Chapter Text
Chapter 1
A commotion on set is seldom good news.
Usually, it means something unexpected has happened. That in turn usually means there’s going to be a schedule change. A schedule change tends to lead to a pushback. The pushback leads to long waiting times for everyone on set, and the consequences are a domino effect in which increased stress-levels in the production crew leads to higher probabilities of dumb mistakes being made—which might in turn end up in another pushback.
At the end of the day, it usually means Till has to wait even longer to go home.
So, when a loud squeal sounds from somewhere out back and the camera crew begin buzzing and moving around like filming isn’t about to resume anytime soon, he knows he is shit out of luck.
Till leans back on the couch set-piece he’s been waiting on (keeping in mind not to ruin the messy hairdo his overworked stylist has just done touch-ups on unless he wants to incite her wrath), and exhales quietly up at the ceiling.
“It’s already been a long day,” he mumbles to no one in particular. “Where the fuck is Ivan?”
Someone had left to fetch his rookie co-star more than ten minutes ago for a quick reshoot of a certain angle director Kim, that perfectionist asshole, hadn’t been one hundred percent happy with.
It’s a pretty boring scene to film for Till’s character: it’s just him sitting unconscious and roughed up on the floor while his in-show counterpart goes through some conflicting introspection. But it’s apparently so darn important to get just right that even after a full day of getting “pushed around” and “bullied” by actors in either alien masks or full motion capture suits, director Kim still pleads with him to stay behind for this final reshoot while they’re all still in full costume and on the right set.
And because Till is a hard worker who respects the passion the crew has for this project—not because he’s a pushover, goddamn it—he’s still here. Waiting.
Not home, on his own couch. Or better yet, in bed.
Damn. I want a hot shower.
And really, where the fuck is Ivan.
It’s actually kind of surprising he wasn’t standing just behind the camera crew, ready to jump in the moment the director got the sudden whim for a reshoot. He’s usually-bordering-on-always around set when Till is filming, even on days they don’t have scenes together.
“It’s a good way to get experience!” Ivan had explained when he had first asked him why he is spending so much of his rest-time watching other actors work instead of, well. Resting. “If I study someone very skilled and participate in the monitoring, I’ll definitely improve quickly.”
There’s something kind of endearing (if a bit naïve) in the earnest passion his idol-turned-actor co-star is approaching the craft with. Till is sure he’ll learn the true value of power napping in a dressing room every chance he gets in due time, but for now he’s not averse to letting him stick around set and figure himself out. He’s still young—and director Kim welcomes it as flattery anyways.
…point being, Ivan is usually around when he’s needed, so the fact that no one has been able to locate him for the past—now fifteen minutes—is kind of odd.
…also, the commotion out back is getting annoying. Why is there so much excited screaming? Maybe someone pretty famous has dropped by—probably one of Sua’s acquaintances if he were to place bets—hey, was that… barking?
No sooner has he thought the thought before the doors to the filming area open and the commotion from the hallway makes its way inside.
Till sits up, and before long he discovers the source of all the fuss. The camera crew all stop to watch the black mass of a medium-sized dog running away from its spectators, and probably its retainer.
Two seconds later, he has made eye-contact with the beast, which… suddenly changes it course.
It charges right at him, and while some long-dormant childhood memory of facing down a big canine creature tries to trigger a fight or flight response in him, Till barely gets his hands up before the air is knocked right out of his chest and his ears are filled with a loud, ringing “Woof!”
-
Filming is cancelled, as much as it grieves director Kim to give the call, and any other day Till would have taken the opportunity to rush right back to his and Ivan’s shared dressing room, throw off his costume and go straight home. Preferably to a delivery order of black bean noodles ready to meet him at the door.
However, today is just not like any other day, and his grand plan of escape is being prevented by a big ball of fur that’s decided that it will only settle down and accept pets and cuddles if Till settles down first.
His co-stars and staff seem to find this extremely cute.
Mizi already has an arsenal of pictures and videos in her camera roll of the creature receiving praise and appreciation from every crew member on set and is not showing signs of being satisfied with her collection any time soon. Till, of course, appears in every one of them.
A long time is spent on picture-taking and cooing and awing before anyone deigns to explain to Till why there is a dog on set.
“Short answer is, who knows?” Hyunwoo shrugs helplessly, simultaneously doing his best to capture his sister playing with the puppy draped over Till’s lap with one of his fancy handhelds. “One of the assistants were in the back trying to find Ivan but found this guy instead. Maybe it’s a stray that got curious and ended up in here?”
“Hm… I don’t think so,” Sua says from behind Mizi who is leaning down to get some close-ups of the puppy’s scrunched-up face. “Its coat is very clean. And with this colour… It’s a jindo, isn’t it? I think I read somewhere that it’s pretty rare to have a fully black one like this.”
“Which means, this cutie has an owner,” Hyuna deduces, giving said “cutie” an appreciative rub behind its ears. “But I don’t see a tag. Maybe it lost its collar? Or ran away?”
Hyunwoo sighs, putting away his camera for now. “Well, that makes things a bit harder. We’ll look around the neighbourhood and ask around for a bit, but it’s getting late… and we can’t leave it here unattended. It might chew on something dangerous… or expensive.”
“Then call the police?” Till supplies with an open-handed gesture, thoroughly ignoring the spoiled creature vying for the attention of said hand. He jerks it away with a small shudder when something wet comes out to lick at it. “Or an animal shelter or something, let the professionals deal with this.”
Mortified gasps escape the two youngest actors, and Till shudders harder this time as he is subjected to their woeful and pleading eyes.
“Noooo, we can’t let that happen!” Mizi protests and leans forward, like she’s forming some sort of protective barrier around the dog. Hyuna readily joins her in their joint venture. “They’ll probably leave him in a cold, empty pen overnight. He is obviously not used to being alone! Just look how cuddly he is.”
Hyuna nods sagely and supplies her support. “That could be really bad for him, like mentally. We should really consider his welfare before making a drastic decision like that.”
Till looks to Hyunwoo, who can usually be counted on to be realistic about decisions like this (especially when his beloved filming equipment could be at risk) but should have know he had lost the moment his little sister got invested in the four-legged creature. He sighs, and thinks mainly about how he is too exhausted to deal with this. “Take him home, for all I care. Just sort it out before I lose circulation in my left leg, too.”
The whole crew freezes up at that.
Till already knows what’s coming.
“Um, well… that’s a bit…” Mizi begins, tucking her hair behind her ear. “My dorm doesn’t allow for—like, I could get in trouble!”
“Same here,” Hyuna adds, shoulder going from high to drooping, like a balloon that’s let out too much air.
Hyunwoo adds his own sigh of regret. “Our mother is allergic, so I’m afraid our house is a no-go. It’s surprisingly hard to find someone who’ll keep an unknown dog for a night.”
Till actually feels a little relieved at their admittance—because that leaves them with his far smarter, far more reasonable suggestion: get someone professional involved. Heck, he’ll even volunteer to look up the right phone number if it gets him out of here any quicker.
That is, until Sua—and it’s always Sua, isn’t it—opens her mouth.
“Till, you have your own apartment, don’t you?”