Chapter Text
Jun heard his mom’s voice call out to him as she entered the room. “Son, when your father gets home, just say you’re sorry. Don’t try to argue.”
Since he’d been lounging on the living room couch, Jun had no idea what he was supposed to apologize for. When he looked up, she had an expression caught between concern and disappointment. Jun sometimes produced this reaction from others, but was more used to seeing it from his father.
This time, he couldn’t recall anything he might have done to warrant it.
Anya had a very kind face with full cheeks, and her round eyes were a dark brown that always held warmth. Growing up, she had been a loving but strict mother who doted on Jun, but held him to high expectations as the eldest son. Now, the way she looked at him made it seem like Jun had let her down in some way.
In some effort to defend himself or gather more information, Jun sat up. “What did I –”
The front door slammed open, interrupting him. Anya turned to look in its direction, so Jun did, too, with growing nervousness. It took some time for his father to make it to the living room, even if he must’ve barreled straight to where he assumed Jun would be.
Jun’s father stopped beside the couch and stared down at him. “Of course you’re lying around doing nothing.”
Where Anya had round edges, Jun’s father did not. Tor’s face was angular, and his eyes were serious and cutting. From an outsider’s perspective, he must’ve been quite handsome, but Jun could only say that because his father had won many awards for his face. Rather, his acting, which was probably good by industry standards, but his face only seemed to make him more popular.
“What is there to do?” Jun asked, half-serious. It was a tried and true defense mechanism when Jun didn’t know what was going on yet.
Jun himself was a mix of both Tor and Anya. Though he had been told many times that he was very handsome, sharp or soft wasn’t the right word for his features; intimidating and warm were two ends of a spectrum that came naturally to Jun. He was somewhere in between, truly the son of his parents.
“Every day it’s the same,” Tor said. “You so easily forget that you represent all of us.”
“I didn’t do any–”
“TMH heir was spotted leaving a bar with yet another woman,” Tor said. He spoke with certainty, like every word was capitalized, which it probably was.
Because if Jun had to guess, it was a headline.
“Well, that’s–”
Anger made Tor’s voice rise. “And just last week, you had the same headline but with a man?”
“Dad, you know I’m bi–”
“Being homosexual has nothing to do with it!” Tor cried. “You bring nothing of value to our family after all I’ve done for you!”
Jun tried to argue in defense of himself, against the wishes of his mother, which he realized too late. “I got my degree just like you wanted–”
“You do nothing with it!” Tor cut him off. “You have your law license and you lay around this big house I bought for you and spend money all night doing who knows what!”
“Alright, I’m sorry–” Jun tried, using his mother’s preferred method.
“Well, let’s just calm down–” Anya tried, as the softer of the two.
“I’m tired of hearing I’m sorry from him,” Tor said to Anya. To Jun, he said, “You’re cut off.”
Jun balked. “What?”
“I canceled your card,” Tor said, with quiet resolution - like there was no reason to yell anymore.
Jun’s voice raised, just as his father’s voice had before. “How am I supposed to live?”
“Get a job,” Tor said. “Like everyone else in this world.”
“Isn’t this too…”
Jun was at a loss for words. For the first time, his father didn’t interrupt, but he didn’t know how to finish his question. Considering the crime, the punishment seemed too harsh, but saying that would only make things worse.
“I’ll reconsider it if you’ve proven you’ve learned some responsibility,” Tor said, looking down on Jun in every sense of the word.
Then he just walked away.
“Mom!” Jun cried, turning to her for a last appeal. “This isn’t — this is too far!”
Anya sighed. “You’re both right. He was too harsh, but Jun…you need to do something. You have all the opportunity in the world. Set a good example for your siblings.”
The fight drained out of Jun’s body as he collapsed back onto the couch. When it came to his younger siblings, Jun would always be weak. From a young age, Jun had been ingrained with one fact: he had to do right by them and the family as the eldest son.
Maybe there was some truth to what his mom was saying, but his dad’s methods were extreme and humiliating, so he didn’t want to agree to anything anyone said right now.
“I –” Jun still didn’t know what to say. And, more pressing than his personal feelings on the matter: “Did he seriously cut my card?”
Anya looked at him with something like pity. “Yes.”
≆
“So, I’m fucking broke now,” Jun lamented.
Thame patted Jun’s head, slurping his boba. “There, there.”
“It’s not a joke!” Jun cried. He held up his own drink. “I had to get you to buy this for me!”
“Your face when the tap to pay declined…” Thame laughed.
“Not funny.” Jun pouted. “I hate my fucking life. How am I supposed to get a job?”
“You have a degree and a license.”
Jun threw his hands in the air. “Me and everyone else!”
“You’re Tor’s son.”
“So?”
“You’re better off than most people,” Thame said, exasperated. “Work at one of his companies?”
“That would only prove his point,” Jun mumbled.
Thame shrugged. “Well, you don’t have much of a choice. Pretty sure all your situationships are off the table if you can’t even afford their ride home.”
“Fuck,” Jun said, rubbing his eyes. “You’re right.”
“Why don’t you work here?” Thame asked. He motioned to their surroundings, which was a private meeting room at the label Thame was signed to. “Just be my manager’s assistant or something. Then we could at least hang out.”
Jun considered it. “I don’t have the skills to do that, though.”
Thame eyed him. “Back to point one: you’re Tor’s son.”
Jun felt hope for the first time. “You’re right!”
“I can talk to them and tell them you’re looking to get some life experience,” Thame said. “Or whatever rich kids like you call it.”
“You’re rich now, too,” Jun scoffed. “You’re an international popstar, which is why we have to hang out here.”
ONER was one of the largest talent agencies in the country, and Thame was one of their biggest artists. Around four years ago, they’d met at an album release after party for some Top 100 artist. They’d been best friends since then.
Jun’s family was in the entertainment industry, not quite the music industry, but they often overlapped. Plus, just being Tor’s son meant he got invited to everything anyway. Which was why Jun often found himself in headlines, either about himself or being seen with someone else’s famous kid, from going to after parties when he had nothing else to do.
“Yeah, well, do you want the job or not?” Thame asked.
“Fuck it, fine,” Jun said. “Go ask them. I need money.”
Thame clapped. “Yay!”
≆
If Jun’s dad wanted to play hardball, Jun decided he would match his energy. With a small loan from his mom in secret, he had movers come to get his things the next day and had moved into his own apartment by nightfall.
Jun promised his mom he would pay her back and start taking things seriously. And that meant he would have to pay his own rent next month.
Being unemployed presented an issue in this plan.
So, he had to get a job as soon as possible, or he was pretty much screwed. His family would never let him sleep on the streets, but if he didn’t succeed, he’d have to crawl back with his tail between his legs and admit he really couldn’t do anything himself.
Jun refused to do that.
“I’m going to miss you,” Jun’s little brother, Junior, said, as they watched Jun’s stuff get packed into a truck.
“I’ll still come around,” Jun promised, patting his head. “And you can come visit me anytime.”
At sixteen years old, some might consider Junior too old for such doting, but to Jun, he was still his baby brother. When Junior looked like he’d cry, Jun pulled him into a hug and promised once more to come visit on his days off.
At least when his dad wasn’t home, he would. Jun didn’t say that though. It was best not to worry Junior with such things. Jane, the middle child, was abroad for college, and Jun hadn’t told her the news yet, for much of the same reason. As the only daughter, their father already put too many expectations on Jane.
Now, Thame sat in Jun’s new apartment, opening a pizza box that he’d brought as a house-warming gift.
“I’ll pay you back,” Jun promised.
“Don’t worry about it,” Thame said, pulling out a slice. “It’s to celebrate your new place.”
Jun didn’t argue. The more money he could save, the better. “Alright. Thanks, friend.”
“And to celebrate your new job.”
“What?” Jun choked on his bite of pizza. “Wait, they said yes?”
Thame looked conflicted. “Well…”
“Spit it out,” Jun demanded. “Do I have to clean or something?”
“Um…” Thame said. “It might be worse.”
“I thought I would work with you? What could be so bad?”
“Do you know Yu Zhou?” Thame said.
“Of course I do,” Jun said. “He’s one of the most famous singers in the country. Though, in person, he’s a bit…”
“Scary.”
“Yeah. I haven’t seen him in years, though. Since his last album release when I was like, fourteen. My dad made me go with him.” Jun shuddered. “He even yelled at me. All I did was breathe near one of his Channel Z awards.”
“Well, his son is signed to ONER,” Thame said. “I’ve talked to him a few times, but…he’s not super friendly, either.”
“I can’t remember if I ever met his son,” Jun said, half-interested. He’d met tons of celebrity kids over the years from being dragged around by his father, and then, as an adult, running in those same circles. He pieced what Thame was hinting at together. “Wait…so I would be working with…?”
Thame nodded. “When I said my friend was looking for a job, Pemika said they were hiring. But only one position was open. Because they can’t keep it filled.”
“So what is it? Being Yu Zhou’s son’s manager?” Jun laughed. “Sounds fun.”
“Um…” Thame said. “Kind of. I think it’s best if you speak to Pemika directly.”
“You’re being weird,” Jun said, eyeing him. “I’m getting scared. Should I apply somewhere else?”
Thame sighed. “Just talk to her first.”
“Fuck,” Jun said. “I hate work.”
“You haven’t even started yet,” Thame said. “She said you can meet with her tomorrow. It’s available immediately.”
“That’s usually not a great sign,” Jun said.
“How would you know?” Thame raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never even worked.”
“Vibes,” Jun said, dismissing the topic. “I don’t want to think about it anymore. Let’s play Mario Kart. Just for tonight, while I’m still a free man.”
“Dramatic…” Thame sighed. But he went to turn on the TV.
≆
“Junn Tangsakultham,” Pemika said, in lieu of a greeting.
Considering how she’d addressed him, Jun realized Pemika wasn’t one for pleasantries on the spot.
Jun hadn’t been to enough interviews to say if it was normal to meet with the CEO during the hiring process. If he had to guess, though…it probably wasn’t.
“Yep,” Jun said. Then he realized this was supposed to be his boss and added, “Ma’am.”
Pemika gestured to the chair in front of her very organized desk. “Have a seat.”
Jun sat down in the chair and made sure to sit up straight. He’d worn a black quarter-zip shirt and black pants, because he hadn’t known exactly what the dress code looked like for working at a music label. If anything, black was always classy, he figured.
The most important part of his outfit was his family necklace, which was a simple gold chain with a ‘J’ pendant. Both of Jun’s siblings had matching ones; they were gifts from their parents for their fifteenth birthdays.
Jun wore it every day, as it had come with a reminder from his parents that it signified Jun’s duty to take care of the family, especially those who got their necklaces after him, Jane and Junior. So, maybe he couldn’t say if it was really lucky or not, but it hadn’t failed him yet. He was still here, after all.
Judging from Pemika’s put-together suit and slicked back hair, it was likely Jun had made the right choice in dressing up.
“I’ll skip the formalities,” Pemika said. “I’m not exactly sure why the heir to Tang Media Holdings is in my office asking to work for me, but I have an open position that maybe someone like you would do well in. And because you’re Tor’s son, I expect you understand confidentiality regarding what I’m about to say.”
“Absolutely. Thame told me a little about it,” Jun said. On purpose, he skipped the details on why he needed a job. It was best to not play all his cards in the beginning. “I’m just looking for some experience, so I’d be willing to do anything.”
Because I’m fucking broke, Jun thought.
“Not too long ago, we signed an artist that we have difficulty with. He has a manager, that manager has an assistant, and he has a security team. I don’t need you to do any of that, particularly,” Pemika said.
“Then…what’s left?”
Pemika sat back in her chair. “There’s no name for this role, because it’s a bit of a mix of all three.”
Jun laughed, and hoped it didn’t show his nervousness. “What do you mean by that? And what do you mean by difficult?”
“I’ll play it straight with you,” Pemika said, sitting back up. “We need a babysitter. Where he goes, you’ll go. Because for some reason, they can’t keep up with him.”
“How is that possible?” Jun blanched. “He’s just one person.”
“That’s where the difficult part comes in,” Pemika said. “It appears he hates being at ONER, and we have trouble getting him to agree to anything. He’s liable to disappear if he can.”
“So I just need to…make sure he’s where he’s supposed to be?” Jun asked.
“And staying out of trouble. Whether he likes it or not, he’s an idol, and his actions affect everyone at ONER,” Pemika said, like she’d said the words a hundred times already.
“Okay,” Jun said. “Sounds easy enough.”
For the first time since Jun had walked in, Pemika smiled. If Jun blinked, he would’ve missed it - it was so small and humorless, and looked nothing like a normal person’s smile. Jun was used to fake smiles being thrown at him, but fake wasn’t the right word to describe it.
“You say that, but you haven’t met Dylan Zhou,” Pemika said. “I think having someone on his playing field would be good for him. Two famous parents.”
“That’s the weird part,” Jun wondered out loud. “If his dad’s so famous, shouldn’t he be used to it? Why does he have a problem with being a popstar?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. My talents’ personal feelings are none of my concern, until they affect business.”
Pemika’s words were cold enough to send a chill down a weaker person’s spine. Jun, however, just stared at her, even though an odd feeling did run over him at the situation. Not for the first time, Jun was hit with the feeling of talking to someone who had said everything before, like Pemika was reading a script back at him. By now, Jun knew better than to show his discomfort in front of people like this.
In dismissal, Pemika motioned to the door. “Mick will take you to him.”
The conversation was over with a simple gesture. Jun was hired.
Maybe his family necklace really had saved him, and he traced it through his shirt before stepping out of the office.
This was his real first day.
Jun was torn between being happy about it and fearing what was to come. Pemika’s ice-cold demeanor only added to the second part, but her description of Dylan Zhou was the most interesting of all.
≆
Once Jun found Mick in the lobby, he had already gained his confidence back. So what, some spoiled rich kid had an attitude problem? That was nothing new - pop stars always went through their little acting out phase, for attention or whatever reason.
Hell, every rich kid had that phase. Jun had it to some degree when he had to go to university, though if anyone were to ask his dad, he’d say Jun was still in it.
That wasn’t true, though. Jun didn’t act out for attention - it was just pure boredom and a loss of direction. He’d gotten his degree and then his license to make his parents happy, but it wasn’t his passion or anything. When it came to acting, Jun did small roles every once in a while, but being his father’s son meant living in his shadow in the entertainment industry. And that wasn’t exactly a great feeling.
Mick led him to get his ID issued, then down the stairs to the next floor of the high rise owned by ONER, stopping in front of a closed door that read Dressing Room 8.
“Well, good luck,” Mick said. It didn’t seem like Mick meant his words at all.
Years of being the son of a famous figure had taught Jun how to hide his anxiety and pretend to be confident, because he was never allowed to be anything else. “Thanks. See ya.”
Mick looked impressed, and left with a wave.
Before Jun went in, he snapped a picture of his ID card to commemorate his achievement. It was a small habit he’d always had, keeping random memories like these. Hopefully, things turned out somewhat okay. Either way, Jun would get some experience, and have a fun story to tell at worst.
Jun pushed the door open. Now, an upbringing that had steeled him to navigate any situation with a smile felt like a good thing.
Mick had given him a rundown of the people who worked closely with Dylan on the way here, so Jun could guess that the people in the room were Sam, who was Dylan’s manager; a couple of stylists; and in the makeup chair, Dylan himself.
Dylan sat with his back turned to Jun. A stylist was putting the finishing touches on his makeup; another one stood behind her and passed her tools. Mod, Sam’s assistant, was missing, probably handling things elsewhere while Sam stayed with Dylan.
Sam looked to be in his late-thirties, tall and fit, but not in a way that came across as intimidating; he had one of those faces that just seemed familiar even if it wasn’t. He stood on the other side of Dylan, and had an exasperated look on his face.
Without a doubt, they were arguing.
“I said no,” Dylan said. His voice was devoid of emotion. “Stop trying to convince me and just fix it.”
“Dylan, we already agreed with the broadcasters–”
“You said that already.”
Jun debated turning around and walking back out. The need for money and the fact that Dylan looked up and made eye contact with him in the mirror took that possibility away.
Dylan said nothing; his face was completely impassive, but Jun felt rooted in the spot by his cold glare. A part of Jun thought the harsh look was unfitting for such a beautiful face, but somehow, it only served to make him more staggering. Dylan Zhou had dyed grey hair and sharp eyes, with full lips that could’ve just as easily gotten him booked as a model if he ever wanted a career change. Which it seemed like he did, from the things Jun had heard, and what he had walked in on.
It must’ve been less than a second before Dylan looked away in apathy, but it felt like longer before Jun managed to look towards Sam. Who had started speaking and looked grateful for the interruption.
“Are you Jun?”
“That’s me,” Jun said with a smile.
“Great, Mod let me know you were coming. I’ll send you the briefing for this week’s schedule,” Sam said, typing on his phone. He turned it to Jun. “Add me. I’ll add you to our group chat.”
“Okay, thanks,” Jun said, adding Sam to his contacts.
“Dylan, this is Jun,” Sam said. Almost cautiously, Sam looked between them, like he was introducing Jun to his strict parents.
Dylan had his eyes closed as the stylist finished his makeup and didn’t bother to open them to greet Jun. The stylist said she was finished, and Dylan got up and went to sit on the small couch, more interested in his phone.
Jun looked at Sam, who looked a bit apologetic. “You’ll get used to it. Don’t take it personally.”
“Alright,” Jun said, then changed his tune when he realized he sounded unsure. “I’m used to not taking things personally.”
Jun and his family had been talked about extensively in the media, amongst ‘friends’, and industry acquaintances alike for years, so this was nothing new. Though most people in the world Jun lived in didn’t usually say anything directly to the face of those they disliked.
“Great! How about this - you’ll drive him to the performance, and the rest of the team will go in the other car,” Sam offered, like he was doing Jun a favor. “Maybe get to know him a bit.”
Jun didn’t feel as if Sam was doing him any favors, and if anything, Sam came across like he would be relieved to get out of doing it himself. Within less than fifteen minutes on the job, Jun understood why this position was so hard to keep filled. When the others didn’t want to deal with Dylan, this was a catch-all role for them to throw the responsibility to.
Maybe Jun was a rich kid, but he wasn’t necessarily spoiled - this was something people often got wrong about him.
Growing up, his parents had made him act however they wished in order to keep their name clean, which was maybe why as an adult he acted in ways they didn’t agree with. That was only because he’d acted according to their expectations for so long that he had little direction now that he was an adult and could make his own choices - if they could even be called that. Everything Jun did would affect them, too.
And there was always a constant reminder that he was incredibly privileged and should be grateful, since his father had come from nothing. Dylan seemed to have grown up without such reminders, and now threw his weight around whenever he could.
Jun despised losing, including losing face. Years of having to look put together for his family had made that of him, as being caught-out wasn’t an option, and everything was a competition. The closest he ever got to being caught in anything was his stupid ‘dating’ scandals, slanderous and unfair as they were. Because Jun had never even dated any of those people he’d been seen with -- or anyone else, either.
Apparently that still had been too much for his father to deal with, but he’d never once slipped up in any other way, and always fulfilled his duties as promised. Even if they were just stupid red carpet events that gave him anxiety, or the constant reminder that Jun would have to take care of his siblings and their legacy one day.
So, he wouldn’t back down from this. Even if Dylan looking up at him with an ice-cold stare gave him a strange feeling in his stomach, it also looked enough like a challenge for Jun to be interested.
Jun refused to lose. He would prove that Dylan was someone who could be made into a proper popstar for ONER. That was his job.
≆
Dylan looked out the car window. “You should just quit now.”
It was the first thing Dylan ever said to him.
Jun never thought he’d be a borderline personal driver to a popstar with a diva problem. His little siblings and friends, yeah, he drove them around with enough convincing. As a job, though…
Well, it was fine. At least he was allowed to use his personal car, since it was big and private enough to fit in with the rest of the company cars. It was familiar and had all his stuff inside, so it was actually a better deal for him than using an issued car. Mostly because that also meant the company would reimburse him for gas and expenses, so Jun had convinced Sam easily enough, looking for any way to save money.
“I’m good, thanks,” Jun said, popping a mint into his mouth. He offered the container to Dylan and shook it. “Want one?”
Silence followed, so Jun snuck a glance at Dylan, who looked between the mints and Jun with a disgusted glare.
With a tone meant to mock Jun’s earlier statement, Dylan said, “I’m good, thanks.”
Popping the lid closed, Jun shrugged. “Whatever, friend.”
Dylan scoffed. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?” Jun asked, like he was conversing with someone he’d known for years. “I’ve been to your house.”
Beside him, he could see Dylan’s attention snap towards his face. “What?”
“My dad and your dad, they go way back,” Jun exaggerated. “Don’t you remember all the things we used to get up to together?”
Pretty much all of it was a complete lie, or an extreme overstatement. Though Jun had been to the Zhou family home at least once, if only for impersonal release parties and because their industries overlapped. Jun may have met Dylan back then, but he had been too young to remember anything about it. Except for how scary Yu Zhou had seemed to his little kid brain.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Dylan asked. “I have no fucking clue who you are.”
“I’m hurt, babe,” Jun said. “I remember your Lisa poster and everything.”
“What? I don’t – I didn’t have –” Dylan spluttered. “Don’t call me that!”
Jun shook his head to hide his laugh. It had just been a guess, but unfortunately for Dylan, Jun had always been good at guessing.
Unfortunately for the both of them, Dylan was kind of cute when he was flustered.
“Alright, I’ll forgive you this time,” Jun said. They pulled up to the back entrance of the venue, and Jun parked where Sam had directed him. He looked at Dylan’s flushed face and smiled. “Next time I won’t let you off so easily, friend.”
With something like a squeak of frustration, Dylan unbuckled his seatbelt and scrambled out of the car, heading straight into the building without waiting on anyone else.
Jun laughed and got out of the car to follow him. The other car with Sam and the stylists parked beside them, and everyone filtered out to start grabbing supplies from the trunk. Sam looked between Jun and the door, and walked up to him with a curious expression.
“Am I seeing things?” Sam asked. “Did he just run from you?”
Jun nodded. “Looks like it. But if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find him now. Can’t let him out of my sight, you know.”
Remembering Dylan’s shocked expression, Jun followed through the back door, laughing to himself.
“Well, that’s new,” Sam said from behind him.
≆
Jun found himself back in another dressing room, much like before. Dylan was basically an idol, and Jun supposed he couldn’t be seen much in public without being perfectly put together. To a degree, Jun related to him, but it was hard to feel bad for Dylan, since he’d willingly signed on to such a life. The stylist was adorning his face with jewels, and the contrast to his dark liner made his eyes all the more striking.
Not that Jun noticed for himself, but it made sense that Dylan was in the industry. Especially with such a famous father, but he’d really lucked out with the genetics, too.
Dylan didn’t speak or look at him, so Jun sat in one of the open styling chairs, spinning around aimlessly. It was enough to make Jun almost bored, missing the way he had been able to mess with Dylan when they were alone. Something told him that Dylan would take even less kindly to such teasing in front of an audience.
“Here’s your outfit, honey. Once you put it on, I’ll come back in and make adjustments,” the stylist said.
From what Jun had seen so far, Dylan didn’t have an issue with following the stylist's orders, and she seemed quite fond of him, too, from the warm way she looked at him.
The two of them appeared to have somewhat of an easy agreement with each other. It was everyone else Dylan had a problem with. Maybe Dylan got more say in how he was styled and therefore had less of an issue with it, but Jun had only been here for half a day and couldn’t really say if it was just a good day or not.
The stylist and her assistant left after laying out Dylan’s outfit, which left just the two of them.
Dylan appeared reluctant to look at Jun, but after a few seconds of silence, he tensely turned in Jun’s direction.
“Can you take the hint and fucking leave already?” Dylan asked, voice sharp.
Jun looked at him, unbothered. “What’s your problem? No need to be so aggressive, darling.”
“Stop fucking calling me weird names.”
“How else will I know which one you like?” Jun asked, playing innocent.
“I hate you,” Dylan said. “You’re the worst one yet.”
“We don’t have time to argue, so let’s reschedule for later, because I do enjoy it,” Jun said, with a smile too sweet to be anything but fake. He checked his watch. “Everyone is waiting on you, though.”
Dylan’s fists clenched at his sides. “Because I need to get changed and you won’t leave!”
“So, get changed.” Jun motioned to the room. “I’ll look the other way if you’re shy.”
“Are you serious?” Dylan balked.
“Your reputation precedes you. You’re known for disappearing.” Jun shrugged. “I promise I won’t look.”
Dylan stared at him in disbelief. “How did you get this job? Are you just some freak stalker?”
Through a yawn, Jun said, “I was bored.” He turned around to face the wall. “Let me know when you’re done.”
“Fuck, this is so stupid,” Dylan grumbled behind him.
“Well, do what you’re supposed to and I won’t have to do this,” Jun pointed out. “I don’t like it, either.”
Dylan mocked him audibly behind his back, but it just made Jun laugh at how petulant he was.
“Stop fucking laughing at me,” Dylan barked.
“Are you done?” Jun shot back. “Worry about that instead.”
“No! Don’t turn around yet!” Dylan yelped.
“I promised I wouldn’t,” Jun said, sincere. “I won’t until you tell me it’s okay.”
Dylan didn’t grace him with a reply. There was shuffling, and then a grumble. Jun heard the door open, and looked towards it to make sure no one was intruding on Dylan’s privacy. Only to find out Dylan himself had opened the door, calling the main stylist back in. He just hadn’t bothered to tell Jun he was done.
Jun scoffed and turned around to face the room.
“I need the back zipped, Jewel,” Dylan said, more politely than he’d heard him, well, ever.
“Of course, honey,” Jewel said. From their interactions, Jun guessed this was Dylan’s head stylist.
Jewel was probably a bit closer in age to Jun than Sam was, so maybe that was why she managed to have a better relationship with Dylan. She was quite tall, had short black hair, and her makeup perfectly done.
Jun watched as she helped Dylan zip the back of his top the final way, which was tight and off-the-shoulder and would’ve made any of his fans drool. Jun, however, was just an objective observer, even as Jewel guided Dylan into black lace gloves that went up to his forearm.
Pulling his eyes away from them, Jun unlocked his phone as it buzzed with a message.
Thame:
hows your first day buddy
Jun:
could be worse…i guess?
anything for a check
Thame:
felt that
catch up with you later, po’s here
Jun:
yuck
Once Dylan was dressed, Sam rejoined them, and Jun saw him breath out a sigh of relief at the sight of Dylan in the correct room and ready to go. So, it must’ve been a rare occurrence.
A short young woman with glasses followed after him, who Jun assumed was his assistant, Mod. She was too busy on her iPad to even notice Jun’s presence, which he didn’t take much offense to.
Sam came to stand beside Jun, and they watched Dylan step into his stage shoes. He kept his voice hushed, leaning closer to Jun. “Is it too soon to get my hopes up?”
“Uhh,” Jun said, and stopped as Dylan’s head turned in their direction. The look on his face was…intense. “Probably.”
“Did you fix what I asked?” Dylan said to Sam, not bothering to even look at Jun.
“I have tried,” Sam said, tired. “Pemika said no, it’s industry standard.”
Dylan scoffed. As if to himself, he said, “Fuck the industry standard, fuck this industry, and fuck you.”
Jun turned to look at Sam with wide eyes. The room was dead silent, and only Mod’s tapping on her iPad with her pencil could be heard. She hadn’t even bothered to look up, like it was just a normal day.
“You guys really pissed him off, huh?” Jun whispered.
Sam sighed. “Just make sure he goes on stage. For the love of God.”
“I’ll try?” Jun said. Then he realized who he was, and stood up straight. “I’ll make sure.”
“I need a cigarette,” Sam said. “I’ll be back.”
With that, he left - and Jewel had approved Dylan’s outfit, so she said, “Wait on me! I’ll join you.”
Without a word, Mod filtered out after them.
That left Dylan and Jun alone again. This was probably something Jun would have to get used to. It seemed like no one wanted to spend much time alone with Dylan.
“Should we take up smoking so you can make some friends?” Jun asked.
Dylan threw him a disgusted look, adjusting his hair in the mirror. “Just shut up and sit quietly.”
For some reason, this made Jun laugh. Dylan didn’t find it very funny, and looked at him with annoyance.
“That’s cute,” Jun said.
The way Dylan’s face got red when Jun said things like that only made Jun smile more, which only made Dylan’s face more red. The vicious cycle continued, with both of them just staring at each other, until Dylan’s anger visibly grew so high that Jun thought he’d start stomping his feet next. This mental picture only made Jun laugh out loud again, and Dylan made a noise of frustration.
“Just fucking quit already!” Dylan yelled.
“But I’m having so much fun,” Jun said, pleased.
Dylan sputtered, huffed in frustration, and stormed out of the room. Jun only allowed himself a moment to laugh in private, scared Dylan would disappear on his first day. That would be a bad look, and he needed at least his first paycheck before he was fired.
Jun was a bit surprised to see that Dylan actually went to the back of the small stage like he was supposed to, where he’d perform a few songs for the event. There was an actor from the same company up there, finishing his approved lines, which meant Dylan would be up soon.
When Jun caught up to stand beside him, Dylan sighed - but not from Jun’s presence. He was watching the stage and hadn’t even noticed Jun.
Sam texted him and said he’d be there soon, but Jun responded that it was under control. A shocked sticker was all Sam sent in reply. Jun’s laugh at the sticker must’ve made Dylan realize he was there, because Jun heard him scoff and felt him take a step away. Jun looked over at him, noticing the way his hands wrung together as he stared at the stage.
Jun moved closer, the same step Dylan had taken away, so they stood side by side again. He spoke just loud enough for Dylan to hear. “What’s got you so worked up about this specific event?”
“Just fuck off,” Dylan said. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll be gone in a week anyway.”
Something about the words and the resigned way Dylan said them made Jun’s heart thaw just a little. He knocked their shoulders together. “You don’t know that.”
Dylan looked over at him. This close, Jun realized Dylan was just barely shorter than him, but that was fine with Jun; it only made it easier to see his face, which was almost bewitching with how gorgeous he was. The makeup amplified the way his eyes shined, the jewels on the corners of them catching the light.
If Jun were to care about such things, which he decidedly didn’t.
What he did care about was the fact that Dylan’s breath seemed uneasy as they stared at each other. The way he jumped at his name being called to go up on stage: “Dylan Zhou!”
Dylan looked away.
He still didn’t go on stage, hesitating for a few moments. Not long enough for anyone to notice anything was wrong, unless they had been standing right next to him the whole time, watching him as closely as Jun had been. Anxiety familiarized itself with Jun long ago, so he could recognize it when he saw it.
“Go on, little popstar,” Jun teased, but it was surprisingly earnest. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
Dylan looked over at him again and rolled his eyes. “You’ll be gone by tomorrow.”
But he pulled his shoulders back and went up on stage. Like it had never happened, Dylan was back to being completely impassive and camera-ready.
There was something very interesting about Dylan Zhou. Jun loved puzzles, and had always been very good at them. The way that Dylan performed like a natural on stage only made it all the more interesting - when he was up there, Jun could’ve been convinced Dylan’s quiet moment of hesitation never even happened. Jun crossed his arms and focused on every moment from backstage, trying to figure Dylan out. What was it about this that he hated so much?
The person Dylan became onstage was nothing like what Jun just saw. Anyone would think Dylan loved this job. At the very least, they’d think he was good at it. Dylan had a commanding stage presence that was hard to come by for a solo performer, and the crowd clearly loved him. He was able to answer and field questions with ease; he recited his lines from the monitor and played off any stuttering with an awkward charm.
The songs he performed - maybe they were a bit generic, especially for someone who seemed as interesting as Dylan - but they were good. They were high quality and radio-ready, a sound that one would expect to come out of an idol career at ONER, which was what Dylan must’ve signed on to do. And Dylan performed them with ease, with a steady voice and a clear talent for dancing.
When it was nearly over, Jun went to grab the bag the team kept for performance essentials, so he could get some towels for Dylan to wipe his face with. Dylan thanked everyone for coming, and walked back the same way he’d come, ignoring Jun, looking straight through him.
Only when Jun stopped him with a hand on his arm did Dylan grace Jun with his glare. Jun just offered him a towel. Dylan didn’t say thanks, or anything at all, but he did take it and patted his face.
Dylan broke the silence. “That’s it for today, right?”
Jun went over Dylan’s schedule in his head. “Yep. Good job out there, by the way.”
“Whatever,” Dylan said, shoving the towel in Jun’s chest for him to take. Which was kind of gross, but Jun didn’t say anything and just took it, unsure of what exactly he was meant to do with it anyway.
Without waiting on Jun’s response, Dylan started walking back to the dressing room, throwing himself inside and slamming the door closed. Jewel was outside the door, talking to Sam.
Jun stopped in front of them and held up the towel. “Where does this go?”
“You can throw it in with the clothes when Dylan’s done changing.” Jewel smiled. “So, how was your first day?”
“An absolutely fulfilling adventure,” Jun said. “My new passion, babysitting popstars.”
Jewel laughed. “I like this one,” she said to Sam.
“Well, he’s the most promising yet,” Sam agreed. “Most people quit by the end of their first day.”
“I’m not a quitter,” Jun shrugged. I desperately need to pay my rent.
“Just give Dylan some time to warm up,” Jewel said.
Jun was a bit skeptical about that helping much, and looked to Sam, who looked equally as disbelieving.
“Yeah, as if,” Sam muttered.
Not one to back down, Jun gave Jewel a bright smile. “Well, I have nothing but time.”
“You’re too cute,” Jewel said, pinching Jun’s cheek.
Dylan walked out of his dressing room, having changed into a hoodie and jeans, and looked like he would probably kill Jun if given the chance and a back alley.
Jun raised an eyebrow at his icy expression, but turned back to Jewel and smiled, grateful for some positive attention. “That’s probably how I got hired.”
“I need a ride home,” Dylan said, unamused, arms crossed.
Standing up straight, Jun opened his mouth to offer, but was interrupted by Sam. “Jun, since it’s your first day, you can head home. I’ll take Dylan home.”
“Really? Thanks, Sam!”
Sam shook his head. “Don’t thank me yet. See you tomorrow.”
Jun chose to ignore the warning, happy he was able to go home, and that he’d survived. Dylan may not like him -- to put it lightly -- but Jewel was kind, and Sam just seemed grateful for the help. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.
Everyone walked out together down the long hallway, and filtered out the back door to the artist and staff parking lot. Jun went to his car, and the others went to their company cars. Including Dylan, who went with Sam.
“Bye, Jewel,” Jun sang, and she waved back at him. Dylan stared at him from outside the passenger door of Sam’s car, tapping his foot. “Bye, Dylan Zhou!”
Dylan scoffed and looked away, getting into the car without looking back.
≆
“So, tell us all about it,” Thame said, eyes shining with glee.
When Thame had called and said he and Po wanted to meet Jun for dinner, Jun’s first thought was to decline. Which was nothing like him, because he had always been the type to accept an invite.
In just a day, things had changed. Jun was a working man now, and was actually super tired from his first day. Even so, Thame had sounded so excited, and it was clear that they just wanted to support him, so Jun went anyway. Even if being a third wheel was sometimes annoying, they never made it awkward, and usually included him in everything. Plus, it was free food.
So, he found himself sitting across from them in a busy restaurant.
“Look at all these people here, getting off work, going to dinner.” Jun motioned around them forlornly. “Just like me.”
“You’re truly one of us now,” Po laughed. “Anyway, spill!”
Jun pushed his pasta around. “It was fine, I guess.”
“Oh, come on,” Thame groaned.
“It’s not like you to be so boring,” Po complained.
“Yeah, well, I have a job now. I’m all grown up,” Jun said, overplaying the dramatic sigh.
“Maybe we can still hang out at the company sometimes. What do you think? Think you’ll be too busy?” Thame asked.
That made Jun think about his new responsibilities: Dylan’s tendency to threaten to run away from a performance, his apparent anxiety that Jun saw before the event, and Sam’s clear desperation for help dealing with it.
Jun’s shoulders fell. “Yeah. I’ll be busy.”
“Lame,” Thame said.
Po rolled his eyes. “Thame, he has to make a living.”
“Yeah, Thame,” Jun mocked. This made Thame stick his tongue out, which Jun mirrored.
Po shook his head at Jun and Thame’s childish looks at each other. “Well, when I worked at ONER…I heard things about Dylan.”
“Like what?” Jun asked.
“Just how difficult he was to deal with, and how much staff turnover he had,” Po said. “I never really dealt with him directly, though. Is it true?”
Even though Jun had just thought to himself about Dylan’s issues, he didn’t want to say Dylan was a problem. For some reason, treating him like everyone else almost made Jun feel guilty - the way people pushed him off like Dylan was something they didn’t want to deal with.
Maybe Dylan was harsh, and seemed quite hard on Sam with his demands, whatever they were - and he wasn’t necessarily the kindest to Jun, either. But Jun didn’t want to pass judgement yet, knowing what that felt like.
In the end, Jun just shrugged and answered with his true feelings. “He’s interesting. I don’t know how to answer that yet.”
Thame and Po looked at each other for a moment, like they were speaking a language Jun didn’t speak.
“Come on, guys,” Jun complained.
“Thame was just saying…” Po said.
“That we think you might just be…” Thame said.
“A little bit gay,” Po finished.
“What? Come on, that’s nonsense,” Jun said. “I mean, yeah, that’s true, technically. But not for him!”
Po looked interested in potential gossip, at least if he wasn’t the one involved. “There are two things everyone agreed on about Dylan Zhou: he’s pretty, and he’s a bitch. Some people say both. What side are you on?”
“I said he’s interesting,” Jun deflected.
“Whatever you say, little Jun,” Po said, but the two of them looked at each other again.
Jun pushed his plate away. “Fuck this, I’m going home.”
His phone buzzed with a message. Ignoring Thame and Po’s protests, he saw it was the work group chat.
Sam:
Call time is 7:30 am, as you guys can see on the schedule.
Dylan will need a ride to the set.
Jun, here’s his address.
Jun:
you want me to drive him?
Sam:
Yes.
I told you not to thank me yet.
Mod:
FYI: Dylan is not a morning person.
Jun:
….thanks.
see you tomorrow.
“Is that him?” Thame asked, giddy.
“What? No!” Jun said, locking his phone. “But it is work. Fuck, this sucks, I really do need to go home soon. I have to be up early as fuck.”
“How early?” Po asked.
“Early enough to get Dylan to set by 7:30 am,” Jun complained.
“Wow, for your second day that’s…” Po looked shocked. “Classic ONER.”
Jun didn’t want to say ‘no one else wants to deal with Dylan that early,’ so he just said, “Yeah.”
“Yeah,” Thame agreed.
≆
Dylan’s address wasn’t the house Jun had been to as a kid. When he pulled up, it was a high-rise apartment complex that was even nicer than his own, and that was already pretty nice. Which had probably been a mistake on his part, considering he’d have to now pay the appropriate rent - but it was too late to think about that.
Sam had given him the code to get into the parking garage, and he drove up to the tenth floor to wait for Dylan to come outside. It was nearly six in the morning, and the venue was about an hour drive, which gave Jun a thirty minute window for any potential mishaps. Jun might’ve been facetious by nature, but he was a responsible person.
He’d gotten his siblings to school many times without them ever being late, was disciplined enough to get his law license even though he didn’t care for it, and was raised on a strict schedule of events just like this.
So, Jun wasn’t the problem. However, Jun didn’t have Dylan’s number to tell him he was here — which was a problem. To remedy this, he texted Sam to tell Dylan, which didn’t seem efficient. For now, it was the best option, because if he asked Sam for Dylan’s number and texted him directly, something told Jun he’d just get blocked, if the request even got read at all. At least Dylan was used to hearing from Sam.
Ten minutes passed since Sam had replied with an affirmative, and Dylan still hadn’t come out yet. Unfortunately, the window of time to get Dylan there without being late got smaller with every passing minute, and each one caused Jun to become more anxious.
Jun:
does he live alone?
no one else we can call to wake him up?
Sam:
Nope. He lives alone.
I’ll try calling him again.
This presented another problem. The entrance into the building from the parking garage was a windowed access door that only opened with a keycard. Jun did not have a keycard, because he didn’t even have Dylan’s number. If Dylan was an easier subject, maybe Jun wouldn’t have any of these issues.
However, the fact that everyone knew that Dylan was anything but easy and still hadn’t given him anything to navigate this made Jun roll his eyes at their ineffectiveness. If this was how they’d gotten Dylan around before Jun got hired, no wonder Dylan thought he could get away with such an attitude.
After fifteen minutes, Jun decided he wouldn’t wait anymore. The second someone pulled up and parked in the garage, Jun got out of the car and fell in line behind them, a short young man with dyed blonde hair. Jun smiled when they made eye contact. The stranger didn’t think twice and held the door open for him with an answering smile — he’d always been someone who portrayed confidence, which made it easy for Jun to appear like he belonged wherever he went.
Jun:
what is his apartment number
Sam:
1003
He’s still not answering my calls.
Jun didn’t even bother to reply, and just went straight to door 1003. When he found it, he banged on the door loud enough to wake up the entire floor.
“Dylan Zhou!” Jun called.
No reply came. Jun only knocked harder, and called Dylan’s name again. After a couple more tries, Jun heard shuffling on the other side of the door and stepped back. What he’d been expecting was a half-asleep Dylan, but what he got wasn’t Dylan at all. In front of him stood a man who was probably Jun’s age, had black hair sticking up from sleep, and he was wearing nothing but underwear.
“Who the fuck are you?” Jun asked on reflex. He checked again to make sure he had the correct door, and wasn’t verbally accosting a random man if he had the wrong apartment.
It was the right apartment.
The man looked behind him, then back at Jun. “Um…”
“Is Dylan here?” Jun asked, crossing his arms with impatience.
“Sorry man, I didn’t know he had a boyfriend–”
Jun scoffed and pushed past him, tired of wasting time on someone who had no idea what was going on. The apartment was spacious and modern, and almost sterilely clean; Jun had to check two rooms, one room that looked like it had been converted into a home studio, and one that must’ve been a guest bedroom, before he found Dylan’s actual bedroom. Dylan was in the bed, asleep on his stomach in a similar state of undress, except he wore an oversized shirt that had ridden up his back in his sleep.
The guy fidgeted in the bedroom doorway, nervous. Ignoring him, Jun went to the side of Dylan’s bed and rolled him over so that he was on his back. Dylan’s eyes shot open and he scrambled to sit up.
“What the fuck?” Dylan said, his voice laced with sleep.
“Get dressed,” Jun said. “Now.”
Dylan rubbed his eyes, with no sense of urgency whatsoever. “Fuck, what time is it…”
Jun bent down, grabbed Dylan under his arms, and hauled him out of the bed like an oversized cat. This made Dylan shriek in alarm, and he tried pushing Jun away by his chest. It didn’t work, and instead, a very grumpy Dylan blinked at him once he was standing, clearly displeased, his hair a mess. Honestly, it would’ve been cute, if Jun wasn’t so annoyed about being late.
“Fuck. You.” Dylan snapped.
“You have two minutes to get dressed before I carry you out of here myself,” Jun said.
Dylan stared at him in anger and didn’t move.
Jun crossed his arms. “Alright, a minute and thirty seconds, then.”
“Why are you still here?” Dylan yelled in frustration.
“One minute,” Jun sighed, unconcerned.
So unconcerned, in fact, that he turned away from Dylan entirely and left him to get dressed. Instead, he focused his attention on the stranger in Dylan’s apartment.
“You too,” Jun said to him. “Get dressed and get the fuck out.”
The guy stuttered like he’d say something, but chose to scramble into the room and throw his pants on. Dylan had disappeared into what must’ve been a huge walk-in closet, so Jun left his room and went to sit on the couch.
It was almost six-thirty. They’d have to leave immediately if they wanted to make it on time.
Jun:
on the way
Sam:
Please don’t quit.
Jun:
don’t plan on it
Jun looked up when he saw movement from Dylan’s bedroom. First was the guy, who walked out of the apartment with an apologetic look at Jun.
Finding out Dylan liked men was so inconsequential that Jun hardly even spared it a thought. Most of the people he knew weren’t straight. Pretty much every single acquaintance he had wasn’t, to varying degrees. Jun’s personal circle was Thame and Po, who weren’t, either. Considering they were dating and all.
And neither was Jun. Really, Jun just hoped Dylan knew how to pick people who could keep their mouth shut about it.
Not because there was anything wrong with it, but because Jun knew very well how annoying it was to be caught in headlines with hookups, regardless of gender, and he wasn’t even an idol.
Next to emerge was Dylan, who walked past Jun without a single word. Getting up to follow, Jun stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Get me a key,” Jun said. “And a keycard.”
“Are you fucking insane?” Dylan blanched. “I’m not doing that.”
“I’ll come here every morning just like this until you do.”
“You’re – you’re so fucking annoying,” Dylan muttered, walking out.
Jun called after him. “I want it by tomorrow!”
“Fuck you!” Dylan yelled from the hallway.
For the first fifteen minutes on the road, they drove in complete silence. Dylan was stewing in his anger, but after about ten minutes, he must’ve given up, sighing and looking out the window.
Dylan had tried to get into the backseat like Jun was his personal driver, but Jun insisted Dylan sit in the front with him. One, Jun couldn’t trust Dylan wouldn’t try to strangle him from the backseat. Two, Jun knew he would be easily bored on such a long drive without a talking partner. Which was why he broke the silence and risked pissing Dylan off, when he’d just calmed down.
“Was it worth it?” Jun asked.
Unfortunately, the only thing Jun could think to talk about was Dylan’s poor choice in hook-up timing, considering he must’ve known he had an early schedule the next morning. If Jun didn’t know any better, he’d think Dylan had done it on purpose.
“What?” Dylan asked, tone sharp.
“If he made you late, then I hope he was worth it at least,” Jun said.
“Whatever, man,” Dylan said.
Jun laughed. “I’m guessing that’s a no.”
From the corner of his eye, he could see Dylan’s cutting look. “Can you just shut up and turn on some music or something?”
“I’ll be bored,” Jun complained.
“I don’t care,” Dylan said. “I’m not talking anymore.”
Jun did turn the volume up, but kept it low enough that he could continue talking. When he spoke again, Dylan immediately sighed. “Aren’t you excited for a long day of shooting?”
“No.”
“I was joking, babe,” Jun said through a smile.
Dylan put his hands over his ears. “I’m not listening to you anymore. I fucking hate you.”
“Maybe if you’d gone to bed last night, you wouldn’t be so grumpy,” Jun sang.
“I can’t hear you,” Dylan said.
“Then how did you know I said anything?” Jun laughed.
This time, there was silence as Dylan looked away, out the window again, his hands still over his ears.
“I think I’ll have another coffee once we get there,” Jun said. “What about you?”
Silence.
“Has anyone ever told you that you look like a cat?”
Still, silence.
“What about this: has anyone ever told you that you’re cute?” Jun said.
Dylan choked beside him. Jun looked over at him and laughed; he still looked out of the window, but Jun could see that his ears had gone red, between his fingers. Since Dylan was so often angry or indifferent, Jun couldn’t resist messing with him like this, when it was the only thing that made Dylan act like a regular person.
“Cut the act,” Jun said, back to normal. “I’ll turn the music on, and you can sleep the rest of the way. You clearly need it.”
“Give me the aux,” Dylan mumbled, blindly reaching out towards Jun without looking at him.
“Just connect your phone,” Jun said.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Dylan look at him curiously, then shrug. After setting up his phone on Bluetooth, Dylan put on his own playlist.
It was completely different from the music he released with ONER, which was not that strange. Most artists Jun knew didn’t listen to their own music in their free time. It was still an interesting distinction to Jun, who collected information like puzzle pieces. Jun didn’t really know what to call the genre, but it wasn’t something that would be played on the radio, bass-heavy and a mix of rap and pop. Dylan curled up in his seat and rested his head against the window, closing his eyes, which made Jun smile.
“Want a blanket?” Jun asked, nonsensically, because he didn’t have a blanket in his car. He made a mental note to fix that, and maybe a pillow, too, just in case.
Dylan didn’t bother to open his eyes. “I want you to be quiet.”
What Jun did have was an extra jacket he kept in the backseat in case of emergencies, so he reached behind Dylan’s seat and threw it at him. Dylan looked over at him with an annoyed glare, as it had landed on his head and when he dragged it down, his hair stuck up. Jun couldn’t help but laugh, but it melted into a smile once Dylan wordlessly wrapped up underneath the jacket, his head against the window.
It would make a nice picture, Dylan in an easy agreement with him for once. Jun didn’t speak again, and let him sleep.
Dylan arrived on set with one minute to spare, and seemed too sleepy to put up much of a fight once Jun shook him awake.
Jun realized that today’s shoot would probably mostly be outdoors - they walked around a small building to a large field that was owned by a coffee shop. This location was popular for social media posts and professional shoots, because the outdoor garden in the back was large enough to take a bunch of interesting photos. Jun himself had even been here before, on a random date that had led to sex and little else.
Underneath a tent to shield him from the sun, Dylan sat through hair and makeup with his eyes half-closed, and only opened them when a staff from the sponsor’s team came over to brief him on his lines. From what Jun gathered from context clues and the schedule, Dylan was shooting a few ads for a product line that would launch next month. A part of Jun felt almost proud watching Dylan go through the motions without a fuss, and he didn’t complain even with the hot, outdoor locations he was filming at.
Around eleven, Jun noticed that Dylan started dragging his feet a little. It would be time for lunch soon, but Dylan seemed like he wouldn’t make it until then, as he clearly hadn’t woken up in time for breakfast. Jun walked across the garden, up the stairs to the coffee shop, and almost groaned out loud at the blast of cooler air once he got inside.
Jun had no idea if Dylan liked coffee, or what he drank if he did, but he figured he’d get him something. It would at least hold him over until they ate lunch, so he just told the barista to make whatever fit the description ‘sweet with a lot of sugar to give a boost of energy’.
As he stood in line, Jun made himself a reminder for later, using Thame’s chat log for storage.
Jun:
reminders to Jun, please ignore
start bringing snacks
possibly start bringing breakfast
put a pillow and a blanket in the car
Thame:
?
The barista told Jun the name of whatever they made, which he asked for just in case Dylan liked it. Coffee was only a short-term solution, but he’d just have to remember to get Dylan to eat before long shoots next time.
As he walked back, he sipped his own coffee, which was sweet, but not nearly as sweet as what the barista had given him for Dylan. When he found Dylan, he was sitting under a tent holding a fan to his face. Jun held out the coffee, which made Dylan look back and forth between Jun and the drink with apprehension.
“I didn’t know what you liked,” Jun said. “Tell me so I can remember it for next time.”
Dylan slowly reached out and took the coffee, giving it a tentative sip. His eyes lit up, before he realized he was being watched and he went back to neutral. “This is fine, I guess.”
Jun resisted the urge to smile, knowing it would make Dylan try to hide reactions like that even more. He didn’t get a chance to say anything before Dylan was being called back to set from a staff across the venue. Dylan got up and walked away without saying anything else, but he took the coffee with him.
Since his back was turned, Jun was free to smile all he wanted. For a while, he just watched as Dylan spoke to the staff and got his makeup touched up.
Fanning his face, Sam came over and joined him. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” Jun asked.
“What’s Dylan holding?” Sam asked, squinting.
“A…coffee?” Jun said.
“Where’d he get that?” Sam said.
Jun crossed his arms. “I got it for him.”
“Oh, well, just so you know, we usually try to only give him black coffee,” Sam said, like this was something Jun should note down.
Remembering Dylan’s reaction earlier, Jun raised an eyebrow. “Does he like black coffee?”
Sam shrugged.
Jun gave him a side-eye without realizing it, but by the time he did realize, Sam had scratched his head awkwardly and looked away already, so Jun did too. Though the moment had been weird, Jun let it pass for now.
Sam walked away some time later, but Jun was keeping an eye on Dylan, and didn’t notice until he was already gone.
When it was finally time for lunch, Jun followed Dylan into the catering line with everyone else. Sam and Mod were absent, which made Jun curious, but he didn’t say anything.
From behind him, Jun leaned in close, to speak by Dylan’s ear. “Wanna eat lunch with me?”
Dylan jumped at his voice, but ignored him.
Jun picked through the simple dishes and put some on his plate, and they were mostly just finger foods, like vegetables and wraps. Truthfully, it wasn’t nearly enough to support another four hours of shooting, especially since Dylan hadn’t eaten all day. It wasn’t enough for Jun, and he had eaten breakfast.
For now, it would have to do, but if it was always like this, Jun would just have to start packing his lunch or something. That meant he’d have to pack Dylan’s lunch, too, which just seemed like a pain. But if Jun ate, Dylan would, too. Jun wouldn’t let him starve.
Once they got their lunch, they sat at a small outdoor table covered by an umbrella.
Well, Dylan sat, and Jun sat across from him uninvited, much to Dylan’s apparent disdain.
“I’m going to be hungry in like an hour after this,” Jun complained, but picked up a cucumber slice that had some kind of filling on top. It was pretty good, but after such a long, hot day he just wanted actual protein.
Naturally, Dylan didn’t bother to reply and just picked at his own food.
“So where’s Sam?” Jun asked the silence.
“I don’t eat lunch with Sam,” Dylan said.
“Really?” Jun asked.
“Really.”
“Okay,” Jun smiled, but made a mental note to look into this later - he wouldn’t bring it up again, not to Sam or Dylan. He needed more information first. Either way, he didn’t like the thought of Dylan eating lunch alone. “Well, you can eat lunch with me.”
Dylan just sighed and said nothing else.
Hours later, a very tired Dylan shuffled to where Jun and Sam had parked their cars.
“He’s on my way,” Jun said to Sam, before he could pawn Dylan off again. “I’ll take him.”
Sam looked relieved, and didn’t argue. “See you tomorrow, then.”
“See you tomorrow,” Jun said.
Not bothering to speak, Dylan pulled at the locked passenger door handle over and over again until Jun shot him a look. Dylan turned around more quickly than he should’ve been able to with how tired he looked, but Jun swore he saw his shoulders shaking with laughter.
The beep of the car unlocking made Dylan turn around again, and his face was completely neutral, so maybe it was wishful thinking.
Jun got in the car after him and watched as Dylan curled up to sleep in the passenger seat like before. Without saying anything, Jun threw his jacket on top of him and started the drive home.
Tired from the long day, Dylan didn’t say much as Jun dropped him off at his apartment. Jun was exhausted from the heat himself, so he was happy not to argue. Only when Dylan was already behind the access door did Jun remember he hadn’t asked to add him on LINE, and he hadn’t reminded him about the key. And he couldn’t do so, because of the LINE issue.
Jun still felt like he’d be going behind Dylan’s back if he asked Sam, so he didn’t. Not yet. Tomorrow, he’d see Dylan and ask him then.