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As an actor, Taemin hated a lot of things about his profession. The lack of privacy, the fear of a career ending movie failure, the demanding producers who thought they owned him simply because they were paying him.
But most of all, Taemin hated the socialising. The afterparties. The part where he had to pretend that he gave a fuck about networking because his agent Choi Minho deemed it beneficial for his career.
Unfortunately, it was. Taemin had found many incredible projects because some director or producer would take fancy in his sulking, brooding self. Taemin could get away with that attitude— he was popular for choosing more artistic, offbeat films and making them mainstream through the sheer force of his performance. But the downside of being picky was that work did not come to him as easily.
So Taemin grit his teeth and dragged himself to every award show, every movie afterparty, talking to people and all the while trying not to think of the fact that his gay self kissing his female co-stars proved to be more pleasant than this.
But if Taemin was the introverted superstar everyone wanted to be closer to just for the bragging rights of it all, there was one person who everyone flocked to because he was fun. He was extroverted, beautiful, incredibly talented, and somehow, effortlessly the life of every single party Taemin had been forced to attend.
Taemin hated Kim Kibum.
It was infuriating that he had to be the all rounder. That he could do all the socialising, the interviews, the endorsements, even goddamn vlogs, and could still show up at a shoot to give an Academy Award worthy performance.
Taemin would know. Once, a long time back, when Taemin was working his way through indie films and Kibum was a rising star, they had worked together for a movie. It was brief. Taemin played Kibum’s neglected ex for a few scenes— a role he related to more and more lately.
After all, why would the go-getter talk to the awkward dude?
“God, Minho, how long is this supposed to go on for?”
Minho shrugged, sipping his whiskey calmly and handing out Taemin’s card to everybody he knew— which was practically all the attendees. He was the kind of person who would walk into a room not knowing anyone, and walk out with everybody’s phone numbers, which was an incredible skill to have as his manager, but exhausting for Taemin as his best friend.
“It’s a new year’s eve party, and it’s not even midnight. Calculate it yourself.”
Taemin grumbled.
“How bad would the tabloids be if I just got drunk to get myself through this?”
Minho shrugged again, a charming smile directed at one of the actresses, Taeyeon. In another universe, Minho should have been the actor instead of Taemin. Taemin should have been like a dancer or something, or maybe a singer.
“Go crazy. Everyone is smashed anyway.”
Taemin took that as a cue to plant himself in front of the open bar, asking for the fruitiest, sweetest wine they had to offer— and if Taemin could have the whole bottle for himself.
The bartender was too starstruck to protest anyway.
“Dessert wine? For some reason I had not pegged Lee Taemin’s poison of choice to be that.”
Taemin huffed, pausing mid sip through his fifth glass. He would recognise that voice anywhere. That infuriating voice that streamed through his TV, his youtube, and through the characters Taemin had wanted to play but had been too late to instead.
“Do you think a lot about my poison of choice Kibum?”
A laugh— a cackle more like, and Kim Kibum was sitting beside him, gracing the bar with his brightness. He was donning blonde hair from his latest role, his cheeks were red from dancing, and his eyes just a little glazed over. Still, the feline shrewdness with which he observed Taemin was unmistakable.
“I think a lot about you Taemin.”
Taemin rolled his eyes. He was taunting, that was obvious, but some part of him wished it wasn’t just that.
“Why is it that every single time we talk you are this insufferable?”
Kibum shrugged elegantly, the collar of his oversized maroon shirt slipping off his shoulder. Taemin tried not to stare.
“You need to stop stealing my roles Lee Taemin. I admit your work on the last movie was good—though I could have pulled off that tortured cult leader look as well, but I suppose black looks great on you.”
Backhanded compliments were the way of life for Kim Kibum. And he wasn’t wrong, Kibum and Taemin were similar artists, which the producers seemed to enjoy. It was always the ‘we were thinking of asking Kim Kibum to do it, but we realised you would be a better fit’ that really made sure Taemin signed the contract.
And Taemin did look great in black.
“First of all—” fuck, Taemin’s voice was more slurred than he would have liked. “I do not steal roles. I simply happen to be at the right place at the right time.”
Kibum snorted, which, much like his laugh, was too coarse to go along with his chic image, and yet it still worked somehow.
“Of course you are at the right place at the right time. You aren’t anywhere else.”
“Oh? You can’t judge me, not when you pride yourself on being a workaholic. How many months did you spend on set this past year?”
Kibum called the bartender to conjure up a margarita while Taemin spoke, and Taemin wondered if this really was the best place for Kibum to be so close to midnight. Many people would be puckering up on the dance floor for a new year’s kiss from him, men and women alike.
“I spent ten months shooting—” Kibum answered, after taking a long sip of his drink “—but to be fair, all my movies this year required foreign locations, so of course it had to be done in long stretches.”
“Bullshit.”
Kibum raised an eyebrow. It was unlike Taemin to be this emotive, or even swear in front of people. But it was new year’s eve, he was drunk, and finally conversing with his appointed industry rival for the first time in six months, give or take. Taemin was allowed this.
“What?”
“You are as antisocial as I am. You’re just better at hiding it.”
“Which part about this—” Kibum stretched his arm out towards the throng of people, few of them who were calling out to him to join them “—Makes you think I'm antisocial?”
“The part where I heard that you reject everyone who asks you out on a date. Everyone calls you an ice queen.” Taemin pointed an accusatory finger at Kibum, his hand quivering a bit. God. How much had he had to drink?
There was surprise written all over Kibum's face. So expressive. Too expressive. Kibum must be pretty out of it too, Taemin realised.
But his face shifted, an embarrassed laugh taking its place.
“Lee Taemin, in the seven years of your stardom, and in the ten years of mine, I have never heard of you going out with anyone either. My theory is that either you’re extremely private to the point not even the tabloids can catch a whiff of it, or, and this one, in my opinion, is closer to reality— that you simply don’t date.”
Taemin bristled. His dating life had always been a disaster. He was too focused on his work, and too closed off for anyone to truly get to know him. Relationships were always a frustrating experience that led to nowhere, and after a point he had just stopped seeking them.
“In any case, we are both lonely.” Taemin interjected, his words sounding more like a painful admission than the jibe he had intended it to be.
As if on cue, the rest of the party started chanting the countdown to midnight, and Taemin groaned, emptying his glass. He needed to get blackout drunk for this.
“You’re right,” Kibum said, and Taemin turned in surprise. He had almost forgotten that Kibum was still here. “How old are you turning next year?”
“Twenty–nine,” Taemin replied out of reflex, confused about where this was going.
“I’m turning thirty–one, and my twenty-five year old friend is getting married in a month,” Kibum chuckled self-deprecatingly. “Sometimes I wonder if we’ll end up like the isolated, dark characters we play on screen.”
Sober Taemin could hardly handle Kim Kibum’s normal, snarky self— but a drunk Taemin with a sudden open and emotional Kim Kibum?
“Maybe we should make one of those pacts,” Taemin joked, trying to deflect into familiar banter territory. “If we don’t end up marrying somebody, let’s just marry each other.”
Kibum hummed, as if considering it.
“Thirty–five.”
Taemin's brain was working very, very slowly.
“What?”
“When I’m thirty five, you will be what– thirty three? Let's marry each other if we are still single. As long as we promise to try our best to actually find someone in the meantime.”
“How many margaritas have you had, Kibum?” He scoffed incredulously.
“Why?” A smirk played on Kibum's lips. That charming bastard. “You're the one who suggested it. Too chicken to actually commit to something?”
Taemin narrowed his eyes, an annoyed huff leaving him.
“Well? What do you say Taemin? It's going to be New Year's soon.”
The chanting was almost deafening now, and Kibum had leaned close to talk to him. Taemin wanted to think rationally about the decision, but the scar on Kibum's eyebrow was so distracting.
Three…two….one….Happy New Year!
“Okay— you know what,” Taemin said coolly as cheers erupted around them. “It's a deal.”
He wondered if Kibum’s responding cheshire-like grin was intentional, or if it was just one of those inherently attractive quirks Kibum seemed to be born with.
Ugh.
Taemin really fucking hated Kim Kibum.
“I don’t think I have ever seen him sleep this much.”
“Jongin, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink that much.”
Taemin blinked his eyes open to look at the blurry figures of Minho and Jongin pacing in his room, and immediately shut them, groaning. The sunlight was too harsh, and it was enough to let Taemin know that he was waking up very, very late.
“Oh good, you’re awake.” Taemin received a punch to his shoulder. “We were supposed to go out for lunch today, idiot. I got so worried I had to bring in Minho.”
Taemin groaned again, turning over on his bed so he didn't have to meet Jongin's worried stare.
“How much did I have to drink last night?” Taemin croaked out.
“I saw you walk to the bar, and then three hours later you were basically flailing out of your seat while Kim Kibum held you upright, though he was kind of flailing as well, so I'd say, a lot.”
“Kim Kibum?” Jongin exclaimed unhelpfully.
Minho hummed, “Right? That's what I thought too. Thankfully Kibum's manager helped me out and I was able to get you home. What even got you drinking that much Taem?”
“The loneliness of my existence,” Taemin muttered sarcastically, flipping over to face his friends.
Loneliness— wait.
“Fuck,” Taemin swore, leaping over Jongin beside him to reach for his phone, miraculously still intact on his bed side table. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Kibummie <3: Did you manage to go for your lunch with Jongin? You promised you'd talk to him.
“Oh no,” Taemin moaned, pulling at his hair to wake himself up while he stared at the text message in horror. “Oh no, no, no.”
“What did you want to talk about?” Jongin peered over his shoulder. “And Kibummie? I thought you hated Kibum? What's going on?”
“Okay,” Taemin sat up properly, giving himself an instant headache at the suddenness of it. “Time out. Both of you, out of my apartment. Now. And Jongin, can we have an early dinner in a few hours instead?”
Jongin rolled his eyes, but smiled softly.
Taemin was eternally grateful that the two of them knew him well enough to not take any offence in his words, and understood that it was Taemin's way of grounding himself.
“Alright Taem. Take care.” Jongin patted his arm.
The knot in Taemin's chest unravelled slightly.
“I will.”
Minho shot him a strange look, but dutifully bid him goodbye.
Taemin sighed, finally alone, and unfortunately, forced to face his current situation.
Bits and pieces of the night were coming back to him. Wine. Too much of it. Kim Kibum and his infuriating self taking a seat beside him— A marriage pact, and an exchange of numbers to keep track of each other’s progress in finding a partner— Taemin groaning at Kibum saving his contact as Kibummie <3— Taemin blurting out that he was in fact interested in someone, therefore he was already one step ahead of Kibum, and would succeed before him. The person was a friend. Jongin.
Jongin, who he had met on the set of a movie four years ago. He was a fresh actor back then, straight out of modelling and playing Taemin’s best friend. The movie was average, but he would be forever grateful for meeting Jongin through it. He was kind, extremely talented, an attentive friend to Taemin’s oblivious self and, not to mention– extremely attractive too.
Taemin suspected he had feelings for him, though he was generally bad at deciphering between platonic and romantic emotions— but if it gave him an edge over Kibum, who apparently had no interest in anyone at the moment, it was a lead worth exploring.
And the sheer thought of winning before Kibum finally made his brain gear into action. Taemin got his act together to prepare for dinner. He dressed up in black silk shirt with fitted trousers to match, styled his hair away from his forehead and put his limited makeup skills to use for a smokey eyeshadow.
Taemin grinned at his reflection in the mirror. He did look great in black.
“Alright— fess up. Why are you dressed this fancy?”
“Why? Don’t I look good?”
Jongin snorted, peeking up from the menu of the exorbitantly priced restaurant they were at.
“You look incredible. You are the prettiest man I know, Taemin.”
“Thank you,” Taemin replied sincerely, and received a brilliant smile from Jongin in return and— wow, Taemin was definitely feeling something between them.
“Um, your phone is ringing.”
“Oh,” Taemin glanced at his phone on the table. He hadn’t even noticed.
Kibummie <3 calling.
Taemin really, really needed to change that contact name.
“You know what, give me a minute to deal with this.”
Jongin nodded, clearly perplexed at Taemin’s errant behaviour as he stepped out to take the call.
“Kim Kibum, you better have a good reason—”
“You didn’t respond to my texts! Are you okay?”
Taemin paused.
“Why are you interested?” He asked suspiciously.
“You were incredibly drunk—” a huff “—and I needed to know how good you are doing on this bet of ours.”
Taemin bit back the automatic response of ‘it’s none of your business’ and sighed instead.
“I’m currently out for dinner with Jongin so I will answer your questions later,” he said dismissively, ready to cut the call.
“Wait, Taemin.”
“What is it?” Taemin hissed.
“Don’t do it. It’s too soon.”
“It’s really none of your business Kibum.”
“It is! I’ll feel bad if you jumped into a relationship just because of this.”
“That was literally the point of this whole pact—”
“Fine,” Kibum said curtly. “Suit yourself.”
Taemin stared flabbergasted at the screen of his phone, now reverted to its lockscreen at the dropped phone call. He was going to ask Jongin out whether or not Kim Kibum wanted him to or not, he would march in there—
But what if Kibum was right? After all, he was doing all of this purely for the pact, and not for the intention of it.
Taemin winced, stomping back inside. The seed of doubt had been sown, and Taemin’s anxiety had already watered it into a tree.
“Everything alright?”
Taemin smiled tightly. “Peachy.”
Taemin was the kind of person who was unable to sit still for long periods of time, which was a downright inconvenience when he was made to do his makeup, or forced to wait between shots.
But over the years he had learnt to cope with it. Videogames on his phone were the first on his list. Annoying Minho was a close second.
“I don’t understand why you are not telling me about this mysterious date with whom you're ditching me for dinner. You always tell me everything.”
“No I don’t,” Minho retorted, and then rushed to clarify when Taemin pouted. “You make me tell everything.”
“Same difference,” Taemin shrugged, propping his feet up on the vacant chair in front of him. He was grateful for the empty green room in the studio— it was not always the case and he hated being forced to make awkward chit-chat when he was psyching himself up for his next scene.
Minho grunted noncommittally in reply, responding to emails at a furious pace beside him. Technically, going to shoots with Taemin was not strictly in his job description, but sometimes Minho stepped in to accompany him to the more multi-starrer sets to network with the production members.
Mostly though, he kept Taemin company in what were usually overwhelming affairs with so many actors involved.
“So?” Taemin prodded. “Are you going to tell me or not?”
Minho sighed, finally putting down his phone in favour of looking at Taemin.
“I can tell you about it, but you’ll have to promise not to get mad.”
Taemin rolled his eyes.
“Why would I be mad about you going out on your date? Sure, you act like my Dad sometimes, all grumpy and everything but that does not mean I’ll be a child who opposes a step-parent—”
“It’s Kim Kibum.”
Taemin paused.
“Uh, what?”
“My date is Kim Kibum.”
“What?” Taemin spluttered, too stunned to react otherwise.
Minho smiled sheepishly. “You know that New Year’s party you two got to talking in, turns out he has a better hold on alcohol than you—”
Taemin scowled.
“—And that he was definitely a lot more sober when he asked for my number so that I could inform him if we made it home safely. I thought it was kind of sweet for him to do, and then we texted back and forth in the past two weeks, and he asked me out, so really, that’s it.”
“Who does he think he is to ask you out on a date— you are my manager, my friend, especially after he ruined my date?” Taemin fumed, angrily slamming his script on the dressing table as he rose up from his comfortable chair in favour of pacing the room in agitation.
“When did you even go on a date—”
Taemin waved his hand dismissively. “Doesn't matter. What matters is that Kibum is terrible.”
“You know, you are kind of acting like you're being introduced to a step-parent—”
“I'm coming with you to the date tonight.”
“Taemin, unless you plan on starting a polyamorous relationship, I don't see why—”
“It's not about me! It's about you, and the fact that Kibum is bad for you!”
Minho stared at him, unimpressed.
“He's a bit prickly, and we banter a fair bit, but he's perfectly nice.”
Taemin sat down again, defeated.
“He got to you too, just like everyone else in the industry.”
Minho sighed, albeit playfully.
“Look—”
“Sir, your shot is ready.”
Taemin smiled briefly at the spot boy despite being annoyed at the interruption.
“I'm going with you tonight, and that's final,” Taemin said before stepping out.
“All you are going to do is have lunch and take a nice long nap after I drive you back home,” Minho immediately shot back.
Taemin smiled.
“We'll see.”
“Mind telling me why you're here Taemin?”
Taemin adjusted his deep blue silk shirt, placed an angelic smile on his face, and met Kibum's scowl.
“To have dinner, of course. Fancy meeting you here.”
It was annoying that even the deep frown did nothing to dampen Kibum's beautiful features. Taemin had expected more of a reaction after he had taken the effort of typing in Minho's childishly easy phone password and looking through his appointments while he was distracted chatting with the screenwriter of the movie.
“It can't be a coincidence that you're here at the same place and time as my date with Minho, right?”
“Of course not. I like French cuisine.”
Taemin fucking hated it.
Kibum sighed, sitting back and running his hand through his hair in frustration. He had a very angular jaw, one which made Taemin envious. That, along with his long, elegant neck, unsurprisingly made him the target for most high end makeup brand endorsements.
Taemin shook himself out of his thoughts when Kibum fixed him with a glare again.
“Do you have anything to say to me, or are you going to sit here till Minho arrives?”
“He'll take a while,” Taemin inspected a bread roll from the basket in between them. “I might or might not have cajoled him into accepting a last minute appointment from a producer friend of mine. Unfortunately, he's the chatty kind– Minho is probably not even aware of how late he is going to be.”
It actually had not taken Taemin much to convince Junmyeon to stall Minho in an useless conversation. It turned out Junmyeon had taken a fancy to Minho in one of the numerous year end parties.
After all, Taemin was not a completely terrible friend to Minho.
“Is this revenge?”
Taemin looked up from the bread to Kibum's face. The bright red blazer he donned accentuated his complexion. Kibum commanded attention.
“I don't know what you are talking about,” Taemin replied innocently, eyes opening wide. “I'm just concerned as Minho's friend about why you asked him out of the blue.”
“That's kind of the point of asking out people Taemin. It is out of the blue.”
“Sir–”
Taemin paid no attention to the waiter attending their table, and leaned closer towards Kibum with a cold stare.
“Why did you have to go after him? The point of the pact was to be spontaneous, not to jump at the first people you see.”
Kibum matched his stance, an eyebrow quirked in amusement.
“Possessive, are we?”
Had Kibum's lips always been in a perfect bow shape?
The waiter cleared his throat, making them both jump apart. Taemin felt his cheeks burn.
“Sir, would you like to order?”
Kibum took a few seconds staring at Taemin calculatively.
“Might as well eat something,” Kibum ultimately sighed. “And bring me your finest white wine. I feel we'd need some alcohol to get through this.”
“I personally prefer red.”
Kibum rolled his eyes, but chuckled.
“Your finest red dessert wine then.”
Taemin tried not to feel flattered that Kibum remembered his preference from that night.
But when he sipped on the deliciously sweet drink, he allowed himself to. Just a little bit.
Taemin had not always wanted to be an actor.
He had just been a restless child with a lot of dreams. He wanted to be an astronaut after scoring a hundred on his maths test, a dancer after watching Michael Jackson on TV.
There was also the time he had thought of being a chef while helping his mom out in the slew of Chuseok cooking. This idea had been vetoed by his entire family by the end of the day.
And he had also been effectively banned from the kitchen.
No, his calling wouldn't come to him until he was in seventh grade, and being asked to play the female lead in a play produced by the all boys middle school that he went to. Taemin had scoffed. No boy going through puberty and the trials of male peer pressure would be flattered by the comparison to that of a pretty lady, but as he had donned the long, brunette, cheap artificial wig, he had discovered something— he could be anybody he wanted to be. As long as he was convincing.
And he was convincing. Taemin transferred to a performing arts institute for high school, dividing his time between school productions and interning for local theatres. It was disheartening, at first, when he learnt that pure talent wouldn’t push him through the door to success. It took luck, networking, and most of all— a good agent.
That was how he had met Minho while struggling with big ticket auditions, and after paying almost all of his acting fees to a scam of a manager. Minho was only a few years older than him, but had a zeal and work ethic rivalling that of a veteran’s. He also shared the same artistic vision as Taemin. After all, he was queer too, and understood what kind of roles Taemin wanted to bag. Taemin did not want to be stuck in the indie rom-coms his face almost guaranteed him to be in. He wanted more.
And thanks to Minho’s connections, he landed his first ever role in a major production, that too one where the character alluded to Taemin’s own sexual preferences. The part was extremely short, but it was an opportunity nevertheless.
An opportunity to work with Kim Kibum. The new starlet.
Taemin at the time was slowly making a name for himself— slow enough that he did not expect any of his co-actors to know him beforehand. But the spark of recognition in Kibum’s eyes when he first walked into the set filled him with pride.
Taemin was never the kind of person to be starstruck, and yet after that, he still was.
He watched Kibum jovially talk to the staff, buy everyone coffee after a long shoot, or just smile encouragingly at him. They only had two consecutive days of shoots together, with a handful or so scenes. Playing the lover of a man felt freeing to Taemin, especially that of Kibum’s, who acted his part of a scornful ex so well that it followed them even out of the set.
Taemin and Kibum didn't speak to each other again afterwards— barring the clipped and snarky interactions they shared in parties after Taemin became a star in his own right.
He never really thought about why it ended like that, about why he had never taken an opportunity to have a conversation with Kibum. All Taemin knew was the animosity he felt when the comparisons between them grew, when they competed for the same parts, when he would hear hushed whispers from staff talking about how similarly flamboyant they were in their queerness. Kibum was everything Taemin was, but better.
Minho told him that it was all in his head. But Minho was also the one who was regaling the ridiculous movie offer to him right now.
“Do you really expect me to do this?” Taemin fumed. “Really?”
Minho smiled serenely.
“Writers like Jonghyun and Jinki writing a script together is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Taemin— and their only condition is for the two leads to be you and Kibum. That is the vision they share for their characters. It would be foolish to pass this up.”
Taemin gulped. He was a big fan of Lee Jinki’s work, and even bigger of Kim Jonghyun’s. They were industry veterans, and also recluses, taking hiatuses so long that nobody knew if they had retired or were simply working on their next magnum opus. They also notoriously preferred to work alone. The two of them together on a story, simply put, was something powerful enough to convince Taemin to almost drop his apprehension. Almost.
“Did Kibum accept this invitation to listen to the script?”
Minho nodded. “Jonghyun told me so. Which is why it is so important that you do too.”
“So they approached him first,” Taemin sniffled petulantly.
Minho groaned.
“Taemin.”
“Fine.” Taemin sighed. “Fine.”
Two weeks.
It had been two weeks since Taemin had gatecrashed Kibum and Minho's date. Minho had forgiven Taemin, with persuasion, in the form of Junmyeon, who asked Minho out that very night. But the important part was that Kibum was blonde when they had last met– all sharp and stylish and impenetrable. The Kibum that Taemin was looking at now although, sitting comfortably on Kim Jonghyun's couch, was a brunette, whose bangs washed softly on his face, accompanied with a large blue sweater that almost seemed to be drowning him.
This was not the Kibum he was used to.
This was not a situation he was used to.
“Welcome Taemin,” Kim Jonghyun greeted warmly. “Please have a seat.”
Taemin nodded, gingerly taking the spot beside Kibum, who acknowledged him with a small smile and a nod. All of a sudden, Taemin felt conscious of his own choice of apparel— a black and white striped sweater with jeans. It was an old outfit, but comfortable because it was slightly worn by use, which was the perfect choice for how long script readings usually went. Kibum, though, seemed like he had given thought to his choice of clothes even here.
Kim Jonghyun cleared his throat, tearing away Taemin’s eyes from Kibum.
“I know both of you must be curious about the project, and Jinki’s going to be joining us soon. He’s not a morning person,” Jonghyun chuckled. “Therefore we apologise for his delay. Till he arrives, I’ll start explaining our idea.”
Taemin quickly learnt Kim Jonghyun was an extremely charming person. Taemin had seen him before, in photos, or in passing in his extremely rare film festival appearances, so he was not surprised by his young age, or the good looks, but he was surprised by how much of a skilful orator Jonghyun was, lavishing in the attentiveness with which Kibum and Taemin listened to him.
“Both of you would be playing grey characters. Jinki and I had been discussing morality and what it meant to us, which is how we came about this idea. There are no romantic interests or a plotline of that sort, but you two would be rivals here, somewhat. And—”
The doorbell chimed.
Jonghyun smiled. “Jinki’s here, so we can start with the actual script reading now.”
Lee Jinki was more of an enigma than Jonghyun. He was not a social media user, nor did he attend any events, and unfortunately, Taemin never had the privilege to work in a set where Lee Jinki presided. Taemin shifted eagerly, despite himself, to appraise the new entrant.
“Hi, sorry for being late. Morning meetings are not my thing,” was the soft, embarrassed greeting from Jinki, taking a seat opposite them in a shirt two sizes too big, hair unruly, and glasses slipping off his nose. He fit the idea of a stereotypical, bemused writer more than Jonghyun did, but somehow, was not any less appealing. He laid out the two copies of scripts, shooting them a grateful smile at their reassurance of the delay being short enough to be inconsequential.
“It's been a while Jinki.”
Taemin turned to Kibum in surprise. His voice was fond. Familiar.
Jinki grinned. “Four years huh? I’m excited to work with you again.”
The dorkiness had disappeared right off Jinki when addressing Kibum. He sounded more smooth, suave even. Right, Kibum had actually worked on a Lee Jinki written movie. A role Taemin had badly wanted to bag too. How acquainted were Kibum and Jinki with each other?
Jonghyun cleared his throat for attention once again.
“Right. Before we start, I want to say something. If that’s alright Jinki?”
Jinki nodded. There seemed to be tacit understanding between them— a result of working closely together, Taemin was sure.
“This story that we are going to be reading out now started with a process that was unconventional. Instead of fleshing out our characters and finding a suitable actor for it, both of us had a vague idea of who we wanted to play them, and the artistic quirks of their own these actors would provide. Jinki’s character alluded to Kibum, and mine to Taemin. Simply put—” Jonghyun looked at Taemin directly, a glint in his eyes, and a shy smile on his face. “—You were our muses. I thought this is something we should disclose right off the bat.”
Oh.
Jonghyun was charming, and Taemin considered himself thoroughly charmed.
“So, what do you think?”
“Does it matter what I think?”
“Taemin, I’m asking you in a professional capacity—”
Taemin huffed, taking a sip of his coffee and trying to ignore how comfortable he felt in the cosy coffee shop with Kibum.
“I think it’s great,” he replied frankly. “The role itself is not something I have not done before, but we might be able to do something new with it.”
“The role of a vigilante you mean?” Kibum queried. Post-script reading chat between actors wasn’t unusual, but Taemin had still been taken aback when Kibum offered to walk down to a cafe near Jonghyun’s house to discuss their almost five hour session.
“Playing a morally grey character I mean,” Taemin quickly corrected. “I seem to attract those types of roles.”
Kibum flicked his eyes up and down Taemin’s face.
“Might be something to do with your looks, you know. Ordinary people don’t look as ethereal as you. Casting you and asking you to play something like a run of the mill college student would be an injustice to–” Kibum waved his hand to indicate Taemin’s general aura, “—all of this.”
Indirect compliments. Kim Kibum never disappointed.
“I could say the same about you,” Taemin shot back, hoping the blush spreading throughout his face wasn’t obvious. “Hubris seems to be a favourite theme of yours.”
Kibum raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe. So are you taking up the movie?”
Taemin stirred more sugar into his drink idly, thinking of an answer.
“I am still considering it. They already have a producer and a director on board, and if my dates work out, I might hash out a contract. What about you?”
“I'll do it. As long as you are okay with working with me.”
Taemin looked up in surprise at Kibum's almost sentimental tone. No, not just sentimental— vulnerable.
“Why wouldn't I be?” Taemin replied, far softer than intended.
“Right,” Kibum cleared his throat, abruptly dropping his stare. “I'm sure you would enjoy working on set, considering the eyes you and Jonghyun were making at each other across the table.”
Taemin let out an affronted squeak.
“Oh? And what about you and Mr. I’m excited to work with you again.”
Kibum let out a full fledged cackle at Taemin's poor impression of Lee Jinki.
Taemin felt himself automatically smile in response.
“It's going to be interesting working with you again, Taemin.”
Again. At least Kibum remembered.
Taemin raised his coffee mug as a toast.
“Likewise.”
The plot of the movie was simple. Far more simple than Taemin had mentally prepared himself for before the table read. The catch was that it relied on the lead actors. The intensity, the chemistry, the tone of the story was to be brought in by them— a task which was difficult and liberating at the same time. When Taemin first stepped onto set to dress into his costume, he realised why it was so important for Jonghyun and Jinki to get them to agree to the roles.
And once he looked at Kibum dressed in his sharp, lean suit, signifying his character’s power and money, Taemin knew he would deliver what Jonghyun wanted him to.
Anger. Spite. Fascination.
“Hey,” Kibum breathed out. “The first day nerves never really go away do they?”
Taemin shook his head. They didn’t. Every new movie set felt like his first time. He was inhabiting a new character— a whole new person. It was an electrifying feeling.
“Looking good by the way,” Kibum added off-handedly. “The stylist did her job well.”
Taemin’s costume was a sleek black bodysuit, depicting the nature of his character as an assassin, as well as the negativity of his actions.
“Do you want to go over the lines again?” Taemin said instead, biting back his own compliments.
Kibum nodded. “Sure.”
The characters were rivals, as promised. Kibum, an owner of one of the divisions of a conglomerate which was involved in covert crimes, and Taemin, a trained mercenary, whose family fell into one of the many extortion schemes run by the said company. Kibum’s character was not involved in the crimes or aware of it, but Taemin’s character, blind with rage and hatred, was bound to take out every single person involved, irrespective of their culpability. It raised questions of morality, of responsibility, and retributive justice.
“Aristotle’s theory of moral responsibility.”
Taemin hummed absentmindedly, his eyes scanning the script one last time.
“What?”
“Aristotle’s theory of moral responsibility,” Kibum repeated. “It discusses if we are held responsible for our voluntary actions, and thus deserve either praise or blame, whereas for our involuntary actions we may be liable to either pardon or pity. Your character decides the fate for mine, and it is up to the audience what they make of it.”
“Is there a right answer, then?”
“That is the point–” Jonghyun’s honey smooth voice interrupted them, jolting Taemin out of his revision. “There is no right answer. You picked it up well, Kibum. And both of you look wonderful.”
“Is it rewarding for you to be able to watch your characters come to life?” Kibum replied conversationally, as always, striking Taemin with how cordial and pleasant he seemed to be around everyone but Taemin.
“Always. Which is why I make it a point to be present on the first day of the set at least. Speaking of—” Jonghyun put his hand on Taemin’s back, making Taemin cough in surprise. He had slowly become closer to Jonghyun, on the virtue of having in-depth discussions regarding Taemin’s character in the months leading up to the start of production, but Taemin was still getting used to Jonghyun’s casual skinship. “—Jinki already asked Kibum about joining the post shoot celebration dinner, but Taem, would you like to come too?”
Taemin watched Kibum raise an eyebrow at the nickname.
“Yes,” Taemin spluttered. “Of course I would.”
“Great,” Jonghyun grinned. “I’ll hang back and let Soyou take the reins. See you both at dinner!”
Soyou was a highly acclaimed director, and someone both Taemin and Kibum had worked with on separate projects. She reminded Taemin of a school principal— all stern and no-nonsense, but understanding at the same time. Her commanding style of directing soothed his first day jitters to some extent, although he was still shaken by the fact that he had to look directly into Kibum's eyes for the entire duration of the scenes to be shot today. Their dates had worked out as such that they were to film the latter half of the movie and the confrontations first, with the solo character arcs to be shot later at their own convenience.
Usually, movies not being shot sequentially as a result of scheduling conflicts was a part and parcel of being an actor. Taemin just wished that his first moment of inhabiting this new character didn't have to start with leaning menacingly over Kibum.
“Do you truly believe that revenge will bring you justice? That killing me would help you in any way?”
Kibum’s voice was angry. In denial. Even at the mercy of someone else, his character was prideful.
“I don’t know about help—”
Taemin searched his face, panting from the exertion his character would have put himself through from infiltrating a highly secured office. The scene cue had asked him to grab Kibum’s collar. He did so, pulling him chest to chest. Kibum was now close enough for Taemin to be able to count his eyelashes.
“—But it would certainly give me pleasure.”
Kibum stared at him coldly. A shiver ran down Taemin’s spine.
“I do not exist for your pleasure.”
“Cut!”
Taemin immediately let go of Kibum’s shirt, stepping back as if he had been burnt. The overly lit set bore down on him, the heat causing him to sweat through his tight costume, and the make-up staff ran towards them with tissues, tiptoeing to place them under Taemin’s bangs. Generally Taemin would bend down to help them, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from Kibum’s heavy lidded gaze.
“Alright,” Soyou’s voice finally broke their eye contact, making them turn their heads towards her to receive inputs. “That was great for the first take, but I need you both to notch down the intensity a bit. As much as I love a homoerotic rivalry, I don’t require it for this scene.”
Kibum chuckled good naturedly, but Taemin’s chest tightened.
It was going to be one long day.
His limbs hardly felt like they were working anymore when he finally slid into a booth next to Jonghyun, who immediately pushed a glass of soju towards him.
“Drink up, you look like you need it.”
Taemin grunted in agreement, taking the shot before actually gathering his bearings.
They were at a western style restaurant, Kibum’s choice— as Taemin could vaguely recall from a conversation with the staff before Taemin was shuffled into a car, where he instantly dozed off into a nap.
By the time he was woken up, almost everyone had taken a seat inside, all loud and talkative after a gruelling first day. Jinki, Kibum and Soyou were also seated at their far quieter table, but Kibum was already chatting animatedly with Jinki, cackling at something he had said.
Taemin poured himself another glass.
“Woah— slow down there. You need to eat something first,” Jonghyun touched his arm. “Are you alright?”
Jonghyun’s voice was warm. Inviting. Comforting. Taemin’s eyes dropped down to his plush lips. He really was handsome. With his big eyes, pretty lips and an unending amount of charisma, Jonghyun was precisely Taemin’s type, and he could tell that he was Jonghyun’s too.
Kibum’s laugh flitted in through his ears again.
“I think I’m just going to step out for a smoke before the food arrives,” Taemin said quickly, relieved at the understanding nod he received from Jonghyun in return.
The back of the restaurant was fortunately empty, tucked away in a maze of discreet Seoul typical alleys. Taemin leaned against a wall, patting his jacket until he found his pack of cigarettes. He was not a regular smoker, but he almost always needed some initially on a new project. Thankfully he’d had the foresight in the morning to bring them along with his lighter, and he sighed when the filter was finally between his lips.
“I didn't peg you for a smoker.”
Taemin took a deep inhale and stared off into the distance, determined not to rise up to Kibum’s jibe. He was not even sure why Kibum followed him here. After all, he seemed to be having a great time with Jinki.
“Why? Too innocent for it?” Taemin scoffed, deciding to address the comment after all. He was no stranger to people babying him for the way he looked and acted offscreen, and Taemin hated every single time it occurred.
“Too disciplined,” Kibum replied softly, as if it was an admission. “But I am not judging you, I smoke sometimes too.”
Despite his irritation, Taemin offered his pack, retracting his hand when Kibum shook his head.
“Why are you here anyway?”
“Jonghyun sent me. Said you looked dazed, and he thought since we are more familiar with each other, you’d talk to me.”
Taemin couldn’t help the disgruntled chuckle that left him.
“A shame. You were looking quite cosy there with Jinki.”
“Well,” Kibum paused. “I haven’t forgotten our pact.”
Taemin took a last sharp intake before dropping the cigarette stub to his feet and putting it out.
“Me either.”
“Or else we would have to marry each other. That would be insane.”
It was a drunk, verbal pact. Not a legally binding document. But Taemin chose not to mention it.
“Yeah, pretty insane.”
Taemin hoped to be just as nonchalant when he ate dinner in front of the view of Jinki adoring Kibum with sweet smiles.
He wasn’t.
“Fuck,” Taemin swore. “Fuck.”
Jonghyun hoisted him up the wall, making Taemin wrap his legs around his waist while Jonghyun kissed him with unparalleled fervour.
“I told you my biceps weren’t just for show.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Taemin smirked, rolling his hips, enjoying the way Jonghyun’s eyes flickered shut in pleasure. Jonghyun wasn’t the only one with party tricks up his sleeve.
Technically, Taemin had not wanted the evening to go this way. One of the more challenging scenes in the movie was slated to be shot in a few days, and he just wanted some insights on what Jonghyun's thoughts had been while writing that particular part, and how Taemin could correlate that with Soyou's vision to deliver a performance that satisfied both. Taemin had dropped by uninvited, with work the only thing on his mind, but his impulsive visit had resulted in a very shirtless Jonghyun, mid-workout, opening the door.
After that, it had been a matter of self control. Something which clearly neither of them possessed.
Jonghyun was an excellent kisser too, prying out delirious moans from Taemin, who had not been laid for so long, and combined with all the pent up frustration that he had been feeling from working with Kibum lately, was on cloud nine.
“You’re so beautiful,” Jonghyun kissed down his neck. “I swear I have wanted to kiss you for so long.”
“I could tell,” Taemin gasped when Jonghyun let his feet land on the floor again in favour of unbuttoning his shirt. “I wanted to as well.”
“Though I wanted to take you out properly on a date first,” Jonghyun grinned, running his hands over Taemin’s now naked chest.
Taemin’s heart thumped uneasily at the word. A date.
His libido was fading. Fast.
He desperately kissed Jonghyun again, trying to feel the same gravity that had led him to kiss Jonghyun in the first place.
Jonghyun broke away.
“We don’t have to do this, you know.”
Taemin felt guilty. Jonghyun was extremely sensitive, and always attuned to the people around him. Taemin’s hesitation must have been palpable to him.
“I’m sorry,” Taemin sighed, looking down. The magic was shattered. “I don’t know what happened.”
Jonghyun offered him a sweet smile, though Taemin could tell he was confused. “It’s alright. You can figure it out. I like you. Obviously. If you want to take me up on that, I’m here.”
Taemin nodded, slowly fastening his shirt again. “I like you too Jonghyun.”
But Taemin wasn’t so sure if he would be able to figure out the mess in his mind.
“Alright, what’s going on between you and Jonghyun?”
Taemin raised an eyebrow at Kibum’s insistent question.
“As you can see, I’m busy revising the lines for today.”
“We both know you can recite them in your sleep at this point. So fess up.”
“Why? Did he say something?”
Kibum sighed, settling onto the couch and stretching his legs. One of the lights on set had malfunctioned, forcing them into the same green room as they waited for it to be fixed.
“So something did happen.”
“None of your business Kibum.”
“It is my business when my co-actor and the writer of my movie are avoiding each other like the plague.”
“It is my movie too, and there are two writers. One of which you seem to be making googly eyes at, and you don't see me asking about that.”
“Maybe you should be.”
Taemin looked up from his script.
“What?”
The door swung open, a spot boy informing them that they could come back for the shoot.
Taemin sighed, stretching up from his chair and walking out in time with Kibum.
“I can’t tell what you’re thinking when you say things like that.”
Kibum simply hummed in response.
“You might think your relationship with Jonghyun doesn't matter because he's a writer not even involved in the production, but Taemin, he's going to be a part of the marketing and press tour, and it's such a bad look for the leads and the writers to not even be speaking to each other. It’s also obviously making things awkward between me and Jinki, so I suggest you sort it out.”
“Do you really think I don't know that?” Taemin scoffed. Jonghyun and Jinki were not only writers, but famous ones at that, which granted them an integral role in convincing the movie-going public to watch their movie. “—And why would I follow your suggestion anyway?” Taemin brushed past Kibum to take his position as Soyou started yelling the production cues.
“Because I'm planning to ask out Jinki, and I'd hate for the tension between his best friend and my co-actor to ruin it.”
Taemin blinked.
“Action!”
The camera panned around them. It was a black tie office party situation, much earlier in the movie plot than the initial scenes they shot. Taemin was attending in disguise, identifying the people he needed to kill, all the while looking like he belonged among them– dressed in an expensive suit, and complete with a permanently displeased frown that only rich people could sport.
It was the first scene in the movie where the two leads would meet.
Kibum was a few steps ahead of him, appearing to chat with an employee. The camera zoomed into Taemin’s face, capturing the mild confusion in his eyes. In all the inquiries he had made about the crime ring, Kibum’s profile had not shown up, though it was obvious that he was an important figure, made apparent with how people seemed to mill around him.
Taemin smoothly picked up a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, elegantly twirling the stem between his fingers as he moved closer to eavesdrop.
“It would be great if you could pass the decision by Monday. The employees would be very happy.”
The extra was appropriately cheerful, hinting at just the right amount of gratitude. Taemin could recognise a fresh actor in the making.
“Of course–” Kibum paused dramatically, the long kind of pause that only worked in cinema, and not in real life. The camera panned once again as the employee left, and Kibum turned to Taemin.
“Hello, have I seen you anywhere before?”
Another zoom in on Taemin, who was startled at being addressed directly, and impressed by the man’s sharp senses in detecting an uninvited guest.
“I don’t think so. I’m just a plus one.”
A lie, of course. An earlier montage would show Taemin knocking out a man for access to the event invitation. Plus ones were a convenient excuse— the wealthy brought escorts for prestige, which made it embarrassing for others to ask conventionally beautiful and younger attendees as to who exactly they were accompanying.
Kibum fixed Taemin with a piercing stare.
“Makes sense. I’d remember a face like yours.”
“Cut!”
Taemin breathed out, unsure if the flirtatious innuendo in that line delivery was scripted for his character, or just a flair Kibum had added. Soyou seemed satisfied with the take though, calling for rearrangements for the next scene.
“Well?” Kibum asked as Taemin stood frozen while his makeup was retouched. “Are you going to talk to Jonghyun or not?”
Wow, Kibum was still on his case.
“Sure I’ll talk to him,” Taemin’s nostrils flared. “After all, I need to ask him out on a date too.”
Taemin enjoyed Kibum’s stunned expression more than he would ever admit.
Taemin was a workaholic. It was true. He was not interested in relationships. Also true. But it was less due to his work, and more due to how unwilling he was to let people into his life.
But saying it was due to his busy, all consuming career was an easier excuse than addressing that particular problem.
And going on a date with Jonghyun was easier than tackling the complex game he and Kibum seemed to be playing.
“It’s nice to have a day off,” Taemin stretched on the picnic blanket, courtesy of Jonghyun planning their day in a resort hidden in the outskirts of Seoul, away from the inescapable reporters who were keen to track Taemin’s movements precisely due to his apparent lack of a love life.
Jonghyun grinned, picking apart the basket the kitchen had packed for them to arrange their light lunch on the blanket.
“This place is great isn’t it? It’s very discreet and charming, and I heard that it’s popular among celebrities because of it.”
Taemin wouldn’t know, he hadn’t been brought here before, or had ever planned a date, but his smile turned teasing anyway.
“You seem well informed— you must have had a lot of dates here.”
Jonghyun blushed, spluttering, “That’s not what I meant—”
“Oh, look who’s here!”
Taemin closed his eyes immediately when he heard the interruption. He had to be imagining that shrill voice. He had left that voice back on set, relieved to not have to hear it for one single day after being subject to it for two weeks straight. Taemin was imagining it. Absolutely making it up.
“Oh hey Kibum. Jinki,” was Jonghyun’s confused reply. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Taemin’s eyes flew open.
Nope, he wasn’t lucky enough for it to be his imagination.
Jinki’s embarrassed grimace was the first thing he saw, before his eyes moved to the beaming face of Kim Kibum.
“We discussed about places we could go for our date, and I knew Jonghyun loves this resort and was talking about bringing Taemin here, so I thought we could do something similar, but Kibum immediately agreed to come to this one,” Jinki offered in the way of an explanation as Kibum laid out a blanket right beside theirs.
Right. Taemin was done.
“Could you excuse me for a minute? I need to talk to Kibum,” Taemin smiled saccharine sweetly, in the hopes that their dates wouldn’t mind when he dragged Kibum by the arm behind a tree out of earshot from the other two.
“What the fuck Kibum.”
Kibum shrugged. He looked infuriatingly good in a loose white shirt and cream knee length shorts, but Taemin had not underdressed either. At least, Kibum’s eyes lingering on the sliver of his chest exposed by his own blue button down confirmed that Taemin was on equal footing this time.
“You’re not the only one who can go on a date.”
“As you have clearly established,” Taemin grit out, boring down on Kibum until his back pressed against the tree trunk. “What are you doing here?”
“Careful there,” Kibum’s eyes were intense, heavy. “We are not on set anymore, you don’t have to keep playing your role.”
Taemin raised an eyebrow. “Who said I was playing one?”
It was quick. The movement. The fall of Kibum’s eyes to Taemin’s lips before they flitted back to his stare again.
Taemin felt electrified. He felt powerful. Giddy with the knowledge that he could crack into Kibum’s iron-clad shell.
Kibum’s hand was on Taemin’s shoulder now. It would be simple, so easy to lean in—
Kibum shoved Taemin away.
“I better get back to Jinki. He must be waiting.”
“Kibum. Wait.”
Taemin's oddly sombre voice stopped him in his tracks, and he turned to look back at him. Kibum's face looked stricken.
“The property is huge. Jinki and I will find a different spot. Don't worry about us. Go enjoy your date.”
Taemin didn't try to stop him after that.
“So let me get this straight,” Minho coughed, “Kibum bothers you.”
“You little piece of shit, I can sense the innuendo you know.”
Jongin giggled, cutting into his steak and watching Minho and Taemin exchange sentences back and forth like a particularly interesting tennis match.
“No but— this whole crashing each other's date thing, you do realise how this looks right? It seems like you two very much don't want each other to go on dates irrespective of whatever pact you have going on.”
“You of all people should not be complaining about that,” Taemin huffed, “How is your boyfriend doing?”
“Junmyeon is fine, thank you very much. I'm sure we would have gotten together eventually even without your intervention, the only difference possibly being that I would have dated Kibum for a bit before that.”
Taemin tried hard not to show the physical discomfort the thought of Kibum and Minho dating caused him, but his friends were far more perceptive.
“We can see you cringing. You're ridiculous,” Jongin chuckled.
“I hate you both, I don't know why I invited you out to lunch.”
“Why? Are we bothering you too?” Jongin quipped.
Taemin groaned as the two of them burst into giggles.
“On a serious note though,” Minho sobered up quickly. “Do you find Kibum attractive?”
“Yes.” Taemin answered simply. Kibum and Taemin worked in an industry that favoured good looks, at least in their leading actors. It was neither surprising nor groundbreaking to admit that Kibum was an extremely attractive man.
“No Taemin, I mean, do you find him attractive as a man who you would prospectively like to kiss?”
Taemin squirmed, thinking of Kibum’s perfect cupid bow shaped lips, and his shrewd yet honest eyes—
“I can’t comment on that,” Taemin quickly replied, focusing on frowning at the incredulous laugh Minho let out in response.
“Jongin’s right. You are ridiculous. This is not fair to Jonghyun, you know.”
“Do you think I don't know that?” Taemin hissed. “Despite the wonderful date I had with him, I refused to go on a second one and I clearly told him it's just that a relationship isn't for me. Which is true, irrespective of whatever concoction you are thinking of.”
“And how did he take it?”
“Surprisingly well,” Taemin admitted. “He said it made sense that he went after an emotionally unavailable man.”
That did sting a bit, though Taemin was sure Jonghyun had meant it more self deprecatingly than insultingly.
“Huh,” Minho sat back. “Writers are truly something.”
Taemin coughed, not wanting to relive the awkwardness of that conversation with Jonghyun.
“Anyway, tomorrow is my last scene with Kibum, so it really doesn’t matter. Hence the lunch invitation, and hence I’m going to order us another bottle of wine.”
“Whoa, slow down there. Drinking a day before a shoot—”
It was incredible how worried and amused Jongin managed to look at the same time.
“It’s a night shoot, and if I drink at lunch, I’ll be fine by tomorrow morning.”
Taemin had thought this out. It was a special occasion— after all, tomorrow Taemin would finally be done with the burning he felt under his skin whenever Kibum was around.
At least to Minho and Jongin’s credit, they didn’t try to stop Taemin from celebrating. Just made him promise that he wouldn’t be too difficult when they hauled his ass back home.
Taemin was not the best at those promises, though.
“You'd think after what happened last time when you were drunk, you wouldn't do it again a second time.”
“What can I say,” Taemin hiccuped. “I'm a forgetful person— and besides. Don't act like you weren't drunk too when we made the pact.”
Kibum sighed on the other end of the line, and Taemin took the moment to pull the covers over his chest and settle in for the night. When Jongin had helped him into bed, he really should have kept his phone in another room so Taemin wouldn’t have to pick up calls from Kim Kibum at eleven in the night. Which reminded him—
“Why did you even call?”
“I wanted to talk, but I can hear that you are not up for it—”
“No,” Taemin sat up once again, trying to control the sleepy slur his voice had taken. He had sobered enough at this point to be self aware of it anyway. “I’m fine. What is it?”
Taemin was curious. They had not spoken off screen ever since their moment at the resort, and while it had been peaceful without the push and pull, it had also been infuriating because Taemin was too used to Kibum speaking his mind, and the absence of his sharp berating voice made him feel off kilter.
Not that he thought about his voice a lot.
“It’s about the pact. I want to call it off.”
Huh.
“All of a sudden? You didn’t call it off the next morning of the party, and now you have a change of heart?”
“Yeah? And you didn’t call it off either!”
How was it that Kibum always managed to rile him up—
“That’s beside the point!”
“The point is Jinki asked me to be his boyfriend—” Kibum’s voice went up a tone, shrill and indignant. “And I would hate to tell him that I started dating him in the first place because I made a marriage pact with Lee Taemin!”
“Well?” Taemin demanded, despite the headache building up in his forehead. “Did you say yes?”
Taemin knew Kibum and Jinki went on that date, but otherwise, he had no idea their dates had progressed till this stage. Kibum was tight lipped, and Jinki never appeared on set. Taemin’s relationship with Jonghyun wasn’t the best either—
“No, I said I would think about it.” Kibum suddenly sounded small.
“Then think about it, why would you call me? You won the pact! Be happy!”
Taemin's voice, while nowhere near shrill, definitely matched Kibum's tone. How dare Kim Kibum call him to gloat about this happy relationship. How dare he make Taemin feel an ache in his chest with it.
“Yeah you know what— I'll be happy. Goodnight Taemin.”
Taemin had a strong sense of deja vu staring at the locked screen of his phone.
How dare Kim Kibum hang up on him.
“Taemin— great take, but I need you to be more focused. When you slam Kibum against the wall, make it slower and a little less intense. I can't get a clear shot.”
“Yeah,” Taemin grit his teeth. “Got it.”
Kibum raised an eyebrow elegantly, meeting Taemin’s gaze. There was a smirk on his face, evidently mocking Taemin on the comment he received from Soyou.
“Taemin. We’ll start over to the original positions,” Soyou’s voice rang out again, firmer.
“Right.” Taemin stepped back, blushing furiously and just realising that he still had his arm above Kibum, restricting his path, and too close for comfort.
Action scenes were really not Taemin’s forte, and with Kibum thrown in the mix, his nerves today were haywire. Although the man in question kept ignoring his presence off-screen, even when Taemin went out of his way to walk into his green room, fuming.
And walking right off because Kibum was still dressing into his costume, and stared at Taemin in surprise— shirtless.
An image Taemin couldn’t shake off even when they started their take, one which ironically aligned with the actual movie timeline. It was their final shoot together, for the final scene of the movie. It called for a showdown— a hand to hand combat between Taemin and Kibum.
Taemin grabbed a hold of Kibum’s arm, tugging it slowly, giving enough time for Soyou to pan around them, before pushing Kibum against the wall, as the cue had suggested, but he knew he had messed the take again when he stood chest-to-chest with Kibum, and had his breath tickling his nose.
“Cut! Taemin—”
“Soyou,” Kibum smiled tightly. “Fifteen minute break please?”
Taemin stepped back when he heard Soyou sigh in agreement. He was frustrated with himself. Taemin was never the kind of person who let his emotions get in the way of his professionalism and yet—
“Taemin,” Kibum finally addressed him as the set started clearing out. “We need to talk.”
Taemin nodded, too zoned out to rise up to Kibum’s sharp, berating tone, and followed him sullenly into his dressing room.
He finally snapped back his attention to his surroundings when he heard the click of the lock, and Kibum’s scrutinising face was in front of him. Close. Too close. As if he would physically stop Taemin from backing out of the conversation.
“What’s wrong?” Kibum’s sudden doting voice contrasted oddly with his scowling, and Taemin felt done. Done with trying to decipher Kibum's mixed signals.
“You,” Taemin shoved Kibum on his chest. “You are everything that is wrong.”
Fuck. Taemin felt energised. He was finally letting himself talk, and he didn’t want to stop.
Taemin pushed Kibum again, taking advantage of the surprise in his eyes.
“You and your stupid pact. Your off-handed compliments. The way you seem to fucking insult me but admire me at the same time. I hate the fact that you are better than me. That you can fucking star in Japanese movies and then go on interviews and speak Japanese like it is your first language. Fucking hell Kim Kibum. Why did my industry rival have to be you? Why couldn’t it be someone stupid, or at least someone less attractive than you?”
Kibum’s back was against the wall now, and Taemin was heaving. He was not used to talking this much. At least not when he was sober. Definitely not sober and with Kim Kibum. He tried to detract his hands away from Kibum, horrified at his own outburst.
Kibum caught his wrists.
“You know, your Japanese is just as good, if not better. I have seen your interviews too. You undersell yourself too much.”
“Is that–” Taemin paused in the sheer confusion of Kibum’s reply. “Is that really the thing you chose to focus on?”
“Oh no,” Kibum smiled, his grip on Taemin’s wrist tightening. Kibum’s breath was coming out in huffs too. Adrenaline? Maybe. “There are a lot of things to take away, but that was the easiest to focus on. Talking about our Japanese skills is far more comfortable than fully digesting the fact that all this time you didn’t really hate my guts as much as I thought you did.”
Huh.
Taemin pouted. “I do hate your guts.”
Kibum chuckled. “Oh trust me, I hate your guts too. Have you looked at yourself, Taemin? All stylish and impenetrable and composed. You step on a set and everyone is at your feet, while I have to fucking put an effort for people to like me. You are so effortlessly intimidating that you scare me. You never made the effort to talk to me. Did you feel you were above that?”
“That’s not—” Taemin was great at jumping to conclusions, but it seemed like Kibum had an Olympic medal in it. “That’s not it at all. I thought you were the one who felt you were too above to talk to me. You are friends with everyone, Kibum, what was I supposed to think?”
“That maybe I was too attracted to you to approach you first—”
There seemed to be a deafening rush in Taemin’s ears, rendering Kibum’s next words silent in his mind. Kibum was attracted to him. The Kim Kibum, who was standing in front of him in a thousand dollar artfully dishevelled shirt, gripping Taemin’s hands still on his chest, brunette hair in a disarray, and lips moving so fast to convey years of frustration that Taemin was unable to keep up with.
God, he had never wanted to kiss a man more.
“—Even right now I can tell you are not listening to a word I am saying.”
It was easy to lean forward when they were already so close. Downright convenient to swoop in and place a peck on his lips.
Taemin was met with stunned silence.
“You talk too much,” Taemin said softly.
“At least kiss me properly, moron.”
And there it was. The classic haughty Kim Kibum smirk that made Taemin want to strangle him and make out with him at the same time. Kibum let go of his wrists, choosing to use his hands to pull Taemin closer by the waist.
“This, is how you should kiss me.”
And Kibum was prying his lips open, securing him in a proper liplock, one that Taemin responded to eagerly. His tongue prodded against Kibum’s lips mischievously, which Kibum retorted to by biting on Taemin’s bottom lip, and pulling it between his teeth.
Taemin shuddered in his arms, making Kibum break away.
“Are you okay?”
Taemin blushed furiously. He was more than okay. He was aroused. He liked the sharp tug of pain Kibum’s teeth brought.
“I’m fine,” Taemin coughed, looking away from his peering eyes. “We should get ready for our shot.”
“Ah. You liked that didn’t you?”
Taemin wriggled, trying to escape out of the bracket of Kibum’s arms and quips.
Kibum just held on tighter, displaying a surprising amount of arm strength.
Not that Taemin found that sexy or anything.
“You’re so fucking annoying,” Taemin huffed in defeat.
“Yah,” Kibum cackled. “Likewise, Lee Taemin.”
Taemin cracked a smile. It was hard not to, at the face of the hilarity of the whole thing.
Hey, at least rest assured, kissing Kim Kibum was fucking great. Maybe they could explore the sexual tension further—
“Woah wait,” Taemin’s thoughts screeched to a halt. “What about Jinki?”
“Um, about that—”
“What?” Taemin demanded, stepping back from Kibum’s arms. “Please don’t tell me that I kissed a taken man. Fuck—”
“No,” Kibum shook his head indignantly. “I’d never do that! It’s just that—”
“What is it?” Taemin hissed.
“I lied to you. I turned him down even before I called you last night. I just wanted to hear your reaction.”
“Oh my fucking god.”
Relief and anger was a heady mix. A feeling that was entirely new to Taemin.
There was a knock on the dressing room door, bang on the fifteen minute mark, and thankfully, before Taemin could do something irreparable such as actually strangle him.
“I hate you Kim Kibum.”
Kibum pulled him, right before Taemin could twist the knob on the door, and placed a kiss so chaste on his cheek that it would please even Taemin’s Catholic mother.
“Let me make it up to you.”
Taemin turned to face him with a haughty expression of his own.
“I’ll think about it.”
Maybe it was the push and pull that Taemin really enjoyed all along.
“It doesn't exactly take a genius to figure that out.”
“Ha. Ha. Minho,” Taemin deadpanned. “I asked you to review my writing, not to comment on it.”
“That is precisely what a review means, I swear to god Lee Taemin—”
“Is Minho bothering you again?” Kibum took a seat beside Taemin, and ran a hand through his hair. Taemin leaned into the touch. It had been years since their first kiss, and yet the electricity was still the same. Kibum joked that Taemin was like a cat, and he agreed. Coming home to Kibum's petting, heavy or otherwise, was what still kept him going.
“First of all, shut up Kibum,” Minho rolled his eyes. “Second of all, why are you even writing this memoir? It feels nothing like a biography. This has nothing of your career in it! You don't even mention that your and Kibum's movie together went on to be a mega hit, or the fact that you two opened your own production house after that. This is like a fanfiction where you constantly keep calling Kibum hot.”
“A very noble endeavour indeed,” Kibum nodded sagely.
“I wanted to immortalise our love story!” Taemin defended. “Leave something for our future kids!”
“Taemin for the love of god why would your kids want to read this? You even describe making out with Jonghyun in detail—”
“Oh that one was for me,” Kibum quipped. “I found that hot. I still think we should convince him for a threesome.”
“Oh yeah,” Taemin grinned. “I met him just last month to talk about his production. Let's do that.”
Minho groaned, slamming his forehead with Taemin's manuscript.
“I think I liked you both better when you hated each other.”
—The End—