Startled, Kyungseo lifted his eyes. With a reddened face, Heewook went on, as if chewing each word out.
“I want to do it, too… singing.”
At the voice thick with bitterness, Kyungseo clenched his fist before he knew it.
“I want to hear it, too. Your singing.”
He could swear he wanted it more than anyone, maybe even more than Sung Heewook himself. He wanted to shout that if only he could get back on stage, he would do anything.
“Do it. I’ll help you.”
In the end, he couldn’t swallow the feeling swelling up and let it out. He’d meant to say it lightly, like a joke, but it didn’t come out that way. At his serious, resolute statement, Heewook looked flustered.
Dazed, he asked “how” and “why,” and Kyungseo couldn’t bring himself to answer.
‘If I told you I’m that young girl fan you remember from back then, you’d freak out, right?’
Beyond freaking out, he might even feel disgust. Even if he forgave the lie from back then, he might be repulsed and pull away at the fact that she kept messaging while pretending to be a woman afterward.
While Kyungseo didn’t answer, Heewook’s body gradually crumpled. Unable to withstand the alcohol, he slumped forward. His arms stretched out in front of him.
He happened to lower his gaze to the table. The hands of the two of them on the table were close. Just about two handspans apart.
At some point, they’d come this close.
“I’m going to the restroom.”
Leaving Heewook, who wasn’t moving as if he’d fallen asleep, Kyungseo stepped out of the room. Instead of the restroom, he went outside the bar, tugged his mask down a little from where he’d raised it earlier, and breathed the air outside.
“How can I help?”
Even though his heart burned for it, no concrete method came to mind. Should he set up an agency? Only thoughts that were immediately unrealizable and meaningless bubbled up. He ran his tongue over his parched lips and knit his brow.
“When will I finally be a fan who’s of use to him?”
When he first became his fan, Kyungseo had felt himself paltry. Other fans seemed to have so much they could do for him, unlike him. They put up ads in subway stations and at bus stops, bought expensive things from department stores.
He’d been frustrated that aside from chipping in his allowance for small gifts or lunchbox support, there was nothing he could do.
He’d expected that when he became an adult, when he succeeded, he’d be able to load him up with good things.
“How powerless.”
He felt as if he were still stuck in the same place. Staring at the sky, bluish like a bruise because it wasn’t fully night yet, he turned back and went into the bar.
As he neared the room, a low buzzing vibration reached him. A call was coming in to Heewook’s phone. Heewook, sound asleep, didn’t hear it either. Looking at the three letters “Lee Eunseong” on the screen, Kyungseo answered for him.
—Hyung, I’m done. Are you still at that bar?
“…Yeah.”
Bracing a hand on the table, he looked down at Heewook. With his cheek on the back of his hand, Heewook breathed in a steady, even rhythm.
—Huh? Kyungseo…? Don’t tell me Heewook hyung is out cold?
“Yes, I think you’d better come quickly and take care of him.”
—Ah, okay. I’ll head over right now.
Kyungseo tapped the table. At that, a faint crease formed between Heewook’s brows. Kyungseo froze his hand midair.
Heewook looked tired. He took in the situation. Heewook had run all the way out here and hadn’t even seen a hair of Lee Eunseong. A surge of irritation shot up.
“From now on, unless you’re sure you’ll finish early, don’t make plans. Don’t make people wait.”
—Huh? Sorry. I mean, uh, yeah. You’re right.
“I’m hanging up.”
Without waiting for Eunseong’s reply, he cut the call. He knew Eunseong hadn’t made him wait on purpose, but still, Kyungseo didn’t feel kindly toward him. Especially when Heewook was already feeling low because he’d have no more reason to come to set.
“He should’ve gone to where hyung was.”
Irritation was irritation, but Kyungseo set Heewook’s phone silently back on the table. After a brief hesitation, he spoke.
“Eunseong is on his way now.”
He said it like talking to himself. Heewook didn’t so much as twitch.
“Asleep?”
Standing stock-still, watching him, Kyungseo took one step closer. Bracing his hands on the edge of the table again, he looked down at Heewook.
Watching him with his eyes closed felt different again. Whether he was looking elsewhere or meeting his gaze, he had always seen Heewook with eyes open.
“Isn’t he completely off guard…?”
He swallowed without meaning to. His ultimate bias was right in front of him, and the chance to study each and every one of his features up close like this was rare. He felt creepy, but since he had no intention of harming him, he figured it might be okay.
Even without any grooming, his dark, thick brows drooped slightly at the ends, making him look gentle; his densely sown lashes, maybe because of the yellow lighting, looked especially light brown. His round-tipped nose, and his red, plump lower lip. The dot pricked just beneath his lip.
“…What… is this.”
The lips that had been soaked in alcohol until just now still gleamed moistly. Unlike his skin, which looked a little rough from fatigue, they were full of sheen. When the impression of pudding he’d had filled his head again, his firm reason went soft.
He slowly lifted his hand. If it was now, when he was drunk and totally asleep, maybe he wouldn’t notice even if he touched him lightly. He felt like a child laying fingers on a sculpture on display in a museum.
His heart pounded, thud-thud, busily. He thought this might be the one and only chance in his life.
Like a puppet worked by some spell cast by the goddess of fate, Kyungseo stretched his fingers little by little. Those long, rough fingers drew near to the red, plump lips.
With a trembling hand, he slowly stroked the surface of the lips. Smooth and warm, without a single patch of roughness. Each minute movement of his finger sent a tingling current coursing through his whole body.
Swept up in a strange urge to change the shape of those lips like little balloons, he finally pressed down. They were soft. In that instant, a bolt of lightning struck his head and his reason snapped back.
“What have I done?”
Startled, he pulled his hand away. At the same time, as if on cue, Heewook’s eyes slid open. Those groggy pupils turned toward him.
“What…”
Frowning, Heewook parted his lips. He had to move first before the other fully grasped the situation. Kyungseo hurriedly changed his expression.
“You’re awake?”
He set his face hard in an instant, but he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking, so he quickly hid them in his pants pockets.
“Lee Eunseong just called. It seemed like you couldn’t hear it, so I answered for you. He said he just finished filming.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, he’s coming here. Let’s share a taxi.”
“Uh, thanks. And you…”
“I’m going now. My manager said he’s out front.”
It was a lie. He had originally planned to stay until Eunseong arrived, but he needed to get out of here immediately. Call his manager or take a taxi. He was scared that Heewook might catch on to his insane behavior just now.
He had touched his lips while he slept. It was shameless. And yet, in that split second, the thing that coursed through his body had undeniably been ecstasy.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His heart pounded as if it would burst.
“Heewook hyung.”
He stopped, door half-pushed open. The desire he’d recalled outside in the air, that wish to be of help to him, flowed back into his head. He didn’t have a solution on hand, but he certainly wanted to help.
Kyungseo wanted to let him know his resolve. He wanted to etch into that round head of his that he was not alone, that there was definitely someone who wanted to help.
“Don’t forget what I said. Wait for me.”
Heewook looked bewildered. And even then, his dazed face struck him as silly and cute. Staring at his vacant expression, Kyungseo hesitated and added one more line.
“…And come visit the set again.”
Because I want to see you again.
Swallowing that line, he fled the room. Heewook didn’t follow; he rushed through paying as if being chased and went outside. In a deserted spot, he stopped and let out a long breath.
He lifted his hand and stared. Along the whorls of the fingerprints that had traced Heewook’s lips, it felt as if a thin static still crackled. For a fan to touch an idol at will… such a thing must never happen.
“Know your place, Yoo-gyeong.”
He let out a whisper close to a breath. But immediately a strange warping tugged at his heart.
The name Yoo-gyeong, which had been like a second self, felt especially awkward. Clenching his molars, he chewed it over inside.
“Don’t cross the line, Cheon Kyungseo.”
This time, his heartbeat hurt less.
If he were Yoo-gyeong, ardent fan of Two Planet, he mustn’t do that to “Heewook oppa,” but calling himself “Cheon Kyungseo” somehow made him feel at ease. It wasn’t right to do such a thing, but as a colleague in the entertainment industry, maybe it wasn’t so unheard of.
“And… I won’t do it again.”
Guilt and confusion and self-justification mixed together. He pressed the back of his head hard against the wall.
For days on end, filming continued without regard for day or night. And at last, the final day of shooting dawned.
“Finally, the last shoot. Let’s go, fighting!”
The actress playing the female lead, Hyejin, came over and pumped her fists. Worn out with fatigue, Kyungseo pressed his brow once with his thumb, then nodded.
They had shot the day before as well. Though “the day before” was only six hours earlier. Because Donghun kept missing his entrance, they had to redo a long scene over and over. Even though Kyungseo had said he’d give a hand signal, Donghun didn’t look properly and kept coming in wrong.
In the process, the other actors’ NGs piled up too. The irritation and fatigue that had built up then hadn’t eased at all. After sweeping a glance over Kyungseo, who didn’t look in good shape, Hyejin curled up the corners of her mouth.
“You’re not going to ditch the wrap party later, right? You know it’s a problem if the lead is absent?”
At her light prodding, Kyungseo let out a hollow laugh.
Unless it was a wrap party with the press in full force, he usually didn’t join group dinners. He wasn’t sociable enough to laugh and chat amidst a crowd, and he was usually on a controlled diet for other schedules, so people tended to understand.
‘I’m definitely skipping.’
Resolved to refuse flatly, he snorted and turned his head toward Hyejin.
“Of course, I…”
Just then, over Hyejin’s shoulder, he saw several people entering the set. Their faces were faintly familiar. Most of them had appeared in minor roles. He swallowed without meaning to.
The last person to step in and close the door behind him was a man with red hair showing a bit of roots grown out. Confirming that it was Heewook, Kyungseo turned his gaze back to Hyejin.
“…I won’t run.”
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