sly smile, and the guy shook his head.
“You shouldn’t be playing games like that outside.”
“He’s just a wooden post, that guy.”
“He must be straight.”
“Exactly. Gotta catch him when his head’s spinning. Either way I’m the one doing the fucking — what does it matter whether the other person’s a woman or a man?”
Park Ian grinned wickedly and dragged his lips lightly over the guy’s neck. Loose and debauched, but the smile on his face looked genuine. He was grinning happily with the look of someone who was truly, sincerely gone for that person. Yoo Sinju was swamped by the sensation of thousands of insects crawling all over his skin. It was like someone was scraping the inside of his throat raw with their fingernails.
“Sounds exactly like something you’d think. So you’re leaving on your own tonight?”
The guy stroked along Park Ian’s chest and whispered low.
“Yeah. He’s waiting for me.”
“You’re acting like you’re actually falling for him.”
“I am, for real.”
“I’m kind of jealous.”
“I’ve never been this into someone before.”
Even as he said it, Park Ian was grinding his lower half against the guy. Yoo Sinju rolled out the stiffness in his neck and kept drinking. Seo Jaeha, who’d always sensed something off about him, felt it even more strongly lately. Yoo Sinju had always had his sharp edges, but on the whole, he was a man ruled by boredom. He went through life as though he hated everything, found everything tedious and exhausting, as though he had no attachment whatsoever to this world.
But lately — he still seemed sharper than usual, yet there was an alive, pulsing energy to him that wasn’t like him at all. He cycled through expressions like someone swinging between extremes of emotion, wearing many different faces. Mostly he looked furious, or irritated, but even so, he carried himself like someone whose feelings could actually be felt.
Seo Jaeha, who had watched him for a long time, found that unfamiliar. The man who had always walked around with the eyes of a dying animal — lately, those eyes were alive.
