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Soft breath and lingering gaze. The pulse running through him drowns out everything else. In this moment, there is just Sunwoo and his voice and Changmin’s thundering heart.

“—min-ssi? Ji Changmin-ssi? Hello?”

And the pre-production crew. And the director snapping his fingers, though not with his usual level of irritation. He just looks concerned.

“Hyung.”

Changmin looks up from the paper when he feels a nudge to his hand. Sunwoo is leaning close, his voice quiet.

“Sorry.” Changmin clears his throat, plastering on a smile. “I’m listening, I promise.”

“So, the scene will end with them on the bed, in each other’s arms,” the director continues. Next to him, Sunwoo is already retreating back into his own seat. Something deep inside Changmin mourns the loss. What the hell—professionalism, he scolds himself internally. “Changmin-ssi, you seem distracted. Is there an issue?”

He can think of many issues. Moreso personal and internal than to do with the script itself. He hadn’t been opposed to the scene when he’d first received the script, and that hasn’t changed. It’s just different to hear the words come out of Sunwoo’s mouth, instead of him mumbling them to himself. He’s lucky this is just a table-read.

Changmin sits up straight. “I might need extra preparation for this scene.”

Sunwoo raises a hand. “Me too. I’ll run the lines with him later.”

There is a sigh. But all there are no more complaints, and they move on to the next one.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

“And then you stop kissing, and he says…” His manager squints at the manuscript. “Can I touch them? My, what a gentleman. And then you nod your head and kiss again, and then his hand—Changmin, I’m not doing this. He’ll be here soon anyway, you can practice together.”

“Traitor. You said you’d practice with me before he comes over.”

Kevin is not fazed by his pout one bit. He does gently tuck Changmin’s hair behind his ear though.

“Are you uncomfortable with the scene?” he asks, even though they both know the real reason. Still, he appreciates the consideration. “Should we have another chat with the intimacy coordinator?” The smile he gets is a little too knowing. “Or can I finally say, I told you so?”

Changmin frowns. “Kevin!”

“I’ll be fine,” the other whines. It’s much too nasally. “Business and pleasure don’t mix.”

“I do not talk like that.”

“I’m a professional,” he continues, and Changmin swats his hands at him. “Yeah, professionally in love with this guy for two billion years—”

“I never said that!”

“I can pretend to expertly lead a group of elves into a heist— what is this movie even about —but I can’t handle a little kiss with—”

“First of all, my character is a fallen angel not an elf—he asks to touch the scars on my back, genius. And second, this is literally a sex scene. Third, we read the script together, remember?”

Kevin definitely remembers. He was extremely supportive of Changmin considering this project, even when there had been some uncertainty from higher management. He’d fought his very hardest to let them approve of it, knowing how much playing a queer role would mean to him. He’s as attached to the worldbuilding as Changmin is.

Still, he finds too much fun in teasing Changmin.

“All I heard was, oh,” Kevin sighs, dramatic and annoying. He pretends to swoon, hand over his forehead. “Oh god, Kevin! Kim Sunwoo is so hot and funny and exactly my type and I never got over that one time we kissed drunk at the—”

There’s a knock on his door.

Kevin grins, and Changmin thinks maybe he’s the actor here, with how quickly all his evil aura subsides as he goes to greet their guest. Sunwoo pokes his head into the room curiously. His eyes brighten when they find Changmin, and he tries to crush the stupid butterflies spawning inside his stomach.

(He should be able to. He’s done so well up until this point.)

“I’m going on a coffee run,” Kevin announces, even though he knows Changmin doesn’t ingest caffeine at this hour. “You guys want anything? Snacks? Drinks? Condo—”

“Tteokbokki!” Changmin all but yells, hurtling his wallet in hopes of it landing on Kevin’s head. He catches it, his nefarious grin making its way back. He will use Changmin’s card for much more than tteokbokki. “From the place… from the other night? The good place? Thanks Kevin.”

“Bye guys, be responsible. Don’t make too many babies, okay?” 

He’s shutting the door before Changmin can retort. Sunwoo is caught in silent laughter, his cheeks pink. They darken some more when he gestures to the script in Changmin’s hold.

“We can just work on the dialogue,” he offers, and what was a kind smile is tinged with something… curious. Maybe even a little teasing. “Y’know, if you’re… not up for what they choreographed, hyung.”

“No way.”

Changmin is partially competitive, but mostly in disbelief at how Sunwoo’s concern makes his feelings go haywire. It manifests as a scoff, one that Sunwoo can probably now recognise as a front, judging by how his smile widens.

“We’ll have to act it out properly on the day of filming anyway, Sunwoo.”

“Right,” he agrees, and he shouldn’t look so good. In that grey hoodie he always wears, his hair messy like it always is, sitting expectantly on Changmin’s couch. “Let’s work on it, then.”

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

Kissing someone for a paycheck isn’t difficult. Maybe a bit awkward sometimes, but it’s a fairly normal occurrence in his line of work.

But back at Changmin’s place, they aren’t getting paid to kiss, let alone more than that. They’re doing this of their own volition, step by step, testing the waters and noting down each other’s suggestions.

It’s just like doing homework with a friend. If homework involved straddling a pretty boy on your couch, and guiding him through how to play your lover. Maybe they shouldn’t have decided to practice here, in his home, of all places. Now every time he sees his couch, he’s going to think about having Sunwoo all pliant and yearning against it.

“Just you,” Sunwoo reads, script in one hand, his other one steadying Changmin by the waist. Changmin hovers over his lap, and doesn’t quite let their bodies touch, knees on either side of Sunwoo. “Just us. Hyung, isn't that uncomfortable?”

“It’s fine,” he lies, but Sunwoo sees through it.

He lets go of Changmin to grab a cushion, which he unceremoniously shoves between their bodies, right under Changmin’s butt. “There. Sit down.”

Laughing sheepishly, Changmin finally takes a seat, hands on Sunwoo’s shoulders. He pauses at his line, moving to cup Sunwoo’s face in both hands. “Should I maybe do this instead for this bit?”

Sunwoo peers at the script. “Yeah, that fits the mood more. We can run it by the director during the rehearsal?”

“Yeah,” Changmin says. Cheek against palm, Sunwoo leans into his touch, and he thinks he’s going to go nuts. “Great! And then you… kiss my cheek, and ask to touch the scars.”

Sunwoo doesn’t kiss his cheek.

“Do you think they’d let us tweak the moment a bit?” His eyes trail down in thought. “How do you feel about kisses on the neck?”

Truthfully? At the prospect of Sunwoo’s lips on his throat? A little lightheaded. But artistically speaking…

“It’s more tender,” Changmin agrees, thinking back to the dialogue prior to this moment. “Yeah, definitely. It’s a vulnerable moment for them both.”

“Alright, cool,” Sunwoo murmurs along the spot below his jaw. It’s dizzying. “Can I touch them?”

He doesn’t register right away that Sunwoo is reading off the script again. Only because he is being watched so intently. His voice is stuck, unable to free itself.

“Yes,” he whispers. This is acting, this is acting, this is acting.

Fingertips skate over the ridges of his spine. Changmin shivers a bit too visibly, and Sunwoo retracts his touch with a swift apology.

He tries to think of unsexy things. Sad things. Annoying things. That time Chanhee spilled red wine over his favourite sweater. Construction noise in the middle of the night. When the family dog once got sick all over his shoes. Anything that’d keep him in check.

“S’fine, just ticklish,” Changmin fibs again, shifting on his lap. At this rate his body will do something that he’ll have a hard time explaining with lies. Literally a hard time.  “We should… probably not rehearse the rest without Juyeon present. Right?”

Because the intimacy co-ordinator has to approve of the changes. And because after this moment, their characters will start shedding clothes. And it is Juyeon’s job to make sure nothing gets out of hand, and that they’re both comfortable when this happens. Not because of any other reason.

“Of course,” Sunwoo agrees, squeezing Changmin in his arms. When he smiles, it thankfully doesn’t escalate the situation brewing downstairs. But the sweetness of it causes something terrible and reckless upstairs. Like thoughts of wanting to kiss him, or asking if he would like to grab dinner together.

But Changmin doesn’t do this. He can’t.

He pats Sunwoo’s cheek instead. Neat, platonic. Maybe a little confusing, judging by how Sunwoo blinks at him like a puppy that was tricked.

“Great practice. Do you want to stay for food? Kevin’s buying.”

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

Running lines together off-set becomes a habit. A ritual almost, especially if they have to shoot together the next day.

But then he realises, he’s having fun.

Sure, his profession is his passion, but nobody wants to be doing work when you’re off the clock. These moments with Sunwoo go from being work, to being something he anticipates. The living room lamp’s glow is always lovely on Sunwoo.

“I can’t do it,” Sunwoo says, a palm along his shoulder blade. “I’m hurting you.”

Changmin sits in front of him, knees drawn to his chest. “You’re not.”

“I am…”

“I can assure you’re not.”

“I am,” comes Sunwoo’s voice from behind him, and Changmin can hear the laugh he’s trying to stifle. He hopes they’ll have more discipline when the actual filming for this scene takes place. “I don’t want to get rid of your wings—please, you don’t find this even a little funny? This demon’s dumb as shit.”

Changmin hisses at him to be serious, wiggling away from him. The script lies on the coffee table, and if he squints he can make apart the words. “You’re not getting rid of them, foolish demon. I need to prune them so new feathers can grow.”

When Sunwoo doesn’t say the next line, Changmin turns to face him.

“Oh.” The other makes flappy movements with his hands. “You were meant to hit me before the next line.”

Changmin’s brows raise as he recalls the screenplay. He’s supposed to accidentally whack Sunwoo in the face with his wing. “I’m missing a key piece of costume. What, you want me to slap you for the time being?”

Sunwoo pretends to think it over, leaning back on his palms. “Well, not too hard. My face is a valuable asset.”

Whatever laugh he was fighting is drawn out of him. Changmin’s hand flies up to cover his mouth, startled at his lack of control. Sunwoo, on the other hand, is tilting his head, his grin triumphant.

“I thought we had to be serious, hyung?”

Changmin’s fist aims right at him, a yell breaking free. Sunwoo gloves his punch with his palm, but doesn’t account for the force with which Changmin had lurched. They fall into a heap, Changmin landing face-first into his chest. The laughter is only paused to groan at how hard he slammed into Sunwoo’s shaking ribs.

“Aw, are you alright?” He’s reaching up to gently hold Changmin by the chin. Like he would be the one in more pain right now. “Your pretty little face all okay?”

Sunwoo thumbs just below the line of his bottom lip. Changmin opens his mouth to answer, and catches Sunwoo’s double-take before hastily trying to meet his eyes. And the deepening flush along his face. He’s suddenly aware of his hand pressed up against Sunwoo’s heart—quickening in its rhythm. Much like his own.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

Every time they get a bit too comfortable with each other, a doubtful little thought resurfaces. It pricks at him like an insistent mosquito, draining away Changmin’s wishfulness drop by drop.

If his fears turn out to be true, he wouldn’t blame Sunwoo—the script does have them interacting in a way that might make you feel certain things, even outside of filming hours. Part of him would be sorely disappointed, though. Kevin takes in his concerns with much confusion.

“I really don’t think so, dude,” he objects, on the floor in perfect reverse table-top position. Changmin is very grateful to be heard out, even though he walked in on Kevin following an hour long online pilates tutorial. “He’s annoying but he doesn’t seem like that kind of guy. We’ve known him for how long? Couple of years now?”

“Three years, eight months,” Changmin confirms, sitting parallel to him, legs crossed. “And twenty-seven days.”

Kevin laughs so hard he almost loses form. “But who’s counting, right?”

“It’s the—” Changmin begins, voice falling into a whisper despite this being Kevin’s very private, very empty home. The crush. The feelings. “The you-know-what. Don’t laugh. Did I laugh when you had that thing with that American music producer?”

“First of all, Mark was Canadian, also he has nothing to do with this? And yes, you did laugh.” Kevin gets into a different pose, sitting with his legs lifted up, toes pointed. Just the visual hurts Changmin’s abdomen. “I know I joke about you guys making booty calls, but he’s an open book at this point. But you, sweetheart, are a chronic over-analyzer. Think about Sunwoo for a moment.”

“If I could stop thinking about Sunwoo I would,” Changmin mutters. He gets an exasperated look. “Sorry, you’re right. He’s not the type to do all this just to…”

Changmin swallows. He can’t say it.

“To get in your pants,” Kevin finishes, now on his side, body supported by one arm. Truly, it’s impressive how he converses while doing this, not a single shaky limb in sight. “Listen, I understand. I remember them all, too.”

It wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried to sleep with him during or after a project. He’s had a fair share of co-stars reach out to him in the past—some polite when faced with his rejection, some less graceful with their anger. Changmin wouldn’t judge anyone who craves the connection in a life like this, but he knows how the aftermath often goes. His own history aside, there’s a reason he’s so firm with his rules on separating business and pleasure.

But with Sunwoo… it’d kill him inside if that’s all this is building up to. With him, Changmin feels so safe, and it melts away his resolve slowly. He doesn’t have much left.

“I just wonder if I’m reading any of this wrong.”

Kevin sits up, mirroring him. “I think you’re receiving his signals, loud and clear.”

The flirting is direct. A lot of his words are too heartfelt to just be born of lust. The consideration he displays is too careful for someone who just wants Changmin in their bed.

And if Sunwoo is serious, then there’s a different worry that’s growing in him. One that he buries under all the others, pretending he’s long past its effect. Kevin watches him from the corner of his eye; he won’t bring it up if Changmin won’t. But that doesn’t make it go away.

Changmin shakes his head, and with it, all those distressing thoughts. For now.

“But sex aside, what if he’s just being ni—”

“Ji Changmin, if you don’t start sending him signals back, I swear to—”

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

Changmin can’t pinpoint the exact moment his feelings had undergone their metamorphosis from what was to what is. All he knows is that it’s been easy to fall into matching smiles with Sunwoo, right from the start.

They’re familiar with each other, comfortable even. Their overlapping circles have led to a friendship that he’s come to treasure.

Their first official meeting had been as two characters in a low-budget drama. They were a recurring albeit unimportant pair; comic-relief that caught the eye of a sizeable number of viewers. They’ve worked on a couple of things together after that, even if those have never been leading roles.

But Changmin always thinks fondly of the very first time. The matching school uniforms and bowl-cuts—the latter earning them comparison to many things tiny and spherical. If he looks back on their photos, he can kind of see the resemblance. He never thought the nickname ‘bamtori’ would stick, but years later, fans still refer to the pair as such with so much love—a rounded acorn and his trusty companion, the even rounder chestnut. A match made in heaven, they’d said.

Changmin knows they go well together; this film shouldn’t be a problem. He isn’t sure where this sudden influx of nerves arrives from.

(Somewhere along their friendship, when the excitement started to feel more like an incorrigible giddiness at Sunwoo’s smile, Changmin knew. When one night, he’d been startled awake, clutching at his heart and wishing he could replace it with Sunwoo’s hand, he knew.)

The realisation hits him a couple of days before they’re set to film the scene, when he’s on the treadmill. Changmin catches his step just in time, heart rate picking up, and not from the exercise.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

Kissing scenes in movies often aren’t as romantic as they look.

In tamer projects, you can get away with angling your head just right, no actual contact involved, or perhaps just a quick peck. In slightly racier films, the camera gets all the action, all the liplock and movement and breaking apart.

It’s their job to make sure it’s not an awkward watch. And Changmin is a firm believer that to get something right, they need practice. Sunwoo is more than eager for whatever he proposes. Method acting, they’d both agreed.

“Are you sure you want to be doing this?” he still asks, even though they’re already sitting on Changmin’s bed, thigh to thigh.

“Yes,” Changmin reassures, eyes darting to his pouting mouth. “If you’re okay with that. I’m just worried it’ll catch us off-guard on the actual day.”

“A valid worry.” Sunwoo leans closer. “Ready whenever you are, hyung.”

He reasons that this is all in the name of acting. All for the sake of art. He needs to know what Sunwoo will do in this situation, to accordingly feign a response.

Except he’s feigning nothing .

He barely processes the millimetre between them, and then suddenly, the warmth against his mouth. His pulse buzzes, hummingbird-like.

Sunwoo breaks away before he can respond, eyes imploring. “Was that alright? For their first kiss?”

Changmin recalls the specific kiss in the script. It’s chaste, sweet. Almost what they had done, aside from the fact that it should’ve been him making the move. Changmin nods, craning his neck to peck him again. Sunwoo stares, eyebrows raised.

“I was meant to initiate,” Changmin reminds, peering at Sunwoo through his lashes. Calculating, hopefully. Coy, even. Anything that doesn’t betray the absolute circus that is his heart right now. “Were you that excited to kiss me?”

This catches Sunwoo off guard, and he rubs the back of his reddening neck. “I—well, when you put it like that—”

Changmin laughs, but he can feel his cheeks heating up. “I’m just messing with you. I know you’re committed.” He blinks, processing his words. “To the role, I mean.”

“Yeah…” Sunwoo trails off. He shakes his head, gesturing to the script they’d left aside. “Should we try another one?”

It’s longer this time. The demon will break away to glance at him, and the angel will chase his touch until they reconnect. A slight push and pull. Faint mint seeps between his teeth and onto his tongue. Oh, so he wasn’t the only one hoping to perfect this. Changmin tries not to smile.

There is one where he’s supposed to be up against a tree. They make do with the next closest thing: a wall.

But it’s rougher. Heavier.

Hands on his shoulders, his kisses almost needy. Changmin supposes that makes sense though, considering the scene, but reaching for the other, he’s losing sight of the boundary he was supposed to keep to. Sunwoo’s lips follow a path—corner of his smile to chin to jaw to pulse-point. This is in the script. Sunwoo’s kisses are open-mouthed on his neck. This is still in the script. There are teeth grazing his skin. This is not explicitly mentioned in the script, but it does say that the angel will end up with a—

The teeth are gone.

“The make-up team will give you the hickey,” Sunwoo mumbles against his neck, head still in Changmin’s grip. “The fake hickey.”

Changmin loosens hold. “They will.”

“Sorry, I almost got carried away there.” Sunwoo draws away with apologetic eyes.

Changmin ruffles his hair. “Like I said, you’re committed. We’re gonna do great.”

But when Sunwoo leaves, he finally allows himself the thought of what could’ve happened, if only.

If only he’d taken Kevin’s advice and been less hesitant about signals. If only Sunwoo had kept going, and left a little memoir on his skin. If only Changmin wasn’t plagued by ghosts he thought he’d buried. 

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

It’s not the first time they’ve kissed of their own will. The memory resurfaces more often lately, and he finds it haunts him on the eve of the filming. It dawns on him that he’s going to be seeing Sunwoo up close and personal, more than he ever has.

He recalls a mutual friend’s brand-launch party from six months prior, and wonders if Sunwoo remembers it too. When they’d both laughed in surprise upon meeting in a bathroom of all places, Changmin tipsy and Sunwoo so much worse, stumbling in.

“Sorry,” he’d mumbled as Changmin steadied him. He’d waved a hand in front of Changmin’s head like he was casting a spell. His fingers had looked so beautiful, and Changmin had an insane thought of putting his lips along their willowy elegance, maybe press compliments along his knuckles. “Pshhh! Forget this moment, please. M’bit of a mess.”

“No,” something had possessed Changmin to giggle. “No, you’re pretty.”

Accidentally, of course. Liquid courage turned utter stupidity, he would later mourn. But Sunwoo had narrowed his eyes and then returned the compliment ten-fold. The over-incandescent accent lights painted him into something heavenly.

“Two pretty boys in a bathroom…” Sunwoo had slurred, blinking at him slowly, “Will they kiss?”

Changmin had giddily laughed, their noses touching, and said, “I don’t know, you show me.”

He’s still sure he’d meant to say ‘you tell me’, but when Sunwoo had leaned in to slot their lips together, any thought of correcting himself had flown out the window.

Sunwoo had been so, so remarkable a kisser, even in that state. And if it were anyone else, Changmin could’ve chalked it up to the intoxication, and moved on. He could’ve contacted the other in the morning, clarified the situation in sobriety and called it a day. Except he never did. The possibility of Sunwoo laughing it off and putting it behind them—it swirls his insides with anxiety.

(It really would’ve been easy to brand it a mistake, if Changmin hadn’t already been tremendously down bad for him for months leading up to the kiss. If Changmin hadn’t been dreaming of it already.)

And if the opposite happens? His nerves resurface worse, his reasons disparate.

Changmin kicks the blankets off and turns over in his bed. He exhales, shutting his eyes.

He’s an actor. He pretends for a living; he can pretend some more that he isn’t wholly in love with his co-star. If nothing else, this will be the most convincing sex scene anyone has ever watched.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

His worries haven’t entirely dissipated by the morning of the filming, but he’s a professional, and so he powers through. They have left the intimate scene for the last of four, and Changmin’s heart anticipates it in the same manner a ticking timebomb would—nervously counting down, praying it doesn’t detonate to reveal all he’s keeping locked away. None of his other scenes for the day include Sunwoo, something he’s thankful for.

“This is cool as hell,” Kevin muses, when they pull Changmin aside between scenes. The special effects makeup team scrambles to retouch the scars on his back. “It looks so real.”

“Thanks,” says his makeup artist, not looking up from Changmin’s skin. “Honey, we need to take this off for a bit, sorry.”

Changmin nods, and someone carefully helps him out of the shirt. It’s already open in the back where his wing prosthetics would normally protrude, but he supposes they’re worried about staining the pale material. The cool air on his skin serves as a reminder, a warning even—later today, there won’t be a shirt at all. He’s grateful he doesn’t break out in goosebumps at the thought.

“Damn.”

His sigh has several eyes snapping to him, and he realises his thoughts had been spoken aloud. He mentally grapples for an excuse and lands on the easiest half-truth.

“Sorry, I just realised I’m pretty hungry. We should all get something nice tonight for dinner, right?”

One sweet smile, and they’re all charmed, fawning over him and competing over who will treat the Ji Changmin to a meal. Nobody, not even Kevin, asks again if something is wrong—perfect, they don’t suspect a thing. Changmin pushes his worries aside for the remainder of the filming.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

It only dawns on him again when they switch to a different location.

The team that accompanies them is a lot smaller, and if anything goes wrong, Kevin is just a call away, even if he isn’t allowed on set. He squeezes Changmin’s shoulder before they part, mouthing him good luck.

The set that they have prepared is gorgeous. He’d seen the planning and the vision beforehand—curtained windows, the dim, silver-blue lighting, the bedding a deep scarlet. A juxtaposition of gothic intricacy and gossamer splendour.

Changmin has filmed things bordering on steamy before, but they’d always cut the scene before clothes started coming off. He’s thankful that the first time he’s delving into this sort of thing is with someone he trusts. His co-star had promised him—one word, and he’ll halt everything for his sake.

And gosh, Sunwoo. Devastatingly beautiful Sunwoo.

Changmin should be used to this look on him now. The heavy blush that’s been ever-present under his eyes throughout this whole project, and the long strands of hair that fall over them. The fake lip-piercing so pretty that Sunwoo was considering getting a real one. The faux-fangs that peek out when he smiles in greeting.

He’s mythical, and Changmin takes a moment to will his heart to calm down.

The rehearsal is the fastest they’ve ever done. And then, it’s lights, camera, amour.

They’re a stellar pair, the pauses between their sentences even better than what they’d rehearsed. The earnestness in his voice when it drops quiet, the gentleness of his hand as he strokes Changmin’s cheek. He can count on Sunwoo to put in two hundred percent when he needs to.

And when they kiss, he’s momentarily taken back to that hazy memory in the bathroom.

“They were wrong about you,” Changmin remembers to whisper when they part. It’s so hushed he worries they may have to re-do this, or record the audio later. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”

A soft peck to his jaw. “Never.”

Here, Changmin will pause, edge away slightly so that the other will look up in surprise.

“Angel?”

“I’m no angel,” Changmin sighs, hugging himself when Sunwoo eyes him in question. “Not anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

One, two, three beats of silence.

“What did they do to y—”

Changmin turns his back to Sunwoo. The gauzy shirt doesn’t slip off him as smoothly as they hope, and it leads to a couple more takes, the two of them snickering whenever it catches on the scars. But once they successfully get it to slide off and onto the floor, the game faces are back on.

Sunwoo snaps into character instantly with a horrified gasp at the reveal. Envelopes him in an embrace when Changmin turns back around, his scars now visible for the camera to catch.

“They said once you had my wings, you’d be finished with me.”

“No,” Sunwoo objects, voice thick. He’s tearing up. “No, I never wanted your wings.”

Slow, deliberate locking of their gazes. Changmin is backing him up against the bed. “My blood? To ensure immortality?”

“No…” Sunwoo reassures. He stumbles backwards, now seated conveniently on the mattress. His eyes spill over.

“My,” Changmin catches a tear along his finger, “tears, then? For eternal joy?”

“No,” Sunwoo reiterates, pulling him in by the waist, leading him to sit on his lap. “No, all I wanted was you. Wings or no wings. Just you. Just us.”

Curving his lips ever so slightly, Changmin cradles his face. “That’s all I want too.”

Hasty hands undo each other’s clothes; the rhythm of their mouths are hurried this time. Changmin prepares himself for what’s to come.

There’s a scene pause for the crew to properly help them out of their outfits. They have to take another moment to reattach one of Changmin’s pointed ears, when it falls off in the process of undressing. In the time someone retouches his makeup, he speedily gives himself at least three pep talks.

He does everything in his power not to ogle Sunwoo’s body when it’s just the two of them again. Continuing off from where he’s seated on Sunwoo’s lap, as the other kisses down the column of his neck.

“Can I touch them, my love?”

Changmin almost breaks character. That endearment wasn’t in the script.

“Angel—” Sunwoo starts to amend, probably trying to make up for catching him off-guard.

Changmin interrupts him with a peck. They don’t get called out for going off-script. When they break away it’s just slightly enough for Changmin to tell him, “Yes.”

Sunwoo’s fingers run along the scars with all the lightness of a floating feather. Changmin curls his body into Sunwoo’s, shutting his eyes and feigning pain. Sunwoo murmurs an apology, and they’re locking their lips again. It’s an electric sort of feeling when he moves to hold Changmin’s waist.

They’re interrupted again momentarily to be sprayed with mist—just enough that there’s a soft sheen along them both. Sunwoo is lucent, and the image goes right into his pulse, immediately driven into a faster rhythm. Changmin is glad for the reality check and the timing, because any further and they wouldn’t have to emulate the look of sweaty skin. Which would be embarrassing for everyone involved.

And then Sunwoo is laying him back against the pillows, hand gripping his thigh. A kiss to his forehead, Changmin’s hands snaking their way onto his shoulders as he situates himself accordingly. He tries not to mind the camera on their left.

There’s a brief glimpse at him, eyes gentle and concerned. Changmin can’t see where Sunwoo ends and where his character begins.

(There’s a small part of him that hates how much he likes having Sunwoo dote on him this way, even if it’s an act.)

When they begin to go through the motions, his first gasp is as per the stupidly meticulous script, but the next one—even with the small cushion placed between them—is… involuntary. He’s never been more glad for modesty garments.

He can hear the director chanting ‘more passion!’ in the back of his mind, and wonders if that still holds true in this scene. There is a little guilt that his reactions right now are rooted partially in truth, but if they can get through this now, it’d be a new record for any scene they’ve worked on so far.

Get it together, he thinks, blinking up at Sunwoo.

Half-mast eyes, mouth parted as he lets out the prettiest sound. Changmin reaching out to thread his fingers through Sunwoo’s hair is in-line with the script. Accidentally tugging on the strands before his hand falls back down though, is not. Sunwoo isn’t fazed, kissing him hard, and continuing. Changmin can’t help but look at Sunwoo like he would give up the whole world for him.

Which technically is very in character for the angel, but scarily, also for something realer and deeper within him as of late.

But they’re moving; frenetic, scorching, heavy with longing. He thinks maybe some of the moisture along his body is real, and wonders if he’s the only one overheating. It’s just simulation, the friction between them isn’t by any means physically real , but Sunwoo’s eyes meet his for just a moment again, and the moltenness of them pushes Changmin’s heart into overdrive, legs tightening around him. They cry out one after another, voices gradually growing louder, higher. Changmin finds Sunwoo’s hand, their fingers lacing.

“...ut! Cut! Cut! Guys, your lines!”

They part for Changmin to brokenly present him with some sort of promise to stay, which he’d just missed the cue for. Sunwoo's eyes are dazed, still trained on Changmin’s mouth, and he blinks a couple of times before he snaps out of it. Perhaps neither of them heard the director. It makes it a little less mortifying when they share a small laugh.

“Sorry!” Changmin calls out, as a few crew members rush in again, director included. He’d forgotten about the cameras for a moment. Robes on again. He’s brought back to earth for now. “One second earlier, I know. Do we have to take it from the top again?”

The director gives it some thought, and to their surprise, he shakes his head.

“It was actually almost perfect. We just need the last bit, just before where you hold hands.”

“Got it, boss,” Sunwoo says, saluting his way. The director snorts, and makes his way back to the monitoring zone. “Hear that, hyung? Almost perfect.”

Changmin rolls his eyes, poking his chest. He hopes it hides the very real flush on his face that isn’t from the makeup palette. “Emphasis on almost. Don’t get cocky when we haven’t reached the finish line.”

But Sunwoo is beaming, and he tucks Changmin’s hair behind his ear before he hops off the bed. It feels a lot different to when Kevin did this. Someone is dabbing at his face and dusting his cheekbones with glitter; someone else is spraying more mist along his collarbones.

Pretty soon, they’re back to filming again. And when their fingers intertwine, their final lines floating through right on time, the concluding ‘cut!’ resounds. It feels like a long-awaited victory.

Even more so when Sunwoo’s head lifts from where it’s nestled against Changmin’s shoulder, and there’s a blinding grin—they were right to cast him as this charming demon. The fake fangs gleam when he bursts into laughter, nose scrunching up.

Angel and demon. A perilous, outlawed entanglement. And a love so ardent that they’d throw away everything else for it.

It truly is such a cliché trope, Changmin thinks, returning the smile.

(The warmth pooling beneath his ribs is a giddy spiel that Kevin has to deal with later. He flicks Changmin’s forehead with a triumphant ‘I told you so’ before pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. His hold grows twice as reassuring when the thrill wears off, replaced by realisation and the woe of old memories he’s tried to snuff out.)

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

He hasn’t always been so guarded. Changmin had once believed in the power of love, back when he was young and naive.

The public has little mercy for those in its eye, and the statement held true when news of an earlier romance had somehow leaked. It had been distressing to rookie actor Changmin, both agencies rushing to liaise damage-control as articles had piled up rapidly. But he was in love, and love would persist through the good and bad.

Right?

Wrong.

Words are weightier than people realise, and to be constantly pelted by them eventually weathers you. Admiration teeters on the line of obsession, and strangers who thought they knew what’s best for them started seeping into their lives.

Changmin knew Jinsoul was trying to be strong for him, because they mirrored each other. Her idol career was her world, and Changmin would never speak ill of those who had helped her build it up, even if some of them were chipping away at his sanity. He had figured it must’ve been much worse for her.

It’s when they had started finding ‘fanmail’ of the concerning kind within too close a vicinity to him, that Jinsoul intervened, and suggested they put an end to it. Logically, he knew better than to put up a fight, but his heart had given it one more feeble attempt.

“Noona,” Changmin had whispered, desperation high. But he knew. They both knew. “Please—we can get through this—we can do bett—no, no, I’ll do better—”

“Changmin.” Her tone had been warm, but too gentle. Too serious. Jinsoul doesn’t speak like that except to relay unsavoury news. “Hey, my sweetheart.”

The endearment hurt so much more because he knew what was coming. Because he knew it would be the last time she’d call him that.

“It’s not that we need to do better,” she had said, and he remembers her reaching out, presumably to touch his hair. He remembers watching her hesitate, fingers fall away, like she was giving in. “We’ve done the best we can. I just don’t know if it’s really worth the trouble when…”

“When we’re both miserable,” Changmin had finished, feeling incredibly stupid because she was right. They hadn’t enjoyed a date in months. How could they, when every shadow at every corner had started to look foreboding?

A note scrawled in red under his pillow had been the final straw. And though he sleeps under a different roof now, years later, he still gets chills when he remembers.

Some may complain that he’s overly cautious with love, and others may still bring up his history and claim that he’s not careful enough. Jinsoul has always told him he’s too nice to some of these folks anyway.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

Changmin eyes his food with suspicion.

“You need energy before we get back to the set,” Juyeon says, already halfway through his meal. “I don’t treat people often, you know.”

It’s a bold-faced lie, because Juyeon—unbelievably charitable and unsuspecting—cannot go a week without being roped into buying someone’s coffee. Changmin doesn’t doubt his good intentions, but he knows Juyeon well enough to see through these attempts of subtlety.

“What’s the real reason you wanted to get me lunch?”

Juyeon sighs heavily like his big cover has been blown. It’s kind of endearing, really.

“How are you doing after the scene?” he asks, all kind eyes and softly curled mouth. “You left right after the final take, and even through a phone call I could only reach Kevin. But I want to check in with you directly, especially because this is your first time shooting something like this.”

Changmin’s smile emerges on its own, and he reaches for his chopsticks. Of course Juyeon would go the extra mile just to do his job. He supposes that's why he’s invaluable to the team.

“I’m fine.” He finally helps himself to the japchae, now that he’s confirmed this isn’t a ploy to request a favour—though this is probably the last person who would try that. He wonders if Juyeon realises how perceptive he is, because he’s been craving this all week. “Well, you monitored everything. It went smoothly, and Sunwoo was very...”

Gentle? Sexy? Cautious, and yet overwhelmingly magnetic? So full of consideration that one might even mistake it for romantic? So intensely alluring that Changmin’s brain revisited the memory in a dream that night? He can’t think of any way to describe Sunwoo’s etiquette when pretending to tenderly plow someone into the sheets.

“Sweet,” he settles on, lamely. “And professional.”

Juyeon is doing that thing where he looks to the ceiling slightly and nods, like he’s ticking off an invisible check-list. Changmin isn’t too sure what the post sex scene check-in usually entails, but he’s certain it can’t be anything difficult to ask him.

“Is there anything else?”

The long inhale before he leans a little closer over the table has him nervous. Changmin hopes they don't need to re-do any part of the scene.

Voice low, Juyeon asks, “No, but are you alright?”

“Hmm, it’s a little early to start having memory problems,” Changmin jokes, not liking how serious he looks. “You just asked me that, Juyo.”

“Once, as my job,” Juyeon explains, holding up a finger, and then two. “And again, as your friend this time.” When Changmin doesn’t answer, he gets straight to the point. “You like him.”

Perhaps he’s too perceptive.

He loses his grip; the chopsticks clatter against the bowl. Changmin gathers himself and gets back to eating. He’s suddenly very thankful for the volume of the music the restaurant is playing.

“Changmin, you like him,” Juyeon repeats, his gaze a little pitiful. It’s futile to even try and deny anything at this point. “It’s gotta have impacted you to, uh, be with him like that.”

Changmin holds a hand up, reaching for his water. “Stop.”

“Dude, we were all worried it’d be hard on you,” Juyeon explains, but Changmin just watches him, brows raised. “Jaehyun-hyung didn’t know if he should ask you, because, well, the script is technically confidential—”

‘All’ coupled with that name implies only one thing. But he can appreciate this, even if his friends probably all discussed it in a group chat without him. He shouldn’t be surprised whenever they see past his guise—it comes with the friendship, Chanhee had once told him.

“I’m really fine,” Changmin promises, downing more water. He looks over the rim, and flashes Juyeon a small smile. “You can report back to everyone that there’s nothing to worry about.”

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

Changmin is battling demons this entire project—figuratively and literally.

When the scenes don’t include them getting handsy or heartfelt, their characters are dodging fists and narrowly avoiding blades. Kevin had initially worried about him doing most of the stunts without a double, until they found out Sunwoo was on-board to do all his stunts on his own.

“He said it gives him some kind of gratification,” Younghoon had explained with a shrug. “Personally, I just think he’s insane.”

Changmin is done filming for tonight, but he’s curious to see Sunwoo in action. He thinks he can understand, watching everyone get into place, and the way Sunwoo’s expression shifts—to do it all on your own adds to the authenticity of the art. Sunwoo’s gaze hardens, the sharpened eyes different to anything he has directed at Changmin’s way in their scenes.

(Changmin reluctantly acknowledges the flutter in his stomach. He wouldn’t mind being on the receiving end of that look, too. Maybe.)

Sunwoo is more impressive than he gives himself credit for. He is swift with his movements and sure in how he defends himself. Changmin almost forgets this is all choreographed beforehand to be safely performed, twisting the bottom of his sleeve in between his fingers as he watches Sunwoo take hit after hit.

It happens when one of the extras trips, and collides with Sunwoo on her way down. Sunwoo is thrown sideways into the side of one of the props—an abandoned wooden carriage—and ends up on the floor, clutching his arm.

There is a rush to put the carriage back up properly, and someone else is helping the actress up. Changmin is by Sunwoo’s side before he can properly comprehend his actions, pulling him to his feet.

“Are you okay?” he blurts out.

Sunwoo stares at him in surprise. “Hyung, you’re still here.”

“I wanted to watch.” He tries to subdue the urgency in his tone, patting around Sunwoo's arm with a gentle palm. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

It takes him a moment to realise how silent it’s gone. He’s just barged into the middle of this, even if filming had been paused to get everything back in its place. He’s bared his heart to not just Sunwoo, but the entire set, too preoccupied with the possibility of him being in pain.

And for a brief second, he’s not even scared to do this in front of so many eyes.

“I’m fine. It might bruise, maybe? A little.” Sunwoo’s smile is nearing its usual mischievous charm. “Worried about me, are we? How sweet of you.”

Changmin laughs, but it’s more nerves than snark. A realisation is slowly being pieced in his mind. “Don’t make this weird. I’ll kick you so you do need help.”

Sunwoo is squishing his face between his palms, a grin breaking out on his face. “You’re so cute. I’m okay, don’t worry.”

Changmin shakes him off, grumbling defenses for his behaviour. He slaps Sunwoo’s arm half-heartedly as he makes his way back to where he was before.

“Let’s get dinner after this!” Sunwoo yells out after him, and Changmin gives him a thumbs up, not looking back. Heat is blooming on his face and he’d rather crash into the carriage himself before he lets Sunwoo see.

Back in his own little corner, his flushed cheeks lift without his permission. Changmin reaches up and finds that he can’t quite calm down his smile.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

On a Sunday, the trailer is unveiled, and with it, much of what people have to say about it. And about them.

toror
oh my!! ji changmin in a fantasy role? his last drama where he plays a college student was incredible. he’s really branching out, huh? 🥺 i’m super excited for this!!

loblollies
any other long time fans here? i like them both so this is a really exciting project! the tension is crazy, even in a trailer. cheering them on <3

pinkecho.mp3
lol i doubt anyone will support him after this film

anamneza
Hey, Changmin fan here! They’re cute. Bamtori I hope you kiss every day ♡

Changmin only catches a few during the day because he’s on set, but once he gets a sliver of a break, he’s stuck in an endless circle. His fingers scrolling, and his eyes glued to the screen, lower lip bitten in worry.

bellyaches
the dreamy lighting… that split second eye contact at 1:27… the incredibly well-done intimacy… director is my life a joke to u

oceanmist
there’s so much woke bullshit in this wtf r u talking about

cinema (dee)votee
everyone complaining about the queer themes must not be familiar with the director :\ this is going to be a fucking masterpiece

The comments simply do not stop. He thinks he’s going to be sick, and whether that’s anxiety or excitement gone wrong, he has no idea. Someone offers him a beverage. One of the junior actors; the one with large, cat-like eyes and a handsome smile, who’s also decked out in angel-wear.

“Oh.” It comes out papery. He wracks his brains trying to remember the boy’s name. His mind is blanking out. “Thanks, um…”

“Yang Jungwon. I’m angel number four,” he reminds, not unkindly. Jungwon pushes the cup into his hands. “I hear it tastes better while it’s cold.”

sunwooluvr5eva
using sunwoo and suggestive scenes for clout… that’s what happens when ur old and untalented

23w_23
mind u, they’re both extremely popular actors in their 20s… do u know how dumb u sound

dearsunu
also bamtori have been friends for years. the only clout chaser is YOU sunwooluvr5eva

He thinks there’s a tap to his shoulder. He’s not sure. He lands on a comment that makes him freeze.

jinsoulitaire
lololol so he bats for the other team now as well… jinsoul dumping him must’ve hit too hard

kaliumcityone
pls stop embarrassing the rest of jinseoul city… they broke up ages ago and moved on. it’s super cool of changmin to take this role

sirensong82
idk he’s a little too good at this. jinsoul probably left when she figured out they didn’t share the common interest (women lol)

His pulse rings in his ears. His hands are clammy, and not just from the condensation on the plastic cup. Another tap to his shoulder, tentative. Changmin glances up and Yang Jungwon is still there.

“Sunbaenim,” he begins, and the light tone he keeps to doesn’t hide his worry. “With all due respect… My manager usually says reading the comments may not always be good for you.” His eyes widen, clearly not wishing to offend. They glance down at Changmin’s hands, and then back up again. “But that’s just what works for me. I don’t know if it’s the same for you.”

Someone calls for Jungwon and he leaves with a small bow, but not without another quick dart of his eyes down. When Changmin looks at his hands, he finds that his fingers are trembling.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

Changmin remembers when they’d come out to each other. Two perfectly mirrored paintings of pure anxiety. It was messy and untimely and almost two years after their last text as lovers, but two days after their last as just friends. She’d rushed to explain when the very first article had popped up.

“It’s okay, I promise,” he remembers soothing over the phone. The love between them is no longer the same, but the care never left. “I’m honestly more worried about you. It’s terrible that this is public without your consent.”

It was one thing for the world to see her with a boyfriend, and Changmin had been the unlucky guinea-pig for that experience. He thinks their reactions to a girlfriend would be so much worse.

“I don’t want you to think I lied to you,” she’d said, and he could hear her voice growing thicker. “Or that it was something about you that… made me become like this or—”

“I like guys,” he’d impulsively announced, palms sweating. “Uh, and girls, too. We’re the same, noona.”

“Oh.”

The silence has been uncomfortable, but it was a lot better than listening to her regurgitate presumptuous headlines all while soaking up the blame. The silence had turned into nervous laughter, and then real laughter, and then eventually, a shy proclamation of thanks.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he’d huffed, but he was sure the cadence of his words betrayed the smile she couldn’t see. “This is no big deal. I hope you don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

He could hear it in her voice too, when she’d softly replied, “Likewise, Changmin-ah.”

He remembers the unconditional warmth, and wonders if the rest of the world would be as kind to him as Jinsoul had been that night.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

It turns out, the people love a good cliché, and the trailer creates more buzz than he expects.

“You thought true love triumphing over everything else wouldn’t sell?” Sunwoo asks, and then a small laugh follows, his voice low. “And sex. That always sells.”

Changmin groans, phone cradled between his ear and his shoulder. He isn’t sure what compelled him to call Sunwoo while he was tending to his plants, but here they are. He reasons that it’s normal, given how much closer they’ve gotten, with the project. Still, his heart flutters when he hears the background noise—the traffic and the bustle of the outside world—and realises that Sunwoo wanted to pick up because it was him.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Changmin sighs. It’s been a busy week since the video was revealed to the world. “All the comments talking about the two seconds of it in the trailer…”

The reactions are mixed.

There are a lot of people cheering him on for taking the role, praising his versatility. There are a lot of disappointed individuals, upset that he’s going out of their comfort zone. There are folks grateful that he’s unafraid to portray this romance, and it warms his heart, maybe makes it all worth it. There are also those running their mouths, claiming he’s ‘resorted to cheap, raunchy tricks to stay relevant’. Changmin tries not to think about those ones.

“Don’t forget, they called you for the role specifically, and you just happened to take it,” Sunwoo reminds. “What would some random loser on the internet know about perfect casting? About flawless acting technique and breathtaking beauty?”

Breathtaking. Beauty?

Changmin feels his face go warm, composure dwindling. “Really now?”

Sunwoo hums. “You’re crazy talented. There were scenes that didn’t even feel like we were acting, that specific one included. Consider me a fan.”

His heart does a terrible, painful sort of squeeze. Changmin laughs it off. “The internet would explode if you said that.”

“Yeah, the internet doesn’t know what they’re talking about,” Sunwoo dismisses. “They won’t give you your flowers, but trust me, you’ll get them.”

Changmin puts down the watering can. “What are you scheming?”

Sunwoo doesn’t give anything away, just wishes him a good evening and hangs up. Changmin doesn’t think much of it, but Kevin drops by that night with a small potted plant, just beginning to flower.

“He wanted to deliver them himself, but his schedule is insane right now, so he asked me.” Kevin hands him the plant and then perks up, remembering something. “Oh, also! He asked if you’d be his plus one for the premiere. Silly because you’ll both be there anyway, but…”

Changmin tilts his head. He stares at bright yellow petals. “Who?”

“Sunwoo, of course.”

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

“Should we get matching tattoos?”

Changmin’s head snaps up at that. What, he wants to hiss, and it must show on his face, because Sunwoo clears his throat, breaking their interlocked gazes. He throws an arm over the actor to his left, who’s getting a few broken claws glued back into place on his hand.

“What do you say, Riki? As a souvenir and maybe a team-bonding thing.”

The boy blinks, looking back and forth between them. He’s one of the younger demons, Changmin remembers this time. Demon number eight.

“I don’t know…” Riki replies, his smile awkward. “I’m sure it could be fun, but I’m, uh, not too sure about a tattoo… yet? Sunbaenim.”

Sunwoo laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. The makeup artist gives him a look for almost ruining their work. Sunwoo apologises immediately, head in a meek bow.

“Hyung’s joking,” he says, holding up his hands. “We can totally do something less permanent. You don’t look old enough for a tattoo.”

“I turn twenty this y—”

“Dinner with the junior actors,” Sunwoo interrupts, snapping his fingers and getting to his feet. “I promised the demon group chat the other day, right? Should we go tonight after we finish up here? Me and Changminie’s treat.”

Poor Riki looks absolutely starstruck.

“You can bring the little angels, too,” Changmin adds, hoping to ease his nerves. He searches through his brain for a familiar name. “Tell Yang Jungwon to come.” Riki’s eyes gleam at the name. Bingo. There are more, and his foggy memory tries its best. “Lee Heeseung.”

“Sunghoon and Jaeyunie, too,” Sunwoo adds helpfully. “All the kids, okay?”

“You know our names,” Riki whispers, still shell-shocked. A different crew member gestures for him to make his way over to one of the props he’ll be using.

“I can give you a lift, okay?” Sunwoo calls out after him, chuckling at how Riki’s eyes grow wide. When he turns to Changmin, his shine softens, not quite dulling but becoming a little quieter. Like this version is meant only for him. “How cute. Do you remember when we were like that?”

He does.

Sunwoo had reacted similarly when they’d both been put in the same position as rookie actors by a well-respected senior actress. And now he’s become the supernova instead, drawing everyone in with his light. There’s something fond budding behind his ribs at the thought that he’d been there for a big portion of it—and that Sunwoo, too, remembers it all in warm nostalgia.

His brain is grappling with some things. The extent to which Sunwoo’s lustre truly affects him. How much it has been affecting him. How long it’s been since someone had really made him feel like this; daring despite the danger. And how badly this could fuck them over, in a matter of seconds, should the wrong people find out.

There’s a nudge to his side.

“I guess it’s just you and me for the tattoo, then. Cool. Like couple tat—”

Changmin whacks him on the arm, but he doesn’t disagree.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

Their final day of filming ends with heavy rain. Changmin is just glad they’d been done with outdoor shooting before this week, even if this means he probably just has to go back home afterwards. The planned congratulatory team dinner is postponed as thunder bellows from above.

Sunwoo sidles up to him while he waits for Kevin. He smiles, the fangs gone and his face clean and shiny. He’s kept the piercing for god knows whatever reason.

“They said I could,” he says, shrugging. “What, you don’t like it?”

“I—” Changmin has to choose his words very carefully, now that they’ve stepped out of their characters. This is Sunwoo, his very good friend. His co-star. There is a line between them as coworkers, right? He can’t cross it, lest he show too much and start the domino effect that’ll ruin their lives. “I don’t think that matters, does it? If you want a real one, that’s your call.”

Sunwoo purses his lips, and Changmin’s eyes dart back down to the metal. There is an involuntary flashback to the feeling of it against his own mouth. Changmin looks away before he can wonder if it’d feel any different if the jewellery was real.

“I want you to like it though.”

Changmin wonders if he heard Sunwoo right.

“If I get one for real, I’d hope you would like it,” Sunwoo muses, his eyes big and earnest. It’s unfair. Changmin can’t deal with all this.

“I like it,” he hurries to say, doing everything in his power to keep his eyes from wandering down again. “You look great. Though my opinion really shouldn’t matter—”

“Your opinion matters to me,” Sunwoo interrupts, squeezing him into a side-hug. “Which is why you’re deciding what we should pick up for dinner.”

Changmin scoffs, trying to wiggle out of his hold. It’s only when they approach Sunwoo’s place, does he realise what the other meant by ‘we’. He had assumed Sunwoo’s manager would also be joining since they share a place, but Younghoon waves them goodbye once they reach the building.

He’s never been in Sunwoo’s home before.

It’s very him in every sense, and Changmin is so fond. He knows of Sunwoo’s life, but it’s different to see it out on display. Bookshelves of romance manga, cute little character-themed things here and there, the humongous box labelled ‘fanmail - don’t throw away’. Even the overall messiness, which he expected, makes him smile a bit.

They don’t do much. They eat, savouring the mutual silence. Enjoying the lack of cameras, or people ushering them into place. There are no lights shining on them except through the window. In a life so chaotic, the pause is very welcome on some days.

“Why’d you bring me here?” Changmin asks. They’re in the living room, sprawled out on a rug that’s too fluffy to be Sunwoo’s choice. Changmin makes a mental note to ask Younghoon where he got it from.

Sunwoo turns his head to watch him, eyes all soft. Perhaps he’s gotten too used to his character. “Because I wanted to see you, obviously.”

“You’ve seen me for months now,” Changmin laughs, incredulous. “Almost every day, I might add.”

“I know.” Sunwoo laughs, sheepish. And though the world beyond the window is clouded grey, night almost falling upon them, the living room feels splashed in sun. If he stares for too long, Sunwoo starts to look golden. “I didn’t want that to stop just yet.”

For a moment, it seems like he wants to say more. There’s anxiety gnawing at his insides at the thought of it being something he can’t handle. Changmin rolls the opposite way and sits up, peering out of the window.

“Looks like rain’s not stopping any time soon.”

Sunwoo’s smile isn’t deterred by Changmin’s clear attempt at a diversion. It’s different from all the smiles he’s directed Changmin’s way when they’re on camera. There’s something subdued about it. Like the time he asked about the tattoos.

“Lucky me,” he says, staring at the ceiling. “I guess I get to keep you here a little longer.”

When he texts Kevin that he’ll be spending the night, all he gets is a selfie of both their managers, at what looks like a bar. And then a text saying ‘be safe’ . Cue the winky face. And the sweat emoji. The pregnant emoji. A stupid amount of eggplant emojis.

Changmin sends back something angry, cheeks burning. They end up being very, very safe, when Sunwoo offers his bed to Changmin— the cushier option, better for the back, he reasons —and opts to sleep on Younghoon’s for the night.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

The night of the premiere isn’t as nerve-wracking as he expects it to be. Partially because Kevin gives him a pep-talk beforehand, and partially because Sunwoo wishes them ‘good luck’ before they both step out onto the red carpet from the same car.

Changmin isn’t new to the quick flash of cameras at events like this, but he is very aware of the hand in his. The PR team and the stylists had been in cahoots for this, and he thinks they must make quite a sight.

Their suits—pale, pearlescent powder blue next to an almost-black that shimmers red upon movement. Maroon rhinestones mimicking the scars from the movie; intricate silver embroidery, plume-like. Changmin’s platinum hair is feathery, and the miniscule jewels on his face are tear-like. Artfully gelled strands fall over Sunwoo’s eyes—sultry makeup returned, along with the godforsaken lip-piercing.

They could not look more different, still reflective of their characters. And yet they work so well, and everyone around them eats it up.

“Which one do we do?” Sunwoo murmurs. Changmin recalls the two ideas they had discussed—polite and sweet, or something a little flirty and scandalous—and thinks of a third.

“Neither. When I fall, catch me.”

“What? Okay—”

Sunwoo’s panic doesn’t show on his face and he is quick to act as a safety net. The surprised parting of his mouth, however, has everyone scrambling to take a photo. He’d ‘tripped’ gracefully—albeit naturally, pretense is his career—and Sunwoo’s hands are at his waist and his back, Changmin’s arms shooting out to twine around his neck. For support, of course.

Blinking up at him bashfully is a piece of cake. It helps a lot to be in love with the guy. The camera clicks are unrealistically fast.

“Holy shit, you’re good,” Sunwoo mumbles, helping him back into position. Then his mouth quirks, fingers gingerly adjusting Changmin’s hair. He can picture his stylist crying. “But I can play this game too.”

Changmin wouldn’t normally be affected by the almost-smirk, but on Kim Sunwoo, it does something terrible. If smugness on Sunwoo ignites a spark in him, then tenderness absolutely shrouds him in wildfire.

He finds out the hard way, eyes trained on the screen once the lights go down. Perhaps his judgement of clichés and romance was premature, or perhaps it is the fruit of knowing all the work that went into it, but the movie exceeds his expectations by a landslide. Tasteful shots, detailed costuming. Beautiful soundtrack, heart-wrenching dialogue.

Of course, Sunwoo’s delivery is top-notch. He’s sought out for a reason.

And while he’d been on the receiving end of Sunwoo’s melted gold stares throughout the production, it’s different to watch Sunwoo watch him. So ardent, so tortured. So… longing.

When they get to the intimate scene, Changmin can’t even really focus on it. All he can think about is how softly Sunwoo has been looking at him through the entire film so far, leading up to this part. Once the heat of it dies down, all he can think about is how impossibly softer his eyes get for the remainder of the film.

(Changmin’s stomach churns at how real it looks. His mind flashes with memories of starfished bodies on the living room floor, of lemon-hued petals on his windowsill, of laughter and the smack of liplock echoing through a bathroom.)

A hand squeezes his own. Sunwoo is still looking at him the same way even as the credits roll.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

Their little red carpet trick makes for a hot topic.

Fans and haters alike are buzzing with questions. Sunwoo scrolls through commentary over lunch—Changmin’s treat. They’re tucked away in a booth at the back, masks and caps off. A rare moment of normalcy that they plan to relish.

“Someone thinks we’re strictly business. That we’re doing all this couple-y shit for attention.”

Changmin stirs his spoon in his bowl. “We are. The gimmicks were greenlit by the PR guys, remember?”

“Well…” Sunwoo’s pause is hesitant. “Well, yes. But they make it sound like we’re strangers, y’know? I think it’s a well-known fact that we are… close.”

The sulky tone makes Changmin glance up. Sometimes he forgets that despite his outward indifference and how he shoulders things with composure, Sunwoo hates being misunderstood. He just never thought the bond between them, or the perception of it, would be so important to Sunwoo.

“Does the whole world need proof that we’re friends, Sunwoo?” he asks, putting his spoon down to reach for Sunwoo’s hand. “You’re the one who’s always telling me that internet trolls aren’t worth my attention.”

“Yeah, because they’re fucking stupid,” Sunwoo mutters, catching Changmin’s hand in both of his. “But—! ‘Business only’? Come on. I need people to know I like you outside of work, too.”

The way he says it makes him wonder if they still mean pure and honest platonic relations . Sunwoo is playing with Changmin’s fingers, his frown growing. There’s a fondness shaping a soft spot in his heart.

It’s more than fondness, he knows, because it creates a sudden surge of bravery. For a moment, he feels like that boy from years ago. The same one that wanted Jinsoul to smile, despite his fears. He wants Sunwoo to smile too, he realises. Even if it’s for something as small as this.

“Sunwoo?” he asks, retracting his hand to grab his phone instead. He puts it up, camera app open and ready. “For the internet.”

Hashtag bamtori, he cheers internally, searching for the chestnut emoticon. Sunwoo looks fitting of the name, all shiny-eyed and roundened expression. That soft spot in his heart? Sunwoo keeps making himself at home there.

(He wakes up the next day to articles about them walking out of the restaurant, Sunwoo’s arm around him. Changmin can’t believe he’s finding out with the rest of the world that he throws himself into Sunwoo’s hold when he laughs too hard.)

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

If there is one person Changmin trusts more than his own manager, it’s the person who stuck by him when he was starting out. Choi Chanhee is a big name now, booked and busy being the nation’s sweetheart, and they’ve barely met at all this year. Still, when Changmin shows up at his door, Chanhee is open arms, no questions asked.

Deep down, no matter what, they’re still those boys, scrambling to pay for the roof over their heads as they chase effulgent dreams. Instead of failed auditions and rejected demos and empty fridges, they will cry about other things, and still cushion each other all the same.

“It’s crazy,” Chanhee muses, staring at his glass. He’s brought out his good wine for this. “You’ve had this dating-ban—self imposed, mind you—for years, and all it took was Kim Sunwoo sticking his tongue down your throat.”

“There was no tongue!” Changmin exclaims, setting his own glass down before he spills it, flailing his arms around. “And I do date. Just not anyone I might have to collaborate with.”

Chanhee snorts, tipping his head back and downing the rest of his drink like it’s a shot. And then he’ll complain that it’s Changmin emptying out his bottles. “Funny how that's working out, isn’t it?”

“Chanhee,” he groans, and the other raises both hands in a show of peace. “I don’t know, I just—I don’t think I want that part of my life to be under watch. But he’s so… open about it, you know? Even when others are there. Even when I’m not there.”

“Yeah, I saw that last video.”

It had just been Sunwoo in an interview for a magazine, all charming as he did a fun little reveal of what he keeps in his bag—for something so roomy, Sunwoo doesn’t really carry much in it. Just bare essentials like his wallet, his charger and maybe any supplements he takes. He’d dangled the plushie attached to one of the straps, and enthusiastically provided backstory on how Changmin had gifted it to him. His smile had been, dare he say, unapologetically lovestruck.

“I don’t want him to feel like he has to hide himself,” he admits. “Not for me, not for anyone.”

Channhee nods, leaning over to grab the bottle. Changmin watches him pour generously into his glass. “Sunwoo’s a pretty relaxed guy. He won’t take it badly if you want to talk about it.”

Which makes him feel even worse. He is beautiful down to his bones, and the last thing Changmin would want to do is to dim his light with his own clouds.

“Jaehyun’s going to be so crushed that he lost to a kid,” Chanhee snickers, and it’s contagious, leaving his shoulders lighter.

Out of everyone he’s turned down, Jaehyun is probably one of few who had still wanted to stay in his life. His logic was that a rejection wasn’t worth burning their entire friendship down for, and Changmin will eternally be grateful.

“Well, hyung being an actor aside, we know he’s not my type.” Changmin narrows his eyes at his friend. He has ignored the faded marks on Chanhee's neck long enough. “But you might know all about him being someone’s type, right?”

He can’t tell if Chanhee is red because of the copious amounts of alcohol, or because he’s a shy little thing whenever they bring this up.

“It’s not—” Chanhee stumbles over his words, trying to make up for his lack of response with startled laughter. “No. Dude, fuck off? We’re not labelling it. It’s casual.”

“Was it casual when he got you the best seat in the house for the last musical he was in?”

“Hey.”

“Was it casual when you had dinner with his family afterwards?”

“Ji Changmin.”

“I’m just saying.”

Changmin knows they try to play it off like they’re no-strings attached, but he’s never seen either of them happier. He’s watching them fall into place right before his eyes. Well, him and every other person with access to the internet. Bashful as he is, Chanhee is still weak for affection—public or private—and Jaehyun has plenty to send his way.

Changmin wonders if he’ll ever become like that again, should the time come. And if he’s unable to, what would the aftermath look like, with someone like Sunwoo? He doesn’t know if he can deal with the calamity.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

Sunwoo double-takes the next time he’s over.

“Is that…?”

Sunwoo reaches for the magazine on the coffee-table. The one with his face on the cover.

“That,” Changmin begins, putting down a glass of water on the surface, “is something Kevin bought.”

On my request, he leaves out. He sits and Sunwoo scoots over, sandwiching Changmin between himself and the sofa’s arm, no consideration for personal space. Whatever, they’ve done stranger things on this piece of furniture.

“So, Kevin got this because I’m on it?”

“He says as my manager, he’s obligated to keep up with these things. Y’know, for the fashion and pop culture.”

Which isn’t a lie. Kevin has said that before, word for word—just not about this specific magazine. Sunwoo doesn’t need to know about the hoops Kevin went through for this purchase, after Changmin despaired about missing the chance to get his hands on the issue.

“Oh, really? Kevin wants to know about,” Sunwoo scans the tiny print next to a full body shot of him, “the one item I always take on every overseas trip?”

Changmin clears his throat. “Exactly. Pop culture.”

Of course, he doesn’t buy it. Still, he spares Changmin from his jesting. He flips through it instead, looking for the section he’s featured in. Kim Sunwoo: From Loveable Chestnut to Devilish Heartthrob.

Sunwoo is picture perfect on the pages, soft flush along satin skin, a cherry stem caught between his teeth, the suspended fruit gleaming just below his glossed lips. They’d finally given him a haircut, the wispy bangs more reminiscent of his usual style—the Sunwoo he meets when their friend group gathers, laid back and effortlessly pretty. He’s almost jealous that the whole world is getting to see this too.

“Like what you see?” There’s a poke to his ribs. How annoying. “The… what did they call me, the heartthrob?”

“They also called you the devil.”

His attempted jab doesn’t work. Sunwoo is crowding him, and when Changmin leans away, he can only curve as far as the sofa lets him.

“Devilish,” Sunwoo corrects, and he’s so close that Changmin can feel the words on his skin. “But you’re into that, aren’t you, hyung?”

Changmin barely gets a retort out before Sunwoo’s nose is against his jaw, nuzzling. He makes stupid, exaggerated growly noises. He only stops when Changmin’s writhing nearly leads to an elbow to his face.

Still, Sunwoo grins.

Still, Changmin keeps him a little closer than he probably should.

“The fangs were cute, weren’t they? They suited me well, right?”

Changmin rolls his eyes, shoving him away. Pulse punching against his ribs.

“It’s the keychain, by the way.” Sunwoo’s voice has quietened, but his eyes are loud, screaming all sorts of emotion. “The chestnut one—the one you got me when we first worked together? It’s my lucky charm, I never leave it behind.”

Changmin becomes aware of his still-lingering palm on Sunwoo. Their heartbeats accelerate in tandem.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

The only thing their team loves even more than having them look in character, is having them all over each other while doing so.

“I get the appeal,” Younghoon admits, slurping his drink. Sunwoo stares with big, longing eyes reminiscent of the pearls going through Younghoon’s straw. “Oh, don’t do that. I’ll get you one after the shoot, I promise. Be more like Changminie.”

Sunwoo glances over at him. “Be prettier. Got it.”

Changmin stares, unable to speak as the makeup artist paints his lip.

“No.” Younghoon snorts, unimpressed. “I meant, have some patience. You fool.”

Changmin tunes out the rest of their bickering, still stuck on the fact that Sunwoo had jumped at the chance to compliment him. The thought, and all the fluttery feelings that are attached, come in handy when they’re posing together.

They’re in black and white again, splashes of crimson tying them together—in the minimal jewellery adorning them, in the thin satin ribbon looped around their pinkies for one picture, and in the stained edges of the otherwise white feathers stuck on their clothes and their hair. Changmin is spared from the detrimental effects of a lip piercing on Sunwoo. Instead, he gets to stare at the pretty reddish hue they’re advertising, right on Sunwoo’s mouth.

The pair poses have them up in each other’s space, eyes on lips and fingers along faces and heads knocked together. The flush of their cheeks have been saturated further for the last few shots, and there is an attempt to blur the lipstick on their mouths beyond the edges.

“I could just kiss him, if that’s what we’re going for,” Sunwoo offers, and when the laughter dies down, Changmin realises he’s dead serious despite the cheeky grin. Oh. “If hyung is comfortable with that, of course.”

Changmin punches his arm. But as scarlet is being smeared past his lip, his mind drifts to what could’ve been if he’d taken up Sunwoo’s offer.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

(Sometimes at night, he dreams of another kiss.

One where they’re both sober and still brave. There is no excuse or script pushing them to do this, just their feelings out in the open. There are no cameras or hungry eyes trying to glimpse them. There is only Sunwoo, who looks at him with so much care.

And Changmin, unafraid to love out loud.)

Changmin wakes up startled and flustered and languishing all at once. There is an aching want that keeps growing. His phone ends up by his ear.

“Hey,” greets Sunwoo, voice rough with sleep. Changmin’s twisted mind wonders if the butterflies would feel better or worse if he could hear this voice in person, at the first light of day. “It’s early. You should be sleeping in.”

“I should be,” Changmin agrees, stretching out under his covers. It’s so hard to admit what he wants, especially when Sunwoo does it effortlessly. He doesn’t know how the other is always so direct. “But since I have the day off, I thought I’d make a generous offer.”

“And what exactly are you offering?”

“Uh,” he begins, and attempted flirtiness morphs into unsurety. “My wonderful presence?”

Please please please sound humorous and charming.

“I’d be honoured, Your Highness.” Sunwoo’s laugh feels like arrows right into his heart. “I have something in the morning, but I can make some time for you after.”

“Oh.” He shakes his head, and then remembers Sunwoo can’t see him. “No, if your schedule is busy, it’s really okay. We can take a rain-check.”

There’s rustling and then another voice, distant but familiar. Changmin guesses Younghoon would’ve woken Sunwoo up anyway if he hadn’t already done so.

“Just Changminie,” he hears Sunwoo explain, and his heart beats funny at the tone his name is said in. “Yep, a latte is fine. Okay, I will.”

“Hey, I gotta go,” Sunwoo tells him. “It goes on until around eleven this morning. I’m all yours after that.”

Changmin wonders if Sunwoo ever thinks about his words before they leave him. But he can’t really be mad, not even as a act. Sunwoo’s words are sincere no matter how he means them, and the butterflies bask in their warmth.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

The dating rumours brew quick. When two leads have incredible chemistry on screen, it’s inevitable. It doesn’t help that their chemistry is noted to extend off-screen, too.

Suddenly there are people speculating about their past interactions, and bringing up certain things they’ve said to or about each other. There are photos of them together that Changmin doesn’t even know how they got—he’s not sure he wants to know. The real kicker is when his own kin start asking too.

“No, she can’t call him her son-in-law,” Changmin stresses, his phone on speaker as he rinses dishes. “Sunwoo can come over for dinner as a friend, if she really wants to meet him.”

There’s a second of silence. “Are you sure he’s just a friend?”

He pauses, heart beating furiously. “He’s a very precious friend to me.”

“How you look at him during interviews says otherwise,” a second voice pipes up.

“Noona!” Changmin whines, putting the plate away before he has the urge to smash it against the wall.

“And I know my brother,” his eldest sister continues, much to his chagrin. “Some of the acting in that film looked too real.”

Changmin’s face burns, and he snatches a mug out of the sink. “You watched the—”

“Don’t worry, we looked away during the parts where you guys had no clothes.”

He does drop the mug, and its shatter coincides with the door to his apartment opening.

“Hey, I bought some—”

Whatever Sunwoo purchased is of less importance, his big eyes staring at the now broken mug. He frowns when Changmin hastens to pick up the pieces.

“Dumbass, that’s the sharp side!” he exclaims, rushing over. He calms down when Changmin exhibits more care in disposing of the pieces. He twists around Changmin to get to the fridge, putting a small tub inside. “They ran out of the flavour you wanted, but I got something you might like.”

“Hi Sunwoo,” his sisters chorus, both of whom he’d momentarily forgotten in his panic. They’re going to have a field day with this conversation.

“My sisters,” Changmin explains, when Sunwoo whirls around on full alert, looking for the source of the sound.

Sunwoo bows, like they’re actually here. “I didn’t mean it when I called him ‘dumbass’.”

The introductions are easy, and Sunwoo slips into conversation with them as he helps Changmin do the dishes. They get along so naturally, he might have to seriously consider the dinner suggestion some time. It’s when water accidentally redirects off a spoon onto Sunwoo’s shirt that he steps away from the sink, hands raised.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I was going to ask if I could use your shower anyway.”

“Sure.” Changmin takes the spoon from him. “Your clothes from last time are washed, in my top drawer.”

He can practically see the gears turning in his siblings’ heads at this information.

“Green towel’s still mine?” Sunwoo asks, and gets a nod. “Okay, we can have the ice-cream after this.”

Luckily, it’s once he’s out of earshot that the interrogation begins. Changmin takes them off speaker, cradling the phone close to his ear.

“Last time?”

“You have a designated towel for him.”

“How often does this boy come over?”

“And he’s buying you ice-cream?”

“Changmin-ah, are you sure you’re not dating?”

“Why do you have his clothes?”

Changmin groans at how their questions keep coming. He lowers his voice when he begs, “Please stop.”

They give him a break, but only after another twenty questions that reveal nothing about their non-existent couple status, and everything about how bad Changmin has it for Sunwoo. It becomes evident when there’s a comment about how Sunwoo is exactly his type, and Changmin simply agrees. He’s tired and his heart is heavy at the reality of their situation.

“See? You should make a move. We’re rooting for you.”

“But if he hurts you, we’ll hunt him down.”

Changmin’s throat feels tight at the thought, and he exhales. “Sunwoo would never hurt me.”

The seriousness in his tone makes them pause. It’s a question.

“I do like him. But…” There are pricks in his eyes, and he feels it coming. “I just… I care about him so much. And everyone’s watching us. What if it doesn’t go well?”

Again, he leaves out. But they still hear it. They're cities away, but he still cannot hide from the women who basically raised him.

“Changmin-ah...” one of them begins, hushed and gentle. Like they used to, when he would cry as a child. “You should talk to him about it. That’s the only way to know.”

He hears the distant click of the bathroom door unlocking, and takes a deep breath. He hastily wipes his cheeks, and tries to keep his voice steady. “Thank you, I think he’s done now. I should go.”

They only hang up after showering him with lots of love to make up for all their previous teasing. They make him promise to visit soon or vice versa, and make him swear to take care of himself. He remembers one sentence when Sunwoo emerges post-shower, damp hair and content smile.

“For the record, it sounds like he cares a lot about you, too.”

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

Changmin thinks he’s going to be bald by the time they finish promoting this movie. The snow-white hair is an otherworldly look, but his scalp is going to give up on him and he’ll be left with nothing but his bare head.

“You would still be pretty,” Sunwoo reassures, and Changmin has a split second to school his wide-eyed reaction into something less transparent.

The interviewer blinks at them. They seem caught by surprise too. “Do you think he’s pretty, Sunwoo-ssi?”

Changmin holds his breath. Sunwoo leans back in his seat, crossing his arms, in deep thought. “Well, you saw the film. Are you telling me you think he isn’t pretty enough to be an angel? The casting director might disagree with you.”

It flusters them into backtracking, panicked apologies flowing fast, not expecting the flip at all. The audience bursts into laughter, and they get an award-winning smile. Great save, Sunwoo.

Changmin laughs too, but attentive eyes are waiting to meet his when he turns back. The softness of them almost makes him crumble. Changmin wonders what he would see if he leans in closer, and peers into the shine of Sunwoo’s gaze. Would he find his own reflection staring back, just as blatantly enamoured?

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

There is no end to the rumours. About how they look at each other, how they touch each other. Changmin is a bug under the general public’s microscope. As his discomfort heightens, he starts building up his armour with defensive statements.

“Can you believe these people?” Changmin hopes his nerves don’t seep into his question. “They think just because we both posted, I dunno, the same song, it means something.”

“It does.” Sunwoo keeps his eyes on the road. They’re on their way to Kevin’s place after Changmin had answered the phone to his manager deliriously whispering about a fever. There are containers of warm food in his arms, courtesy of Younghoon. “It just means we have things in common.”

Changmin’s laugh is more of an exhale. For a moment he thought Sunwoo was implying something else. “It’s still weird isn’t it? For people who don’t know us at all to make these… ridiculous assumptions?”

Sunwoo hums, and Changmin can’t tell if his stoic expression is because he’s concentrated on driving. He seems relaxed enough, one hand on the wheel. Under any other circumstance, Changmin would find it kind of hot—and then maybe lecture him on road safety—but he’s preoccupied with the look on Sunwoo’s face.

“It’s definitely not their business,” Sunwoo finally agrees, but Changmin thinks he’s struck a nerve. Sunwoo isn’t ever this tight-lipped with him. “But I wouldn’t say the assumptions are ridiculous. It can happen to people.”

“Oh.” He tenses up. Has he been found out? “You’re right, it could.”

“Has it ever happened to you, hyung?” Sunwoo asks, as they turn around a corner. His smile returns, but Changmin can tell it’s an attempt at rectification. The sour mood still remains. “Falling for someone you worked with?”

He’s stuck between hating the unease of the unwanted spotlight, and deciding if he wants the one Sunwoo just shone on him. Changmin, for all his insatiable hunger, can’t bring himself to answer.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

Co-stars Ji Changmin and Kim Sunwoo match footwear in a recent photo together—fans and non-fans alike speculate if they are on a date. The two starred in a fantasy film featuring a risky romance, and have been on everyone’s radar ever since. But folks are wondering if the on-screen emotions weren’t simply just—

Changmin places his phone face down, unable to continue the article. It’s terribly written, anyway. Kevin smiles at him sympathetically from across the table.

“No,” Changmin repeats firmly, just like he did the first time he was asked in this meeting. “No, I won’t ‘play it up’ more than we already are right now, to promote the film.”

He had been worried sick when he woke up first thing, to a request from management to meet in person. He’s good at keeping his private and celebrity lives separate, and most of his ‘scandals’ have been something objectively non-problematic. On the off chance he makes the news for something a little juicier, Kevin has always been a great middleman, and it’s always blown over easily.

So Changmin was expecting good or bad news of the extreme when he entered this room. Instead, he was asked to consider something absolutely insane.

“Being in character for events is one thing,” Changmin continues, and he can see Kevin motioning for him to stay calm, “but to publicly say that we are romantically involved is a bit much.”

“So we can’t put out a statement about couple shoes?” The question comes with a weak, but ultimately still defeated, smile. Changmin appreciates them still taking his opinion into consideration—his previous agency wouldn’t have given it a second thought. He may be appalled that they asked in the first place, but he knows he has it better than a lot of people in the industry.

“No,” Changmin replies, sighing. “No, I’m sorry.”

He hopes Sunwoo’s team is navigating this with more empathy.

They haven’t talked about whatever happened in the car the other day, and he becomes progressively more fretful that he’d upset Sunwoo. But then he gets a text, poking fun at the articles, alleviating his worries. Even moreso, when Sunwoo accepts his tentative invitation for dinner.

When they meet up later, Changmin bursts out laughing at the fact that they’re both wearing the shoes regardless.

“Couple shoes,” Sunwoo remarks with a crooked smile, snapping a photo of their shoes from above, touching toe to toe. Surprisingly, Changmin doesn’t feel the same irritation he did from the morning. He’s still antsy about the articles, but in that moment, Sunwoo’s words bloom a gentle heat along his ears.

When Sunwoo sends him the picture later, Changmin considers posting it on social media. It remains a secret only he can unlock, set as the wallpaper of his phone.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

There is an almost. A moment where Changmin thinks Sunwoo will put him out of his misery and kiss him again.

The party this time is much smaller, but everyone’s preoccupied enough that Changmin can slip away for some air without being noticed. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t have been able to squeeze this into his schedule while enduring a pulsing headache, but a friend as dear as Jaehyun? He’s an exception.

“Hyung.”

Changmin feels him before he hears him. He recognises the pace of the fingers trailing along his back.

“Oh hey, you’re here too,” Changmin says, leaning against the railing as Sunwoo joins him outside.

He holds out a cup to Changmin. “You do realise we’re friends with all the same people.”

“Thanks but I don’t feel like—” Changmin blinks in surprise when Sunwoo brings the cup closer to his face. It doesn’t smell like what he thought it was. In fact, it doesn’t smell like anything at all. “Is this just water?”

“You’ve got a headache,” Sunwoo notes when Changmin takes the cup. “I saw you doing the thing where you pinch above your eyebrow, but then you started rubbing your temples so—well, anyway, Chanhee offered painkillers, but knowing you, you’ve probably already taken them. You’d be tipsy by now, otherwise.”

Perhaps Sunwoo should consider roles in the mystery genre. It seems the intuitive charm comes naturally to him.

“Yeah, I’ve been waiting for them to kick in,” Changmin admits. 

He pats Changmin’s shoulder. “My manager always says hydration is important.”

The water doesn’t do anything for his head, but knowing Sunwoo’s mind was set on helping him makes him feel the tiniest bit brighter. “It’s been an hour.”

“You want me to take you home?” Sunwoo offers, forehead creasing with worry. He shrugs when Changmin eyes him suspiciously. “I didn’t drink anything, I’m good to drive. Hoonie-hyung said it’s his turn to get drunk instead of me, he’s sick of driving me home when—why are you looking at me like that?”

Changmin sips the water again. “Awfully considerate of you to let your manager have fun.”

“I can be considerate.”

“It’s not just because you’re a lightweight?”

He takes great pleasure in watching how Sunwoo sputters, hands waving in defense. It’s not often Sunwoo is affected by taunts. It’s sort of… cute.

“Fine, I can’t handle much liquor,” Sunwoo grumbles, but then his expression loses all sulk when Changmin shuts his eyes with a wince. “Hey.”

Sunwoo is taking the cup from him and putting it aside. “Hey, I’m serious, by the way. If you want to leave.”

Changmin tips forward, head against Sunwoo’s shoulder. There are arms around his middle, and then a hand carding through his hair. Sunwoo’s hand—slender fingers and careful touch. Changmin groans weakly when it doesn’t fix the pain.

“Okay, time to go,” Sunwoo declares from right next to his head, but it all sounds so distant.

The rest is hazy.

They interrupt Jaehyun’s attempts at smooching Chanhee to wish him a happy birthday, and Sunwoo promises a blubbering and pink-faced Younghoon that he will return to pick him up. Kevin takes one look at them and tells him not to worry about it. At some point Changmin falls asleep in the passenger seat of Sunwoo’s—Younghoon’s? It’s too discreet to be Sunwoo’s—car. Then Sunwoo is shaking him awake and he’s floating through the car park. The only evidence that it’s not a dream is the warm hand holding his.

It’s when they’re a door frame apart that Sunwoo does something absolutely devastating, and he’s left in disbelief. But he’d felt it, he’s so sure. He’s about to chalk it up to delirium, but Sunwoo’s hands are still holding his head between them, creating a very confused Changmin-sandwich.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Sunwoo reminds, leaning in close again. Pressing one more kiss to Changmin’s forehead. Oh, it was real.

And he’s still touching Changmin’s face, he’s still watching Changmin’s every move. When Changmin’s eyes become slightly downcast, Sunwoo is ducking his head to find them again with his. They’re so, so close. Sunwoo’s eyes dart to his mouth for a split second and then away, like he’d made a mistake. It’s unbearable.

Changmin almost leans in, but Sunwoo is pulling away. He’s never wanted someone to invade his personal space so terribly.

“Get some rest,” he says, his smile unsure—and kind. Sunwoo is always so kind to him. It does little to soothe whatever sting Changmin’s heart feels as he leaves.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

They see the movie again, together and alone. Together, the two of them for the latest screening on a weeknight. Alone, just the two of them in the cinema at this hour.

It gives them a chance to enjoy it like they’re two ordinary people. Celebrity disguises off, comfortable in the emptiness. It’s oddly nostalgic, to watch themselves on screen and think back to the events of the day a certain scene was filmed. They laugh whenever the dialogue gets a little too dramatic.

The first on-screen kiss leads to muffled laughter. By the fifth one, they’re in stitches. The kiss isn’t bad by any means, but Changmin remembers that day—underneath a simulated rainstorm, clothes plastered to their bodies, water dripping past their hair and into their eyes. Changmin’s wings had been extra heavy on his back. They could barely see a thing, and he’s only now paying attention to the results.

“You made that look super enjoyable,” Changmin mentions, as offhandedly as he can. “Even if neither of us could tell what we were doing that day.”

“To be fair, you made it look like you were enjoying it.” Sunwoo’s smile is even more smug when he leans in to whisper. “Or maybe I’m just that good of a kisser.”

Oh, okay. Changmin tilts his head, eyes narrowing in thought. “Maybe I’m the good kisser. The better kisser, at least. Have you ever considered that?”

“What?” If he didn’t know Sunwoo so well, Changmin would think he’s genuinely offended. “In your dreams, maybe.”

This is a dangerous game to play. But in time with how his brain schemes to gain the upper hand, Changmin’s heart also aches.

Attack. Withdraw. He knows their push and pull well by now.

“Oh yeah?” Changmin should really stop it here. Attack. “Prove it.”

Sunwoo is baffled at first, but Changmin—for whatever stupid reason he clings onto to have this—stares at him, unblinking. Daring him to try.

The movie is forgotten, and the darkness cloaks them.

It’s not unfamiliar; Changmin has felt these lips before. But this gives him an idea of just how well Sunwoo collects himself for scenes, because right now, he doesn’t hold back much. He doesn’t kiss heavily, but he does kiss with purpose—granted, Changmin challenged him, but still. The hand that was at his jaw slides further, until it’s behind his head, keeping him in place.

As if saying, stay, and I’ll prove it to you.

Changmin doesn’t realise he’s reached out for Sunwoo, too, not until he feels himself losing grip on Sunwoo’s collar. There’s teeth, careful against his lip, and everything in his body is rushing too quick for him to comprehend.

(He’s good, Changmin has to admit. But he already knew that.)

Sunwoo’s hand searches for his, and this is when Changmin has to accept defeat, his inhale sharp and audible. He tries not to let any other sounds escape when they part.

“Feel that?” Sunwoo asks, and Changmin belatedly realises his hand had been pressed against his own chest. Sunwoo’s fingers closed over it, holding it against his pulsing heart. “Is that enough proof of something, hyung?”

Whether it’s proof of how brilliant Sunwoo is with his mouth, or simply how much Changmin likes him, he’d rather not decide. The anticipation with which he’s being watched is intense, and he wonders if this is still just about their moment of faux-rivalry. If he pulls the disguise off, what comes next?

Sunwoo has made his move, carefully placed the ball in Changmin’s court and stepped away. Attack? Or…

“You win,” Changmin concedes, looking away. Withdraw. “You’re the better kisser. Congratulations.”

Sunwoo doesn’t say anything, but his eyes stay on him for a moment too long—conflicted, and the tiniest bit blue. There is a feeble squeeze to Changmin’s hand before he lets go. For someone so fond of victories, he’s unsettlingly quiet for the rest of the night.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

They don’t bring it up, nor do they get a chance to recover from it, before they’re both whisked off for an overseas event. They’d made rooming arrangements before all of this went south, and Changmin doesn’t want to seem like an asshole and switch at the last minute.

Neither does Sunwoo, it seems.

“Hey,” he ackowledges quietly, from his side of the bed, phone in hand. He doesn’t say anything else.

They polish up their smiles for the photos, of course. Sunwoo holds onto his arm, and they fall back into place too easily. He doesn’t even pay attention for most of the event. The hand that lingers at the small of his back feels like burning iron.

When the mingling starts, he snaps back into reality.

Their delicate facade of normalcy only lasts for a couple of introductions before it crumbles, and Sunwoo looks like he needs space. Someone waves him over—a model, maybe, he’s not sure—and Sunwoo murmurs that he’ll be back. Changmin tells him to take his time.

Changmin withdraws, nursing a flute of something in the shadowy edges of the room. He prays nobody approaches him.

“This is quiet, even for you.”

He’s lucky the snap of his head doesn’t give him whiplash. Memories that have been haunting him are suddenly much too closeby, radiant as the day they’d parted.

“Jinsoul-ssi.”

Her brows contort into that look of pity that he’s familiar with. There is the tiniest pout on her lips. “So formal, Changmin-ah.”

“Sorry, noona,” he corrects sheepishly, blinking around. “Just caught me off guard.”

“You’re jumpy tonight,” she notes, and he groans, running a hand over his face.

“How’s everything?” He needs a diversion, shy under how knowingly she watches him. He’d been doing such a good job at hiding. “How’s… y’know, Heejin?”

If she knows it’s bait, she still takes it. He knew she would. It’s hard to stop someone from speaking if the subject makes their eyes shimmer alive with moondust. Changmin also lets himself be selfishly wishful—if Jinsoul and her girlfriend have survived years since those articles, maybe there is hope in the world. For others like them. For him, if he were to try.

“Enough about my sweetheart,” she concludes, poking him in the arm. Her nails are sharp, much like her gaze. “Where’s yours?”

Changmin’s pulse races, but he plays it off nonchalantly. He cracks under her stare anyway. “He’s not my—that.”

“Do you want him to be?”

He’s already pondered it for so long that the question doesn’t faze him. He watches from their corner. Sunwoo is a distant star once more; burning, untouchable, beautiful. His lack of response seems to be enough of an answer.

“Oh, Changminie…”

She doesn’t say much else, but quietly keeps him company for the rest of the night.

The journey back to their hotel room is silent—suffocatingly so. Sunwoo slips into the shower first, and Changmin takes his time afterwards. When he returns, Sunwoo is curled up on the loveseat under one of the extra blankets, surrendering the bed all to Changmin. 

“Your manager dropped something off.”

The envelope is addressed to the two of them. When he rips it open, he gets a puff of silver in his face, two tickets, and a note in familiar handwriting.

They’re to survive being together in this city for one more day. Changmin holds up the tickets like a white flag.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

Glitter, feathers, and lunar flair.

The concert feels like an otherworldly moment suspended in time. There are winged outfits all around him, mirroring the one they gaze to up on stage. Jinsoul’s darling melds ethereal melody and high energy rock, and it’s enchanting.

So are the stars trapped in Sunwoo’s eyes when they accidentally meet his, their hands brushing. They’re submerged into the split-second, the rest of the world muted. Changmin catches him in his hold, earning him a look of surprise. Sunwoo’s brows draw into an almost-frown before he looks away, taking back his hand and adjusting his mask.

Changmin stuffs his fists into his pockets. They itch to find contact with Sunwoo’s skin again.

“Was the show good? I hope so.”

Afterwards, they’re shown the way backstage, and Heejin looks between them with clasped hands. Jinsoul places a hand on her shoulder. She laughs nervously.

“I actually invited you because I wanted to ask you a favour,” she reveals, her smile going a little sheepish. A little less seraph, a little more human. “I’d like you guys to be in my next music video.”

Changmin pauses. He glances at Sunwoo. The other is staring back, equally nonplussed.

“I really enjoyed Be Awake. I can’t think of a better choice for the pair in the storyline we’ve planned.”

Pair? The concept of pretending to be couple-adjacent again has him feeling sick. Or maybe that’s all his lovelorn yearning he’s been trying so hard to ignore.

“Your chemistry was so natural,” Heejin continues, her tone inflecting into something less sure. “But I know, it’s out of the blue, so it’s alright if—”

“I’d love to,” Sunwoo interrupts, and it’s the first genuine smile Changmin has seen on him this entire trip. “My availability depends on the timing, but I’ll give you my team’s contact details. I don’t know about hyung, though.”

Changmin blinks when he feels Sunwoo nudge him. “Oh, uh. Same here. Thank you for seeing us in person about it.”

Heejin exhales in relief, her expression brightening. “Thank you. You have no idea how happy I am. Thematically, it’s quite similar to the film too, so I was…”

Next to her, Jinsoul gazes at Heejin like she placed every moon in the solar system with her bare hands. Changmin’s mind thinks back to soft brown eyes watching him in the movie theatre, and his heart aches.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

Sunwoo doesn’t have much to say on the journey back. In fact, he sleeps through the entire flight. He does follow Changmin up into his apartment, with the excuse of helping him with his suitcase. The suitcase is tiny so this is a bullshit excuse, and silence has never been louder.

“Sun—”

“I like you,” Sunwoo announces, shrugging at the doorway, wiggling his feet back into his shoes. “But you know that. And I think, maybe you like me too… don’t you?”

His heart speeds up. So Sunwoo knew? But then, lately, why has he been so…

“If you think so,” Changmin wets his lips, nervous, “then why’re you holding back?”

“Because your feelings aren’t a green light for me to do what I want.” Sunwoo keeps his composure and it frustrates Changmin how easily he does so. “I need you to tell me what you want. I need you to… be sure you’re ready to pursue something.”

He’s making too much sense, and they’re flying too close to fears he’s been avoiding. Kevin was right when he said they should’ve just talked it out. But talking has never quite been his strong point. He’s a shelled creature, hiding away behind politeness. And right now, he feels panic at that shell being pulled away.

“Who says I’m not ready?” he ends up asking. For once, Sunwoo doesn’t grace him with one of his boyish smiles.

He sighs, hand running through his hair, pushing it back. The way the strands fall back over his forehead is mesmerising, but there is no time to enjoy it. Not when Sunwoo looks so hurt.

“I don’t know, hyung.” It’s not an answer, it’s barely the start to something else, Sunwoo’s voice edged with exasperation. “The fact that you don’t turn me down outright like you do with everyone else, but the rumours about us possibly actually dating have you skittish?”

Changmin didn’t think Sunwoo would take it that way.

“And that’s fine,” he continues, melted chocolate eyes and shaky smile. “I can understand that—being in the public eye is a pain in the ass, I know that better than anyone. Especially with everything that’s happened to you, I get it. But—”

Sunwoo’s facade crumbles slightly, and through the cracks is a slow-emerging gloom, a familiar unsureness, on his face.

“But you ask me to kiss you while we’re alone, and then you brush it off like it’s some kind of joke. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

Sunwoo’s voice is fragile, just a quiver away from breaking.

“Do you even like me?” Sunwoo begs, and it’s the most defeated he’s ever heard the other sound. “Or am I just—do you just like me for—”

It’s a horrifying realisation. That in his attempt to dodge the pointed arrows of cupid and critiques altogether, he has shot something equally piercing Sunwoo’s way.

“You hate opening up, and I’m good at reading you,” Sunwoo says, fingers on the door handle. “I think that’s why we go together so well. But I deserve to not have to guess—not for this at least.”

Changmin grasps Sunwoo’s jacket, and the other pauses, expectant.

“I…” Changmin begins, but there’s a lump in his throat. His words won’t come out, and his palms feel clammy. It’s not like that, he wants to tell Sunwoo.

“I like you so much,” Sunwoo repeats, forehead creased like this hurts him to say. It’s a knife to Changmin’s chest. “But I can’t do… whatever this is. Not unless you’re ready to talk about it.”

When the quietude stretches on, the other removes his jacket from Changmin’s hold.

“Until then, please just...” There’s a shuddering breath when he finishes, “don’t call me.”

He doesn’t look Changmin’s way when he leaves.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

leejaehyunow
Found a stray puppy, he won’t stop following me now… 🦝

sunwoo
leg day 💪💯🔥

eric.is.youngjae
neither of you are using the right emoticons omg

It’s the first post when his feed refreshes. There are two things very wrong with Jaehyun’s post.

One, Jaehyun only posts once every blue moon, and it’s hardly ever a peek into his personal life.

Two, Sunwoo would normally find any possible excuse under the sun to avoid the gym. He wouldn’t be caught dead commenting about leg day. He doesn’t even know what that is.

Which means Jaehyun and Eric had most likely dragged Sunwoo out there. Changmin wonders how bad it had to have gotten for them to intervene. Or worse, for Sunwoo to voluntarily agree to a whole day of exercise.

It’s been three days since that conversation, and Changmin has wanted to check up on him more times than he can count. Still, the itch in his fingers subsides whenever his gut churns, reminding him that he is to blame for all this. It would be so impossibly cruel to call Sunwoo when he had told him not to. Especially when Changmin knows the other would pick up in a heartbeat.

“Hello?” he whispers, clutching the phone like that’d stop the line from disconnecting. He isn’t sure how his friends are feeling about the situation. Or even worse, about him.

The sigh he gets is pitiful. He appreciates that Eric doesn’t hang up right away. “Changmin-hyung, it’s been a while.”

“Eric, is he at the—”

“The gym, yes. He said he wants to stay in shape in case he gets any more roles that require him to be shirtless.”

If he weren’t worried sick, Changmin would scoff. Right now, all he can manage is a weak, “I see.”

“C’mon, it’s bullshit,” Eric laughs dryly. “Look, as a trainer, I’d be supportive of his sudden personal goals, it if wasn’t so unusual. But he won’t even tell me what happened. I don’t know what you guys talked about, but I know he’s not okay.” Quieter, a bit kinder, Eric continues, “And neither are you. Jaehyun-hyung says Chanhee-hyung says Kevin says you haven’t been eating properly.”

Normally he would be fondly exasperated at how nosy their friend group is, but right now he just feels the already-crushing guilt grow heavier. He’d thought he’d been doing a better job of hiding it. The last thing he wants with all this is to burden even more of his friends—he hasn’t even managed to fix the first mess he’d caused.

“Sunwoo seems really hurt… but hyung?”

“Mm?”

“I think you’re hurting too and you’re doing it all alone,” Eric says, and he feels the first pinpricks of relief in his eyes. “Don’t do this alone, okay?”

He tries to mumble a response, but his vision is blurring all too suddenly. He holds the phone away but he’s sure Eric heard him sniffle.

“Take care, hyung.”

“I will,” Changmin rushes to say, before the lump in his throat grows too large to let words out. “Make sure he has dinner.”

Changmin tries. Every task he starts ends up with him going back to the post, pinching the screen to zoom in. Sunwoo grins for the shot, and to anyone else he would look the same as usual. But Changmin has studied those eyes up close, and he knows what it looks like when Sunwoo is worn out. He knows what it feels like, too—even apart like this, they’re mirroring one another somehow.

It’s nearing midnight when he’s considering a late-night run to soothe his restlessness. Or to use as an excuse to take him somewhere, where there is more to keep him company than just himself and his thoughts. His phone lights up with a name that halts him from lacing up his shoes.

“Can you let us in? Eric hasn’t seen you in a while and there’s this new drama I think you might like.”

He isn’t expecting to hear Jaehyun’s voice after picking up a call from Eric. Much less the softer voices of two others that chime in after. He has to take a moment, willing away the feeling that’s returning to his eyes. He blinks away the burn with a shaky laugh, but he still has to wipe away the proof with his palms. Nobody says anything from the other end.

“We brought food.”

He puts his shoes aside.

When Eric walks in through the door, Changmin doesn’t even get a moment to greet him. Instead, he gets the abrupt reminder of what it’s like to be held together when you’re at your breaking point. Chanhee joins them, his gentleness balancing out Eric’s flurry. Jaehyun binds them all together, grounding and warm. Juyeon pats his arm, holding up a bag of takeaway.

“Just because we were with Sunwoo then, doesn’t mean we’re picking sides,” Jaehyun says, and there’s a quiver to his voice that Changmin recognises despite not hearing it often. It’s hard to forget it when the elder is someone who seldom sheds tears. “Doesn’t mean you can shut us out either, okay? Don’t do this alone.”

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

It’s been a week since he last heard from Sunwoo.

Changmin knew he would miss him, but that doesn’t make the ache any less agonising. His words haunt Changmin’s subconscious, shaky breath and hurt-glossed eyes coming up in his dreams far too often. What’s stopping him from just reaching out—the remorse for having made Sunwoo feel that way, or the fear of breaking him further if he were to speak now—he’s not sure. All he knows is that the longer he waits, the worse he feels. Chanhee had predicted this the other night, and he finds the truth is harder when he’s actually stewing in it.

The movie is on streaming services now and, for better or worse, Changmin finds himself unable to look away. This time it’s truly just him watching, alone. Alone, and aware—of even the smallest change in how Sunwoo moves. Watching him, Changmin realises two things.

One, the director was right to praise Sunwoo on his subtlety. When nothing is being said, it’s all still in how he uses his eyes.

He looks back at the screen. They’re in a cave, Changmin’s wing curled around Sunwoo’s side as they huddle close. Sunwoo lifts his head from Changmin’s shoulder to glance at him.

Two, right now, those eyes say they love him. It’s what they’ve been saying all this time, with or without the cameras.

‘There were scenes that didn’t even feel like we were acting.’

The words echo in him like it was just yesterday, and it stings. The Sunwoo-shaped indent in his life is a lot deeper than he’d imagined it’d become. Everything is a sore reminder.

The sky is ashen, and should it pour down, would it lead to him sleeping under Sunwoo’s sheets yet again, unable to go home? If his flowers no longer blossom, would Sunwoo gift him yellow buds once more? If he digs into the half-empty tub of cookies and cream in his fridge, would Sunwoo show up and pester him for a spoonful, and when Changmin jokingly tells him there’s none left, would he let his eyes dart down to his mouth?

If Changmin stretched towards him, greedy and longing and selfish, would Sunwoo still meet him half-way?

He has to try.

And so here he stands in front of Sunwoo’s building, midnight rain pelting him. Punishing him for waiting even just a second longer. By the time he makes it up to Sunwoo’s floor, he’s at his wit’s end. He could just enter, unless Sunwoo had changed the lock’s code—but that’s a pettiness Sunwoo doesn’t have the motivation for. But Changmin stands still, thoughts pooling inside him, and worries pooling in his eyes, and water pooling at his feet. He’s one second away from drowning.

His knocks on the door are scattered in rhythm, hands shaking. 

“Coming, coming, please wai—hyung?”

Sunwoo opens the door wider upon seeing him. He opens his mouth to speak, but then presses his lips together. Watching with expectantly. If this were a movie, the music would’ve crescendoed right then, fading into something hopeful as they locked eyes.

But all they have is the steady hum of the hallways lights and the muffled rain beyond the walls. The undignified squelch of his wet shoes as he rocks back and forth on his heels.

“You were right,” Changmin starts, and he isn’t prepared for how foreign his own voice sounds, choked up and desperate. He has to push through it, even if the words grate against his tongue on the way out. “You were right. I like you so much I can’t breathe and I feel like being reckless, and it terrifies me, and I’m terrified of how you might react, but you shouldn’t have to guess, and I’ve been such an asshole to you, and—”

When Sunwoo’s hand stretches out to touch his, that’s when the first tear falls.

“I’m sorry,” Changmin whispers, drawing in a breath. The action sets off a tremor through the rest of him. Arms are coming up around him, and Changmin clutches onto the back of Sunwoo’s hoodie like this is his last chance. Into the fabric he’s being pressed against, his voice is muffled. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sunwoo. I understand if this won’t be enough, and if I’m too late, and if you never want to see me again, but—”

Sunwoo trembles in his arms. His laugh is breathless, but his hold grows tighter.

“That”— hand to the back of his head, fingers running through the soaked mess —“is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. You dumbass.”

Changmin deserves that. He nods against Sunwoo’s shoulder, and then begins unwinding himself. If this is how it ends, he’d at least not use it for his own selfish gain—to touch him, hold him dear. Sunwoo pulls him back into the hug. 

“An apology is nice, but all I ever wanted is for you to talk to me.”

Sunwoo leans back and looks him in the eye. Changmin is met with galaxies he’s come to treasure. They’re spilling over, stuck on his eyelashes and gathering at his chin. Changmin reaches up to catch falling stars. Sunwoo’s face crumples, and the steadiness in his voice finally gives away.

“And I think I’ll literally die if I never get to see you. I don't think I could do that again. This week has been torture.”

Changmin knows a thing or two about that. He cups Sunwoo’s face, thumbing along his cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

Changmin will make sure Sunwoo never has a reason to resort to that ever again. He gets a tiny, watery smile.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Changmin promises, resisting the urge to kiss away the look in his eyes. He pecks Sunwoo’s cheek. “I’m not sure what it’ll take, but I’ll try.”

Sunwoo points to the spot he’d just kissed. “Well, a few more of those wouldn’t hurt. On my mouth, too, y’know.”

It’s so predictably Sunwoo of an answer that Changmin bursts into laughter, knocking his forehead into the other’s collar. He lifts his head to place something small—an offering, an apology, a preview—at the corner of Sunwoo’s smile. “It’s that simple?”

Sunwoo just tugs him towards the door, grinning big. “Come inside and we’ll see.”

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

He awakens to arms around his waist and a nuzzle into the back of his neck, a love-shaped blanket wrapped around him.

“Sleep alright?” Sunwoo murmurs, not letting go. You would think they’d wedded and bedded last night, with the way he’s clinging so hard. But Changmin is pretty sure they shared a billion kisses, and then an entire pizza. The food-induced coma had hit them pretty fast afterwards.

“Yeah,” he replies, the tiniest laugh escaping him. It’s only his second time here, but Sunwoo’s bed feels a lot like home. There’s a kiss to his ear and Changmin shuts his eyes before he starts tearing up. Why had he been fighting this so hard?

When they’re brushing their teeth, Sunwoo watches him from the corner of his eye, with a kind of hesitation that is foreign on him. Changmin spits out the toothpaste and turns the tap on.

“What is it?”

Sunwoo pauses, toothbrush poking the inside of his cheek.

“Why does it terrify you?”

Changmin splashes his face with water. “You know how things went with Jinsoul.”

“Not that,” Sunwoo clarifies, bumping his hip in request. He grabs Sunwoo’s cleanser off the side and moves to give him space at the sink. “You said you’re terrified of how I’ll react. I thought it’s pretty obvious how I’d react to us liking each other.”

Changmin takes his time massaging the soap into his face, considering the best way to approach this. They’d been so caught up in the touches and the giggling last night that they hadn’t talked much about the actual content of his tearful apology.

Cautious, Changmin begins with, “I know it’s not your style to hide who you are.”

He sighs. He might as well just get it over with. 

“But it is mine. And I’d like to keep it that way.” His fingers stop their circular motions, the lather obscuring most of his expression. “I just wasn’t sure you’d want to be with me if… I couldn’t be public about it.”

Changmin tries to pass the silence by washing the foam off his face, eyes screwed shut for a measly few seconds of security. When he opens them again, Sunwoo is watching him in the mirror. His curiosity has melted away into something solemn.

“Sorr—”

Sunwoo spins him around before he can finish the apology, and pecks him on his mouth. Lingering mint and gentle consolation.

“Changminie,” he whispers, pulling away to look at him. Soft and sweet, eyebrows pinched upwards in concern. “I’d never ask that of you, silly. Not after what you’ve been through.”

“You wouldn’t,” Changmin agrees. “But you’re open and honest—you don’t give a shit, and I think that’s the coolest thing about you. And I don’t want you to have to compromise that for me.”

It’s not that Sunwoo announces it to the world when he dates someone. His track record isn't spotless—in fact, he’s caught so often canoodling with other famous faces that nobody’s shocked anymore. It’s just that he isn’t one to deny or hide away when confronted. Changmin wishes he could be that unbothered.

“Okay, the last one was on her request,” Sunwoo recalls. “Yerim wanted to go public so we could attend events together.” He taps his chin in thought. “Giuk was by accident, and we never really went on a second date. Hyeju wanted to clarify things to her fans, and honestly, nobody really cared? Then there was that influencer guy who wanted to hard launch… But then he dumped me right after he hit ten millio—” He shakes his head. “My point is, the only time I’ve been open about it is if it’s a mutual decision.”

Sunwoo pokes his cheek where it dimples, smiling when Changmin finally meets his eyes again.

“And if that’s not what you want, then I’m alright with that. We don’t need to be honest with them. We just need to be honest with each other, right?”

The tension in his body finally unfurls as relief settles in. The bathroom lights may be ugly and fluorescent, but everything feels drenched in rose gold. He allows himself a smile, falling away from his defenses and into love’s embrace.

“This is very sweet.” Three sharp knocks on the bathroom door. “But speaking of honesty, I honestly also live here, and I need to pee real bad.”

Sunwoo sticks his tongue out in the direction of the door, and Changmin hits his chest lightly, mouth shaking with an almost-smile. He allows himself one more kiss on Sunwoo’s jaw. They’d better get out before Younghoon busts down the door himself.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

Changmin didn’t think he’d be styled this way again any time soon, but when they discuss the music video’s direction, he pinpoints the familiar themes.

While Sunwoo doesn’t have fangs or claws this time, Changmin still gets to don feathered appendages in some scenes. They’re more unkempt than the ones he used for the film—tattered and blood-stained as he kneels in a darkened room, a column of azure spilling in from a singular window.

Most scenes don’t involve wings at all, usually just the two of them. Coming face to face in the street. Hiding in alleyways to lock lips. Sobbing in each other’s embrace, pale feathers raining down on them from the ceiling. Curling around Sunwoo’s frame on a messy bed. Running through the neon-lit city, hand in hand. All packaged nicely in a hazy dream of teal glow.

It comes all too naturally now, bodies fitting into each other like this is where they were always meant to be.

They get to wear matching pairs in black and white, too.

A little tackier and less magical, for another scene set in a club, very reminiscent of Heejin’s show that they attended. They would blend right into the sea of bodies if it weren’t for the camera coming up close to them. Violet cast over them, they press up close, palm to palm—watching their fingers with wonder. Foreheads drifting closer, noses touching, eyes shut contently.

Changmin hopes Sunwoo knows what he means when he interlaces their fingers together afterwards.

It’s the next scene that sticks with him the most. Or the aftermath, to be precise.

“I promise, I know how to drive this thing,” Sunwoo insists, as Changmin stands unsurely. “I have a license and everything! Ask Younghoon-hyung, I had to learn for this role a couple of years back.”

Changmin knows. He’s seen the movie where Sunwoo speeds on a motorbike during a car chase. It was actually kind of sexy, until the part where he loses control of it and inevitably crashes.

“And your character ended up in the hospital.”

“That’s part of the plot!”

“What if you’re out of practice?”

Sunwoo is pouting, tilting his head. Changmin settles behind him, weakened by the puppy-eyes. It’s not that the scene worried him; he does believe Sunwoo about the license. It’s Sunwoo’s suggestion to take him on an actual night drive afterwards. It’s the notion that this would finally be of more weight than their usual activities as friends.

During the filming, there was no actual driving required. Their bike was towed anyway for the shots, Changmin’s arms encircling him, chin on his shoulder. The team moved with them, making sure their hair blew with a fabricated breeze, reflecting muted turquoise over them carefully. It was all very calculated.

But when they borrow the vehicle afterwards, and Sunwoo starts up the engine for real, Changmin can’t control how his hands instinctively fly to grab onto him.

The night air is cool as they zip through the streets, but Sunwoo’s body is warm. With their faces obscured, Changmin can sit as close to him as he wants, can let his palms lay on his waist as he likes, can hold on as tight as he wishes. The helmets get in the way of his attempt to mimic the pose from the shoot, but Sunwoo grins knowingly when they’re taking them off.

“Fun, wasn’t it?” he asks, when they’re seated in the back of Kevin’s car. “Should we go again? Maybe after a date sometime.”

Changmin can see his manager glance at them curiously in the rear-view mirror. The smile that creeps on his face is slow, shy. Holding Sunwoo’s hand feels like a small victory.

“I’d like that.”

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

The dates they go on are always one of two: inconspicuous or clandestine. Sunwoo may push his buttons half the time, but he is a man of his word. Their public meet-ups may be frequent, but it’s never anything that raises suspicion. It’s in their own homes that Sunwoo turns into a lovesick thing, touch-starved and moonstruck. Changmin can’t complain nor turn down his kisses; not when he wants them just as much.

(He wishes he were braver.)

Their free windows only overlap after Sunwoo’s birthday, so Changmin had brandished the plane tickets as a belated gift. Luckily for him, the other had been thrilled to go, even if it was a week late.

“I’d be happy even if it was a month later,” Sunwoo assures, as they stroll through a park, warm and content from all their street-food adventures earlier in the evening.

There is a stupidly large amount of couples at this hour of the night, and something inside him aches whenever he sees them. The next time their fingers brush, Changmin finds himself interlacing them. He smiles to himself, and gets a kiss to his temple. Changmin looks up in surprise.

“Cute,” Sunwoo explains, swinging their arms between them. “I’m so in love with you.”

“You—!” Changmin exclaims, a weak punch to his side. “Quit being embarrassing.”

But all that leads to is him being pulled into Sunwoo’s arms, a hand petting his hair softly. And maybe it’s that every other pair out here are too engrossed in each other, or maybe they’re far enough from home, but nobody bats an eye.

(Maybe this is a chance to be braver, finally.)

Dawn comes around, and the calm blue alongside the lack of crowds lulls him into security. So does Sunwoo’s hand, clasping his as they carefully navigate the rocky shores, searching for little pockets of water. It isn’t something of great interest to Sunwoo, but whenever Changmin squats down to marvel at whatever tiny creatures the tidepools hold, he gladly follows.

“Hello, little guy,” Changmin cooes, peering down at some kind of anemone. It sways gently beneath the water, as if waving at them. “Oh, it’s so cute…”

“You’re cute.”

His head snaps up to find Sunwoo watching him, a tiny smile on his mouth. Skipped heartbeat, flushed cheeks. He’s lovedrunk, and something different starts brewing within his usual feelings.

It keeps going somewhat like that. By the fifth ‘you’re cute’, Changmin is partially annoyed, partially flustered, and mostly itching to quell something else.

“Get up,” he demands. The alarm bells in his head are muffled by the giant, fluffy clouds he’s up on.

“Sorry, I’ll start paying attention, I promise. We can explore some more.”

“Idiot,” Changmin sighs, tugging him close by the front of his shirt. There is nobody around, and even if there is, he can’t bring himself to care. “You’re so…”

He doesn’t finish his thought, softly slotting his lips against Sunwoo’s. And for a moment, he forgets everything else.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

But perhaps he’d been too brave. It takes only four days for their perfect little utopia to get shattered.

“No.” Changmin opens the link Kevin had just sent him. He rolls over on the bed, holding his phone up. “No way, you have to be fucking kidding me.”

“Woah, somebody’s using big boy words.”

Sunwoo steps out of the bathroom, all chipper and smelling of hotel shampoo. Normally, Changmin would entertain his banter by throwing something not-too-dangerous his way. But all he can manage is a miserable little sound that has Sunwoo’s eyes filling with concern.

“Hyung?”

“There are pictures.”

Sunwoo stops rubbing at his hair, towel hanging sadly on his shoulder as rushes over to look at the screen. “Shit.”

He’s astounded, really.

The few days they’ve barely been here have already led to an article. And while most photos are just of them walking together, or them hand in hand, or sharing a smile—all friendly, platonic things you would do on a platonic hang with your platonic guy friend—there’s a final photo that even Sunwoo can’t bullshit them out of.

“Man,” the other sighs, sitting down next to him. “I’m so sorry.”

Changmin frowns hard at his tone. “It’s not like it’s your fault. How did they even get this? There was nobody there. Besides, I kissed you.”

It’s infuriating how such a short moment had been captured in pixels on someone’s camera. They’d gone right back to tidepooling afterwards, too, but of course it’s the three second liplock that gets all the limelight. Does nobody even care about what invertebrates Changmin had spotted?

His frustration does nothing to change how quickly the photos are spreading, and how speedily people chip in with their two cents.

“Ugh!” Changmin flops back against the mattress. “This is all my fault.”

“No, it’s mine,” Sunwoo reasons, plopping down next to him. “If I didn’t dye my hair, we’d be less recognisable.”

“Sunwoo, don’t be ridiculous. They had no permission to take that photo, let alone pos—oh.”

“Exactly.” Sunwoo takes his phone and puts it away, leaning down to peck Changmin’s forehead. “It’s not your fault that someone else can’t have some basic decency.”

It’s magic, how Sunwoo unravels him into a softer thing with just a few kisses. Changmin almost forgets why he was so mad. Until he does, of course, sitting up with his brows knitted yet again. He feels around the bed until he finds his phone. A text from his mother, a call from his sister, a text from his other sister, something else from Kevin, multiple texts from Chanhee.

“Baby,” Sunwoo sighs, tugging him back down. He noses into Changmin’s neck. “I’m so sorry this is happening.”

“I’ll do it myself,” Changmin grumbles. “Fuck this. So what if I have a boyfriend?”

“Changmin?”

But he’s too busy scrolling through his gallery for a picture he’d taken yesterday. On a pier, Sunwoo leaned back against the railing, silhouetted amber. He hurriedly resizes a heart emoticon, and drags it into place over the sun in the background. He types up something born of rage and love and years of vexation. Clarity washes over him momentarily and he glances sideways.

Sunwoo is smiling, and when he leans in to kiss his cheek, it lingers. “You’re kinda hot when you’re mad.” There’s an odd edge to his voice. Another kiss, softer. “Tag me.”

“Management is going to be so upset with us,” Changmin sighs, conflicted. Sunwoo’s fingers reach up to curl around his, and they’re holding his phone together. Oh, he’d been shaking.

“Only if you want to,” Sunwoo reminds, cheek pressed against his own. It’s sweet, and yet Changmin can’t shake away the feeling that something isn’t quite right.

Boiling anger and unsoothable ache; sweetness overflowing at a single thought of Sunwoo.

Changmin deletes the caption, and hits the ‘post’ button before he can reconsider. He hears a quiet exhale from beside him. He turns his phone off, shutting his eyes. He can feel Sunwoo getting up. There’s a gentle tap to his chest.

“I need some water.”

Changmin nods. What he’d just done leaves behind some sort of odd exhilaration. No later than two minutes of the feeling, there’s a dull thump and a whispered curse that has his eyes snapping open and his body springing up into a seated position.

Sunwoo’s phone is on the ground, vibrating non-stop. Sunwoo is clutching a bottle of water, the minifridge still open. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Slowly, calmly, Sunwoo takes the device and switches it off.

But when he places it on the table next to him, it clatters, and Changmin catches the tremor of his fingers. He’s never seen Sunwoo like this before about his previous romantic ventures. What has he done? Changmin thinks of Jinsoul, trembling as he’d held her when the articles came to light. Changmin thinks of Jinsoul, trying to be brave. Changmin thinks of Jinsoul asking for the end. What has he done?

The wave of guilt hits him so hard he feels nauseous.

“Sunwoo.”

“Mm?”

It doesn’t make sense to break up if you were kissing just days prior. People would definitely theorise too much if they denied the rumors after Changmin had basically confirmed them.

“If—if your agency wants us to break up, we might have to wait for a bit. Like, a week.”

Sunwoo is staring at him, mouth parted and no words coming out. And then he is sitting back down again, his eyebrows in that worried upwards curve. And then he’s gathering Changmin into his arms. He still can’t seem to find his words, stalling with small touches along Changmin’s back.

“I’m not breaking up with you. I’m just…”

“Terrified?” Changmin finishes.

Sunwoo kisses the crown of his head. “I didn’t think I would be. First time for everything, right?”

Fingers thread through his hair, and Changmin exhales into his shoulder.

“I don’t think anyone I’ve been with has worried about the aftermath,” Sunwoo murmurs, his touch faltering. “Nobody has ever really tried to… stay? Not for long, anyway. So neither did I.”

There is a lump in his throat, growing more painful by the second. Changmin squeezes him tighter in the embrace. He has never wanted to stay this badly, even in the face of danger.

“But hyung, I don’t want it to end this time.”

“It won’t,” Changmin finds himself saying, though his voicebox will hardly allow it. He lets go to look Sunwoo in the eye. There is something in him ready to fight for this promise.

“The next few weeks are going to be hell,” Sunwoo muses, fingers running along Changmin’s face. Along his brow, along his cheek bone, right along his cupid’s bow.

“I’m sorry.” Changmin kisses his fingertips. “I can take your mind off it for the night.”

Sunwoo hasn’t ever looked so willing to fall into distraction as now, voice cracking when he requests, “Please.”

So they leave their phones dead, and the curtains drawn, and the lights dim. They busy their mouths in a dance with each other. He’ll keep going until Sunwoo’s lips are bitten the same red of his hair, the same red he’d blamed himself for. Until that red is what they remember as the colour of love rather than rage.

(And if in the haven of this hotel room, they go a little beyond kissing, and if Changmin sinks to his knees, kissing apologies along Sunwoo’s navel, and then lower, lower, lower, and if there are fingers threading through his hair when Sunwoo gasps out reassurances and confessions jumbled into each other—well, that’s nobody’s secret but their own.)

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

sunwoofan2000
eww i get they did heejin’s mv, but why are they flaunting this? no way his fans will stan after this

progenitorstar
why are YOU flaunting your assholery? it’s been a whole week, get a life. also i’m blocking you

peachery
u people are sooo dramatic… if i had a hot bf i was in love with, i’d be the same as him. changmin i support u #needthat

“You have shooters,” Kevin observes, peering down at the screen. He hands Changmin an iced tea, and claps him on the shoulder. “I need to get these to people, hold on. Junyung-ssi, I have your coffee!”

Changmin shares a look with his stylist as his manager scampers away after his most recent object of affection. He sips at the drink as he scrolls through more comments.

“How are you feeling about the nominations?” his stylist asks, gently moving strands of hair into place. It’s a wonder it hasn’t fallen out after the constant touch-ups to get it looking the way it did back in the movie.

Changmin smiles at her through the mirror. “I don’t know if I deserve it, but I’m very thankful. Everyone worked really hard on this film.”

“Look to the left a bit? Thanks, sweetie.” She shakes her head, with a small laugh of disbelief. “You’re too humble, by the way. You were brilliant.”

dustshells
no wonder their chemistry in ‘be awake’ was incredible!!! i support them ( ´∀`) idk why so many ‘fans’ are being so mean… congratulations on your relationship and on the nominations!

jcmwife25
the film was his choice, and a success. the music video was a favour. but respectfully, we just want what’s best for changmin

kswife #1
so u like it for the film, but not if they like eo irl? make it make sense.
p.s. disrespectfully, get a jobbbbb and leave bamtori alone!

He’s still scrolling on the ride to the venue, surprised by the current state of the fire they’d started. As much as people hate him for simply being in love, it’s also brought forth a lot of people who are genuinely happy for him, and people who are comforted by his refusal to back down. Fans of the movie have been especially loud with their support.

matchasoy
i’ve only watched recent interviews of him, but sunwoo-nim seems so sweet (≡^∇^≡) i’m so happy for them both! ♡

moonlody
our changminie’s in good hands, sunwoo’s the sweetest ever!! n super talented (☆∀☆) i hope they take home all the awards!!

mellonppang
they will!!! guys let’s do a bamtori movie marathon this weekend in support!!!
(*^-^)／＼(*^-^*)／＼(^-^*)

And though he’s smiling, the nervous bounce of his leg doesn’t stop just yet.

dodorerejinjinsol
Noooo what about Jinsoul…?

applejwoos
she’s clearly very happy with her GIRLFRIEND. plus, she’s shown support for these two. can’t you do the same, as her fan?

honeyshine
let’s please respect changmin AND jinsoul (and their partners)! stream icarus!!

“Should we read these together later, and laugh at the stupid ones?”

Sunwoo’s hand is gentle on his knee. This will be their first public appearance together since the fiasco. As they come to a stop, he glances past the tinted windows. The crowd of cameras don’t scare him as much as they used to.

Sunwoo does him the favour of stepping out first, and Changmin exhales deeply. The moment his shoes hit the carpet, his mind goes foggy, and he feels weightless. Sunwoo’s fingers outstretch towards him—an anchor back to earth.

The immediate frenzied clicking is laughable.

There are no showy poses like they did for the premiere night. Just two people, hand in hand. Changmin glances at Sunwoo. Gone is the fiery red from before, strands of muted, autumnal bronze falling over his forehead instead. His suit is well-tailored, and the sleek silver piece on the shell of his ear is wing-shaped. It’s a twin to the one pinned onto Changmin’s lapel.

He’s radiant gold under this light. And he’s holding Changmin’s hand.

Changmin adjusts it so that his fingers fit between Sunwoo’s, smiling softly when the other glances at him in surprise. Sunwoo lets him hold on throughout the ceremony, and Changmin tries to keep his mind on the feeling of warmth under his fingertips, and off any prolonged stares.

Later, when Changmin is called up to receive an award, he’s so elated he forgets most of the speech he’d prepared. In between his apologies for his terrible memory, he ends up rapidly rambling through a very lengthy list of thank yous—the director, the costuming team, the camera crew, the lighting crew, Juyeon, his family, his friends, the catering folk, the little band of misfit junior actors, each by name—

“—Jungwonie, and my manager, Kevin, and,”— Changmin’s breath breaks, eyes searching through the crowd until he finds him —“someone who helped bring so much life to these roles. Sunwoo, thank you for being this angel’s other half.”

Though they had all been seated at the far end of the front, Changmin sees him perfectly clearly. Sunwoo blows him a kiss from his seat, glitter in how he grins.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

They did end up getting the group tattoos.

The junior actors crowd around Sunwoo, all of them holding their arms side by side, taking snapshots of the matching feather design just below their wrists. Changmin has one as well, hidden under his sleeve.

“It was very brave, what you did.”

Changmin nearly jumps out of his skin. “Oh my god.”

“Sorry, hyung.”

Yang Jungwon is at his side again, with those big, unblinking eyes. Changmin can see his feather has healed nicely, as well.

“Thank you,” the boy adds, his smile warm. “For giving the rest of us hope. I know it wasn’t easy.”

Changmin watches him closely. “You have a date lined up or something, Jungwonie?”

It’s quick, but Changmin doesn’t miss how his eyes dart the group’s way, lingering a little longer on a certain head amidst them. He thinks Angel Number Four and Demon Number Eight would look good together, actually. Jungwon’s cheeks go just a little pink. “Something like that.”

The conversation lingers in his mind when they part ways with the rest of them. Sunwoo takes a detour on their drive home. It seems deliberate enough that Changmin doesn’t tease him for taking the wrong turn. He’s proven right when they reach their destination.

“There’s nobody else here,” Changmin notes, as they walk leisurely under glowing blues. His hand is in Sunwoo’s, safe and sound.

“I would hope not. You wouldn’t believe how much it costs to rent this place out for an hour.”

They crash into each other when Changmin halts in his step. Somehow, he’s not even that surprised. Renting out an entire aquarium is exactly the type of thing Sunwoo would do. Changmin turns to the glass instead. They’ve reached the section full of jellyfish.

“You like fish that much?” Changmin asks, knowing he doesn’t care much for them at all. His boyfriend is mildly curious at best.

Sunwoo’s chin rests on his shoulder, his arms coming around Changmin’s middle. “I like you.”

The jellies float around aimlessly, ghostly and glowing. They’re like very round shooting stars. Changmin catches their reflection on the glass, and thinks, so is Sunwoo.

The kiss to his cheek isn’t unexpected, but he’s never prepared for how sweet it is. “I’m sorry about the tidepooling date. We’ll re-do it someday, when things die down a bit.”

Changmin chuckles. He catches the hand resting over his stomach. “You know things won’t die down. Not much.”

“I know, baby.”

Sunwoo is squeezing him tighter. Just for this moment, he’s as untroubled as the floating creatures, letting halcyon blue carry him wherever it pleases. He thinks of Yang Jungwon’s expression from earlier today and feels a strange sense of peace.

“I don’t care what they say,” Changmin decides. He’s wanted this for far too long to let anyone ruin it for him. The look he gets is a mix of marvel and adoration.

The only thing that surprises Sunwoo more than that is when they finally return home, and he catches sight of Changmin’s keys—or the dated accessory they’re attached to, rather.

“You kept yours too,” he whispers, in awe, turning the keychain over in his fingers. Old but recognisable, an acorn that matches his chestnut one. “I thought it was just m—”

Changmin takes his face in his hands and kisses him right on the mouth.

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

The first time they fall into the sheets together isn’t something grandiose.

They haven’t seen each other in nearly two weeks. Interviews and events and guest-roles on television shows—you name it. Changmin’s flight lands amidst a downpour, but Sunwoo is at the airport, the passenger's seat ready and inviting. He tries to convince Changmin to come over—some excuse about Younghoon being away on vacation and how weirdly quiet it is—but it isn’t needed at all. Changmin would’ve gone there anyway.

When he steps into Sunwoo's room, post shower flush and suddenly too aware of how long it’s been, Sunwoo meets him midway. Lips on lips, and hands on skin. The t-shirt Sunwoo lent him ends up on the floor within ten minutes of being worn.

“Missed you.” It’s a mumble Sunwoo presses into his skin, feather-light. Over and over and over. They trip over each other’s feet trying to make it to the bed. His head knocks into Sunwoo’s jaw.

Changmin is soft with sleep-deprivation and tipsy with affection, and so he simply laughs, propping himself up on his elbows to kiss it better. “Sorry.”

“S’fine.”

Sunwoo pokes his cheek, and when he smiles it’s lined gold. Changmin leans down, wondering what sunglow after dark tastes like. He finds that Sunwoo is more than willing to help him figure that out. It’s when other clothes start coming off, and hips rock against each other, and their skin heats up all prickled with things unresolved, and Changmin mumbles out a need he’s never voiced aloud before, that he’s suddenly rolled over. He blinks up at Sunwoo.

What had he said? Something about inside and now and please and need you. The specifics are scrambled, and he’s scorching with want.

“Uh, you sure about…?” Sunwoo trails off, but he doesn’t look hesitant. Changmin recognises this look from other times when they’d toed the line and pulled back. Sunwoo’s eyes always betray what he wants.

“Have you got lube anywhere in here?”

The tube he fishes out of the bedside drawer is unopened, and suspiciously brand new looking. Changmin raises an eyebrow at him.

“Did you just buy this or something? Were you hoping this would happen tonight?"

A sheepish smile, and then a kiss to his forehead. “Would that totally kill the vibe?”

Changmin pretends to consider it seriously. Like the idea of Sunwoo anticipating his return doesn’t bloom his heart open. Like it doesn’t knock the air out of his lungs. Like they aren’t twin flames burning bright. “No.”

Like the thought of being ruined by him doesn't create something molten in his belly.

“Hm." Sunwoo plays along with the facade, pretending to be unaffected. But Changmin sees the tiniest smile trying to break through it.

He pulls Sunwoo back in with a hand to his nape, his fingertips tingling. "Kiss me."

There are no fireworks behind his eyelids, nor a palatial orchestra starting up in his heart. They're eager and un-choreographed and a little clumsy, but it’s warm and sweet and it’s theirs. No spotlights or unwanted cameras following their every move. When presented with the opportunity, Sunwoo is all teeth and tongue, leaving Changmin’s neck blooming with florets of red. Changmin rewards him with staccato love confessions rasped out between soft kisses, and touches that raise little crescent moons on his skin.

“Always wondered how that would feel,” Changmin admits, into the quiet aftermath. He remembers his thoughts from the day they filmed that scene—at the time, shameridden and hopeless. “To be yours? Without all the cameras and stuff.”

He lies on his side, Sunwoo mirroring him, curled towards each other. They cradle the balmy remnants of the moment in between their bodies.

“I’ve wondered too,” Sunwoo replies, reaching out, tucking Changmin’s hair behind his ear. “I never got over that kiss in the bathroom.”

° . • ~ ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ~ • . °

“Don’t look so surprised. I come here more often than Kevin does now.”

Changmin is pulled into a hug immediately, rendered immobile in Sunwoo’s arms. He gives up on wiggling his way out, and pushes the door shut with his foot.

“Hi,” he laughs, letting Sunwoo rub his face into his neck. There’s a tub of something freezing being pushed into his chest. “What’s this? What did you do, Sunwoo?”

“Wow,” Sunwoo drawls, but it’s muffled. “Can’t a guy visit his super beautiful, super talented, super incredible boyfriend without being accused of anything?”

Changmin drags them over to the sofa, rolling his eyes. Now he knows something is up, for sure.

“I just think you’ll receive some good news soon,” Sunwoo informs him, eyes polished as he’s sat down. He remembers the half unloaded dishwasher before someone had barged in. Changmin ruffles his hair and takes the ice cream from him.

“I’m serious!” Sunwoo calls out after him as he ambles back to the kitchen.

“Okay, what is it then?” Changmin calls back, storing the dessert safely in the freezer. Hm, pralines and cream this time. Fancy. “Wanna tell me, while you help me with these dishes?”

But Sunwoo imitates zipping his mouth. Changmin huffs, shaking his head. He does help Changmin, but remains playfully elusive all through it. It’s only when they’re back on the sofa, and he’s lured Sunwoo into the safety of much-promised weekend kisses, does he think of asking again. Curiosity is a stubborn string, and he’s the cat all caught up in it.

“What’s the good news?” he tries, fingers resting on Sunwoo’s shoulders.

The other’s eyes snap open. “Right now? I can literally feel your hard-on.”

Changmin swats at his chest, heat rising to his already flushed cheeks. The call-out effectively pushes him back where Sunwoo wants him, using the kisses as an excuse to block any further teasing. He lets out a sigh when there’s metal against his tongue. Ever since Sunwoo had learned about the effect of that stupid fake-piercing, he randomly keeps showing up with a different one to rile Changmin up.

How annoying, he thinks, heat fluttering in his belly when he feels it clink against his teeth again. It’s holding up a lot better than all the previous fake ones; normally it’d have fallen off by now, pretty but flimsy. Changmin pulls away, holding him still.

“Yep, it’s real.”

What? That wasn’t even his question.

“Haven’t you wondered why I’ve had the same one for a while now?”

Sunwoo’s grin is cheshire when Changmin sputters, eyes glancing down. Sunwoo is coaxing him back into liplock again, and Changmin thinks he might be getting lightheaded. Curious hands find the small of his back, and wander down, and squeeze, and Changmin regains his focus just as his throat betrays him by letting out a breathy sound.

“Stop distracting me,” he complains, reaching for Sunwoo’s hand before he does something that’ll throw him off again. He cradles Sunwoo’s cheek. “Dude, please. It’s killing me. Just tell me.”

Sunwoo sighs, turning his head to press his mouth against Changmin’s wrist instead. “Has Kevin called you yet today? Or your agent? Any fun emails?”

Changmin frowns, confused by the sudden mention of his manager. He’s about to respond, when his phone vibrates from its spot on the coffee table.

“How the hell did you do th—hello, Kevin? What’s going on?”

Changmin scrambles off Sunwoo, and clutches the phone with both hands as his replies fall into various sorts of surprised one word sentences. Sunwoo leans back, watching him with sparkling eyes. After the call ends, Changmin stares at him for a good minute, mouth parted.

“They want us in a romcom? Specifically us?”

“I said I’d get back to them after thinking about it,” Sunwoo reveals, making grabby hands at him. He’s gleeful when Changmin lets himself be tugged back onto his lap. “I’m down if you’re down.”

Getting paid to love Sunwoo… the deja vu makes him laugh, a little hysterical.

“It sounds fun,” Changmin agrees, pecking him. “Acting like you’re obsessed with me? Easiest job you’ll ever take.”

A startled, albeit delighted, laugh is punched out of Sunwoo. “I’ll tell my team ‘yes’ then?”

Changmin doesn’t answer, and it gets him peppered with love all over his cheeks, his nose, his forehead.

“And.” Kiss. “For the record.” Kiss. “Baby.” Kiss kiss. “It was easy, even back then.”

“Hm?”

He’s cupping Changmin’s face. He’s nudging Changmin’s nose with his. He’s smiling into their kiss and then pulling away; rose-blushed, shimmering. Changmin remembers a Sunwoo from a year ago.

‘There were scenes that didn’t even feel like we were acting.’

“I never needed to act for that. Loving you has always come easy.”